Doing Business, Part 51 (Patreon)

Fifty-One

One day until my mother visits.

When the alarm on my phone went off, I was already awake. I had been awake for at least an hour–though it could’ve been longer than that. I had crawled into bed late, slept for what felt like a minute, and then I woke without being able to get back to sleep again.

I couldn’t recall another time when I had this much on my mind at once. It felt like I was…drowning. Throughout my life, I’d exaggerate and say that I was on the verge of having a panic attack, but this actually felt like being on the verge of one. Maybe it was a panic attack–I wasn’t sure I had ever really had one before.

‘In the weeds.’ That’s what my mother used to say when she had too much going on. I think I’ve heard it said a few times around the office too.

As the morning progressed, the feelings of panic, dread, and anxiety began to meld with my lack of sleep. There were moments when I couldn’t even remember why I felt so anxious, and others where I’d find new–often insignificant–things to stress about.

Is there enough cream in this coffee? Is that woman wearing shorts? It’s not warm enough for that. Did I remember to bring my wallet? Does this subway car feel especially wobbly today?

My mother’s arrival was closer than it had ever been–and under any other circumstances, it would’ve been enough to send me into a fit of anxiety by itself. And yet that was the furthest thing from my mind.

I was heading to work, where I’d see Ava. Just hours before, we had been in the park together. We kissed. She had grinded her diaper against mine. And now, we’d have to pretend to be just colleagues. I’d have to somehow not let it slip to Mommy that things had happened with Ava without her knowing about it.

And Mommy–well, she knew everything. If she didn’t know it yet, she would eventually come to know. And then what? What would she say? Do?

Too, I had to talk to Lyndie. I had to.

Speaking of…

“Would you be offended if I said you looked like a zombie?” she asked, appearing at my side in the office’s lobby.

“Like, the sad and mopey type?” I asked. “Or the kind who are ravenous and dangerous?”

“Oh, the first one, for sure,” she replied, nodding. “You’ve got a real shamble going on. Though, that could just be your diaper, too. Are you wearing more than one today? A thicker diaper than usual, perhaps?”

“N-no,” I said, shaking my head. Though it was possible that, in my sleep-deprived state, I hadn’t affixed the diaper’s tapes as tight as I usually did–making my diaper fit a little more loosely.

“You look dreadful. Can I get you something? Coffee? Aspirin?”

Lyndie still sounded like a friend and ally. I wanted to trust her. I was tempted to ask her right then and there what had happened with her and Thomas Pritchard, but I bit my tongue. I wasn’t ready to talk about that–or much of anything–yet.

“No,” I said. “But I do appreciate it.”

“A baba, then?” she teased. “Your paci?”

I wondered how she’d react if I told her that I found her teasing to be comforting. The caring jabs of my loving…older sister, perhaps. And, honestly, the thought of suckling on a pacifier sounded quite nice.

“Not just yet,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Suit yourself, baby.”

We parted ways soon after–she’d be headed off to the nursery, while I’d have my morning check-in with Mommy.

“Ah, there’s my baby,” Mommy said as I closed her office door behind me. The sound of her voice–the very specific tone that she used when she talked to me–was still exciting.

“Good morning, Mommy.”

“Looking a little ragged this morning, Baby. A long night?”

Did I look that bedraggled? And did she know about where I was the night before, or was this just a playful question?

“I…I just didn’t sleep too well.”

“Aw, poor baby. Well, if you need, perhaps you can rest your head on Mommy’s breasts for a bit and take a snooze.”

“R-really?”

“Of course,” she said, nodding. “When you come over tonight, maybe                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              we’ll make some time for it.”

“Tonight…” I said. I had, somehow, completely forgotten that I had made plans with Mommy to go to her house. Any other week and I would’ve been obsessing over that. Now, it felt like a footnote to an otherwise intense week.

“You are still coming over tonight, yes?” she asked.

There was a small part of me–almost microscopic in size, though it still existed–that wanted to ask if we could reschedule.

“Of course,” I said, nodding.

“Excellent. I was originally thinking that I’d have a car pick you up from your apartment, but I don’t see why you can’t just come home with me after work. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“Now then. Let’s see how this morning’s diaper is looking.”

While Mommy, herself, could still excite me–rather easily–the routine of the morning diaper check no longer seemed as humiliating as it once did. This was just how business was done around here.

“Dry,” she said, a bit of disappointment in her voice. “Not only that, but you did a pretty shoddy job of putting this diaper on. Did you put this on before you went to sleep last night?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“I can’t help but wonder if you would’ve slept better with a better secured diaper.”

I doubted she was right, though I would never know for sure. “Maybe.”

“You haven’t had a morning tinkle, Baby?”

Tinkle. I had to hand it to her, she could still bring out the redness in my cheeks with just a single childish word.

“N-no, not yet, Mommy.”

“I’m concerned that when you do finally wet yourself, you’re going to leak all over the place. You probably don’t want to have soggy pants while at work, hmm?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.

“I think it’d be in your best interest to be supervised while you pee yourself then.”

I nodded, my cheeks maintaining their current shade of pink.

“That said,” she continued, shrugging, “I have a meeting or two this morning that I need to be in. As much as I’d love to watch you fill your diaper, I don’t think I’ll have time. So, how about I send you off to Lyndie’s? She can make sure there’s no trouble. And, when you’re done, she can even get you into a brand new diaper. Win-win.”

I swallowed nervously. I wasn’t ready to talk to Lyndie yet. But I also couldn’t tell Mommy that. I didn’t want to accuse Lyndie of wrongdoing until I knew for myself.

Maybe fate needed me to just get that conversation over with.

“Okay,” I said.

“Perfect. Pull up your pants and head on over. I’ll call her and let her know you’re on your way.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

She leaned in, kissing my forehead. “Such a good baby. I’m looking forward to tonight, you know.”

“M-me too.” It was sort of true.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said as I hoisted my pants up and began making my way towards the door.

“Yes?”

“I made you a reservation at Ferdinand’s tomorrow morning. 10:00 AM. Trust me, your mother’s panties will be blown right off after she tastes their food.”

“I’m not sure I want to see that…”

“Just don’t look,” she winked. “And, as promised, I’ll foot the bill. I’ve already made the arrangements.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” I said, feeling genuinely grateful. Still, I couldn’t fully consider, or appreciate, her gesture just yet. There were still a few steps to go before I could start thinking about my mother’s arrival again.

Between the morning coffee finally kicking in and the release of endorphins I got from visiting Mommy, I felt a little less zombie-ish as I made my way to the nursery.

But it also could’ve been my bladder that was adding some pep to my step. I was long overdue for my morning piss, and just talking about using my diaper seemed to remind my body that this was the most urgent of matters.

“I’m glad that I wasn’t the only one concerned about your shoddy diapering job this morning,” Lyndie said as I entered the nursery. “I’m glad she sent you over to me. Mommy knows best, you know?”

I sighed and nodded. I wished I could’ve been a little more animated–even if I was just faking it. But I found it hard to look her in the eyes.

“Shoes off, pants off,” she ordered. “Just in case there’s a leak. It’s for your own good.”

I did as she asked, silently pulling my clothes off and setting them aside.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” she said. “What’s up with you?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I said. It had been a good enough excuse for Mommy, and I hoped it would be here too.

“Sure,” she said, nodding. “But it’s something else, isn’t it? Some sort of stress.”

“W-well…my mother is coming over tomorrow. And I’m going to Mommy’s house tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Lyndie cooed. “She told me about that! I bet that’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm,” I said. I hoped that sounded convincing.

“Well, whenever you’re ready, you can, uhm, start peeing. I’ve got an eye on your pampers.”

I wanted to pee so badly. My body was craving release. And yet, I held strong. I wasn’t ready to go just yet. It wasn’t even a completely conscious decision–as if my body was holding the satisfaction of release for ransom. You can fill your diaper after you’ve talked to Lyndie.

“Actually…there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“I, uhm, stopped by the nursery yesterday afternoon because I needed a…change.”

“Hm,” she said. “I don’t recall seeing you.”

“Right,” I continued. “I didn’t actually come in. I got up to the door and I saw someone coming out.”

“Ah,” Lyndie said, nodding. “I see. You saw Anderson.”

“Thomas Pritchard,” I said. “Yeah.”

“I suppose that probably looked pretty odd.”

“Mommy–er, Ms. Heller–said that Pritchard knew about things he shouldn’t have. Like…diapers. She thinks that he might be…talking to someone.”

“I see,” Lyndie said, slowly nodding. “And you see him leaving the nursery yesterday and leap to the assumption that he and I are in…cahoots?”

“Lyndie, I’m trying very hard not to assume anything at all. I didn’t say anything to Ms. Heller–I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Surprisingly mature for someone who was sent to me because I had to watch them piss in a diaper.”

I shrugged. “You’re my friend. You deserve the chance to explain yourself.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Clarky. I might have broken a few rules.”

I sighed. “Th-there’s still a chance we could correct this, you know? We could go and talk to Ms. Heller and…”

“I’m not a mole,” Lyndie said. “He knew about things like diapers before I ever invited him into the nursery.”

“Then…why did you invite him in at all?”

“Do you know what I hate most about corporate life, Clarky?”

I shrugged.

“Bureaucracy,” she said. “Systems. You can’t just do anything. You have to have meetings. And a project manager. A committee. Then more meetings. It has to get approved by countless departments–people you’ve never seen or heard of before. And I saw that happening here. They’ve got lawyers. The board. They’re working up contracts and non-disclosure agreements. It’ll all have to get vetted and rubber-stamped. And for what? So some dickhead can feel vindicated?”

“Lyndie, what did you do?”

“I did business my own way,” she said. “I cut out the middlemen–all of them–and took matters into my own hands.”

“But…what did you do?”

“I showed him the nursery.”

“You didn’t...”

“I did,” she said, her smile growing wide across her face. “He was so eager to be promoted. The poor little thing was suffering from some real FOMO, you know? He wanted what you had. And, so, I offered it to him. I showed him what it was like to get the promotion that you did.”

“You actually… He actually liked what he saw?”

“I think so,” Lyndie said, nodding. “You know, your Mommy has taught me a lot of things, but the biggest lesson I’ve learned is that some boys just have this primal need to be controlled and, well, coddled. He’s not any different. He has this cute little fantasy of standing up to the corporate suits and blackmailing them. But I’m offering him an alternative, and I think he might bite.”

“Diapers?”

She shrugged. “You should’ve seen the way he looked at them, Clark.”

“And so what now?” I asked.

“We wait,” she said. “We’ll see if he comes crawling back to the nursery. Maybe even literally. If he does, I’ll put him in a nice thick diaper and ask him nicely to knock off all this nonsense.”

“And if he doesn’t want that? Or doesn’t come back?”

She shrugged again. “Then it’s corporate’s problem. Let the lawyers eat him alive. Though I have a feeling I’ll be seeing him again.”

“Nobody knows about this? Not Ms. Heller? Ms. Beaufort? Ms. Tamberlin?”

“Not yet.”

“I don’t think Mommy’ll like this much.”

Lyndie laughed. “No, I doubt she will either. But you know what they say: it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. And if my plan takes Thomas off the table, she’ll likely be thanking me.”

It seemed like a bit of a dangerous gamble to me, but I kept my mouth shut. So far, I didn’t have to be a part of this drama, and I preferred it that way.

“Now then,” she said. “Are you feeling better? Can we still be friends?”

I exhaled–releasing a good amount of the stress I had been holding inside. I may not have completely agreed with Lyndie’s methods, but I knew she was still looking out for everyone. She wasn’t a turncoat. It was so relieving that I could’ve cried. And I almost did–my eyes were welling with tears, ready to deploy them down my cheeks.

Instead, I felt my bladder finally being unleashed.

“Oh, would you look at this,” Lyndie cooed. “Someone’s finally going potty in their diaper.”

I opened my mouth to try and respond, but I couldn’t summon any words. All I could do was pee. It felt so good that, when I finally could make a sound, I just moaned softly.

“I bet that feels good, hmm?”

“Mmhmm…”

Mommy had been right, though. I could feel some moisture in places it shouldn’t have been. Like trickling down my leg, for example. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how this would’ve played out if I had wet myself with my pants still on. Where would’ve I been when it happened? Who would’ve been there to see it?

Lyndie noticed it as well. “Oopsies. Looks like someone did have a little leak. What were you even thinking when you put this diaper on?”

I didn’t see the point in answering. She knew I had been stressed and tired. And the truth–that I had been out late with Ava–was still a secret. And what an exciting secret to have. After weeks of giving so much of myself–and my dignity–to Mommy, it felt good to have something that was just mine and Ava’s. I wondered if she felt the same way.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you toddle around in full diapers,” Lyndie said, “this one just has to go. Why don’t you get up on the changing table and I’ll show you how a diaper is actually supposed to fit.”

Her words struck a humiliating chord with me. I may have had my excuses for why the diaper wasn’t properly fastened, but she was right–I’d need an adult to show me how to put a diaper on. A baby like me couldn’t be trusted to do it myself.

Soon, my legs were spread and lifted in the air as she stood between them to tend to the soggy padding between them.

“At least you’re not poopy this time,” she said, her lips curled into a playful smirk.

Come to think of it, my bowels could also use some evacuating. I wished I had thought of that sooner–I’d have probably emptied them into my bowels while I was pissing myself. Now, it felt disrespectful to mess in a brand new diaper.

Though, a naughty little thought came to mind. I imagined her pulling open my sodden diaper, exposing my cage and ass. As she reached for the wipes, I’d push. There, atop the changing table, and with no diaper covering me, I’d just start pooping. She could see it all–she’d watch as the filthy little present slowly emerged from my back door. Going wherever it needed to go. Nothing to divert or contain the foul odor.

I didn’t do it. But I wanted to. My extended stay in chastity seemed to be pumping the naughtiest thoughts into my mind. More and more, I found myself imagining scenarios that made me…

“I haven’t seen you blush like that in quite a while,” Lyndie said, wiping my skin clean with one of the damp wipes. “Certainly not during a routine diaper change. What are you thinking about?”

“N-nothing…”

She laughed to herself as she went about her task. “If you say so.”

I was happy she didn’t press me for more information. As resolute as I was to keep that to myself, I also knew that I was prone to doing–or saying–stupid things when backed into a corner.

“Oh,” she said, as she pulled the sodden diaper away from me. “One more thing. Tomorrow? Brunch? Am I still joining you and your mother?”

I sighed as I gave myself one more opportunity to ponder the ethics of this plot. Was it wrong to lie to my mother? To use Ms. Heller’s money and Lyndie’s friendship to paint a picture that was a bit off from reality?

But Lyndie was more than a friend. She was a valuable weapon. She was adaptable–as seen with the way she embraced her new role as office diaper-changer. As seen with the way she took it upon herself to confront Thomas. If anyone was going to help keep my mother off my back, it was Lyndie.

“If you can still make it,” I said. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Excellent,” she said, as she unfolded a fresh diaper to slide under me. “Your mother is going to love me.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”