Doing Business, Part 5 (Patreon)

Five

In the closed confines of The Closet, we stared at each other. The pacifier remained planted in my mouth, as it had been for the last ten minutes. Everytime I made a move to take it out, she’d stop me.

“I have questions,” Lyndie said.

I finally spit out the pacifier. She didn’t have a reaction to that this time. “I’m sure you do.”

“Can I get honest answers from you?”

“I don’t know.”

It wouldn’t be hard to guess what some of the questions would be, and none of the answers would be fun to say out loud to her. And while I didn’t really owe her any answers, I was probably making my work-life experience potentially worse by refusing to answer. Maybe I’d lie. Maybe I’d be honest. I needed to know the questions first.

“So has Gabrielle done this before?” she asked. It was strange hearing Lyndie refer to her as ‘Gabrielle.’ Maybe that’s how most people referred to her. Ms. Heller, herself, had answered the phone as ‘Gabby’ earlier. But that didn’t feel like the name I’d use. I felt obligated to show respect. Ms. Heller in my mind. ‘Mommy’ out loud.

“I think so. Maybe not exactly this? But…things like this.”

“And are those diapers functional?” she asked.

I inhaled sharply. She was asking one thing, but she was really asking something else. I answered the literal question, knowing there’d be a follow-up: “They are functional. You could use them. If you wanted to. They work.”

She nodded, likely noting my ability to dance around the implied questions.

“Okay,” she said. “But are you using them?”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say before I said it. Yet I gave her the truth: “I…have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said.

“I agreed to.”

“And what do you get in return?”

I didn’t know the answer to that question–it wasn’t one that I had ever asked myself previously. But I didn’t take this to mean that there wasn’t an answer. It just meant that that answer had yet to be defined. The answer was a feeling in my body.

“I don’t know,” I said, chuckling a little to myself.

“Were I you,” she replied, “I think I’d want a better answer before I start pissing in diapers in the office.”

“I like it.” I didn’t so much say it as I did blurt it. “I like the way…she treats me.”

“Is it, like, the attention?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Attention, combined with power. Combined with humiliation.”

She shook her head, laughing again. “Sounds like a dream come true, then.”

“You think?”

“There’s, what, hundreds of people in this office? All the interns and entry-level grunt workers they’ve had over the years? And you get chosen to be the kinky plaything of the most powerful woman in the company? Crazy.”

“I can pass your name along, if you want,” I said. “Maybe Ms. Heller has room for another baby in her life.”

“Not really my thing,” she said.

“I would’ve said the same thing if someone told me this last week.”

“But now look at you. You’re wearing a diaper.”

She was missing my point, but it didn’t feel important to try and convince her otherwise.

“So?” she said, seemingly circling back on a previous question. My mind was in so many places at once that I wasn’t even sure what she was referring to.

“So?”

“She’s making you use the diapers?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck,” she said, once more shaking her head.

“Do you…like that? I can’t tell.”

“I don’t want to, like, be you,” she said with a smirk. “I don’t want to be told to piss my pants. But, goddamn, what a power move. Can you even imagine? Having such a commanding presence that you can ask some nobody to piss in a diaper, and they do?”

“Hey…”

“Oh come on,” she said, laughing. “I’m a nobody too.”

“Look, nobody can know about this,” I said. “You probably shouldn’t know anything at all, and I definitely can’t have this get back to Ms. Heller.”

“I don’t buy that,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Clark. She made you walk through this entire building while wearing a thick ass diaper filled with baby powder. She doesn’t give two shits if anyone finds out about you.”

“But…”

She shrugged. “It’s another power move, right? She knows you’ll keep her involvement secret, because you have to work twice as hard to hide the fact that you’re a giant toddler now. Incredible, really. I want her to, like, be my mentor.”

“It’s probably best that there’s only one of her in the world.”

“So when are you supposed to go see her again? Do you have to, like, check in with her every so often?”

“Well, I have to report to her when I, uhm, need a–”

“Diaper change?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, that’s so incredible. So it’s not enough that you have to waddle around in the office, peeing your diaper, but you also have to get your diaper changed by her? Like a little baby?”

“I think you’ve got it all figured out,” I said, following with an exhausted sigh. There was more, and no doubt she knew that too. There was me messing myself in Ms. Heller’s office. Being made to pleasure myself in front of her before getting changed. The offer to work as her assistant. Details that were better off keeping to myself. Maybe for just today–maybe forever in some cases.

“Just when I thought this stupid soul-crushing shitstain of a company had nothing to offer me–you come through with all the entertainment I could’ve possibly wanted.”

“You can keep this between us?” I asked. “Right?”

“I want to tell everyone I know,” she said. “So badly. But…”

My heart pounded so fast that I wondered if she could hear it. “But?”

“But I won’t. It’s rare that you get to sit so close to the trainwreck that you can…” she took a long drag of the air through her nose, “...smell it.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling entirely deflated. This had been an incredibly exhausting day already, and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

Time seemed to crawl forward after that. Lyndie, for her part, had busied herself with some school work and some light filing handed to her by Anderson. I expected a constant barrage of ribbing and jokes from her about the diapers–and there were a few, though less than expected.

I knew that I was expected to use the diaper, and I was okay with that inevitability. The challenge was timing. Did I just go whenever I had to? Did I wait until I couldn’t hold it anymore and then let it all go? How often did Ms. Heller think that I was going to come by for a diaper change?

I figured that it was safe to bet she’d be expecting me to come by her office at least one more time during the workday. Thus, I’d have to have at least one more diaper worth changing. I had a handful of small wettings throughout the day–little tests, really, to see that I could. But I could feel the call of my bladder, and I knew that a thorough soaking was in the cards.

Still, I was stuck there in The Closet with Lyndie. I debated getting up and leaving the room. I could waddle down a few random corridors until I found a quiet spot to piss myself. It seemed better than having to do it in front of her. I recalled, however, that I had already done that in front of her once. She didn’t know it, nor did she know about the diapers at the time. And now she knew everything. Or at least more than she did before. And maybe that made staying in The Closet a better choice–if there was even the slightest chance of being exposed to someone, maybe this would have to be my diaper-wetting sanctuary.

“Did you do it?” she asked, seemingly at random.

“Do what?” I asked, though I had a good idea of what she meant.

“Did you make a pee-pee in your diaper?”

I furrowed my brow, not really caring for that mocking tone she was taking. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I think you should tell me.”

“Why? What makes you think I owe you that?” I didn’t mean to sound a little snippy, but I was craving normalcy–the one thing the day had been missing.

“Well, given how much I already know about your little predicament…”

It sounded like blackmail. Not that I thought that she’d run out the door and start telling my secret to strangers. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in this building that she didn’t have to, and I felt confident that she especially didn’t want to talk to said strangers about my diapers. Still, there was power in her knowledge. Maybe she’d never use it, but she could if she wanted to.

She had power now. Power that felt worth respecting.

I gave her the honesty she wanted: “I’m a little damp. But I didn’t, like, full-on wet…” I paused. I wanted to use the word ‘myself,’ but the phrasing of ‘I didn’t full-on wet myself’ sounded as pathetic as it was.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. It came off as a cloying tease, but I chose to take it as genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re committed?” she asked.

“Committed?”

“You could just, like, go to the bathroom, right? Would she even know?”

I shrugged.

“Right,” she said, smiling. “You like this. You want to be her baby.”

I felt my cheeks burning as I tried to think of the right response. But I had nothing.

“It’s cute, I guess,” she said. “Weird. But cute.”

“Thanks.”

“So? Are you going to do it? Are you going to piss your diaper?” She actually seemed to sound excited by it.

“I guess, yeah. Eventually.”

She didn’t say anything, but there was a look on her face. Something was on the tip of her tongue.

“What?” I asked. “Go on, say whatever it is you want to say.”

“I just…” It was a rare look for her–or rare in my relatively short experience of knowing her. She looked a little hesitant; almost bashful.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I just wanted to see,” she said.

I could barely even process what she said, her words made so little sense to me. “What? You want to see…me…pee?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Yeah, I guess so.”

“What, exactly, is it that you want to see?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Ideally? You’d pull your pants down, pee in your diaper, and I’d…watch?”

“Why would you even want to see that?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me? Look around us. Well, you know, open the door of our fucking closet first and then look around. Cubicles. Offices. Tightass robots wearing ironed shirts and silk ties. The most interesting thing going on in this entire building is happening in your pants. It’s kinda gross. But kind of amazing too. So…yeah. I want to see it.”

There were only two choices for an answer: Yes or no. But, really, what did it matter? She already knew. And what she couldn’t see, she would just imagine anyways.

It didn’t matter that it was diapers. Whatever was striking the right chords for me was fundamentally deeper. It was about control and humiliation, and diapers were just the vessel. And for the same reasons that Ms. Heller had been able to sell me on her desires, I found myself wanting to give in to Lyndie’s request. I wanted her to see me wet my diaper. I wanted that humiliation too.

“Okay,” I said.

Her eyes lit up with surprise. “Really?”

I shrugged. “If you really want to see it. I’ll show you.”

“Yes! Oh my god, this is so cool.”

“Cool?” I laughed. “We have very different ideas of what ‘cool’ is.”

“Years from now, I’m going to tell this story at some party. I’ll talk about the guy whose boss made him piss in a diaper. It’s going to be such a fucking hit.”

“Just…leave my name out of that story?”

“Oh please,” she said, “by that time you’ll have moved into Gabrielle’s house as her little baby-pet. She’ll feed you bottles and keep you chained up in the basement. And you’ll fucking love it.”

It seemed doubtful, but that didn’t sound like the worst fate to have.

“If I’m chained up in the basement at that point, feel free to use my name,” I said.

“Excellent. Now, are you going to show me?”

Neither of us really had any doubt as to what the answer was going to be, though it took me another moment or two to get the words out: “Okay, let’s go.”

She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh my gosh. This is so fucking crazy. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

I looked over to the door of The Closet. Though it was closed, and there were no windows looking into our small room, I could just see Anderson or some other guy barging through the door just as I pulled my pants down. I pressed the button on the knob, hearing the satisfying click of the lock. Fingers crossed the lock actually worked.

“Look, this is weird enough as it is,” I said. “Let’s not make this any weirder, okay? I’ll just pull down my pants, do my thing, and then that’s it.”

“What else do you think is going to happen?” she asked. “I doubt I’m going to want to change your diaper or anything like that.”

I sighed and shrugged. “Here we go.”

It was the third time I had pulled my pants down for a woman at work that day, and the second time I had pulled them down for Lyndie. It was almost pathetic how normal this suddenly seemed. I had shown someone my diaper more times than I had done actual work.

“Okay,” she said, crouching down a little to get a better view of my diaper as I stood before her. “So…you’ll tell me when you go?”

“I think you’ll be able to tell,” I said.

I had been feeling more confident about my ability to wet a diaper. I had, after all, done much worse on Ms. Heller’s floor this morning. But standing before Lyndie was something else entirely. She was just as intimidating as Ms. Heller was, but in a completely different way. She wasn’t some powerful executive–she was another student, like me. She was cute. Even kind of charming in her bitter and sarcastic way. I wished we were getting coffee or cocktails together. I wished she was coming by my apartment so we could watch TV together. Instead, she was staring at my stupidly puffy diaper, waiting for me to piss in it.

I wasn’t ready for it to start happening–in fact, I was already prepared to have to concentrate for a few more minutes on getting my stubborn bladder to budge–but I suddenly felt a small trickle. That trickle grew a little heavier, and within seconds it was all just flowing out of me. It was happening, and it was happening right in front of Lyndie’s face. I was so caught up in the feeling of the diaper growing warm and heavy that I had forgotten to say anything to her about it. I couldn’t even remember–was I still supposed to?

“Oh shit,” she said, ensuring that I didn’t need to say anything. “I…I can see it. You’re doing it? You’re doing it! You’re pissing your diaper! Holy fuck.”

Her tone suggested that she was just getting started, but she broke down in hysterical laughter again as I continued to pump more warm liquid into the diaper.

She regained her composure, staring at the bulge between my legs. “Look at it swelling! Holy shit. I just can’t believe I’m watching this right now. A grown man willingly pissing himself? Shit.”

I never thought about humiliation as a turn-on for me before. It was just something I had never been exposed to in that context, so I didn’t know that I wanted it. But Ms. Heller had awoken something in me–and I was curious if it was coincidence or if she knew what she had done. I was only just beginning to understand what humiliation did for me, and…this was but another lesson.

I didn’t even realize what was happening until Lyndie pointed it out. “Clark, oh my god, are you…getting hard in your diaper?”

I had just finished wetting, and with that nominal vacancy in my attention, I shifted my focus to Lyndie’s taunting. ‘A grown man willingly pissing himself?’ was definitely hitting the spot.

“F-fuck,” I stammered, stumbling backwards with my hands over the front of my diaper.

“Jesus, you were, weren’t you? Wow.” She laughed again, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a small shrug. “It’s funny, but it’s kind of, I dunno, cute?”

“Cute?” If I wasn’t blushing before, I was blushing now.

“Maybe not cute,” she said. “But it’s, like, if you’re going to be made to dress like a baby and pee your pants, you might as well like it.”

“I do,” I said softly.

“Yeah? And what turned on you just now, huh? Just the act of pissing a diaper? The excitement of getting changed later?” Her tone had changed. It was more genuine, but still condescending. I felt like I was a little boy, being asked questions by his teacher.

“I guess…all of that?” I said, pulling my pants back up over the wet diaper. “But…humiliation too.”

“Humiliation because I was here?”

“Yeah.”

“Watching you?”

“Yeah…”

“Teasing you about pissing your diapers like a little baby?”

I became completely flustered at that moment. So much so that the world suddenly seemed a little blurry around me. I quickly tucked my shirt back in and straightened my pants. “I…I have to go.”

“Where are you going, baby?” she cooed sarcastically.

“To get my diaper changed,” I blurted out. I immediately cursed myself for having done that, as this had sent Lyndie into another fit of giggles.