Doing Business, Part 37 (Patreon)

Missed a chapter? Need to catch up with the story so far? Check out this new story hub, with links to all previous chapters.

Thirty-Seven

“Should it be taking this long?” asked Kylie.

To be fair, I was wondering the same thing, myself. My face had been stationed in the soggy padding of her rear end for close to twenty minutes since Mommy had joined us, with nothing to show for it. At one point, I thought I felt her body tensing up, but it turned out that she just needed to wet a little more.

“What is it that you think was in that bottle?” asked Mommy, her tone suggesting that she was in heaven as she watched this scene unfold before her.

“Laxatives of some sort, I guess,” Kylie said. “Or so Clark says.”

“Well,” Mommy said, “everybody’s body is a little different. These things can just take a while.”

“Okay,” replied a skeptical Kylie.

“You are committed to using the diaper though?” Mommy asked.

“Well…Clark and I had a deal.”

“Did you now? I’m going to assume this is why his nose is stuck in your droopy bottom?”

“That’s right.”

“Doesn’t seem like a terrible deal.”

“That wasn’t the only term of our agreement, though,” Kylie said, some of her signature snark returning to her voice.

Mommy chucked. “I should’ve guessed. And what else was bartered?”

“I showed her my cage,” I said, my voice slightly muffled from my position.

I had feared that this would be an awkward angle to maintain for my head and neck, but the only discomfort I was actually feeling was coming from my cock. What a sinfully exciting place to be–the warmth of her diaper pressed against my face, while every breath through my nose caught a whiff of the pee-soaked padding. Between my legs, I was throbbing.

Behind me, I could hear something mechanical, though I couldn’t place the sound for a moment. Then I realized it was a camera. Not actually a camera of course–just the sound effect of a camera coming from a phone. I assumed they added the sound effect for the generations who grew up with actual cameras and needed to hear that sound to know a photo was taken. I had muted the sound on my phone, but I wondered if it was an audible indicator that Ms. Heller still relied on.

Of course, there remained the possibility that she left the sound on simply so that I would know when she’s taking my picture. As she was now.

“Don’t worry, Kylie, I’m not taking photos of your face. But, I did want to show this to some of my colleagues.”

I wanted to ask who these photos would be going to, but I bit my tongue. They were probably already en route to whoever needed to see them. Ms. Beaufort was somewhere hundreds of miles away right now, having a chuckle to herself about this. And Lyndie–there was no way that Mommy didn’t just send these photos to Lyndie.

“How, uh, are you doing?” I asked Kylie. “Think you might…need to go soon?”

“Getting a sore neck?” Kylie responded.

“It’s probably not his neck that’s getting sore,” Mommy said. “I can only imagine how badly the naughty little boy wants to stroke himself while huffing your pissy pants.”

“Gross,” cackled Kylie. “But…”

“But you kind of like it too, right?” asked Mommy.

“Yeah…”

“Welcome to a disgusting new world.”

“I think I can just…go,” Kylie said.

“Yeah?”

“I mean…I don’t feel all that different? I think I probably had to go to the bathroom anyway, so it’s not like it feels any more urgent than that. But I could probably go now if I wanted to.”

Mommy laughed. “Did you need any further invitation?”

“No…probably not.”

“Then, by all means, show us what little girls do in their diapers.”

I laughed–just a tiny little chuckle under my breath that probably got lost in the crinkles of Kylie’s diaper. Such a silly thing to gatekeep–the ease of using a diaper as an adult. But I could remember my first few times in a diaper and how hard it was to use it like I was supposed to. All those hang-ups about social standards and trying to overwrite my body’s programming. Did she really think that she could just squat down and fill a diaper like it wasn’t a big deal?

Frrrt.

A little gas had escaped her rear–a stinky little cloud that I swore I could feel through the diaper. It was…surprisingly hot. It shouldn’t have been that surprising, really; I had been turned on by far grosser things in the last few weeks. But it had served as a little bit of a wake-up call. For one, she had already shown little hesitation in pissing herself. And now, it seemed that she was ready to dive right into the deep end.

“Okay, well…that wasn’t it,” Kylie muttered. “Sorry about that.”

Mommy was laughing. “Oh, don’t apologize. He probably snorted that right up.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, let me try that again.” Her legs separated a little further and she grunted as she pushed on her bowels again. “Hrrrrgh…”

My face was greeted with a few more tiny toots, heralds for what was coming next. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought, maybe, I could hear it coming. Somewhere from within her, the faint sticky-crackling sound of something making its way towards the exit.

“It’s coming,” she said.

My heart raced and I felt myself pushing my face a little deeper into her diaper, as if I just needed to be a little closer to the action.

I didn’t dare pull my face away from Kylie’s behind to look at Mommy’s face, but I also didn’t think I had to. I could just imagine her expression. Wide, eager eyes and an impossibly large grin. She wouldn’t just be eating this up, she’d be letting it dissolve in her mouth completely before swallowing.

“That’s a good girl,” Mommy said in a most-encouraging tone.

Kylie opened her mouth one more time, making a noise that could’ve either been the start of a word, or just a grunt. It seemed unnecessary to tell us again that her mess was coming.

It had arrived. Against a chorus of rippling flatulence and grunts, I felt the back of her diaper slowly expanding into my face. It was as if there was a small hand on the other side of it, pushing the padding against my skin. But it was no hand, and the reality of what it actually was filled me with simultaneous shame and delight.

By this point in my career as a professional baby, I was no stranger to filling my own diapers. And while it seemed like a silly thing to boast about, in the back of mind I had begun to consider myself a wee bit of an expert on the topic of pooping one’s pants. Yet, there I was, my face being smothered by a growing bulge, and I couldn’t get over just how surreal and different this was.

I knew nothing. Under Mommy’s supervision, I’d only continue to see things I had never even dreamed of.

It was a sizable and firm load, and its weight almost immediately began to pull at her diaper. The soggy padding slid, ever so slightly, down my face like a plastic glacier. And the smell… I knew the smell of my own messes, and I suppose I had thought that if you smelled one stinky diaper, you had smelled them all. I was wrong. I wouldn’t say it was worse. Just different. Terrible, but in new ways. Terrible, but in the best ways.

My face was so close to the mess in her diaper. Less than an inch away, with just a few layers of plastic and saturated synthetic fabrics between me and it. As surreal as it was hot.

“I…I think I got it all out,” Kylie finally said. Her tone had changed. She didn’t sound ashamed. She sounded…small, maybe? Very small.

“Are you sure?” Mommy asked.

“Uh…”

I felt her squat a little more again, her bottom pressing against my face as she grunted loudly one more time. I could feel one last little ploop from the other side of the diaper.

“There. I…think that’s it.”

“How much longer do you think we should leave Clark parked at your rear end?”

“Oh,” Kylie said, as if having forgotten that I was still there at all. “Poor baby…it probably doesn’t smell very good back there.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Mommy said. “He’s having the time of his life. Right, Clarky?”

“Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Tell Kylie how much you like having your face pressed into her dirty diaper.”

“Well, uhm…” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. I wasn’t even sure how to put that into words, even if it would’ve been an accurate statement.

“Go on,” Mommy said. “Don’t be rude.”

“I really like, uh, having your messy diaper pressed against my face, Kylie.”

“I know,” she giggled. There was still a hint of shame in her voice, but some of that classic Kylie color was returning.

“Now,” Mommy said. “Thank her for letting you put your nose in her behind.”

I sighed as I heard Kylie giggle again. “Uhm…thank you, Kylie, for letting me put my face in your diaper as you pooped.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Clark, you can remove your face from the young woman’s posterior. Kylie, I do believe you’re in need of a diaper change.”

I did as she asked, finding that there was a vaguely face-shaped indent in the back of her drooping and stained diaper.

“Does Clark have to watch you change my diaper?” Kylie asked.

I, too, was curious to see what the answer to this question would be. Kylie hadn’t been invited when Mommy changed my own filthy diaper a little bit ago, but a lot had happened since then. And Mommy was certainly no stranger to inviting guests to watch her change my own diapers. I still often found myself thinking about the time I laid atop the Closet’s table while Mommy changed me with Lyndie hovering in the background.

I miss those days…

“No,” Mommy said. “He’ll have to stay out here. It’d be impolite to have him gawking at a little girl getting her bottom wiped clean.”

I didn’t entirely believe she meant that, but I could accept that she’d be saying this for Kylie’s benefit. Not to mention that the mention of ‘wiping clean’ Kylie’s bottom had caused her cheeks to turn an aesthetically pleasing deep pink.

“Off we go, then,” Mommy continued. “Behave yourself out here, Baby,” she said to me.

My cage all but ensured I would. “Yes, Mommy.”

Mommy escorted Kylie to the makeshift nursery, closing the door behind them.

Great. Left alone with my thoughts again.

Actually, no, I wasn’t all that interested in talking to myself. There’d be plenty of time for that later. I decided to get my phone and check in with Lyndie. Of course, it wasn’t until I had crawled across the entire room to where my phone was that I realized that I had, in fact, crawled.

Things like this had been happening more often, I found–these slips into more infantile behavior while nobody else was around. It was one thing to crawl around or suck my thumb when Mommy was present. But to do it when she wasn’t? I wasn’t sure if it was just habit, or if it was slowly becoming an unconscious desire. It didn’t alarm me–but sometimes these things snuck up on me, leaving me startled. Who was I becoming?

I found that I had a text waiting from Lyndie:

Lyndie: Looking good, Clark. I knew your ass looked good in a diaper, but I never knew how good your face looked in one too.

Oh right. I had already forgotten that Mommy had snapped the photos of my face lodged in Kylie’s bottom. I had no idea how to explain Kylie to her. Perhaps I didn’t have to–maybe Mommy had already filled her in on all the sordid details of the rise and fall of Kylie.

Me: Thanks, I guess.

Lyndie: Gonna make that a habit? Sticking your nose in the back of girls’ diapers? Should I tell Ava to prepare herself?

I found myself thinking about Ava’s diaper, slowly backing against my face so that I could smell its contents. I had been warned, once, that Ava was capable of making surprisingly toxic diapers. Was it bad that I wanted to experience that? Just once? My caged cock throbbed, as it did almost constantly these days.

Me: Have you talked to Ava today? How is she?

Lyndie: You could talk to her yourself, you know?

Me: You and her went out to get some drinks last night, right?

Lyndie: That’s true. Are you hoping I dish on anything she might have said about you?

Me: Is that asking for too much?

Lyndie: I’d be a terrible friend to both of you if I was just a middlewoman for gossip.

Me: Fair.

Lyndie: Everything’s fine. She likes you. She wants to be your friend. You want to be hers. Just don’t overthink it or be awkward.

That seemed like an easy-enough concept. But there was the embarrassing incident of our almost-kiss to consider. You’re overthinking it already.

Me: Yeah, you’re right.

Lyndie: So what’s happening in Seattle right now?

I looked over to the closed door that separated me from Mommy and Kylie. I wasn’t entirely sure what was happening behind that door. Sure, Mommy might have been changing a diaper. But I could also imagine Mommy laying on her back with her legs spread wide with Kylie’s face between them.

Me: For once, someone else is getting their dirty diaper changed.

Lyndie: Jealous?

Me: Well…it wasn’t that long ago that I had a dirty diaper of my own changed.

Lyndie: Of course.

Lyndie: When you come back, I’m going to want to hear everything.

Me: Mommy hasn’t already told you everything there is to know?

Lyndie: I know some things. But I’d really like to hear it from you.

My cheeks were getting warm again.

Me: I bet you would.

Me: But I will. Promise. When I get back, I’ll tell you everything. And considering that there’s already a lot to tell you about, I can’t imagine how much there’ll be by the time I’m home.

Lyndie: You’re going to love every second of it.

Me: I know.

I set my phone down and fell back onto my ass, choosing to spend the rest of my wait sitting in the comfort of my diaper. From behind the door, I could hear small noises. A laugh, the muffled sound of someone talking, the sound of a diaper’s tape being torn up from the plastic it was affixed to. I wasn’t used to hearing these sounds without me being at the center.

It wasn’t much later that the door opened again, with both women returning to the living room. If I didn’t have such intimate knowledge of what had happened to Kylie’s diaper earlier, I might have assumed that nothing actually happened. She looked…normal–the same as she had when she first showed up this morning. I wondered what was under her black skirt now. Another diaper?

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Kylie is heading out,” Mommy said.

Sarcasm, I hoped. I might have been suffering from a bit of Kylie-fatigue. I needed a break from her. I needed some quality time with Mommy.

“I know today was kind of wild,” Kylie said. “But, in the end, I think I had a good time with you.”

“Likewise,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed that just yet. But I suspected my memories of today would age pretty well.

“You’ll have to come out and see us sometime,” Mommy said to Kylie. “It’d be nice if we could set up a little playdate again.”

Kylie blushed a little. “My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I was taking a trip to see you. So…it’s probably a good idea that I do.”

Goodbyes and hugs were exchanged. A final swat from Mommy on Kylie’s bottom answered the question about whether or not she was being released back into the world in a diaper. She was. I’d have liked to have been a fly on the wall when Kylie was in the same room as her mother again, squirming under the pressure of not exposing herself as a baby.

“Quite a day,” I said when it was, finally, just her and I again.

“Seems like it. I think we created a new baby today, you and I.”

“You didn’t really give her a chance,” I said. “Between the spanking and the bottle. Not that I minded.”

“Ah, right, the bottle,” Mommy repeated, chuckling to herself. I recognized that specific smile–the look of someone who knew something I didn’t. I’d seen it enough to know it.

“Hm?”

“You grabbed the first bottle you saw when you opened the fridge, yes?”

“Y-yeah,” I said, thinking back to my trip to the fridge. “It was the only one in there.”

She shook her head. “Not true. I had two bottles in the fridge. One for a good boy, and one for a bad boy who’d need an especially dirty diaper.”

“O-oh. And the one that Kylie drank…?”

“It had a red cap,” she said. “That was not the ‘special’ bottle.”

I wasn’t sure which was more shocking to me–that Kylie had willingly pooped in her diaper while pressed against my face, or that there was still a laxative-laced bottle in the suite.

“Oh.”

“You really thought that you had given Kylie the other bottle? You thought that was what I wanted you to do, and went along with it?”

“I…guess.”

“That’s very naughty of you,” she said, laughing. “I’d say that makes you a bad boy, wouldn’t you?”

I sighed, nodding silently.

“We have just the bottle for bad boys, don’t we? I’ll save that for later. It’ll be fun."

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Fun.”