Doing Business, Part 48 (Patreon)

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Forty-Eight

It had been a while since I was in the men’s room at the office. I used to at least stop by on occasion to wash my hands, but more recently I was just keeping a large bottle of hand sanitizer at my desk. It seemed to make more sense–considering how many times my hands were coming in contact with diapers. Usually used, or in the process of being used.

It had been even longer since I sat in one of the stalls. Even before I entered this age of diapers, I was staunchly against pooping at work. Just the thought of it gave me anxiety. People hearing the noises your ass made? The sound of things dropping into the water? What if you were judged for how many times you pulled toilet paper from the rolls? What if it stunk up the whole bathroom? I could never perform under those obstacles.

But, the stall did make for a good hiding place. If I hadn’t been so distraught, I probably would’ve had more appreciation for the fact that I was sitting on a toilet for the first time in a long while–wearing a diaper while I did so.

I had a lot to think about. A lot to process.

In the stall next to me, someone was busy using the toilet as it was intended. It was loud. Smelly. If nothing else, I felt vindicated about my own toilet habits. Even if they didn’t seem to care.

No longer a hospitable environment for thinking, I left and slowly meandered back to my desk–my walk still something closer to a waddle, due to my heavy diaper.

Lyndie was waiting for me there.

“Hey,” she said. “Did you still need me? We could take care of your, uh, problem.”

I could at least appreciate that she hadn’t just talked about my wet diaper in the middle of the office for once.

“No,” I said. “I’m good, thanks.”

“You’re…good? You got a change already?”

“Not yet.”

“How are you ‘good’ then? C’mon. We’ll go back to my office and I’ll take care of you.”

“Actually, I think I’m just going to head out,” I said. “I’ll catch you later, though.”

“Clark, you’re being weird. Weirder than usual.”

Am I weird? “Sorry, it’s just been a long day and I’m under a lot of stress, so I think I’m just going to head home and…”

“If it’s because I couldn’t see you earlier, I’m sorry. I just had to take care of something else.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no… It’s cool.” I was no actor, but this felt like a pretty solid performance.

“Are you sure you don’t want to swing by for a second? You’ll be in and out in a few minutes with a brand-spanking-new…”

“Sorry,” I said, cutting her off before she, likely, said the d-word aloud in the office, “I really do need to be heading out. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” she said, feigning an optimistic smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She looked a little hurt, I thought. But it was a painful conversation for me too. I wanted her to change my diaper, and certainly could’ve used one. But until I knew more about why she had been talking to Pritchard in the nursery, I felt like I couldn’t fully trust her. That hurt.

I quickly gathered my things and began to make my way out of the office, fully committed to curling up in a ball on my bed later.

“Leaving a little early today?” asked Ava, intercepting me in the hallway.

If I had to run into anyone, I was glad it was her.

“I was going to. But…hey, were you doing anything tonight?”

She thought about it for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

It was a spur of the moment question, but having company seemed a little better than wallowing in loneliness. Besides, maybe Ava was the exact person I needed to talk to about whatever was happening with Pritchard and Lyndie.

“Maybe it’d be nice to get some food or something?”

Her cheeks seemed to get a little more pink. “Are you asking me out on a date, Clark?”

Was I? I supposed that it did sound that way. “Oh, I don’t know about a date. I just thought that…”

“Yeah, I’d love to go out,” she said.

Out? Like ‘out for drinks?’ Or like ‘out on a date?’

“Perfect,” I said.

“Where and when?”

“Anytime, I guess,” I said. “I just need to go home and change and then I'll be ready to go whenever.”

“Change?” she asked, smirking. “Are we talking about your clothes? Or your…”

I nodded. “It all needs a good change.”

“By the time I get out of here, I’ll need a good change myself,” she said. “I can meet up with you later. 7-ish?”

“Sounds good,” I said.

We picked a place to eat that was more central to both our locations. Really, she just named a place–a little diner–that she thought might be between us. She could’ve picked a place on the moon for all I cared. But it was done–plans were made. We were going out.

By the time I got back to my apartment building, I felt a little dampness in the leg of my pants near the bottom of my diaper. Wetting it one more time on the train probably hadn’t been the best idea, but I rarely gave those sorts of things consideration anymore. Still, I wasn’t too concerned about it. I was home–or close enough.

I jumped on the elevator and hit the shining ‘5.’ Home sweet home.

But when the elevator door opened, I was surprised to see someone standing there in the hallway. And not just anyone–it was Pizza Girl.

“Uh, hi there,” she said, waving.

Does she…recognize me? “Oh, hey. Dropping off some, uh, pizza?”

She laughed, nodding. “That’s kind of what I do. Actually, I was just dropping it off at your place.”

She remembers where I live? “Oh…it must’ve been my roommate.”

“I figured,” she said, shrugging. “I’m, uh, not used to anyone else opening the door.”

Okay, so she absolutely recognizes me. “Well, it’s good to see you,” I said, stepping off the elevator as she stepped on to it. Our bodies briefly brushed against each other, and all I could hear was crinkling. My face turned a bright red. It seemed impossible that I could see her without humiliating myself somehow. There was no doubt that she heard that too. And she, undoubtedly, could guess that I just wore diapers all the time.

But I looked into the elevator again as the doors closed. She was waving goodbye. Her cheeks looked almost as red as mine.

What did she have to be embarrassed about?

There wasn’t much time to ponder my latest embarrassing run-in with her, though. Between the time it took to get home, the time it’d take to get ready, and the time it’d take to get over to the diner Ava picked out, there wasn’t much time to spare.

“Aw, you just missed the pizza delivery girl!” Evan said as I burst through the door. “Also, I got us pizza for dinner.”

“That was, honestly, very nice of you,” I said. “But I actually have plans.”

“You? Plans?”

“Meeting with Ava tonight. And then, while I’m thinking about it, I think I’m going to Mommy–er, my boss’s–place tomorrow. And don’t forget that my mother is coming on Saturday morning.”

“Wow, look at you, Mr. Social. And there’s so much to unpack there. Is this a date with you and Ava tonight?”

“N-no, I don’t think so.” Though I wasn’t entirely sure myself.

“And does Mommy know you’re going out on a date?” he teased.

“I just said that I didn’t think it was a date! We’re friends!”

“Alright, sure. And you’re going to your boss’s place tomorrow? Come on. That seems like a big deal.”

“It probably is,” I said. “But if I think about that right now, I’ll probably have a panic attack. Let’s shelve that topic for now.”

“Do I need to do anything in anticipation for your mother’s arrival?”

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate you asking.”

Ideally, yes, we’d completely redecorate the apartment so that it didn’t look like two early 20-somethings lived here. In a perfect world, the apartment would be classy enough to complete the picture I was crafting with brunch at a fancy restaurant. And my faux-girlfriend Lyndie.

Wait. Was that still going to happen now? Another thing to ponder later.

“You’re changing, right?” he asked.

“That was my plan,” I said, feeling a little offended. “What’s wrong with this outfit, though?”

“Oh nothing,” he shrugged. “It’s just your, uh, diaper. I’ve started to notice this little waddle you get sometimes. I suspect it’s when your diaper is full?”

“Ugh. You seriously notice that?” Who else noticed such a thing?

“Honestly, it’s pretty subtle.” He shrugged again. “Maybe I only notice it because we live together and I see you walking around a lot?”

Yeah, but do you know who else sees me walking around a lot? Everyone I work with.

“Okay, thanks,” I said, hoping my tone made it obvious how sarcastic I was being. Yet another thing to think about later and grow anxious over.

In my bedroom, with the door closed and my pants off, I found myself feeling a little more comfortable. I’d be hesitant to say that I was in my ‘natural state’–no pants and saggy diaper between my legs–but it felt more right than the slacks I wore to the office did. Lately, that’s how I saw myself in my daydreams–waddling about in just a diaper like I was a toddler.

In the past–in what felt like a different life, at this point–this would’ve been a prime opportunity to lie back in bed and have a few minutes alone with my cock. A brief reprieve from the stresses and expectations of the world. An emotional reset button, of sorts. But when I collapsed in my bed and pawed at the front of my diaper–feeling the stiff and unyielding cage under it–I remembered that I didn’t even have that pleasure anymore.

It had only been a few days since Seattle–but I was already craving pleasure like the kind experienced there. I hoped that Mommy wouldn’t make me wait as long as she did between when the cage was first put on my cock and Seattle.

Maybe tomorrow? But that seemed way too far away.

I settled for just taking a few minutes to feel the bloated padding with my hand, squeezing the plastic gently and feeling the wetness press against my skin and cage. It had been a while since I enjoyed the simple pleasures of diapers–just the wet padding and soft crinkle of the plastic.

But the sound brought to mind my brief encounter with Pizza Girl at the elevator. My diaper–just as soaked then as it was now–made a different kind of crinkling noise then. It was…crisper. Like a fresh diaper, not the soaking wet one that I was wearing. And so that crinkling noise might not have been me. And so…

Oh, I couldn’t let myself start thinking crazy things like that. I simply wasn’t remembering the noise correctly.

I had to get ready. There’d be plenty of time to grope my diapers later. Begrudgingly, I untapped the diaper and opened it up, the air feeling cool on my damp skin.

I briefly flirted with the idea of calling Ava and just inviting her over to my place. We could just hang out in my room, crawling around in diapers and acting like babies. I wouldn’t–I couldn’t even imagine me saying the words aloud to her. But it was a nice idea.

Instead, I changed myself into a new diaper, adding a little extra powder to my groin in the hope that I’d be avoiding a rash from sitting in this last wet diaper for as long as I had. Is that even how baby powder works? Seemed like something Mommy would know. Or Lyndie.

Nope. Don’t think about Lyndie tonight.

Getting out of the house again helped to improve my mood some. Between the fresh diaper, some new clothes, and having actual plans, I felt sufficiently distracted as I made my way to the diner. It would be good to see Ava.

“You’re late,” she said, already standing outside of the diner when I arrived.

“It’s 7:02,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone. “I’d say that counts as being on time.”

“Interesting,” she said, smiling. “I wasn’t sure if Mommy had taught you how to tell time yet.”

“Just as I’m surprised you were able to pull yourself off of your mommy’s tit long enough to make it here tonight.”

We hugged each other and it felt good. I could feel that we both needed that. I could feel my

“So,” she said when we were finally seated in a booth. “You looked a little distraught when you were leaving the office today. What was that about?”

“We’re going to jump into it so soon?”

She shrugged. “Well, I didn’t want to talk about my own problems, so I figured we’d talk about yours.”

It was a little relieving to be reminded that she had stresses and problems in her own life.

“I was almost hoping we could use tonight to distract ourselves from problems,” I said.

“You know how friends work, right? You’re supposed to be able to talk about those sorts of things.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “Distractions first. Then we can get into the meatier stuff.”

Ava shrugged and smiled. “So I heard you had a spectacular accident in your diaper yesterday. With a bunch of execs in the room?”

I laughed, unsure if this counted as a ‘distraction’ or not. “You heard about that?”

“Mom–er, Ms. Beaufort–was there, remember? Of course she was going to tell me about it.”

Even in a huge office building, our world was remarkably tiny. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“How was it?” she asked, her lips cracking into a slight grin.

“How was…messing my diaper in front of an audience like that?”

She nodded, looking a little more hungry for an answer now. “Come on, Clark. We both know it was humiliating and shameful and all that. But I think you and I also see the other side of it that nobody else sees.”

“Which, uh, side is that?”

“The side where we love feeling so humiliated and ashamed?”

I instinctively drew in a long breath, surprised to have been called out like that. My cheeks felt bright red again, and my body seemed to be stuck in place. But she was right. I expelled the air from my chest and started to laugh.

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re right. It was fucking incredible.”

People like Ms. Heller and Lyndie were well aware of my love of the humiliation they dished out. But they didn’t completely get it. Ava got it.

“Tell me about it?” she asked, sliding forward a little in her side of the booth to be closer to me across the table.

If I thought about it much more, I probably wouldn’t have said a word. I’d have overthought every part of the story and struggled to find the words to describe how I felt. But I just opened my mouth and started talking instead–hoping that I’d just find the words as I went.

“I had already wet the diaper pretty heavily, and she was making me just sit there on the floor of her office. And then people just started showing up. And they all walked past me, barely acknowledging my presence. But, like, I think I really…”

“Loved it?” Ava asked, completing my sentence.

I nodded.

“I know that feeling. I love it. It’s like the adults are too busy to pay attention to the baby. Or, maybe, we’re just pieces of stinky…”

“Furniture?” I asked, this time finishing her sentence.

She laughed and nodded. “Exactly.”

“So I was sitting there, and all those people were around me–talking to each other like I wasn’t there. And I felt trapped there, you know? Like I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. I was just stuck in my own head while they did their best to ignore me. And the longer I sat there in my wet diaper, the more I found myself craving this, I dunno…complete and utterly devastating humiliation?”

Ava nodded again. “I know that feeling, yes. Well.”

“And it wasn’t just that I was thinking that messing my diaper sounded like the best option, right? I had managed to convince myself that it was the only option. I had to do it. I was a baby, and this was what babies did. Like, I think I would’ve been more upset at myself if I hadn’t pooped my pants.”

It felt intensely cathartic to say those words aloud. I looked around the diner, seeing other people in booths and at tables. Servers bustling back and forth with menus and trays of food. Nobody was looking at us. Nobody cared. And here we were, talking about pooping our pants.

It felt amazing.

“I pooped my pants in the back of an Uber last week,” Ava suddenly blurted out. Judging by how red her cheeks got, I suspected she either didn’t mean to be so blunt about it or she didn’t mean to say it as loud as she had.

I glanced around the diner again. Still no wandering eyes to our table. In fact, I realized I could barely make out the words being said at any of the tables around us. Even with the louder tables, the voices just sounded like streams of featureless noise. I felt reassured.

“Really?” I asked. I was very interested in hearing this story. “On purpose? What happened?”

“It’s funny,” she said, shrugging. “The further away we get from that moment, the less sure I am if it was an accident or if I had wanted to do it or not. Like, I didn’t get into the car thinking that I was going to do it. I don’t even think I knew that I had to go when I first got in the car. But suddenly it just, like, hit me, you know? Like I just had this overwhelming need–urge, maybe–to lean forward and push everything in my bowels into my diaper.”

“Like a baby,” I said, nodding.

She laughed. “Right. Like a baby. So… I did it. With no consideration for the driver. This poor guy. He’s just trying to do his job, and he’s been super-nice to me. But then I’m in his backseat, pushing this huge mess into my diaper. I was, like, grunting. You know? When you have to push hard?”

“I know all about that, yes.”

“I apologized profusely and swore it was an accident. And I’m sure he believed me. I doubt he knew that I was wearing a diaper. And what lady goes into an Uber just to purposefully poop their pants?”

“So? What happened after that?”

“Well I couldn’t go home to clean myself up. And I couldn’t go run the errands I had intended to do while wearing a stinky diaper. So…I asked the driver if he could take me, instead, to the one place I knew I could get some help.”

“The office?”

She nodded. “Yup. It was after hours and barely anyone was there. No Ms. Beaufort. No Lyndie. Not even Ms. Heller. So I went into Ms. Beaufort’s office, locked the door behind me, and spent a good half hour cleaning myself up.”

That was a lot to take in. Those mental images would stick with me for a long time. And good thing, too–I wanted to remember them again if there ever came a day that this cage wasn’t wrapped around my cock. As it was, I could feel the uncomfortable throb of my shriveled manhood in my diaper.

“You couldn’t go home?” I asked.

She sighed. “N-no.”

“Why not?”

“I, uhm, thought that we were using tonight to avoid talking about our problems?”

“A wise little baby once told me that friends are supposed to be able to talk about these sorts of things.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. “I hate being so wise.”

“Is everything okay at home?”

“Well…I wasn’t really ready to talk about this. But I guess there’s no time like the present. Do you remember the other day when I told you I had something I wanted to tell you?”

“Of course,” I said.

The smile slowly faded from her face and she folded her hands in front of her at the table.

“Clark, I’m leaving the company.”