Doing Business, Part 52 (Patreon)

Fifty-Two

Lyndie was eating a salad from the salad bar. A spring mix base, I suspect–given the greens and purples of the leaves–with a colorful assortment of veggies on top of it.

I was eating a slice of pizza. I was grateful that the office cafe served pizza, but it wasn’t exactly ‘good.’ It reminded me of the cafeteria-pizza I’d get in elementary school–a slab of cardboard that seemed pizza-ish, though seemed to be missing the soul.

Ava had brought her own lunch. A sandwich on white bread, a bag of grapes, and a granola bar. I didn’t know if she packed her lunch or if her mother packed it for her–and I wasn’t about to ask. But, scrawled on the brown-paper bag, was ‘AVA’ in black marker. That seemed like something a mom would’ve done.

As Lyndie and Ava talked to each other, I found myself studying the lunches on the table, trying to determine if our lunches said anything about us or not. Was Lyndie’s lunch healthy and ‘adult?’ Was Ava’s lunch curated for her because she couldn’t take care of herself? Was my lunch simply nostalgic for an earlier part of my life?

Maybe it was just food.

“Earth to Clark,” Lyndie said, waving her hand in front of my face. Ava was giggling into her hand.

“O-oh… Uhm, sorry, did you say something to me?”

“Did you space out there, bud?” Lyndie asked.

“Maybe.”

“I asked who you thought might have told Thomas about the diaper stuff,” Ava said. “Because it wasn’t me. And it wasn’t Lyndie.”

“Well then, yeah. It has to be someone else, right?” I asked.

“The master detective, ladies and gentleman,” Lyndie said, rolling her eyes. Another burst of giggles from Ava.

“Lyndie seems pretty confident that it’s not Bradley,” Ava said. “I think I’d agree with that. He’d never want to stir the pot.”

“Plus,” Lyndie added, “I asked him.”

“Right. I forgot that you and he were tight now,” I said.

“Really?” asked Ava. “Like…how tight?”

“We’re friends,” Lyndie said.

“Bradley’s her little pet project,” I said. “She’s going to steal him away from Ms. Tamberlin.”

“I never said that!”

“Okay, okay,” Ava said. “We’ll, uh, come back to that later. So who does that leave? Just…Megan, right?”

Lyndie and I both nodded, and the table fell silent after. Megan was still a big mystery. She kept to herself. Mommy had once mentioned that she thought Megan wore a diaper from time to time, though Lyndie had never mentioned Megan stepping foot in the nursery before.

“I’ve never spoken to her,” Lyndie said.

“Neither have I,” I said.

“We’re not close,” Ava said. “But we’re friendly. Maybe I could…talk to her?”

It could be sensed in Ava’s tone, quite clearly, that she didn’t actually want to confront Megan. I was tempted to let Lyndie handle this for us, but between whatever she was doing with Thomas and her going to brunch with me and my mother the next day, it felt unfair to expect her to do this too.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ava.

“I mean, she’s not scary, right? She’s not a witch or a monster. She’s just…a girl. She’s one of us.”

“Are you saying that you’re a girl too?” Lyndie asked, smirking.

“N-no…I’m saying that she’s an assistant. Like us. We’re all just…weird sex objects for people in positions of power. If she’s been telling Thomas things, then I’d want to know why. And if she didn’t…well, I think it’d be good if she was on our side.”

I ate my bland pizza. Lyndie complained about the lack of a decent vinaigrette at the salad bar. And we all had a good laugh when Ava pulled an actual juice box out of her lunch bag. Then, it was back to the ‘grind.’ Whatever that was–work didn’t really feel like ‘work’ these days. It was just the place I went to get my diapers changed and laughed at.

I had debated putting off my conversation with Megan until later–maybe even the next week. But I didn’t want anything else looming overhead while I went to Mommy’s house that night. Or during brunch the next day.

Mr. Yang’s office was near Mommy’s, but I was relatively sure that Megan actually worked out of the finance department on the floor below ours. Stepping off the elevator, I found a span of cubicles and desks that looked eerily similar to the one I was used to, but different enough that I had no sense of direction.

So I just wandered for a few minutes, hoping I’d find someone or something familiar. Instead, as I rounded a corner, I almost ran into Megan herself–we were just an inch away from knocking each other down on our asses.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hello,” she replied. She smiled, though it didn’t seem like the most sincere smile. It felt polite, at best.

“I was actually hoping to run into you. Well, not like actually running into you, but…”

“What’s up?” she asked, sparing me the awkwardness of my introduction.

“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” I asked.

She nodded. “Down this hall behind me. Third door on the right. I have to go drop off some files, but I’ll be back in a minute or two.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

So far, so good. I followed her directions, continuing down the hallway as I counted three doors on the right. And then I came to the closed door to an office. Whose office was this? I looked at the placard on the wall next to the door.

Megan Markley, Executive Assistant to the CFO

My heart sank a little. She had her own office? A fancy name placard? I was the assistant to the CEO and I didn’t have an office of my own. Was this something I had to know to ask for?

I turned the handle and walked into Megan’s office. It wasn’t nearly as big as the executive offices I was used to, but it was big enough. And private. Tastefully decorated, and the air smelled faintly of flowers. Perhaps the most surprising part of Megan’s office, other than her having one in the first place, was how adult it looked. Maybe we had been wrong to assume that Megan was one of us.

And, perfect timing, I felt myself pee a little–just an unconscious dribble that babbled from my caged manhood. I felt my cheeks flare–what a perfect summation of the difference between the two of us. She had an office. I was wetting diapers.

“Please, have a seat,” Megan said, entering the office herself now and closing the door behind her.

“This is a nice space,” I said.

“Thank you very much,” she replied, flashing that polite smile again as she took her seat on the other side of her desk from me. Her large leather chair looked leagues better than the rather standard-issue office chair I was using at my cubicle. Hell, it looked like it could give Mommy’s office chair a run for its money.

“May I ask how you were able to even get a room like this?”

“Is that what you came to talk to me about?” she asked.

“N-no.”

“I just asked,” she said. “I tend to get whatever I want.”

Another scan of Megan’s office revealed more details I hadn’t caught the first time around. There was paperwork and file folders. Binders. Thick wads of documents stapled and bound together. It was work. She wasn’t spending her days waddling around and peeing her pants. She was doing actual work here. Was this, too, what she wanted?

“You said you had something you wanted to talk to me about?” she asked.

“Yeah, actually.” But suddenly, the words felt harder to say than I thought they would. Here she was, obviously busy and important–and I was coming to her to talk about gossip involving diapers. It felt so trivial and embarrassing. Still, I couldn’t bail now. As much as it made me cringe, I had to say what I came here to say. “Do you know who Thomas Pritchard is?”

“I may have heard the name before. Who is he, exactly?”

I shrugged. “He’s a… Actually, I’m not entirely sure what he does here. But he’s another employee. Some low-level guy, I guess.”

“And what about him?”

I needed to be blunt–I needed to just spit it all out and see if she cared or not. “He knows about the assistants. Someone has been talking to him about the, uhm, diapers and all that.” My cheeks reddened again as I said the d-word in front of her. “He’s threatening to expose everything.”

“Hm,” Megan said, her eyes narrowing. “Did you come here because you thought that I had told him about those things?”

“M-maybe. No offense or anything. If you had, I just thought I could learn why you might have done that.”

“I didn’t tell anyone about diapers,” Megan said.

“Do you know anything about who would?”

She took a deep breath and sighed. I could’ve sworn that she was about to say something, perhaps even answer my question. Instead, she just shrugged.

She finally leaned back a little in her office chair and asked me a question of her own: “Do you like your diapers?”

It was my turn to take a deep breath. “I do, yeah,” I cautiously replied.

“And the chastity?”

I had almost forgotten that she was there in the conference room when Mommy had first presented the cage to me. Megan had been there to watch as I was passed down the line for a series of spankings.

“It’s a mixed bag,” I said, being more honest than I thought I’d be.

“We can be frank with each other, right?” she asked.

I could think of no reason why we couldn’t be. “Of course.”

“I’m rather fond of the chastity myself.”

“Oh, so you…” I stopped myself as I felt my cheeks redden again. I wasn’t sure what questions would or wouldn’t be appropriate to ask.

“I’ve still got one of those,” she said, possibly reading my mind. “Mr. Yang used to talk about bottom surgery, but…I think he’s rather fond of chicks with dicks. So it stays locked up until he needs it. Which is…often enough. But diapers. I miss those.”

“You don’t wear them anymore?”

She shook her head. “It used to be part of the, er, ‘aesthetic.’ Are you familiar with sissies?”

Early on, in my own diapered adventures, I had seen some references to sissies in my research about adult babies and ageplay kink. I had a general idea of what it was about. So I nodded, hoping I hadn’t made the wrong assumptions.

“He had fun with that for a while, but I don’t think we were on the same page about diapers.”

“How so?”

“Well, he didn’t want to change them. And I wanted to…use them.”

“A shame Lyndie wasn’t here then,” I said. “And the nursery.”

Megan shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have made a difference. He outgrew sissies and diapers. Cutesy things in general. He wants someone…sexy. Someone with some of these.” She pointed to her chest where a pair of ample bosoms seemed perfectly contoured by her tight shirt.

“And I take it that you’re, uh, happy with how things worked out?”

“If you’re asking if I’m happy to be Megan, then I can assure you that I am.”

“Good,” I said. “I take it that you and Mr. Yang must get along pretty well, then?”

She laughed–a loud and candid “Ha!” that I wasn’t sure how to react to. “I’m grateful for many things that Mr. Yang has done for me. But I do not like Darren Yang.”

“Oh.”

“Do you get along with Gabrielle?”

It always caught me off guard to hear Ms. Heller’s first name used casually. “I do, yeah. She’s been pretty good to me.”

“How is she good to you?”

The simplicity and bluntness of her question tripped me up again. I supposed I could’ve read the question as one of disbelief–like she didn’t think that Ms. Heller actually was being good to me. But I had answers for that question.

“She took me with her to Seattle last weekend,” I said. “We had a good time. And, uhm, she’s paying for a rather expensive brunch for me tomorrow morning.”

“Is that it?” Megan asked. “A business trip and a meal?”

I sighed. Fine, I’d dig a little deeper. I wanted to convince Megan that Ms. Heller really was treating me well.

“She changes my diapers. Buys me things. She, you know, pleasures me.”

“Buys you things like…more diapers?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you trying to make a point? I’m not exactly sure where we’re going with this.”

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just a little too cynical for my own good. I remain convinced that none of our executive ‘masters’ are really interested in doing what’s best for us. We aren’t people. We’re ‘just’ assistants. Worse–we’re just toys. But…if you feel that Gabrielle actually cares about you…well, what do I know?”

“She does,” I said. I felt confident about my answer, though she had embedded the slightest sliver of doubt in the back of my mind.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Honestly.”

I was looking around her office again–still in disbelief that all of this was hers. I was wondering if I, too, could be getting more from this arrangement.

“You said you just…asked? For this office?”

“I ask for a lot of things,” she said. “And I get what I want.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he’s paid for my appearance. And what do you think? Am I cute?”

“Yes,” I said, cheeks warming again. “Quite.”

“I have an apartment downtown,” she continued. “Guess who foots the bill for that? Likewise, take a guess at who is helping me get my master’s degree?”

“Just because you asked?”

“Because I asked,” she said. “And because I allow him to fuck me. Or, you know, he allows me to fuck him when it strikes his fancy. And, whatever. It’s just sex. One day I won’t need him anymore. I’ll have a ton of money saved because I don’t pay rent. I’ll have a master’s degree. A cute body. And I’ll go and do whatever I want.”

I had just been handed a lot to process and think about. I had a ton of questions–but what else was new?

“You said you missed diapers?” I asked.

She nodded. “I have some. But I don’t wear them much. Diapers are for babies. Babies need to be cared for. And…I guess I just don’t want to have to care for myself.”

“You know…you can talk to us. Like, myself and Ava. And Lyndie–she’s got that nursery now, you know? And if Mr. Yang didn’t want to change your diaper, I’m sure she would be up for it.”

She smiled–it felt like the first time I was seeing an authentic smile on her face. “Something changed around here recently. And not just your latest diaper.”

I felt my cheeks warming, though I tried to play it off like it didn’t faze me. “How so?”

“I’ve been here for a while. I’ve seen a few others like you and I come and go. Assistants, or whatever our leadership team likes to call us. I never really got to know anybody. We’d see each other at work functions or whatever and we’d acknowledge each other. But we didn’t really…talk. We weren’t friends.”

“Oh.” And there I was, wetting my diaper just a little bit more. I could feel the padding swell between my legs as I tried my hardest not to look distracted. Nope, not pissing myself while we talk. Nothing to see here.

“But something changed around the time you got mixed up in all this ‘assistant’ stuff,” she said. “Suddenly, I see you palling around with Lyndie and Ava. I saw the three of you eating lunch together again today, in fact. I saw Bradley and Lyndie walking down the hall together the other day too. Did you know Ms. Heller’s former assistant? Hillary?”

“I know of her.”

“We worked together for three years. We never had lunch together. We never even shared a text message. But then you show up, and suddenly there’s this little diapered friendship club going on.”

“I…I’m sorry if it feels like you're not welcome. Nobody has ever wanted to exclude you, I don’t think.”

“No, no,” she said. “It’s not that. I’ve excluded myself–I can’t hold that against anyone else. I only bring this up to say that I think it’s been a good change. The babies and the sissies and the…whatever it is that Bradley is–we should be banding together.”

“You should come have lunch with us,” I said. “Hang out with us after work.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” she said, nodding. “Thank you, Clark.”

“Of course.”

I may not have gotten what I wanted by visiting Megan, but I was still pretty glad that I had stopped by.

“I should probably get going,” I said, my eyes drifting to the stacks of folders and documents on her desk. “I don’t want to keep you from doing work.”

“You don’t have much to do?” she asked.

I laughed. “Not really. My busiest days are the ones where she asks me to make a dirty diaper.”

She chucked a little. “And is that your assignment for today?”

“Not today...”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I would’ve put all my own work aside to help you with that.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that–but I knew that I liked it. “If I ever need a hand, I’ll let you know.”

She sighed again–the same sigh I heard earlier when I thought she was going to tell me something more about Thomas Pritchard.

“I wasn’t going to say anything else,” she said. “But you’re more…likable than I thought you’d be.”

“You didn’t think I’d be likable?”

She shrugged, laughing a little to herself. “I didn’t think you’d be awful. I just wasn’t sure that I’d like you. Alas, you seem likable enough.”

“Gee, thanks. But does this mean you have something else to tell me?”

“Here’s the thing, Clark: This is valuable information. Information that could start upending the way things work in the company. In my life. I like you enough to tell you what I know. But I don’t think I could give it to you for free. Not when the lifestyle I’ve grown accustomed to is on the line.”

“I’d ask what the cost is,” I said. “But I’m not even sure what I’m buying.”

“That boy you mentioned earlier? Thomas Pritchard? What if I had a little bit more information about that whole situation?”

“I thought you said that…”

“I said that I didn’t tell him about the diapers. And that’s true.”

“Okay, fine,” I said. “What do you want from me?”

“It’s nothing bad,” she said. “And it might even be fun!”

Fun? I was already dreading this. Clark, the Office Punching-Bag. How badly did I want the answers to my questions? How did I know that I could even trust Megan? For all I knew, she’d ask something ridiculous of me, I’d do it, and then she’d reveal that she knew nothing all along and just wanted to fuck with me.

But also: Clark, the Big Baby Whose Thirst for Humiliation Could Never Be Quenched. A bit of an unruly name, but it didn’t make it any less true.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“Do you know what I miss, Clark? I miss being a little sissy baby. The little sissy I was when I first started working for Mr. Yang. Wearing diapers and being dressed up in cute clothes. I miss the way he’d make me practice my curtsies.”

I felt my heart racing. I still had no idea where she was going with this, but I could take a few guesses.

“I don’t think I could pull off that look now,” she continued. “Look at me. With these tits? This face? This hair? Being a sissy was more fun when I didn’t quite look the part. When I looked like a little boy dressing up as a little girl.”

“I-I’m sorry, Megan, but…what does this have to do with me?”

“Clark, has anyone told you before that you’d make an adorable little girl?”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Just once! Clark, please. Let me dress you up–just once. Please? I won’t tell a soul. And you’d look so cute. And then, when we’re all done, I’ll tell you everything.”

God. If anyone ever found out. Ms. Heller. Ava. Fuck…if Lyndie ever found out about this? I’d never hear the end of it.

But it was just once. And only Megan would know about it. And, in the end, it’d be for information that would help everyone else.

And…if I was being completely honest, I was a little curious.

“Just once?” I asked. “And you swear that nobody would ever know about it?”

“Not a soul,” she said.

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’m in. When did you want to do this? And…I’m assuming we wouldn’t do it here.”

“Are you free this weekend?” she asked.

“Well…I’m pretty busy on Saturday, but–”

“Perfect, Sunday works for me too. Here’s my number,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across her desk. “Text me later and let me know when you can drop by on Sunday.”

“Drop by…to your place?”

“Do you want me to come to your place?” she asked.

I did not want Evan to know about this either. “No, your place will be just fine.”

“Excellent. Text me, Clark.”

“I will.”

“And one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“Try to think of a cute girl name,” said Megan. “I’d like to know what to call my sissy friend.”