Doing Business, Part 6 (Patreon)

Six

Memo to all employees: By special request from our executive team, we are pleased to announce that new garbage cans have been installed in the common area of each floor. These garbage cans use state-of-the-art scent-sealing technology to ensure that even the worst smelling trash won’t permeate your work space.

—

Upon stumbling out of The Closet, I had to take a moment and collect my thoughts. I was feeling a combination of humiliated, aroused, disgusting, and pathetic–and I didn’t know what to do with any of it.

Behind me, back in our little room, Lyndie was laughing to herself about the show I had just put on for her.

Out of the pan and into the fire. In the distance was the executive hallway, and Ms. Heller’s office. I wondered if she was waiting for me. I wondered what she’d say to me. Should I tell her about Lyndie? How would she react to that?

I waddled forward, feeling the heavily squishing bulk shift between my legs with every step. Step. Squish. Step. Slosh. It was an agonizingly slow and embarrassing walk through the office. I watched the employees, busy at their desks or having adult conversations. And there I was, creeping by in a completely soaked diaper with a stiff cock.

I scrambled towards Ms. Heller’s office. I passed the desk where Daniel used to sit. That could be my seat. I hadn’t even begun to think about that proposition yet, and I certainly didn’t have the bandwidth to start thinking about it now.

With a long deep breath, I knocked on the door to her office. I noted that I couldn’t see inside the room from the hallway, which came as a relief to me.

The door opened, and there was Ms. Heller’s smiling face. Behind her, sitting in front of her desk, was another woman that I did not recognize.

“Ah, Mr. Ashburn, it's a pleasure to see you. Come in.”

I offered a bashful nod towards the stranger as I slipped inside. My diaper suddenly felt three times bigger than it had before–a swollen blob of saturated padding that would be visible from space.

“Neve, this is Clark Ashburn, a recent addition to the team.”

“I don’t think we’ve met,” said the woman. She stood up from the chair, revealing how tall and perfect she looked. With her dark skin and long straight hair, she looked like a goddess. And for as much as I’d never want to be ‘that guy,’ it took just about all my power not to stare at her sizable chest–which seemed barely contained within her blouse. As she approached to shake my hand, I had to actually look up to make eye-contact with her. Standing below her, in my sodden diaper, I had never felt so small before.

“A, uhm, pleasure to meet you,” I said, grasping her hand to shake it. Her grip was firm, and I wondered what she could glean about me from my own meager finger-strength.

“Neve Beaufort is VP of Product Development,” Ms. Heller said. “And a dear friend to me.”

I attempted to read Ms. Heller’s face, hoping that I could catch a signal about whether or not this woman knew anything about our arrangement. Or, if she would learn about it eventually. As always, I found her nearly impossible to read.

“And what do you do here, Clark?” asked Ms. Beaufort. What was that accent? French, I suspected. It was incredibly charming.

The truth felt so hilariously insignificant, but I said it anyway: “I’m just an intern.”

“Just?” said Ms. Heller. “No need to be modest. You may be an intern, but his hard work has already caught my attention. I already have him selected to work on some special projects for me.”

“Special projects, hmm?” asked Ms. Beaufort. I couldn’t get a good feel for whether or not that was a code between the two women. “That’s wonderful. I love to see the next generation of leadership taking root.”

“I…can go,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We were just chit-chatting. Girl talk,” Ms. Beaufort said, winking at me. “But I’ll leave you two to it.”

Ms. Heller shot me a naughty look. I couldn’t read her mind, but I could take an educated guess. “Should I ask her to stay?”

Instead: “It was good to see you, Neve. I still owe you a glass of wine, yes? Let’s make that happen soon.”

“That would be perfect,” Ms. Beaufort said. She turned, looking down at me again as she smiled. “And you, Clark, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see big things from you soon.”

Big things like my big fat diaper?

She left the office, and it was once more just myself and Ms. Heller. For a moment, she had nothing to say. She just gazed upon me with a satisfied smirk.

Finally: “I was expecting you to be back sooner.”

“R-really?”

She shrugged. “Give it time, I suppose. Did I tell you about Hillary already?”

The name rang a bell, and with a little bit of quick digging in my recent memories I landed on her name. It had been the first time I met Ms. Heller. She was another assistant, or someone in a position similar to mine. Another plaything.

“Yes,” I said.

“In our prime together, she’d need multiple diaper changes a day–at least four. But now that I think back on it, it took us a while to get to that point. She, too, would hold onto her bladder–and her bowels–far longer than she should’ve. Maybe it’s something you’ll learn in time, Clark. But I implore you to use your diaper more often. As often as you need to. I’ll always be here, and I’ll always have a fresh diaper ready for you. There’s no reason to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll work on that, I guess,” I said.

“But I suppose you came by because you need a diaper change now?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful,” she said, grinning. “And what sort of present did you bring Mommy this afternoon?”

“Uhm…well, I just wet myself.”

“Just,” she said. “You keep saying just. You are not just an intern. You didn’t just wet your diaper. What you’ve done is you’ve committed. You’ve further embraced the position I’ve given you. You’ve returned to me yet again, assuring me that you are as interested in taking on this role as I am in you having it to begin with. Say it again, and don’t let it sound like it has diminished importance.”

I took a deep breath as I thought about her words. I could understand why she was in the position she was, talking like that. “I wet my diaper again.” I realized I forgot an important detail, and I said it again: “I wet my diaper again, for you. Mommy.”

“What a good boy you are. Why don’t you lie down on the ground again. I’ll fetch a new diaper.”

I did as she asked, lowering myself down to her carpet once more. Sitting on the ground in my wet diaper was a new experience. I felt the soggy padding squish beneath me, forcing the wetness to spread into new places. I was sitting somewhere in the vicinity of where I had been that morning. The wet spot I had created on the floor–probably somewhere beneath where I sat at that moment–had probably dried not that long ago.

“If this is going to stick–if you’re committed to this,” she said, “I’d consider some upgrades to this arrangement. At the very least, a changing pad that I could roll out onto the floor. Though I wonder if I could get away with asking for a bigger office. Maybe convert part of it into a nursery?”

The thought of a ‘secret nursery’ in this vast industrial complex sounded as unlikely as it did overwhelmingly humiliating.

I began to open my mouth to respond, but she stopped me. “Where’s your pacifier?”

“In, uh, my pocket?”

“Put it where it belongs,” she said.

I fished it out of my pocket and slid it into my mouth. It was surreal to think that the last person who held this was Lyndie. I had no doubt that Ms. Heller would love that story.

She pulled off my shoes and tossed them aside before pulling my pants off entirely.

“Do you like these?” she asked, holding up my gray boxer-briefs. I felt my face turn crimson as I watched my undergarments dangle from her fingers above me.

I shrugged.

“I won’t pretend that I understand boy’s underpants. These, in particular, seem kind of silly to me. Tighty-whities, I suppose, have a boyish quality to them, so I can understand men wanting to get away from them. But are these that much different? Too cool for briefs, yet not cool enough for boxers?”

I didn’t really have a response to that, not that I should be talking while suckling the pacifier anyways. She was probably right–true boxer shorts always seemed strangely intimidating to me. All that…freedom. I wondered if this helped to build a stronger case for my demotion back to diapers.

I wanted to ask questions about Hillary. I wondered what that was like. I wondered where Hillary was now, and how she felt about it in hindsight. In just two days of diapers, I felt like I had experienced years worth of surreal adventures. What had she endured? What did that look like?

“There’s Little Clark again,” she said, playfully poking at my stiff member after having opened the diaper up. It hadn’t lost its firmness since growing in front of Lyndie’s face–a terrifying moment that I still didn’t know how to address once I returned to The Closet. “I’m not going to let you make your boyish little mess this time, however.”

I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to hear that. It had been incredibly shameful to pleasure myself in front of her–or to have her pleasure me through the diaper. But it had also been weirdly thrilling in a way that nothing else in recent memory had been.

“I know I’ve hinted at it previously, Clark, but perhaps I should say aloud what I’m thinking, regarding your forever-stiff boyhood.”

I drew in a deep breath, bracing myself for what she’d reveal to me now. I tried to predict it, but I had no idea where to even start.

“They make these things,” she said. “Little cages? Chastity? I feel it would be perfect for you.”

I vaguely knew what she spoke of. It was one of those things that I’d unintentionally stumble across on the internet from time to time, usually while tumbling down some strange cyber rabbit hole. My only thought on the matter, previous to now, had been: Why would you do that to yourself? But I immediately got where she was going with this. As with all other things in her game thus far, it was about control. She had claimed control over my bodily functions with the diapers. And now, she proposed controlling my ability to just get off.

“What do you think?” she asked, as she ran damp wipes across my skin.

I let the pacifier roll out of my mouth. “H-how would that work? I get…locked up? And then I just don’t touch myself anymore?”

“There’d be a key, of course. I’d hold onto it. And I’m not a monster. I’d let you out when I felt you had earned it. And you’re a good boy. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to earn those opportunities.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Don’t you already have a lot to think about?”

It shouldn’t have been funny, but it was. I laughed as I stared up at the ceiling, taking in the ever-growing absurdity.

“I’m just giving you options. There’s lots of options, you know.”

At that moment, she guided the moist baby wipe through my ass cheeks, gently pressing on my hole with her finger. This sensation–entirely new to me–sent strange ripples through my body. I couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it seemed adjacent to pleasure.

“Lots of options,” she said again.

For the first time, the words seemed to roll from my mouth without any hesitation or additional thought: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Mmm,” she moaned. “You’re such a smart little boy. A quick learner.”

Her words, cooed to me in that pseudo-babytalk that I was becoming very fond of, made me giddy and I nodded back towards her.

“I have some time,” she said, glancing at her smartwatch. “I could give you something else to taste, besides your pacifier.”

Ever-naive and two steps behind, I foolishly asked: “Like what?”

She laughed. “Have you had pussy before? I’ve prepared some for you.”

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth drop open. “I…well, uhm…”

“Have you ever eaten someone out before, baby?”

“N-no…”

“It’s probably best that you learn now, then. I’ll require a lot of that. Be a good boy and stay there. I’ll come to you.”

She stood again, towering above me. I was still naked from the waist down, though that didn’t seem to matter to her. She slid her black slacks down her legs, exposing the black panties underneath. Twice today, I saw a woman’s panties. Twice today, I saw the panties of a woman I worked with–at work. She worked them down her legs next, revealing her radiating womanhood to me.

I wasn’t a virgin, though my sexual history was embarassingly brief and unexciting. But I had seen pictures. Videos. I had seen enough, I felt, to feel enough authority to know that she looked amazing.

“I’m wet,” she said, as she kneeled down over top of me. She slowly brought her pelvis towards my face. “I’ve been wet all day, really. Thinking about you. Thinking about you wetting your diaper for me. Making that dreadful little mess you pushed into it this morning. I’m in all these meetings and calls today, and I’ve just been wet through all of that–thinking about the next time I get to change your dirty diapers.”

I wanted to say something–acknowledge what she was admitting somehow. “I…”

She put a finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything. Eat me out,” she said. “Start learning.”

I’m not even given the opportunity to respond as she lowers herself on my face. Facesitting, I think–yet another thing I’ve seen, but never thought would be an experience of my own.

She wasn’t lying–she was wet. Soaked, actually, and her juices cascaded over my face. I hesitantly reached my tongue up from my mouth and into her. I wasn’t scared of the act, so much as I was afraid of letting her down. But I could hear her voice in my head: Start learning. And so I began to explore her.

The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced, nor was it what I had expected. It’d be hard to put into words. Bold, perhaps. An overwhelmingly bold taste–a sensation that was every bit as powerful and demanding of attention as she was.

And, as it turned out, I had a lot less to do than I thought–she seemed perfectly fine with grinding herself against my face. I did what I could, searching with my tongue for the sweet spot that would add some extra volume to her moans.

“You’re…close,” she moaned down to me. “So close.”

Was I close? I had sincere doubts that I was doing the bulk of the heavy lifting.

“There,” she said. “There… Right there.”

The tenseness that she had in her body suddenly dissipated, and she seemed to melt over top of me. My face was soaked, while my cock throbbed somewhere out of sight.

We stayed in that position for a few minutes in silence. While I wanted to give her all the time she needed, I didn’t mind the position I was stuck in either–my face still lodged beneath her.

“Let’s get you into a new diaper,” she finally said.

She slid off from me and slowly brought herself to her feet again. She grabbed a baby wipe from the still-open package, guiding it between her own legs.

“In the future, I’d rather you do this for me,” she said. “But today has likely been exciting enough.”

I nodded. I would’ve done it if she had asked. I probably would’ve done anything if she had asked.

She took her time in collecting herself. She slowly stepped into her panties, before pulling them up her slender legs–seemingly positioning herself at the perfect angle to my eyes so I could take in the whole experience. She followed that up with her tight black pants, and finally, slipped her feet into her black heels again.

“Your turn,” she announced, as she picked up the pacifier and slipped it back into my mouth.

She was between my legs again, on her knees, slipping the unfolded fresh diaper beneath me. Out came the baby powder once more. I knew better than to protest. This was how this was going to be from now on. I was going to smell like a baby. I was going to be a baby.

“All done,” she said as she stretched the last of the diaper’s tapes into place. “You’re a free baby.”

As I climbed to my feet, I dropped the pacifier back into my hands. It seemed like there was only one thing to say: “Thank you.”

She smiled–the most genuine smile I had seen from her yet. There was no sinister intent nor condescending teasing to it. “Are you happy with how today went?”

It was a far more complicated question than she knew. The earlier encounter with Lyndie was just the start of something entirely different than what I started with Ms. Heller. Connected, but different.

“I think so,” I said. It was an honest answer. I had no true regrets, nor did I harbor any resentment. It all just was and I needed time and space to think about what it all actually meant to me.

“It’s close enough to the end of the day,” she said. “Why don’t you just leave?”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “Who would even know?”

I laughed and nodded. “Thank you.” It might have sounded like I was thanking her for excusing me early, but it was just residual gratitude for the experiences I had in her office.

“Report to my office first thing tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Yes…Mommy.” I wanted it to sound natural, but the words still felt alien to me. I’d need to work on that.

“Don’t wear the same diaper into my office tomorrow morning,” she said. “That’s how you’re going to get a diaper rash.”

Just the very thought of having something called ‘diaper rash’ at my age felt debilitatingly embarrassing. “But…”

“Right, so you’ll need an extra diaper to take home with you, yes? Maybe a few.”

I wanted to ask her about just how many diapers she had stowed away in this office, but I bit my tongue. She knew what she was doing, and I trusted that she knew what she needed on hand far better than I did.

She returned to her cabinet of baby supplies, pulling out a small stack of diapers–it looked to be three or four. She walked back to me, pushing them into my hands.

“It doesn’t matter to me how quickly you go through these,” she said. “There’s plenty more where these came from. Once you leave this building, feel free to wear as few or as many as you see fit.”

“Yes, uh, Mommy.”

“Though if you do end up wearing them more at home, might I suggest getting yourself some other supplies? You’ll need wipes and baby powder. Maybe some rash cream, just in case.”

I nodded.

“Alright then, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Y-yes,” I said, tripping over my words. “But…”

“I want you to think about some of the things I’ve offered to you today,” she said, seemingly unaware of my efforts to get one last question in. “Chastity. The assistant position. Oh, and you should really think about just using your diaper more often. I shouldn’t have to make you sit on my floor every morning until you fill your diaper.”

“Okay, yes, but…”

“Yes?”

“I…I can’t just carry this stack of diapers through the office,” I said, glancing down at the pile of thick padding.

“Why not?” her lips curled into an amused smile.

“People will see…”

“Shouldn’t they? Shouldn't they know that you’re going to be the office baby from now on? I think you should march through these halls proudly with your diapers in front of you. The sooner you acclimate everyone to seeing you with diapers, the sooner people will understand why you’ll occasionally smell like you need a diaper change, don’t you think?”

My mouth dropped open, and I almost released the diapers from my grip. This felt so far beyond anything that we had talked about previously. “R-really? You think…I should…”

She began to laugh and she shook her head. “I’m teasing you, Baby. Oh, gosh, you should have seen the look on your face!”

My face felt like it was on fire and I had to catch my breath as my body began to function again.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, thank god. I almost had a heart attack there.”

She laughed again, patting me on the back. “Let me get you a bag for those. It’s far too soon to expose you as a baby to the entire office.”

I looked at her, again, with a terrified expression painted on my face.

She winked playfully, and I had no idea what that meant.