Doing Business: Memorandums II: Ava's Potty Training (Patreon)

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Ava’s Potty Training

There are four diapers left.

She knew the day would come, she just didn’t expect it to come so soon. She had gotten used to having diapers around. Many diapers. All the diapers. A seemingly infinite number of diapers. Everytime she needed more, Mommy provided–often without even asking if they were needed yet. It was actually one of the very first things she thought of when she realized she wanted to leave the company: Does this mean I have to buy my own diapers?

The diapers stopped coming. For a while, she didn’t really notice, because she had plenty of them. And then, one day, she noticed she only had four left.

She could have bought more. But she had already sworn to herself that she wouldn’t do that. She’d use up what she had–she couldn’t just let them go to waste–and that would be that.

But four? That felt more depressing than she thought it would. She was hoping there’d be, like, six or seven. Eight, maybe.

She wished she had kept a log of the last few diapers. Actually, it was a little surprising that she hadn’t. She wrote in her journal almost everyday–it was more of a lifestyle than a hobby.

She rarely ever mentioned diapers in her journal though. She certainly never used the name “Mommy” to refer to Neve Beaufort. She didn’t write about breastmilk, and she didn’t write about rubbing her diaper on Clark’s. Someday, she thought, someone else was going to read her journals. And she wasn’t sure she wanted them to know about that stuff. It was fine for them to read every other detail of her life, of course.

Three diapers ago…that was a good one. She had wet it, like, three times and rubbed her crotch against the bedpost so hard that the plastic lining tore and the pissy diaper-filler had spilled out. She hoped to replicate that in one of these last four.

Maybe I should start a new journal. One just for baby-stuff. Well, sure, that would’ve been great a few months ago. A year or two ago. But it was a little late now, considering that there were only four diapers left.

Four diapers ago…she wished she hadn’t changed out of that one so soon. She had barely even wet in it. What a waste. She wasn’t going to do that again. WIth these last four diapers, they had to count.

There was a missed call from Mommy. No, Ms. Beaufort. No, Neve. She was just checking in with Ava, as she did everyday. Ava suspected the separation was probably harder for Neve than it was for her. But it had only been a week since she left the company. It’d get easier over time, she thought. Eventually, Neve would probably stop checking in every day. She might start checking in every week. Every few weeks. A few times a year. Then, only on birthdays.

Jeez, that’s depressing. She’d probably need to find a way to write about that in her journal later.

She held the diaper in her hands–number one of four. She wondered if she should save them for another day. She’d just keep them on hand in case…there was an emergency?

She sighed and began to unfold it. Maybe she could save at least one of the other diapers for a future emergency–whatever a diaper-based emergency was. But she needed one now.

Her fingers seemed a little shaky as she fumbled with the shoulder straps of her overalls. For as frequently as she had told herself that she was ready to move on from diapers and infantile things, there was still this uncanny thrill that coursed through her body when she was about to put a diaper on again. She thought–hoped–that the feeling would fade over time.

But she had to be careful. She was still living with her mother–and that relationship had become increasingly more difficult to navigate.

There wasn’t any animosity or anger there, Ava didn’t think. Things were just awkward now. Very awkward.

She could still hear her mother asking that question: “Ava…are you one of those people who like to dress up as a…baby?”

Ava wanted to lie–she had never wanted to lie more in her entire life. But how else were you supposed to answer that question? Especially considering that her mother had already found adult-sized diapers in her bedroom. Maybe, if she were a few years younger and still in high school, she’d have feared the concept of ‘punishment,’ but that sort of thing really wasn’t on the table anymore. She was an adult. She had her undergraduate degree. She had a full time job.

And, so, she told her mother the truth. “Yeah…I have some, uh, interests. But you weren’t supposed to find those things. And I don’t want to talk about them.”

Obviously her mother had concerns–thus mentioning the diapers at all–but she seemed to agree to those terms. It wasn’t her business.

But the awkwardness that followed–and persisted since–was thick. It permeated the whole house. It was in every room. It was wedged between the two of them every time they attempted to have a conversation. They couldn’t even have a conversation about laundry detergent without there being this uncomfortable energy in the room.

The only reason she would be wearing a diaper now was because her mother was out of the house, and likely would be for the rest of the day. Otherwise–whether she thought she had the right to wear diapers in the privacy of her bedroom or not–she wouldn’t.

Her overalls fell to the floor in a heap around her ankles and she stepped out of them, kicking them aside. Flopping down on her bed, she quickly shimmied out of her pink panties too. The thick diaper was tucked under her bottom, with the front of it being weaved between her thighs. A fresh diaper had always been a good feeling, though she already found herself missing when someone else would be taking care of this part for her.

Mommy–no, Neve–would probably do it if she asked. One phone call was all that it would probably take. But then she’d put her breast in Ava’s mouth and this whole thing would start over again.

She could ask Lyndie. Hell, Lyndie offered almost everyday. But she wanted Lyndie to be her friend–not her caretaker.

So if she was going to wear a diaper now–one of her last four diapers–she was just going to have to do it herself. She wasn’t the best at diapering herself, but it didn’t have to be perfect–just functional. Basically, it just couldn’t leak. Because I plan on using the hell out of this poor diaper.

Staring up at the ceiling, as her hands rubbed the thick diaper, she kind of hated that this felt so right. As if this was the default version of herself. This mature woman she was striving to become? That was just an act.

She reached for her phone, pulling up Neve’s number. No, no, don’t do it. She then scrolled to Lyndie’s–thinking better of it once more. She even pulled up Clark’s number. Now there was a baby. Alas, she didn’t think that’d be a good move either.

She hadn’t heard from Clark in a bit, anyway. It was kind of understandable that he had fallen off the grid–he seemed to be making some big changes in his life. Diaper changes included. Still, it hurt a little that he hadn’t reached out. Besides, similar to spending time with Neve, she was sure that spending time with little baby Clark would probably undo any progress she had made in weaning herself off of the diapers.

Potty training. That’s what she had been calling it–the process in which she was slowly shedding the infantile part of her life that had become so consuming.

And why am I doing this again? Feeling that familiar and comfortable bulk between her legs was bringing out the hard questions. She knew the answer–she felt like she had fallen too deep into that lifestyle and wanted to take a break from it while she figured out how to do all that adulting she was supposed to be doing now–but she just didn’t care for it.

It only took about two minutes before she started pissing herself–the padding immediately swelling and warming as it absorbed the results of the excessive amount of water she had been drinking during the day.

“Yessss,” she audibly moaned, her fingers sinking into the squishy padding.

She lifted her legs into the air, playfully kicking her feet about as she continued to squeeze the diaper. She let her other hand slide inside of the diaper. It was wet–all kinds of wet.

This was the part she wished she had someone else here for. She needed someone to tell her that she was a dirty little girl. When she said aloud that she was a dumb little baby in a dirty diaper…

“I…I’m a dumb little baby in a dirty diaper.”

…she wished someone was there to hear it.

Mommy–no, Neve–never cared much for when Ava called herself ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid.’ She liked to remind Ava that she was “quite intelligent for a baby.” Sure, it was nice to hear, but she was missing the point–it was fun to think that you were just dumb and pathetic. Ms. Heller seemed to get it–she called Clark a dumb baby all the time.

“Just…a dumb baby…in a…”

Her words faded into a series of soft moans and squeaks that only ended when she finished in her diaper.

There are three diapers left.

“I used to think that he wanted to move out, you know? But now he’s being so fucking stubborn about it. It’s like he knows I want him to leave, so he’s just staying to spite me.”

Ava nodded sympathetically. She had opinions on this, of course, but it didn’t seem like her place to state them. It wasn’t her apartment. Not yet, at least. “Jeez, that sucks.”

Lyndie sighed and shrugged. “Look, if I have to roll him up in a rug and throw him off a bridge, I’ll do it. One way or another, he’ll be gone.”

“That might be a little extreme.”

“Well I’d like to get him out,” Lyndie said. “The sooner he’s gone, the sooner you can move in.”

“Have you ever considered just moving out yourself?” Ava asked. “You and I could look for a place together.”

“I’m the one on the lease,” Lyndie said. “Not him. It’s my apartment.”

“Alright, fine,” Ava sighed. “Just text me when you’re ready to do the carpet-bridge thing.”

“See? This is why you’re the best.”

It was unsurprising that the person she had kept in contact with the most since leaving her job was Lyndie. In fact, this was the third time this week the two had met in person–Ava was beginning to think that she was seeing Lyndie just as much now as when the two had worked together. Today, it was lunch–just sandwiches at a little deli Lyndie had been raving about for a while.

“Any word from Clark yet?” Lyndie asked.

“Nothing.”

“You can’t take it personally.”

“Are you sure about that? Because it wasn’t that long ago that we were rubbing our diapers against each other. And now it’s like the guy doesn’t even know me. Have you heard from him?”

“Directly? No,” Lyndie said, shaking her head. “I text with Ms. Heller…er, Gabrielle…once in a while, though.”

“I do the same thing,” Ava chuckled. “Sometimes I feel like I haven’t actually left. I’m just on vacation or something. And on Monday, I’ll go back, get my diaper changed, suck on Neve’s tit, and eat lunch with you and Clark. But, uhm, what does Gabrielle have to say about Clark?”

Lyndie shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds like they’re living in this fantasy bubble right now. She’s a full-time mommy. He’s a full-time baby.”

“Hrm.” Ava kind of understood the appeal. She wasn’t sure that she’d enjoy such a scenario herself–though maybe it was just because she didn’t have anyone in her life looking to make her a 24/7 adult baby. Besides, this was more or less what she had expected. “As long as he’s happy, I guess.”

“What about you and Neve?” Lyndie asked, smartly deciding to change the subject a little. “Are you two keeping in touch much?”

“Sort of. I mean we text and call when we can. But she seems pretty busy.”

“And how are things back at the office? Or…is that something you two don’t really talk about?”

“I try not to ask,” Ava said, squirming a little in her seat. Her diaper was feeling a little wet. When did she pee? She didn’t even remember doing that. Thus the importance of potty training. “From the little bits that she’s mentioned, it doesn’t sound good. She’s been talking about leaving herself soon.”

Lyndie shook her head and sipped from her bottle of water. “We were just there, you know? I was changing your…” She chuckled, thinking better of saying the d-word aloud in the deli.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy.”

Lyndie smirked. “Speaking of. Are you, uh, wearing one now?”

“Well, you know…I’ve been trying to get away from that sort of stuff and…”

“You’re totally wearing one right now.”

Ava felt her cheeks warming a little. “H-how did you know?”

“I knew a while ago,” Lyndie shrugged. “I feel like I have a sixth sense for padded bottoms now. I’ll probably have that skill for the rest of my life.”

“Look, let’s not make a big deal about it or anything. I’m just trying to use up the last of my stash.”

“And then what?”

“I dunno. I guess I…grow up? I’ll probably come back to the, uhm, baby-stuff eventually. Whenever I’m ready.”

“Fair enough,” Lyndie said. “But you haven’t grown up yet, right?”

“Well…”

“You are in a diaper, yes?” She wasn’t so careful about using the word this time. “Did you wet yourself?”

“I think? Just a little.”

Lyndie shook her head, making disapproving little clucking noises with her tongue. “How are you ever going to grow up when you’re still making pee-pees in your pants, hmm?”

Damn. In an instant, it felt like Lyndie had shaved years off of Ava’s life. It sent a pleasurable wave through her body, ending in her diaper where she felt a throbbing between her legs.

“Th-that’s not fair,” Ava said. “You shouldn’t, uhm, make me feel like that while we’re here.”

Lyndie laughed. “I’m just saying words, baby girl. You’re the one getting all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered? No, I’m just…” There seemed little point in arguing–Lyndie wasn’t wrong, and it was probably very obvious.

“How many diapers do you have left?”

“Including this one? Three.”

“Oh my. You’re almost out, then.”

Ava nodded, feeling her cheeks getting even rosier.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if, before you go back to pretending that you’re an adult again, you got one more diaper change?”

That was so very tempting. It almost seemed to betray the entire concept of ‘potty training.’ Though, to be fair, ‘potty training’ wasn’t a literal process–it was a state of mind.

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, Ava. You’ll regret it when you’re out of diapers.”

Jeez. Just the mention of the word ‘diaper’ coming from someone else’s mouth was enough to make her quiver. She wondered if it was always going to be like this. Years from now, she’d see a TV commercial for diapers and suddenly her panties would be damp.

But Lyndie was probably right.

“If I agree to this now, could you at least promise me that you won’t pressure me to put on diapers again while I’ve stepped away from the baby-stuff?”

Lyndie’s face lit up. “Of course. Though, if you’re going to let me change your diaper, you might as well give me something substantial to change.”

Ava laughed and stirred around her drink with her straw. “That seems fair.”

There are two diapers left.

Lyndie might have left, but traces of their time together still lingered in her bedroom. The air, while not as pungent as it had been earlier, still carried notes of the rather filthy diaper Lyndie had ended up changing.

“It’s going to be stinky,” Lyndie had said. “Are you sure it’s going to be okay to do this at your place?” Translation: I know you and your mother are already at odds because of this stuff. Are you sure that’s a good idea?

At the time, Ava didn’t care. Now, with hindsight, she wasn’t sure it had been the best move. She had grown used to the stench in the bedroom during and immediately following her change. But after walking Lyndie out, getting herself a glass of water, and returning to the bedroom, she realized that it was still a lot more obvious than she would’ve liked. Worse, the smell seemed to have seeped beneath her bedroom door and now the hallway was starting to stink of a rotten diaper too.

There was time–just a little bit–before her mother came home from work. Maybe that was enough time to disperse the scent. She lit a candle too, hoping that would help in masking any lingering shameful odors.

She collapsed on her bed, her fingers almost instantly sliding into her pants to feel the clean diaper Lyndie had put her into. Honestly, Ava hadn’t wanted to jump into her second-to-last diaper so quickly, but it had made sense in the moment. As Lyndie had said: “Babies get changed out of a dirty diaper and put into a clean diaper. That’s just how these things work.”

And maybe this was a good thing. She likened it to ripping the band-aid off–you just had to get it all done and over with, grimace, and then move on. There was only one diaper left after this one. And then? She was free.

But…goddamnit. Lyndie had really made a strong case for sticking with diapers a little longer. It felt so good to have someone else in the room with her while she acted like an overgrown toddler. It felt good to squat and fill the back of her diaper while someone put a hand on her bottom. It felt good to have someone pull open the back of her diaper and feign shock and disgust at what they found inside. It felt good to have her legs lifted into the air and to have someone else wipe her bottom.

Now what? She was wearing her second-to-last diaper, and her mother would be home soon. She was either going to have to take it off–almost certainly ruining it–or keep it on while tiptoeing around the house to ensure her mother didn’t catch her crinkling. Neither option seemed all that great.

“Future-me problems,” she muttered to herself, her fingers slipping inside of the diaper to feel her slickened labia. Lyndie had taken care of almost everything earlier, having left Ava to deal with the bottled-up pleasure she was feeling all by herself. That wasn’t a problem, of course.

Not too long after, Ava realized that she had reached the prophesied ‘future-me.’ Her mother was home, and Ava needed to make a decision about what to do. She opted to stay in the diaper.

Ava took slow and careful steps from her bedroom to the kitchen. Most days, she was happier just avoiding her mother altogether. But making occasional contact with her mother, she had decided, was part of ‘potty training.’ She needed to get that relationship back on track again–even if she was wearing one of her last diapers while doing so.

She caught her mother taking little sniffs of the air–seemingly analyzing the strange scents she was picking up.

“Hey,” Ava said, hoping a conversation about smells wasn’t in her future.

“Hey, Ava. Did you have a good day?”

“It was good,” she answered, nodding. “I met up with Lyndie for lunch.” Her mother didn’t know Lyndie, and she probably didn’t know much about her either. That was probably for the best.

“That sounds nice,” her mother said. Her mouth hung open for another moment like she had another question to ask. Probably something like ‘Does it smell strange in here to you?’ But she didn’t say anything else. If Ava was to guess, her mother just didn’t want to rock the boat too much when they were both actually talking to each other.

“How was your day?” Ava asked.

“Oh, you know. Busy as ever.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a start. Both seemed to be making an effort.

“Are you cooking tonight?” Ava asked.

“I was going to,” her mother said. “I took some pork chops out of the freezer this morning. But I was feeling kind of naughty today and…maybe we order some Thai?”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh–her mother’s idea of ‘naughty’ was a lot different than her own.

“What?” her mother asked. “What’s so funny?”

“N-nothing,” Ava said. “Thai actually sounds amazing.”

“Perfect. Just let me know what you want and I’ll call in an order.”

“Will do. Just, uh, give me one minute.”

Her mother raised a curious eyebrow as Ava slowly backed herself out of the kitchen before sprinting down the hallway and back into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She didn’t want to take this unused diaper off, but she also didn’t want to have this crinkling monstrosity interrupt the first evening in a while that she and her mother were getting along. As carefully as she could, she tried to peel the tapes off–but it proved to be pointless. There seemed to be no good way to remove them without damaging the diaper.

Fuck it. She just tore it off, balled it up, and shoved it into her trash can. This was just going to have to be the way it was.

There is only one diaper left.

It would be a few days after discarding her second-to-last diaper before she could even bring herself to look at her last diaper. She was thinking about it, of course. She was thinking about it all the time. Everyday. Multiple times a day.

There had been days when she told herself that she was going to just go and use the diaper at the first chance she had. There’s no point in saving it. Just use it and be done with it. The sooner you’ve completely soaked it–or worse–the sooner you can move on. But then she’d find the alone-time she needed to wear a diaper, only to decide that it wouldn’t be happening on that day.

She wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. A specific day? A specific mood? The right amount of pressure on her bowels? Sometimes she wondered if she was waiting for someone like Lyndie or Mommy–no, Neve–to volunteer to treat her like a baby first. Perhaps, she wondered, she needed the last diaper to be an event. The most epic diaper experience of all time. She’d piss in it a few times. She’d load up the back of it until it was good and heavy. She’d roll around on the ground and make an absolute mess of everything around her. She’d be on her hands and knees, tears in her eyes, begging someone to change her. And before she was changed, she’d be pulled over an adult’s sturdy lap for a long painful spanking.

But she was pretty sure that her fantasies were a bit too big for reality. Any attempt at meeting her expectations would just fall short and end up feeling depressing.

And so the lone diaper remained hidden at the bottom of a drawer in her desk. It was somehow easier to just not wear it than to risk having a disappointing experience with it.

The first two weeks were the hardest. No matter where she was, she could feel the tempting pull of her last diaper. Was this how that hobbit felt? Sometimes she’d go and pull the diaper from its hiding place and just hold it for a while. Sometimes she would even start to unfold it a little before thinking better of it and putting it away again. Once, she even held it up to her face to smell it. It didn’t smell like much–not without the baby powder. But the faint scent of industrially sanitized plastic was familiar enough to provide a small hit of endorphins.

And then there was the accident.

It came while she was running an errand not far from her house. All she had to do was pick up a refill from the pharmacy, and it was such a nice day out that she wanted to get out and stretch her legs a little bit anyway. While at the pharmacy, she took a little stroll around to see if there was anything else she needed–maybe a little snack for later. Instead, she found herself in the ‘adult health’ aisle–though whether this was accidental or not was hard to say. She knew these drug-store brand diapers were no good, but just looking at the organized shelves full of ‘adult incontinence briefs’ filled her with all sorts of strong desires. Once more, she told herself that she’d slip into her last diaper when she got home.

Things got a little foggy for her as she left the pharmacy. That small burst of lust had gotten her all turned around, and she felt like she was a little girl working for her Mommy again. Her step had a little extra bounce to it–she was practically skipping–as she thought about taking Mommy’s nipple into her mouth once more. She was so hungry. And after Mommy was done feeding her, maybe she’d have some time to change her diaper. And that meant that she needed to have something in her diaper worth changing.

Using a diaper was such an easy thing for Ava that she could sometimes do it when she slept. And, a few times, she had. Her body did most of the work for her, automatically turning her impulses into action. And that was what happened as she bounced down the street towards her house–her distracted brain sent the right impulses to her body, which responded in the way it had grown used to.

By the time Ava realized what was happening, it was far too late. A sizable load of soft mush had worked itself into the back of her panties, and her tight pants lacked the vacancy afforded by the thick diapers she was used to–causing the mass to immediately spread in every direction imaginable. Even if she had been wearing a diaper, this would’ve likely been, as Mommy–no, Neve–would say: ‘A catastrophic mess.’

Tears welled in her eyes as she deliberated her options. There really weren’t any. She had to get home, and she had to get home fast.

If there was any silver lining to be found, it was that she had gone with the black pants when she got dressed that morning–not the white pair that she had first pulled from the closet. Aside from the noxious cloud surrounding her–and it was already rather pungent–she figured she could probably get home without drawing too much attention to herself. She didn’t have that far to go, but her swampy pants had reduced her pace to a sluggish waddle.

It would be this tiresome trek home in her muddy pants that depleted the last of her romanticism towards diapers. By the time she got into the house and shed her filthy clothes to start the arduous task of cleaning up, she had already made up her mind about that last diaper: She didn’t need it. She didn’t want it.

She never harbored regrets for the things she had done and the lifestyle she had. Those were still good memories to her. Once in a while she’d even find herself yearning for the taste of Neve’s breastmilk, or she’d have the urge to slide her thumb into her mouth.

Ava considered throwing that last diaper away, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t that she wanted to save it for another day when she might want it–she could just recognize that every diaper was a potential memory. A story. Who was she to deny someone else a chance at having another embarrassing story?

Instead, she sealed it up in a large envelope and mailed it back to Neve Beaufort’s home. Maybe there’d be another assistant in Neve’s future who would need it. Or, maybe Neve just knew of a baby in need of a pink diaper. Either way, it wasn’t Ava’s problem to worry about anymore.

As far as she was concerned, she was sufficiently ‘potty trained.’ Aside from a few little dribbles of pee finding their way into her panties from time to time.

There are no diapers left.

“I don’t want you to think that you can’t live here,” Ava’s mother said one night as they sat on the couch together. “Because you can. And, you know, you’re an adult. I may not understand everything that you like, but it’s also not any of my business.”

As tempting as it was to try and explain that she had moved on from such desires–at least for the time being–it also didn’t seem to matter. Whether it was diapers or anything else under the sun, Ava was thankful that her mother at least respected her personal space.

“Thank you,” Ava said instead. “But I’m not moving out because of anything you did. I think I’m just ready to make that sort of change in my life.”

Her mother sighed, quite likely with relief. “Okay. And I certainly respect that. You know something?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want to imply that I didn’t think you weren’t mature before. But…something changed in the last few weeks. Maybe it was leaving your job? You just seem so…grown up all of a sudden.”

Ava laughed. “Thank you, Mom. I really needed to hear that.”

Not long after, as they stared ahead at the TV together, a diaper commercial came on. Ava was tempted to glance at her mother–just to see if she would be looking back at Ava–but she kept her eyes forward. Instead, she daydreamed about having some diapers of her own again.