Doing Business, Part 23 (Patreon)

Twenty-Three

Evan and Lyndie were like two old ladies at a book club. They had an immediate comradery that continued to surprise me. Evan and I certainly had our moments of good conversation, but I never saw him come to life quite like he did when Lyndie was around.

Part of me didn’t want to believe that they weren’t in constant contact with each other. Yet, their chemistry seemed natural enough to suggest that it wouldn’t have mattered.

“Busy day at the office?” he asked her when we got to the apartment.

“Oh you know how it is. All that paperwork.”

“And by paperwork you mean…”

“Diapers,” she said with a gleeful look on her face. “Obviously.”

“Hello, Evan,” I said. Answering a question he hadn’t yet asked: “My day was good too, thank you for asking.”

“Why’s the baby so cranky?” he asked Lyndie.

She held a hand up to the side of her mouth while mockingly pointing in my direction. In a hushed tone that was still intended for me to hear: “I think he needs a change.”

Evan laughed, shaking his head. “Already?”

“On the way here, actually,” Lyndie said, clearly willing to overshare on my behalf. “Somewhere between the train station and your apartment he made a big ol’ puddle in his pants.”

“I suppose I’d be cranky if I was walking around in soggy pants too,” he said. “Do you need to take care of that?”

He wasn’t asking me–he was asking Lyndie.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m perfectly capable of changing my own diaper.”

“I know you’re not a parent,” Lyndie began, speaking to Evan. “But just using common sense, which do you think is the best choice: A baby changing his own diaper? Or a professional caregiver changing said diaper?”

“Professional?” I spat. “You’ve had your glorified babysitter position for one whole day!”

“Tut tut,” she said to me. “Quiet now. The adults are talking.”

Evan smiled, clearly enjoying this. “I mean, when you put it like that, it’s hard to argue in favor of letting a baby change his own diaper. Frankly, it sounds like a bit of a mess.”

“See?” Lyndie said, turning back to me with a smug smile.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. It was all in jest, but she had made it abundantly clear that she intended to change my diaper for me. What else was there to do but accept my fate?

“Fine,” I said. “If you absolutely need to change my diaper.”

“No no,” Evan said. “It shouldn’t be like that.”

I rolled my eyes again. “And what should it be like?”

“You should use a baby-voice,” he said.

“Oh my lord,” Lyndie exclaimed. “Yes! Please, Clark, you have to ask me to change your diaper in a baby-voice.”

“Wh-what? I…I don’t know how to talk like a baby.”

“Oh please,” Lyndie said. “You can figure it out.”

“Come on,” I pleaded. “You’re not really expecting me to talk like a baby, are you? Just to ask for something that I can do myself?”

“We’re just having fun, Clarky.”

“You’re having fun,” I said, pointing a finger in the direction of each of them.

“I’m slightly tempted to have some sympathy for you,” Lyndie said with a shrug. “Getting teased and humiliated so frequently–both at work and home–can’t be easy.”

“It’s not,” I said, my spirits slightly lifted by her acknowledgment of those challenges.

“But. I don’t actually have any sympathy. Because, well, it’s pretty obvious that you love it. And so I think I’d be a much better friend if, instead of trying to comfort you, I just gave you more of what you wanted. Humiliation.”

I opened my mouth to offer a rebuttal, but I had absolutely no idea where to start. She was right, and she knew it.

“Now then,” she continued. “With that out of the way, I think you need to ask me for a diaper change, but with babytalk.”

I couldn’t remember ever having talked like a baby before–even to just goof around and be silly. I didn’t doubt that it was easy to do, but it was the kind of thing that I wished I had thought to practice when I was alone first.

“Uhm… Can I…pwease…have…diaper change?”

Evan burst out laughing, shaking his head. “It sounds like you’re reading a meme from six years ago.”

“Yeah,” Lyndie added. “Try again, Clarky.”

I could either continue making half-assed attempts at finding the right pathetic cadence in the hopes of stumbling into what she wanted to hear, or I could sacrifice a little more of my dignity and really ham it up. The latter had a better chance of getting this whole diaper change debacle over and done with before Ava arrived, which seemed like reason enough for me.

I took a deep breath, feeling my face reddening already. It wasn’t just the words, it was the tone that I’d have to get right. “Lyndie… My diapey is wet. Can you pwease change me?”

Her eyes seemed to light up, much happier with how that went. “And why can’t you do it yourself?”

“B-because…uhm…I’m a wittle baby…”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” she said. “Come on, we’ll go to your room and get you out of your soggy britches.”

The diaper change itself was unremarkable. It was quick and efficient. Mostly wordless. No special treatment of my cock, nor even too many quips about the state of the diaper I was being changed out of. It felt normal. Routine. And just the idea of this process being made normal had completely shrunk me.

This is just how it is now.

There’s a brief back-and-forth about my return to the living room. She’d have liked it if I walked out of my bedroom without pants on. Maybe I would’ve rolled with it if it was just the three of us–but with Ava on her way, I’d rather pants. To my surprise, she relents. I wondered if she was willing to give me a reprieve, or if she just figured she’d find another way to humiliate me later.

“Aw,” Evan said as we emerged from the bedroom. “Pants?”

“I know, I know,” Lyndie said.

“But what about Pizza-Girl?” Evan whined. “We’d want her to see his diaper again, you know?”

“I forgot about that,” Lyndie said. “But…we could make a game of that too.”

“A game?” I asked.

“We’re expecting both Ava and the pizza delivery, right? Your doorbell will ring twice. So how about you pick one. Either you answer the first doorbell in just a diaper. Or the second.”

It seemed fair for a moment; until I realized that I was still just humiliating myself for Lyndie’s amusement. But–and I wouldn’t have said it out loud–if she had insisted on me taking my pants off and answering the door in a diaper both times, I would’ve. Her proposal was only half as bad.

I paused, attempting to do some quick calculations. How long did it take for a pizza to get made and then delivered? Did it matter that everyone in town was likely ordering a pizza at about this time? And how long did it take Ava to get here? Where was she coming from?

Who was I kidding? There was no better option. I’d either be exposing my diaper to a stranger–Pizza-Girl or yet another stranger–or I’d be making a fool of myself in front of Ava.

“Maybe it’s best to get it over with,” I said. “First doorbell.”

“Good call,” Evan said, nodding his head. “It’s what I would’ve picked too.”

Lyndie shot him an amused look.

“D-don’t you get any ideas,” he said to her. “I’m not putting on a diaper.”

Lyndie just shrugged playfully, possibly stowing the idea away for another day.

“But that does mean that I have to insist, again, that you take off your pants,” she said to me. “You want to be ready when that doorbell rings.”

So much for small victories. I’m all out of fight, and I’m ready to do whatever I have to do to appease Lyndie and Evan. Willful compliance doesn’t earn me back very much dignity, but it at least stops the bleeding. I let my pants fall to the ground–hearing that oh-so-familiar fwomp when they reach their destination.

“Happy?” I ask. “You got what you want. I’m not wearing pants and I’m probably minutes away from answering the door in a diaper.”

“Yes,” Lyndie said, nodding. “Quite happy. Evan? You happy?”

“Quite,” he answered.

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” she said, stretching out and yawning as if she’d had an especially long day. “Is there any beer in your fridge?”

“Pretty sure we’ve got some,” Evan said. “Clark?”

“Are you putting it in a baby bottle?” I asked, rolling my eyes in advance of Lyndie finding that to be a good idea.

“I wasn’t planning on it…”

I sighed in relief while also learning a little lesson: Don’t speculate out loud about what embarrassing thing might be coming next, lest I find myself summoning that humiliation myself.

“I texted Ava to see how far away she is,” Lyndie said, staring down at her phone. “She hasn’t gotten back to me though.”

“And you said that Ava is another little baby?” Evan asked, seeming to reference a conversation I wasn’t privy to.

“That she is,” Lyndie said with a smile. “She’s a real sweetheart. She almost seems too good for this weird corporate-baby lifestyle.”

“But I’m not too good?” I asked.

“Oh, no. You’re perfectly suited for it.”

Ding-dong.

The three of us all looked to each other. Lyndie and Evan looked excited. I could only assume that I looked as anxious as I felt.

“Ooh,” Lyndie said. “Who could it be?”

“I guess I ought to find out, huh?” I muttered, well aware of the Eeyore-ness of my tone.

I slowly dragged myself towards the door, my bulky diaper swishing and crinkling between my legs. A second ding-dong prompted me to pick up the pace a little.

Yet as I neared the door, I thought I could hear something that I wasn’t expecting. Voices. More than one.

“W-wait,” I said, looking back to Lyndie. “I don’t think that this is–”

“Just open the door,” Lyndie said, uninterested in any further dawdling.

It was obvious that I wouldn’t be given the chance to argue for a mulligan. Whatever. I opted to just open the door to see what sort of fresh hell awaited me now.

It was Ava.

And Pizza-Girl.

Ava seemed to be in the middle of saying something: “...and, oh–here he is. Oh. Uhm. C-Clark? I think you forgot…something.”

Pizza-Girl was smirking, running her eyes up and down my body again. I would’ve loved to have had a little peek into her mind at that moment. She said nothing immediately, though her smile seemed to say everything.

“I know,” I said to Ava. “Uhm, why don’t you come in.”

Ava was blushing with second-hand embarrassment as she shuffled past me in the doorway. My hips briefly connected with hers, and there was the unmistakable sound–at least to me–of our diapers crinkling against each other.

I took the pizza from Pizza-Girl, ready for that to be the end of the transaction. But I didn’t want to leave it at that. I felt like I owed her some sort of explanation.

Or, an apology. “Hey, look, I’m sorry that you have to, uhm, see this…”

“Diaper?” she asked, laughing. “I can’t help but think that you want me to see it.”

“Uhm, well…”

“Consider it seen,” she said. “Are you proud of that?”

Proud of what? Proud of having shown her my diaper, twice? Or proud of just wearing one in the first place?

“It…it was a, uh, bet,” I said, not completely sure if the words were coherent or not. I was mumbling a little, trying to address Pizza-Girl without everyone in my apartment hearing me.

“Yeah? It seems like you keep losing that bet. Maybe take a break from bets for a while?”

I felt my face getting hot as I quickly looked over my shoulder to everyone else. They were all waiting. Smiling. Except for Ava, who still seemed kind of confused.

“Right,” Pizza-Girl said, jumping to her own conclusion. “You like losing the bet.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Well, here’s to hoping you lose some more bets when you order pizza from my shop.”

“Are you…the only delivery person?”

She laughed and shrugged. “Maybe. Only one way to find out, right?”

“I…guess.”

“Enjoy your pizza,” she said. “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you.”

“Uhm…thank you.” By the time I finally got some words out of my mouth again, she was already walking down the hall.

I closed the door, and returned to the kitchen with the pizza in hand. I was already bracing myself for the jokes and teasing.

“That couldn’t have worked out any better,” Lyndie said. “A real two-for-one there.”

“Did you make him answer the door in his diaper?” Ava asked.

“Sort of,” she answered. “It was also his choice.”

“You know,” Evan interjected. “Had you chosen to wait until the second door-bell, you wouldn’t have had to show your diaper to anyone.”

“Well, damn,” I said, sighing. I hadn’t even considered that.

“And do you always tease him like this?” Ava asked.

“We haven’t made hanging out like this a regular thing just yet,” Lyndie said. “But we’re working on it. And we’ll probably always be teasing him like this.”

“You aren’t going to make me do things like that, are you?” Ava asked.

“You?” Lyndie asked, her face scrunching up like she saw the cutest little puppy. “Of course not, lovey.”

Lovey? I get forced to expose myself to random strangers and she gets called Lovey? I wouldn’t have said that I was mad, but I was a little jealous.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Evan said, waving from across the room. “I’m Evan, Clarky’s roommate.”

“Oh,” Lyndie added, “we’re trying to make ‘Clarky’ a thing. How do you feel about that?”

“It’s cute,” Ava said as she turned to look me over again. I was still standing there in just a shirt and diaper. “It fits.”

“So you’re part of the baby cult too?” Evan asked.

Ava giggled. “Cult? I never thought of it that way, but it’s probably not too far off. But, yes.”

“And I assume that you…like it?”

She bit her bottom lip as she blushed. The answer seemed obvious enough, even if she seemed a little too shy about just saying it.

“She likes it plenty,” Lyndie said. “I can promise you that.”

Pizza and beer–water for Ava–was passed around and we all found a seat at the kitchen table. It was the first time since Evan and I started living together that we had more than one guest at the apartment at the same time. Not to mention that it was the first time that all four of the chairs at our table were in use.

It felt like something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“Did you have a good day at work?” Lyndie asked Evan.

“All my days are exactly the same,” he responded, shrugging.

“I’m not even sure what you do for work,” she said.

“I’m not sure either,” Evan said flippantly, earning a few chuckles from around the table. “But, yeah, I do online customer support for a retailer. Answer emails and chats, mostly from angry women who think they deserve steeper discounts on cashmere.”

“Sounds miserable,” Lyndie said.

Evan shrugged. “Well, there’s a lot less exposure to diapers at my job, but it is what it is.”

We were making small talk–and big talk–as we ate at the table. Sharing stories about work and life, only occasionally bringing up the baby stuff. It finally dawned on me how this felt familiar, as it was something I had experienced in a long time.

Family. It felt like family.

After dinner, as I collected dishes and beer bottles to clean up–and while Evan had excused himself to use the restroom–I could hear Lyndie asking Ava to spin around so she could check her diaper.

“A little wet. I bet it could hold more.”

The weirdest fucking family.