Doing Business, Part 54 (Patreon)

Need to catch up with the story so far? Check out this index to all chapters so far. 

Fifty-Four

Less than a day until my mother’s arrival. Not that I care anymore...

Who was I kidding? Of course I cared. I was just taking a break from caring. I’d care again later, I was sure. Hopefully well after I enjoyed my night with Mommy.

“Are you about ready to go?”

“Y-yes, Mommy. Ready whenever you are.”

“I just have a few small things to take care of before we go,” she said from behind her desk. “But it won’t be long. In the meantime, how’s your diaper?”

“It’s, uhm, not dry.” I opted to leave out the detail of how it was also ‘creamy.’ I’d file that away in the same secret folder as my night out with Ava.

“Should I send you to the nursery?”

I had just come from there not that long ago. I wondered if Thomas was still there with Lyndie.

“If you think it’s necessary,” I said, my cheeks glowing a little.

“I can’t expect Lyndie to do all my dirty work,” she said. “We can take care of this one when we get to my house. Unless you think you’ll leak before then. Or, contaminate it further…”

“N-no,” I said, shaking my head. “I think it’ll hold up.”

“Are you sure?” Mommy asked, her lips curling into a playful smile. “You’re not going to make poopies in your pants while you wait?”

I wasn’t sure if she was asking me to mess my diaper, or if she just wanted me to hear the words and be humiliated. If it was the latter, her plan was certainly working.

“I don’t think I could do that right now.”

“Aw, a shame. I was hoping I’d have to escort you out of the building while you left a scent trail behind you.”

“Sorry…” I still had no idea if she was just teasing me or not.

“I heard some interesting news today,” Mommy said, not looking up from her computer as her fingers quickly tapped away at her keyboard. Her expression had changed some–her grin had faded and she looked a little more serious.

“Interesting?” I wondered if she had found out about Thomas and Lyndie. Or Bradley and Lyndie. Or Ava and me. Or…maybe there were more secrets around here than I thought.

“You may know about this already, considering how close you babies seem to be these days.”

She paused long enough for me to swallow hard, my brain struggling to predict what she was going to reveal.

Mommy continued: “Neve informed me this afternoon that little Ava has submitted her two-weeks notice.”

My heart sank. Even though Ava had told me that this was her plan, I had still held out hope that she wasn’t going to go through with it. The knowledge that it had actually happened seemed to hit harder than if it would have been a complete surprise.

“Oh,” I said, a slight warble in my soft tone. “I didn’t know.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Mommy asked. Implication: “You aren’t close enough to know these sorts of things?”

“She…” I didn’t want to say too much, but I wanted to defend the level of friendship that Ava and I shared. “She mentioned that she might. But I didn’t think she was going to.”

She nodded. I was afraid that she’d next ask me why I didn’t tell her about it. To my relief, that wasn’t her question. “Do you know why she’d want to leave?”

“Well, I…”

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, cutting me off. “I shouldn’t ask you. This is Ava’s question to answer, not yours.”

I nodded, grateful that I wasn’t forced to answer that query.

“Does this mean that Ms. Beaufort would need a new assistant?”

“If she wants one,” Mommy answered, shrugging. “It’s not easy finding assistants who can be molded into perfect little babies.”

My face reddened again. “It didn’t seem that hard to find me.”

“You were quite the surprise, little Clarky. I just about stumbled into you in the hallway in front of my office. I don’t think we’ll ever have that sort of luck again.”

I briefly considered the possibility that there were other would-be babies in the office building. People who didn’t yet know how happy they’d be peeing in a diaper, or suckling their thumb. That red-headed girl in advertising, maybe. She had that look about her. Or that guy from IT with the glasses. I’d have been more surprised if he wasn’t dressing up in something kinky when he got home from work.

“It’ll be sad to see her go,” I finally said.

“I’m sure the two of you will stay in touch, yes? You seem to be getting closer.”

Was that an observation, or was she insinuating that she knew more than I had told her? I tried not to let myself get too paranoid about it. We were eating lunch together most days. That’s what friends do. Anyone could have observed that.

“I’m sure we will.”

“Please try not to be a pouty-puss all night,” she said, glancing away from her computer long enough to look at my face.

“Oh,” I said, not realizing how disappointed I must have looked. “N-no, I’ll be okay. I just wasn’t expecting that news.”

“I understand,” she said. “But, if you don’t mind, I’d like to distract you from all these real world problems tonight.”

My heart started beating faster. “Y-yes, Mommy. Please. That’s what I was hoping for.”

“I figured you’d be on board with that. I could use a distraction or two myself. Now then, are you going to poop yourself or not?”

“Were you serious about that?” I asked.

Her magic was already working. Ava’s departure was already being pushed to the backburner. My mother’s visit was very far out of sight. Thomas who?

“If baby’s tummy doesn’t have anything in it, I wouldn’t stress too much about it. But if you can? I’d encourage it.”

“I’ll, uhm, see what I can do,” I said.

“Good boy.”

My heart pounded as she went back to typing. In a moment, she reminded me of the building lust I was feeling just before coming to her office. The insatiable need that took me to the restroom so I could finger my ass and blow a load in my wet diaper. The diaper I was still wearing. I wondered if she’d be able to tell, later, that I had done that. Would there be traces of my sticky mess? Would the diaper smell different? And then what–I’d have to explain what I did. Because if she asked how I had managed to make my diaper so gooey, I’d probably tell her.

I tried pushing on my bowels a few times, hoping to awaken something in my digestive tract. There seemed to be no response. Probably for the best. I was slipping back into that desperate headspace again, and messy diapers seemed to push me a bit too hard while I was at work. If my recent experience with the executive team in Mommy’s office had been any indication.

I took a seat while I waited for Mommy to finish her work. Sitting in my dirty diaper set off another chain reaction of tingles and pleasurable aches. I felt another burst of pee trickle out of my cock. I didn’t even know I had to go–it just happened. It felt good–not just the extra bit of moisture added to my soaked diaper, but having been pushed to the point where I started using my diaper without thinking about it. This was exactly what I needed–to turn my brain off.

“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Mommy said from her desk. “Thinking naughty things, are you?”

I couldn’t have lied if I wanted to. “Y-yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“Oh, uhm…”

“No need to be bashful, Clarky. You should be able to tell Mommy anything.”

I should, shouldn’t I? There were things I hadn’t told her yet. I think? It was getting hard to think about those sorts of things.

“I wet myself again,” I said. “Just a little.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I didn’t know I was doing it until it was too late.”

“Ah,” she said. “I see. Someone’s turning into a little baby?”

“Uhm…”

“Why don’t you put your thumb in your mouth and suck on it for me,” she said. “You know how to do that, don’t you?”

Oh yes. I could handle that. I nodded enthusiastically, quickly slipping my right thumb into my mouth. I didn’t have to think about sucking on it, my body automatically knew just what to do with the thumb. Any decorum I might have had was gone now, as the room filled with the noisy slurps of my suckling.

“I do love that sound,” Mommy said. “Keep it up for me, Baby.”

I did as she asked, mindlessly sucking my thumb as she finished her tasks. The longer it went on, the deeper I felt myself slipping. I was shrinking. At this rate, I’d need her to carry me out of the building.

“I think that should do it,” Mommy eventually said, standing up from behind her desk.

I felt like I was snapping out of a trance. How long had I been sitting there, wholly focused on the hypnotic rhythm of my thumbsucking?

“All, uhm, done?” I asked, needing an extra second to remember how to speak in sentences again.

“All done,” she sang. “What do you think? Shall we be on our way?”

“To our, uhm, dinner date?”

She laughed–one of those slightly harder-to-come-by laughs that felt a bit more candid and genuine. “Silly boy. Don’t think of this as a ‘date.’ Dates are all about getting to know someone. Courting. We’re not courting, right? I’m already your Mommy.”

“T-true…”

“This is just quality time. Bonding time.”

I was tempted to ask if she actually could just carry me out of the building. Had I asked–and had she been capable of doing it–I’d have happily sacrificed whatever scraps of my reputation were left with the rest of the staff in the building. Let them see who I truly was–the giant baby.

Instead, after we got our things together, I quietly followed her out of her office, through the expanse of cubicles, and into the elevator. The silence in the elevator seemed especially awkward to me–though I didn’t see any signs of discomfort on her face. Perhaps it was just me.

Still, I felt the need to break the silence: “So, uh, what’s on the menu?”

“Oh,” she said, grinning with amusement. “You didn’t believe me when I said I’d just feed you from some jars of baby food?”

“That’s fine by me,” I said. It was kind of true–I could see the act of her spoon-feeding me making up for how disgusting jarred food would be.

“You don’t have to lie, Clarky.”

“N-no, I’m serious,” I said. “I think it sounds good. Well…not good. I think I just want, uhm…” I figured I might as well just tell her the truth. “...I think I just want you to feed me.”

“That is most certainly the plan.”

“Good.”

“You’ll need a bib.”

“I don’t have a…”

“I got you a bib, Baby. You’re going to love it.”

I felt my cheeks warming–though, these days, I felt like I was blushing so much that the default state of my face was just pink. I’d be more surprised if I wasn’t feeling any sort of humiliation at all at any given moment. And I hoped such a day would never come.

Out of the elevator and back into Mommy’s SUV in the parking garage. It had been less than a week since the last time I was here–coming back from the airport. Time was strange–sometimes that felt like just yesterday. Sometimes it felt like it happened weeks ago.

The inside of the passenger-side door had a small compartment to hold things like a cup or…whatever else a passenger needed. There, at the bottom of the otherwise clean plastic cavity, was a wrapper from a piece of candy. That might have been from me–either going to or coming from the airport. I didn’t remember eating candy in her car. And so it could’ve been from some other passenger. A friend or colleague. A family member. Or…I wondered if it belonged to Hillary, who may have once sat in this very seat as Mommy took her someplace.

“Do you miss Hillary?” I asked. It was a bit more forward than I had intended for it to be.

“Hmm,” Mommy replied, the hum of someone who wasn’t expecting such a complicated question.

“Sorry…maybe that’s none of my business.”

“I wonder if it’s how a mother feels,” she said. “A, er, mother of an actual child, I suppose.” But she shook her head and groaned, not liking the sound of that either. She then started over again: “A parent knows when it’s time to let their child grow up and move on to do their own thing. I’m happy for her.”

“But do you miss her?”

“I do,” she said. “But not the baby. I miss her, as a person in my life.”

Mommy didn’t look sad–sadness wasn’t an emotion I could even picture her expressing. But there was some wistfulness in her face as she stared ahead and drove.

“Do you think that, one day, I’ll grow up?” I asked. “Move on?”

She laughed. “Clarky, I swear, you’re the cutest fucking thing.”

“But…”

“Yes, I think one day you’ll ‘grow up.’ One day you’ll outgrow your diapers, and your position as my assistant. You’ll meet some nice woman who will spank your bottom and make you happy.”

“Well….you spank my bottom and make me happy.”

She laughed again. “I think you know what I mean, Baby. Just promise me one thing?”

“Yes?”

“Do keep in touch with me when you’ve moved on. I like to see how my babies are doing.”

“Does Hillary…”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

And that’s when I saw sadness on her face. There was no way of knowing the specifics–and I certainly wasn’t going to ask–but I could easily speculate. She felt she had something special with Hillary, the same kind of special thing that she was building with me now. And then, one day, Hillary was gone–off to marry ‘some guy from Connecticut,’ as I recalled.

I was tempted to feel bad for her, but I was sure she’d be the first to tell me not to bother. Why would I feel bad for her? Because she was unmarried and had no children of her own? I was certain that she saw those as good things. No, she was living her best life with her ‘adopted children’–the ones she kept in diapers.

“I’ll always keep in touch,” I said. “That’s a promise.”

“You’re a sweet boy, Clarky,” she said, placing her hand on my lap.

I couldn’t say whether it actually came to me at that moment, or if I had come to the conclusion earlier, but just lacked the ability to put the feeling into words. But as I felt her hand on my lap, gently patting my thick diaper, I contemplated how there was the family you were born into, and the family you created for yourself. Mommy may not have been my biological mother, but in a relatively brief time, she left a mark on my life that I knew would be as important as any that Annette Lieland-Ashburn had.

And I wondered: How do I show Mommy how important she is to me?

The answer wasn’t all that mysterious. At almost that exact moment, I felt a familiar pang in my guts–that warning that, sooner or later, my bowels were going to need my attention.

As strange as it was–this was our love language.

It wasn’t hard. In fact, I’d say that it was easier than it had ever been before. I simply lifted half of my bottom up off the seat and pushed.  Almost immediately, a soft wet mound of mush was forced into my padding with a squelching SPLORP. The diaper expanded wherever it could, and I suddenly found myself sitting in the warm mess.

Mommy turned to me, laughing in disbelief. “D-did you just…”

I was tempted to apologize, but why would I? I wanted to do this. I wanted to poop my pants for her. This was what babies did, and it would now be up to her to clean me up–as a Mommy did.

“I had to go, Mommy.”

A single, joyous, “Ha!” burst from her lips and she shook her head. “Sweetheart, that smells atrocious.”

“I, uhm, did it for you.”

She laughed again, almost cackling like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard in her life. There were tears streaming down her face–happy tears, I guessed, based on how she laughed.

“Well that was a wonderful gift,” she finally said, her hand gripping the swampy diaper between my legs. “An awfully smelly one, but one that I’ll cherish regardless. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“We’re almost to my place,” she said. “A diaper change wasn’t the first thing on my agenda, but I think we’ll have to make it a priority.”

I nodded.

“And a bath too,” she said, squeezing my padding again. “You’re definitely going to need a bath.”