An Assassination Of Character (Black Lagoon) (Patreon)

The restaurant was quite busy, as the client said it would be since it was a five star establishment and only offered the finest cuisine money could buy. The food was the last thing on the mercenary's mind. The deal was all that mattered at this point in time. Her target sat at a table, surrounded by her goons. Blond hair, scars of battle accross her face and a fine, red pant suit told the story of the most feared Mob Boss in Russia. Unbeknownst to the patrons of the restaurant, there was going to be a show, which would pair nicely with their meals, and the head of the syndicate, Belalaika, was going to be the star. Hence why the operative nicknamed the mission "Dinner and a Show." Still, she had to play it cool. Everything was going smoothly except for the head of the Hotel Moscow crime organization riding her like an animal all night so far. Constantly berating her over the time it took for drink orders to be fulfilled or food to be delivered. The mercenary wasn't a fucking waitress by trade after all. Still, she had to maintain her cover by working the other tables too. The black haired operative had been deep undercover, working this spot for roughly two weeks and doing reconnaissance when off of "work". Doing this religiously, she was able to pick up a routine which Belalaika adhered to. Now, after all the time and effort the young woman put into her plan, things would finally pay off. Unlike other mercenaries, our protagonist, or antagonist depending on your outlook, was an expert illusionist and trained killer. The illusions she employed helped distract body guards, or the very target themselves, and made getting the kill so much easier. However, this assignment was a rather unorthodox one. Her mission details, while not entirely traditional, were simple. The target was not to be killed, but humiliated and made an example of. At first, the mercenary magician was confused by the parameters of the mission, but after all the shit Belalaika had put the teenaged operative through, she could see why someone would pay a quarter of a million dollars to embarress this bitch. "Waitress!" Belalaika called out across the dining hall, sending the mercenary briskly walking over to the mob boss. "Yes, ma'am. What's the matter now?" The operative tried to be polite, to maintain a civil discourse with the grumpy Russian. "This soup has a hair in it!" The blond fished out the offending follicle from the dish. "And it looks like yours!" The mercenary sighed and looked at Belalaika before thinking over her options, it seemed like now was as good a time as ever to administer the serum she was told to inject into the blond. A quick, almost invisible to the naked eye, jab into Belalaika's arm was all that was needed to alert the body guards perched round the table. Our operative had planned on this and started to literally work her magic. With a flourish of her hand, all of the body guards at the table now saw their boss as nothing more than a mere infant. However, she was still a full grown, adult woman and the rest of the patrons saw her as such. Belalaika grabbed her forearm, right were the operative had injected the strange solution into her, and stared at the teen with an icy stare. If looks could kill, the deep cover waitress would've dropped dead right then and there. Suddenly, the blond Mob Boss felt a more urgent matter rear it's ugly head. Her bladder felt like it was about to burst! It literally felt fine seconds ago and now, she could barely hold it. "What the fuck did you inject me with?!" The head of Hotel Moscow hissed. As if answering her own question, her thighs were wet, urine trickling down her stockings and crotch engulfed in a slight puddle. "Let me help you with that." The waitress smirked. Another flick of the wrist and Belalaika was as naked as the day she was born, save for a nice, thick disposable diaper wrapped around her crotch and stopping under her midsection. The operative didn't stop there. With the snap of the her fingers, the once formal dining chair started to enlarge into a big, wooden high chair. In almost an instant, Belalaika was stripped, diapered and placed in a high chair. The blond was utterly shocked and started to dish out commands to her grunts scattered around the table. Of course, the men present only heard her bratty baby babble. They merely brushed it off as the baby being hungry. "This is the last time we play babysitter for Belalaika's brat. She should really hire a nanny or someone else to put up with this shit." One of the bodyguards said to his comrades. "Eh, she's busy and the brat is only fussy." The slightly more sympathetic grunt turned towards the operative who had just turned their boss into an overgrown adult baby. "Miss? Would you mind feeding the baby? We're hired guns, not babysitters. We'll pay you extra." "Vlad, you can't authorize that!" Another surly goon stated firmly. "Relax, Belalaika's footing the bill, remember? She said to do whatever it took to make sure the baby was happy." Vlad explained, holding up the mob boss' credit card. "Sure, I'll feed the little rugrat. I expect a big tip though and I don't change diapers." The teenaged operative replied, grinning. Belalaika fumed angrily and started demanding that her men do something. When they continued to ignore her, she pounded her fists down onto the tray of the high chair, causing her boobs to giggle. "Poor baby, so hungry, aren't you?" The deep cover waitress cooed while almost every eye, except for the bodyguards, watched the exchange between the diapered mob boss, trapped in a high chair, and the waitress. "Wah dija doo to meh?!" Belalaika felt her tongue struggle to make the proper sounds. She was a woman who had mastered multiple languages, but due to the serum, she was butchering her English. "Shhh, don't fight it." The operative put a big, plastic bib on the busty Russian and giggled. "Boss Baby. How appropriate." Belalaika couldn't read what the bib said, much less process what the strange teen, who had stuck her with a needle, was saying. She felt her legs pushed wide by sonething bulky, and thick. The mob boss looked past the bib, down to her waist and noticed the shimmering white plastic greeting her glossy eyes. "Noooo! Nod hew!" She cried, looking at the other patrons of the establishment. "God noooo! I don wanna beh in diapees in pubwic!" "Shh, it's okay. Poor baby. You just got to go poopy." Belalaika could only scream, as she felt her mind grow more disoriented, the serum chemically reducing her brain to mush and enveloping her motor skills in a thick fog, slowing her thoughts down to a snails pace. Her screams died in her throat, but still everyone in the room watched her closely as she raised her thickly diapered bottom off of the wooden seat. Her body betrayed her as her stomach rumbled and her bowels began to empty of there own accord. Belalaika was pushing something huge out into the awaiting, gigantic disposable. Her thoughts were practically gone, leaving her mind just like the crap leaving her bottom, lining the entirety of her diaper. She stood in place, frozen, head stretched out from her shoulders as far as her neck would allow, eyes bulging out just like the seat of her diaper. The waitress laughed softly, trying her best not to lose it. The other guests merely stared in rapt amazement at the sight of an adult, sitting in a giant high chair, filling her adult sized pampers. None uttered a word, as the waitress chuckled softly while random , muffled farts countined to come from Belalaika's diaper. These noises diminished the otherwise bizarre tranquility of the room. Once finished messing her diaper, the former mob boss had a line of drool running from her mouth, spilling onto her bib. What little remained of her brain could process the sensations coming from her infantile undewear. The blond adult baby, head of the Hotel Moscow syndicate, could feel the large mess shifting and moving against her skin as she sat back down into the high chair. The bulk in her diaper produced a foul, rancid smell that rose up all around her, telling the whole restaurant what she had just done. That very odor, coming from her diaper, caused the giant infant to start bawling. Tears streamed down the once powerful woman's face. "Aww, that lady just pooped her pampers, mommy!" A little girl at a nearby table, broke the otherwise obvious news to everyone who watched the Mob Boss, strapped into a high chair, shit her huggies in public. The body guards didn't really know what everyone was starting at, but they could smell the mess and assumed that was what all the fuss was about. That, and the baby crying her head off. Vlad, the kind goon who had asked for the operative's assistance, stood up, lifted his diapered boss out of the high chair, sushing her, and positioned her onto his hip. "Check please."