Doing Business, Part 20 (Patreon)

Twenty

Ted Lemire.

I have no idea who he is. I don’t know what his job title is. I don’t know how long he’s worked here. But I walk past his desk about five times a day, everyday. And every time I see him, he looks absolutely stressed out. His monitors look like abstract art, with charts and graphs zig zagging in all directions. Documents and file folders litter his cubicle. I never see him taking a break. He’s just always at his desk. Working. Stressing.

And there I was, sitting at my cubicle with nothing to do.

Well, just about nothing. I had a task–but it didn’t require my computer. Or paperwork.

I wondered what would happen if Ted Lemire and I had a chat. Maybe we’d meet at the watercooler one day and he’d get to venting about how overloaded he was. He’d talk about how much work there was to do, and so little time to do it. The company was working him too hard, and they weren’t paying him well enough.

“But enough about me,” he’d say. “Are they keeping you busy right now?”

“Well…not especially. Honestly, the only thing I’ve got on the docket today is to poop my pants by lunchtime. So…I guess I’m working on that right now.”

Ted Lemire, a man who was clearly working himself to the bone, would probably punch me in the face.

Note to self: Maybe don’t engage in any conversations with Ted.

I kept thinking about Ted as I sat in my cubicle, staring into space because I had so little to do. There were hundreds of Teds in this building, as best as I could tell. And then there was me. Literally just sitting around until I worked up the nerve to push a mess into the seat of my pants.

I was conflicted. It didn’t seem very fair…but wasn’t this the dream? Well. A fucked-up kinky version of the dream. But a dream regardless.

“Well, well,” a voice said, interrupting my ethical quandary. I knew that voice quite well–Lyndie. I almost leaped out of my chair, excited to see her. “Look who I’ve found.”

“Lyndie,” I said, standing up. “I…I’m sorry I wasn’t very good about getting back to your texts this weekend. I had a lot going on and…”

“Shush,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Where’s your desk?” I asked. “Are you seated somewhere around here now too?”

Lyndie laughed, blushing a little. “Oh…you didn’t hear?”

“Hear?” I asked. “Hear what?”

“They didn’t give me a cubicle.”

“What? That doesn’t seem right. Where are you supposed to work? Do they just expect you to wander the halls aimlessly now until you’re needed for something?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, silly. I don’t have a cubicle because…I got an office.”

“A-an office?” I was completely flabbergasted. “But…just last week we were interns. And now you have an office?”

She laughed again, shrugging. “Seems kinda surreal, huh?”

“But how? Why?”

“I guess the powers-that-be had been advocating for a…” her tone dropped a little as she leaned in towards me, “...nursery for a little while. And now they have one, which doubles as my office.”

I thought of poor Ted Lemire again, toiling away for who-knows-how-long at his cubicle.

“It makes sense,” Lyndie said. “The logistics of changing stinky diapers in the executives’ offices were quite challenging. And now, there’s a place for that–separated from where the wrong person might see or smell something they shouldn’t.”

“I can’t believe they’ve gone this long without something like that,” I said.

“Better late than never,” she replied, shrugging. “Anyhoo, I heard about the little project Gabrielle has you working on this morning.”

“Y-you know about that? She told you?”

“Well she didn’t just directly say that to me. It was just in a memo she sent to the rest of the executive team.”

“Wait, what? She sent out a memo? To…multiple people? What exactly did she say?”

“Nothing much–she just detailed your itinerary today.”

“But she didn’t give me anything to do except…”

“You have a tight deadline,” she said. “Lunch, right? Think you’ll be able to fill that diaper by then?”

“S-she told everyone about that?”

Lyndie nodded.

My cheeks felt red. Actually, they felt like they were on fire. Given everything that I had experienced recently–especially that little ceremony in the conference room last week–nothing should’ve surprised me. But the idea of memos being sent out to a group of people, without my knowledge, talking about the dirty little tasks that Ms. Heller had given me? It made my heart want to pound right out of my chest.

“I know it’s embarrassing,” she said. “But it’s not like you’re the only one they talk about. Neve Beaufort, for example, shared some photos of her feeding Ava this morning. I’d argue that’s just as humiliating, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose,” I said. Was that more humiliating than everyone knowing that I had a limited amount of time to fill my diaper? I didn’t think so, but maybe Ava would’ve said the same thing about her embarrassment.

“So?” Lyndie asked, a playful look on her face. “How’s your, uh, job going?”

“Oh, it’s, uhm…”

“I’m going to assume it hasn’t happened yet. For obvious reasons.”

I shook my head.

“Tick tock, Clark.”

“I know, I know.”

“Think you’ll be done in time?”

I had been wondering the same thing myself. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be a problem. ‘Lunchtime’ seemed ill-defined, but assuming that it was noon, I had about an hour to go. And I certainly had–for lack of better phrasing–a bullet loaded in the chamber, ready to go. My body had expected my morning constitutional by now, and the fact that I hadn’t gone yet was being responded to with some occasional cramping in my belly.

It was more of a psychological thing. Obviously, it wouldn’t be the first time I messed my diaper at work. But this still felt different. I wasn’t alone with Mommy in her office. I wasn’t locked in The Closet while a suppository took away my agency. I was out in the open now, and my diaper wasn’t going to get used unless I could bring myself to use it.

“Maybe,” I finally answered.

“You can do it,” she said, smiling. “I believe in you.”

In the context of what we were talking about, her faith in me seemed absurd. Still, I needed to hear that–just as I needed to see her again.

“Thank you.”

“And how about your, uhm, cage?” she asked. “How is that going?”

That seemed to be the topic du jour, though it wasn’t hard to see why.

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Perhaps nobody else besides Ms. Heller could appreciate my plight as much as Lyndie. She’d changed the worst of my diapers, and she had seen for herself how turned that had made me.

“It’s an adjustment, for sure,” I said.

“I bet. But it’ll be good for you.”

“You think? How so?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Just think of how great it’ll be when she finally unlocks you.”

“I suppose,” I said, looking down as my cheeks warmed. “If she chooses to unlock me.”

“I’m sure she will. Eventually.”

Eventually. That could be today. Or next week. Or…a year from now. My stomach twisted, just thinking about being stuck in this thing for the next few months with no hope of relief.

“Well I should get going,” she said. “I promised Nancy that I’d go check on Bradley for her. She decided to start diaper-training him. You know, now that I’m around to do the diaper changes.”

“Good luck with that.”

She laughed. “If you think you’re timid, you ought to see him. I swear, the little wimp should’ve been in diapers years ago.”

And just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone again, leaving me to my own devices–sitting at my new cubicle, pondering the hows and whens of pooping my pants.

I felt the slightest ache in my bladder, and I decided that this was as good a place to start as any. I was getting used to wetting my diaper. It was starting to feel normal. With just the slightest amount of effort, I could feel the warm wetness hitting the padding and spreading throughout the front of the diaper.

Regardless of how normal it was starting to seem, it still felt good. Great, even. It was hard to pinpoint the reason why, but wetting myself while in the chastity cage seemed to enhance the pleasure I got from it. My best guess as to why was that it just held my cock in the perfect position to saturate the diaper–but it was just as likely that it simply felt naughtier while caged.

It was easy–too easy, perhaps–to get lost in that moment. I suddenly remembered I was in the office, in my cubicle, still. People were scurrying around, doing actual work. Ted Lemire was probably neck-deep in tasks at his desk. And there I was, reeling in the pleasure of a soaked diaper.

Calm down. Let’s not make a big scene about this… Easy for me to say, considering that I was seconds away from grinding my torso back and forth in my office chair to rub against my wet diaper.

A little too self-conscious, I scrambled to at least try and look like I was being productive. I opened a few windows on my computer and stared at my screen like I was in the midst of some project.

Nothing to see here, co-workers. Just a normal working-man doing my job.

But wetting my diaper had done more than just making my pants warmer. It seemed to have sent a signal to the rest of my body that it was time to empty out everything. The stress in my bowels seemed to have doubled–tripled–in the last few minutes.

It wouldn’t take much for me to just push everything into my diaper. I had no doubt that I could do it, and do it quickly. The challenge was in the timing. If I was to do it now, could I just waltz into Ms. Heller’s office and proclaim that I needed a change? Or would she cast me out, telling me to return at ‘lunch?’ What then? Run around the building in a smelly diaper for the next however-long until she was ready to change me?

Or, I could play it safe and wait until it was actually lunch, load my diaper then, and then report to her.

Though… Maybe she’d see that as me cutting it a little too close. She didn’t ask me to fill my diaper at lunchtime–she asked me to do it before.

I took a deep breath in an effort to center myself. I knew what had to be done, and there probably wasn’t any better time than the present.

I glanced over to Ms. Heller’s office. The door was closed. Maybe that meant she was busy or in a meeting. Or maybe she just wanted her door closed. But I was pretty sure she was alone. I’d have seen if someone walked into her office, right? Had I been that distracted by wetting myself.

No. I was pretty sure that she was alone in her office. Sure enough.

The plan was rather simple: Mess my diaper and then burst into Ms. Heller’s office to show her what I had done. Ideally, I’d accomplish all of this within less than half a minute. I wasn’t sure how long I could dally on the office floor in a dirty diaper before others could smell what I did, but it couldn’t have been long. Perhaps even 30 seconds was too much time.

Just focus. You can do this.

I looked around again. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help myself. This was different. There were people around me. People I didn’t know. People who didn’t know me. People who I might one day know if I stuck around with this company. And could there be a worse reputation to have than ‘the new guy who pooped his pants?’

You’re overthinking this.

I wasn’t the first person this ever happened to in this building, I knew that. Hillary–Ms. Heller’s last ‘assistant.’ She too had been kept in diapers. And there’s no way that, at some point, she hadn’t been expected to fill her diapers per Ms. Heller’s request. Right?

But Hillary isn’t here anymore. And you’d have to wonder why that is. Was there a line she wasn’t willing to cross?

Another deep breath. I needed to stop thinking about it and just do it. I had a simple plan, and it seemed best to stick to it. The sooner it was done, the sooner I could see Ms. Heller. And the sooner I saw Ms. Heller, the sooner I could get a change.

I took one last glance around. The immediate area around me seemed quiet enough. There probably wasn’t going to be a better time than this. And so…

Here we go.

I pushed. Everything rushed out of me and into the diaper, all at once. It was much louder than I had expected it to be, a wet ripple that seemed to cut right through the local noise of shuffling papers, footsteps, and keyboards clacking.

The mess itself–a soft mush with seemingly no shape or form–instantly filled the diaper, squelching its way into every available nook and cranny.

From my vantage point, it couldn’t have been more obvious what happened. And for an incredibly hazy moment, I was unsure if the world around me had stopped to see what I had done or not.

But I heard the click-clack of typing. People talking about reports. Footsteps of people walking past my cubicle.  Nobody was coming to investigate. Nobody was asking me if I was alright. Nobody was standing up in the middle of the office and loudly proclaiming that someone has just shit their pants.

I shifted a little in my office chair, feeling the gooey mess squish and contort between my body and the padding. I really wished that I hadn’t done that–the feeling between my legs had been as delightful as it was disgusting. I felt my helpless cock straining in my cage as I fought against the temptation to just continue shifting back and forth in my dirt diaper.

Alright. The hard part was done. Now, to show Ms. Heller that I had completed my task.

I was actually proud of myself. The very first task I was given by Mommy, and I absolutely crushed it–as evidenced by the thick mass that was causing my diaper to sag within my pants.

But I had to move now. It had only been seconds–certainly less than the half-minute I had planned for–and I could already begin to smell the putrid fumes wafting from my pants. I started walking, finding that the swampy diaper had reduced my stride to a pathetic waddle. My pace was quick, but careful, trying to mitigate sloshing around the mess I had made more than I had to.

I lifted my hand to knock on Ms. Heller’s door, but I opted against it at the last moment. I was her assistant. Sure, maybe she kept me in diapers and treated me like a literal infant–but she still entrusted me with the title. If anyone could barge into her office, let it be me.

I quickly opened the door and rushed inside, closing the door behind me.

I immediately went into it: “Mommy, I did it. Just as you asked. It took me a while. But…well…I did exactly what you wanted me to do and…”

I trailed off at the end, as I turned around from the door to see that Ms. Heller wasn’t alone. Sitting down on the other side of the desk was Ms. Beaufort herself. Both looked absolutely delighted to see me.

I panicked, turning back towards the door again. “M-maybe I should come back later.”

“No, no,” Ms. Heller said. “Please, Baby, come over here.”

My heart beat like a jackhammer as I slowly turned back towards the women.

“Now then,” Ms. Heller continued. “What were you saying? What did you accomplish?”

“M-my task,” I said, looking towards Ms. Beaufort nervously. “The one…you asked me to do.”

“And could you please remind me what that specific task was?” she asked. “I think Ms. Beaufort would be curious herself.”

“I…well…”

“Go on, sweetpea,” cooed Ms. Beaufort. I couldn’t help but glance down at her chest for just the briefest of moments.

“I…used my diaper like you asked me to.”

“Used?” Ms. Heller asked. “Be more specific.”

“I…messed my diaper.”

“Oh,” Ms. Beaufort said, voice rich with mock-astonishment. “Is that what that smell is?”

“It would seem so,” Ms. Heller said, playing along. “Maybe the little baby ought to come closer so that we can have a closer look.”

I sighed, waddling towards Mommy–already knowing where this was headed. Ms. Beaufort would just be the latest on a growing list of people who had been exposed to my dirty diapers.

And, meanwhile, Ted Lemire was somewhere on the other side of the office door–working his ass off.