Doing Business (Complete Season 1) (Patreon)

One

We are delighted to have you as a member of our internship team! Many of our current employees, from a vast array of departments, got their start with internship programs just like the one you’re enrolled in now.

Are you ready to apply yourself to actual workplace problems that need to be solved? As important as your time spent in the classroom has been, the hands-on experience you’re about to get here may serve as your greatest learning aid yet.

We hope you’re ready, because this is going to be both fun and educational.

—

An intern wasn’t an employee. An intern barely qualified as a human being. An intern was just a body–a hollow husk–that was only acknowledged when a task had been found that absolutely nobody else on the payroll would want to do.

I imagined that the arrangement was good for both the company and my school. Both would consider me an example of their institutions aiding and growing students with “real world experience.” And being young and naive, I believed it to be a privilege. An honor.

Thus, I was spending my daylight hours wearing a shirt and tie, discarded in a small office that was likely a supply closet before interns were brought in. It was just Lyndie and I. Watching YouTube and complaining about how warm or how cold our office was on that particular day.

Lyndie was over it not long after we started. She was cynical to start with, but all it took was 10 minutes of being in an office building where men, older than her by 40+ years, stared at her chest to realize that she no longer wanted to be whatever it was she was studying for.

I, on the other hand, had an eagerness that couldn’t be as easily squashed. The company was just waiting for someone stupid like me to show up so that it could devour me whole.

It was a Friday afternoon in The Closet–the name we had given to our makeshift cupboard of an office–when the door opened and Anderson waltzed in. We didn’t know his real name–this was just what we called him.

“I’ve got some work for you,” he said. “A little project. You got some time?”

Lyndie and I looked at each other, stifling laughter. We had all the time in the world.

“I’m actually heading out for the weekend,” Lyndie said, grabbing her coat from off the back of her chair. I didn’t know a lot about her, but the move seemed like Classic Lyndie - complain about the lack of things to do, but bounce when a purpose arose.

“Of course,” I said, stepping up. “What can I do for you?”

“Walk with me.”

We walked. I had very little knowledge of the office’s layout. Lyndie and I know the path we took to The Closet and that was about it. We were quickly out of familiar territory, and the deeper we got into the abyss of cubicles and offices, the more concerned I was that I might never find my way back to the exit again. This is it for me. Tell my mother I love her.

“We were awarded the Richard Kahn Performance Award last month,” Anderson said. “Did you hear that?”

I have no clue what this award was. I have no idea who Richard Kahn is, nor what sort of performance his name is connected to. I’m not even sure where I am or who Anderson actually is. How did we come up with the name Anderson? Was that a Matrix reference?

“It’s very prestigious,” I said, hoping that this suffices as an answer to his question.

“Yeah it is. Damn right. We worked our asses off for that, you know? We got shafted last year, but we weren’t going to let that happen again.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Anyways, here we are.”

We were in a hallway; a fancier one, if such a thing is possible. He picked something off a table and stuck it into my hands.

“Oh...is this…”

“That’s the award,” he said.

It didn’t look as prestigious as his excitement had painted it just moments ago. It looked like the sort of thing I would’ve been given at the end of a season of little league. It might as well have said: “Most Improved Player.”

Still, I wasn’t sure why he was giving it to me, or why he brought me all the way to this hallway.

“So you want me to...file this?”

“What? Kid, look at the wall. I need you to hang it up. With the others.”

I turned around, taking in the assortment of plaques, awards and other framed certificates that had almost completely covered it.

My heart sank a little. My first task and it was doing the same thing that I imagined the office maintenance man was for. I tried to imagine what I’d tell Lyndie about this on Monday. There was no doubt that she’d get a kick out of this.

“Do you have, like, a hammer or some nails?” I asked. Mind you, I wouldn’t have known what to do with either.

Anderson shrugged. “Look, I’m not the maintenance guy.”

Neither am I.

I foolishly believed that he was walking away so that he could help me find the tools I’d need. But when he didn’t come back after five minutes, I took that as a sign that he wouldn’t be coming back at all. Left to my own devices, I had to improvise. I considered ramming a bent paperclip into the wall with a stapler–both of which were tools within my range of vision–but the last thing I wanted was for someone to ask who put the plaque up when it fell down and clobbered someone on the head. Anderson would rat me out too, I just knew it.

My solution to this problem was to scan the awards on the wall, find the one that looked the least important, replace it with the new award, and then hide the old one. This plan was going pretty well until I had an old award in hand and I was looking for a place to stash it.

“Are you the one making all the racket out here?” Her voice was firm and commanding, but there was a melody to it. I spun around to see who it belonged to.

She was gorgeous. I’d never seen her before, nor had I even seen anyone quite like her. She was tall. Sturdy. Her dark hair cascaded over shoulders and her strong arms were folded in front of her.

“Oh...was I being loud? I didn’t mean to…”

“What is that? In your hands?”

I nervously held up the old award I had planned to find a dark hiding place for. I suddenly felt like a little boy holding some shameful mistake up to my mother for inspection.

“The Carmichael Award from 1998?”

“I was...putting up a new award,” I said, pointing to the plaque I had put up in its place.

She shrugged. As it turned out, she probably didn’t know what a Carmichael Award or a Richard Kahn Award was either, and she most certainly did not care.

“Are you new here?”

“I’m an intern.”

“We have those?”

“Apparently.”

She looked me over very carefully. She was judging me. Scanning me for flaws. Picking me apart with her eyes.

“Do you have any other obligations for today?” she asked.

“I...well, I guess that’s all I have for today. Just got to find a place for this award here and…”

“May I see that?”

I handed her the plaque, and without any hesitation at all, she dropped it into a nearby trash can.

“There. You’re caught up. Join me in my office, won’t you?”

For the first time, I was looking at the name placards on the wall for the offices in this hallway. Richard Donovan; CCO. Emily Sutch-Wilson; VP of Marketing. Darren Yang; CFO. I had been in the executive hallway this whole time. I was now nervous to see who this woman was.

I followed her into her office as she had asked me to, glancing at her placard: Gabrielle Heller; CEO.

She closed the door behind me and took a seat at her desk. It was a large office, understandably so, though it felt so alien after seeing the endless ocean of cramped workstations the rest of the company endured. There was a fridge, a fireplace. An additional table with chairs. An exercise bike. A door to what I suspected was a personal restroom.

“What did you say your name was?”

I wasn’t sure that I had told her. “Clark. Clark Ashburn?” I wasn’t sure why I phrased it like a question. Surely I knew that better than she did.

“What are your aspirations here, Mr. Ashburn?”

“Aspirations… Well, uhm, jeez. I hadn’t really thought of it like that, you know? My program at school requires so many hours of internship and your company brought me on, so…”

“And what is the end to these means? School. Internships. When it's said and done, what are you looking to do with yourself?”

I hated this question, but mostly because I never had an especially good answer for it. “Business?”

“Was that a question, Mr. Ashburn?”

“I’m hoping that my experience with your company helps to guide me towards the best career choices and…”

She was laughing and shaking her head. “Oh, come now, you don’t believe that, do you? I was an intern once. It was a requirement to meet and nothing more. How long have you been interning here?”

“Two weeks?”

“And what have you accomplished here so far?”

“I...put up that award a few minutes ago.”

“Mr. Clark Ashburn, you’re in an interesting position right now.”

“A-am I?”

“You’re an intern with a company that clearly has little idea of what to do with an intern. You’re bored, yes?”

“Maybe…” Should I be admitting such things to someone like her?

She bit her lip for a moment and then smiled. “Care to make things interesting?”

“I...I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I’m going to make you a proposition. You can think it over and get back to me, if you’d like. It’s going to sound like...a lot. But I have confidence that you’ll keep this conversation to yourself, regardless of what you choose. Do you know why?”

I shook my head.

“Because nobody would believe you if you tried to tell them.”

My heart was racing. What the hell was she about to spring on me?

“I had an assistant a few years ago. Her name was Hillary. The sweetest little thing you’ve ever seen. She waited on me hand and foot. I felt a little guilty about testing her limits at first, but...that was her position, and I’ve got enough power and clout that I can do things like that. So I’d try pushing her a little. I’d ask her to pull her pants down for me so that I could inspect her panties. I’d make her crawl around my office for me on her hands and knees. I’d make her do...well...lots of things.”

My heart was beating even faster. My mouth was dry. Palms sweaty. Where was this going?

“Don’t worry,” she added. “She absolutely adored it. She’d eventually start begging me for it.”

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“Engaged,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “Happens to the best of us, I guess. Some dingus with a boat gave her a ring and they moved to Connecticut. Seriously? Fucking Conneticut?”

I offered the slightest of shrugs.

“My current assistant, Daniel. He’s fine. Nice enough, I suppose. But not really plaything material, if you know what I mean.”

“Plaything?”

“Plaything,” she said with a nod. “One that I can play with.”

“Oh…”

“Look, you’re not doing anything here anyways. You’re young and horny, right? Wouldn’t you like to have some powerful woman knock you around a little bit? There’s something about you. It’s hard to put my finger on what that something is, but I know it when I see it and I see it in you. Curiosity. A desire to please. You do want to please me, yes?”

There was a flutter in my stomach. I wondered if this was a talent that powerful people had - the ability to just look at someone and know how they’d be able to use them. I wouldn’t lie, this was almost, verbatim, out of my own fantasies.

It was the logistics that made me hesitant. My internship and my education would be on the line. My potential career path. My own reputation and dignity.

But...I suspected a woman like her didn’t get to be where she was if she hadn’t been careful.

“I’d like to think about it,” I said.

“So that’s not just an outright ‘no?’ Interesting.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “There’s a lot of unknowns. Can you...elaborate on what you’d be asking me to do?”

She laughed again. “Do you have any limits, Mr. Ashburn?”

“Limits?”

“Limits. Things–and it can be anything–that you just wouldn’t do. Regardless of the time, place, or company.”

“I mean...I don’t know… Like…”

“Would you crawl on the ground for me?”

“Yes.” I said the word before I had even thought about it. For as hesitant and careful as I wanted to be, she had been deadly accurate with her pinpointing of my still-blossoming horniness.

“Would you allow me to touch you?”

“Yes.” I winced immediately after, unsure if I’d regret this later. Was I committing to something?

“If I asked you to wear something for me, would you? Only you and I would know that you were wearing it, but it would be potentially humiliating for you.”

“Yes.” I was very, very, curious now. “I think.”

“Take the weekend and think it over,” she said. “Come back to me on Monday with an answer. I want you to think about limits, Mr. Ashburn. Make a list of the things you wouldn’t do, and come back to me with that. I’m a very imaginative woman, so I want you to think very hard about it.”

“Yes. Of course, Ms. Heller.”

I left her office, absolutely abuzz with confusion and disbelief. I looked at her name placard again, wondering if I had misread it. I imagined that I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone and closer examination would reveal that I had actually stumbled into a broom closet and had been talking to an old mop.

No. She was who I believed her to be.

It took me 25 minutes to find my way back to The Closet.

Details of our conversation fluttered about in my mind. These sorts of things–these conversations–didn’t actually happen in real life; and they absolutely did not happen to me. This was a joke. An extremely elaborate form of hazing, maybe.

I suspected that I’d arrive in her office on Monday with an answer, regardless of what it was, only to find a completely different woman in the office. Then, I’d learn that the woman I met was just an actress. Part of a cruel prank from someone like Anderson.

Could I at least have the actress’s phone number?

It didn’t take an entire weekend to figure out what I wanted to do about this. I was pretty sure by the end of my train ride that Friday afternoon that I would go back to her on Monday with a cautious acceptance of her offer. I would spend the weekend trying only to justify this answer to myself.

It was her position that would ultimately be the factor that I clung to most tightly. What high-powered and visible company executive would jeopardize their career over such strange games? Unless they were sure that they could get away with it. And she had, right? Hillary. But then there was Daniel, who was apparently not cut from the same cloth.

I wondered what it was she saw in me that she didn’t see in Daniel.

As if there had been any doubt about what potential my mind saw in this arrangement, I had a similar dream three nights in a row - growing in detail each time.

Sunday night’s found me in that executive hallway again, crawling down it on my hands and knees. “There you are,” she said, stepping out from her office–clad in leather and holding a wooden paddle. “We’ve got a lot of work to take care of today. Be a good boy, won’t you, and join me in my office? You’ll be spending the afternoon over my lap.”

It had been a while since I made a wet spot in the bed like that.

Monday morning, back in The Closet, a sleepy Lyndie inquired about Friday afternoon’s task: “Did they, like, ask you to file some papers or something? Take out the trash?”

“I just had to hang up an award.” I chose to leave out the part about being poached for a strange power game.

“What a waste of time,” she muttered. “At least I have a place to do schoolwork. It’s a shame we don’t get paid for this.”

I wanted to tell her more. I wanted to tell her everything. We were hardly friends, and I didn’t know her well enough to trust her, but if anyone could appreciate the absurdity lurking under the surface of the corporate world, it was my fellow bitter intern.

“Do you know Gabrielle Heller?” I asked her.

“Should I?”

“She’s the CEO here.”

She offered an apathetic shrug. “Good for her. What about her now?”

“Just curious if you had ever met her before.”

“I’ve met, like, two people from this company. So, no, I have not met the CEO. Have...you?”

“Nah. Just wondering what she’s like.”

“My advice, Clark? Don’t think about people who are never going to think about you.”

Later in the day, I tried to recreate the path that Anderson had taken me down previously. It was hard, considering I hadn’t been paying attention at the time. Clearly I didn’t predict a strange encounter with management. Ten minutes later, I was approached by a young man - he looked to be a little older than me, but not by much.

“Can I help you? You look lost.”

“Oh...I was just heading over to…” my voice trailed off as I realized how ridiculous I was about to sound. “...Ms. Heller’s office?”

“Ms. Heller? Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m an employee.” That was kind of true.

His skeptical eyes seemed to imply that I would’ve had more luck if I was a visitor and not an employee. “If you don’t have an appointment, I’m not sure that you’ll be able to see her this afternoon.”

Ah yes, this must’ve been Daniel.

“She’s expecting me, actually.”

His eyes narrowed further. “What is your name?”

“Clark Ashburn?”

“And you said you’re an employee here?” I didn’t like the implication in his tone, but I suspected he had already made up his mind about me.

I nodded.

“Let’s see if she’s available for you.

I followed him to his desk where he tapped away at a keyboard and consulted some unseen-to-me things. I could now see we were close to her office. Not far from where we stood, I could spot the award I hung the other day.

And there was the trash can where Ms. Heller had tossed the old award. It was empty now.

“Ms. Heller?” Daniel had called her from his desk. “Yes, I have a Clark...Fishburne here to see you?”

“Ashburn,” I said, correcting him.

He scoffed, visibly frustrated that he had to say my name at all. “Ashburn, I’m sorry.”

There was a short pause. I watched his eyes change from a smug annoyance to surprise.

He looked back to me, still speaking to her on the phone. “Y-yes. I’ll let him know.” He hung up the phone and expelled a short sigh. “Yes, she’ll see you now. Though, if I may ask, what is your position in the company?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer him. I was afraid if I told him the truth, it would arouse suspicion. Should an intern be meeting with the CEO? Still...who was I supposed to say that I was that wouldn’t look worse when he inevitably found out the truth? I’ve seen a sitcom or two before.

“An intern,” I said.

He didn’t say anything, instead offering only another skeptical nod.

I couldn’t have fled from his desk any faster.

I knocked on her door, only to find that it was opening before my knocks were completed.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, a wide smile on her face. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to reject my offer in person.”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to…”

“So you’re interested?”

“Well…” I wasn’t expecting to have to give an answer so soon. “Yes.”

“Excellent.”

She closed the door behind me, and closed the blinds in the window that looked into the hallway. The isolation and privacy felt intimidating - especially given the mysterious future ahead of us.

“I see no point in belaboring this,” she said. “Take your pants off for me.”

“Here? Now?”

“Shall I give you a minute or two to decide if I mean now or later? I have faith that you can figure out the right answer.”

I sighed and began unbuckling my belt. She was right–it had been kind of silly to even ask.

“What a good boy,” she said. “Look at who can follow directions.” Her voice was a mix of heavy condescension and sincere satisfaction. I was feeling a lot of things–not least of all humiliation–but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

I kicked off my shoes and shimmied my way out of my khakis, leaving them and my shoes in a small pile to the side. I was left in my button-down, boxer shorts and socks.

“Adorable,” she said, pacing around me, scanning me over yet again. “I see this from time to time. Little boys dressing up like their fathers. You’d like to be a big businessman?”

I offered only an insecure shrug.

“You look like a baby to me. Are you a baby?”

I shook my head.

“What if I want you to be a baby?”

I started to shake my head, but stopped myself. It was hard to explain–but there was something about her question that had piqued my interest.

I nodded. “Yes...if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I do,” she said. “But babies must look and act the part. Just having an adorable looking baby-face isn’t enough.”

I trembled a little, feeling even more uncertain of where this was going. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, for one,” she said, as she walked to a filing cabinet which she unlocked and opened, “while you’re in my office with me, you can call me Mommy.”

I swallowed nervously.

“And,” she continued, “we’ll have to get you into one of these.”

She held up the folded object she had pulled from the cabinet. I knew what it was–a diaper–but that answered very few of my questions. If anything, it created more.

“You...want me to put that on?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll be putting it on you myself. You’re just going to lie down on the ground for me and let me do that. And we should hurry. I have a meeting in ten minutes, and I’d like to make sure you’re nice and snug before we part ways for a bit.”

Two

Memo to all employees: Award plaques, trophies, and certificates should never be discarded in the trash. If you’re unsure of where to place one, please bring it to Office Management on the 8th floor.

Thank you.

—

“Where the hell have you been?” asked Lyndie upon my return to The Closet.

I wish I knew the answer to that. Another reality? One that was stranger than anything Lyndie would be able to believe?

“Exploring,” I said. It was the best I could come up with. I was hesitant to say much more. Lyndie was already so bitter about her experience here that I was afraid she’d turn against me too if I mentioned that I was meeting with anyone - let alone the CEO.

“Find anything good?”

“A vending machine that sells Jolly Ranchers,” I said. This much was true.

“Strange,” she said. “These people don’t strike me as the types who enjoy flavor.”

I was overthinking every single one of my movements. The thick diaper had this loud crispy crinkle to it that seemed to overpower any other sound in my vicinity. Or...that was just the way I perceived it. I was now walking carefully. Rotating my torso carefully. Sitting down carefully.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course… Why do you ask?”

“You seem weird,” she said. “Weirder than usual.”

“Do I...normally seem weird to you?

She laughed. “You’re...I dunno. Boyish?”

“I am a boy.”

“Well sure. But you’re trying to be a man, right? You’ve got this goofy little childlike look about you. It’s those big eyes and the way you look at the world around you. It’s cute. It’s...naive.”

Childlike? I decided that she could absolutely not find out about this diaper.

“Maybe the world just hasn’t crushed my spirits yet.”

“Maybe you haven’t been living yet,” she retorted–a comment that felt as foreboding as it seemed likely.

I had been given very few instructions from Ms. Heller, and even the ones that she did give me were vague: “Use them. Come find me when you need to be changed.”

It had all happened so quickly that it seemed like a hazy dream now. One moment we were just talking in her office. The next, I was on the ground with my pants off and she was putting a diaper on me. I let her do that? Now, I was wondering if I was forgetting details. Was there more she had said that I was just forgetting?

Did she literally expect me to use the diaper?

The workday didn’t have much time left in it. 5:00 PM was on the horizon, and it seemed to be the division between those who were willing to drop everything–regardless of what they were doing–and those who were going to stay later until the work was done.

I didn’t know which side of that line Ms. Heller fell on, but I didn’t want to assume anything. Nor did I want to let her down. I carefully weighed my options and quickly came to a few decisions. I’d need to wet my diaper. And I’d need to find Ms. Heller. And I’d need to do both of those things by 5:00 PM.

It was 4:30.

My foot began tapping uncontrollably. I had never worn a diaper before. Not since I was an actual baby, anyways. And now I was going to...use it?

Who keeps diapers in their office anyways?

“You alright?” Lyndie asked, glancing down at my foot as it jackhammered its way into the ground.

“Oh...yeah. Thanks, I’m good.”

“You sound like you have ants in your pants.”

You have no idea what's in my pants right now. “Just...getting restless, you know? For the end of the day.”

She was mostly distracted by her phone, which seemed ideal for me. I didn’t dare walk past her again with my loud diaper, so I was just going to have to settle down and do it there. Right there. With her in the room.

There’s no way. There is absolutely no way that I can do this.

But...it suddenly felt way easier than it had moments earlier. I don’t know if it was the stress or the presence of the diapers or what–but I could suddenly feel my bladder begging for my attention.

Easy. This is easy. All I have to do is...pee.

Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing came out of me. I had to pee, so why couldn’t I just pee? I tried again, making the most conscious, strenuous, effort to piss I’ve ever made in my life.

A tiny grunt escaped my mouth.

“Are you...sure that everything is okay with you?” Lyndie asked.

I feigned a cough, as if whatever she heard earlier was just...more of this? She either bought it, or never cared that much in the first place, because she was reading her phone again.

You can do it, you can do it, you can do it. It’s just...peeing. You do it all the time. You can do it anytime, anyplace. All you have to do is do it now. In...your pants. With Lyndie in the room.

I could feel it. I could just feel my bladder growing more desperate for release, no thanks to my efforts to provoke it. It felt close. Just a little more…

A little sigh of relief as I felt the hot spurt of my stream escape into my diaper. The warmth spread, and a wet heaviness enveloped all of the padding between my legs. It was weird. It was gross–or at least I was raised to believe such a feeling would be gross.

It was one of the most thrilling things I had ever done.

“It’s close enough to 5,” Lyndie said. “I’m outta here.”

“Yeah, go for it. Get out of here.”

She shot me a quizzical look. “Are you staying? Aren’t you leaving too?”

We had walked to the subway station together the last week or two. And...if I was going to stay, I’d need a good excuse as to why I was.

“You know what?” I said, shrugging dramatically. “I forgot that I have to print some shit out for school. I gotta take care of that for a few minutes. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She shrugged–the best form of acceptance she could offer. “Yeah, sure. Have a good night. Use up all the company’s ink.”

She was gone, the door was closed and it was just me and my diaper. I leaned back in my chair, plunging a hand down my pants to feel the saturated garment. The firm padding was so different compared to how it felt when dry.

I wanted to show her. I wanted to show Ms. Heller and make her proud of me.

What? Make her proud of me...peeing myself?

It was a complicated set of emotions. I had to focus. There’d be plenty of time to second-guess my strange life decisions later. Right now, I promised the head of my company that I’d use my diaper, and now I needed to show her that I had.

I gave Lyndie a few minutes head start before I ventured out of The Closet myself, but even with that buffer, I had never felt so self-conscious. It was as if a giant spotlight was shining on me. Any moment, someone, anyone, would spot me and would immediately be able to see not only what I was wearing under my clothes, but they would also know what I had done in them.

Realistically, logically, I knew this was unlikely. Still, this didn’t feel entirely implausible either. This diaper was thicker than any pair of boxers or briefs that any other man in this building wore, for one. I had also added what felt like a gallon of liquid to it. If the weighty sag of the bottom of my diaper wasn’t visible, then my forced waddle as a result of the wetting had to have been.

Down the maze-like corridors I went, yet again, dodging worker ants scrambling around to finish their end-of-day projects. Time may have been on my side after all.

“Mr. Ashworth,” a deadpan voice said from my side. “Here yet again?” Daniel seemed even less pleased to see me this time than he had earlier.

“Ashburn,” I corrected him, again. “I’m here to see…”

“Ms. Heller, yes?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t appreciating his tone.

He clucked his tongue - a cocky little passive aggressive gesture designed not to be challenged. He tapped a button on his phone. “Ms. Heller?”

A brief pause.

“The intern is back. Shall I take a message or… Right. Of course. One moment.”

With a sigh he hung up the phone. I wondered if it was going to be like this every time I came over here. I didn’t bother waiting for him to acknowledge her confirmation, I waved to him and walked to her office.

“Come in,” she said as my hand approached the door knob. “Close the door behind you,” she added as I stepped into her office.

“I didn’t catch you at a bad time or anything, did I?”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘bad time,’ my dear.” Her voice was seductive. She was a cartoon snake coiling around me and staring into my soul with her swirly hypnotic eyes.

I loved it.

“I...I did what you asked me to.”

She smiled, standing from behind her desk, her hungry hands rubbing together. “Is that so? And what, exactly, did you do?”

“I...well…”

“I can’t smell you from here, so I’m going to assume that you didn’t…”

“N-no,” I said, cutting her off. “I could never do that. Has...someone done that?”

She offered an innocent shrug and smiled. “A lot of things have happened in this building. I could tell you anything and you’d believe it. Let’s worry about you and what you actually have done in your pants.”

“How...do you want to do this?”

“You’ll stand right there, where you are.” She maneuvered around her desk and approached me. “I’m going to pull your pants down and have a look for myself.”

I nodded.

She hastily unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants. “You’re very obedient. Compliant. Some people would say that’s a fault.”

“Do you feel that way?”

With a hand on either side of my pants, she tugged them down to my knees, exposing the plump swollen diaper that hung between my legs. She continued to speak as her hand gently cupped the bottom of the diaper, feeling how heavy and sodden it had become: “I am of the mind that there are two types of people–leaders and followers. And, contrary to popular belief, one is not more powerful than the other. Both need each other. Some may argue that there should be no leaders at all, but...inadvertently, there’s always a leader. There has to be. Myself? I’m a leader. You? You’re a follower. You need me. But I need you.”

“You need...me?”

“These diapers aren’t going to dirty themselves. And I’ve only just begun to play with my new toy.” She slowly slid the backs of her fingers up the front of the diaper. I felt myself stiffening inside of it. “Yes, I need you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. Well, I knew what I wanted to say, but it didn’t seem relevant to anything she had just said: “Thank you.”

She laughed. “For what?”

“For letting me do this with you?” No, that didn’t sound right. I corrected myself: “For you.”

“You’re a good boy. I think we’re going to have fun.”

I nodded.

“Would you like for me to change your diaper?”

I had just assumed that this would be what happens next, and I would have been fine with that. Having agency over that decision was a pleasant surprise–though I realized that it might have just been the illusion of agency. “Yes.”

“Should I ask in the future?”

Betraying the thought I just had: “No.”

“I thought so. Let’s go, then. On the ground. On your back. We’ll get you into a clean and fresh diaper.”

“Oh, well...it’s the end of the day for me,” I said. “So I need to go home and…”

“I’m going to put you into another diaper. And I’m leaving it up to you what you do with it.”

She pulled some supplies from her closet. I couldn’t see what everything was, but I could see the bulky new diaper in her hand.

This wouldn’t stop feeling weird for a very long time, I suspected.

She knelt on the ground, shifting the hem of her short dress out from under her knees. Leaning forward and between my legs, she unfastened the tapes on both sides of the diapers. She eased back the front of the diaper through my legs, revealing my hardened cock.

She swirled a single finger in my moist pubic hair, giggling to herself.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Ashburn? A boyfriend?”

“No…” I said.

“So, nobody would miss your youthful coat of fur down here if I lopped it all off?”

“You...you’d do that?”

“I’d like to. How would you feel about that?”

It felt...different. She wasn’t suggesting something permanent, though it was something that would...linger. She’d leave her mark on me, and until the hair was back–if it was allowed to come back at all–I’d know it was her doing every time I saw myself in the mirror. It somehow felt like a step beyond just wearing a diaper for her.

But, of course, I just nodded my head.

“Excellent,” she said. “And what of this?” She grasped my cock in her hand, slowly letting her fingers run up the shaft before sliding them back down. “This seems...cumbersome. It’s probably difficult enough to wear a diaper around the office. But a diaper with this happy little fellow bopping around? Maybe we should do something about that too.”

“Like...what?”

“I have some ideas. For now, what if I just…”

Her grip tightened on my cock and her hand continued gliding up and down on my shaft. There was very little lubrication, and what was there was just the lingering droplets of my own piss. And seeing this attractive and powerful woman between my legs, rubbing my own urine into my cock only made me harder. It only made me want release even more. It only made me want…

I came, sloppily, launching a glob of white onto my belly. For an all-to-brief moment, I found myself awash in bliss, only to quickly remember where I was. And who I was with. My cheeks flared. I felt like a twelve year old boy again, making a mess of myself while I tried to discover my body.

“Now isn’t that just adorable,” Ms. Heller cooed. “That barely took a minute.”

I didn’t actually mind, given the circumstances, but my ego couldn’t just stand idly by without trying to offer an explanation. “Ah...well, you see…”

She planted something in my mouth, the soft rubber-like bulb pressed between my lips could only be a...pacifier.

“Enough out of you. You just let me clean you up and we’ll get you into a new clean diaper. I do believe we’ll need to do something about this pointy little toy of yours, but I believe I have some answers for that as well.”

I should’ve been paying better attention, but between my post-climax haze and the newborn oral fixation with the pacifier, I was a million miles away. I bit at it. Sucked on it. Ran my tongue around it. It was so simple. I could see how such a simple object might soothe a toddler.

The more I played with the shape in my mouth, the easier I found it to slip into a natural suckling motion.

Things were happening near my bottom. The feeling of a damp cloth running across my butt. Another, swooping up between my legs, and another tightly wrapping itself around my now-flaccid shaft.

“Do you live alone?” she asked.

“No,” I said through the pacifier. “Roommate.”

“Shall I spare you the baby powder?”

I nodded. I already knew I was going to be self-conscious about wearing the diaper out of this building and back to my apartment. But to smell like an actual infant? That seemed like more than I could handle.

But eventually…

The new diaper was slid under me, and she quickly folded it around me, securing it in place with the tapes. I’d hesitate to say that she was an expert–because maybe the process was far more intuitive than I knew. But she certainly had a level of comfort with it that I wouldn’t question.

I plucked the pacifier from my mouth. “Do you have children?”

“I do not,” she said. “Not for lack of trying. I suppose any psychologist would have a field day if they heard me say that while I put you into a diaper.”

She snatched the pacifier from my hand and popped it back into my mouth.

“When I put a pacifier in your mouth, however, it stays until I remove it. Is that understood?”

I nodded, feeling my cheeks glow again.

“I trust you know how to put your own pants on?”

I nodded once more.

That’s when she pulled the pacifier out from my mouth. “Good. I’l hold on to this. Why don’t you go and get dressed? I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

“Will we do this...every day?”

“Do you want to do this every day?”

I started to shrug, but I stopped. I nodded instead.

She smiled. “Come see me in the morning when you get here.”

“Your assistant. Daniel?”

She scoffed. “What about him?”

“He’s...nosey. I don’t want to say ‘suspicious,’ because I don’t know if I’m right or not, but…”

“Say no more. I’ll deal with that. You just be here tomorrow morning. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t care for ‘ma’am,’” she said. “I asked you to call me Mommy, remember?”

“Yes…Mommy.”

Three

So, how is my new internship going? Well, funny you should ask. The CEO of my company has asked me to be her personal office plaything and has convinced me to wear–and use–diapers while calling her ‘Mommy.’ You know, it’s a really rewarding experience. One that will surely benefit my career aspirations.

While I hadn’t actually said that to my roommate when he asked how my internship was going, I had been trying to imagine how absurd it would’ve sounded if I said the truth. There didn’t seem to be a way to present it that didn’t look crazy, however.

“Want to go down to the cafeteria with me and grab some coffee?” Lyndie asked soon after I arrived at The Closet.

I felt my cheeks warm a little. It’d be hard to explain why I couldn’t, but…I couldn’t. I had other obligations.

“Maybe I’ll meet up with you in a little bit,” I said. “I’ve got to go see…HR.”

“Really? How come?” It didn’t come off as doubt, just curiosity. Which was probably the better of the two options, though I’d rather she just didn’t ask questions at all.

“Just a little snafu with the intern paperwork from the school, I think. Nothing serious.”

“Huh,” she said. “Do you think I should go too? Make sure all my stuff is in order?”

“N-no, I think you’re probably good,” I said. “Or…you know, they’d call you down if they needed you to.”

She shrugged. “Whatever. Alright, I guess I’ll see you later.”

While seeming like a pretty mundane situation, it had served as a reminder of the potential stakes of this strange new world I was entering with Ms. Heller. I’d need better excuses, and more of them.

It was the most confident trip I had made to Ms. Heller’s office yet, with barely any doubts about the path I was supposed to take.

“Good morning, Clark.”

It wasn’t the bitter-sounding tone of Daniel that I expected. It was Ms. Heller herself, waiting for me in the hallway, beckoning for me to follow her into the office.

“Good morning,” I said. Just talking to her made my cheeks flush with warm blood. It was astonishing how quickly she managed to have a hold on me.

No sooner than I had stepped into her office, I saw that a diaper was already waiting for me atop her desk. It just sat there in clear view, as if it was a pad of paper or her phone. I tried to imagine how she’d react if it was someone else walking into her office right now–would she have quickly hidden it? Or did it just stay out like that?

At her level, would anyone even dare question it if they thought they saw a large diaper on her desk?

“No Daniel today?” I asked.

“Starting today, Daniel will no longer be part of the company,” she said, closing the door to her office.

“Oh…”

“He won’t be giving you trouble any longer.”

“Did you…fire him?”

“Let him go,” she said. “It’s less harsh. And he got a severance too.”

“But…I’m just an intern,” I said. “He…he was a full time employee and…”

“I know when someone isn’t a good fit for my company,” she said. “If it makes you feel better, I can assure you that I already had my doubts about him. Besides, it’s not like I’ll be going without help for much longer.”

I opened my mouth, speaking like a true naive little boy: “Oh, are you hiring someone new to replace him?”

She smiled. “I have someone in mind, yes. But why don’t we talk about that later? For now, we ought to get you in today’s diaper.”

“Oh, well actually…”

“No chit-chat, Clark. On the ground now. On your back.”

I thought I had something else to contribute, a relevant tidbit as it were, but I wasn’t about to give her the impression that I was being defiant. I did as she asked, quickly flattening myself on the ground.

“That’s a good little boy,” she said. The pacifier was in her hand again, and she pressed it between my lips. Unlike the last time, I was ready for it. In fact, I welcomed it. “That’s a good baby. Suckle on that while Mommy takes care of you.”

She took my shoes off, setting them aside. I held my breath as she slid my pants down my legs. I knew what she was going to see–the very thing I was going to tell her of a moment ago, had I been allowed to talk.

“Well now,” she said. “This is a surprise. You’ve come to me pre-diapered today?”

I shook my head.

“Ah yes.” Her smile grew in size. “This is the same diaper you left my office in yesterday.”

I nodded.

“It’s…heavy.” She took a long slow drag of the air around my diaper through her nose. “A little stinky too. Old pee, hmm?”

I shrugged. I thought I would’ve defended myself. I would’ve explained why I was still wearing that diaper. But in the moment, suckling on the rubber bulb of the pacifier as she knelt between my legs, it didn’t seem all that important to. Surely, she could figure it out on her own.

She did. “I suspect someone would much rather have me change their diaper for them.”

My cheeks felt as if they were glowing. It had been a hard night. Not only did I need to hide my crinkling diaper from my roommate, but I had to limit the amount I ate and drank–as to ensure that I didn’t fill the diaper beyond a capacity where I couldn’t wear it to work the next day.

“This feels like a gift to me,” she said. “The little puppy rolling over and showing me his belly.”

I nodded. She could see right through me.

Her hand reached out and began to slowly rub my stomach. “You wet this diaper a bit, but… You went the whole night, and the whole morning, without taking the diaper off?”

“Mmhmm,” I moaned through the pacifier.

“My word. And you spent the whole day yesterday in a diaper, just wetting it once for me. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded once more.

“Well then you’re holding back on me. I bet you’re full of all kinds of things that you’re just holding onto, hmm?”

My bladder needed release again. My bowels too. It hadn’t been terrible until this morning, when the waves of cramping pains would start washing over me.

“That’s no good,” she said. “Quite unhealthy. You’re going to have to get it all out.”

I opened my mouth, letting the pacifier tumble out from my lips and onto the ground next to me. “N-no… I’m okay.”

“You realize that now that you’re expected to wear diapers, the restrooms are off limits to you, yes?”

“Well…”

“Clark. Baby. Let me spell it out for you: Your options are to either hold it in all day long, have an actual accident in your diapers while you work, or to take this opportunity here and now–in my office–to do your dirty business and then let me change you into a fresh diaper.”

The optimist in me thought that I might just be able to last another day. Then, tonight, I’d go home and spend an hour on the toilet. The realist in me knew I’d never make it. Given the choice of using the diaper in front of Ms. Heller, or at some unknown time–but probably while in the Closet–using the diaper in front of Lyndie, I knew what the better choice was.

“Just go,” she said. “Let it all out.”

“But…”

“Do I need to buy a strap to keep this in your mouth?” she asked, picking up the pacifier and popping it back into my mouth again. “I can assume you see the logic in not waiting an entire day to use a potty, yes?”

I sighed, nodding once more.

“Good. So it’s settled, then? You’ll stay here until you’ve done your business in the diaper. And then I’ll change you.” She stood up.

I knew I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t just let this moment pass without saying something. I spit the pacifier out into my hand, propping my upper body up a little bit. “You want me to just stay in…here? All day? In your office? Until I…”

She crossed her arms in front of her as she looked down at me. “I thought it was all rather clear. But, maybe it’s harder to understand when you’re just a little baby. Let me see if I can say it in a way that you can understand it better.” She took on a sarcastic and condescending tone: “Wittle baby is gonna stay in Mommy’s office until he makes his poopies in his wittle pampers. Is that better?”

My mouth opened to respond–but, really, what was I going to say? Even if she hadn’t made her expectations clear–and she did–I wasn’t going to last another day.

“Am I to take this silence as compliance?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Very good. I don’t imagine you have much to do this morning, yes? I think you’ll be fine just waiting here until you’re able to do your, uh, business.” She chuckled to herself, seemingly delighted by the use of ‘business.’

She was right. Were I back in The Closet again, I’d be doing school work while listening to Lyndie complain about something. I gave her another affirmative nod.

“Well some of us are busy mommies who have work to do,” she said, returning to her desk. “I want you to stay right there on the floor, and I don’t want you to get up until you’ve gone and filled up that diaper. I don’t care how long it takes. And, after you’re done, I want you to tell me.”

And just like that, she moved on with her morning, leaving me on the floor. No pants, just a diaper. The room had fallen quiet, save for the quiet rustling of the wet diaper and the clacking of her typing at her computer.

It was yesterday all over again. All I had to do was use the diaper–something that should be no problem at all, given the pressure in my bowels–but there was this psychological block preventing me from just letting go. My body knew where I was supposed to do this, and it wasn’t a diaper.

But I had time. All day, if needed.

I wondered what Lyndie was doing by herself in The Closet. Was she thinking about me? Wondering where I was? Would she question my absence when I returned? What believable excuse could I possibly use?

I had to close my eyes and concentrate to do it, but I was at least able to wet myself again. It was such a relief to ease at least some of the tension in my body. The already-sopping diaper grew warm again, and I felt the wetness spread to new areas of the diaper as the liquid sought new padding to saturate. It would’ve been blissful if I hadn’t recognized another new feeling on my legs.

I took the pacifier out of my mouth. “Ms. Heller?”

“I won’t be answering to that name again while we’re in my office,” she said, without looking away from her computer.

“Uhm…Mommy?”

She smiled, now turning her face towards me. “Yes, sweetkins? Did baby do a boom boom in his diaper?”

“N-no.”

“Well then why are we talking?”

“Well…I’m, uhm, peeing. And I think the diaper is…leaking?”

“That’s fine,” she said. “You know what to do to get a fresh one.”

“But…it’s leaking onto your carpet and–”

“We have an exceptional cleaning staff, Baby. Why don’t you let Mommy worry about cleaning up after your puddles, okay? You just go back to working on that special little project I gave you.”

“Yes, okay.”

She tilted her head, as if expecting me to say something specific. I knew what she wanted to hear.

“Yes, Mommy.”

Another cramp rolled through my abdomen. Inside of me, it was war. I wanted to wait. But I also wanted release.

I wanted to fill my diaper while sitting in a puddle on the floor of my boss’s office.

The phone rang. “This is Gabby.”

I tried to listen intently, even if I was just getting half of the conversation. Listening to this company’s CEO talking business on the phone felt like a privilege and an honor. And while I never doubted her ability to lead, it was hearing her wield her power that further proved to me why she was running the company.

“I heard what you said you wanted to do,” Ms. Heller said to the person on the other end of the call. “But I want to know what you’re going to do.”

Her tone on the call wasn’t surprising to me–even if I had never heard this tone for myself before. She was, after all, CEO. Maybe there were exceptions, but I doubt that few made it to that level of the corporate ladder without having an edge to them.

I struggled to find the word to best describe how I felt. ’Comfort’ came closest, though it did feel like a strange word to use. Outside of this office, hundreds of people were starting their workdays. Coffee was being brewed, computers were being turned on, meeting invites were being sent out. And yet there I was, sitting on the CEO’s floor in a diaper, listening to her berate someone who I’d probably never have to interact with myself. It reminded me of being an actual child–sitting in my own little bubble, completely unaware of the real world moving around me.

I tuned in again, having spaced out for a moment: “...and I simply don’t find that acceptable,” she was saying. “Previously, you gave me your word that this situation was going to be taken care of. That was, what, two weeks ago? I wasn’t even thinking about it, because I sincerely believed that you were going to take care of it then. But this still hasn't been resolved?”

I wasn’t even sure if she was speaking to the same person anymore. Slowly, her voice faded into the background as I focused on my diaper once again. This swollen soggy lump between my legs. I was in need of a change–nobody could deny that. Ms. Heller knew that too, though she demanded one more thing. One more, tiny little insignificant thing.

I just had to poop my pants.

My mind flipped through the archives, trying to remember if I had any memory of ever having done such a dirty thing. But I was coming up empty. As best as I could recall, I had never faltered on my potty training.

On one hand, this would be quite the streak to be breaking now. On the other…this wouldn’t be an ‘accident.’ It’s not an accident if you do it on purpose–if that sort of thing actually mattered to me.

Did it?

“...and there are three different reports that came to the same conclusion about where those numbers are trending,” she was saying on the phone.

I didn’t want to poop my pants. Yet, I wasn’t sure what other way there was out of this situation. If I stood up, put my pants on, and walked out the door–what would she even do?

Cancel the internship? Did I even care about that? No, not especially.

Fuck. I knew the truth: I did want to poop my pants. I mean, no, that specific act didn’t sound fun in itself. But I wanted to make Ms. Heller happy. I wanted to play her game. If she made me dress up like a mouse and put me in a giant wheel to run in all day, I probably would’ve done that too. I wouldn’t have liked it. But I would’ve liked earning her approval.

So how do I do this now? How do I just…poop?

“...have to run it again. We can’t afford not to at this point. If we’re going to hit our expected growth then…”

It had taken me most of a workday to piss myself. I wondered how long I’d be sitting here on her floor. Two weeks?

I felt another pang of discomfort in my guts. No, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take two weeks, and it wouldn’t take me all day either. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but I could feel something was different. All I had to do was give my body the command, and I knew I’d be able to empty myself into the diaper.

“...not happy about it, plain and simple. Do you understand…”

It was getting harder to focus on her voice. All I could think about now was the diaper between my legs and what I would be doing in it soon. Any minute now. Whenever I was ready.

It happened a few times: I’d psyche myself up, take a deep breath, close my eyes and begin to push. Then, as I’d start to feel my sphincter reacting to my demands, I’d shut it all down.

This is really going to happen. It could happen at any moment I want.

For as long as I held it, I felt like I was still Clark Ashburn. I was still in a strange spot, but a normal life still felt like it was within my grasp.

But once I let go…I felt like the world was going to change. I’d be hers, and I’d have declared to her that she could make me do anything she wanted. This would be the very tip of the iceberg.

“...and that’s what I’m saying,” she said into the phone. “You need to trust me and…”

Okay, fine. Here we go.

I released an embarrassingly long fart into the diaper–a low-end bass tone that seemed to reverberate in the sodden garment. It was too late to stop it now, and it seemed to play out in slow motion. I pushed everything out of my body, and I felt the mass creep out from me, slowly filling the limited space between my legs. And when that was filled, it seemed to seep into any other available space.

It was a relief to have finished. I almost didn’t care about the absurdity of it all. Did I just shit myself in a diaper on the floor of Gabrielle Heller’s office? It didn’t matter. For a moment, I just felt good. I…felt proud of myself; like I had accomplished something.

It was the smell of the diaper, whacking me in the face, that brought me back to reality.

Oh shit. It smelled foul. Of course it did–it was supposed to. Yet somehow I hadn’t thought about this part of it, and now I burned with humiliation. Sitting in my own stink. My own filth. Was I really any different than an actual baby?

“...have lots of things to consider. I think you and I need to set up a meeting and…” This time, it wasn’t my focus that was fading. It was her voice. I could see it on her face as she looked down at me–she smelled my diaper for the first time. “Actually,” she said into the phone. “I’m going to have to call you back. I have an entirely different kind of mess to take care of here.”

She hung up the phone and stared down at me without saying a word. It was probably just a few seconds, but it felt like hours. She She slowly stood, her hands on her hips. She was smiling.

“Has anyone ever told you that they’re proud of you for filling up a diaper?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, today’s your lucky day.” She circled around her desk, walking closer to me. She took in a few more deep breaths through her nose. “I am very proud of you.”

I exhaled, realizing that I had been holding my breath. It felt official now–I was hers. This was just the beginning.

“Such a stinky, stinky, little boy. Do you have anything to say for yourself, baby?”

I thought about it for a moment. I wanted to say something, but I wanted it to count. I wanted to tell her that I was all in. I wanted her to know that she could have her way with me–whatever way that was.

But, surely, she already knew that.

So I opened my mouth and just said the first thing that came to mind: “I…need to be changed, Mommy.”

Four

This week, the cafeteria will be rolling out some tasty new options for us, including grilled chicken sandwiches and macaroni and cheese–made fresh daily.

And, by special request, animal crackers and apple juice have been added to the shelves near checkout.

—

“I…need to be changed, Mommy.”

She didn’t respond. Or, at least, she didn’t say anything. But I watched her smile grow. She was absolutely delighted with everything happening in front of her. I could see it in her eyes–this was the best case scenario. I was turning out to be exactly the person she wanted me to be.

She spun around abruptly and walked away from me, back to the supply cabinet she kept the supplies for big babies such as myself.

“I’m afraid you don’t get a choice on whether or not I use baby powder this time,” she said, setting down the items she had pulled out of storage for this diaper change.

“But…”

She was ready for me, artfully plugging my mouth shut with the pacifier.

“Lie on your back, Baby. Let Mommy take care of your smelly bottom.”

I did so, slowly exhaling as my back reached the carpet. I wanted to spit out the pacifier and further protest the use of baby powder, but I found the pacifier’s presence in my mouth to be soothing and distracting. As intended.

“I know, I know,” she said, peeling back the tapes on either side of the diaper. “You’re afraid that you’re going to smell like a baby all day while you’re here in the office. But is that such a bad thing? Are you not just a baby?”

I wasn’t going to react. But if I was going to, I wasn’t sure if I would’ve nodded or shook my head.

“Besides,” she continued, “it’s probably better that you smell like a clean baby instead of the dirty little poopy-pants you smell like right now. Isn’t that right?”

I nodded that time. I wasn’t sure that I agreed with her or not, but it felt like the right answer.

“And everytime you catch a whiff of yourself today, I want you to think about how it’s because you’re a baby. And Mommy put all this lovely powder on you.”

I wished I could’ve reacted in a different way, but I was still learning how to cope with this surge of new and strange emotions that left me…very erect.

“Ah, would you look at who it is,” she said, playfully batting at my stiffness. “This little fella again. “Isn’t that interesting? Wearing an absolutely filthy diaper in the office of your boss, and yet you’re still hard as a rock.”

The temptation was strong to take out the pacifier and attempt to defend myself, but I wasn’t even sure what I’d say. Sorry for being turned on by being made to poop my pants.

Thankfully, she didn’t need me to respond. She grabbed my hand and led it to my cock. “You’ve given me enough to do with this little mess. I’ll let you take care of your silly little boy-needs yourself. But I’ll still watch.”

For a split second, I considered doing nothing. Despite the erection, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to further humiliate myself.

But I was wrong. By the time I realized that I was incredibly turned on by everything that was happening, I realized that my hand was already stroking my cock.

“That’s it,” she said. “Be a good little boy and make yet another little mess for Mommy to have to clean up.”

I stroked myself even harder, feeling the tense friction between my skin and the shaft.

“You like this?” she cooed. “Touching yourself while you lie in your smelly diaper? The one you pissed and shit in? Are you a dirty little baby?”

“Yes,” I moaned. “Y-yes…”

“Are you just a dirty little piggy? Mommy’s little piglet?”

“F-fuck… Yes! Yes, Mommy! Yes…”

“Say it,” she said. “Tell me what you are.”

“I…I’m a dirty little…piglet. Mommy’s stinky little diaper-pig. Mommy’s little…” But my mind went blank as I reached climax. The world around me went white and faded out of existence. It was just me, the thick mass between my legs, and the feeling of sticky goo running through my fingers and dripping down my shaft.

“I think you’re ready for a diaper change now,” she said, somewhere outside of the pocket dimension I was floating inside of.

When I fully came to again, I was standing up and fully dressed. I could feel the thickness of the new diaper in my pants, just as I could hear its crisp crinkles–unyet sullied by multiple wettings. The last few minutes had been obscured by fog. I was a little disappointed that I had been out-of-body as she actually changed the diaper, yet I suspected that I’d get plenty more opportunities to experience that later.

I took a sniff of the air. There were a lot of scents bombarding my nose at once. Baby powder. The lingering stench of my old diaper–now bundled up in a plastic bag on the floor. And sweat. My own, assumedly.

“Well now,” she said. “There you go. Changed and ready for another big day.”

With my hand on the doorknob, I realized that the pacifier was still in my mouth. I sheepishly let it drop from my lips and into my hand. It could’ve been just a silly oversight on my part, but I wondered if I’d see this exacerbate over time. It was a reminder that for as deep as I would fall into Ms. Heller’s wild world, I’d need to keep a foot in reality too.

I tried to hand the pacifier back to her, but she shook her head. “Why don’t you hold onto that. Just in case you get fussy later.”

I slipped the pacifier into my pocket with a sigh. I doubted that I’d ever get ‘fussy,’ but the idea of carrying around additional reminders of my new role was exciting.

“Before you go,” she said, with the slightest bit of hesitancy, “I have something else I’d like to ask you.”

“Oh?” My mind quickly raced, trying to guess what she’d throw at me now. Would I have to do some other ridiculous task for her? Eat a jar of baby food in front of Lyndie? Call my mother and tell her I’m wearing a diaper? The worst part of all that speculation was, of course, that I’d at least consider anything she said.

“There’s an open position now, with Daniel’s departure. It’d be a full-time job, of course. But with pay and benefits.”

“Are you asking if I’d want to be your assistant?”

She nodded. “Technically, human resources would want to be involved. There’d be this whole process of posting the job internally and interviewing candidates and whatnot. But, as you know, I wield a good amount of power around here. I can make it happen.”

“Wow, I…” It was a crossroads I didn’t expect to be in. This was an internship. I was in school. To take on a full time job now, I wasn’t even sure how I could make that work.

“You, obviously, don’t need to make that decision right now. But, I’d like it if you considered it.”

“I’m flattered,” I said. “But what makes you think I’m qualified for that position?”

“All you have to do is do what I tell you to. And you’ve done a very good job of that so far.”

I was blushing again. I opened my mouth to reply, but I didn’t know what to say.

“Go,” she said. “We can talk about it later. You’ll be coming back to me when you need a change, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” she asked.

Oh, right. “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t my first walk back to The Closet with a new diaper on, but I had never felt more exposed. The gentle, but omnipresent, crinkling that came with every step was one thing. But I could smell the baby powder emanating from my bottom. It surrounded me like a cloud, and I just knew that it’d follow me around wherever I went.

I was tempted to just leave the office altogether. Besides Lyndie and Ms. Heller, would anyone even notice that I was gone? Maybe it’d be better to play hooky rather than cram myself into a small room with Lyndie.

No, I couldn’t do that. Ms. Heller would be expecting me to return for a diaper change and I wasn’t about to let her down.

Which meant that I’d have to return to The Closet and face Lyndie. I tried to keep an optimistic mindset about it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Maybe she’d have nothing to say. Maybe all my worrying was for nothing and it wasn’t actually that big of a deal.

“Where have you been, and why do you smell like a baby?” she asked immediately as I entered our small office.

My heart sank and I instantly felt queasy.

“Like…a baby?”

“I dunno,” she said with a shrug, half-looking up from her laptop. “It didn’t smell like that a minute ago. Now it smells like my baby niece’s nursery in here.”

Sighing, I sat down next to her, opening up my own laptop. I debated on what the move was going to be. Did I even bother attempting to play dumb? Or did I just tell her? Maybe I didn’t even need to tell her everything. Just a little bit.  But I had no idea what ‘a little bit’ would even be. That didn’t stop me from starting a conversation, with the hopes that I’d figure it out when I had to.

“Can I run a hypothetical by you?” I asked.

“I guess,” she said. “Sure.”

“Let’s say that a...celebrity walks up to you on the street. One that you know, but who clearly wouldn’t know who you are. They’re sexy and famous, and it feels like a huge honor for you to see them in person, let alone have the chance to talk to them.”

She shrugged, seemingly willing to play along. “I’m going to pretend it’s...Harry Styles. Okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Yum.”

“So...Harry, right? He’s like: ‘Hey, I want to do this crazy sex thing with you.’ And you, obviously, want that opportunity, right?”

“Like, how crazy are we talking? Is he just showing me a paddle? Or does he want to cook me and eat me?”

I was trying to think of a good example, and I just riffed off the top of my head. “Let’s say he wants to give you an enema.”

“Not really my thing. But, if that’s what Harry wants…”

“Okay, but here’s the thing. He’s not going to tell a soul about this. It’s only going to be you and him who knows this ever happened. You could go and tell other people about this, but they’re not going to believe you when you say that Harry Styles gave you an enema.”

“I dunno,” she said. “That doesn’t seem so bad to me. Is that what this is about? Do you want Harry Styles to give you an enema?”

“Ok, wait. This analogy isn’t working…”

“Clark, is someone from the office trying to give you an enema?”

I winced. My attempts to craft a hypothetical situation had landed Lyndie much closer to the truth than I was comfortable with.

I decided to start over again: “There’s a woman here. She’s management. Like...real big important management. She’s kind of singled me out on account of being a new and naive little intern and she’s made it abundantly clear that she’d like for me to be her…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence. I wasn’t sure how to.

“To be her what? Plaything?”

“Something like that. She has power, you know? Power over me. I see something in her that I really like and respect and I...want to be the person she wants me to be.”

“So…this isn’t hypothetical? This is really happening?”

I sighed, debating on how I was going to answer that.

“Oh shit,” she said. “It is, isn’t it? Who? Who is making you into their little sex slave?”

“I’m…not a sex slave.”

“Then what are you?” she asked.

I shrugged, completely exasperated. “Plaything seemed more accurate.”

“So what’s the issue here?” she asked. “Like, I find it hard to believe anyone wanted you to be their little interoffice toy. But, assuming you’re telling the truth…isn’t this all a good thing? The best possible outcome for a stupid and boring internship?”

“I guess that’s what I’m trying to figure out. There’s a lot at stake...but that could go both ways. If we get caught, it might look just as bad for her as it does for me. She has potentially a far greater height to fall from. But I could lose my chance of ever climbing the ladder to begin with.”

“Which seems like a pretty good argument against pursuing it.”

“Except…” I said, slowly.

“Except you want what she’s offering. Pretty badly, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you probably don’t need me to tell you it’s a bad idea. It’s selfish, irresponsible and could have long term ramifications for you.”

“I know.”

Lyndie sighed, adding: “But...fuck. I’m hella jealous right now. Do you have any idea how often I fantasize about my boss pulling my pants down and fucking my ass in the copy room?”

“So…?”

“I dunno. I mean, I’m not going to be the angel on your shoulder.”

Now that I’ve said it all aloud–and I had said far more than I had expected to–I wondered where we went from here.

“You only live once,” she said.

“So you think I should do this?”

“I would.”

I silently nodded as I pondered over what I’d do next.

“Are you going to tell me what Boss Lady wants out of you?”

I shifted in my chair, feeling my diaper crumple and crinkle beneath me. I had already wet it a little on the way back from Ms. Heller’s office–a little experiment to see if I could.

“Kinky stuff,” I said with a shrug. I thought I was revealing a lot, but given her blank stare, I realized I hadn’t said much at all.

“Clark, I bet everything is kinky to you. Do you think getting tied up is kinky? Getting paddled?”

“Yes?”

She rolled her eyes.

I wanted to get it off my chest; all of it. If I could trust anyone with it, maybe it was Lyndie. Not that I knew her especially well, but did I have much to lose in telling her? We didn’t know each other outside of the internship. No mutual friends. No other connections. Worst case scenario, if I quit and never came back, I’d never see her again.

“It’s...weird,” I said. “Embarrassing.”

“Okay. Well, look. I’m not gonna sit here and guess all day. But if you do wanna talk about it, just remember that I said that you can tell me and…”

I blurted it out: “She has me wearing diapers!” It was a relief to get it off my chest. But the uncomfortable silence that had followed made me second guess myself.

“Diapers?” she finally asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Have you…ever heard of anything like that?”

“Age play,” she said. “Yeah. Never really got into it myself. But I kind of get the appeal. Control and mommy issues and all that.”

“I don’t have mommy issues.”

“Are you going to call her ‘mommy’?”

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

She laughed. “How do you feel about it? Interested? Adamantly opposed?”

“Oh...quite interested.”

“Really?” She sat back in her chair and laughed. I watched her scanning me with her eyes, maybe trying to imagine me in a diaper. “I would’ve never guessed that it’d be your thing. But, I dunno. I can kind of see it. You got that cute little boy thing going on.”

“I…I’m not a…”

“Wait,” she said, sliding forward on her chair. “Are you wearing a diaper right now?”

“Uhm…”

“Shit. Holy fucking shit. You’re wearing a diaper right now, aren’t you?”

I wanted to deny it, but I was sure that she already knew the answer. “Yeah.”

“I want to see.”

“What? No way! I can’t just…”

“Look around us, Clark. No windows. They stuck us in a closet. Nobody else is going to see.”

“I can’t just pull down my pants for you.”

“No? I’ll do it. Right now. Say the word and I’ll just pull down my pants.”

“Yeah, but…” I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t the same thing–she wasn’t, as far as I knew, wearing a diaper.

But she was already standing, and with one fluid motion, she had pushed her pants to her thighs, exposing her purple panties to me. I wished I had the ability to make this moment about that. Her tight panties on her cute body, right in front of my face–were this any other time, this would’ve been the highlight of my day. My week. My year. Now? It was a bizarre footnote in a day in which I shit myself on the floor of the CEO’s office and showed my diaper to my only peer. She quickly pulled her pants back up, forever letting that moment seem like a fever dream that I had only hallucinated.

“Fine,” I said. I stood up and did the same. For the second time that day, I pulled my pants down to show someone my diaper.

“Fuck,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “That’s a fucking diaper.”

“I know.”

“And who is making you do this?”

“Nobody is making me do anything,” I said.

“Okay, sure sure. Who are you, uh, trying to please?”

“Gabrielle Heller.”

“Oh, you mentioned her the other day. What does she do here again?”

“She’s the, uh, CEO…”

“Oh, wow. Clark. You…really got yourself into something, haven’t you?”

“That’s an understatement.”

An awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments.

“Alright, well, you can pull up your pants,” she finally said.

I hadn’t even realized my pants were still down, the diaper still on display. In my rush to pull them back up again, I heard something tumble onto the ground. Probably a pen or my keys or something like that.

“Here, you dropped something,” Lyndie said, bending down to pick up whatever had fallen.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching towards her, not even thinking about what it could be.

“Oh,” she said, a smile growing on her face. She held the item in front of her face–both to get a better look at it and to taunt me with it. It was the pacifier. “Well isn’t this interesting?”

“Can…I have that back?”

“Will you throw a temper tantrum if I don’t?” she teased.

I felt frustrated for a moment before remembering what Ms. Heller had said about me needing the pacifier in case I had become ‘fussy.’ This might have been ‘fussy.’

“N-no…I just–”

“I’ll give it back to you,” she said. “Open wide so I can put it right where it belongs.”

I didn’t even think about it–I just opened my mouth and let her slide the pacifier between my lips as I had when Ms. Heller had done so.

“Well isn’t that the cutest thing?” she cooed. “Maybe you should leave that in. I’m sure your new Mommy would like that.”

And just like that, my weird days had gotten even weirder.

Five

In the closed confines of The Closet, we stared at each other. The pacifier remained planted in my mouth, as it had been for the last ten minutes. Everytime I made a move to take it out, she’d stop me.

“I have questions,” Lyndie said.

I finally spit out the pacifier. She didn’t have a reaction to that this time. “I’m sure you do.”

“Can I get honest answers from you?”

“I don’t know.”

It wouldn’t be hard to guess what some of the questions would be, and none of the answers would be fun to say out loud to her. And while I didn’t really owe her any answers, I was probably making my work-life experience potentially worse by refusing to answer. Maybe I’d lie. Maybe I’d be honest. I needed to know the questions first.

“So has Gabrielle done this before?” she asked. It was strange hearing Lyndie refer to her as ‘Gabrielle.’ Maybe that’s how most people referred to her. Ms. Heller, herself, had answered the phone as ‘Gabby’ earlier. But that didn’t feel like the name I’d use. I felt obligated to show respect. Ms. Heller in my mind. ‘Mommy’ out loud.

“I think so. Maybe not exactly this? But…things like this.”

“And are those diapers functional?” she asked.

I inhaled sharply. She was asking one thing, but she was really asking something else. I answered the literal question, knowing there’d be a follow-up: “They are functional. You could use them. If you wanted to. They work.”

She nodded, likely noting my ability to dance around the implied questions.

“Okay,” she said. “But are you using them?”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say before I said it. Yet I gave her the truth: “I…have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” she said.

“I agreed to.”

“And what do you get in return?”

I didn’t know the answer to that question–it wasn’t one that I had ever asked myself previously. But I didn’t take this to mean that there wasn’t an answer. It just meant that that answer had yet to be defined. The answer was a feeling in my body.

“I don’t know,” I said, chuckling a little to myself.

“Were I you,” she replied, “I think I’d want a better answer before I start pissing in diapers in the office.”

“I like it.” I didn’t so much say it as I did blurt it. “I like the way…she treats me.”

“Is it, like, the attention?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Attention, combined with power. Combined with humiliation.”

She shook her head, laughing again. “Sounds like a dream come true, then.”

“You think?”

“There’s, what, hundreds of people in this office? All the interns and entry-level grunt workers they’ve had over the years? And you get chosen to be the kinky plaything of the most powerful woman in the company? Crazy.”

“I can pass your name along, if you want,” I said. “Maybe Ms. Heller has room for another baby in her life.”

“Not really my thing,” she said.

“I would’ve said the same thing if someone told me this last week.”

“But now look at you. You’re wearing a diaper.”

She was missing my point, but it didn’t feel important to try and convince her otherwise.

“So?” she said, seemingly circling back on a previous question. My mind was in so many places at once that I wasn’t even sure what she was referring to.

“So?”

“She’s making you use the diapers?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck,” she said, once more shaking her head.

“Do you…like that? I can’t tell.”

“I don’t want to, like, be you,” she said with a smirk. “I don’t want to be told to piss my pants. But, goddamn, what a power move. Can you even imagine? Having such a commanding presence that you can ask some nobody to piss in a diaper, and they do?”

“Hey…”

“Oh come on,” she said, laughing. “I’m a nobody too.”

“Look, nobody can know about this,” I said. “You probably shouldn’t know anything at all, and I definitely can’t have this get back to Ms. Heller.”

“I don’t buy that,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“Clark. She made you walk through this entire building while wearing a thick ass diaper filled with baby powder. She doesn’t give two shits if anyone finds out about you.”

“But…”

She shrugged. “It’s another power move, right? She knows you’ll keep her involvement secret, because you have to work twice as hard to hide the fact that you’re a giant toddler now. Incredible, really. I want her to, like, be my mentor.”

“It’s probably best that there’s only one of her in the world.”

“So when are you supposed to go see her again? Do you have to, like, check in with her every so often?”

“Well, I have to report to her when I, uhm, need a–”

“Diaper change?” she asked, eyes wide with excitement.

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, that’s so incredible. So it’s not enough that you have to waddle around in the office, peeing your diaper, but you also have to get your diaper changed by her? Like a little baby?”

“I think you’ve got it all figured out,” I said, following with an exhausted sigh. There was more, and no doubt she knew that too. There was me messing myself in Ms. Heller’s office. Being made to pleasure myself in front of her before getting changed. The offer to work as her assistant. Details that were better off keeping to myself. Maybe for just today–maybe forever in some cases.

“Just when I thought this stupid soul-crushing shitstain of a company had nothing to offer me–you come through with all the entertainment I could’ve possibly wanted.”

“You can keep this between us?” I asked. “Right?”

“I want to tell everyone I know,” she said. “So badly. But…”

My heart pounded so fast that I wondered if she could hear it. “But?”

“But I won’t. It’s rare that you get to sit so close to the trainwreck that you can…” she took a long drag of the air through her nose, “...smell it.”

“Thanks,” I said, feeling entirely deflated. This had been an incredibly exhausting day already, and it wasn’t even lunch yet.

Time seemed to crawl forward after that. Lyndie, for her part, had busied herself with some school work and some light filing handed to her by Anderson. I expected a constant barrage of ribbing and jokes from her about the diapers–and there were a few, though less than expected.

I knew that I was expected to use the diaper, and I was okay with that inevitability. The challenge was timing. Did I just go whenever I had to? Did I wait until I couldn’t hold it anymore and then let it all go? How often did Ms. Heller think that I was going to come by for a diaper change?

I figured that it was safe to bet she’d be expecting me to come by her office at least one more time during the workday. Thus, I’d have to have at least one more diaper worth changing. I had a handful of small wettings throughout the day–little tests, really, to see that I could. But I could feel the call of my bladder, and I knew that a thorough soaking was in the cards.

Still, I was stuck there in The Closet with Lyndie. I debated getting up and leaving the room. I could waddle down a few random corridors until I found a quiet spot to piss myself. It seemed better than having to do it in front of her. I recalled, however, that I had already done that in front of her once. She didn’t know it, nor did she know about the diapers at the time. And now she knew everything. Or at least more than she did before. And maybe that made staying in The Closet a better choice–if there was even the slightest chance of being exposed to someone, maybe this would have to be my diaper-wetting sanctuary.

“Did you do it?” she asked, seemingly at random.

“Do what?” I asked, though I had a good idea of what she meant.

“Did you make a pee-pee in your diaper?”

I furrowed my brow, not really caring for that mocking tone she was taking. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I think you should tell me.”

“Why? What makes you think I owe you that?” I didn’t mean to sound a little snippy, but I was craving normalcy–the one thing the day had been missing.

“Well, given how much I already know about your little predicament…”

It sounded like blackmail. Not that I thought that she’d run out the door and start telling my secret to strangers. She didn’t want to talk to anyone in this building that she didn’t have to, and I felt confident that she especially didn’t want to talk to said strangers about my diapers. Still, there was power in her knowledge. Maybe she’d never use it, but she could if she wanted to.

She had power now. Power that felt worth respecting.

I gave her the honesty she wanted: “I’m a little damp. But I didn’t, like, full-on wet…” I paused. I wanted to use the word ‘myself,’ but the phrasing of ‘I didn’t full-on wet myself’ sounded as pathetic as it was.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked. It came off as a cloying tease, but I chose to take it as genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know.”

“But you’re committed?” she asked.

“Committed?”

“You could just, like, go to the bathroom, right? Would she even know?”

I shrugged.

“Right,” she said, smiling. “You like this. You want to be her baby.”

I felt my cheeks burning as I tried to think of the right response. But I had nothing.

“It’s cute, I guess,” she said. “Weird. But cute.”

“Thanks.”

“So? Are you going to do it? Are you going to piss your diaper?” She actually seemed to sound excited by it.

“I guess, yeah. Eventually.”

She didn’t say anything, but there was a look on her face. Something was on the tip of her tongue.

“What?” I asked. “Go on, say whatever it is you want to say.”

“I just…” It was a rare look for her–or rare in my relatively short experience of knowing her. She looked a little hesitant; almost bashful.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I just wanted to see,” she said.

I could barely even process what she said, her words made so little sense to me. “What? You want to see…me…pee?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Yeah, I guess so.”

“What, exactly, is it that you want to see?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Ideally? You’d pull your pants down, pee in your diaper, and I’d…watch?”

“Why would you even want to see that?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me? Look around us. Well, you know, open the door of our fucking closet first and then look around. Cubicles. Offices. Tightass robots wearing ironed shirts and silk ties. The most interesting thing going on in this entire building is happening in your pants. It’s kinda gross. But kind of amazing too. So…yeah. I want to see it.”

There were only two choices for an answer: Yes or no. But, really, what did it matter? She already knew. And what she couldn’t see, she would just imagine anyways.

It didn’t matter that it was diapers. Whatever was striking the right chords for me was fundamentally deeper. It was about control and humiliation, and diapers were just the vessel. And for the same reasons that Ms. Heller had been able to sell me on her desires, I found myself wanting to give in to Lyndie’s request. I wanted her to see me wet my diaper. I wanted that humiliation too.

“Okay,” I said.

Her eyes lit up with surprise. “Really?”

I shrugged. “If you really want to see it. I’ll show you.”

“Yes! Oh my god, this is so cool.”

“Cool?” I laughed. “We have very different ideas of what ‘cool’ is.”

“Years from now, I’m going to tell this story at some party. I’ll talk about the guy whose boss made him piss in a diaper. It’s going to be such a fucking hit.”

“Just…leave my name out of that story?”

“Oh please,” she said, “by that time you’ll have moved into Gabrielle’s house as her little baby-pet. She’ll feed you bottles and keep you chained up in the basement. And you’ll fucking love it.”

It seemed doubtful, but that didn’t sound like the worst fate to have.

“If I’m chained up in the basement at that point, feel free to use my name,” I said.

“Excellent. Now, are you going to show me?”

Neither of us really had any doubt as to what the answer was going to be, though it took me another moment or two to get the words out: “Okay, let’s go.”

She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oh my gosh. This is so fucking crazy. I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

I looked over to the door of The Closet. Though it was closed, and there were no windows looking into our small room, I could just see Anderson or some other guy barging through the door just as I pulled my pants down. I pressed the button on the knob, hearing the satisfying click of the lock. Fingers crossed the lock actually worked.

“Look, this is weird enough as it is,” I said. “Let’s not make this any weirder, okay? I’ll just pull down my pants, do my thing, and then that’s it.”

“What else do you think is going to happen?” she asked. “I doubt I’m going to want to change your diaper or anything like that.”

I sighed and shrugged. “Here we go.”

It was the third time I had pulled my pants down for a woman at work that day, and the second time I had pulled them down for Lyndie. It was almost pathetic how normal this suddenly seemed. I had shown someone my diaper more times than I had done actual work.

“Okay,” she said, crouching down a little to get a better view of my diaper as I stood before her. “So…you’ll tell me when you go?”

“I think you’ll be able to tell,” I said.

I had been feeling more confident about my ability to wet a diaper. I had, after all, done much worse on Ms. Heller’s floor this morning. But standing before Lyndie was something else entirely. She was just as intimidating as Ms. Heller was, but in a completely different way. She wasn’t some powerful executive–she was another student, like me. She was cute. Even kind of charming in her bitter and sarcastic way. I wished we were getting coffee or cocktails together. I wished she was coming by my apartment so we could watch TV together. Instead, she was staring at my stupidly puffy diaper, waiting for me to piss in it.

I wasn’t ready for it to start happening–in fact, I was already prepared to have to concentrate for a few more minutes on getting my stubborn bladder to budge–but I suddenly felt a small trickle. That trickle grew a little heavier, and within seconds it was all just flowing out of me. It was happening, and it was happening right in front of Lyndie’s face. I was so caught up in the feeling of the diaper growing warm and heavy that I had forgotten to say anything to her about it. I couldn’t even remember–was I still supposed to?

“Oh shit,” she said, ensuring that I didn’t need to say anything. “I…I can see it. You’re doing it? You’re doing it! You’re pissing your diaper! Holy fuck.”

Her tone suggested that she was just getting started, but she broke down in hysterical laughter again as I continued to pump more warm liquid into the diaper.

She regained her composure, staring at the bulge between my legs. “Look at it swelling! Holy shit. I just can’t believe I’m watching this right now. A grown man willingly pissing himself? Shit.”

I never thought about humiliation as a turn-on for me before. It was just something I had never been exposed to in that context, so I didn’t know that I wanted it. But Ms. Heller had awoken something in me–and I was curious if it was coincidence or if she knew what she had done. I was only just beginning to understand what humiliation did for me, and…this was but another lesson.

I didn’t even realize what was happening until Lyndie pointed it out. “Clark, oh my god, are you…getting hard in your diaper?”

I had just finished wetting, and with that nominal vacancy in my attention, I shifted my focus to Lyndie’s taunting. ‘A grown man willingly pissing himself?’ was definitely hitting the spot.

“F-fuck,” I stammered, stumbling backwards with my hands over the front of my diaper.

“Jesus, you were, weren’t you? Wow.” She laughed again, shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize,” she said with a small shrug. “It’s funny, but it’s kind of, I dunno, cute?”

“Cute?” If I wasn’t blushing before, I was blushing now.

“Maybe not cute,” she said. “But it’s, like, if you’re going to be made to dress like a baby and pee your pants, you might as well like it.”

“I do,” I said softly.

“Yeah? And what turned on you just now, huh? Just the act of pissing a diaper? The excitement of getting changed later?” Her tone had changed. It was more genuine, but still condescending. I felt like I was a little boy, being asked questions by his teacher.

“I guess…all of that?” I said, pulling my pants back up over the wet diaper. “But…humiliation too.”

“Humiliation because I was here?”

“Yeah.”

“Watching you?”

“Yeah…”

“Teasing you about pissing your diapers like a little baby?”

I became completely flustered at that moment. So much so that the world suddenly seemed a little blurry around me. I quickly tucked my shirt back in and straightened my pants. “I…I have to go.”

“Where are you going, baby?” she cooed sarcastically.

“To get my diaper changed,” I blurted out. I immediately cursed myself for having done that, as this had sent Lyndie into another fit of giggles.

Six

Memo to all employees: By special request from our executive team, we are pleased to announce that new garbage cans have been installed in the common area of each floor. These garbage cans use state-of-the-art scent-sealing technology to ensure that even the worst smelling trash won’t permeate your work space.

—

Upon stumbling out of The Closet, I had to take a moment and collect my thoughts. I was feeling a combination of humiliated, aroused, disgusting, and pathetic–and I didn’t know what to do with any of it.

Behind me, back in our little room, Lyndie was laughing to herself about the show I had just put on for her.

Out of the pan and into the fire. In the distance was the executive hallway, and Ms. Heller’s office. I wondered if she was waiting for me. I wondered what she’d say to me. Should I tell her about Lyndie? How would she react to that?

I waddled forward, feeling the heavily squishing bulk shift between my legs with every step. Step. Squish. Step. Slosh. It was an agonizingly slow and embarrassing walk through the office. I watched the employees, busy at their desks or having adult conversations. And there I was, creeping by in a completely soaked diaper with a stiff cock.

I scrambled towards Ms. Heller’s office. I passed the desk where Daniel used to sit. That could be my seat. I hadn’t even begun to think about that proposition yet, and I certainly didn’t have the bandwidth to start thinking about it now.

With a long deep breath, I knocked on the door to her office. I noted that I couldn’t see inside the room from the hallway, which came as a relief to me.

The door opened, and there was Ms. Heller’s smiling face. Behind her, sitting in front of her desk, was another woman that I did not recognize.

“Ah, Mr. Ashburn, it's a pleasure to see you. Come in.”

I offered a bashful nod towards the stranger as I slipped inside. My diaper suddenly felt three times bigger than it had before–a swollen blob of saturated padding that would be visible from space.

“Neve, this is Clark Ashburn, a recent addition to the team.”

“I don’t think we’ve met,” said the woman. She stood up from the chair, revealing how tall and perfect she looked. With her dark skin and long straight hair, she looked like a goddess. And for as much as I’d never want to be ‘that guy,’ it took just about all my power not to stare at her sizable chest–which seemed barely contained within her blouse. As she approached to shake my hand, I had to actually look up to make eye-contact with her. Standing below her, in my sodden diaper, I had never felt so small before.

“A, uhm, pleasure to meet you,” I said, grasping her hand to shake it. Her grip was firm, and I wondered what she could glean about me from my own meager finger-strength.

“Neve Beaufort is VP of Product Development,” Ms. Heller said. “And a dear friend to me.”

I attempted to read Ms. Heller’s face, hoping that I could catch a signal about whether or not this woman knew anything about our arrangement. Or, if she would learn about it eventually. As always, I found her nearly impossible to read.

“And what do you do here, Clark?” asked Ms. Beaufort. What was that accent? French, I suspected. It was incredibly charming.

The truth felt so hilariously insignificant, but I said it anyway: “I’m just an intern.”

“Just?” said Ms. Heller. “No need to be modest. You may be an intern, but his hard work has already caught my attention. I already have him selected to work on some special projects for me.”

“Special projects, hmm?” asked Ms. Beaufort. I couldn’t get a good feel for whether or not that was a code between the two women. “That’s wonderful. I love to see the next generation of leadership taking root.”

“I…can go,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We were just chit-chatting. Girl talk,” Ms. Beaufort said, winking at me. “But I’ll leave you two to it.”

Ms. Heller shot me a naughty look. I couldn’t read her mind, but I could take an educated guess. “Should I ask her to stay?”

Instead: “It was good to see you, Neve. I still owe you a glass of wine, yes? Let’s make that happen soon.”

“That would be perfect,” Ms. Beaufort said. She turned, looking down at me again as she smiled. “And you, Clark, it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see big things from you soon.”

Big things like my big fat diaper?

She left the office, and it was once more just myself and Ms. Heller. For a moment, she had nothing to say. She just gazed upon me with a satisfied smirk.

Finally: “I was expecting you to be back sooner.”

“R-really?”

She shrugged. “Give it time, I suppose. Did I tell you about Hillary already?”

The name rang a bell, and with a little bit of quick digging in my recent memories I landed on her name. It had been the first time I met Ms. Heller. She was another assistant, or someone in a position similar to mine. Another plaything.

“Yes,” I said.

“In our prime together, she’d need multiple diaper changes a day–at least four. But now that I think back on it, it took us a while to get to that point. She, too, would hold onto her bladder–and her bowels–far longer than she should’ve. Maybe it’s something you’ll learn in time, Clark. But I implore you to use your diaper more often. As often as you need to. I’ll always be here, and I’ll always have a fresh diaper ready for you. There’s no reason to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll work on that, I guess,” I said.

“But I suppose you came by because you need a diaper change now?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful,” she said, grinning. “And what sort of present did you bring Mommy this afternoon?”

“Uhm…well, I just wet myself.”

“Just,” she said. “You keep saying just. You are not just an intern. You didn’t just wet your diaper. What you’ve done is you’ve committed. You’ve further embraced the position I’ve given you. You’ve returned to me yet again, assuring me that you are as interested in taking on this role as I am in you having it to begin with. Say it again, and don’t let it sound like it has diminished importance.”

I took a deep breath as I thought about her words. I could understand why she was in the position she was, talking like that. “I wet my diaper again.” I realized I forgot an important detail, and I said it again: “I wet my diaper again, for you. Mommy.”

“What a good boy you are. Why don’t you lie down on the ground again. I’ll fetch a new diaper.”

I did as she asked, lowering myself down to her carpet once more. Sitting on the ground in my wet diaper was a new experience. I felt the soggy padding squish beneath me, forcing the wetness to spread into new places. I was sitting somewhere in the vicinity of where I had been that morning. The wet spot I had created on the floor–probably somewhere beneath where I sat at that moment–had probably dried not that long ago.

“If this is going to stick–if you’re committed to this,” she said, “I’d consider some upgrades to this arrangement. At the very least, a changing pad that I could roll out onto the floor. Though I wonder if I could get away with asking for a bigger office. Maybe convert part of it into a nursery?”

The thought of a ‘secret nursery’ in this vast industrial complex sounded as unlikely as it did overwhelmingly humiliating.

I began to open my mouth to respond, but she stopped me. “Where’s your pacifier?”

“In, uh, my pocket?”

“Put it where it belongs,” she said.

I fished it out of my pocket and slid it into my mouth. It was surreal to think that the last person who held this was Lyndie. I had no doubt that Ms. Heller would love that story.

She pulled off my shoes and tossed them aside before pulling my pants off entirely.

“Do you like these?” she asked, holding up my gray boxer-briefs. I felt my face turn crimson as I watched my undergarments dangle from her fingers above me.

I shrugged.

“I won’t pretend that I understand boy’s underpants. These, in particular, seem kind of silly to me. Tighty-whities, I suppose, have a boyish quality to them, so I can understand men wanting to get away from them. But are these that much different? Too cool for briefs, yet not cool enough for boxers?”

I didn’t really have a response to that, not that I should be talking while suckling the pacifier anyways. She was probably right–true boxer shorts always seemed strangely intimidating to me. All that…freedom. I wondered if this helped to build a stronger case for my demotion back to diapers.

I wanted to ask questions about Hillary. I wondered what that was like. I wondered where Hillary was now, and how she felt about it in hindsight. In just two days of diapers, I felt like I had experienced years worth of surreal adventures. What had she endured? What did that look like?

“There’s Little Clark again,” she said, playfully poking at my stiff member after having opened the diaper up. It hadn’t lost its firmness since growing in front of Lyndie’s face–a terrifying moment that I still didn’t know how to address once I returned to The Closet. “I’m not going to let you make your boyish little mess this time, however.”

I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed to hear that. It had been incredibly shameful to pleasure myself in front of her–or to have her pleasure me through the diaper. But it had also been weirdly thrilling in a way that nothing else in recent memory had been.

“I know I’ve hinted at it previously, Clark, but perhaps I should say aloud what I’m thinking, regarding your forever-stiff boyhood.”

I drew in a deep breath, bracing myself for what she’d reveal to me now. I tried to predict it, but I had no idea where to even start.

“They make these things,” she said. “Little cages? Chastity? I feel it would be perfect for you.”

I vaguely knew what she spoke of. It was one of those things that I’d unintentionally stumble across on the internet from time to time, usually while tumbling down some strange cyber rabbit hole. My only thought on the matter, previous to now, had been: Why would you do that to yourself? But I immediately got where she was going with this. As with all other things in her game thus far, it was about control. She had claimed control over my bodily functions with the diapers. And now, she proposed controlling my ability to just get off.

“What do you think?” she asked, as she ran damp wipes across my skin.

I let the pacifier roll out of my mouth. “H-how would that work? I get…locked up? And then I just don’t touch myself anymore?”

“There’d be a key, of course. I’d hold onto it. And I’m not a monster. I’d let you out when I felt you had earned it. And you’re a good boy. I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to earn those opportunities.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Don’t you already have a lot to think about?”

It shouldn’t have been funny, but it was. I laughed as I stared up at the ceiling, taking in the ever-growing absurdity.

“I’m just giving you options. There’s lots of options, you know.”

At that moment, she guided the moist baby wipe through my ass cheeks, gently pressing on my hole with her finger. This sensation–entirely new to me–sent strange ripples through my body. I couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it seemed adjacent to pleasure.

“Lots of options,” she said again.

For the first time, the words seemed to roll from my mouth without any hesitation or additional thought: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Mmm,” she moaned. “You’re such a smart little boy. A quick learner.”

Her words, cooed to me in that pseudo-babytalk that I was becoming very fond of, made me giddy and I nodded back towards her.

“I have some time,” she said, glancing at her smartwatch. “I could give you something else to taste, besides your pacifier.”

Ever-naive and two steps behind, I foolishly asked: “Like what?”

She laughed. “Have you had pussy before? I’ve prepared some for you.”

My eyes widened and I felt my mouth drop open. “I…well, uhm…”

“Have you ever eaten someone out before, baby?”

“N-no…”

“It’s probably best that you learn now, then. I’ll require a lot of that. Be a good boy and stay there. I’ll come to you.”

She stood again, towering above me. I was still naked from the waist down, though that didn’t seem to matter to her. She slid her black slacks down her legs, exposing the black panties underneath. Twice today, I saw a woman’s panties. Twice today, I saw the panties of a woman I worked with–at work. She worked them down her legs next, revealing her radiating womanhood to me.

I wasn’t a virgin, though my sexual history was embarassingly brief and unexciting. But I had seen pictures. Videos. I had seen enough, I felt, to feel enough authority to know that she looked amazing.

“I’m wet,” she said, as she kneeled down over top of me. She slowly brought her pelvis towards my face. “I’ve been wet all day, really. Thinking about you. Thinking about you wetting your diaper for me. Making that dreadful little mess you pushed into it this morning. I’m in all these meetings and calls today, and I’ve just been wet through all of that–thinking about the next time I get to change your dirty diapers.”

I wanted to say something–acknowledge what she was admitting somehow. “I…”

She put a finger to my lips. “You don’t have to say anything. Eat me out,” she said. “Start learning.”

I’m not even given the opportunity to respond as she lowers herself on my face. Facesitting, I think–yet another thing I’ve seen, but never thought would be an experience of my own.

She wasn’t lying–she was wet. Soaked, actually, and her juices cascaded over my face. I hesitantly reached my tongue up from my mouth and into her. I wasn’t scared of the act, so much as I was afraid of letting her down. But I could hear her voice in my head: Start learning. And so I began to explore her.

The taste was unlike anything I had ever experienced, nor was it what I had expected. It’d be hard to put into words. Bold, perhaps. An overwhelmingly bold taste–a sensation that was every bit as powerful and demanding of attention as she was.

And, as it turned out, I had a lot less to do than I thought–she seemed perfectly fine with grinding herself against my face. I did what I could, searching with my tongue for the sweet spot that would add some extra volume to her moans.

“You’re…close,” she moaned down to me. “So close.”

Was I close? I had sincere doubts that I was doing the bulk of the heavy lifting.

“There,” she said. “There… Right there.”

The tenseness that she had in her body suddenly dissipated, and she seemed to melt over top of me. My face was soaked, while my cock throbbed somewhere out of sight.

We stayed in that position for a few minutes in silence. While I wanted to give her all the time she needed, I didn’t mind the position I was stuck in either–my face still lodged beneath her.

“Let’s get you into a new diaper,” she finally said.

She slid off from me and slowly brought herself to her feet again. She grabbed a baby wipe from the still-open package, guiding it between her own legs.

“In the future, I’d rather you do this for me,” she said. “But today has likely been exciting enough.”

I nodded. I would’ve done it if she had asked. I probably would’ve done anything if she had asked.

She took her time in collecting herself. She slowly stepped into her panties, before pulling them up her slender legs–seemingly positioning herself at the perfect angle to my eyes so I could take in the whole experience. She followed that up with her tight black pants, and finally, slipped her feet into her black heels again.

“Your turn,” she announced, as she picked up the pacifier and slipped it back into my mouth.

She was between my legs again, on her knees, slipping the unfolded fresh diaper beneath me. Out came the baby powder once more. I knew better than to protest. This was how this was going to be from now on. I was going to smell like a baby. I was going to be a baby.

“All done,” she said as she stretched the last of the diaper’s tapes into place. “You’re a free baby.”

As I climbed to my feet, I dropped the pacifier back into my hands. It seemed like there was only one thing to say: “Thank you.”

She smiled–the most genuine smile I had seen from her yet. There was no sinister intent nor condescending teasing to it. “Are you happy with how today went?”

It was a far more complicated question than she knew. The earlier encounter with Lyndie was just the start of something entirely different than what I started with Ms. Heller. Connected, but different.

“I think so,” I said. It was an honest answer. I had no true regrets, nor did I harbor any resentment. It all just was and I needed time and space to think about what it all actually meant to me.

“It’s close enough to the end of the day,” she said. “Why don’t you just leave?”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged. “Who would even know?”

I laughed and nodded. “Thank you.” It might have sounded like I was thanking her for excusing me early, but it was just residual gratitude for the experiences I had in her office.

“Report to my office first thing tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Yes…Mommy.” I wanted it to sound natural, but the words still felt alien to me. I’d need to work on that.

“Don’t wear the same diaper into my office tomorrow morning,” she said. “That’s how you’re going to get a diaper rash.”

Just the very thought of having something called ‘diaper rash’ at my age felt debilitatingly embarrassing. “But…”

“Right, so you’ll need an extra diaper to take home with you, yes? Maybe a few.”

I wanted to ask her about just how many diapers she had stowed away in this office, but I bit my tongue. She knew what she was doing, and I trusted that she knew what she needed on hand far better than I did.

She returned to her cabinet of baby supplies, pulling out a small stack of diapers–it looked to be three or four. She walked back to me, pushing them into my hands.

“It doesn’t matter to me how quickly you go through these,” she said. “There’s plenty more where these came from. Once you leave this building, feel free to wear as few or as many as you see fit.”

“Yes, uh, Mommy.”

“Though if you do end up wearing them more at home, might I suggest getting yourself some other supplies? You’ll need wipes and baby powder. Maybe some rash cream, just in case.”

I nodded.

“Alright then, so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Y-yes,” I said, tripping over my words. “But…”

“I want you to think about some of the things I’ve offered to you today,” she said, seemingly unaware of my efforts to get one last question in. “Chastity. The assistant position. Oh, and you should really think about just using your diaper more often. I shouldn’t have to make you sit on my floor every morning until you fill your diaper.”

“Okay, yes, but…”

“Yes?”

“I…I can’t just carry this stack of diapers through the office,” I said, glancing down at the pile of thick padding.

“Why not?” her lips curled into an amused smile.

“People will see…”

“Shouldn’t they? Shouldn't they know that you’re going to be the office baby from now on? I think you should march through these halls proudly with your diapers in front of you. The sooner you acclimate everyone to seeing you with diapers, the sooner people will understand why you’ll occasionally smell like you need a diaper change, don’t you think?”

My mouth dropped open, and I almost released the diapers from my grip. This felt so far beyond anything that we had talked about previously. “R-really? You think…I should…”

She began to laugh and she shook her head. “I’m teasing you, Baby. Oh, gosh, you should have seen the look on your face!”

My face felt like it was on fire and I had to catch my breath as my body began to function again.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, thank god. I almost had a heart attack there.”

She laughed again, patting me on the back. “Let me get you a bag for those. It’s far too soon to expose you as a baby to the entire office.”

I looked at her, again, with a terrified expression painted on my face.

She winked playfully, and I had no idea what that meant.

Seven

From: Samantha Hayden <st.hayden12@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Monday, March 21 at 5:45 PM

To: Clark Ashburn <cashburn@xxxxxxxxx>

Subject: Internship Check-In

Good afternoon Clark,

I wanted to check-in regarding your internship. Are you enjoying this experience? Do you have any questions. As your academic advisor on campus, it’s my job to make sure all your needs are being met. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me for any reason.

I actually received an email today from Ms. Gabrielle Heller. She thanked us for matching you with her company and has stated that you’ve already proven yourself to be an asset to the team. I’m incredibly proud of you, and I thought you should know!

Keep in touch.

Samantha Hayden

Academic Advisor, Portsburg University

—

Shortly after stepping off the train in my neighborhood, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. I walked straight to the baby aisle, looking over the possibilities. A young woman pushed an infant in a stroller nearby, grabbing some diapers and wipes from the shelves. She seemed to have no reaction to my presence, but seeing her–an actual parent of a baby–made me feel strange.

I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong, but I wondered what her reaction would’ve been if I had told her the truth. “Hi, I’m shopping for baby supplies–for me–because my boss is making me use diapers.” Then I’d follow it up by revealing that I was wearing a diaper as I spoke to her.

But I had a hard enough time approaching women in the first place, so there were no worries about me saying something so stupid to a stranger. Though if Ms. Heller was there, I could only imagine her encouraging further interaction.

I tried not to think too much about the extra diapers that Ms. Heller had given me. They were in my messenger bag, slung over my shoulder while in the store. But there was no getting around it, their presence remained on my mind.

I started grabbing the obvious things–the items she had suggested. A large package of baby wipes, thinking it’d probably be best to have a lot of those around. A container of baby powder. I held a tube of ointment for diaper rash in my hands, debating on whether or not I’d need something like this. I opted to add it to my basket–it seemed like the sort of thing that was better to have on hand than not.

I scanned the aisle, looking for anything else that looked essential. Or, at least, interesting or curious.

I spotted diaper pail liners, which seemed interesting. It implied the need for a diaper pail. Should I have a diaper pail? I hadn’t thought much about disposing of diapers at home, but I realized that I probably should. Used diapers, I had quickly learned, could smell. And I didn’t live alone. A good diaper disposal system was preferable to having to explain to my roommate that I was now wearing diapers. I made a mental note to look into a diaper pail later.

Baby shampoo? Thrillingly humiliating in concept, but I’d pass on that for now. Baby lotion? I didn’t really quite know what its purpose was, but I liked the idea of it. I added it to the basket. Baby bottles? I was curious, and added one to the basket. Another pacifier featuring a cartoonish plastic lion? Added it to the basket. Jars of baby food? Sounded disgusting but…maybe that was fun in itself? A few jars were added to the basket.

At the cashier, a feeling of shame washed over me as I placed the items on the conveyor belt. But I wasn’t doing anything wrong–I was just buying things. The cashier knew absolutely nothing about what I was doing with my life, nor did they care. I was the only one attaching any sort of terror to the moment. I’d need to get used to that.

I left the store without incident. I was mostly pleased at this, but a small part of me had hoped for a little more chaos. And while I wasn’t sure what I wanted from ‘chaos,’ I had spent the rest of my walk home considering what could’ve been. For example, the cashier looking down at my haul before looking back up at me. “Is this all for you? Are you the baby?” Highly unlikely, but exciting. Or, perhaps being called out by the young mother in the baby aisle. “Do you even have a baby, or are you going to be the one with diaper rash?”

The excitement of those thoughts troubled me a little bit. It felt indicative of what my future could be–a slave to the growing need for humiliation. How far would I end up going for Ms. Heller?

I tried to imagine the worst case scenario. What was the most humiliating thing that she could possibly do to me? I imagined being marched out in front of the entire company in just a diaper. A full diaper. She stood behind me, waving her hand in front of her face to signal to everyone that I had, in fact, done something dreadful.

Yes, that seemed good. And then she’d change my diaper right there. And tease me with the key to my cage, dangling it above my face. Maybe she’d toss them into the crowd, and I’d have to find out who now controlled access to my shrunken cock.

I felt myself growing hard in my pants. In my diaper. I was supposed to be frightening myself. I was supposed to be seeing the worst case scenario and convincing myself that I didn’t want to go down that path. Yet my throbbing manhood–boyhood, as it was referred to earlier–suggested that this was something I might actually strive for.

“You should’ve told me that you were going to the store,” said Evan as I entered our apartment. My roommate was perpetually home, on account of not only taking his remaining courses online, but having one of those work-from-home jobs that I used to wish I had. Back before I discovered the joy of humiliation in the workplace.

“Oh, uh, this?” I asked, looking down at the shopping bag hanging from my hands. “Shit, yeah. Sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “No worries. Did you get anything good?”

Yes, as a matter of fact. All sorts of baby supplies.

“Just a few…things for myself,” I said.

“I really ought to go to the store sometime,” he said, slowly turning his attention back to the TV.

That was an incredible understatement. He didn’t just need to go to the store, he needed to get outside, period. The man never left the apartment. Ever. Some days I assumed it was just a pervasive weirdness. Others I wondered if it was some form of agoraphobia that he should seek a therapist for.

It usually didn’t actually bother me–we were rarely lacking for our own personal space. But the sudden introduction of diapers in my life had me worried about the prospect of Evan’s constant presence. Even when he was in his bedroom, and I was in mine, there’d be crinkling. Smells. The last thing I wanted was him questioning why the whole apartment smelled like baby powder. Or worse.

“How’s the internship?” he asked, still looking forward at the television.

Yet another question I couldn’t give an actual answer to. “My boss wants to put me in chastity so that I can’t even get off when I piss my diaper for her.”

“Same old, same old,” I said instead. But his question did remind me of one of the many things I needed to think about–Ms. Heller’s job offer. “Actually, let me run something by you.”

“Yeah? Alright.”

“My, uh, boss has offered me a position. Like, an actual job–not an internship.”

“Oh yeah?” He nodded, seemingly impressed. “You must be doing something right, yeah?”

“Well…it’s not a glamorous position. I’d be my boss’s assistant.”

“Like a secretary?”

“Not like a receptionist, no. Well, maybe a little bit. More of an assistant.”

Diaper-wearing plaything.

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’s full-time.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, shrugging.

“It’s a…commitment. I wouldn’t have the internship anymore.”

“Would you need it?”

It was a fair question. “I guess not. But I’d have to rearrange some of my classes and…”

“It’s a full time job with a big company like that?” he asked, shaking his head. “I think you have to. You want to get your foot in the door, you know?”

He was right. I had come to the same conclusions earlier myself, but it felt good to have it confirmed by someone else.

“Well, I’ve got some, uh, stuff to do,” I said, gesturing towards my room. “I’ll see you later.”

He did his patented Evan finger-guns towards me, his nonverbal way of communicating either ‘hello’ or goodbye.’

It was just me again. Me and my diaper. And my new baby supplies. I laid out all of my new purchases on the bed so that I could look them over. Then, I took the stack of diapers from my messenger bag and laid them out on the bed too. There it all was–my infantile armory.

I picked up the baby powder, turning the cap to open it. I took a big whiff of the faint white cloud that poofed out from the tiny openings. Heavenly. It reminded me of being in Ms. Heller’s office again, lying on my back as she coated me with it just before sealing me into a new diaper.

I missed her.

It was a weird thought. For a moment, it almost felt alien–as if someone else had planted that thought into my subconscious. My first reaction was to brush that feeling aside, finding it disingenuous. Yet, I could still feel that longing inside of me. As humiliating as her game was, and as easy as it was to say that she was just using me for her own means, she still managed to make me feel…noticed. Wanted.

Yeah, I missed her. I missed Mommy.

I held one of the jars of baby food in my hands. Organic sweet potato, apple, carrot, and cinnamon. That was all one flavor, in one jar. I couldn’t even imagine all those flavors together at once, and I found it hard to believe that an actual baby had ever craved such a combination. It sounded like the result of an accident at the baby food factory. But, sure, I’d try it.

First, of course, I’d need to get into Baby Mode. I took off all my clothes, piling them up on the end of the bed to deal with later. I was only in my diaper now. I had wet myself–a tiny little puddle, really–while walking between the store and the apartment. The diaper, so thick and with so much absorbent padding between my legs, showed barely any sign of having been used.

I can fix that. I stood still, and within a few moments, I was wetting the diaper. Once more, the garment grew heavier on me as it swelled and sagged between my legs. That felt so much better. That felt like the sort of thing a baby was supposed to do before eating his jarred baby food.

I sat down on the ground, feeling the soggy diaper crinkle and squish beneath me as I opened the jar with a satisfying POP. I realized that I didn’t bring any sort of spoon or utensil with me. But it was a complete non-issue. I was leaning on my more basic instincts–thinking like a baby, I told myself–and knew the solution was to simply dip my fingers into the jar.

The burnt sienna glop stuck to my fingers and I led them back to my mouth where I licked them clean. The food tasted vaguely of all the ingredients listed on the label, yet none of them seemed especially strong or overpowering. It just tasted kind of bland. Wet cardboard with a subtle sweetness. But this was likely for the best. I liked that it didn’t taste like anything I recognized, and I liked that it didn’t taste horrible. It was for babies, like me.

I felt that longing for Ms. Heller again. Mommy. I wished she could see this. I wish I could tell her what I was doing right now. I grabbed my phone and quickly snapped a few quick selfies. Reviewing them, I could see that my fingers were still stained orange. Traces of orange goo were splattered around the edges of my lips.

“I need a bib.”

The feeling of the diaper’s thickened padding under me was stimulating in all the right places. I rocked my body back and forth on the diaper. Looking towards the bed, I thought of the bottle of baby lotion. I wasn’t sure what the intended purpose of it was, but I knew what I could use it for. While I still could, that was. Someday soon, I might be under lock and key.

The lotion smelled much like the baby powder did. I found it euphoric. I tilted the bottle towards my palm, but quickly changed course. I had a better idea that I wanted to try. I pulled open the front of my diaper and squirted a stream of lotion directly into it instead. When I let the waistband return to its place, the cool lotion was trapped between my skin and the saturated padding, with my stiffening member stuck between them.

Despite not having ever done anything like this before, I had a good idea of what I wanted to do. I laid myself out flat on the ground before flipping over to my belly. And then, with my lotioned diaper pressed against the carpet, I began humping the ground. I was grinding against the diaper, slicked by the combination of the infantile lotion and my own wetness. That was it–that was the shameful feeling I wanted. Needed.

“Mommy,” I pleaded into the air with nobody to hear me. “Mommy, look at me… Look at what I’m doing. I wet my diaper! I’m humping my diaper! Am I a good boy?” The words stuck in my brain and I began to sound like a broken record, timing each word with another thrust into the slippery diaper. “Am. I. A. Good. Boy. Mommy? Please? Mommy?”

My stamina didn’t stand a chance, and I messily erupted into the already sticky diaper. I would stay like that for a few minutes–collapsed face down on the floor.

There was a light knock on the door. “Clark?”

I slowly rolled over and sat up. It was rare that Evan knocked on my door for any reason. “Y-yeah?”

“Hey…if it’s none of my business, just let me know. But... Are you okay in there?”

My heart pounded as I looked down at my diaper. Still plump and soaked. Remnants of white goop dripped down my belly, back into the diaper.

“Yeah, I’m…good.”

“Alright,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure what I was hearing and…well, nevermind. I’ll leave you be.”

I could hear his footsteps walking away from the door. I sighed and shook my head. What the hell had he just heard? The temptation was strong to just hurl myself out the window in embarrassment. I had even made a point to tell myself to be careful with Evan’s omnipresence in the apartment, yet I just had to go and get carried away while pleasuring myself in my diaper.

I didn’t have to confront him now, but I’d have to eventually. Maybe I could stay in my room for a few more years first. Maybe he’d forget by the time I emerged.

Fuck.

It was like a curse. Or, perhaps, I was really bad at being discreet and subtle about these things. First Lyndie and now Evan? Was my mother going to be next? Was she going to call in a minute and complain that I didn’t think of her first if I needed a diaper change?

I took a deep breath. And then another. Maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Maybe he only thought he heard something. I’d just walk out of the room and be ready to say that anything he thought he heard was actually something else. As far as I knew–he knew nothing and it was only going to stay that way.

I almost pulled my pants on over the diaper, but quickly thought better of it. There was no way that I could waddle out in this destroyed thing without him knowing. While standing, I tore away the tapes and let it fall to the ground with a heavy SPLAT–a humiliating sound in itself.

“Hey,” I said, finally emerging from my room–fully dressed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bug you before,” he said, twisting to face me from the living room couch. “I just…was worried about you for a moment and wanted to be sure you were okay.”

“Totally fine,” I said, forcing a fake laugh as I attempted to play it off like everything was fine.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. He seemed a little apprehensive–the look of someone who had questions but was too afraid to ask them.

I should’ve let it go. There was absolutely no reason to continue the conversation. And yet, my curiosity had overpowered my logic.

“What do you think you heard?”

“Oh. It…it doesn’t matter.”

Leave it alone. Don’t keep poking.

“I’m just curious,” I said, digging deeper.

“Well…you were, uhm, shouting about…Mommy? Something about, uh, a diaper?”

I had poked way too much, and as expected, it had disastrous results.

“Shouting? I was…shouting?”

He grimaced and shrugged again. “Well, you weren’t quiet about it.”

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

“It’s none of my business,” he said, “but is that something you’re, like, into?”

Did he really expect me to answer that question? Or maybe the real question was whether or not I was going to allow myself to answer that. Because so far, I seemed to be my own worst enemy.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have been so loud.”

Evan sniffed at the air. I knew what he was smelling, because it was the same scent in my nose. The baby lotion–and the quantity of it that I had squirted into the diaper earlier–had given me a very strong infantile scent.

“Sorry,” I said again. “That scent is, uh, strong.”

He shrugged. “I don’t hate it? But I suppose I’m wondering if I should be, like, expecting to smell that more often?”

I sighed, weighing all options of how I could respond. I could offer a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I could run away and avoid answering. Or, maybe, I could tell him everything. Or just enough. Maybe that’d be liberating for me. I could tell him what to expect. Baby powder. Diapers. Dirty diapers. Did I owe him that truth? Would I want to know if he had a similar weird shift in his lifestyle?

“Y-yeah,” I said. “Probably.” I hoped that answer was sufficient.

He chuckled softly to himself before shrugging. “Alright.”

I wished he had said more. He certainly wasn’t obligated to, and I could understand why he didn’t. But I had just given him a lot of information about myself and I knew next to nothing about how he actually felt about it.

Don’t go poking for answers again. This time I listened to myself. If he absolutely hated it, hopefully he would have said as much. The best I could do was to assume it wasn’t a problem for him until he said it was.

I quickly retreated back to my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Nothing sounded better than burying my head under a pillow until the memory of all the mistakes I had made dissipated.

And I’d get to that. But first, I needed to put another diaper on.

Eight

Stepping into The Closet the next morning, Lyndie already had a wide, goofy, grin on her face. Her eyes were immediately fixated on my pants.

“Looking for something?” I asked.

“You know what I’m looking for. And I think I see it.”

I tossed my shoulder bag down, awkwardly bending my body to see if I could find an angle in which my diaper was visible through my pants. I had spent way too much time staring at the mirror in my room that morning for someone to tell me now that they could see my diaper.

“R-really?”

She laughed. “I’m kidding. I don’t think I actually see anything. But I’m enjoying how easy it is to get you all riled up.”

I sighed. “I guess I’m just being paranoid.”

“But you are wearing a diaper, right?”

There was something about hearing Lyndie say that word that made me uncomfortable. It was not only a reminder of the fact that I was wearing a diaper in the office, but that I had exposed myself–perhaps literally and figuratively–to people I shouldn’t have.

I mouthed the word “yes,” while nodding.

“And so what’s the schedule here?” she asked. “Do you have to report to her for your morning diaper change?”

I shrugged. “I…I guess so.”

“I’d love to be a fly on the wall in her office,” she said, chuckling to herself as she shook her head.

“You want to see me getting changed?”

“Wouldn’t you if you knew that I was getting my diaper changed by the company’s CEO?”

I got the point she was making, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine that scenario. Maybe my reality was far too surreal to allow for me to step back and imagine it happening to someone else.

“Sure,” I said, opting for the answer that felt least likely to stir up additional conversation.

“You just want to see me nekkid.”

“I…I do not…”

She laughed again. “I’m teasing.” She might have winked. Or maybe she just blinked. Maybe I just saw what I wanted to see.

I wouldn’t have minded seeing Lyndie naked, and I suspected that she could’ve guessed as much herself.

I tried my hardest to shrug off her teasing, even if the combination of her jokes at my expense and her referencing of my diapers were having a little bit of a stiffening effect on my cock. Before Ms. Heller came along and claimed all of my thoughts for herself, a decent percentage of my worktime-consciousness had been consumed by daydreams of Lyndie. It was the one-two-punch of being both cute and being the only female peer I had in my life. And we were left to our own devices in a small room for 5 days of the week.

“Well,” Lyndie said. “Are you going to go and get your diaper checked by Mommy?” Her voice was rich with a saccharine tone that was hard to translate as being either sarcastic or mocking. Both? Neither?

“I guess I’ll see you later,” I said.

“Have fun.”

No sooner than I had stepped out from The Closet and onto the office floor, ‘Anderson’ had revealed himself, strutting out from around the corner and almost running me over.

“Well well well,” he said, a cocky smile on his face. “Where are you off to?”

It was odd that he cared at all, considering that he almost always ignored us except for when he needed something.

“Just going to a, uh, meeting.” It was the truth, in a way.

“A meeting?” He laughed. “You’re funny, kid. But what kind of meeting does an intern need to be at?”

I stared ahead at him, really trying to get a good read on him. For the first time, I felt like I could see him for who he really was. Whereas in the past I had seen him as just another tie-wearing part of the corporate ladder that I was at the very bottom of, I could see that he had just as little clout around the office as I did. The classic school bully–picking on kids smaller than him because anyone else wouldn’t give him the time of day.

With a semi-hard cock inside of a diaper, I wasn’t about to claim that I had any clout of my own. But I had a very powerful ally now. A powerful Mommy. Suddenly, Anderson meant absolutely nothing to me.

“I’m meeting with Gabrielle Heller,” I said.

He laughed. I was sure that he did find some genuine humor in what I said, but he exaggerated that, kicking his head back and letting out a throaty “Ha!”

“You’re a comedian too, eh?” he said. “You’re just full of surprises. Look, I have some stuff that needs to get filed and I was hoping that you and the other intern-chick could…”

“Actually, I should get going,” I said. “I don’t want to be late.”

He tilted his head, looking a little confused. Maybe he didn’t believe I was meeting with Ms. Heller, but he seemed to believe that I actually had somewhere to be. And maybe I was just speculating, or again seeing what I wanted to, but I swore that I sensed some jealousy in his expression. I, the lowly intern, had someplace to be. And he just had a menial job to hand off–likely one that was just pushed on him in the first place.

I walked past him, and deeper into the office labyrinth. Anderson’s presence behind me faded until it dissipated.

The ritual of progressing across the office floor to Ms. Heller’s office was one that I enjoyed more every time I did it. I was excited to see her. I was excited to feel her hands on me. Excited for her to check my diaper.

But when I reached her office, I found that the lights were off and she wasn’t in there.

“I think she’s in a meeting right now,” said a soft feminine voice from behind me.

I turned around, spotting a young woman I had never seen before. She looked no older than I or Lyndie; though as far as I knew, there were no other interns.

“Oh,” I said. “Do you…know when she’ll be back?”

“She’s in a meeting with my boss,” she said. “It could be another half hour or so.”

“I’ll just come back later,” I said, sheepishly shrugging. I didn’t know who she was, but it didn’t matter to me either. The less contact I had with people while waddling about in a diaper, the better.

“Do you work here?” she asked.

Dammit. No further questions, please. “Well…I’m an intern,” I said.

“Oh. And you had to see…Ms. Heller?”

A fair question. She had the same surprised look on her face I thought I saw on Anderson minutes before.

“Well, uhm…” I tried to think of a good, non-diaper related, reason why a lowly intern was going to meet with the company’s CEO. “It’s part of the program I’m in for school. I get to meet with Ms. Heller too.”

“Oh,” the young woman said, not sounding entirely convinced.

I should’ve just turned and walked away, but I felt stuck in place by some sort of social contract that forced me to pretend that I cared who she was.

“I’m Clark,” I said, holding my hand out towards her.

“Ava,” she said, shaking it.

“Who is your boss?” I asked.

“Neve Beaufort,” she replied. “VP of…”

“...Product Development,” I said, finishing her sentence.

“You know her?”

“We’ve met,” I said, recalling the other morning when I had walked into Ms. Heller’s office while Ms. Beaufort was there.

Ava ran her fingers through her long brown hair that cascaded down the left side of her face and over her cardigan. I would never claim to be an expert judge of character based on one’s looks, but everything about Ava’s tone and body language suggested that she was more like me than she was like Lyndie. Soft spoken and introverted.

“Are you Ms. Heller’s new assistant?” asked Ava. “I heard she was getting one.”

“I, well…” I nervously scratched my head, unsure how to answer. “The job was offered to me, yes. I haven’t accepted it yet.”

She bit her lower lip and glanced over her shoulder, looking to see who else might be around. Deciding the coast was clear, she leaned in a little closer to me: “Diapers?”

It was the last thing I had ever expected this complete stranger to say to me. My vision got blurry and I could hear a piercing ringing in my ears as I felt paralysis grip my body. How was this possible? Was I cursed to have every single person I came in contact with learn of my diapers?

“How did you know?” I ask.

She let out a long sigh. I didn’t quite get her reaction at first, but it slowly dawned on me what that sound was. Relief.

“Me too,” she said.

“Wait, what?”

“Neve. Ms. Beaufort? She, uhm, keeps me in…them.”

I had no idea what to say. I just shook my head in disbelief.

“Sometimes it’s hard to know who is involved and who isn’t,” she continued.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.

“The execs here. Well…not all of them. But some, I think. They all do it. They all have their own…babies. Or, playthings of some variety. Pets. I’m Ms. Beaufort’s. And you belong to Ms. Heller, yes?”

I nodded. The words ‘belong to’ felt awkward, though they weren’t wrong.

“So you do wear a diaper?” Ava asked.

“Y-yes. And you?”

She nodded, her cheeks glowing pink.

Neither of us said anything for a few moments. I couldn’t speak for her, but I was just lost on what to say next. Did we talk about how we ended up in the strange position we were in? Did I confess that I actually liked it and hoped that she felt the same way?

“This is all very new to me,” I finally said.

“It’s a lot,” she said, nodding. “We could talk sometime.”

“Yeah. That might be really good.”

“Not here,” she said.

“Right. Okay, how should I reach you later so that we can…”

“Look me up in the inter-office directory. Ava Barten. Just shoot me an email with your cell number, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding eagerly. “Of course.”

“Alright, I should get back to work,” she said. “But I hope to hear from you soon.”

“You will,” I said. “I promise.”

We split off in our separate paths, and I made a hasty retreat back towards The Closet. My mind was buzzing with this revelation. I was not alone. There was at least one other ‘office-baby.’ And, from the sound of it, perhaps even more. How did this even happen? How did it start? Would I have ever found out if it wasn’t for running into Ava? Was Ava in a diaper when I met her? Did she know that I was in a diaper?

I felt exhausted by the time I reached the door to my small shared office. All these questions and no answers.

My diaper was wet. I was vaguely aware of this–it wasn’t like I had lost control of my bladder or anything. But I couldn’t quite place the moment that I had wet myself. Somewhere in the last few minutes, I had to go and I had justified just letting it out into my diaper. It had been such an automatic process that it was almost scary to me.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Lyndie said as I shuffled into The Closet, closing the door behind me.

“It’s been a wild morning,” I replied.

“Yeah? Gabrielle making you do even more wacky things for her amusement now? Let me guess. She stuck a hand up your ass and made you her puppet?”

“W-what? No. I didn’t even get to see her. She was in a meeting.”

“Okay,” Lyndie said with a shrug. “So why do you look so pale then?”

“I’m not alone.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Like…the diapers? The baby stuff? I’m not the only one.”

Her eyes grew large as she laughed. “Are you fucking serious? What, is there like some sort of weird secret baby-cult here?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to talk later and maybe then I can get some more details.”

“So this girl just walked up to you and was like, ‘Hey, I wear diapers too’?”

“Sort of. She didn’t know about me, specifically. But I think she knew that Ms. Heller had a, uh, vacancy for that position.”

“Un-fucking-real,” she said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I don’t want to be a baby like you,” she said. “But…damn. Why didn’t some powerful executive want me to be their little office play-toy?”

“I’m sure they’re looking for specific kinds of people,” I replied. “Well-behaved minions and the like.”

“I’ll take some solace in that,” she said. “What’s that say about you that you got snatched up almost immediately?”

“She clearly saw something she liked.”

She laughed. “You were probably already one diaper away from being a big baby when you strolled into this building in the first place.”

“H-hey,” I shot back. “I…I wasn’t a…” I stopped myself. Maybe she was right. Or maybe it just didn’t matter.

“So she wasn’t even there to change your diaper? Are you going to get a diaper rash now?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Do you want some help?”

“Are you actually asking if you can–”

“I’m just teasing.” Her tone certainly suggested that was the case, but I swore I could read something else in the expression on her face. Curiosity?

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Anderson probably,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” Lyndie replied. “He came by earlier when you left.”

I opened the office door to reveal that it was Gabrielle Heller herself. My eyes grew large as I skittered back from the door with what I could only imagine to be a look of horror on my face. I could tell that Lyndie didn’t know who she was, but could make an educated guess simply based on my expression alone.

“Ah, here’s where they hid you,” Ms. Heller said, strolling into the small office, closing the door behind her. “I had to ask a few different people where they stashed away the interns, and it was surprisingly hard to get a good answer. I have to admit, I’ve walked past this door for years and always just assumed it was a closet.”

“It pretty much is just a closet,” Lyndie said.

“I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” said Ms. Heller, offering a hand towards Lyndie.

“Lyndie Brown,” she said, shaking Ms. Heller’s hand. “I’m also an intern.”

“Nice to meet you. I am Gabrielle Heller. I’m kind of in charge around here.”

Lyndie shook her head. “So I’ve heard.”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with me?”

Lyndie looked at me and then back at Ms. Heller. Lyndie seemed humbled for the first time that I had ever seen. She had spent most of her time bemoaning the corporate culture of this company, and so I didn’t think it was respect for Ms. Heller as a CEO. It was respect for Ms. Heller as a powerful woman.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a thing or two.”

Ms. Heller laughed. “Well, I shouldn’t pry too much. I don’t know what Mr. Ashburn here has told you or not.”

Lyndie quickly blurted out: “He told me about the diapers.” She then looked back at me, mouthing the word ‘sorry.’

I couldn’t be too mad. The truth was already out, whether Ms. Heller knew it or not.

“Ah, perfect,” Ms. Heller said. “Then I suppose it won’t be too awkward when I let Clark know that I came to find him because I wanted to check on said diaper.”

I felt my face burn as I sheepishly looked down at the floor. “Here?”

“Well, it’d be silly to make you walk all the way back to my office just so I can check your diaper, yes?”

“But…Lyndie…”

“I’m happy that she’s here,” Ms. Heller said. “As an up and coming woman of business herself, maybe she could benefit from a little lesson on dealing with big babies.”

I watched Lyndie’s lips curl into a smile. I wanted to protest, but I couldn’t imagine that she’d listen to me. I obediently stepped toward Ms. Heller.

It was best just to get this sort of thing over with as quickly as possible.

Nine

Memo to all employees: We like to take the occasional moment to shine a spotlight on members of our staff that we feel have gone above and beyond in their work. And this week, we’d like to shine a spotlight on Ava Barton, Assistant to our VP of Product Development, Neve Beaufort.

“Ava is an absolute dream of an employee,” Neve says. “She manages to exceed my expectations every day. In fact, just yesterday, she managed to exceed my expectations two or three times within a single hour.”

—

“There’s a few ways we can check his diaper,” Ms. Heller said. I wondered if she was talking directly to Lyndie, or if she would’ve said this regardless. “For one, sometimes a baby will just let you know that it’s time for a change.”

“That’s not as exciting,” Lyndie mused aloud from her seat.

“I don’t necessarily mean that he’s going to walk up to me and tell me he needs his diaper changed,” Ms. Heller replied, sounding like a teacher. “Sometimes the communication is more subtle. Maybe he’s being antsy. Maybe you can tell that he wants to ask something, but he can’t quite find the words.”

It didn’t seem likely that she was talking about her direct experience with me, seeing as how we had only been playing this game for less than a week now. But I wondered if this was her experience with her last baby, Hillary.

“If you’re feeling brave,” Ms. Heller continued, “you could always just stick your nose up to his bottom and take a whiff. You might not catch every soggy diaper, but if there’s something else in there, well, you’ll know it.”

Lyndie giggled behind her hand. “Do you think that would actually happen? Him…pooping his pants?”

Ms. Heller smiled mischievously. “Oh, he didn’t tell you about the other day?”

“Oh my god,” Lyndie said, giggling again. “No, he did not!”

“Perhaps I’ve said too much,” Ms. Heller said to me. “I sure hope you can trust her with these secrets.”

“Uhm, me too.”

“You can also tell just by looking at a diaper,” Ms. Heller continued. “Even a damp bottom has a way of revealing itself. Mr. Ashburn, if you’d be so kind as to remove your pants for us?”

I was ashamed to say that both women had seen me in a diaper with my pants pulled down before. Yet both at once still felt like way too much.

“Clark?” Ms. Heller said again, noting the delay in my response.

“Y-yes, sorry.”

Of course I was going to pull my pants down regardless of how I felt about it. She had that sort of pull over me already. I quickly unbuckled my belt and unfastened my pants. With a hand on either side of the waist of my slacks, I pushed them down to my knees.

“A-ha,” Ms. Heller said, patting the back of my diaper. “Do you see? Wet. You can tell just by looking at it.”

“I, uhm, might have seen this before,” Lyndie said.

“Oh? He showed you his diaper, did he? I have to admit, I didn’t think he would do something like that.”

“In his defense,” Lyndie said, “once I caught a whiff of his powdered ass, I didn’t really give him a choice.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Ms. Heller said. “I might have use for someone like you.”

Lyndie’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Perhaps. We’ll have to see if Clark takes my job offer.”

Lyndie’s curious eyes wandered back towards me. I felt like an asshole for not mentioning it sooner, even if I wasn’t completely sure why I hadn’t.

“Well I’m interested,” Lyndie said. “Keep me in mind for whatever you need.”

“I shall. And as for this baby-boy here, it’d probably be for the best if he got his diaper changed.”

“I guess we should go back to your office?” I asked.

“I bet we could do it right here,” Ms. Heller said, looking around our small room. “Do you have a fresh diaper, or do I need to get one from my office?”

I nervously glanced towards Lyndie’s smiling face before answering–I just knew that she was dying to hear my answer as well.

“I…have some things in my bag, yes.”

I waddled back to the table that Lyndie and I shared as a desk, pants still around my thighs, and pulled out my messenger bag. First I pulled out the diaper–one of the extras that Ms. Heller had given me the day before. I was tempted to leave it at that, and just say that was all I had. But there was more in my bag, and I couldn’t help myself. I needed to show Ms. Heller what else I had brought along with me.

Next came the package of baby wipes I had stowed away in my bag. I plopped them onto the table next to the diaper. Again, I paused, contemplating if that was all I wanted to show them or not.

“Is there more?” asked Ms. Heller. Of course she knew.

I sighed and reached into the bag again, drawing out the pacifier. Not my new orange one–that was at home still. This was the one she had given to me. But that wasn’t all that I had, though this last item was the one I was most nervous to reveal.

“Go on,” Ms. Heller said. “What else did you bring in your diaper bag?”

The words ‘diaper bag’ hit harder than I thought they would’ve. I had laughed at myself in the past for carrying around a messenger bag with me to my internship. As if I had things to take to and from the office. And now that I did have something to carry around with me–it was just my diapers.

I pulled the white bottle of baby powder out from the bag.

Both women laughed.

“You’ve thought of everything, I see,” Ms. Heller said.

“Including the desire to smell like a baby,” added Lyndie.

“Now, now,” said Ms. Heller. “Baby powder is a very important part of the diaper change, regardless of how it smells. Especially for bigger babies like Clark here. Could you even imagine having to sit at a desk all day while suffering from diaper rash? We just want to be safe.”

Lyndie nodded, but wasn’t ready to back down from her point: “But the scent…”

“Yes,” Ms. Heller said with a laugh. “Big babies do like being reminded how little they are. Nothing does that quite as well as having the scent of baby powder following them around.”

I cleared my throat, my attempt at subtly reminding them that I was still here.

“Right,” Ms. Heller said. “Let’s get this baby changed. Lyndie, be a dear and clear off your table for us?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It was almost amusing to hear Lyndie swallow her anti-establishment tone for the sake of Ms. Heller. Either she had been all talk, or there was really something about Gabrielle Heller that had commanded Lyndie’s respect. The latter certainly made sense.

Lyndie did as she was asked, quickly closing up her laptop and sweeping aside the documents, newspapers and coffee cups that occupied our workspace.

“Why don’t you hop up there, baby?” asked Ms. Heller.

I briefly considered the logistics of climbing atop the table and whether or not it would support my weight. But I had stubbed my toes against the heavy metal legs enough times to be sure that this beast of a table was more than suitable to support a diaper change–regardless of the size of the baby.

I kicked my shoes off and shimmied the rest of the way out of my pants, leaving them on the floor as I stepped up, first, onto my chair and then onto the table. I slowly eased myself down onto my back.

“He’s very obedient,” Ms. Heller said. “This may be the thing I like about him the most.”

“Maybe it’s your position?” Lyndie asked.

“How so?”

“I mean…maybe more people than you think would be compliant if their company’s CEO told them to put a diaper on.”

“Would you put a diaper on, if I asked you to?” Ms. Heller asked her.

Lyndie thought about it for a moment and shook her head, laughing. “No, probably not. I’d just quit.”

“There you go,” Ms. Heller said. “Besides I have given Clark here many opportunities to walk away, and yet he keeps coming back. In fact, if he were to say to me right here, and right now, that he didn’t want to wear diapers, I’d accept that. I’d turn around and walk right out that door without another word.”

Both women paused, staring down at me, as if waiting to see if I’d say anything. I had nothing to say.

“And if he didn’t want to have his diaper changed in here, in front of his coworker, he could simply say that to me.”

Again, they stared at me. I sighed. I knew what I had to say if I wanted this humiliation to end. But I said nothing.

Ms. Heller stepped closer, flashing me a smug smile. Reaching down, she tore at the tapes that bound the diaper together. I would never not find that sound to be humiliating–the sound of the tapes being pulled from their tight grip was so loud. I wondered how far away from this room the sound could be heard. I just imagined some woman sitting at her desk, drinking some coffee and suddenly recognizing the tell-tale sound of a diaper being opened.

“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” she asked Lyndie.

Lyndie shook her head.

“I suppose you find diapers–and actual babies–icky, don’t you?”

Lyndie laughed and nodded. “I’m not sure that I’d use the word ‘icky,’ but…children really aren’t my thing.”

“Understandable,” Ms. Heller said, picking up the package of baby wipes and opening them up. “They’re all sticky hands and chaos. But I find babies of this size to be much better.”

“You’re still dealing with diapers, though.”

Ms. Heller shrugged as she opened my diaper, revealing my shriveled cock and the soaked interior padding of the diaper.

“You may find this hard to believe, but a diaper change is quite possibly one of the most intimate experiences two people can share. For our baby, Clark, it’s about exposure and vulnerability. Take diapers out of the equation for a moment, and you still have a young man lying on this table with his manhood–for lack of a better word–exposed.”

She playfully lifted my legs into the air, lightly slapping my ass cheeks.

“Here’s his ass. It would be too hard to look right up the baby's back door if you really wanted to. That’s quite exposing. What a vulnerable state to have to be in with other people present. And that’s without mentioning the diapers. Or the things he’d be doing in that diaper, that are just as much on display.”

Ms. Heller, still holding my legs up in the air, tugged the wet diaper out from underneath me, setting it aside. She drew a wipe from the package, carefully unfolding it into her hand before running down my inner thighs and between my legs.

“And likewise. He needs to trust me to take care of him. He needs to know that whatever dreadful mess he’s made, I can take care of it. I’ll clean him. I’ll make him feel safe. And, if he’s a good boy, I’ll reward him.”

She wasn’t just talking to Lyndie. She was talking to me.

“But the other thing to consider,” Ms. Heller said, “is that hand-soap is very much a thing that exists. You will never encounter a mess so bad that you can’t just wash your hands after.”

The damp cloth was worked around my flaccid cock and another was run down my ass. Not because she thought it needed to be cleaned, I suspected, but because she enjoyed doing it. Or…because she knew I enjoyed the feeling of it.

“I feel like you’re trying to convince me to start changing diapers,” Lyndie said.

Ms. Heller shrugged. “We could always use a hand.”

“We?” asked Lyndie. No doubt, she was still thinking about the conversation we were having before Ms. Heller dropped by. The secret baby cult.

Ms. Heller smiled. “There may be an opportunity available for an open-minded young woman. Think about it.” Turning her attention back to me: “Now then. Let’s get you into a fresh new diaper.”

A new diaper didn’t just appear in her hand. It was handed to her by Lyndie. Maybe it was nothing, or just a small polite gesture. Maybe it was a show of interest on Lyndie’s part. If it was the latter, I’m sure it wasn’t lost on Ms. Heller.

The new diaper was unfolded and laid flat on the table underneath me before being slid into place. Only then were my legs lowered back down, reminding me of how malleable I was in her hands. Her baby.

“Are you doing okay, Baby?” she cooed.

“Yes,” I said.

Ms. Heller laughed and shook her head, though I could find no immediate reason for her to find that exchange so comical.

“So you can’t call me Mommy when Miss Lyndie is here?”

Never one to skip an opportunity to laugh at my expense, Lyndie immediately giggled.

“Yes…Mommy,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn as they, no doubt, turned a vibrant shade of crimson.

“I suggest you get used to addressing me as such, company or not, when you know it's appropriate.”

“How will I know when it’s appropriate?” I asked.

“I’d say that during a diaper change, regardless of who is watching, is a good start,” Ms. Heller said, grinning. “But you’re a smart baby. I think you’ll figure it out.”

Lyndie handed the bottle of baby powder to Ms. Heller. It wasn’t even asked for. Had I missed some signal or communication? Telepathy? Would Ms. Heller have skipped the powder if it wasn’t handed to her? They were questions that didn’t really matter now. This was happening. I’d smell like a baby for the rest of the day once more.

A few hearty shakes later and the new diaper was fastened around me, taped tightly in place. With a playful smack to the diaper, it was done. I was as good as new.

“Now then,” Ms. Heller said. “I trust you know how to put your own pants on?” She checked her watch. “I’m running late for a meeting, it seems.”

I wondered if people ever remarked on her own baby-scented aura as she walked through these halls or while joining meetings late. Surely, she was carrying around some residual traces of baby powder. Was it her position that helped her skirt gossip and speculation? Or…was it that anyone in a position of speculation was already well aware of what she was doing in her free moments?

“I trust you’ll come see me later if your diaper needs changing?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I said, nodding. Remembering the conversation we just had, I quickly tried it again: “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. I’ll be seeing you. And you, Miss Lyndie. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hope that we get to see each other again?”

“I’m sure we will.”

As quickly as she had first entered The Closet, she exited–just a blur heading right out the door and into the sea of cubicles again.

For a few minutes, a silence hung in the air. It didn’t seem particularly awkward. More like there just wasn’t that much to say. I swung myself around to the end of the table, sliding off it as my fresh diaper crinkled the whole way. Back on my feet again, I pulled my pants up and over the diaper. Lyndie watched me the entire time, looking incredibly entertained.

“Well there you go,” I finally offered, breaking the silence. “You got to see that in action.”

She closed her eyes and exhaled, shaking her head. “I take back everything I’ve ever said about the corporate world. It’s so much better than I thought.”

“I’m not sure Ms. Heller is indicative of all executives.”

“No, but… Damn, I just want to be her, you know? That power. That control over a room.”

“So happy I could introduce you two.”

I had a thought that I had been working on since Ms. Heller walked out the door. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea yet or not, but I felt like I needed to throw it out there and see what happened.

“Hey. Are you…doing anything tonight?”

She smiled. “I’ve never been asked out by a baby before.”

“I’m not asking you out,” I said. “I just…this has all been a lot. I don’t have a lot of friends, but maybe we could just go and get some dinner or something? I’m just not sure I want to be left alone with all this uncertainty.”

I was impressed with how quickly she was able to wipe away her smug smile, replacing it with a more sincere one. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t think I’ll be changing your diapers though.”

“I…I don’t think you’ll have to do that.”

But I could already feel a new round of discomfort in my bladder. Sooner or later, someone was going to have to change my diaper again.

Ten

“No way,” she said, shaking her head and laughing. “I just can’t even wrap my head around it. Minutes after you walked out of her office, some other guy in a suit and tie probably walked in to talk about a spreadsheet, and the room had to smell like…a dirty diaper still, right?”

I just shrugged. I was telling Lyndie everything. Everything. Messy diapers made on the floor of Ms. Heller’s office and all.

“Imagine having that kind of backbone,” she said. “Your office could smell like a dirty diaper and you just…don’t care?”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t know that she doesn’t care,” I said. “Maybe she cares deeply. Maybe she locks the door after changing someone’s diaper in her office and pretends to be out of the building for the rest of the day.”

“The balls on that woman.”

I shrugged. “She’s something, right?”

We were walking down the street together, having left the office for the day. For as humiliating as it was to put every single embarrassing detail out into the world for her, it felt good to get it off my chest. Given this knowledge, and after Lyndie had seen the way Ms. Heller interacted with me for herself, I no longer felt alone. If I didn’t have a friend, I at least needed an ally. I needed that.

“But you like it,” she said. It might have been a question, but it seemed more like a statement. An observation.

“Is that obvious?”

Lyndie laughed. “If you didn’t like it at this point, I’d say you’ve had plenty of opportunities to shut it down.”

“Guilty, then.”

“Who else knows?” she asked.

“Within the office? I have no idea how deep this thing goes. Otherwise just you. And my roommate.”

“Oh?” she said, eyebrows raised. “Is that as awkward as it sounds?”

“Too soon to say,” I grumbled. “But probably.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “You can’t catch a break, can you? Maybe I should be asking if there’s anyone who doesn’t know.”

I shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time, I’m sure.”

We never really made any sort of plan for the evening. She had just begun following me after work. I used my transit pass to board the train, wondering if that might’ve been our point of separation. But then she scanned hers and followed me to the tracks where we boarded my train together.

It looked like she was coming home with me.

Sitting down on the train brought a blush to my face. First, there was the louder-than-expected crinkling coming from my rear as I lowered myself to the seat. Then, the faint scent of baby powder hung in the air around us. I wondered if I’d ever get used to that.

“Need a change?” she teased.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

Somewhere between getting my diaper changed by Ms. Heller in The Closet and leaving work, I had returned to Ms. Heller for another fresh diaper. The fact that getting my diaper changed by the CEO now felt like a footnote in my day rather than the main event made me a little nervous. Someday soon, all this weirdness in my life might seem kind of…normal.

“She offered you a job?” Lyndie asked.

“Yeah…”

“Full time baby, I assume? Are you going to be her court jester? Bopping around in a stinky diaper for her amusement?”

“Her assistant,” I said. “But…let’s be real. That might as well be the same thing as a jester. She’s certainly not interested in me for my filing skills.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about that?”

“Well, for one, it would’ve required me to tell you about, you know, diapers?”

She chuckled. “Right, right. That checks out. So, now that your dirty laundry–pun absolutely intended–is out in the open, are you going to take her up on the offer?”

I spared her my whole internal debate about the fork in the road my life was approaching, just cutting to the current feeling I had in my gut: “Yeah, probably.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Do you think you’ll get business cards? Your official title can read: ‘Office Baby.’ And the card could even be baby-scented.”

My cheeks warmed again. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“I’m learning a lot about office politics,” she said. “For one, there are clearly two types of employees: Parents and babies.”

I was reminded of something Ms. Heller had said to me in one of our earliest encounters–that there were just leaders and followers. By recognizing a similar pattern herself, Lyndie’s quip only further confirmed that she was in the ‘leader’ category.

Or, ‘parents.’

“You might be onto something,” I said, staring out the train’s window as the chain of cars began to move forward on the track.

A few minutes passed, mostly in silence. We had said plenty already, and there’d be more to say later, so I didn’t think much of it.

“Do you have, like, a boyfriend?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Why? Are you interested?”

“No,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t put much thought into my question before asking it. But, then, I worried that denying my interest could’ve sounded even worse. “Not that I don’t think you’d be a good girlfriend or anything…”

“Calm down, baby,” she teased.

“I just don’t know a whole lot about you.”

“I tend to prefer it that way,” she said.

This, I already knew. Her antiauthoritarian attitude had suggested she was the lone-wolf type. I wondered where that fell on the whole leader/follower paradigm. Or, parent/baby.

“I’m single,” she continued, getting back to my question. “If you were anyone else, I’d say it’s by choice.”

“But because it’s me?”

She laughed. “I just got dumped a few weeks ago.”

“Ouch. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Well…no, it is. But I’m getting over it.”

“What happened?”

“We’re young and stupid, honestly. I wish I had a better answer, but that’s what it boils down to. I wasn’t going to marry this ding-dong and I doubt he wanted to marry me either. He found someone that put out more than I did, so I got kicked to the curb.”

This felt good. Adult conversation. Well, young-adult conversation at least. I struggled to maintain friendships in college, and while Evan and I got along just fine, at the end of the day he was more roommate than friend.

“I’d ask about your love life,” she said, “but I suspect it begins and ends with your Mommy.”

“You’re not entirely wrong…”

“You’re not going to win over too many women while peeing in your Pampers.”

I shrugged, doing my best not to let my embarrassment show. “I’m not sure that I’m looking to date right now.”

“Why?” she asked, grinning. “Do you think you and Gabrielle Heller have a future together?”

The thought had never crossed my mind before, and hearing the words come out of her mouth did sound kind of ridiculous. Still, the idea did seem to resonate with some part of me.

“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head. “I think you might be right.”

She laughed, slapping my leg playfully. “Seriously?”

“I dunno.” I was thinking out loud now, venturing into parts of my psyche that I had yet to analyze or process–a dangerous place to be, really. “Nobody’s ever paid attention to me like she has, you know?”

“Are you in loooove,” she asked, mockingly. Condescendingly.

“No.” Not yet…

She sighed, her smile fading a little bit. “Look, just do me a favor.”

“Hmm?”

“Just…be careful?” Her tone had changed, and I could tell she was being choosy with her words. “There’s still this big power dynamic in play, right? You’re having fun and meeting all of her needs and being the best baby you can be. But you’re still just a toy to her. And she’s a big powerful CEO. She eats little babies like you for breakfast.”

I recognized that she was probably right about all of that, but to truly embrace her words would put a huge damper on the thrill this new lifestyle was giving me. I tucked away what she said into a small place in the back of my mind for now.

“I’ll be careful,” I said.

It wasn’t long after that we had reached my stop. Lyndie followed me off the train and out of the station.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged, realizing I had no plan at all.

“I assume you’re fine with going to your place?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“We can order a pizza, then.”

It seemed as good a plan as any. Her ability to make a plan on the fly certainly had ‘leader’ qualities to it. “That sounds perfect. I can order one now.”

I pulled open my food delivery app on the phone as we walked. For a moment, I was feeling inspired–like I too could show some leadership by just ordering food without consulting her for her opinion. But I hesitated, it just wasn’t in my nature.

“Pepperoni,” she said, as if reading my mind.

I laughed and shook my head, selecting that from the menu.

“Will your roommate care that I’m there?” she asked.

“I doubt it. He’s pretty chill. Besides, he’ll be happy I ordered food.”

The closer we got to the apartment, the more I had to pee. For a few minutes, I didn’t think much of it. Twenty years of experience had taught me that I could easily ignore these early alerts from my bladder. But, I thought, I was wearing a diaper. I weighed my options, and I was left feeling confident that I could probably go ahead and wet my diaper without it causing any sort of unnecessary humiliation. I’d wet myself, go home, and then change. Easy peasy.

“I don’t talk to my roommate much,” she said. “We used to be close when we first moved in. I don’t think, like, anything happened. But I think she’s going through some stuff, you know? I think she’s struggling in school and it sounds like her mom is a real bitch and…”

I was only partially listening to what she had to say. It was one thing to wet myself while sitting in an office chair or just standing in a room. Walking down the street with someone, trying to seem engaged in a conversation, was something else entirely. I could feel the pressure in my bladder building. I knew that I had to go, but it was hard convincing my body that this was an acceptable time to do it.

“Yeah, I hear that,” I said, hoping that I was providing a suitable answer at a suitable pause in the conversation.

“But, whatever,” she continued. “If what she says is true, it’s not like it’ll be an issue for that much longer, you know? She’ll go her own way, and I’ll go mine. So it’s not even worth getting mad about, really. I don’t want to say it’s silly but at the same time…”

I couldn’t have been paying less attention to what she was saying. I was concentrating on my bladder, and my efforts to empty it into the diaper.

This isn’t hard, I told myself. You do this all the time. Pee. That’s it! Just pee. Pee into the diaper. You can do it. Pee into the diaper.

“...and she thinks that I’m probably going to end up paying that bill, right? I mean, maybe? But do I really want to pay it when I know that she’s probably not going to be able to pay me back?”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Was she still talking about her roommate? It didn’t matter. Focus. Not on Lyndie, on peeing. Pee into the diaper. Pee into the diaper.

We reached a crosswalk and paused, waiting for the signal to change so that we could proceed. It was here, stopped, that I was finally able to win my battle over my body. I could’ve moaned in relief, it felt so good to feel the warm pee begin to trickle into the padding, slowly growing into a heavier stream. The warm sensation saturated the diaper, quickly spreading in all directions. It felt heavenly.

“I don’t think it’s that funny,” Lyndie said, looking at me. I stared at her vacantly for a moment, unsure of what she was talking about or why she’d get the impression that I thought it was funny.

“I…I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Are you even paying attention to me?”

“Well…sure. It’s just that I was–”

She shook her head and chuckled to herself. Just in time for the ‘walk’ signal to light up so we could continue on our way.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You were just using your diaper, weren’t you?”

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “No way!”

“Oh come on, I’m trying to open up about my life and I look at your face and all I see is some dumb baby who is lost in thought. And then you got this goofy grin on your face. You totally just pissed your pants, didn’t you?”

“No! I was paying attention! I’m sorry, I just got the tiniest bit distracted for a moment there.”

“So if I made you pull your pants down, I’d see a completely clean and dry diaper?”

“Well…that’s not what I said.”

She laughed. “So you did just piss your diaper?”

“I didn’t say that either.” I swallowed nervously, frustrated that I had once again seemingly set myself up for embarrassment. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I also didn’t think it mattered. There was still a plan: get home and get changed.

I was saved by the sight of my apartment building ahead. “That’s where I live.”

“Is that the crib?” she asked. There was an implied wink and nudge.

We entered through the lobby and boarded the elevator. I hit the button for the fifth floor, and no sooner than the large metal doors slid shut, Lyndie turned to me with a wildly gleeful look in her eyes.

“Well?” she asked, as if I should already have known what she wanted.

“Well what?”

“Show me your diaper!”

“No way! I can’t just… Not here on the elevator.”

“Real quick,” she said. “Just pull down your pants, show me, and then pull your pants right back up again.”

The elevator began to move; it was a dreadfully slow machine. We were so close to the apartment now. So close to just leaping into my room and slamming the door shut for long enough that I could exchange this sopping wet diaper for a new one. I wondered if I’d be able to stall her long enough to get out of the elevator without pulling my pants down.

“There’s really nothing to see,” I said. “Just forget about it.”

“Do I need to tell Mommy?” she asked playfully? “What would she say if she knew that you weren’t being a good little boy and allowing for a diaper check?”

Damnit. I had no idea if Lyndie was bluffing or not, nor was I sure that Ms. Heller would care if Lyndie did actually say something to her. But just the thought of that conversation happening–the potential humiliation–was enough for me to reconsider my plan.

“Fine, fine,” I said. “It has to be quick though.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Just show me.”

I glanced up at the LED screen above the elevator’s buttons. Three more floors to go. Surely enough time to give her a quick peek.

I took a deep breath and quickly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants before shoving my pants down, just far enough that my diaper would be visible to her. I, of course, knew what she’d find and could guess how she’d react, and I braced myself for that humiliation.

“Well would you look at that,” she said, bending over to get a quicker look. “Looks like someone did have a little accident in their diapers, huh?”

Two more floors to go.

“There,” I said. “Happy now? Can I pull my pants up?”

She seemed to ignore my question, instead running her hand over my diaper. “It’s so warm. It gets so squishy when you’ve peed in it, yeah?”

One floor to go.

“Okay, I need to pull my pants up,” I said, practically pleading now. “Please. We’re almost there and the door is going to open and…”

“Sheesh,” she muttered. “Just hold your horses, okay? I’m still checking the baby’s diaper.”

DING. We had arrived. And the door immediately opened, revealing my neighbor–a middle-aged woman from a few doors down the hall, Ms. Tuttleman.

I quickly pulled up my pants, having to give them an extra firm hoist to get them up and over the swollen diaper. I could only imagine how red my face was. Meanwhile, Lyndie slowly stood up straight, grinning as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Uhm, hi, Ms. Tuttleman.”

The woman narrowed her eyes towards us, looking both concerned and suspicious. “Good afternoon, Clark,” she finally offered. And to Lyndie: “Miss.”

“Good afternoon,” Lyndie said back with a polite nod.

We quickly stepped off the elevator as Ms. Tuttleman got in. Her eyes continued to watch us as the elevator doors slid shut again.

“Well that was fun, wasn’t it?” Lyndie asked.

I wanted to crawl into a deep pit and allow myself to be buried alive. I couldn’t believe I had been exposed, once again, to someone else–another person who I encountered regularly enough. How was I ever supposed to look her in the face again?

“That was not fun,” I said. “I’d love it if I could make it, like, ten whole minutes without being embarrassed.”

“I hate to say it,” Lyndie said, “but you’re probably not going to get those ten minutes anytime soon.”

“Why not?” I spat.

“You said your roommate knows already, right?”

I nodded, though it occurred to me that he only sort-of knew. He had made guesses, but nothing was actually ever confirmed.

She shrugged. “If everybody knows, I see no reason not to talk about it.”

Fuck. It was going to be a long night.

Eleven

“I don’t think this has ever happened before,” Evan said as Lyndie followed me into the apartment. “Are you actually bringing a woman home?”

“Lyndie, this is my roommate Evan,” I said. “Evan, this is Lyndie. We work together. We’re friends.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Evan said, shaking her hand. “This is normally the part where I’d say that I’ve only heard great things about you, but I don’t think he’s ever told me about you before.”

“No?” Lyndie asked with a smile. “Has he told you about his boss?”

I cleared my throat nervously, afraid that Lyndie was wasting no time in making tonight the circus that I feared it would become.

“Only that she offered him a permanent position,” he said, shrugging. “Why? Is she a real bitch?”

“Quite the opposite, really,” Lyndie said. “Kind of…maternal, I suppose you could say.”

There was the slightest twitch in Evan’s lips, like he wanted to piece that together with what he had learned about me the other night.

“I ordered pizza,” I said, hoping to start a new conversation that distracted him. “It should be here soon.”

“That’s good to hear,” Evan said. “I can get some plates together. Maybe some drinks? Lyndie, what can I get for you?”

“Oh, I’m not picky,” she said. “Whatever.”

“We have beer,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t think it’s very good beer, if that matters.”

Lyndie shrugged. “Beer is fine.”

Beer was a recent arrival to our lives. With neither Evan or I being all that social, we weren’t going to any parties. And we had both only just turned 21 in the last few months. When either of us went to the store–usually me–we’d occasionally grab a 6 or 12 pack of whatever looked interesting. Or cheap. Usually cheap.

“Humphrey Light?” she said, reading from the can that Evan handed to her. “I’ve never even heard of this.”

Nor had I, and there was only one store in town that sold it–almost hidden in the back corner like even the store was ashamed of having it. But it was impossibly cheap.

“Beer is beer,” I said with a shrug. It felt like the kind of thing I’d remember saying years from now, and I’d wonder how I could’ve been so stupid.

“You want one too?” asked Evan.

“Set one aside for me. I just need to run to my room real quick.” I looked towards Lyndie, catching the growing smile on her face. She knew exactly what I needed to do. I was surprised that she wasn’t offering to follow me to my room to watch me undress and change–though thankful she hadn’t.

“Don’t be long,” she said, in a sing-song tone.

“Just a minute or two,” I said, before scurrying back to my room and closing the door.

My body felt like it was moving at 2x speed. I unbuttoned my work shirt and stripped off my tie, throwing both over the back of my chair. I let my pants fall to the ground, while thinking about how often I had pulled my pants down over the course of the day–for an audience. I peeled the tapes off from the diaper, failing to consider how loud the sticky strips sounded as they were freed from the plastic. Even louder was the sound of the wet diaper falling to the floor with a soggy THUMP.

I debated if I should put on another diaper or just put some boxers on instead. After having left the office, I was under no obligation to put another on. Even if I wanted to, a little. But no. It seemed like a bad idea while hanging out with Lyndie and Evan. They already knew way too much, and I didn’t need to further embarrass myself by crinkling like a toddler all night. I ran a damp baby wipe between my legs and around my soft manhood, hoping to clean away any lingering urine or baby powder scents.

Slipping into a pair of boxers felt strange now. I had grown so accustomed to the thick presence of the diaper in my pants that anything else felt nonexistent. After putting on a pair of joggers, I ran my hands over my ass, dismayed at the lack of extra padding. Even walking felt strange, as I no longer had to overcorrect my steps to account for the waddle the diapers gave me.

I missed Mommy.

I returned to the others in the kitchen, finding that Evan and Lyndie already seemed to be hitting it off.

“...and I got to see them live,” she was saying. “One of the best shows I’ve ever been to.”

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t go to many concerts. But I might make an exception if they played around here.”

“Who are we talking about?” I asked.

“Nine Inch Nails,” she said. “Are you a fan?”

I shrugged. “I’m not sure I could name a single song by them.”

“It’s not really his kind of music,” Evan said, laughing. “He likes happy hipster music. What was that band you were listening to the other day? The Furry Foxes?”

“Fleet Foxes,” I corrected. Hardly what I’d consider to be ‘happy hipster’ music, but it seemed like a moot point to argue.

“How’d you two meet anyway,” she asked.

“Friends of friends, I think,” Evan said. To me: “Tom, right?”

I nodded. “I think so. One of those things where we were both looking for a place at the same time, and our mutual friend Tom connected us.”

“Do you get along?” she asked, as if interviewing us.

“I’d say so,” I said. “We give each other the space we need, and that’s all you can really ask for.”

“We can both deal with each other’s eccentricities,” Evan added, laughing.

“I’m curious about that,” she said. She pointed to me. “What would you say is Evan’s weirdest trait?”

I nervously glanced towards Evan. It was an awkward spot to be put in, and I wasn’t sure that I could think of an answer that wouldn’t be uncomfortable for him to hear. And likewise, what would he say about me? It was a dangerous game. He’d give back whatever I gave him, so it would be best to tread lightly.

“It’s cool,” Evan said. “Roast me. Let me have it.”

Fuck it. “Well, he’s a hermit, for one,” I said. “To the point where I wonder if sunlight would kill him. When’s the last time you left this apartment?”

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Damn, man. You’re not wrong. I guess I always hoped that wasn’t so obvious.”

“Agoraphobic?” asked Lyndie.

“A homebody,” he said, shrugging. “I’m tempted to just say ‘lazy,’ but maybe I’m just…depressed.” He laughed again, the nervous chuckle of someone who might have just made an accidental breakthrough with themselves.

“No judgment here,” I said. I now felt bad for trying to make light of his antisocial tendencies.

“Nor here,” Lyndie added. “But now you’ve got to give us some dirt on Clark.”

Oh boy.

Evan laughed. “I dunno…”

“It’s cool,” I said. “Let’s just put it all out there.”

“Okay, so then can we talk about the weird baby-thing?” he asked.

Lyndie was on the edge of her seat, looking ecstatic.

“I get the feeling that…you know all about this already?” Evan asked Lyndie, glancing at her excited face.

“Oh, I got a front-row seat for the weirdness at work today,” she said.

“Wait,” he said, looking absolutely astonished. “What?”

I sighed. “I probably need to catch you up on a few things…”

“I thought you said he knew all about it,” Lyndie said.

“He knows of it. I guess. Maybe.”

“Here’s what I know,” Evan said. “You were moaning like a banshee the other night, calling out for mommies and diapers. And then you came stumbling out of your room smelling like a baby’s changing table.”

Lyndie was already in hysterics, seemingly unable to stop herself.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” I said.

“Alright,” Lyndie said, containing her laughter for long enough to face Evan. She was ready to unload all the dirt. “You might want to hold onto something, because this ride is a bit crazy.”

Evan lifted his can of cheap beer into the air, showing his tight grip on it.

“Perfect. So, the CEO of this entire company has personally selected little Clark here to be her weird kinky sex slave.”

Evan looked at me, pure confusion washing over his face. “Sex slave? You?”

“Well, it’s not like he’s just humping her all day long,” Lyndie continued. “She’s keeping him in diapers. Treating him like a baby. And I don’t mean she’s, like, teasing him babytalk or something. She’s literally putting him on his back and changing his diaper like an infant.”

Evan shook his head in astonishment. “Jesus. And you…like that?”

I felt my cheeks burn. “I mean…”

“Yes,” Lyndie said, answering on my behalf. “He fucking loves it!”

“You said you actually saw it happening today?” Evan asked her.

“So Gabrielle–this enormous company’s CEO–barges into the broom closet that we get to use as an office, right? And with no regard for whether or not I was there, she makes him lie down on top of the desk so she can change his diaper.”

“Which begs the question,” said Evan, “you not only wear diapers, but you use them?”

“Uh…yeah, that’s right,” I said, nodding.

“At work?”

I nodded again. “Also true.”

“How does that even work?” he asked.

“So far?” replied Lyndie. “Not at all. You know. I know. Your neighbor now knows. God knows how many other people know.”

“Our neighbor?” chuckled Evan. “Which one?”

“Ms. Tuttleman…”

“How the hell did that she see…” Evan stopped himself and shook his head. “No, nevermind. I don’t even want to know how that happened.”

“Alright, fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in the air. “We can all agree that my life is infinitely weirder than Old Man Hermit over here who hasn’t stepped outside in 40 years.”

“Aww, calm down,” Lyndie said. “Don’t get your diapers in a twist.”

“If he gets too excited, does he wet his pants?” mocked Evan.

“Probably,” said Lyndie, shrugging. “Speaking of, are you currently rocking your baby-pants? Pull-ups?”

“I’m a big kid now,” sang Evan in an especially teasing tone.

“No,” I said. “Just regular old underwear.” I had to take a mental snapshot of this moment: getting teased at my own kitchen table about diapers from both my roommate and coworker.

“Aw, what the hell?” Lyndie said. “You’re not going to model your diapies for us?”

“I think you’ve seen more than enough of my…diaper area today,” I said.

“I dunno,” Evan said. “Is it weird that I want to see it?”

“See what?” I asked. “Me in a diaper?”

“Yeah. I mean, c’mon, that’s not something you see every day, right? How could you not be curious about that?”

“Sure, I guess. But I’m not going to go and put a diaper on for your entertainment. Don’t I deserve a break from being everyone’s laughing stock?”

“Maybe,” Lyndie said, smiling. “But you like it. So, we’d be doing you a favor by making you go and put one on again for us.”

I sighed. “You don’t actually expect me to go put a diaper on for you two right now, do you?”

Lyndie and Evan looked at each other, simultaneously answering: “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to,” Lyndie said. It wasn’t the first time I had heard that recently. “But if you wanted to? Nobody would be mad about that.”

I took a long sip of the beer while I thought about it. It tasted terrible. This quality had to be indicative of the price. Otherwise who would ever choose to drink beer?

Focus.

It seemed like a bad idea. An obviously bad idea–the kind where if you explained it to someone else later, they’d say: “Well, of course, you shouldn’t have done that.” But there was that yearning again–that need for the feeling of shame and humiliation. In my own home? It was way more tempting than it should’ve been.

“I…I’ll just be a second,” I said, getting up from the table. I quickly turned and walked back to my room, closing the door behind me.

At that moment, I honestly had no idea if I was going to put a diaper on or not. I just wanted to think about it without their hungry eyes staring at me. I knew what they wanted–they wanted Baby Clark. They wanted someone to tease and laugh at.

I was prepared to deny that request. I knew, in my heart, it was probably better in the longterm for my mental health that I did what made me happy and not them. But then I made the mistake of looking down at my bag. My diaper bag, as Ms. Heller had called it earlier. I could see the edge of one of the diapers poking out from the top of it. I bent over and grabbed it, pulling it free from the bag so I could hold it in my hands. It crinkled in my fingers as I pressed into the thick padding.

I wished I had more self control. Alas, I did not, and I returned to the kitchen table with a diaper on under my pants.

“Well?” Lyndie asked, almost immediately. “Did you put one on?”

I shrugged, wondering how long I could remain coy about it. “Maybe.”

But then I sat down, and in the eerie sudden quiet of the kitchen, the tell-tale rustling of my plasticked pants seemed to echo through the whole apartment. There was their answer.

“Show him,” Lyndie said.

“What? But…I…”

“No, he doesn’t actually have to show me anything,” Evan said. A surprisingly diplomatic thought for a guy who helped pressure me into putting a diaper on in the first place.

“But don’t you see?” asked Lyndie. “We’re not making him do anything he doesn’t want to do. We’re enabling him. He’s turning into a little humiliation addict. And he loves that. Right, Clark?”

I sighed. “It’d probably be dangerous for me to answer that question honestly.” Which was probably the same thing as just agreeing with her, but it was too late to fix that.

I tried to think ahead to what the worst case scenario would be after revealing all of my secrets to Evan. Him, exploiting me and holding these secrets over my head? Manipulation? Somewhere, deep within my consciousness, I felt the slightest twitch of pleasure.

“You don’t have to show me anything,” Evan said again, laughing. “I definitely believe that you’re wearing a diaper.”

But it was too late. Lyndie had either put the idea of showing him my diaper in my head, or she had just amplified a much smaller idea that I already had.

“Fine,” I said, pretending like I had somehow been coerced into this action. “I’ll show you.”

I stood up from my chair, that shameful crinkling sound following me as I did, and I stepped back from the table to give both a better view. I wanted to say something–maybe some sort of self-deprecating remark that would show that I’m in on the joke instead of just being the joke. Instead, I just grabbed the sides of my pants and shoved them downwards. There it was, once more, my giant white diaper was once more on display.

Evan’s eyes widened. “I’ll be damned. That’s a diaper alright.”

“But you should take your pants off,” Lyndie said with a shrug.

“Off?” I exclaimed. “Have you not seen enough?”

“Well, we’ve seen it all now,” she said. “So there’s no reason to hide it, right? Besides, haven’t you ever been to a house with a baby in it? And the parents let the baby crawl around in just its diaper? Maybe it saves money on laundry detergent or something.”

“They probably just want to keep an eye on the baby’s diaper,” Evan added. “So they can be the first to know when there’s an accident.”

“Oh my god, speaking of…” exclaimed Lyndie. I wasn’t even sure, yet, what she was going to say, but I already knew it was going to obliterate any remaining traces of my dignity. “...Gabrielle told me the craziest thing today while she was checking in on Baby Clark’s diaper.”

“Oh?” asked an amused Evan.

“Apparently, she made him poop his pants in her office.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that right?” Lyndie asked me.

“Are you asking me for details?”

“Just confirmation that it happened,” she replied with a smug smile.

“It happened.”

Evan and Lyndie both laughed.

“So you’re, like, all in on this baby thing, huh?” Evan asked.

I shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“Well then I agree with Lyndie. Take off your pants and leave them off, Baby.”

Twelve

We were all trying to tread the thin line between just being a bunch of young adults hanging out and being a group of semi-strangers who were all connected by the knowledge of my humiliation fetish.

For one, it felt good to have ‘friends,’ even if I wasn’t sure if that was the word I wanted to use. For this time, and any time after this, I’d be wondering if they actually wanted to spend time with me or if they just wanted to see me embarrass myself. And, of course, I didn’t mind a little bit of humiliation in the name of fun. But…I could use some friends.

For a moment, we had managed to get past my diapers and we were just talking. Three pals, talking about movies.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell chime echoed through the apartment.

“That’s probably the pizza,” I said.

“Are you going to get the door?” Lyndie asked me.

“Me? No way. Not like this.”

“Oh come on,” she pleaded. “It’s not going to hurt anyone. The delivery guy doesn’t know who you are. It’ll be funny.”

“Yeah, but…”

Ding-dong.

“You better do it soon, though,” Evan added. “Don’t want the pizza-man to think we’re not home.”

I kept hoping that Evan would be the voice of reason and would step forward to shield me from Lyndie’s attempts at humiliation. But no. He seemed to be squarely on her side.

“You really want me to answer the door?” I asked. “Like this?”

They both offered a confident nod. I was outvoted. Could I have said no? Could I have refused? Probably. But did I? Of course not.

Ding-dong. This poor and impatient delivery man.

“I’m coming!” I shouted at the door.

I shuffled my way towards the front door without any further pleading needed from the others. The thick diaper crinkling loudly without my pants in place to help muffle the noise. I took a deep breath as I grasped the door knob. Alright, here we go…

The door opened and there she was. She.

“I, uh, got your food,” the young woman said, slowly pushing the box towards me.

“Th-thank you,” I stammered, quickly taking it.

She was taking a moment to study me, taking in the whole picture. “Okay, well…you have a good night.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You too.”

And I’d never forget the smirk I saw on her face as I closed the door. Her eyes were filled with an eager amusement–wherever she was going next, she couldn’t wait to tell this story.

But out of sight, out of mind. The door was closed, Pizza-Girl was gone, and it was almost guaranteed that I’d never know the ramifications of being exposed to her in my diaper.

“Was that as awkward as it sounded?” Lyndie asked when I returned to the kitchen.

“Probably even more than you can imagine,” I said, plopping the box of pizza onto the table. I sat back down in my chair with another comical poof of powder-scented air being forced out of the padding.

Pizza and beer served as the great uniter, and for a few minutes we forgot about diapers. Just bullshitting and laughing together with other humans was refreshing, and it occurred to me that both Lyndie and Evan needed this just as much as I did. The misfits–the lone wolf, the shut-in, and the baby–we were all getting a little reprieve from the everyday.

And then I had to pee.

I couldn’t just tell them that I needed to go to the bathroom. I already knew what the response to that would be–they’d expect me to use the diaper. Truthfully, I already knew that I’d be using the diaper. The question was whether or not I’d tell them that I was.

I decided to say nothing and just do it. My body, it seemed, had become more comfortable with following through on my brain’s perverse requests. It was almost too easy to simply decide that I’d wet the diaper, and for my body to respond by immediately relaxing my control over my bladder. The warmth quickly enveloped the front of the diaper and began to spread under my bottom. The once-fluffy padding congealed into something denser. I briefly looked down between my legs, noting the obvious change in appearance the diaper had taken on. It was one thing to have the color change from white to yellow. But there was something incredibly obvious about just the wetness alone–the shamefulness overwrote any cuteness a dry diaper had.

We stayed at the table for a while longer, just chatting. Eating. Drinking. I began to suspect that everyone had forgotten about the diaper. Even when Evan excused himself to use the bathroom, I expected that to trigger Lyndie into asking me how my diaper was holding up. And I wanted her to ask. I wanted to coyly hint at what I had done until she made me show her my diaper. But alas, it wasn’t a talking point. And after a while, even I forgot about the wet diaper.

“Well, look,” Evan said, dropping an empty can of beer onto the table–his third, by my estimation. “This has been fun. But I have absolutely maxed out my social batteries. Maybe for the year. I need to go lie down for a bit. No offense to anyone here, of course. Even you, Baby Clark.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Lyndie nodded, seeming to understand where he was coming from. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Next time I come over, you’ll hang out with us again?”

“You’re coming back?” he asked.

She laughed. “I’d bet on it.”

“Then, absolutely, I will.” And he got up from the table and returned to his room, closing the door behind him.

“And then there were two,” she said. “How's that diaper holding up?”

There it was. That was the question I had been waiting for. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or upset that Evan had left before we got back to the discussion of my diaper.

“It might have seen better days,” I said.

I expected her to immediately want to see the damage, but she showed restraint. She just smiled, sipping at whatever was left in her current beer can. “Oh yeah?” she said. “You just…wet yourself while we were all talking?”

I nodded.

“Was that hard to do?”

“It was easier than it should’ve been.”

“Do you worry that you’ll ever get so used to diapers that you’ll be, like, un-potty trained?”

I grimaced a little. “I hadn’t thought about that before. I don’t think so. Is that a thing?”

She shrugged. “No idea. I guess it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it were, right? If you were using diapers that often anyways, what does it matter if you actually just needed to keep wearing them.”

“Probably true,” I said. “Though I doubt your body ever just…forgets how to hold it.”

“For your sake, I hope not. It’s one thing to poop your pants because your boss tells you to. It’s another to poop your pants in the middle of, like, getting your haircut because you can’t hold it.”

I swallowed hard, dreading such a scenario. “Well…I guess I should be thankful that I still have control over that sort of thing. Diapers or not.”

She had a look on her face–a look I had seen before, in The Closet. It was a mischievous look. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I said with some hesitancy.

“Does it feel good? The wet diaper?”

I nodded. “It does.”

“Do you remember the other day?” she asked. “The first time you showed me the diaper and you wet it in front of me?”

I could feel my face warming at her words. “Y-yes.”

“You got hard in your diaper,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Just a memory. A recalled observation.

I nodded again. “I…I know.”

“Does it make you hard now? Sitting there in your pissy diaper?”

I took a deep breath, nervous about where this conversation would be going. Should I be honest? Was there any reason not to be completely honest? Because up until that point, I had managed to keep my hormones at bay. I wanted to be horny about the state of my diaper, but I knew well enough to keep that to myself for the time being. But with the figurative cat out of the figurative bag, and a giant spotlight on it, I lost the ability to keep my arousal internalized. My cock was springing to life in my diaper–seemingly summoned by her question.

“It’s…exciting,” I said.

She laughed. “I keep thinking about Gabrielle changing your diaper in The Closet today. Like, I just keep replaying everything that I saw in my head.”

“Yeah…you saw some pretty crazy stuff,” I said. “Up close and personal. And you, uh, weren’t scared off?”

She shook her head. “Not really, no.” For a moment, it seemed like that was all she had to say about it, but then she added: “I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“I really liked it.” she said.

“What, uh, did you like about it?” My cock was fully erect in the diaper now, and in the Mission Control portion of my brain, the horny-meter was off the charts.

“There was something about Gabrielle’s ability to just…lead, right? She just effortlessly waltzed in and made an adult man take his pants off so she could change his diaper. It’s totally absurd, but she never treated it like it was. I dunno…I guess I had just never seen anything like it before. It was hot.”

I laughed and nodded. “Yeah…it was hot.”

“Like…putting a man into a diaper is weird. I think we can agree on that,” she said. “Being made to wear and use a diaper is weird.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

“But, damn,” she said. “I just keep thinking about it. You. Diapers. Using them. Getting changed. It’s grown on me. I really like the idea of it. All of it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I…I can relate to that.” But her admission, while not completely surprising, was still curious to me. “Do you…want to try a diaper on?”

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

“Oh,” I said, feeling a little silly for having asked.

“But,” she said, “I’d be interested in changing yours.”

“Oh.” I felt that revelation in my bones. I blushed while my cock throbbed.

“I’m not saying that I want to now. Just that…I like the idea of it. I think.”

I nodded. I was feeling overwhelmed–mostly with the need to reach into my diaper and grab my cock.

“But you’re hard now?” she asked. She had asked that before, but it occurred to me that I hadn’t really given a clear answer.

“Yes.” It didn’t get any more definitive than that.

“May I see?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Come here,” she said.

And this was what I needed. It was what I always needed–a strong woman to tell me what to do. I gladly did as she asked, sliding off my chair and onto my feet, my soggy diaper immediately sagging between my legs as I cautiously waddled to her seat.

“Oh wow,” she said, reaching to the diaper, feeling the heavy bulge that hung below me. “You really filled this up, huh?”

I nodded.

“Mommy would love this.”

I winced–not from pain, but just an overwhelming sense of desire. I loved the idea of Lyndie inspecting my dirty diaper with the intent of telling Ms. Heller–Mommy–all about what I had done.

“Should I tell her?” she asked.

I nodded.

“What do you think she’d do?”

I shrugged, honestly having no idea. Would she punish me? Take me over her knees to paddle me like a toddler? Or would she just tease me until I came in my diaper for her again?

Though, this reminded me of Mommy’s threat of chastity. The intense sexual energy I felt in my diapers and while being babied, and it would have nowhere to go after she got her device on me.

“She wants to lock me up,” I said.

“Hmm?”

“Like…chastity.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up again. “Is she threatening to put you in cock jail?”

I nodded.

Her hand was still on the sagging diaper, and she gave it a little squeeze, forcing a moan out of me. Her hand ventured up the saturated padding until she found the long lump that was my stiff manhood.

“She must think that you like your diapers too much, huh?”

“M-maybe…”

“Is that going to be hard for you?” she asked. “Pun intended. All locked up and no place to go?”

Her hand tightened on my diapered cock, and she began to stroke me through the padding. “Yes… Very.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’d be like,” she said softly, talking directly to my diaper as she leaned forward. “Your pretty Mommy will be touching your diaper, just like I am now, and you’ll want to have a little stiffy so badly. But you’ll have been denied.”

I intended to say something in the affirmative, but I offered only a pleasured grunt.

“I can smell your diaper,” she said. “It smells like pee.”

“Unh,” another pathetic moan as she continued to work my cock through the diaper.

“Is it bad that I like you in your wet diapers?”

“N-no…”

“Is it bad that I want to see you getting off while wearing a much stinkier diaper?”

“You mean, like…”

“Like if you were a smelly baby who went and pooped his pants?”

“No,” I said. “That isn’t bad.”

“You’re a good baby, aren’t you?” she cooed.

“I…I hope so,” I muttered between labored breaths. Her hand was working magic through the plastic padding.

“Mommy has such a good little boy, doesn’t she?”

“I…uhm…yes.” I would say that I was getting close, but it was probably already past that point. It was already happening.

I was coming in my diaper right in front of her.

I obviously couldn’t see my own face, but I could feel it contorting and stretching. I could only imagine how ridiculously pathetic I looked as I spurted my sticky load into the already-saturated padding.

After my moans had faded away, and we spent a few moments in silence to reflect on what had just occurred, she laughed to herself while looking up at me.

“Oops,” she said, playfully.

I sighed, a feeling of deep shame surging through my body to fill the void left by the dissipating pleasure.

I bit my bottom lip, debating whether or not I took a shot at further escalating this evening.

“Yes?” she asked, noting the gears turning in my head.

“Did you want to…like, change my diaper?”

She laughed, though it didn’t feel mocking. Maybe a little condescending, but in that maternal sort of way that Mommy was also good at. You silly baby, she seemed to say.

“Tempting. Maybe next time we play, I get your Mommy’s permission first?”

I nodded, my heart aflutter at the thought of her needing Mommy’s permission. It made me feel…owned. Goddamn, did I need to feel owned. Controlled. I knew what I really needed.

First thing in the morning, I’d ask Mommy for my chastity cage.

Thirteen

Memo to all employees: A pink baby’s pacifier was found yesterday in a 4th floor hallway. We assume it belongs to one of you fine parents who works for our organization. We’d hate to throw away your infant’s pacifier, and so if you feel you may have accidentally dropped one please stop by the main reception desk on the first floor to claim it.

Thank you!

—

I made the morning waddle across the sea of cubicles once more, a freshly flooded diaper hanging off my bottom. I had changed out of the previous night’s dirty diaper not long after Lyndie had left, and I had vowed to keep the new diaper clean for as long as I could. That lasted until I got onto the train.

The diaper’s moisture was still warm. It felt good on my skin.

“Right on time,” Ms. Heller said as I walked into her office. “A punctual baby is a good baby.”

I was thinking about lasagne on the train ride. A strange thing to think about–especially after wetting a diaper and having to sit in it. But I recalled how, when I was a kid, I loved lasagne. Yet when I wasn’t eating it, and I just thought about it, it was hard to recall what set it apart from similar dishes that I knew I didn’t have as strong feelings about. Stuffed shells. Manicotti. Even a bowl of spaghetti. What made lasagne, in particular, so amazing?

But I would instantly remember the reason when a plate of lasagne was sitting in front of me. It wasn’t just the ingredients–the same ingredients shared with many other dishes my mother and grandmother made. It was the arrangement of the ingredients. It was the way that every bite had the perfect proportion of each ingredient.

When I wasn’t around Ms. Heller, I could think about how gorgeous she was. How naughty her imagination was. How amazing she made me feel. But stepping into her office again, I was reminded that the experience of being in the same place as Mommy was something that my memories had a tough time conveying.

It was the way she talked, and her use of tones. It was her body language. The way she looked at me. There was just something about her aura that I couldn’t fully appreciate unless I was in the same room as her.

I closed the door behind me, already feeling myself practically melting in her presence.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Here for your morning change?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She said nothing and just lifted her eyebrows. I realized my error.

“Yes, Mommy,” I said.

“I got a changing pad,” she said, pulling a folded mat out from her closet. “It’s not the office nursery I’d like, but it’s a good start. Off with the shoes and pants, Baby.”

She walked out from behind her desk as she unfurled the pad into the center of the office floor–probably the exact spot I had previously messed myself at her request. Meanwhile, I quickly kicked off my shoes, not even bothering to untie them, and shoved my black slacks to the ground before stepping out of them.

“Very soggy,” she observed. “You did good to come to Mommy.”

Her approval meant everything to me. It was a small dopamine hit on top of the countless other hits I got from being in the same room with her.

I didn’t need her to tell me what to do next, I knew what was expected of a baby like me. I lowered myself to the ground, laying down on the changing pad so that she could change my diaper.

“Did you have a good night?” she asked.

My heart raced. I wonder if she knew about Lyndie coming over to my house. Did Lyndie text her? Was there some sort of secret conversation that took place in Mommy’s office this morning before I stopped in?

“It was, uhm, good,” I said, bracing myself for further inquisition.

“Good,” she said as she returned to her cabinet of baby supplies.

I took a deep breath, realizing I was being overly paranoid. There hadn’t been secret meetings or communications between Lyndie and Ms. Heller.

“Are you using your diapers at home?” she asked me.

“Y-yes,” I said. “Some.”

“Some?”

I hadn’t really thought about it as just being in diapers 24/7. Once I got home, I had options. I had the option to use the toilet if I wanted to. But now that I was laying here, waiting for my diaper to be changed, it occurred to me that it had been a few days since I last used a toilet at all. Regardless of what I could do, I was wearing–and using–my diapers full time now.

“Actually,” I said, “it’s been nothing but diapers for the last few days.”

“Are you content with that?”

“Yes,” I said, with a speedy confidence that surprised even myself.

“We need to make sure you don’t run out of diapers, then,” she said.

“Should I get more?”

“I’ve already taken care of that for you,” she said. “I pulled your address from your HR file and I have an order ready to go. You should be getting a sizable delivery very soon.”

“Th-thank you,” I said, quickly adding: “Mommy.”

I imagined that it would be Evan intercepting the delivery. For as uncertain as I was about involving him in my weird new world the night before, I was now glad that he had a heads up before he came in contact with god-knows how many boxes of adult diapers.

“We have some things to discuss today,” she said, closing the cabinet and walking back to me, arms full of supplies.

“Okay.”

“First thing’s first–have you given any thought to my job offer?”

“Yes. I mean… Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. And, how are you feeling about it?”

“Good,” I said, nodding. “I…I would very much like to be your assistant.”

She grinned, softly stroking my cheek with the back of her hand. “I am so very pleased to hear that, Clark. I don’t think you’ll regret this decision. I’ll have all the arrangements made for you today.”

Her excitement about my decision only empowered me, and I was feeling good about pleasing her.

Her hands were on my diaper, and she quickly pulled up the tapes before peeling back the front of the diaper, letting it flop onto the ground with a wet SQUISH sound.

“This is more than a job,” she said. “It's a commitment to being my baby. I do want to make sure we’re on the same page about that.”

“Yes, Mommy,” I said. “Please.”

“You’ll do as I ask? Always?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

For the first time, I noticed what she was holding–a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream. Women’s shaving cream, ‘Raspberry Haze’ scented, per the can’s label.

“We’ve talked about this before,” she said, “but I feel it’s important that we get rid of all this silly hair in your diaper area. It’s just going to get in the way. Besides, it doesn’t seem right for someone being kept in a diaper.”

I blushed at the mention of ‘diaper area,’ though I still nodded. I had forgotten about that conversation, but I didn’t disagree that the hair should go. Truthfully, I found the idea kind of exciting. She was leaving her mark on me, albeit temporarily–or until the next time she shaved away my pubic hair. Anytime after this moment, when I was to look at or feel my crotch, I’d be reminded of what she did to me.

She spread the pink cream over my dark brambley hair, covering it all. The scent–vaguely sweet and berry-ish–wafted to my nose as she let it sit for a moment as she prepared the razor.

Chastity, I thought. I need to ask her about chastity. This seemed like a good time to do it, I just needed to work up the courage to get the words out.

“My previous assistant,” she said. “Hillary?”

It occurred to me that I was feeling a pinch of jealousy when I heard that name. It was no fault of Hillary’s, I would expect their relationship to leave lasting memories with Ms. Heller. I just hoped that one day, I’d surpass however it was that Hillary made her feel.

“She got a tattoo, you know. Right here,” she continued, poking the patch of foam-coated pubic hair above my limp cock. “Well she didn’t have quite the same apparatus as you, but you know what I mean.”

I nodded. “What…sort of tattoo?”

“A pink heart,” she said. “It said ‘Mommy’ inside of it. Wasn’t that sweet? A permanent tribute to her Mommy, right on her little girl parts.”

I swallowed hard and my heart began to race. “Y-yes. Very cute.”

She laughed, likely noticing how nervous this story had made me. “I’m not asking you to get a tattoo for me. Not now, not ever. Unless you want to, of course. But that’s your prerogative. No, I’m telling you this story because I want you to know that this commitment goes both ways. You’re becoming my baby. I’m becoming your Mommy. I want you to feel so well cared for and happy that you could one day see yourself making such a permanent gesture of thanks for me without doubting it.”

I loved the sentiment, though I was curious about how Hillary felt about her tattoo now. Or her husband, for that matter. A tattoo that reads ‘Mommy’ just above her pussy wouldn’t ever be an easy thing to have to explain to anyone else.

The head of the razor was lowered onto my skin, and she began to pull it through my hair. It was that easy. No pain or burning or anything like that. Just the softest, slightest, movements and suddenly the hair was gone. One strip at a time, she reduced the pubic hair’s acreage. And then it was all gone. Bare empty skin. I hadn’t seen such a thing since I was, maybe, 12 years old. It was a small gesture, in the scheme of things, but it was an effective one. She had just removed years from my age, even if we were the only ones who knew it. For now.

She cleaned off the last remnants of cut hair and shaving cream with a baby wipe, while smiling at her handiwork. I smiled too, happy to have made a small sacrifice for her.

“Have you made any stinkies lately?” she asked.

My cheeks turned pink. I disliked the term ‘stinkies,’ though I could imagine that was exactly why she used a word like that.

“N-no, Mommy.”

“How long has it been?”

“Not since…here. In your office.”

“The day before yesterday? Clark, that’s not good at all. Not even at home? In your potty?”

Potty. I felt my cheeks warm further. I shook my head.

“You must be bursting at the seams.”

Except I didn’t think that I was. Sure, the feeling had crept up once or twice in the last day or two, but I had somehow been able to stave off the urges. But now that I was thinking about it again…I could feel some pressure down there. Maybe it was an easier thing to put off when I wasn’t thinking about it. It had been masked by the stress of humiliation–both at the hands of Mommy and Lyndie.

“I…well…”

“No excuses, Baby. You’re going to have to start filling these diapers up, do you understand? Not just your pee-pees. I expect you to be doing your poo-poos in them too.”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“I can’t watch you 24/7, Clark. So I need you to be a good boy who uses his diapers for Mommy.”

I nodded again.

“Alright, let’s get you into a new diaper.”

I already had my pacifier in my hand. I didn’t put it in my bag this morning–I put it in my pocket. I slipped the rubber bulb between my lips, noting her approving nod. Such was the routine for a diaper change, as I had been previously advised.

The old soggy blob was pulled out from under me. Already able to anticipate what she needed from me, I kept my legs open for her, giving her access to wipe up my bottom and between my legs.

And then it happened–her fingertip pressing into my backdoor. She had done this once before while changing my diaper. And as I had the last time, I let out a little moan as I felt her finger enter my ass.

But it felt…different. I couldn’t exactly say how this experience differed from the first time, but there was definitely some sort of variance.

“Baby likes his bottom being played with,” she said to herself. “Believe me, I can’t wait to spend more time with that.”

I said nothing, just biting down on the pacifier.

“I should be honest with you, Baby,” she said. “I’ve put something into you.”

I opened my mouth, letting the pacifier roll out of it and onto the floor. “Wh-what do you mean…into me?”

“I can’t have you toddling about with uncomfortable bowels. It’s not good for you. So I slipped something into your bottom to help take care of that.”

“What…was it?”

“A suppository,” she said, maintaining her evergreen sense of calm. “I keep some on hand for such situations. Hillary would get a little backed up sometimes, and she’d need some help.”

“I don’t know anything about suppositories, Ms. Heller. Er…Mommy. What’s going to happen? Is it going to…hurt?”

She laughed. “Silly baby, not at all. You may feel some cramping, but that’s just the suppository doing its job. Now, the package says it can take up to an hour to work, but in my experience, it’s usually a bit less.”

“But what happens after an hour?”

“You go,” she said. “In your case, you’ll go directly into your diaper. Probably fill the whole thing up, too.”

“B-but, Mommy…I’m at work and…”

“And I suspect you’ll be in your little broom closet when it happens. And then you’ll just come scurry over here so that I can change you. You’ll be fine.”

“But…”

“It’s too late to complain about it,” she said. “It’s in you. It’s working its magic on you as we speak. And when the time comes–regardless of where you are or what you’re doing–you’re going to fill that diaper and bring it back to me so that I can clean you up. And maybe then you’ll have learned a little lesson about making poo-poos in your diaper more regularly.”

I had more to say. More to ask. More to whine, really. But I sighed and kept my mouth shut, reaching to the side to grab my pacifier so I could put it back in my mouth again. There was no discussion to be had. She was going to do what she wanted to do, and I would let her. That’s just the way these things were going to work now.

“It’ll be easier soon,” she said, as she unfolded a fresh diaper, flattening it out on the ground. “You’ll be sitting closer to my office. You’ll be seeing me more throughout the day as my assistant. Things like diaper checks and changes will just be part of our routine.”

It all seemed impossible to grasp at this moment, as all I could really focus on was the inevitability of loading my diaper sometime soon. I took the pacifier out of my mouth again.

“Could I just stay here? Until I used my diaper? You know, like I did the other morning?”

“No can do, Baby. I have a meeting here in about ten minutes. Once I’m done, I’ll let you know. If you haven’t popped yet, you’re welcome to come back and do your business here. But if it happens before my meeting is out…well, you’ll just have to wait a few minutes.”

What else was there to say? “Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. Now then, let’s get this diaper on you.”

Soon, I was waddling back towards The Closet with a fresh diaper on. Smelling like a fresh burst of baby powder. A suppository shoved up my backside that turned me into a bomb that could go off at any moment.

I didn’t think I felt any different. Yet. But how would I know when I felt anything? What would that be like?

“Good morning, Baby,” Lyndie cooed to me as I strolled into The Closet. Funny how I had been called ‘Baby’ more than ‘Clark’ today.

I shut the door and locked it.

“You ok?” she asked, tilting her head in concern.

“I have to tell you something,” I said. “But…it’s kind of crazy. And gross.”

She laughed. “Crazier than wearing diapers for your boss? Crazier than wearing a diaper in front of the pizza delivery girl? Crazier than me pleasuring you in your diaper until…”

“Yes,” I said, cutting her off. “Probably.”

“Okay, okay,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I was just over at Mommy…er…Ms. Heller’s office.”

“Was she changing your diaper?” Lyndie asked.

I was blushing. Again. “Y-yes. But while she was doing it she…put something in me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean. She put something in you?”

“Like…her finger,” I said. “She put her finger in me and…”

“Oh, like up your bum?” she asked. She giggled. “Clark, that’s okay. It’s good to explore your body, you know? Don’t get upset if you never knew how good it felt to be touched there. I had this boyfriend once who…”

“No, no,” I said. “I mean…yes…I guess I liked that or whatever, but that’s not what I’m trying to tell you. She was pushing an object into my ass.”

“Object? A…toy?”

“Suppository,” I said.

She looked confused, and I watched her try to piece together what that meant. “Wait, but don’t people use them when they need to… Oh.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“So…you’re going to…”

“I don’t know when. All I know is that sometime soon…I’m going to…go. In my diaper.”

“And she didn’t want you to do that in her office?”

“She has a meeting.”

“So she expected you to just…do that here?”

I nodded.

“You’re going to shit your diaper here?”

I nodded again. “It has to happen here. I have to stay right here until it happens. I can’t go anywhere else, because I can’t risk anybody else seeing it happen.”

The smile had faded from her face a little as she nodded. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Maybe… I don’t want to ask too much. But maybe I could just get some privacy? Like, maybe you could leave for a little bit and come back later? I could let you know when it's done. I just don’t think I want to do this in front of you. Nor do I think you want to see me use my diaper like that.”

But suddenly the smile was back on her face again. “Are you kidding me, Clark? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m staying right here with you.”

Fourteen

“How long has it been?”

“Fifteen minutes,” I said, checking the time on my phone.

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly? I have no idea. If I feel even the slightest twitch in my gut, I can’t decide if it’s from the suppository or it’s just a normal feeling that I’m hyper-focused on.”

She laughed and shook her head.

“What?” I asked. “What is so funny?”

“Oh come on,” Lyndie said. “You don’t see the humor in all this?”

“Not from this vantage point, no.”

“Like, could you even imagine going up to another person in this office and demanding that they take off their pants so their boss can shove a suppository up their ass? And then they have to wear a diaper and shit themself in a building with hundreds of employees? Nobody would ever agree to that. Just asking someone that question would probably get them to quit.”

That was a little amusing to me. “And then there was me.”

“And then there was you,” she repeated. “You probably stuck your ass up into the air as high as you possibly could and begged for it. ‘Mommy, put it in my little tushy!’”

“Well that didn’t happen…”

“That’s how it played out in my imagination,” she said.

Mine too, though I didn’t say that. I felt a stirring somewhere in my abdomen. Different enough that it didn’t seem ‘normal.’ Maybe the first definitive sign that the suppository was doing its thing. I sighed and bit my bottom lip, nervous about how things would escalate from here.

“You’re too tense,” Lyndie said casually, sipping from her coffee cup.

“I don’t suppose you could blame me,” I said. “I’m just an unknown amount of time away from pooping my pants at work.”

“But this is what you want,” she said.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, not intending to say that out loud. I decided I might as well finish that thought out loud: “Right now? I’m terrified and worried. I just know how crushing this humiliation is going to feel. But later, in hindsight? I’ll probably feel pretty good about it all.”

“And you’ll want it again,” she said.

“Yeah. Probably.”

Another gurgle in my tummy. Intestines? I wasn’t even sure what the point of origin was, only that it happened in there somewhere. Things were happening.

Knock knock. Someone at the door. My first thought was that it was Ms. Heller. Having finished her meeting early, she came to fetch me and bring me back to her office, sparing me the humiliation of having to use this diaper anywhere else in the building.

But when I unlocked and opened the door, I was disappointed to see that it was only Anderson.

“Was the door locked?” he asked. “What the hell are you two doing in here?”

“The door gets…jammed sometimes,” I said.

When I had first started my internship here, Anderson seemed older and wiser to me. It was like being a freshman in high school and walking past the seniors. They seemed infinitely more mature in a way that I just couldn’t ever imagine being myself. But sooner or later you realized that they were just kids too, and none of you had any idea what being an adult was.

Anderson was just a young scrappy punk himself. The lowest man on the corporate totem pole.

He walked into The Closet, arms crossed in front of him.

“Hey,” Lyndie said, nodding towards him. “What's up? Got some filing for us or something?”

“I’ll tell you ‘what’s up,’” he spat. He stuck a frustrated finger out towards me. “Why did I just hear that you’re getting a full-time job here?”

“Well…I was offered it, and…”

“How?” he hissed. “How did a lowly fucking intern get offered a full-time position as the assistant for the CEO of our company? I scour the available positions every single morning in the hopes of finding a chance to move up the ranks. And you? You do absolutely nothing but are somehow getting handed a position that I’d have killed for?”

Lyndie looked to me and shrugged. “Wow. Word sure does travel fast around here.”

Anderson scoffed, maybe feeling annoyed that Lyndie was carrying on her own conversation with me instead of directly talking to him. “So how did you do it, huh? Is your father Charles Arnold? Maybe you’re somehow related to Gregory Connors?”

I had no idea who those people were, and I just shrugged.

“Did you sleep with her?” he said. “Is that what it was? Did she handpick some young little intern to manipulate into the sack?”

“Be careful,” Lyndie said. “You’re making some pretty intense accusations.”

I felt a cramp in my gut. A roiling ache that seemed to herald worse things. Please don’t fill your diaper while he’s here, I pleaded with myself.

“I just want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do to get ahead,” Anderson said, throwing his arms up into the air. “Apparently even the interns have more clout than I do now.”

Lyndie and I looked at each other, sharing the tiniest, knowing, smile. The answer? Probably something like: Just be willing to wear a diaper.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t have control over how these things work.”

Another painful cramp. After being uncertain about whether or not I was feeling the effects of the suppository, there was no doubt now. Once it started to take hold of me, things seemed to escalate quickly. I was very aware of the near-sudden intense pressure in my bowels. I could hold it, for now, but I was acutely aware that I might not have this level of control for much longer.

“Well? Should I go down to HR myself?” he asked. “Ask them to look into how an intern manages to be offered a job that I wasn’t even aware of?”

“Clark’s not your enemy,” Lyndie said.

A tiny poot escaped my bottom, mostly muffled by the thick diaper in my pants. I felt my cheeks warm at the uncontrollable burst. I doubted anyone else in the small room knew it even happened, but I knew this was just the beginning. Soon, I’d need to do a lot worse.

“What about you?” Anderson said, steering his accusatory finger to Lyndie instead. “Are you getting promoted too? Are you the new CFO? Vice President of Transportation?”

It was probably a bad time to mention that Ms. Heller had offered a possible position for her as well.

“Maybe you should talk to HR,” Lyndie said. “Take your grievances up with them.”

I wished I had the ability to say anything at all, but my lips were clenched shut and my body had become as stiff as a board. It was taking all of my energy to hold my bowels at bay. My body craved release, and I knew it was all over as soon as I let down my guard–and that guard was weakening.

Anderson shook his head. “Fine.” He spun on his heel and stormed out from our small office, slamming the door shut behind him.

“God, what the hell is up his ass?” Lyndie said immediately after, laughing to herself.

I said nothing, focused on only what my next move was going to be. Just about any move, it seemed, would spell disaster for my diaper. Such was the point, I supposed. Yet I still held out hope for a call from Ms. Heller. Mommy. She’d ask me to come down to her office, and I’d be spared the shameful walk across the office in a full diaper.

Fuck. It might have been too late for that now. Could I actually make that trip while clenching my ass this tightly?

“You okay?” asked Lyndie.

“I… I think I have to let go soon,” I said.

It was as if she had forgotten about my situation for a moment. “Huh?” And then: “Oh, right. That. That’s…happening? Soon?”

I slowly nodded.

“We both know where it’s all going to end up eventually,” she said with a shrug. “You could probably save yourself some discomfort by…just letting go.”

She wasn’t wrong. But the stinky trek across the building to Mommy’s office was still a discomfort I’d need to endure. But, yes, it was an entirely separate discomfort.

Fine. I was convinced. I needed to unload.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m really sorry about this.”

For the last twenty minutes or so, in the back of my mind, I had been trying to imagine what this moment would look like. Did I just stand there and let it happen? Did I bend over, sticking my ass into the air? Squat?

But as it turned out, any amount of thinking would have been too much. In the moment, my body just did what it needed to do. Instinctually. My legs separated as I squatted down a little. It didn’t matter that Lyndie was there, or that she even existed for that matter. In this moment, reality was just me and my diaper.

My bottom opened with an immediate and forceful load being unleashed into the diaper with a loud FWOMP. The back of the diaper expanded as far as it could in my pants–pants that were clearly never intended to hold a full diaper. Moments later, the next wave came–a sticky-sounding bubbling ripple that attempted to further fill the diaper. Vacancy was already limited, and I felt the soft mass squeezing itself anywhere it could. And then came another wave. And another after that, pathetic final squirts paired with uncontrollable grunts as I fought through the last of the cramps. Two days without using a toilet, combined with the suppository–I could only imagine the hell contained within my pants.

I don’t know how long I remained in that position. Maybe a minute. Maybe a few years.

“All done?” Lyndie finally asked from somewhere behind me.

I forgot she was there. I forgot where I was.

“I…I think so.”

“Are you…okay?” she asked. She sounded concerned.

I was checking my emotional pulse. Am I okay? I was fine. That was a lot, and most of it would go unprocessed for a while yet. I was also…disappointed. Not in myself, really. But in Lyndie’s reaction. She wanted to care for me and make sure I was alright. I absolutely appreciated that, and it was a surprising turn for The Lone Wolf. But I didn’t want to be coddled. I wanted to be humiliated and shamed.

I wanted to be destroyed.

“I’m okay,” I said, standing up straight. The heavy diaper wanted to sag, but remained pressed against me in my pants. I could feel the mess squishing and shifting within as I moved.

“Good,” she said, laughing. Some edge had returned to her voice. “Because you fucking stink.”

“Well…”

“I know,” she said, possibly reading my mind again. “I just watched it happen.”

That’s the stuff. Not that I could moan in delight or smile about it. I was very much mortified and embarrassed beyond belief. Still, I was at least able to shove this moment into my pocket. For later.

“Oh…shit,” was all that I could muster, the reality of what I had just done only just beginning to sink in.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she remarked. “I literally watched the back of your pants change shape.” She laughed, a shrill and candid giggle that I wouldn’t have expected from her–perhaps a sign that she was truly that delighted by what she had just seen.

My hands reached around my body to my backside, where I felt the lump in my pants where my diaper was. It all felt incredibly obvious to me–both the diaper and the extra lumpy part of it that most of my mess was packed into.

“Probably feels better out than in, doesn’t it” she asked. “Though I suppose this would be about the time that an actual baby would throw a little temper tantrum because he has a dirty bottom that needs changing.”

“Believe me, I would love nothing more than to throw a temper tantrum right now,” I said.

I sniffed at the air. I was already aware of the pungent odor I had introduced to the small space, but it took a minute or two for me to truly realize just how toxic it was. I slowly turned around to face her, finding her hands were covering her mouth and nose–likely to both muffle her laughter and an attempt to protect herself from the smell of my diaper.

“She expects you to waddle through the office now? Like that?”

I sighed. “I guess? But I don’t even see how that’d be possible. I can’t leave this room. Ever.”

She laughed again. “You’ll have to eventually, stinkybutt.”

There was a ringing sound at that moment, one that neither of us were familiar with. We looked around the room, trying to figure out where it was coming from. Had I set off some sort of security system? Was someone, somewhere, watching me fill my pants and decided that something had to be done?

“It’s the office phone,” Lyndie said, pointing to the mostly-ignored object in the corner of the room. We had all but forgotten it existed, on account of us never needing it before.

I carefully waddled towards the phone. It was a pathetic series of uncertain steps, each sloshing around the contents of my diaper further. I already knew who would be on the phone–there was only one person it could be. Ironic timing, really, but this seemed par for the course in the humiliating cosmic scheme being laid out for me.

“Hello?” I said into the receiver, nervously bringing it to my face.

“Well, Baby?” she cooed from the other end of the line. “How is your diaper holding up?”

“I…did it.”

“Did you now? And just what was it that you did?”

I sighed, looking at Lyndie again as she pinched her nostrils shut and waved away the air in front of her face. “I…well…you know…”

“Oh, come now. Don’t be so timid with your Mommy. You can tell me anything.”

“But you already know–”

“Yes, but I asked you to tell me anyway,” Ms. Heller said. I could almost hear the amused smile on her face as she said this.

“I…went in my diaper,” I said. Cue Lyndie’s giggling again.

“Went?”

“Pooped,” I said, trying again. But I already knew that wasn’t the exact answer she wanted. I tried again: “I pooped my diaper.”

She offered a satisfied hum. “That’s what I wanted to hear. I bet you made a stinky mess for me to clean up, yes?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Well then, you’ll be happy to know that my office is available now if you want to bring your dirty bottom over here.”

“I…I don’t know if I can do that,” I said.

“No?”

“I just…it was a lot. Like, I really filled my diaper. And it smells terrible. I don’t think there’s any way I could possibly walk to your office like this. Everyone would know immediately.”

“You think so?” she asked. “What is it that you think they’d know?”

“That…I pooped my pants...”

“Accidents happen,” she quickly replied.

“I…think they’re usually frowned upon when you’re an adult. At work.” I hoped that she wasn’t that far removed from normal societal practices.

“I’m teasing,” she said. “But, if you refuse to come to me, that does create a bit of a pickle.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “How so?”

“Well, I’m due on a conference call in about five minutes, so me coming to you wouldn’t be an option, I’m afraid. I’d be happy to change your dirty diaper on the floor of my office if you’re brave enough to make the trip, of course.”

“But…I can’t.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait,” she said. There was very little sympathy in her voice. If I were to have guessed, I’d say she was smiling.

“Oh…it won’t be anytime soon, Baby. Mommy has lots of important calls to make and meetings to be in.”

I certainly needed to be reminded of my place, and her condescending tone certainly did the trick. I was a little boy again–maybe more literally than I’d care to admit. I wanted to crawl behind her, tugging on her apron. Or, pantsuit.

“What am I supposed to do? Please, M-Mommy. My diaper…”

“If you can get yourself to my office in the next hour, I have a fresh diaper waiting for you. And if you choose to remain there, in your little closet, you’d be waiting a few hours until I can go to you.”

“What if…I changed my own diaper?” I asked.

“No,” she said, sternly. “I’m afraid that won’t be an option. You’re too little to change your own diaper.”

“What? Too…little?” I felt myself growing smaller and smaller. She had an extraordinary way of making me feel tiny. “But…”

“I can only imagine the terrible mess you’ve made of yourself,” she said. “I don’t think you’d be able to clean that up all by yourself.”

“I know. That’s why I need you.”

I could hear a soft and approving moan over the phone. She clearly loved to hear of my depencey on her.

“There may be another option,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Is your friend there? The other intern? Lyndie, I believe.”

I looked over to where Lyndie stood, still covering her nose. I swallowed hard, already dreading where this was going. “Y-yes,” I said.

“Baby, would you be a doll and hand the phone to her?”

I felt that paralyzing fear throughout my body again. I nodded, quickly realizing that Ms. Heller wouldn’t be able to see that over the phone. “Yes…”

I slowly extended my arm towards Lyndie, the phone in my outstretched hand for her. I watched Lyndie’s eyebrows lift, curious and excited to see what this was all about.

“She would like to speak to you,” I said.

“With pleasure,” she said, taking the phone from me.

Almost immediately, I was out of the loop. Disconnected. I was a child, only able to listen in as the grown-ups talked, missing all the context and nuance that they had.

“Good morning,” Lyndie said. “How can I assist?”

Assist. My heart pounded as I tried to think of all the ways that Ms. Heller might ask Lyndie to ‘assist’ me.

“Oh yes,” Lyndie said, responding to something I wasn’t privy to. “I haven’t seen it for myself but it certainly smells like he’s made a pretty big mess of his diaper.”

On the other end of the phone, Ms. Heller was talking. I couldn’t hear a word of it, though I could hear the muffled tone of her voice emanating from the phone.

“If you’d like me to, I could certainly do my best,” Lyndie said. “I have to be honest–I’ve never done anything like that before.”

More muffled tones from Ms. Heller. Whatever it was, it was long-winded. All the while, Lyndie nodded along, occasionally interjecting an affirmative “Yes'' or “I understand.” Occasionally she’d look at me, smiling.

What? What are you two talking about?

Finally: “Thank you, Ms. Heller. I completely agree with you. And if that’s how it ends up going, I won’t let you down.” A pause for Ms. Heller to say a few words. Then: “We’ll be in touch, I’m sure. Goodbye.”

She calmly hung up the phone before turning to me, arms crossed. Enormous smile.

“Well?” I asked. “Wh-what did she say?”

“I suspect you already know most of it,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “She’s not able to come over here to change your diaper. Well…not for a while, at least. And even if you did want to wait, she doesn’t think that’s a very good idea. She feels you’d almost certainly get a diaper rash.”

My cheeks reddened, just thinking about the idea of being an adult with a diaper rash.

“So,” she continued, “she thinks the other options would be either for you to just go to her office now…”

“No way,” I said. “I can’t do that. I just can’t! Smelling like this? Everyone would know I crapped my pants immediately. I’d be laughed out of the building. But you said ‘options,’ right? What is my other option?”

“Well…”

“C’mon,” I said, practically begging. “What else did she suggest?”

“She suggested that I be the one to change your diaper,” Lyndie said.

“N-no…”

“And, personally, I think that’s a great idea, don’t you? How about I lock the door again, and you take your pants off for me.”

Fifteen

“You don’t want to do that, do you?” I asked.

“I know I’ve been pretty vocal against changing diapers previously. But Gabrielle has sort-of changed my mind on that a little. I’m seeing the appeal.”

“I…but…” I paused, taking a deep breath before starting over again. “This isn’t like yesterday when I just wet my diaper. I filled this thing. To the brim.”

“Oh, believe me,” Lyndie said. “I’m very aware of that.”

“And you still want to…change my diaper?”

The words should have been easy to say at this point. It felt like the only thing I had talked about the last few days. Diapers. Diaper changes. Wetting. Messing. Pacifiers. Baby. Mommy. Actual parents probably didn’t talk about diapers as much as I did. Yet I still found myself getting caught up in the words when I had to say them out loud. Especially with Lyndie.

“Is it a dream come true for me to wipe up your poopy bottom? No, I can’t say that it is. But your Mommy–she can be a very convincing woman.”

I didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, though I was quite curious. What did ‘convincing’ look like? Money? A position? Or was Ms. Heller just that charismatic that she could make someone agree to change a grown man’s dirty diaper?

“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t have to change you. You’re still welcome to waddle your dirty caboose all the way over to Mommy’s office. Or, you know, wait for her. Both, admittedly, don’t sound all that fun to me. And, I have to be honest, if you’re going to just sit here in your stinky pamper and wait, I’m probably going to leave. I’m worried that at some point I’m going to smell like your diaper myself.”

There were a lot of options to weigh, and even though I had been constantly scrolling through them in my head, I needed one more round. Walk through the office, with my diaper in this disastrous state. Wait for Mommy, all the while sitting in my dirty diaper. Or…allow Lyndie to change me.

Or? I could call it quits. I could end the game. Rip off my diaper, do my best to clean myself up without anyone else’s help. That would, I was pretty sure, end this humiliating and fantastical ride. If I wasn’t going to play by Mommy’s rules, I wasn’t going to get to play at all.

Tempting. But…I wasn’t done playing.

“Okay,” I said. “Fine.”

She shrugged. “Fine? Which option is fine?”

Fuck, I was going to have to say it out loud. “I think it’d be best if…you changed my diaper?”

She nodded. “I think that’s probably the best choice.”

“It’s going to be messy,” I said again. I felt like it beared repeating, over and over. The actual question I was trying to ask was: Are you sure you can handle it?

“Your Mommy said something quite inspirational yesterday,” she said. “Something like: There will never be a mess so bad that you can’t just wash your hands after. So? Let’s get our hands dirty.”

Let’s get our hands dirty. It was so blase. So nonchalant. She could’ve been talking about an arts and crafts project or planting some vegetables in a garden.

“Okay,” I said, nodding. I was doing my best to compose myself.

“First thing’s first, maybe we get your pants off,” she said.

I nodded, sliding my shoes off my feet before unbuckling my pants. This had to have been a record-breaking number of times an employee had taken his pants off in front of his co-workers in a short amount of time. Once again, my pants were sliding down my legs.

The full diaper, free from being bound in place by my pants, sank between my legs with a heavy flop. Having a good amount of the mess pulled away from my skin came as a little relief, but this new configuration somehow felt even more embarrassing. That shameful sag, the backside of my diaper completely filled.

She pointed to the top of our table. “Why don’t you hop on up here. The changing table.”

I carefully climbed atop the table’s surface once more, again thankful for the industrial-grade construction that allowed it to hold me up. I could only imagine a scene where the table gave out at this point–paramedics arriving on the scene, only to find me and my bloated diaper stuck in the pieces of broken wood and metal.

“Bear with me,” she said. “I’m new to this.”

“I think I am too,” I said.

“I pooped my pants once a few years ago,” she said, beginning to carefully peel back the diaper’s tapes.

“R-really?”

“It was a night of bad decisions,” she continued, laughing. “I was young and stupid. Well–younger and stupider, I guess. I snuck into this party I wasn’t invited to. Drank too much shitty beer. Ate too much shitty food. There was this guy at the party who I was flirting with on and off. No idea who he was, you know? But in the state I was in, I was in love with this guy.”

I felt privileged to get any sort of peek into Lyndie’s past, even if it came while she changed my loaded diaper.

She carefully tugged at the front of my diaper to lift it up from my body. I could sense her hesitation. Not that I blamed her–I wouldn’t want to see what was under there either. I half-expected this to be the moment that she bailed, running from the room in the hopes of finding fresh air. Maybe a toilet to throw up in.

No. She persevered. Of course, she didn’t look happy about what she found, but she did appear to be determined. She shook her head while waving away the newly unleashed fumes.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” she said, laughing to herself. “I’m almost worried I’m in over my head here.”

My heart sank. Was it even worse than I thought?

Still, she pulled the package of baby wipes out of my bag, setting them on the table and opening them up. She wasn’t discouraged.

“It’s alright,” she said, mostly to herself. “Just getting our hands dirty.” Her attention shifted back to my face, and she smiled. “First things first, I think we need to get this dirty diaper out of the way.”

While it may have been relatively new to me too, I wasn’t without experience. I knew what Mommy would expect for me to do right now. I lifted my legs and bottom into the air, giving her the clearance to remove the diaper and clean my backside easier.

“So where were we?” she asked. “Oh right, so there was this guy I was in love with–while drunk and full of terrible food. I’m feeling pretty gross, right? But I’m drunk enough to think that I can just ignore the fact that this trashy food just isn’t agreeing with me.”

She had drawn a damp wipe from the package and had begun the arduous task of wiping away the caked on filth between my legs. It was somehow more mortifying to watch Lyndie do it than it was when Mommy had. It came down to confidence, I think. Mommy seemed unphased by what she found in a diaper–like she had seen it a thousand times before. Perhaps she had. But this was Lyndie’s very first rodeo, and I had given her a real doozy of a bull to contend with.

But she pressed on, one wipe at a time. Little bit by little bit, she was cleaning me up.

“I’m trying to act all cute and flirty,” her story continued. “You can probably guess, but I’m not normally very flirty, nor am I good at it. I doubt alcohol-enhanced me is any better. And I can feel it in my belly, you know? That sort of urgency where you’re, like, ‘Well, shit, I need to do something about this.’ But I don’t. I just keep talking to him.

“And suddenly, it happens. I guess? I don’t even know because I think it barely registered with me. I felt something happening in my pants, and my stomach felt a little less stressed, but I wasn’t able to connect the dots. And so this guy is, like, ‘Lyndie, I think you just shit your pants?’”

I was captivated by her story. I was just trying to imagine it happening. Lyndie, standing there and talking to a guy while she unloaded into her pants. I tried to imagine her–the brash and independent Lyndie that I knew now–reacting to the man she had a crush on telling her that she just pooped in her pants.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I think, for a minute, I tried to play it off real cool, you know? Like, ‘Nah, man, it’s all good.’ But then I started to smell myself. And I sobered up pretty quickly. So I ran out of the party. And I didn’t drive myself there, I walked. So I had to hoof it all the way back home, my pants completely destroyed.”

Now I was thinking about her sneaking across town, hiding behind cars and shrubs as she jumped from one block to the next in an effort to keep her filthy pants a secret.

This story, as it turned out, was rather arousing. I didn’t want to look to confirm, but…I could feel myself growing hard.

“Well well well,” Lyndie said, chuckling as another wipe was run between my legs. She playfully batted at my swollen member. “Which is doing it for you? My dirty story or getting your own mess cleaned up?”

“Neither hurts,” I said truthfully.

“What a naughty little baby. You’re clearly a good fit for your Mommy, you know?”

I nodded. Believe me, I know.

“I think we got most of the yuckies off your bottom,” she said. She had taken a bottle of hand sanitizer out of her purse and had squirted a blob into her hands, which she rubbed together. “I think I’d like a second opinion, though. Gabrielle will have to tell me how I did when she inspects you later. Assuming you don’t mess yourself again before she sees you.”

I blushed at the very thought of having an ‘accident’ like this one again on the same day. Hearing her mutter the word ‘yuckies’ certainly didn’t help.

“Did…you get home?” I asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your story,” I said. “Did you get home without being caught again? And the people from the party? Did they…make fun of you for pooping your pants?”

“I made it home without further incident,” she said, smiling. “Much to your dismay, I’m sure. And, the little humiliation fiend that you are, you probably won’t like that there’s really not that much else to the story. Like I said, I snuck into a party I wasn’t invited to. And I wasn’t exactly popular, so I don’t think many people noticed I was even there. I had heard stories later about the drunk girl who shit herself in the backyard. But nobody knew it was me.”

My cock was throbbing, just thinking about it. All of it. Her story. My increasingly absurd situation. It all excited me. It all made me crave…more.

Her fingers were suddenly wrapping around my cock. I moaned, unconsciously thrusting my hips up into the air, as if some pathetic effort to fuck her hand.

“Whoa boy,” she cooed, giggling. “Baby sure does have a libido, huh?”

I shrugged, a little ashamed of my hormones being so obvious.

“Well, she hasn’t locked you up yet.” She repeated the phrase she had used in my apartment the night before: “Cock jail.”

“N-no,” I said nervously. “Not yet.”

“But your days are numbered?” she asked, gently stroking my shaft. “Not much longer now, and she’ll have you locked up good and tight.”

“Probably…”

“Where do you think she’ll put the key?” Lyndie asked. “I’ve seen women online, they wear the keys on a chain around their neck. It’s kind of cute, I guess. I’m not sure it works for all women. Gabrielle doesn’t strike me as the key-around-neck type.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “We haven’t talked about that much.”

Lyndie’s hand continued to glide up and down my shaft. Slowly, and not too tightly. But she had a loose rhythm–she certainly knew what she was doing.

“Some men can still have an orgasm, even after their cock is in a cage,” she said. “Did you know that?”

I shook my head.

“All it takes is a finger or two. A toy even. You just go up baby’s bottom and wiggle it around a bit in just the right spot and…voila.”

My breathing had grown heavier as she casually stroked me. I was panting. Moaning. My mind was in a thousand places at once. I was thinking of my messy diaper. Lyndie’s messy pants. Ms. Heller easing her finger into my backdoor again until I climaxed with my cage on.

“Do you like having your bottom played with?” Lyndie asked.

“I…think? It’s new to me.”

She laughed. “Well make sure you ask her to try it out after she gets you fitted for your cage.”

I said nothing, just moaning again as her hand continued to slide up and down my skin. She was bringing me close to the edge.

My head gently rolled to its side, looking at the door, still closed and locked. On the other side of that door, people were working. I imagined that there was some guy, at some cubicle, and he was working on finishing a report to meet a deadline. He hates his job. He hates having to come to the office everyday. He doesn’t get enough respect and he doesn’t get paid what he thinks he’s owed. And he’s just yards away. Feet, even. So close to where I was, getting my cock rubbed after I had just filled a diaper and needed to be changed.

That was my job. Being a baby. Being humiliated. Getting turned on and relieved. And the only meaningful assignment I had been given today was to mess my diaper.

By this metric, I was a model employee.

“Fuck,” I said. “Gonna…I have to…”

My cock spurt its load, the white goo lazily cascading back down my cock and onto the smooth skin my manly pubic hair had once occupied. It was gone now–my manhood having been revoked.

“You’re in luck,” she said, drawing another wipe from the package on the table. “A baby is never far from its wipes, right?”

She cleaned up this new mess, adding in a few extra swipes to make sure she had thoroughly cleaned everything she had gone over before.

“Ready for a new diaper?”

Always. “Please.”

“This is the easy part,” she said, taking a fresh diaper out of my bag. “I’ve never done it before, of course. But I figure it all has to be easier than cleaning your ass.”

Fair enough. I was still reeling from the orgasm. I wasn’t entirely in my body, or even entirely in this room. I was floating around–somewhere between pure ecstasy and crippling humiliation–even if the two were getting more closely connected all the time.

“All done,” she said. Her words grounded me, and I had to shake my head in confusion.

“Done?” I looked down the length of my body, seeing the fresh diaper was already wrapped around me and taped shut.

“Easy peasy,” she said. “You ought to get your pants back on.”

I slowly rolled to the edge of the table and eased myself. I was still feeling dazed when my feet hit the ground.

“Can I be honest?” Lyndie asked.

“I assume you usually are,” I remarked.

She laughed, offering an agreeable shrug. “True. But, I’m kind of liking this whole baby thing.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. It’s not quite like having an actual baby–for pretty obvious reasons. So it’s more like having a doll? You can dress it up and do whatever you want to it. And, sure, sometimes you have to clean it up, but that’s part of the fun, I guess.”

I sighed, imagining myself just sitting on a shelf with other dolls, waiting to be picked up and played with.

“Careful,” I said. “Next, you’ll want an actual infant of your own.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that,” she said. “But I could get behind having a big adult baby of my own.”

The concept certainly seemed to be catching on. Ms. Heller. Lyndie. Evan. Even Pizza-Girl’s amused smile–or at least, that’s how I remember it. I kept getting exposed, and yet I never seemed to be met with disgust or anger. Everyone seemed to like it. Love it. They embraced it and wanted more of it. Was the idea of infantilizing a man that exciting?

Or did it just make sense when it came to me? Oh, that’s Clark. He belongs in diapers. Honestly, it’s amazing that he went this long without being treated like the baby he is.

“I will be leaving that to you,” she said, pointing at the old diaper, still sitting on top of the table, wide open–stink lines practically emanating off of it. I could see that every single wipe she had used to clean my bottom had been deposited into it. It appeared that many were needed, more than I had expected.

“Right,” I said with a little nod. “Thank you for…changing me.” The words felt strange coming out of my mouth.

“Of course,” she said. “Now, I’m going to wash my hands. Like, four times. Then I’m going to get some more coffee. And then I’m going to sit outside in the fresh air for, like, an hour. I’ll see you later.”

After she closed the door behind her, I took a deep breath before slowly exhaling. Admittedly, the air I was taking in was tainted, and post-climax it seemed much less novel to me, but it was still a much-needed feeling of being reset.

I didn’t want to look into the diaper. I didn’t want to know how bad it was, or how much work I had created for Lyndie. I tried to look just above it as I reached down and rolled it up into a ball. When I was finished, I held the heavy shameful package in my hand, humbled by how this literal blob of garbage had caused so much trouble for me.

I had no idea how I’d transport it out of The Closet. And once I left with it, where would I even take it? A dumpster outside, probably. Preferably far from wherever Lyndie was.

Actually, I realized I needed some fresh air myself. I tossed the diaper into my bag, threw the bag over my shoulder, and hoped that the room smelled better by the time I got back.

Sixteen

From: Gabrielle Heller <gheller@xxxxxxxxx>

Date: Thursday, March 24 at 11:46 AM

To: Clark Ashburn <cashburn@xxxxxxxxx>

Cc: Lyndie Brown <lBrown@xxxxxxxxx>

Subject: New Assistant Orientation

Hey Clark,

Congratulations on becoming my new assistant! I think we’re going to work well together, don’t you?

At 2:00 PM today, I’m holding a meeting in the 12th floor conference room and I’d love for you to be there. This will be a good opportunity to meet some of the executives, and their assistants, that you’ll be seeing more of in the months ahead.

Lyndie, I hope that you’ll be there too.

-G

***

“You look nervous,” Lyndie said, pressing the elevator’s ‘12’ button. The door slowly closed, sealing us inside.

“Can you blame me?” I asked. “Who knows how many of these ‘executives’ know about the baby stuff?”

“Or will know eventually,” added Lyndie with a little smirk.

“You’re not helping.”

The closer the elevator got to the 12th floor, the quicker my heart rate became. Who would be waiting for me in this conference room? More importantly: What would I be expected to do in front of them?

“If it helps,” Lyndie said, “I’m a little nervous myself.”

“You too?”

“Well, I’m not walking into a room of executives with a diaper on under my pants…”

“Thank you for the reminder.”

“...but it’s still a little nerve-racking. I mean, regardless of whether or not I like these people or respect their 6-digit salaries, that’s a lot of power in one place, right? I still feel like I need to make a good impression.”

“You just don’t want to be polite,” I teased.

“Probably not. Well, if you see me struggling, maybe you could just go and poop your pants for me or something. Take the attention off of me?”

“All pooped out, I’m afraid,” I said.

Despite having been put into a fresh diaper and spending some time outside after, I felt like I could still smell that foul nasty odor on me. I wondered if it was just in my imagination, or if the stench had somehow been absorbed into my clothing or pores.

“Do I still smell?” I asked.

She leaned in close to me, taking a sniff or two around me. I could smell her and her fresh application of body spray. Something lavender-y.

“I think you’re good,” she said, her tone almost suggesting that it was actually a question. “I think my nose is still fucked up from being so close to ground zero for a while earlier. But I think you’re good.”

I blushed and shrugged. Even if I was carrying around some unwanted scent with me, there was very little I could do about it.

The elevator dinged, indicating we had reached our destination. I almost wanted to reach out and grab Lyndie’s hand. I resisted–I needed to remember that, despite the diapers, I was still an adult. A young adult? The youngest adult.

We walked down the hallway to the entrance of the large conference room. The doors were closed, and we could hear muffled sounds coming from inside. Whatever was going on in there had already started. Any hope of sneaking into the room without drawing much attention to myself was squashed.

I took a deep breath. “Well, here goes nothing…”

I opened the door.

While I had no idea what I was expecting, I certainly wasn’t expecting this. It was so surprising– so overwhelming–that it was as if I had gone blind. My brain just decided to stop processing the things I was seeing. I needed to look at Lyndie and read her reaction for a better idea of how I was supposed to act. But her jaw had dropped open, and her eyes had grown large.

So it wasn’t just me–this was wild.

“And there he is, ladies and gentleman!” proclaimed Ms. Heller, standing at the far end of the conference room. “My new assistant, Clark Ashburn!”

Everyone was applauding and cheering.

I was looking around the room again, my vision coming back to me so that I could try and take it all in again.

This wasn’t a meeting, it was a baby shower. Across the wall behind Ms. Heller was a pastel blue banner with soft pink letters reading: “CONGRATULATIONS! IT’S A BOY!” Pink and blue crepe-paper streamers were strung back and forth between the walls. Balloons in the shapes of baby bottles, rattles and diapers.

A room of strangers, maybe 10 or so in total including Lyndie and I. Men and women in a range of ages, all dressed in their normal business attire–all of them staring at me and smiling as they clapped.

Ms. Heller left her desk at the long table and approached me, a baby blue sash in hand, She draped it over my head to hang it on my shoulder and across my body. ‘BABY BOY’ it read.

“I’m so glad you made it, darling,” she cooed to me. “Come, I want to introduce you to everyone.”

I glanced over at Lyndie one last time, hoping to still see that look of dumbfounded surprise that I felt. But she was smiling now, clearly amused by what was unfolding.

Ms. Heller took me by the hand, leading me up towards the head of the conference room table that she had been at when we entered. We began at the first chair on the left of hers, where the familiar face of Neve Beaufort was waiting.

“I believe you’ve already met Ms. Beaufort,” Ms. Heller said. “Our VP of Product Development?”

“Y-yes,” I said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Beaufort.”

She smiled, taking my hand in hers and shaking it firmly. “Gabrielle has been talking about you a lot. She’s so incredibly happy that you’ve joined us. Which, in turn, makes me incredibly happy. It is my hope that I get to see more of you.”

I nodded politely. “Thank you, ma’am. Likewise.”

“And sitting next to her,” Ms. Heller said, “is Ava Barton. She is Ms. Beaufort’s assistant. She’s a wonderful young woman. Cute as a button too, don’t you think?”

I felt my cheeks warming as I offered a slight nod in Ava’s direction. “Yes…”

“Mr. Ashburn and I met in the hall the other day,” Ava said to Ms. Beaufort. “So he kind of already knows that…” her voice trailed off, as if uncertain that she wanted to say it aloud.

“...the both of you wear diapers?” Ms. Beaufort said, finishing the thought for her. “Well that’s good. Avoids having an awkward conversation about it now.”

Ava’s face had gone as ghastly as I worried mine had. Ms. Heller was quick to notice though.

“Oh, no need to worry,” she said to the both of us. “I can assure you that everyone else in this room is already well aware of your diapers.”

This might have been the worst case scenario.

“Next, I’d like to introduce you to Darren Yang, he’s our CFO.”

While I probably wouldn’t call him ‘young,’ there was a youthfulness to him. He was fit. Clean shaven, well groomed and even better dressed. He looked like a model.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man.” He also took my hand and shook it with a strong grip that I almost couldn’t release myself from until he chose to let go.

“It is nice to meet you as well, sir.”

“I’m not sure if you know this or not, but Gabrielle here tends to be pretty picky when it comes to her assistants,” he said, his voice carrying a nonchalant smugness. “So you should feel pretty proud to have been chosen for this position.”

“I…I do, yes. It’s very much an honor.”

“You have to forgive him,” Ms. Heller said to the man, her hand resting on my shoulder like a parent trying to sooth their anxious child. “He’s rather new to this. He’ll come around.”

“They all do,” Mr. Yang said. “Sooner or later.”

We moved down to the next seat at the table. “And this is Megan Markley,” Ms. Heller said. “She’s Darren’s assistant.”

“And my pride and joy,” Mr. Yang interjected. I had no idea what that even meant.

Megan was beautiful, to a degree that seemed almost uncanny. Her hair seemed too perfect. Her vibrant makeup. Even her stunning black dress seemed mismatched for the environment–it felt better suited for a banquet than it did for just another day of work. It was hard to believe that she was an assistant and not a model pulled from an advertising campaign.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Megan said with a girlish curtsy.

“And you,” I said, nodding. I wanted to look back at Lyndie again. I was dying to know what her reaction to all this was. But I kept my eyes focused where Ms. Heller wanted me to for the moment. I wanted to seem committed and engaged.

There was so much to take in, and it was all speeding past me. I wanted to know more about Megan, but I was being ushered forward to the next seat.

“And here we have Nancy Tamberlin,” said Ms. Heller. This was a name I knew I had seen before, but I couldn’t think of the context. “She’s our Director of Human Resources.”

Oh shit, I thought to myself. For one, that was probably where I had seen her name before–in the documentation for my internship. But, too, if the head of HR was involved in this weird little corporate game, it certainly seemed to suggest that these executives had some protection on their side. Perhaps this also explained the speed at which I was able to have my new position given to me.

“Hello,” I said to her. She was a little older, in her 50s, I’d guess. But there was a difference between normal-50s and rich-executive-50s. There was a healthy radiance about her, and a confident stance that rivaled Ms. Heller’s.

“Good afternoon, little boy,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “We’re all so happy that you could join us.”

I felt myself blushing again, hearing the executives giggling and chuckling at her little boy comment.

“Then, of course, we have Nancy’s assistant,” continued Ms. Heller. “This is Bradley Cobb.”

“H-hi,” Bradley said. It was a familiar sight–a young and naive look about him that reminded me of my own face when I looked into a mirror.

“You won’t find any diapers under his pants,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “Don’t get me wrong, he’d probably look adorable in them. But I’m not interested in changing them.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said to Bradley. I tried to make eye-contact with him, hoping to signal that we weren’t that different. We could be allies. He nodded, smiling, but said nothing else.

“He’s a little shy,” Ms. Heller said to me. “Well, with strangers. Nancy claims that he can eat her out for hours at a time. Not a bad skill to have, if you ask me. You two ought to connect and talk about that at some point.” This elicited more laughter.

I was then led to the last person around the table, a young woman sitting by herself with nobody sitting next to her.

“And last, but certainly not least, we have Troy Morris, our VP of Logistical Analysis. He’s a newcomer to our little group, and he doesn’t yet have an assistant of his own. But don’t you worry, we’re keeping our eyes open for someone who can be a perfect fit.”

“Good to meet you kid,” Mr. Morris said. He was a handsome man with some strong fatherly energy. Maybe it was his beard. To Ms. Heller, he said: “You gonna let me borrow him sometime? I’ll help break him in.”

“He’s delicate,” Ms. Heller said, laughing. “He’s not your type.”

I wondered what that meant his type would actually be, then.

“As a little bit of a bonus,” Ms. Heller said, leaving my side and walking over towards Lyndie, “there’s someone else I wanted to introduce everyone to. This is Lyndie Brown. She’s another intern, like Clark was. However, in a very short time, I’ve come to really admire her willingness and dedication in completing some tasks I’ve given to her. And I think we all might have a need for someone like her. I’m proposing a promotion for this young lady as well.” She turned to Lyndie directly. “Would you be interested in a full time position with the company?”

Lyndie nodded. “You certainly have my attention. What sort of position are we talking about? I’m not sure I’m the assistant-type…”

“No,” Ms. Heller said, laughing. “I don’t think so either. But we’d be putting some of those maternal skills of yours to good use.”

Maternal skills? Was she talking about how Lyndie changed my diaper earlier in the day?

“I’d like you to become our official babysitter,” Ms. Heller said. The other execs cheered and nodded at this announcement.

“Babysitter?” asked Lyndie.

“Well, we wouldn’t actually call you a babysitter. We’d give you some fancy title. Liaison to the Executive Team. Coordinator for Assistant Relations. I don’t know…we’ll workshop the name. But I think we could use someone in this position. Someone to check in with the assistants and to make sure their needs are being met during the day.

Neve Beaufort nodded. “Having less diapers to change could give me more time to direct my team.”

“And if it means I don’t have to change him, maybe it means that I start giving Bradley diapers to wear,” Nancy Tamblerlin said. Bradley’s face turned a deep pink color.

“What do you think?” Ms. Heller asked Lyndie.

Lyndie laughed, shaking her head in astonishment. I tried to predict how she’d answer, but I really had no idea what she was thinking. On one hand, she seemed to hate the corporate world, and this was an invitation for her to join it. On the other…she seemed to be enjoying her time spent with me in a diaper, and this was a lot more of that.

“I…I would be honored,” she said, laughing as if she could barely believe she was agreeing to this herself.

“Congratulations,” Ms. Heller said. “You’re our new Executive Babysitter.”

“And for your first order of business,” said Ms. Beaufort, I’ve got a little girl here who has been sitting in her soggy diaper for longer than she should’ve been.

I watched Ava’s face redden as she looked down to avoid making eye contact. There were a few more laughs and giggles erupting throughout the room.

“Aww, did you pee-pee in your diaper again, sweetie?” cooed Ms. Heller. She turned to me: “She does this all the time. The amount of money this company spends on diapers just for her is unbelievable.”

“I can certainly help with that,” Lyndie said.

“You can use my office,” Ms. Beaufort said to Lyndie. “Ava can show you the way.”

Ava slowly stepped away from her chair, walking past Lyndie to the door. Lyndie followed her and they were both gone soon after, the door closing behind them.

“Ah damn,” Ms. Heller said, shaking her head. “I should’ve checked your diaper too, Clark.”

“I…uhm…I’m fine.”

“Never trust a baby,” Ms. Beaufort said. “They’ll always insist they’re dry.”

“She’s right, of course,” Ms. Heller said. “Clark, be a good boy and pull your pants down for Mommy.”

“H-here?”

“Clark,” she said, doing her best to maintain a cheery disposition, while also adding a little sternness to her tone, “as my assistant, it is important that you follow all of my directions, at all times. Even if they make you nervous.”

“Your Mommy wouldn’t make you do anything that she didn’t think was safe,” added Troy Morris–the man who seemed to embody the concept of Daddy.

‘Safe’ was one thing. Humiliating was another, and that was what I was more concerned about. But it wasn’t like I was going to storm out of the room. As scary as it was, I still wanted all of this. And if Ava could do it–and Megan, and Bradley–then so could I.

I obediently unbuckled my belt and pushed my pants down my legs. It wasn’t the first time I had done that at work today, but it was certainly the first time I had a bigger audience for it.

“I thought you said you were dry,” said Ms. Heller, crouching down a little to inspect my diaper in front of the room.

In all fairness, I had said ‘fine,’ not dry. But she certainly wouldn’t want to hear that argument. I had, in fact, wet my diaper again–somewhere around the time Lyndie and I were walking towards the elevator to come to this meeting. It didn’t feel like a heavy wetting at the time, but I was sure that the diaper looked visibly wet, judging by the amused giggles spreading throughout the boardroom table.

“Go on then,” Ms. Heller said to me. “You’ll have to run and catch up with Lyndie and Ava. Tell Lyndie that she’ll need to take care of your diaper too.”

“Y-yes…” I wanted to say ‘ma’am,’ but by the time I got to the word, something else entirely slipped out, “...Mommy.”

But Ms. Heller’s eyes seemed to be beaming, and she leaned forward, kissing me on the forehead. It was all I needed, really. It was like being blessed by an angel–it was the motivation I’d need to do anything she ever asked me to do.

“Go. Get your diaper changed, Baby.”

I immediately ran out the door.

Seventeen

I had no idea where Neve Beaufort’s office was, and I was worried that I was too late as I scrambled out of the conference room. If I had missed Lyndie and Ava, I’d probably never find them. Worse, I’d probably have to go back to the conference room and tell Ms. Heller–and likely the whole room–that I had failed, and was still wearing a wet diaper.

Thankfully, I found them waiting in the hall for an elevator.

“What are you doing here?” Lyndie asked.

“Well…Ms. Heller thought that maybe I should follow you two, to–you know–see how things are going and…uh…”

“Or,” Lyndie countered, “do you just need a diaper change yourself?”

“Bingo,” said Ava.

“Yeah,” I said, releasing a defeated sigh.

Just in time, the elevator doors opened. The three of us boarded, and Ava selected the floor from the wall panel. I think I was hoping for a more relaxed atmosphere, now that it was just the three of us–removed from our bosses and corporate overlords. Yet the elevator ride was quiet and awkward.

From the elevator, Ava led us down a few hallways in a portion of the building that I had never seen before. Considering the massive size of the building, and how little of it I had ever needed to see before, this shouldn’t have surprised me. Yet it still humbled me how easy it was to wander into an area that I’d be lost in if left to my own devices.

We reached Ms. Beaufort’s office door, which Ava unlocked with a key.

“She trusts you with a key to her office?” I asked Ava.

“Well, sure,” she replied, shrugging. “I’m her assistant.”

I wondered if this meant that one day Ms. Heller would trust me with a key to her office. It occurred to me that I spent so much time thinking about being her weird personal dolly that I rarely considered the actual assistant part of her job.

“What do you do as Ms. Beaufort’s assistant?” I asked.

“Scheduling. Filing. Paperwork. And, you know, I’m always available if she needs me to suck on her tits or something.”

She had said it casually that I almost had to think about whether or not it was actually a strange thing to request an assistant do. The door was opened and we all filed into the office before Ava shut it behind us.

It was big–though not bigger than Ms. Heller’s office. But whereas Ms. Heller’s office was sleek with its modern style, Ms. Beaufort’s office had a more antiquated charm to it. There was probably a name for this type of style–gold and marble with early 20th century aesthetics. It bordered on gaudy, but I supposed I could see it as tasteful.

“It’s gorgeous,” Lyndie said, looking around the room.

“You should tell her that,” Ava said. “She’ll love you forever.”

I didn’t want to talk about the decor. Really, there wasn’t much else that I wanted to talk about besides the reason we were all sent here in the first place.

“So…do we really have to do this?” I asked.

Both women looked at me like I had two heads.

“Well, yeah,” Lyndie said. “You need your diapers changed, right? I suspect you can’t go back there in still-wet diapers.”

“Are you nervous about getting changed in front of me?” asked Ava. “I don’t have to look. Of course, that means that you can’t look at me while I’m getting changed either.”

“I guess I mean that…isn’t it weird?” I asked. “The adults just send us off to get our diapers changed while they sit around and talk about us? And we’re just expected to…do it.”

Now both women were giggling at me.

“What?” I asked. “What’s so funny?”

“The adults?” asked Ava.

“So clearly you already see yourself as one of the babies,” added Lyndie.

I felt my cheeks blushing. What a stupid and embarassing slip. “I didn’t mean, like, adults. I meant, like…our bosses.”

“Uh huh,” Lyndie said. “Pants off. Get on the ground, baby boy. Ava, can you show me where Ms. Beaufort keeps her spare diapers and whatnot?”

“Of course,” Ava said. “But also, you don’t have to change him on the ground. Ms. Beaufort and I use this.”

She walked over to the room’s couch and pulled out the base of it, unfolding it into a bed.

“A futon,” I said. “Does she sleep here?”

“She doesn’t consider it a bed when it's unfolded,” Ava answered. “She calls it our changing table.”

This prompted another laugh from Lyndie, likely watching as my cheeks got a little darker upon hearing that.

“Go ahead, then,” Lyndie said to me. “Get your pants off and wait for me on the changing table.”

And while Ava opened a closet and was showing Lyndie where she could get more diapers, I slowly unbuckled my pants. Slowly slid my feet out of my shoes. Slowly lowered my pants down my thighs–for what felt like the 100th time just today–and stepped out of them.

“Bad news,” Lyndie said, walking back towards me as I lowered myself onto the converted-bed.

“Is she…out of diapers?” I asked. If I sounded hopeful, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to wear diapers–I was just hoping to get out of being changed in front of two attractive women.

“Oh no,” Ava said. “She has plenty of diapers.”

“The bad news is that she doesn’t have the plain white ones that Ms. Heller has been putting you in.”

“What other kind of diaper is there?” I asked, sincerely struggling with the mental image of what another type of adult diaper could look like.

Lyndie held it out in front of her so I could see it. It was certainly different, and it made the white diapers I had grown used to look as regular as a pair of the boxer briefs I had worn a week ago. For one, it was pink. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a cartoonish print that spanned the length of the diaper. Princesses. Tiaras. Unicorns. Magic wands and stars.

“I…I can’t wear that,” I said.

“It’s a diaper,” Lyndie said. “And you need a new one.”

“But I’m not a girl!” I protested.

“Well,” Lyndie retorted, “you’re not exactly a big boy either, are you?”

That shut me up.

Lyndie descended upon me, working herself between my legs to remove the mildly-sodden diaper. I had managed to wet it a little more on the way to Ms. Beaufort’s office–a semi-conscious effort to get as much out of my system to avoid yet another diaper change later today–though this was hardly the worst diaper Lyndie had ever seen me in.

“You never reached out to me with your number,” Ava said from somewhere behind me as Lyndie began peeling back the tapes.

I had almost entirely forgotten about that. Obviously. It was the first time I met Ava, just outside of Ms. Heller’s office. It was only days ago, but it felt like centuries ago now. I had promised to send her my phone number so we could connect outside of work. Presumably to talk about the weird new world I found myself in that she was already a part of.

“It’s been a hell of a week,” I said. It felt pretty strange saying anything at all while on my back in the middle of getting my diaper changed.

There was a little more confidence in Lyndie’s work as she handled this diaper. Maybe it was her new promotion. Perhaps she was just quickly getting the hang of actually changing me. Or, more than likely, it was just much easier to contend with a diaper that didn’t look like a sewage treatment plant had exploded within it. The wet diaper was opened up, and she was wiping my skin clean.

“I know this all seems overwhelming right now,” Ava said. “But…I’m happy that you’re with us now.”

“Us?” asked Lyndie. “Like…the other executive assistants?”

“Exactly,” Ava said.

“What can you tell us about the others?” Lyndie asked. “Megan? Bradley?”

“Bradley doesn’t wear diapers,” Ava said. “Well…not yet. I don’t see him very often, honestly. He’s pretty shy and mostly just sticks to Ms. Tamblerin’s side.”

Lyndie pulled the old diaper out from under me, giving my bottom one more cleansing swipe before prepping the new pink diaper to be slid under me.

“And what about Megan?” I asked.

“Megan…” There was a strange hesitation in Ava’s tone. “She’s a curious case.”

Lyndie’s eyes connected with mine, and we were both hungry for elaboration.

“Well we definitely need to know more about that,” Lyndie said, sliding the new diaper beneath me.

“Normally I wouldn’t want to tell someone else’s story,” Ava said. “But…I guess you’ll find out sooner or later for yourself anyways.”

The front of the fresh diaper was pulled through my open legs and folded over my, thankfully, limp cock and positioned in place. The new tapes were pulled open and positioned tightly in place. I was officially in a pretty pink diaper now.

“Go on,” Lyndie urged Ava, turning from me so she could face her directly. “Dish.”

“Well, Megan started working here as, uhm, Martin…”

It took a moment or two for both Lyndie and I to process that.

I spoke first, sitting up on the extended couch cushion: “Megan is a… Was a…?”

“She’s…she. Now,” Ava said. “Mutually agreed upon between herself and Mr. Yang, of course. And Mr. Yang has invested a lot in Megan.”

I had more questions, as I’m sure Lyndie did too. Questions that were probably better for Megan herself. This felt universally agreed upon, given the moments of quiet that followed.

“One baby down,” Lyndie said, getting us back on track. “One to go. Ready, Ava?”

“Y-yes,” she replied with a sheepish nod.

I stood up and stepped away from the makeshift ‘changing table,’ grabbing my pants and shoes as I gave Ava space.

“I didn’t look,” Ava said to me as she approached Lyndie.

“So I won’t look at you either,” I said.

Ava flipped up her black skirt, revealing the pink diaper underneath it. It wasn’t as easy to see the discoloration from wetness that my white diapers had, but there was an obvious heavy sag to it.

I quickly looked away, feeling bad for having seen what I had–especially after just agreeing to not looking.

“I was kidding, by the way,” Ava said. “I totally looked at you while you got your diaper changed.”

I laughed, though I felt my face growing red again.

Ava had less hesitancy than I did to lay down in front of Lyndie for her diaper change. I wondered if it was just experience. Being in that conference room had revealed what I had only suspected before–there was a strange community within this company that I was now a part of. I wondered who else had changed Ava’s diaper before. Had she been…passed around? Had Ms. Heller, at some point, changed Ava’s diaper too?

I heard Lyndie peeling back the tapes of Ava’s diaper. I kept my eyes averted.

“Is this just what happens to all executive assistants?” I asked. “We just get…put in diapers or made into sex toys?”

“Not all,” Ava said. “Ms. Heller’s last assistant certainly wasn’t invited to participate. I don’t know why. Maybe he wasn’t a good fit or had the wrong attitude.”

Daniel–I had forgotten about him. At the start of the week, he still had a job here. Now he was gone and, as best as I could tell, it was because Ms. Heller found someone else that she wanted to put into a diaper.

“Oh wow,” Lyndie said, looking down between Ava’s legs as she opened her diaper. “I’ve never seen such smooth skin before. Have you ever had hair here?”

“Ms. Beaufort is very particular about it,” Ava responded. “She keeps me very, uhm, maintained.”

I wanted to look. Very badly. But I kept a little bit of distance, being sure only to look at the back of Lyndie’s head when I glanced in that direction.

“And are you always such a heavy wetter?” Lyndie asked.

“I…I guess I don’t really think about it much anymore,” Ava said. “I pretty much wear diapers all the time. And when I have to go, I just go.”

“As any baby should,” Lyndie said, herself sounding like an expert caregiver for large babies–even if this was, by my count, only the third diaper she had ever changed.

“You like it?” I asked.

“Who, me?” Lyndie asked.

“Sorry,” I said, realizing I had just sort of blurted out that question without making it clear what I meant. “Ava. Do you like this? Your role as Ms. Beaufort’s baby?”

Ava’s response was not what I was expecting. Not words–just a soft moan.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” Lyndie said. “I was just trying to clean you up, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, no,” Ava said to her. “It’s okay. I’m just…sensitive. It doesn’t take much to, uhm, excite me.”

It seemed like dangerous knowledge in the hands of Lyndie, though I figured I’d let Ava figure that out for herself.

“I like it,” Ava said, seeming to finally be coming back around to answering my question. “It’s obviously not normal. But it’s easy to forget that when you’re in this building. Ms. Beaufort cares for me, and she treats me incredibly well. Since becoming an assistant, it’s kind of like I’m in a different world now when I’m at the office.”

“How so?” I asked. There were plenty of obvious answers, but I felt like I still needed to hear her perspective on it.

“There’s, what, hundreds of people here?” Ava asked. “They come here every day and they just…do their job. Paperwork, analysis, meetings, collaborations. But the executives–not all of them, but the ones you met, for sure–seem to be on a completely different planet. They do minimal amounts of work, delegating the rest of it to committees and associates who do all the heavy lifting for them. And with the rest of their time, they live in this…fantasyland. Weird fetishes. Meet-ups and secret gatherings. It’s a world within a world here, and I have no doubt that we’re only seeing a small portion of it.”

I hadn’t considered it before, but Ava’s words made sense. If we lowly assistants were allowed access to this level of strangeness, maybe it wasn’t too far-fetched that there were even stranger things that we haven’t seen yet. Or that we’d never see at all.

“All done,” Lyndie said, placing the last tape for Ava’s new diaper. “You’re good to go.”

“Hey,” I said, still in the process of working out the idea I had. “Maybe we can get together later? After work? We can talk about…everything.”

Lyndie nodded, signaling that she was in.

“I’d like that,” Ava said. “Where?”

“Well,” I said with a shrug, “how about my place?”

“His roommate already knows about the diapers,” Lyndie added. “Though that’s not saying much. I feel like everyone who runs into Clark knows.”

Ava laughed. “Is that so?

“N-nevermind that. Let’s get back to the conference room.”

We traversed back to the elevator in a single-file line following Ava, who was likely the only one of us who knew how to get us back to where we needed to be. None of us had much to say–we all had a bit to think about and process. Even Ava, arguably the most experienced with this world–was the introduction of Lyndie to her world something easily accepted?

The walk back had disarmed me. By the time we reached the conference room doors, I felt pretty calm and collected. Yes, everything was weird–but I could handle it. So long as the weirdness was slowly doled out to us, we’d just continue to learn and acclimate.

You got this, I said to myself as Ava opened the door.

“Perfect, you’re back just in time,” Ms. Heller said as she stood up from her seat at the end of the table. “Let’s get you properly initiated with your ceremonial sp*nking.”

Eighteen

To the side of the large conference table, a row of chairs had been pulled back against the wall. The executives–the adults–were positioned at each chair.

Nobody needed to tell me how this was going to work, I could already see it for myself. This was a gauntlet.

I’d be passed down the line of execs, each having their moment with me, before I was finally passed back to Ms. Heller. And at the end of this process, I’d officially be indoctrinated into this weird kinky world of theirs.

I eyed up the order. Mr. Morris. Mr. Yang. Ms. Tamberlin. Ms. Beaufort. And finally, Ms. Heller.

Mommy.

On the other side of the room, I watched Ava and Lyndie join the other assistants. Megan was running her fingers through hair, seeming a little distracted. Bradley looked on nervously–either remembering his own initiation or maybe this was just the way he always looked.

“Come on now,” said Mr. Morris. “Get over here.”

I shuffled over to where he sat. I expected us to have a conversation, or that there’d at least be some sort of preparation for what was to come. Instead, he seemed to leap right into it. He reached forward to begin unfastening my pants. Instinctively, I brought my hands up to block him, but he just effortlessly batted them away, reminding me that he was now in charge.

“You shouldn’t have come back with pants on,” he said. “We were just going to take them back anyways.”

“Well you can’t have him walking around the building in just a diaper,” Ms. Beaufort said from further down the line.

“See, this is why I think we need to consider having a dedicated floor of the building that we use as a playspace,” Mr. Yang said, throwing his hands into the air.

“The board doesn’t love that idea,” Ms. Heller said. “But I still believe they can be convinced.”

The board? There was a board too? Did they know about the weird kinky lives the execs lead at work? Were they in on this game too?

“Now then,” Mr. Morris said as he tugged on my pants. “Let’s see that clean new diaper of yours.”

A ripple of giggles spread over the conference room from both sides as my girlish diaper was exposed.

I tried to explain: “It…it was all that was in Ms. Beaufort’s office and…”

“Baby, is your pacifier in your pocket?” Mommy asked from further down the line.

“Yes…”

“Be a doll and pop that into your mouth, please.”

I fished the plastic dummy from my pocket and did as she asked. As was likely her intent, I had felt especially chastised and childish by her command.

“Yes,” Mr. Morris said, running his hands over my pretty diaper, “this is a rather sissy look for you. Is your Mommy about to start putting ribbons in your hair?”

“I think I’d like to keep him as a baby boy,” Ms. Heller said. “Sissies are more Mr. Yang’s department.

“Sissies?” Mr. Yang rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Megan isn’t a sissy.”

“Over my lap,” Mr. Morris says to me, ignoring the other banter. “I assume you know where a little toddler belongs for a spanking.”

Not exactly, but I could figure it out. It had been a very long time since I was last pulled over someone’s knees for a sp*nking, but those memories never really fade.

Just like climbing into Daddy’s lap.

I threw myself over his legs, hearing a few more muffled chuckles scattered about the room as I did. He did the rest of the work himself, grabbing the waistband of my diaper with a single strong hand and pulling me into place.

There was no warning–he just immediately went into it.

SMACK!

I didn’t feel much of it. I felt the thick padding get shoved against my skin, but most of his blow was dispersed throughout the diaper. I assumed he knew this, of course. The sp*nking wasn’t intended to hurt–it was intended to humiliate. My pants were off, I was in a girly diaper, and I was over a man’s lap getting sp*nked–all while at work.

The mission is a success.

He throws a barrage of loud and firm slaps my way, each rebounding off the bottom of the diaper–the sounds echoing through the conference room.

“I’m hoping to spend more time with you,” he said to me finally.

“Yes sir,” I said. Adding, only because it seemed like the polite thing to say: “Likewise.”

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough fun,” Mr. Yang said from the next chair over. “Pass him along, will ya?”

Mr. Morris gently nudged me off his lap, and my feet slid back to the ground again. A short waddle later, and I was at the lap of Mr. Yang. I didn’t bother waiting for the cue to throw myself over his knees–I knew the request would be coming soon enough–and I planted myself atop his lap.

“Oh wow,” he said. “A real go-getter, this one. I can see why you’d want him to be your assistant.”

“He’s certainly a catch,” she responds from further down the line of chairs.

“I don’t have much more to add than what Mr. Morris has already demonstrated,” Mr. Yang says to me. “Though it looked like he was having fun slapping around this big poofy bottom of yours.”

WHAP! SMACK!

A short flurry of slaps rebounded off my diaper, again filling the room with the humiliating noise. Something was happening back there. Maybe the repeated slaps were breaking down the diaper’s thick qualities, or maybe it just took so many blows in the same spot before I began to feel it.

But I was starting to feel it now.

“Give him here,” Ms. Tamberlin said.

“Hold on,” Mr. Yang said. “I’m not done yet.”

SLAP! WHACK!

Another batch of smacks landed on my diaper. If asked, I wouldn’t have admitted that it was painful yet. But some of that sting was starting to make its way through.

As I was only halfway across the gauntlet, this didn’t bode well for me.

“Don’t be greedy,” Ms. Tamberlin said, expressing a little more frustration in her tone. “I want to play with the baby.”

“You don’t even like babies,” retorted Mr. Yang.

“I like them when they’re not mine.”

“Fine, fine.”

I was handed off again. I hopped off one lap and into Ms. Tamberlin’s. I glanced across the room as I did so, taking in the faces of the peanut gallery–the other assistants and Lyndie. None of the assistants seemed to look much different from the last time I saw them. I wondered if they’d seen this all before–aside from the time they had experienced it for themselves.

It was Lyndie’s reaction I was most interested in getting a glimpse of. Her smile had grown wider, and her hands seemed tightly clasped in front of her, like she could barely contain her glee.

SMACK!

Ms. Tamberlin wasted no time in walloping my diaper. I felt that one, and it smarted. The diaper’s protection seemed to have been worn down by the last two laps. Not only that, but it seemed like Ms. Tamberlin was striking harder than her peers.

CRACK! WHAP!

Her hand seemed to move faster, and the impact sounded louder when she made contact. Had the men just been showing restraint?

“I probably should’ve warned you, Baby,” Ms. Heller said. “Nancy is also the Director of Corporal Punishment.”

“God, I wish,” Ms. Tamberlin said. “Could you imagine how cool those business cards would look?”

SMACK! SLAP!

Another sharp delivery of swats arrives. My ass feels hot, and I bet it’s warm to the touch.

I’m now in pain.

I feel my eyes watering. My bottom lip is trembling. I didn’t see this coming minutes ago. Moments ago, even. And looking ahead–I know it’s only going to get worse.

“About done with him?” asked Ms. Beaufort in her delicious French-tinged accent.

“Just about,” she said. I couldn’t see her face, but I was pretty sure I could hear her smiling.

SLAP! WHACK!

A pathetic “Guh!” was forced from my mouth as her final smacks were felt through the worn padding of my diaper. This seemed to elicit a favorable reaction on both sides of the room.

I feel a heavy teardrop rolling down my cheek.

“There,” said Ms. Tamberlin, sounding content with what she had accomplished. “Now you can have him.”

I’m ready to flop myself over Ms. Beaufort’s lap next, but she stops me.

“Perhaps your bottom could use a break, yes?” she asked.

I nodded, sniffling a little.

“You’re looking a little beaten down, Clark,” she continued. “Does your little tushy hurt?”

I fought the urge to turn around and see how the other assistants were reacting. I simply stared forward at Ms. Beaufort, offering a little nod.

“I may have a little something that could help.”

“Oh?”

“You’re going to love this,” Ms. Heller remarked.

To my astonishment, Ms. Beaufort was unbuttoning her blouse. There was no shame or hesitation on her part, she went about it like she was at home, alone, with nobody watching her. She just made her way down her blouse, unfastening each button along the way, until she got to the last third when she stopped.

She reached into her open blouse to expose her lacy white bra. I may or may not have previously appreciated the size of large breasts in passing, but the more I saw of them now, the larger they appeared to be. And once her bra was exposed, she carefully hoisted her left bosom from it.

There it was, completely exposed to everyone in the conference room–her plump breast and its generously-sized nipple. And there appeared to be a little drop of moisture at the tip of it? A rogue droplet on the underside of her breast?

I wished I had a little more decorum, but out of surprise, I blurted: “Are you…lactating?”

There were some more scattered giggles throughout the room. I suspected everyone else–save for Lyndie–was already well aware of this.

“Don’t be shy,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Don’t you want a taste?”

Of course I did. I was practically salivating. But did I want a taste of her breastmilk here? With an audience?

“Really, it’s okay,” Ms. Beaufort said.

“Everyone’s had a taste,” Ms. Heller said, motioning towards the other assistants.

“I haven’t,” said Mr. Morris from the other end of the executives.

“If you’d like to serve as my assistant too,” Ms. Beaufort rebutted, “I’m all for it. But diapers are a mandatory part of my assistants’ dress code.”

Mr. Morris didn’t seem to have anything else to interject.

“Just a taste,” Ms. Beaufort said to me again.

I had never known how badly I wanted this before. And with another pathetic sniffle, and just after wiping the last of the tears from my eyes, I leaned forward and gently placed my lips on her breast. I had no remembered life-experience with actually suckling from a nipple, though the motions did remind me of sucking on a pacifier.

When the first drop hit my tongue, I immediately regretted having tasted it at all. It wasn’t enough that it made me feel so completely small–it also tasted magical. Like sweetened milk, or milk mixed with honey. I needed more, and I already knew that I’d later be craving more.

“Oh goodness,” Ms. Beaufort exclaimed to the delight of the others in the room. “He’s a thirsty one, hmm. Gabby, maybe you ought to consider lactation training yourself?”

I pulled myself away from her breast, suddenly remembering where I was and who I was still amongst. I had only been suckling for a second or three–but that was all it took to instantly brainwash me into thinking I was an actual baby again. My cheeks turned bright red as I tried to compose myself.

“Some babies can’t get enough,” Ms. Heller said with a shrug. “I’ll consider the suggestion, but if you have enough to share…”

“I do,” Ms. Beaufort says with a smile. “Anytime baby gets hungry and wants a little snack, you just let me know.”

And that just left one chair left: Mommy’s.

Having been sufficiently sp*nked, poked, prodded, and even breastfed, I wasn’t sure what else there was to endure now that I’ve made it to the end. Instead of throwing myself over Ms. Heller’s lap–as much as I would’ve liked to–I stood still and waited for her direction.

“I wanted to give this to you sooner,” she said. “But this seemed like a more fitting time for it.”

I tried to imagine what it might be. A key to her office? Her home phone number? A new pacifier?

She handed me a box, wrapped in red wrapping paper. “Go ahead. Open it.”

My eyes scanned across the conference room again, hoping to read the reactions of everyone else before taking any more guesses as to what it could be. But they seemed just uncertain, and curious, as I did.

Here goes nothing. I tore off the paper.

For a moment, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking at. I could see a picture of the contraption on the box–whatever it was, it looked sleek and made of stainless steel.

“Read it aloud,” Ms. Heller said. “What does the box say?”

“It says, uh…this is the ‘LilNub.’”

There were some giggles and chuckles coming from behind me. I still felt like I was missing something and I stared at the box harder. Then, suddenly, it clicked.

“That’s right! It’s your little chastity cage. What do you think? Ready to slip it on? Ready to be fully under Mommy’s control?”

It was something that had been in the back of my mind since she first mentioned it to me. I had always known what the cage entailed, and symbolized. Hell, I had even fantasized about such control being imposed on me by her. But holding it in my hands felt more real than it ever did before. This was real. This was really happening. And once it was on me, I was hers.

“Well?” she asked, still waiting for a response from me.

What else was there for me to say?

“Thank you so much, Mommy. I love it.”

Her face glowed as she smiled widely. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Well?” asked Ms. Tamberlin. “What are we waiting for? Lock that baby up.”

“Is that what everyone wants?” Ms. Heller asked the rest of the room. “Should I lock him up? Right here, right now?”

Lyndie started it: “Lock him up!”

Mr. Morris and Mr. Yang joined in: “Lock him up!”

The rest of the assistants, even timid little Bradley, had joined in: “Lock him up!”

Ms. Tamberlin and Ms. Beaufort joined in: “Lock him up!”

And the entire room became a unified chorus: “Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!”

“And you,” Ms. Heller said to me. “What do you want?”

I was sure that she knew the answer. Everyone in the room probably did. But I said it anyway.

“Lock me up. I’m yours.”