Called Into Work [Tier 2 and 3 Exclusive] (Patreon)

[Censorship Warning: Patreon objected to one particular word in this story, and wouldn't you know it, it's a word that gets used a lot here. Apologies for awkward asterisks.]

I shouldn’t even be at work today. I had requested the day off weeks ago in preparation for Bebe’s visit, and it had even been approved.

And yet, here I was, sitting at my desk in the office, going through customer emails and trying to troubleshoot mundane issues that I couldn’t even begin to care about.

I probably could’ve avoided having to come in if I really wanted to. I mean–Bebe was at my apartment right now. That seemed like reason enough not to be here. But office politics were complicated. Sarah was out with the flu and Norman was on the verge of being canned for performance issues. The work had to get done, and if I hadn’t come in, my boss would’ve found a way to make me suffer somewhere down the road.

I text Bebe to check in on her.

-Hey. What are you up to?

I set down my phone to get back to the emails, but my phone vibrates almost immediately.

-Hey you. Just chilling on your couch. Keeping it warm for you.

-I appreciate that. I wish I was there.

-Me too.

It’s not the end of the world. She’s visiting for a week, and this is just the first day. My boss still assures me that today is the only day I need to be here–the rest of the week is still all mine. I’m holding him to that.

-What time are you done?

-5:00, sadly.

-Any chance you’ll get done sooner? I miss you.

We’ve barely spent any time together since her arrival late last night. She had fallen asleep on the ride home from the airport, and we talked for about 10 minutes once we got back to my apartment–only for her to fall asleep on the couch again. I carried her to my bed, where I snuggled with her adorably snoring body for the first time in six months before falling asleep myself.

-I miss you too. You know how work is, though. I promise, I’ll be home as soon as I can.

-I know you will. I’m sorry - I won’t bother you while you’re at work.

-Don’t be sorry. I don’t want to be here today, so you should distract me as much as possible.

-Be careful what you wish for.

-No, I mean that. Text me to your heart’s content.

-If I must.

There’s a knocking sound from the wall of my cubicle. I turned to find my boss, Stanley, standing there with his usual aura of stress and sleeplessness.

“Hey, Ben, you know you’re not really supposed to have your cell phone out while you’re on the clock…”

Typical Stanley, harping on the stupidest rules.

“Well, I’m not even supposed to be here today, remember?”

“Right, but rules are still rules and…”

I have to think quickly on my feet. It seems unfair to nitpick about my cellphone when I was giving up my day off–especially when I was the only fully functioning member of the team at the moment. But he’s still my boss.

“My, uh, mother just flew in from across the state,” I say. “That’s why I took the week off, you know? She’s not in the best of health, so I need to check in on her often while she’s home alone.”

I can hear my phone vibrating on my desk.

He grimaces and runs a hand through his thinning hair. I can tell that he doesn’t want to make an exception. But he’s also a human, and it’d be hard for anyone to say no to that.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “But could you at least, like, try not to be so obvious about it? I don’t want everyone else around here thinking they can be on their phones all day.”

“Of course,” I say. “Thank you.”

No sooner than he walks away, I check my phone to see the latest message from Bebe.

-I was pretty sure I woke up at one point during the night because I was wetting myself. But I woke up this morning and my diaper was dry.

-That’s because I changed your diaper when I woke up.

-Really? And I slept through that?

-You must’ve been pretty tired, because you didn’t stir once.

-Thank you.

-Daddy.

There it is. That’s the word I was waiting to see. My heart melts a little and I feel a little tent growing in my pants under my desk. I really wish I was home right now. I want to see Bebe in her diaper. I want her to sit in my lap. I want her to whisper the word ‘Daddy’ directly into my ear.

I go back to the email queue and quickly respond to one of the easier issues. Then I send a text back to Bebe.

-Are you going to behave yourself today, while you’re all alone?

I set the phone down and pull another email from the queue. This is how I’ll get through my workday today: For every email I answer, I’ll reward myself by checking my phone and responding to Bebe if she’s texted me.

I hear the phone vibrate, but I fight the temptation to look at the screen. Instead, I focus on the task at hand. Bethany from Rochester says that she should’ve gotten 45% off her order, but her invoice only shows a 35% off discount. I can see what the issue is–the promotion had different tiers of discounts based on how much you spent, and Bethany hadn’t met the threshold for 45% off. But…fuck it. I don’t feel like explaining this to her, so instead I give her the additional 10% off and apologize for any inconvenience.

Okay, good. Back to my phone.

-Daddy, you know better than to trust me while I’m unsupervised.

-But I could still punish you later if I know you’re being a bad little girl now.

I set the phone down again, this time face-down so that the glowing screen doesn’t bring extra temptation when she texts back. And a response to my text comes almost immediately. My instinct is to grab the phone and peek, but I stop myself.

Instead, I’m dealing with Casey’s issue. She ordered three pairs of shorts, but only received two. She’s absolutely right, and I’m delighted to simply just have another pair shipped to her.

-That’s a future-baby problem. I’m going to be naughty all day, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

-You’re going to regret that.

I begrudgingly set the phone down again to take another email. Some idiot from Wisconsin wants to know why our website doesn’t sell DVDs. My response is brief and to the point: “We’re an apparel company. We’ve never sold DVDs, and it’s unlikely that we will in the future.”

-Daddy, I think I’m gonna make a pee-pee in my diaper right now.

-That seems like a bad idea to me, Baby. I won’t be home for a long time, and you’re not very good at changing your own diapers.

-That’s okay, I can–

I put the phone down, realizing that I’m already breaking my one rule. I can read the rest of that text after the next email. Glynn in Newfoundland wants to know why we’re no longer selling the ‘cherry socks.’ I have no idea what Glynn is talking about, and a hasty search through our product catalog reveals nothing matching that description. My response is simply a query for more information from the customer. Easy.

-That’s okay, I can just wear this diaper until you come home.

-I’m not sure that’s very wise either, Baby. You could get a diaper rash.

I start to set the phone down on my desk, but I take a look around and see that nobody else around me is paying attention. Hell, Jackie is at her own cubicle with her feet kicked up on her desk while watching a video on her phone. I hold onto my phone a little longer, eagerly anticipating Bebe’s next text.

Too late…

-What do you mean?

-I mean…I already went potty in my diaper.

-When?

-Just now.

-You wet your diaper?

-Uh huh.

I’m a little frustrated by this news. Not because she wet herself–she’s in diapers. I’d expect her to be doing that. I’m just, again, frustrated by having to be at work. Living a few hours away from each other, we’re always too far apart. And now, when she’s literally on my living room couch and wetting herself, I still can’t be right there with her.

-Does it feel good?

-Yes, Daddy. Very good.

-I wish I was there to feel it for myself.

-It’s very very wet, Daddy. I think you’d like it.

I feel my cock swelling further in my pants. I swear, if Stanley was here, I’d knock him out with my keyboard and I’d make a run for it. Sure, I could just make a run for it now…but I’d like the satisfaction of knocking Stanley out too.

-Is it bad that I want to touch my diaper, Daddy?

-Because I’m going to.

-Okay, I’m touching it now.

-Uhm. It feels good.

Maybe I should put my phone down for now. This hardly seems like the time or place to get so excited. I should, but I won’t. The phone seems glued to my palm now and I re-read her most recent batch of texts a few more times.

-It’s not even 9 AM yet. You’re going to exhaust yourself before I can even get out of work.

-I’ve been storing up baby energy for the last few months, Daddy. I think I’ll be fine.

She quickly follows this text by sending me a video clip. I’m nervous to play it while at my desk, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get up and shuffle off to the bathroom with the front of my pants expanded like it is. I double check that the volume is low and click on the video to play it.

It’s a short and simple video–just a close up of the bulky padding between her legs as she runs her hand over it, gently squeezing it. Off camera, I can hear her moaning a little. It’s over in just a few seconds. I replay it a few more times. I love the way that I can tell how wet her diaper is just by the way its padding has settled. I love seeing her pretty nails, painted a bright pink, as she grasps the padding. I love that I can recognize my couch under her padded bum–a reminder that she’s actually in my home.

-It would seem that you’re enjoying that.

-Uh huh.

-What are you going to do now?

-Whatever I want.

-Careful, this is how little girls get spankings.

-Maybe I want them.

-Let’s see if you earn them.

-Challenge accepted.

I need to put the phone down or risk overstimulating myself at my desk. In no world would I willingly choose work over glimpses into Bebe’s naughty antics, but… I need to pace myself or else I’m going to cream my pants before lunch.

“Hey, Ben?” It’s Stanley again. Perfect timing, as always.

“Yeah?”

“I’m throwing together a quick meeting so we can go over some of the new product lines. Do you have a few minutes to join us in the conference room?”

I sigh, looking down at my face-down phone. I can hear it vibrate against the surface of my desk. As much as I’d love to decline his request, I’m once again bound by office obligation.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m on my way.”

I take a quick glance at my phone screen, only to see that she’s sent an image. I don’t dare look at it–Stanley’s sudden appearance had managed to deflate my dick, and if I was expected to leave my cubicle, it was probably better that way.

My phone is left behind in a drawer in my desk. Best to fight temptation, I think.

[12 Missed Text Messages]

I sit back down at my desk, and pull the phone out of my drawer. My eyes immediately grow large at the sight of how many texts from Bebe I’ve missed. A quick scan through them reveals that there doesn’t seem to be anger or animosity on her part for my being away. And now I’m excited to dig into this treasure trove.

The first text she sent was a photo of her hand down the front of her diaper. There’s my erection again.

-I get so worked up touching the outside of my diaper that I have to touch the inside of my diaper.

-Daddy, when you changed my diaper this morning, did you notice that I had shaved all my hairs off? I did it just before I left home so that I’d be nice and clean for you.

-I love touching my bare skin inside my diaper.

-Like…a lot.

The next text is another short video. Another close up shot of her diaper as I watch her hand squirm inside of it. She’s moaning softly.

-I’d love to c*m, but…I know I’m supposed to ask permission.

-But. You seem to be away from your phone right now.

-But. Daddy, I really wish you were here right now. Because I want to c*m. Please come back?

-Maybe I’ll just be naughty and c*m without your permission. What do you think of that, huh?

She sends another video clip next. It’s another glimpse of her hand inside of her diaper. Her rapid moaning almost sounds like a puppy panting.

-Fuck. I can’t do it. I need you to tell me I can, Daddy. Please? Please come back and tell me I can c*m.

I practically moan myself while reading her last text. I slide my chair a little further under my desk as I feel myself continuing to grow stiff in my pants.

-Thank you for your patience, Baby. Daddy had to go to a meeting.

-I know. But…I need you.

-You just need me to tell you that you can keep touching yourself.

- :O

-Well that certainly explains what your last few texts suggest.

-Well? Can I, Daddy? Please? Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?

-That wouldn’t be all that different from when we’re hours apart, would it? I think you should wait for Daddy to get home later. Then, I promise, I’ll take good care of you.

-Fiiiiiine.

I can just picture her right now, stomping her little feet in frustration. For the briefest of moments, I consider changing my mind and letting her touch herself to completion; but just as quickly, the idea is nixed. She’ll have to wait just as long as I have to.

-Can we at least talk about what we’ll do when you come home?

-Of course. What did you have in mind?

-I’m going to need a diaper change the second you walk through the door, Daddy.

-Well, you’re already wet, right?

-Uh huh. And I’m gonna be even wetter by the time you get here. I might even be leaky.

-You better not leak on my furniture.

-Or what?

-You already know the answer to that.

-Besides, what if changing your diaper isn’t the first thing I want to do when I get home?

-Daddy! My diaper already needs a change! Just think of how bad it will be when you get home.

-That sounds like your problem more than mine, sweetie.

-But.

-What if…

-What if, what?

-No, Daddy. Don’t make me say it.

-How could I make you say something if I don’t even know what it is you don’t want to say?

-Daddy…

-What if I did more than just wet my diaper by then?

-What else could you do?

-Dadddddy…

-I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ll have to tell me.

I wait for a response that’s as quick as the others, but there’s nothing. I laugh to myself, feeling my lips curl into a devilish grin. There’s no doubt that she’s completely flustered right now. She’s probably still planted on my couch, squirming about while simultaneously embarrassed and horny. Of course I know what she’s trying to say. And she knows that I know too.

An hour passes, and then another. It’s good for my productivity in processing emails, but I’m a little curious about where Bebe might have crawled off to.

-Everything okay, Baby? Haven’t heard a peep from you in a bit.

Still no response. I’m disappointed, but not upset–I can’t be mad about her phone not being in her hand 24/7 when I shouldn’t even be on my phone at all while at work. I settle back into work-mode once more, taking some emails, going to a brief meeting, and then heading off to lunch.

[14 Missed Text Messages]

-I guess I was still sleepy, because I passed out on your couch with my hand in my diaper…

-But I promise I didn’t c*m yet, Daddy. I only want to when you say that I can.

-But I hope you give me permission soon… I get so turned on when I’m in my wet diaper, Daddy. I can’t help it.

-Fuck.

-See? It’s happening already. I just woke up and I’m feeling my squishy diaper and I’m all worked up again and… I really need to be allowed to c*m, Daddy.

-Oh. And about what we were talking about before. I just meant that if I have to wait for you to change me, what happens if I…

-Damn. :(

-It’s so hard to say it, let alone type it out.

-Fine, fine. I’ll say it. Promise me you won’t laugh when you read it, Daddy.

-What happens if I have to poop, Daddy? Do you really want me to mess my diaper? Because then I’d be stuck wearing my dirty diaper until you come home to change me.

-Okay, so…

-I guess I’m asking about that because…I kind of have to go potty, Daddy.

-And by ‘kind of’ I mean ‘very very badly.’

-I won’t do anything without your say-so, Daddy. But…I really hope you can get back to me soon. May I please use the potty, Daddy? Or do you really expect me to mess my diaper and stay in it all afternoon?

I am absolutely delighted to read this batch of text messages. Within seconds, I’m sliding my chair a little further under my desk to conceal my crotch, and I’m already re-reading her increasingly desperate transmissions.

It feels good to have this sort of control. Even better that she had just willingly handed it to me from the very beginning. I sometimes wish there had been a little more conflict there–like I needed to pull her over my lap for a paddling a few times before she was more willing to comply. But a devoted baby girl who was willing to do whatever naughty things came to either of our minds? I was always completely content with that.

-You’re a good girl for waiting for Daddy’s permission.

Her response came so fast, I swore for a second that I somehow got it before I had actually sent my own text.

-Thank you, Daddy.

-May I? Please?

-May you…use the potty?

-Yes, Daddy.

-I’m surprised that you’d even ask me that, Baby. You have to know what I’m going to say, right?

-I know, but… I really have to…poo…

-Babies wear diapers for a reason.

-And I see no reason to make an exception for this.

-We did agree that you were going to be in diapers all week, right? And that you wouldn’t be using the potty at all.

-I know, Daddy. But that was before I knew you’d be in the office all day. That doesn’t seem fair to me.

-I’m sorry that it doesn’t feel fair, Baby. But rules are rules, and we agreed that you’d only be using your diapers.

-But I REALLY have to go…

-Is it really that hard to decide what to do? You only have two choices. Hold it, or go.

“Hey, Ben.”

It’s Stanley again, seeming to leap out of the shadows to suddenly be lurking at my cubicle.

“What’s up?” I ask, setting my phone down on the desk. I turn my head to look at him without having to pull my lap out from under the desk.

“So, I’ve got some bad news,” he says, scratching at his neck nervously. I can already tell that he doesn’t want to have to have this conversation with me–whatever it is. Probably, if I was to guess, because he wasn’t going to like my reaction to it.

On my desk, I see my screen lighting up. As eager as I am to see what sort of bullshit Stanley wants to talk about now, I’m still more interested in Bebe’s text.

-Well I definitely can’t hold it, Daddy. So…I guess I’m gonna go and poop in my diaper. I hope you’re happy.

I am.

“So Sarah called me,” Stanley says. I’m barely paying attention. “I guess she’s not going to be in for, uh, a bit. She’s pretty sick.”

“Uh huh,” I say. “And Norman?”

“He’s…not really all that reliable,” Stanley says, again nervously scratching at himself.

My screen lights up again.

-It’s happening. Oh my god, Daddy! I’m doing it. Right now.

I’m a little frustrated at Stanley. For obvious work-related reasons, obviously. But too, because he prevented me from having the opportunity to respond to Bebe’s text to tell her to film it. Goddamn, how I would’ve loved to have a video of the back of her diaper expanding outwards as she grunted and pushed.

“So what are you asking me?” I say to Stanley, my patience about depleted.

-Ugh. So much, Daddy. It’s even more than I thought it was going to be, Daddy.

“I’m saying that maybe it’d be for the best if you reschedule your time off. If you could work this week instead of taking off, I promise that I can get you some extra days off on top of the ones you’ll be owed. Now, it won’t be until Sarah is back in the office. And maybe we’ll need to replace Norman first, but…”

-Daddy, I don’t know what to do. My diaper is so full and saggy. And…stinky. And I’m afraid to sit down. I’m just supposed to crawl around and wait for you?

“There’s absolutely no way that I can do that,” I say to Stanley.

“C’mon, Ben. I know you have plans, but you have to think about the company and…”

“You do remember when I told you that my mother was visiting, right?” I ask. “And I said she wasn’t in the best of health.”

“And if you need to leave early a day or two this week to check in on her, I totally understand that. But…”

My own deceit isn’t sitting well with me. I shouldn’t have to lie to make my point.

“Actually, Stanley, my mother isn’t in town. It’s my girlfriend.”

-Don’t be mad, Daddy. But…I just sat down.

Stanley puffs up his chest and puts his hands on his hips in an effort to look intimidating and boss-like. It’s far from convincing.

“Alright, Ben. I think I’m going to have to put my foot down on this one. We’re postponing your time off for now. I need you here in the office. And, uh, I think you’re going to have to put your phone away now.”

-Is it bad that it feels good, Daddy?

“No,” I say.

“No?” He seems to have no idea how to process this answer. Of all the possibilities he might have predicted, he doesn’t anticipate me simply refusing.

-Is it bad that I’m touching my dirty diaper again, Daddy? Because I don’t think I can stop.

“One way or another, I’m going to get up and walk out the door,” I say, scooping up my phone from my desk. “I was promised these days off, and I intend on taking them.”

“If you walk out that door,” he says, “you won’t be coming back.”

“That seems fair to me,” I say. “Preferable, even.”

He throws his hands into the air. “So what does this mean? You’re leaving? Like…now? At the end of the day? Or…”

The phone vibrates in my hand again and I take another glance at the screen.

-Daddy, my diaper is so messy. I need you so badly.

“Right now,” I say.

It’s a little awkward to get out from behind my desk in front of Stanley with my completely hardened cock tenting out the front of my pants, but he seems distracted by my efforts to pack up the few personal items I have at my desk.

And that’s it. I’m suddenly walking to my car with a bunch of things in my shoulder bag. I should probably care about not having a job, but it seems like a problem for later. I’ve got some savings. I’ve got qualifications and an up-to-date resume. I think I’ll be fine.

-Baby, do you remember what I said before? About not changing you right away when I get home?

-I do. But…Daddy, I need a change so badly.

-I want you to go to the bedroom and lay down on top of my bed in just your filthy diaper. And you’re going to wait for me.

-But

-Aren’t you at work? How long am I supposed to just lie there in my diaper?

-I just left the office. So not long.

-You got out early? For me?

-That’s right! For you.

-Please hurry, Daddy. Come change me.

-Changing you won’t be the first thing I do.

-What’s the first thing you’re going to do?

-I’m going to fuck your disgusting little bottom, that’s what. And then we’ll see if I feel like changing you.

Her first response is a series of emojis. Happy faces, excited faces, eggplants, peaches, and even a random poo emoji. Then:

-Thank you, Daddy. I’m all yours.

-I know.