Doing Business, Part 65 (Patreon)

Need to catch up with the Doing Business saga so far? I have you covered. 

Sixty-Five

You could almost see the gossip spread across the office like a wildfire consuming a forest. Small groups of huddled bodies collected, each of them murmuring and whispering. I could only imagine what they were saying to each other. Speculating, no doubt. They were comparing notes. Everyone probably had their own version of what they saw.

These were the events that lead up to Thomas Pritchard’s diaper being exposed to his co-workers, as best as I could piece together from gossip and eye-witnesses:

Thomas Pritchard had shown up to work that morning, dressed like a normal adult. There were some who insisted that he was ‘obviously’ wearing a diaper under his pants–though the reasons this was ‘obvious’ seemed to differ from person to person. Some said it was the obvious bulge in his pants. Some said the back of the thick diaper was sticking out of his pants for anyone to see. I heard one story, second-hand, that suggested that his diaper seemed ‘purposefully’ on display, as if he wanted someone to challenge him about it.

And that was what happened, apparently. He was challenged.

Again, the truth gets a little murky when everyone seems to have a different version of the story. Everyone can seem to agree that it started because somebody had an issue with Thomas that morning. Depending on the version of the story you heard, he might have been loudly rubbing his diaper through his pants, sucking his thumb at his desk, or even squatting down next to his chair to make a deposit into his pants. Someone–perhaps even many someones–were distressed enough about this that they went to management or HR. Or, maybe, they went to management who, in turn, went to HR.

Considering how many close calls I’ve had in the office, I was curious to know how obvious Thomas was being if that is when people finally reached out to HR.

That’s when Nancy Tamberlin stepped in, everyone can agree on that. And most would agree that she was the best person to handle the situation too, seeing as how she was the director of HR. Of course, nobody else would know that she was also qualified to handle this situation due to her involvement in the ‘bizarre interoffice diaper-cult.’

Ms. Tamberlin tried to steer Thomas away from people. She just about begged him to follow her to her office so that they could discuss the situation. He seemed uninterested. Again, most folks seem to agree on that.

She said something to Thomas that set him off. Maybe she whispered it to him, or maybe nobody was close enough to have heard what it was. But he seemed upset. Offended even.

“I don’t care!” Everybody who was there heard him say that.

She tried reasoning with him again.

“I just want to be one of them,” he said to her. “How do I get treated like that too?”

At that point, he decided that he needed to speak to Gabrielle Heller. Or so he said. Because she would straighten this out. She would fix whatever wrong he felt he was experiencing.

This is where the story gets a little fuzzy again. Somewhere between Thomas’s desk and the area in front of Ms. Heller’s office door, Thomas’s pants seemed to have been pulled down to reveal his diaper. There are some versions of the story in which Ms. Tamberlin had tried to pull his pants up, because his diaper was already showing and she thought she was helping–only for Thomas to move in such a way that she accidentally ended up pulling them down. Other versions state that he, himself, pulled his pants down. As one version of the story went: “He had this look in his eyes, like he was absolutely determined to get whatever it was he wanted.”

That latter story made sense to me. It was kind of relatable. Because while I had never talked to Thomas Pritchard about diapers–about much of anything, really–I knew the feeling of wanting those strange pleasures so badly that you could lose control of yourself. Whatever Lyndie had done with him in the nursery, it had unlocked something that he needed more of.

Or so I’d assume. It was the only explanation that made sense to me.

For a while, Ava and I tried to blend in with the masses. We listened to the stories and tried to act as shocked as everyone else was. Which wasn’t all that hard to do–Thomas’s actions were still pretty crazy to us too. But we could still feel skeptical eyes on us. Maybe because of our connection to Lyndie and the executives who were currently talking to Thomas. Or, perhaps, there was an underground world of gossip and speculation about the strange things that happened behind closed doors in our office building–and Thomas’s meltdown served only to bring those conversations to the surface.

Nobody was saying anything rude to us. Nobody was excluding us from the conversations. But there was this unspoken tension between us and everyone else that was a little uncomfortable.

“Should we get out of here?” Ava asked.

“Where?”

“Follow me.”

If I was of a slightly more level head, I probably would have guessed the destination. But it wasn’t until I saw the name placard by the closed office door that I realized where Ava had led me. It was Ms. Beaufort’s office.

“Have you, uhm, heard about what happened?” Ava asked as we walked in, closing the door behind us.

“I have,” Ms. Beaufort said, maintaining a calm and composed disposition. “A shame I didn’t see it for myself, though.”

“I assume this has never happened before?” I asked.

She shook her head and offered a comforting smile. “No…it hasn’t. I imagine we wouldn’t be talking right now if it had.”

“So…do you think this is the end?” asked Ava, stealing the question from me.

Ms. Beaufort shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to that, sweetie. But it’s probably going to shake some things up, at the very least.”

“What was he thinking?” I muttered. But even as the words came from my mouth, I knew that it wasn’t just Thomas’s fault. I felt like we were actually children again–having played a game that got a little too out of hand, and now the adults had to step in and take control.

“What are we supposed to do?” Ava asked Ms. Beaufort. “Go back to our desks and work?”

“You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need,” Ms. Beaufort responded.

I did wonder if we were further incriminating ourselves in the eyes of our peers by hiding out in an office. But even if that were true, I still thought I preferred that over the curious glares of strangers walking past my desk.

“I’m worried that Lyndie is going to get in trouble,” I said.

Ms. Beaufort offered a curious raise of her eyebrow. “How would this come back on Lyndie?”

Ava was looking at me too, also seeking an answer. It occurred to me that while Ava knew some of the story, she probably didn’t know nearly as much as I did.

“She was talking to Thomas,” I said. “Offering him, uhm, similar treatment to what we get in exchange for him not blabbing to the board.”

“Ah,” she chuckled. “I see.”

“No offense,” Ava said, though it wasn’t clear which of us she didn’t mean to offend. “But…I think this is exactly why I’m leaving. I like, you know, being treated the way that I’m treated. But, the rest is such a mess.”

“That’s fair,” Ms. Beaufort sighed. “I think we–all of us–didn’t realize how big this little game had become. And the bigger it gets, the harder it is to control.”

“I guess this was inevitable,” I mumbled, not fully realizing that I was saying the words out loud.

“Hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?” Ms. Beaufort asked. “And speaking of looking at hinds–Ava, how’s your diaper holding up, sweetpea?”

Ava’s cheeks blushed as shot me a look to assess whether or not I was smiling at her mommy’s question. “I mean, uhm…it’s not completely dry.”

“Come here,” she beckoned from the other side of her desk. “I’d like to check for myself.”

It was a scene I had witnessed a thousand times. Except, usually, I was the one getting my diaper checked. In a lot of ways, it looked identical to how it’d play out when Mommy checked my diaper–Ms. Beaufort pulled the back of Ava’s pants and diaper open so she could look in. Her hand felt the weight of the diaper between Ava’s legs. She even brought her nose a little closer to Ava’s bottom to give a little sniff. It was probably something that Ava had experienced a thousand times herself–but it was embarrassing today because I was there to see it.

“Wet,” Ms. Beaufort said. “Wet enough that we should probably do something about it.”

Ava’s eyes slowly glanced in my direction. “I…don’t need to be changed now do I?”

“I worry that waiting any longer just gives you more time to have another accident, sweetie. And I don’t think this diaper is going to hold another accident.”

“F-fine…”

“Are you nervous because Clark is here?” Ms. Beaufort asked, glancing in my direction.

Ava offered a stubborn shrug. It was the most childish I think she had ever looked to me. I could certainly relate to the hesitation. Despite the fact that Ava and I had seen far more of each other’s bodies that anyone knew, I’d still be blushing if Mommy wanted to change my diaper in front of Ava.

“Maybe.”

“Well, we should make it fair, then. Clark? Come here. Let me check your diaper too.”

I was wet, I knew that. I had been a little wet when Mommy checked me earlier, and I had deposited a little extra wetness into my padding somewhere between then and now. And so it was my turn to blush. Again, I was no stranger to diaper checks–but having Ms. Beaufort be the one to check was certainly new to me.

“Also wet,” she mused, her hands carefully squeezing and pulling at my pants as she investigated. “Wet enough, I think, that I might as well take care of both of you babies at once. Your mommy will be happy I did.”

Was that a slight smirk I saw on Ava’s face?

“This’ll be fun,” Ms. Beaufort continued. “Let’s move these chairs out of the way. The two of you can park your soggy cabooses right here on the floor next to each other.”

Ava and I did as we were told, exchanging a few humiliated glances as we plopped ourselves down on the floor, a small chorus of crinkles emanating from our padded bottoms.

“Those are some good babies,” Ms. Beaufort cooed as she opened up a desk drawer, pulling out the all-too-familiar diaper changing supplies–including fresh diapers. Fresh pink diapers.

I was reminded of the day I was officially made Mommy’s little baby–the day she first put the chastity cage on my cock. She had sent Ava and I off to get our diapers changed with Ava, which brought us to Ms. Beaufort’s office. I had to settle for a pink diaper that day too–as it was all that Ms. Beaufort kept on hand.

If Megan were here, she'd almost certainly approve of me being in pink diapers.

To Ms. Beaufort’s credit, she didn’t acknowledge the color.

“Auntie?” asked Ms. Beaufort as she began pulling down my pants.. “I kind of like the sound of that. I’m Ava’s Mommy, but your Auntie. Call me ‘Auntie,’ Clark. I’d like to hear how that sounds.”

“Uhm…Auntie…”

“No no,” she chuckled. “Don’t just say the word. Use it like you’re actually talking to me.”

“Okay, how about…” I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to say, and so I just opened my mouth and spit out whatever half-developed thought I had: “Th-thank you for changing my diaper, Auntie.”

“Oh, wow,” Ms. Beaufort said with an approving nod. “I am rather fond of that.”

I found myself thinking about what kind of mommy Ms. Beaufort might be as I felt her pulling my pants down my legs. Whereas my Mommy did have a more maternal side to her, she often seemed more interested in teasing and embarrassing me. And while Ava had made mention of feeling humiliated in the presence of Ms. Beaufort, I wasn’t sure that she had ever said that Ms. Beaufort was actively trying to humiliate her. That sweet smile and warm expression? It was hard to believe that she was anything other than the most kind and nurturing woman.

I wondered how she took the news that Ava was leaving the company. Because, assumedly, it also meant the end of their relationship. Would either be the same after that?

“Hrm,” Ms. Beaufort hummed, squeezing the bottom of my diaper before untaping it. “It’s a good thing we’re doing this, Clark. This is even wetter than I thought it was.”

I felt my entire face warm as I nodded. From my periphery, I could feel Ava’s face pivoting to face me. She was watching my expression. And smiling.

Somewhere out there, on the other side of Ms. Beaufort’s office door, people were still talking about the Thomas Pritchard incident. They were further proliferating stories, chock full of assumptions and third-hand knowledge. Were they talking about us? What did they know about us? What did they think they knew about us?

Meanwhile, only a few feet from where employees might be converging and gossiping, Ava and I were laying on the floor, our diapers getting changed. A process that was so normal for us that I realized that I was barely even thinking about it as I felt my legs being lifted into the air so that I could be thoroughly wiped.

“Ava, dear,” Ms. Beaufort cooed. Her voice was incredibly beautiful when she cooed, too–that accent just made it sound like a song. “What’s wrong? You look pale. Distressed.”

“I…I just can’t stop thinking about Lyndie. I don’t want anything to happen to her. Or…any of us.”

“Ah. It’s been a stressful day, hasn’t it?”

Ava offered a very slight nod.

“I think I know what would make you feel better though…”

I was quite sure that I saw Ava’s eyes lighting up. “R-really? Now?”

“Would it help?”

“M-maybe,” Ava said. “But…”

Ms. Beaufort was pulling the front of the fresh diaper through Ava’s legs. “Yes?”

“W-well…maybe Clark needs some too?”

Ms. Beaufort laughed as her head turned to me. “Are you feeling a little distressed, Clark? Ava likes to suckle when she’s feeling upset. But there’s plenty of room for you as well–if you’d like to partake.”

I had found myself daydreaming of the taste of her breastmilk since I had tasted it on the day I had been passed around the room, spanked, and put into chastity. I often wondered if I’d ever get to try it again.

“W-would that be okay?” I asked. I felt my cheeks warming again.

“Of course,” she smiled.

She put the finishing touches on each of our diapers, pulling them closed and taping them up. It wasn’t until she was done that I caught the faint scent of baby powder in the air. It never failed to make me feel a little embarrassed. And small–it always made me feel very small.

Again, I wondered: If we always smell like babies…people have to know, right?

Maybe that’s what they were talking about out there.

Ms. Beaufort sat down on the floor herself, slowly unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it open. Her full breasts hung in front of her–barely held in place by her bra. I felt my mouth watering as I stared at them.

“You look hungry, Clark,” Ms. Beaufort teased.

My face felt hot as I struggled to speak. “Oh, well…uhm…I just…”

“I remember feeling like that once,” Ava chuckled. “Do you remember? I used to giggle like a little girl every time you opened your shirt.”

“This process does seem to go a little quicker now that I don’t need to wait for you to compose yourself every time,” Ms. Beaufort nodded as she pulled down the silky panels of the front of her bra to expose her nipples. “Come here. Why don’t you get started on the right while we wait for Clark here to pull himself together. He can have the left nipple.”

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation for Ava, as she practically dove right in.

I felt awkward. I wanted to stare, but it felt rude to, so I found myself looking in random directions. Was I supposed to just…jump in and start sucking? Nobody ever teaches you the social protocol for a situation like this.

“It’s okay,” she cooed to me. “Come here, Clark. I won’t bite. And if you bite…well, that’s okay too. It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”

I looked towards the door, imagining it suddenly opening so that the three of us were exposed. Suddenly, I felt incredibly paranoid about being caught. A strange thing, really, as I had probably been in countless situations over the last few weeks where I was at risk of exposing myself to the wrong people. I had always been nervous about it, but I trusted people like Mommy and Ms. Beaufort to protect us. But Thomas had to go and blow everything up. Whatever slight sense of safety I had before was gone.

“The door is locked,” she said to me. “I promise, we’re safe here. We can worry about everything else later. For now, come closer and have a taste. I promise you that it’ll make you feel better.”

Ava certainly seemed to be doing better. All I could hear from her was a constant stream of wet suckling, occasionally accented by the sound of her little moans. That seemed to be all the argument I needed–if Ava could take this moment to distract herself, then I could too.

I crawled towards Ms. Beaufort, slowly bringing my head towards her available nipple. The closer I got to it, the more I felt I was overthinking it. I don’t remember how to suckle. What if I hurt her? What if I make a mess? Am I just supposed to…put my face in her chest? But Ms. Beaufort, seemingly sensing my hesitation, gently placed her hand at the side of my head, her fingers wrapping around the back of it. She helped guide me to her nipple, and once I was there, I just opened my mouth and hoped that my body would just know what to do.

It did. My lips took her nipple into my mouth, and I just seemed to know exactly what to do. I was suckling. Drinking. I felt the warm milk drain into my mouth, and I swallowed.

The world around me faded away. Thomas didn’t exist in this world anymore. Neither did any of the mayhem he had created. I was just a stupid little baby again, and I had no purpose for anything beyond sucking on this tit. I was small. I was an infant. My limbs felt weak and useless. If it wasn’t for Ms. Beaufort’s hand–still on the side of my head and pressing my face into her chest–I could imagine myself just rolling away from her body and collapsing on the floor until someone came to pick me up again.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Ms. Beaufort cooed, though I wasn’t sure who she was talking to. “I just put you in this diaper.”

Was that me? Had I just used my diaper? No, I didn’t think so.

Ava offered an apologetic moan as she continued feeding, seeming to confirm that she was the guilty party.

We were all clustered together there on the floor. Ava and I’s hands reached towards each other–partially because we wanted to be as close as we could be in this moment, and partially because we needed each other’s help in sitting up.

I wasn’t sure how we decided we were done. Maybe when we were…full. Our bellies, or just our emotional needs. But we both broke free from Ms. Beaufort’s chest at about the same time, each of us snuggling into her lap.

Somewhere between being breastfed and forming a little cuddle pile with Ava and Ms. Beaufort, I lost all concept of time. We had either been wrapped around each other for a few minutes or a few years. And despite how intimidating and mysterious the world outside of the office would feel later, I at least felt safe for the moment.

And then the phone rang, seeming to awaken all three of us from whatever blissful shared dream we were in.

“I’d normally let that go to voicemail,” Ms. Beaufort shrugged. “But…it might be important.”

We knew what ‘important’ meant: It might be about today. And what happens after today.

“Are you okay?” I asked Ava as Ms. Beaufort stood up and went to her desk.

She nodded. “I’ll be fine. You?”

“I might just live.”

“Do you think Lyndie’s alright?” she asked.

“If anyone is alright, it’s Lyndie. She knows how to take care of herself.”

In the background, we could hear Ms. Beaufort talking on the phone, though we weren’t paying much mind to the conversation.

“Clark, I…” Either she didn’t actually know what she wanted to say, or she just chose not to say it. Not that I could blame her either way–my mind was also a complete mess.

We both noticed at the same time that Ms. Beaufort was hanging up her phone. Our eyes shot towards her, anxiously awaiting for any sort of update. But whatever it was, it seemed hard for her to say aloud. She bit her bottom lip and sighed, shaking her head.

“Wh-what is it?” Ava asked.

“It might be best if we send Clark back to Gabby’s office. She…says she has some things to talk to him about.”

I opened my mouth, ready to ask for her to elaborate–but I realized that whatever the news was, it was probably better heard from Mommy herself. Instead I nodded.

“I guess I’ll head over,” I said. “I’ll see you later?” I didn’t necessarily mean for it to be poised as a question–but my nervousness took over by the end, filling me with the fear that whatever I was about to learn would mean that I wouldn’t see these two again.

“Of course,” Ava said. “Good luck.”

It felt like the longest walk I had ever taken within the building. Ms. Beaufort’s office wasn’t even that far from Mommy’s. But every single step felt like it had to be perfectly timed and coordinated. I felt like I was overthinking every move my body made. Are people looking at me? Studying my pants?

I couldn’t tell. I didn’t think anyone was watching me all that closely, but I was pretty sure that I’d feel eyes on me for the rest of time working in this office. Hell, maybe all those eyes had been on me all along and I just hadn’t noticed before.

I felt my diaper growing wet as I walked. Yep, I was wetting myself again. That’s new. Fear induced pissing? That was a fantastic new development in the ever-growing list of things I had to worry about.

I stood in front of Mommy’s office door for a minute. Two, maybe. I just wanted to compose myself before I went in. I didn’t know what to expect, but I figured that this probably wasn’t going to be a fun conversation.

I knocked on the door.

“Come in,” came her voice from the other side of the door. It sounded…normal?

Maybe it won’t be so bad, I thought as I opened the door.

But, then again, I was a baby. And babies aren’t known for their wisdom.