Doing Business, Part 26 (Patreon)

Twenty-Six

My mother–my biological mother–was an oversharer. She’d tell anyone anything. A favorite topic of hers was embarrassing stories from my childhood. No party, gathering, or Sunday dinner was complete without a quick dip into the annals of ‘silly things that little Clark did.’

Was this the actual origin of my recently-realized penchant for humiliation?

A favorite story of hers was an incident at the wedding reception for my Aunt Becky and Uncle Tony. I don’t know, exactly, how old I was at the time–retellings of the story usually had me between a year and two years old. But I was in diapers at the time, that’s the important part.

Supposedly, I had become incredibly bored with the wedding celebrations and was getting fussy. Understandable–I think I’d still be rather fussy if dragged to a wedding now. For a while, my mother did her best to soothe me, but I was getting in the way of her being able to enjoy her sister’s wedding–an event she had been pretty excited about. And so, I was passed off to my cousin Heather.

Twelve years old at the time, Heather loved the idea of babies. Until she actually held one and decided the responsibility wasn’t for her. Then I was passed off to Aunt Louise. Who, supposedly, didn’t even care for her own babies. I was then passed off to Grandma, who at this point was a little too deep into the wedding-day libations. She opted to just let me roam free, and set me down on the ground to scamper about as I wished.

And so I did, wriggling my way out of my tiny baby tuxedo pants as I crawled around. In a few short minutes, I had not only made my way onto the dance floor, but I had deposited a sizable wedding gift of my own into the back of the diaper–seemingly oblivious to the party that was taking place around me. This would prompt the wedding DJ to stop the music for a second and announce: “Would someone please come collect, and change, your baby? He’s stinking up the place.”

Now, my Aunt Louise would later question the final detail of that story, claiming that no such announcement was made. But my mother stuck by it, and continued to include it in all future tellings.

But the actual takeaway from this story–besides the fact that I was apparently born to make a fool of myself while in diapers–was one that I wouldn’t realize until much more recently: What makes a baby a baby is more than just a diaper. It’s also a lack of consideration for consequence.

A baby doesn’t care where he is when he uses his diaper. He just does it, and it’ll be someone else’s problem. Case in point: my current diaper, stinking up my boss’s car as we enter the airport.

If my mother could accept the fact that her now-adult son was still wearing diapers, maybe she’d find this predicament as amusing as her beloved wedding story.

“It seems like you had to go more than you thought you did,” she said, smirking.

“It smells like a bigger mess than it is,” I said, bashfully looking down at my lap. “I think.”

“I have to leave the car in Extended Parking,” she said. “And it’s not a short walk to the airport from there.”

“Oh…” The thought of an extended walk while my diaper was in this state was less than favorable.

“There is a transport though,” she said, pointing to a tram that seemed to connect the parking lot to the airport.

“B-but…we’d be around other people. And they’d smell me for sure.”

“True,” she said. “I suppose the only alternative is…to be changed in the car?”

“The car? But…”

“It’s not perfect,” she said. “But these are your options: a long walk; a ride on the tram; or you get changed in the car now.”

I didn’t really care for any of those options. Again, I’m reminded of the one or two year-old Clark, filling his diaper on the dance floor with no consideration for what the aftermath would be–for either him or whoever had to take care of him.

I probably shouldn’t have done everything in my diaper a few minutes earlier. I could’ve held it until after the flight, I thought.

Or, perhaps, in an alternate universe, I didn’t poop my pants in Mommy’s car. Instead, mid-flight while I’m stuck in my seat, the pressure in my bowels become so strong that I have no choice but to mess myself right there. And every other passenger on the plane is forced to breathe in the toxic fallout of my diaper. At some point, Mommy is given no choice but to drag me back to drag me out into the aisle and…

No, you’ve got to stop that right now. My cock aches.

“M-maybe you can just change me here?”

“If you think that’s for the best, Baby.”

“Probably.”

“Excellent,” she said, seeming to be excited about this prospect. “It’s been a while since I’ve changed a baby in the back of a car.”

“Hillary?” I asked.

She nodded.

I still wanted to know more about Hillary. Really, I wanted to know more about her dynamic with Mommy. What was that like? How different was it from what I had now? And, of course, how did it end?

All questions that felt like they’d be better asked at another time.

“It’ll be quick,” she said. “We might get a gawker or two walking by. But I suppose that’s better than everyone on the tram knowing that you’re a little poopy-bottom, yes?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

She chose one of the parking spots under an awning. I was mildly curious about the cost of a covered parking spot as opposed to an uncovered one, but details like that seemed far too adult for me. That was Mommy’s problem. She’d take care of all that.

But the spot under the awning seemed to afford a little more privacy than some of the others. And, considering that all of the spots around ours were already occupied–the owners of those cars, no doubt, scattered around the world at the moment–I suddenly felt much better about the prospect of getting my diaper changed now, as opposed to in the airport. Or…the airplane itself.

“As much as I’d like to take my time with this,” she said, putting her SUV into park, “we’ll have to be quick. There’ll be plenty of time to relish diaper changes once we’re in Seattle.”

I nodded, preferring a quick procedure myself if it had to be done in a car.

“There’s no elegant way to do this,” she said, sliding out from the driver’s seat. “I’ll put the rear seats down and open the back door. That should be more than enough space for you to lie down.”

Fresh air rushed into the car as our doors opened. I blushed again, realizing how quickly I had acclimated to just breathing in the air that was polluted by my diaper.

“Hurry up,” she said from the rear of her car. “Are you coming over here to get your diaper changed or not?”

Perfect timing, as always, as a pair of middle-aged women strolled past us at about that moment. They both looked in our direction, looking mildly confused. I had no clue if they actually heard Ms. Heller’s question or not, but with my luck being what it was, I’d have guessed so.

“C-coming.”

I scurried back to meet her–every second that I wasn’t at her immediate side felt like a second she could use to further embarrass me–finding that she had already laid out a blanket on the floor of her SUV. I wondered how long that blanket had been back there, and if it had always been used as the changing blanket.

Her diaper changing skills remained, so far as I knew, unrivaled. It didn’t matter where we were, she knew her way around a dirty bottom.

“Aww, you might’ve been right,” she cooed. “It’s not the biggest mess you’ve ever made. Just a potent one. You were right to push that into your diaper now, though. You’d end up getting our plane diverted, if that happened in mid-air. They’d arrest you for unleashing a dangerous weapon.”

She held my caged cock in her hand, gently lifting it and shifting it from side to side as she wiped around it. She treated it so nonchalantly–like it wasn’t anything of importance. It was just an obstacle in her way–no different from pushing a tree branch to the side.

Ugh. I needed to be unlocked so badly.

A rogue finger of hers came close to my asshole in the midst of her wiping me clean. I had to assume this was a purposeful tease. A little, anticipatory, moan escaped my mouth.

“Oh, poor baby,” she said. “You sound absolutely desperate.”

I nodded.

“Not to worry. I’ll be revisiting this little hole of yours later.”

My cock strained in its cage. “Y-yes, Mommy.”

I had no idea what sorts of sinful things she had planned for the next few days, but I knew she had ideas. She had not one, but two large suitcases. Far more than even the heaviest packer would need for just 4 days away. I could only imagine the armory she was bringing along.

She quickly slid a new diaper beneath me, coating me with a liberal amount of baby powder–far more than she had ever used while we were in the office, when she used it at all. The thick infantile scent wafted to my nose immediately, bringing out even more red in my cheeks.

“We’re away from all the familiar faces and noses,” she said. “So I’m going to be a little less concerned about things like how much you smell like a baby.”

I was close to protesting, but I thought better of it. She was right–it wouldn’t matter if an entire airport of strangers thought a grown man smelled like a baby. I’d never see any of them again.

That was…pretty exciting.

Diaper was fastened. Pants were pulled back up. The offensively dirty diaper was triple bagged before being thrust back into my hands. I might have been spared having to wear a soiled diaper on the tram, but was it any different if I had to carry said diaper in my hands?

Thankfully, I spotted a trash can at the tram platform. I gleefully tossed my naughty garbage into it, briefly pondering how long it’d sit there until someone disposed of the entire trash bag. Long enough to stink up that area too? I was already worried that we’d return from Seattle to find that Ms. Heller’s car still smelled like my dreadful diaper–the poisoned air trapped in place for days with no opportunity to escape.

A future-me problem.

There were just a few other people on the tram as we were taken into the airport, all of them looking like they were already over the airport experience. It was an interesting test run for the very baby-ish scent I was carrying around with me now.

It was hard to say how noticeable it was. I was getting a few glances, though it was hard to say if they were any different than the glances they’d give any other random person. The two middle-aged women who passed by Ms. Heller’s SUV were there too, though. Their eyes seemed to linger a little longer than everyone else’s. It’d be impossible to know for sure, but it was easy to imagine them connecting a few dots if they had overheard Ms. Heller’s earlier comment about a diaper change, and now catching the scent of baby powder.

Never one to miss an opportunity for creating chaos, Ms. Heller flashed me a sly grin. “So, what do you think? Will that diaper last you the whole trip?”

I imagined myself melting into the floor and disappearing completely. I was extremely disappointed that I didn’t. Now people were looking at us.

As much I wanted to stay silent, I knew better than to leave one of Mommy’s questions unanswered. “Y-yes…it’ll hold.”

“Once we land in Seattle, I’ll check for myself. I wouldn’t want you to get a diaper rash so early in our trip.”

That got some reactions. The two middle-aged women were whispering things to each other. One of them was staring directly at my mid-section.

What else could I do but grin and bear it?

But perhaps this was also the perfect introduction to our trip. Without having any clue what was coming, this was the kind of low-ish stakes humiliation that could help prepare me for whatever was next. I’d need only remember that I didn’t know them, and they didn’t know me. After this moment, I’d just be a fuzzy memory for them. A story they told later, maybe.

Maybe I could at least try to embrace that.

“Y-yes, Mommy,” I said, loud enough that anyone paying attention could hear.

That look on her face? That look of pride? That was all I ever wanted.

As exhilarating as the tram ride had been, I was praying for the action to slow down a little. If every moment between now and Seattle were filled with this sort of humiliation, I was likely going to explode–if not my body, at least my cock.

“We have a little time before the flight,” she said as we walked together through the terminal. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Well…I guess it’s been a while since breakfast. And we’re not going to be in Seattle for a while, right? So maybe I could go for…”

“Wait just a second,” she said, rifling through her shoulder bag.

The fool that I am, I thought she was looking for her wallet, like she was going to buy us lunch. Instead, she pulled out a baby bottle.

“Wh-what…”

“Here,” she said, handing it to me. “You may drink this.”

“But…I… M-mommy…”

“Look around,” she said. “Do you recognize anyone here?”

I didn’t have to look. “No.”

“So what do you care if they see a young man enjoying his ba-ba?”

“Well…what’s in it?”

“Baby formula.”

I could only imagine that I looked as disgusted as I felt. She took one look at me and laughed while shaking her head.

“I’m kidding, silly. It’s a protein shake. Vanilla-flavored, or so the canister claims. It travels better than milk does. Plus, it has all the nutrients a growing baby like yourself could ever need.”

As unpleasant as that sounded, it still didn’t sound as bad as it could’ve been.

“Do I have to drink this?”

“What a funny question. Every drop,” she said. “And you’ll have to do it soon. I don’t think they’ll let us take that past security.”

I carefully lifted the bottle’s nipple to my lips, cautiously scanning the crowd around me as we walked forward. As best as I could tell, nobody was looking at me. I took a small sip, suckling at the latex tip. I was immediately greeted with a surprisingly thick spurt of vanilla liquid. I could’ve done without the aftertaste, but the flavor wasn’t the worst.

“Good baby,” she cooed to me. “Go on now. Drink it all up.”

The more I sipped from the bottle, the easier it became. We were walking by all sorts of people, and nobody seemed to pay any mind to the young man walking around drinking from a baby bottle. Maybe, to everyone else, it just looked like I was drinking from a water bottle.

“Mommy,” a toddler yelled to my left. “That man has the same bottle I do!”

I felt my face ignite, and I turned and buried my face in Ms. Heller’s side. She laughed, putting a comforting hand around me, patting my shoulder. As embarrassing as having been called out by a child was, my reaction was almost more embarrassing. Had I really just clung to Mommy like that, desperate for her comfort?

“Poor baby. It makes sense, of course. Babies can just recognize other babies, you know?”

I wasn’t done with my bottle, and I intended to finish it. Embarrassment or not. Ms. Heller, too, seemed quite pleased that I was going back to the nipple after my little scare, giving me a supportive pat on my crinkly bottom.

Shortly after her checked luggage was carted away, we’d enter the line for our security scans. It hadn’t occurred to me until this moment that I was at risk of being frisked in my diaper.

“D-do you think they’ll know?” I asked Ms. Heller. “About my, uhm, diaper?”

“If they’re doing their job, they will,” she said with a confident nod. “But it’s not illegal to wear a diaper, little boy. It’s nothing you should worry about.”

This did little to calm my nerves.

“Besides, if either of us should be nervous, it’s me. The things in my checked baggage? Hell, the things in my carry-on? I’ll probably get a few raised eyebrows.”

I desperately wanted to ask about what was in her bags, but I kept my mouth shut. It was probably better that I didn’t know.

At the security line, Ms. Heller was in front of me, and I watched the faces of the TSA agents as her carry-on bag went through the conveyor belt. It was surprisingly hard to read the agents–either they had already seen everything there was to have seen, or they were trained to just not give away all that much information.

“Step into the body scanner, sir.”

Deep breath. Well, they’re going to see what they see.

“Alright,” the woman at the machine said after I had stepped inside. A whirl of air and electronic noises surrounded me, dissipating as quickly as they had arrived. “Step over here, sir.”

I stepped out of the machine and to the left where an agent quickly felt around my body. Areas of interest, I suspected.

“What is this?” the agent asked, lightly tapping the front of my pants with the back of their hand.

“Uhm…a diaper.” My face blushed furiously at having needed to say that aloud.

“Alright, head on through.”

Was that it? It seemed to be.

I found Ms. Heller soon after, not even realizing that we had been separated in the process of being escorted through the checkpoint.

“As painless as you hoped it would be?” she asked.

“Relatively.”

“Barring any diaper-blowouts while we’re thousands of feet above the ground,” she said, “I’d say the hard part is behind us.”

I looked out the window, to where a large plane had just left the runway and was ascending up and into the clouds. My heart beat rapidly as I tried to, once more, imagine the worst case scenarios.

“We’ll be boarding soon,” Ms. Heller was saying. I spun around to see that she was talking on the phone. “He was a good boy and filled his diaper on the car ride here, so I think he should be good for the flight.”

I wondered who she was talking to. Ms. Beaufort? Lyndie? Someone else entirely?

There was something very familiar about Ms. Heller’s oversharing on the phone.

It must’ve been a mom thing.