Doing Business, Part 27 (Patreon)

Twenty-Seven

From: Nancy Tamberlin <ntamberlin@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Friday, April 1 at 3:14 PM

To: Gabrielle Heller <gheller@xxxxxxxxx>

Subject: FWD: Workplace Concerns

Gabby,

Earlier this week, HR received an email from an employee named Thomas Pritchard. Thomas seemed pretty upset about the recent promotions of Clark and Lyndie, feeling that he had been unfairly passed over for advancement. I met with him this week for a one-on-one chat in an effort to quell his anger.

At the time, I thought the conversation had gone well. I thanked him for his service, explained that the recent promotions were based on a litany of factors and were approved by the Board, and I even offered him a one-time bonus as a way to say ‘thank you’ for his hard work.

However, since our meeting, he has gone on to tell any employee who will listen to him that he plans on attending the next meeting of the Board of Directors to ask them, directly, about the recent promotions.

I’m sure there’s a number of ways that we could handle this situation, but I thought I’d present this to you first to see if you had any suggestions.

I don’t want to interrupt your trip for this matter, so we can discuss it further upon your return. Please do enjoy your time in Seattle :)

***

In a relatively short amount of time, Ms. Heller–Mommy–had gotten to know me quite well. She didn’t know my favorite band or my favorite place in town for pizza. She didn’t know about that time I barfed on Susie Chepske’s shoes in the second grade–though I’m sure she’d have loved to hear about it.

But she knew me, as a human. I had my tells, and she was getting better at reading them. She knew when I needed to go potty–often before I did. She could recognize when I was getting hungry. Or bored. Or tired.

Par for the course of a Mommy, really. That was the sort of skill you had to have.

But that street went both ways, and I was slowly learning about her as well. The way her eyes gleamed when she had a particularly devilish thought. The little breath she took to compose herself when she was overstimulated–usually by me.

And there was that miniscule–almost undetectable–grunt when something came up that frustrated her.

I caught that grunt as our plane arrived in Seattle and we sat on the tarmac for a few minutes. She was checking her phone, and whatever it was she read–she didn’t care for it.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. It could’ve been argued that I was being nosy. Mommy was an important woman, and she probably dealt with far more complicated situations than I could even fathom. But, I knew her well enough to believe that I could get away with offering her an ear to complain to.

“Do you know who Thomas Pritchard is?” she asked.

“No. Should I?” My imagination got away from me for a moment, and I wondered if this was yet another executive in the company–some other important fellow with a hard-on for punishing people dressed like infants.

“Some insignificant whelp in our employ,” she said, rolling her eyes as she lowered her phone. “Apparently he’s trying to make a big scene out of your promotion.”

“M-my…promotion?” I felt a heavy weight on my chest, as if this–whatever this was–was my fault.

“This happens from time to time,” she said with a shrug. “Some worker-ant gets it in their head that they’re the only person keeping the lights on in the building, and take offense when the company doesn’t bow down to kiss their ass.”

“Oh.”

“But, and you would know this better than most, the company doesn’t reward people who need their asses kissed. The company rewards people who kiss the company’s ass.”

My cock ached as I thought of Mommy–an avatar for the company as a whole, if there ever was one–sitting on my face.

“So what are you going to do about it?” I asked.

“My gut reaction is to fire the clod and move on. But…maybe I can do better than that.”

“How so?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But that’s a problem for later.” She slipped her phone into her purse. Short breath. She had composed herself.

“So, Seattle, huh?” I looked out the window, though there wasn’t much to see yet beyond large expanses of blacktop and buildings.

“We made it,” she said, putting her hand on my thigh. “The flight wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, Mommy.”

“Just that one little accident?”

I nodded. Somewhere above Wyoming, I had wet my diaper.

“You’ll be okay to sit in that a little longer, yes? You won’t leak?”

“No, Mommy. I think it’ll hold.”

“Good boy.”

I’d be tempted to say the flight was uneventful, aside from pissing myself again. But believing that was only proof of how commonplace humiliation was in my everyday life now. At one point, early on in the flight, the flight attendant in first class asked Mommy and I if there was anything she could get for us. Without missing a beat, Mommy had handed over my empty baby bottle, asking if there was any milk that could be used to fill it.

The flight attendant looked baffled for a moment, scanning the other seats around to see if there was a baby or toddler she wasn’t aware of. But to her credit, she maintained a professional demeanor and gladly took the bottle to fill it.

The bottle then sat in the tray in front of my seat for the remainder of the flight. I sipped at it here and there, when I didn’t think anyone would see me. But I was wrong far more often than I was right about who could see me. The flight attendant alone must’ve seen me drinking from the baby bottle half a dozen times.

“And you two have a wonderful day,” she said to us as we walked past her on our way off the plane.

“Oh, we most certainly will,” Mommy said, giving my bottom a playful smack. The loud hollow rumple of my diaper seemed obvious to me, but I’d never know what the attendant thought.

After we picked up her checked luggage, we made our way towards the exit. I assumed that we’d have to hail a cab or that she’d arrange for an Uber to pick us up. But, no. Standing in front of a sleek black Town Car was a man holding a sign that read ‘HELLER.’

I thought that sort of thing only happened in movies.

“H-he’s for you? Us?”

She laughed, patting me on the head condescendingly. “Baby, don’t forget. I’m very important.”

“Ms. Gabrielle Heller?”

“The one and only.”

“My name is Joel, and I’ll be your chauffeur this evening. And you are joined by…”

“This is my assistant,” she said. “But you are only to refer to him as ‘Baby.’”

“Y-yes, of course.” His face had glowed as pink as mine.

I could already tell that this was the way this trip was going to go. Humiliating moment after humiliating moment. In a place where absolutely nobody knew me or would remember me? She was going to absolutely destroy me. And I was going to let her.

As we sat in the back of the car, en route to wherever was next, I decided to text Lyndie.

“I’m in Seattle now.”

I started typing out a message to Ava too:

“Hey Ava. I just made it to Seattle and was thinking about you.”

But I deleted it before sending it. This probably wasn’t the time to open that can of worms.

“Let’s see,” Ms. Heller said, reaching between my legs to squeeze the plump padding under my pants. “Are you any wetter than you were before? Need a diaper change yet?”

I glanced up to the windshield where I caught Joel’s eyes looking back at us in the rearview. The latest in a series of strangers who probably had an interesting story to tell later. The women from the tram. Maybe the TSA agents. The flight attendant. Joel.

“I…I should be good.”

I hadn’t invested a lot of thought into it, but it was an idea that kept springing up in my mind since we left the office: Not just embracing my humiliation, but leaning into it. Could I even pull such a thing off?

“You sure, Baby?”

Her gentle squeeze of my diaper, feeling the soggy padding press against my cage, had me feeling a little inspired. This seemed as good a place as any to test my ability to become the biggest baby possible.

“M-mommy…”

Her eyes lit up, already impressed that I had taken on the infantile affectation I had only ever used in the privacy of her office.

“Yes, dear?”

“I…uhm…might have to…make poopies in my diaper. Uhm…later.”

This wasn’t true. My earlier eruption in the passenger seat of her SUV had cleaned me out. But I needed to say something, and I needed it to sound as pathetic as possible. Judging by the look on her face, and Joel’s wide eyes in the rearview, I was successful.

“Of course you do, Baby. But we don’t have to worry about that now, do we? You just let Mommy worry about when your stinky bottom needs to be changed.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Besides,” she continued, “you wouldn’t want to stink up Mr. Joel’s car now, would you?”

There were his eyes in the mirror again.

“Uhm…no…”

Joel said nothing, a testament to his professionalism.

“Trust me,” Ms. Heller said to Joel. “He makes the smelliest diapers of any baby I’ve ever met.”

“Well, uh… I guess I’m grateful that I don’t have to deal with that,” he finally said.

There was only so far I could take my diaper talk, unless I wanted to just start babbling like a baby. I didn’t think I was ready for that just yet.

She moaned to herself a little as she squeezed my wet diaper again. “I’ll never get sick of feeling your soggy diaper, Baby.”

“I…like it too.”

“But you wish you could like it more, yes?”

“Uhm, well, yes.”

“But that pesky little cage around your little cock stops you from getting hard, doesn’t it?” Her voice had become cloying, possibly even sarcastic.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Do you wish you were free from it? So that you could get hard and squirt to your little heart’s content in your diaper?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

Fuck. I wanted that so bad. Obviously, it didn’t make much to push my buttons while in this state. But she wasn’t pressing the buttons–she was mashing them with an open palm.

“You’d do just about anything for release, yes?”

“Yes, Mommy. Anything.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she said.”

“Please.” I was nearing a point of no return–the point at which I was so desperate and needy that I lost control of myself. I had been pushed close to the point before, but I had never actually been pushed past that point.

“You want to jizz in your dirty diaper for Mommy?”

“Yes…”

“You want to suck on Mommy’s titty while she rubs your diaper?”

“Uhm, yes…”

“Do you want Mommy to stick big thick things up into your bottom?”

“F-fuck… Yes, Mommy.”

“Hmm,” she hummed to herself, nonchalantly. “Good to know.”

Her hand slid off of my crotch and her attention was back on her phone again. I felt as if I had just been pushed into a deep pit with no way out. I was practically trembling in the backseat of the Town Car, desperate for her to even touch me–let alone unlocking me. But she was ignoring me. And Joel, consummate professional, kept his eyes on the road and didn’t get involved.

Lyndie, with the perfect timing, returned my text.

Lyndie: “Having fun so far? I doubt she’ll waste any time before embarrassing the hell out of you.”

I gave her the truth:

Me: “It’s been non-stop. Even as we speak.”

Lyndie: “Sounds about right. I don’t want to interrupt anything.”

Me: “Actually, could you do me a favor?”

Lyndie: “Perhaps”

Me: “Do you have any idea who Thomas Pritchard is?”

Lyndie: “Should I?”

Me: “All I know is that he’s an employee. I guess he’s causing some trouble because of our promotions. I was thinking that maybe if we found out who he was, we could just talk to him before things get out of hand.”

Lyndie: “I’ll ask around and see what I can find out. But don’t worry about things like that right now. Worry about keeping your diaper full for Mommy.”

Me: “I’m already pretty wet…”

Lyndie: “Of course you are.”

I looked out my window as the city whizzed past us. I’d never been in Seattle before, and this part of it didn’t look all that different from any other city I had ever been in. Big buildings. People. Cars. I had no idea where we were going–now and for the rest of the trip. Everytime the car stopped at a light, I wondered if I’d see one of these buildings again. Would we go into that bar later, where she’d loudly ask if I had pooped my pants? Would we take a walk through that park later while my diaper sagged between my legs to the point where I had to hold it up with my hands?

“What are you thinking about, Baby?” she asked, putting her hand back in my lap again.

“Just…trying to guess what’s next, I guess.”

“I could tell you,” she said. “If you wanted.”

I saw a cluster of young women out the window, about the age of Lyndie and I, standing on a street corner. They were talking and laughing, having what looked to be a really good day together. I bet they’d get a kick out of seeing me in a dirty diaper and a caged cock. Maybe Mommy would humiliate me in front of them. Or anyone else.

Mommy and I, we didn’t know everything about each other yet. But we knew a lot. We knew the tells. And she already knew that I didn’t want to know what lied ahead. Nothing kept me under her control better than the fear of the unknown.

“That’s okay.” And, without even thinking about it, I added: “I’m, uhm, wetting myself again, Mommy. J-just a little.”

Joel was looking back at us via the mirror, curious as ever.

“Of course you are, Baby. We’ll get you changed soon enough.”