Doing Business, Part 13 (Patreon)

Thirteen

Memo to all employees: A pink baby’s pacifier was found yesterday in a 4th floor hallway. We assume it belongs to one of you fine parents who works for our organization. We’d hate to throw away your infant’s pacifier, and so if you feel you may have accidentally dropped one please stop by the main reception desk on the first floor to claim it.

Thank you!

—

I made the morning waddle across the sea of cubicles once more, a freshly flooded diaper hanging off my bottom. I had changed out of the previous night’s dirty diaper not long after Lyndie had left, and I had vowed to keep the new diaper clean for as long as I could. That lasted until I got onto the train.

The diaper’s moisture was still warm. It felt good on my skin.

“Right on time,” Ms. Heller said as I walked into her office. “A punctual baby is a good baby.”

I was thinking about lasagne on the train ride. A strange thing to think about–especially after wetting a diaper and having to sit in it. But I recalled how, when I was a kid, I loved lasagne. Yet when I wasn’t eating it, and I just thought about it, it was hard to recall what set it apart from similar dishes that I knew I didn’t have as strong feelings about. Stuffed shells. Manicotti. Even a bowl of spaghetti. What made lasagne, in particular, so amazing?

But I would instantly remember the reason when a plate of lasagne was sitting in front of me. It wasn’t just the ingredients–the same ingredients shared with many other dishes my mother and grandmother made. It was the arrangement of the ingredients. It was the way that every bite had the perfect proportion of each ingredient.

When I wasn’t around Ms. Heller, I could think about how gorgeous she was. How naughty her imagination was. How amazing she made me feel. But stepping into her office again, I was reminded that the experience of being in the same place as Mommy was something that my memories had a tough time conveying.

It was the way she talked, and her use of tones. It was her body language. The way she looked at me. There was just something about her aura that I couldn’t fully appreciate unless I was in the same room as her.

I closed the door behind me, already feeling myself practically melting in her presence.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Here for your morning change?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She said nothing and just lifted her eyebrows. I realized my error.

“Yes, Mommy,” I said.

“I got a changing pad,” she said, pulling a folded mat out from her closet. “It’s not the office nursery I’d like, but it’s a good start. Off with the shoes and pants, Baby.”

She walked out from behind her desk as she unfurled the pad into the center of the office floor–probably the exact spot I had previously messed myself at her request. Meanwhile, I quickly kicked off my shoes, not even bothering to untie them, and shoved my black slacks to the ground before stepping out of them.

“Very soggy,” she observed. “You did good to come to Mommy.”

Her approval meant everything to me. It was a small dopamine hit on top of the countless other hits I got from being in the same room with her.

I didn’t need her to tell me what to do next, I knew what was expected of a baby like me. I lowered myself to the ground, laying down on the changing pad so that she could change my diaper.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked.

My heart raced. I wonder if she knew about Lyndie coming over to my house. Did Lyndie text her? Was there some sort of secret conversation that took place in Mommy’s office this morning before I stopped in?

“It was, uhm, good,” I said, bracing myself for further inquisition.

“Good,” she said as she returned to her cabinet of baby supplies.

I took a deep breath, realizing I was being overly paranoid. There hadn’t been secret meetings or communications between Lyndie and Ms. Heller.

“Are you using your diapers at home?” she asked me.

“Y-yes,” I said. “Some.”

“Some?”

I hadn’t really thought about it as just being in diapers 24/7. Once I got home, I had options. I had the option to use the toilet if I wanted to. But now that I was laying here, waiting for my diaper to be changed, it occurred to me that it had been a few days since I last used a toilet at all. Regardless of what I could do, I was wearing–and using–my diapers full time now.

“Actually,” I said, “it’s been nothing but diapers for the last few days.”

“Are you content with that?”

“Yes,” I said, with a speedy confidence that surprised even myself.

“We need to make sure you don’t run out of diapers, then,” she said.

“Should I get more?”

“I’ve already taken care of that for you,” she said. “I pulled your address from your HR file and I have an order ready to go. You should be getting a sizable delivery very soon.”

“Th-thank you,” I said, quickly adding: “Mommy.”

I imagined that it would be Evan intercepting the delivery. For as uncertain as I was about involving him in my weird new world the night before, I was now glad that he had a heads up before he came in contact with god-knows how many boxes of adult diapers.

“We have some things to discuss today,” she said, closing the cabinet and walking back to me, arms full of supplies.

“Okay.”

“First thing’s first–have you given any thought to my job offer?”

“Yes. I mean… Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. And, how are you feeling about it?”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “I…I would very much like to be your assistant.”

She grinned, softly stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. “I am so very pleased to hear that, Clark. I don’t think you’ll regret this decision. I’ll have all the arrangements made for you today.”

Her excitement about my decision only empowered me, and I was feeling good about pleasing her.

Her hands were on my diaper, and she quickly pulled up the tapes before peeling back the front of the diaper, letting it flop onto the ground with a wet SQUISH sound.

“This is more than a job,” she said. “It's a commitment to being my baby. I do want to make sure we’re on the same page about that.”

“Yes, Mommy,” I said. “Please.”

“You’ll do as I ask? Always?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

For the first time, I noticed what she was holding–a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. Women’s shaving cream, ‘Raspberry Haze’ scented, per the can’s label.

“We’ve talked about this before,” she said, “but I feel it’s important that we get rid of all this silly hair in your diaper area. It’s just going to get in the way. Besides, it doesn’t seem right for someone being kept in a diaper.”

I blushed at the mention of ‘diaper area,’ though I still nodded. I had forgotten about that conversation, but I didn’t disagree that the hair should go. Truthfully, I found the idea kind of exciting. She was leaving her mark on me, albeit temporarily–or until the next time she shaved away my pubic hair. Anytime after this moment, when I was to look at or feel my crotch, I’d be reminded of what she did to me.

She spread the pink cream over my dark brambley hair, covering it all. The scent–vaguely sweet and berry-ish–wafted to my nose as she let it sit for a moment as she prepared the razor.

Chastity, I thought. I need to ask her about chastity. This seemed like a good time to do it, I just needed to work up the courage to get the words out.

“My previous assistant,” she said. “Hillary?”

It occurred to me that I was feeling a pinch of jealousy when I heard that name. It was no fault of Hillary’s, I would expect their relationship to leave lasting memories with Ms. Heller. I just hoped that one day, I’d surpass however it was that Hillary made her feel.

“She got a tattoo, you know. Right here,” she continued, poking the patch of foam-coated pubic hair above my limp cock. “Well she didn’t have quite the same apparatus as you, but you know what I mean.”

I nodded. “What…sort of tattoo?”

“A pink heart,” she said. “It said ‘Mommy’ inside of it. Wasn’t that sweet? A permanent tribute to her Mommy, right on her little girl parts.”

I swallowed hard and my heart began to race. “Y-yes. Very cute.”

She laughed, likely noticing how nervous this story had made me. “I’m not asking you to get a tattoo for me. Not now, not ever. Unless you want to, of course. But that’s your prerogative. No, I’m telling you this story because I want you to know that this commitment goes both ways. You’re becoming my baby. I’m becoming your Mommy. I want you to feel so well cared for and happy that you could one day see yourself making such a permanent gesture of thanks for me without doubting it.”

I loved the sentiment, though I was curious about how Hillary felt about her tattoo now. Or her husband, for that matter. A tattoo that reads ‘Mommy’ just above her pussy wouldn’t ever be an easy thing to have to explain to anyone else.

The head of the razor was lowered onto my skin, and she began to pull it through my hair. It was that easy. No pain or burning or anything like that. Just the softest, slightest, movements and suddenly the hair was gone. One strip at a time, she reduced the pubic hair’s acreage. And then it was all gone. Bare empty skin. I hadn’t seen such a thing since I was, maybe, 12 years old. It was a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but it was an effective one. She had just removed years from my age, even if we were the only ones who knew it. For now.

She cleaned off the last remnants of cut hair and shaving cream with a baby wipe, while smiling at her handiwork. I smiled too, happy to have made a small sacrifice for her.

“Have you made any stinkies lately?” she asked.

My cheeks turned pink. I disliked the term ‘stinkies,’ though I could imagine that was exactly why she used a word like that.

“N-no, Mommy.”

“How long has it been?”

“Not since…here. In your office.”

“The day before yesterday? Clark, that’s not good at all. Not even at home? In your potty?”

Potty. I felt my cheeks warm further. I shook my head.

“You must be bursting at the seams.”

Except I didn’t think that I was. Sure, the feeling had crept up once or twice in the last day or two, but I had somehow been able to stave off the urges. But now that I was thinking about it again…I could feel some pressure down there. Maybe it was an easier thing to put off when I wasn’t thinking about it. It had been masked by the stress of humiliation–both at the hands of Mommy and Lyndie.

“I…well…”

“No excuses, Baby. You’re going to have to start filling these diapers up, do you understand? Not just your pee-pees. I expect you to be doing your poo-poos in them too.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“I can’t watch you 24/7, Clark. So I need you to be a good boy who uses his diapers for Mommy.”

I nodded again.

“Alright, let’s get you into a new diaper.”

I already had my pacifier in my hand. I didn’t put it in my bag this morning–I put it in my pocket. I slipped the rubber bulb between my lips, noting her approving nod. Such was the routine for a diaper change, as I had been previously advised.

The old soggy blob was pulled out from under me. Already able to anticipate what she needed from me, I kept my legs open for her, giving her access to wipe up my bottom and between my legs.

And then it happened–her fingertip pressing into my backdoor. She had done this once before while changing my diaper. And as I had the last time, I let out a little moan as I felt her finger enter my ass.

But it felt…different. I couldn’t exactly say how this experience differed from the first time, but there was definitely some sort of variance.

“Baby likes his bottom being played with,” she said to herself. “Believe me, I can’t wait to spend more time with that.”

I said nothing, just biting down on the pacifier.

“I should be honest with you, Baby,” she said. “I’ve put something into you.”

I opened my mouth, letting the pacifier roll out of it and onto the floor. “Wh-what do you mean…into me?”

“I can’t have you toddling about with uncomfortable bowels. It’s not good for you. So I slipped something into your bottom to help take care of that.”

“What…was it?”

“A suppository,” she said, maintaining her evergreen sense of calm. “I keep some on hand for such situations. Hillary would get a little backed up sometimes, and she’d need some help.”

“I don’t know anything about suppositories, Ms. Heller. Er…Mommy. What’s going to happen? Is it going to…hurt?”

She laughed. “Silly baby, not at all. You may feel some cramping, but that’s just the suppository doing its job. Now, the package says it can take up to an hour to work, but in my experience, it’s usually a bit less.”

“But what happens after an hour?”

“You go,” she said. “In your case, you’ll go directly into your diaper. Probably fill the whole thing up, too.”

“B-but, Mommy…I’m at work and…”

“And I suspect you’ll be in your little broom closet when it happens. And then you’ll just come scurry over here so that I can change you. You’ll be fine.”

“But…”

“It’s too late to complain about it,” she said. “It’s in you. It’s working its magic on you as we speak. And when the time comes–regardless of where you are or what you’re doing–you’re going to fill that diaper and bring it back to me so that I can clean you up. And maybe then you’ll have learned a little lesson about making poo-poos in your diaper more regularly.”

I had more to say. More to ask. More to whine, really. But I sighed and kept my mouth shut, reaching to the side to grab my pacifier so I could put it back in my mouth again. There was no discussion to be had. She was going to do what she wanted to do, and I would let her. That’s just the way these things were going to work now.

“It’ll be easier soon,” she said, as she unfolded a fresh diaper, flattening it out on the ground. “You’ll be sitting closer to my office. You’ll be seeing me more throughout the day as my assistant. Things like diaper checks and changes will just be part of our routine.”

It all seemed impossible to grasp at this moment, as all I could really focus on was the inevitability of loading my diaper sometime soon. I took the pacifier out of my mouth again.

“Could I just stay here? Until I used my diaper? You know, like I did the other morning?”

“No can do, Baby. I have a meeting here in about ten minutes. Once I’m done, I’ll let you know. If you haven’t popped yet, you’re welcome to come back and do your business here. But if it happens before my meeting is out…well, you’ll just have to wait a few minutes.”

What else was there to say? “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. Now then, let’s get this diaper on you.”

Soon, I was waddling back towards The Closet with a fresh diaper on. Smelling like a fresh burst of baby powder. A suppository shoved up my backside that turned me into a bomb that could go off at any moment.

I didn’t think I felt any different. Yet. But how would I know when I felt anything? What would that be like?

“Good morning, Baby,” Lyndie cooed to me as I strolled into The Closet. Funny how I had been called ‘Baby’ more than ‘Clark’ today.

I shut the door and locked it.

“You ok?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

“I have to tell you something,” I said. “But…it’s kind of crazy. And gross.”

She laughed. “Crazier than wearing diapers for your boss? Crazier than wearing a diaper in front of the pizza delivery girl? Crazier than me pleasuring you in your diaper until…”

“Yes,” I said, cutting her off. “Probably.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was just over at Mommy…er…Ms. Heller’s office.”

“Was she changing your diaper?” Lyndie asked.

I was blushing. Again. “Y-yes. But while she was doing it she…put something in me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. She put something in you?”

“Like…her finger,” I said. “She put her finger in me and…”

“Oh, like up your bum?” she asked. She giggled. “Clark, that’s okay. It’s good to explore your body, you know? Don’t get upset if you never knew how good it felt to be touched there. I had this boyfriend once who…”

“No, no,” I said. “I mean…yes…I guess I liked that or whatever, but that’s not what I’m trying to tell you. She was pushing an object into my ass.”

“Object? A…toy?”

“Suppository,” I said.

She looked confused, and I watched her try to piece together what that meant. “Wait, but don’t people use them when they need to… Oh.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“So…you’re going to…”

“I don’t know when. All I know is that sometime soon…I’m going to…go. In my diaper.”

“And she didn’t want you to do that in her office?”

“She has a meeting.”

“So she expected you to just…do that here?”

I nodded.

“You’re going to shit your diaper here?”

I nodded again. “It has to happen here. I have to stay right here until it happens. I can’t go anywhere else, because I can’t risk anybody else seeing it happen.”

The smile had faded from her face a little as she nodded. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Maybe… I don’t want to ask too much. But maybe I could just get some privacy? Like, maybe you could leave for a little bit and come back later? I could let you know when it's done. I just don’t think I want to do this in front of you. Nor do I think you want to see me use my diaper like that.”

But suddenly the smile was back on her face again. “Are you kidding me, Clark? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m staying right here with you.”