Boardroom Baby

Tapping her foot on the sleek, black tile floor, Lizzi’s eyes strained toward the analog clock hanging high above the lone reception desk. It was 8:57 am; three minutes until her designated meeting time. At the desk sat a very buff-looking man dressed in an all-black suit. Never had a receptionist seemed so threatening. And yet, it was the tall double doors that the receptionist was stationed next to that gave off the most intimidating aura, for behind those doors were some of the most powerful executives on the planet. Executives to whom she would soon be pitching her latest invention. If only said invention would show up before the meeting began.

DING!

“Excuse me! Sorry,” shouted Whitney, rudely pushing past the security guard standing beside the only elevator in the building that could reach the top floor. In her hands was a large, unlabeled cardboard box. She quickly hurried over to Lizzi and the executive suite waiting area with her diaper crinkling every step of the way, mouthing an apologetic “hi” as she approached.

Sighing through her nose for a painfully long time, Lizzi wanted to chew out her college rival-turned-business partner for her tardiness. However, knowing Whitney, a verbal confrontation would only cause a public argument, leading her to simply state, “You’re late.” SOMEONE needed to be a professional here.

“Yeah…sorry…” said Whitney, struggling for her breath. Setting down the box on the floor in front of Lizzi, she plopped down into the seat beside her and pulled out her phone, “And hey, I still made it on time.” She flashed her phone in Lizzi’s face, displaying the lone minute she had to spare.

Lizzi instantly swiped Whitney’s hand away, nearly knocking the device from her partner’s hands. “Whatever. You got everything, right?” she said, leaning forward and prying the box open. Inside were the results of two years of hard labor: a bulky wireless control, a handheld projector, and a test tube containing five identical nanobots. Holding up the clear test tube, a hopeful smile formed, “Let’s just hope our meeting with CrissBaby goes better than the ones with Rearz and Dynamo. You used the bathroom beforehand, right?”

Averting her gaze, Whitney could feel a light dusting of blush impact her nose and cheeks. She didn’t need to be reminded of her past mistakes. Ignoring the bathroom question, she took offense to the idea that their past pitching failures were completely her fault. “Okay, we both know Rearz was never gonna invest, and I’m telling you, Dynamo has to be working on similar tech,” she said defensively, providing little evidence for her corporate conspiracy theory, “It’s the only way they’d-”

CLICK!

Suddenly, the doors to the boardroom parted, halting Whitney’s whining in its tracks. Seconds later, a middle-aged, short-statured man exited the room in a huff with a pair of bodyguards trailing behind him. “Fucking Nicky Mouse organization,” said the man as he jabbed the elevator down button harshly. 

“Hey, I think that’s Avon Oder,” whispered Lizzi, her petty anger dissipating the moment she recognized one of the world’s richest men. Both she and Whitney sat starstruck as they stared at the powerful tech executive from across the hall. They truly were in the big leagues now. 

“Miss Lazenby and Miss Wilde?” said the receptionist, referring to Lizzi and Whitney by their last names respectively as their attention was pulled back in his direction, “The board of directors will see you now.”

Gulping in sync, Lizzi and Whitney looked at each other and nodded, their expressions turning serious. “Let’s go kick some ass,” said Whitney, craning her neck to the side and cracking her upper spine. Being as much of a diaper fanatic as she was an inventor, CrissBaby Diaper Co. was her dream employer. She had to get it right this time.

“Agreed,” responded Lizzi, fist-bumping her associate before lifting the box at her feet. Despite the confident face she was masking with, it was her stiff, shaky hands that clutched the edges of the box that gave away her true emotions. With no choice but to bury those emotions, she willed herself into the boardroom with Whitney hot on her heels.

The boardroom itself was precisely what someone would expect an executive suite to look like. A massively long table was positioned in the center of the space, with about two dozen or so men and women dressed in expensive suits seated around it; it was a far cry from the company’s pastel pink and blue image. All eyes were on Lizzi and Whitney as they began setting up for their presentation, with Lizzi prepping the remote and nanobots while Whitney tackled the wireless projector. Once the projector was lined up perfectly with the blank white screen that had been built into the boardroom’s ceiling, Whitney nodded to Lizzi to let her know they were ready to begin their pitch.

“Good morning, CrissBaby Diaper Company board members. My name is Lizzi Lazenby, and this is my business associate, Whitney Wilde,” said Lizzi, her words prompting Whitney to launch the slideshow for their pitch. On-screen, a title card appeared reading, “Micro-Regressors: The Future of Mental Regression Technology,” with Whitney and Lizzi’s names written underneath.

After letting the title card sit with the audience for a few seconds, Whitney tabbed to the next slide, which contained images of some of CrissBaby’s most famous inventions, from the company’s work in the field of hypnosis to the granddaddy of mental regression products, the Regression Serum. 

This allowed Lizzi to continue the presentation, “We are here today to extend the offer of a lifetime. For years, CrissBaby Diaper Co. has been the cornerstone of regression technology. Your dedication to the field has been awe-inspiring. However, the world of technology is an infinitely evolving one, leading to an inevitable rise in competition from other ABDL companies. That’s where we come in.” With the stage set, she exchanged places with Whitney as the presentation continued.

“CrissBaby, allow me to introduce you to the next big thing in mental regression,” said Whitney as the previous slide gave way to a recorded video of her and Lizzi’s microscopic invention. On-screen, five microbots scurried around a small petri dish. Several executive members leaned forward in their seats. They had the CrissBaby board exactly where they wanted them. “Little cuties, right? Well, you’d best be careful around these tiny buggers. Inside each nanobot lies a form of cerebral coding that can communicate directly to the brain.”

Proceeding to the next slide, Lizzi took hold of the test tube containing five of their nanobots and delicately handed it off to the male board member sitting closest to the door. “Handle carefully,” she warned, allowing the members of the board to pass around their radical new tech for an up-close look. 

Meanwhile, a diagram of the human brain replaced the nanobot video on screen. Reaching into her pantsuit pocket, Whitney pulled out a retractable pointer stick. It was time for a crash course on brain functionality. “Utilizing a set of five nanobots, which we call Micro-Regressors, we attack the brain at five key points,” she said, using the pointer stick to gesture to specific points on the brain. “Bot 1 attaches itself to the frontal lobe, weakening the subject's speech patterns and lowering inhibitions. The Wernicke’s area, housed within the parietal lobe, is where Bot 2 comes in, affecting spatial reasoning and impacting the ability to understand language. Memory and cognitive recognition are impacted by Bot 3, targeting the temporal lobe, while Bot 4 positions itself on the occipital lobe to control a subject's focus and sight distance. Lastly, the base of the spinal cord is paired with Bot 5 to affect a subject’s movements and physical capabilities.” Curling her lips inward to keep from celebrating, she felt on top of the world after clearing through the largest section that she had to present without a single mistake. No messy accidents would ruin their presentation this time.

At the conclusion of Whitney’s long-winded explanation, Lizzi retook the reins on their pitch once more. “To put it in layman’s terms, these five bots regress a subject on three fronts: physical, mental, and emotional. This ensures a subject’s complete and permanent mental regression,” she said, feeding off the attentive energy the board was giving her. It was time to drive this pitch home. “No more uneven doses and reinforced regression through the power of the Regression Serum. Once our Micro-Regressors take their positions, a subject has no way of removing them, allowing for ease of regression through the use of a remote control.”

This time, it was Whitney’s turn for show-and-tell as she handed the remote over to the board of directors for them to pass around. She quickly chimed in, “Perhaps the most crucial function of our Micro-Regressors is the ability to rise and lower regression levels at will. Need your baby-brained Little sharp as a whip for a family gathering? Just return all levels to normal, and the subject will behave as if the nanobots had never been inserted.”

Whitney flipped to the last slide of their presentation, which contained only one word: Questions? This was the home stretch. “We will now take questions while my associate passes out our financial packet,” she said, finding it difficult not to happy dance now that the meat of the presentation was finished. With how engrossed the board had been during their pitch, it seemed like all they had to do at this point to sell their idea was answer a few final questions and shake some hands. Good thing, too, since she had definitely fibbed about using the bathroom beforehand. Now that the anticipation was gone, her bladder was wide awake. She pinched her knees inward slightly, trying to avoid soiling herself at the penultimate moment.

“Excuse me, I have a question,” said a thin-framed man seated midway down the boardroom table with his hand raised, “I run research and development here at CrissBaby, and I have a few questions about human trials. Namely, if any have been conducted yet, and if not, how far out in development would you be?”

Parking herself next to Whitney so that they were standing side-by-side, Lizzi had been hoping this question would pop up. “So far, human trials have been a rousing success. Bugs are still being worked out to strengthen the connection of the remote with the nanobots, but we haven’t had any major issues regarding our bots with 19 of our 20 test subjects regaining 100% brain functionality.” She didn’t like to feel overconfident, but if the board was already asking about human trials, this meeting was in the bag. “If you’d like to see, we have videos of all ten test subjects and would be delighted to show you our progress.”

“No need,” said a deep, feminine voice echoing across the room from the head of the boardroom table and sending chills throughout both Lizzi and Whitney’s bodies. The imposing woman, dressed in a hot pink suit with rosy, auburn hair tickling her neckline, leaned forward in her seat, a sadistic smile forming on her face. In a way, this boardroom and every member within it were all a facade. The girls need only convince one person, and that person was none other than Master, known publicly as Miss Caretaker; the eccentric and domineering CEO of CrissBaby Diaper Co., “I must say…what a tantalizing presentation…”

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Everyone wants to rule the world, or at least that’s what the snake-eyed salesman told me the day I decided to purchase a timeline of my very own. To have the power of the cosmos within the palm of my hand was awe-inspiring, a feeling unmatched by other modern proclivities. However, what they don’t tell you when they shake your hand and lead you into a dank back office to sign paperwork is the vast amount of fine print and red tape involved with purchasing timelines. A world can be altered to match your desires, but must adhere to the rules of physics and general relativity. You can live as Queen of the universe, but in a time period far removed from the kind of modern technology that could be used to disrupt the core timeline. If you’ve seen a tech company's Terms of Service agreement, imagine that multiplied by your current distance to the Sun and you’ve got a good starting point for the sheer amount of bullshit that I was legally required to read every page of.

Perhaps the most frustrating rule of all was the assortment of rich and powerful families who paid for their ancestors to be placed on a DO NOT ALTER list to ensure the sanctity of time’s most illustrious figures. Among them were many obvious choices: Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., and Taylor Swift, just to name a few. Why do I bring this up to you, dear reader? Because only moments before the delicious boardroom pitch that you were lucky enough to bear witness to, I was sitting face-to-face with someone from that DO NOT ALTER list, and wishing with every fiber of my being that I could knock their entitled, little ass down a peg. Allow me to back up our story…

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“Mr. Oder, please try to be reasonable,” said Master, leaning forward in her red leather chair and resting her elbows atop the hardwood table that stretched the length of the room. Despite the fact that she was indoors, a pair of pitch-black sunglasses sat on the bridge of her nose. Across from her stood Avon Oder, the CEO and founder of SwanTech. She rhythmically tapped her fingernails, their thunderous clicking echoing throughout the boardroom, “We’re both professionals. I’m sure there’s some kind of agreement we can-”

“Professionals?! Please! Miss Caretaker, there’s not a damn thing about you other than that icy bitch demeanor that’s even remotely professional!” said Avon, his back arched over his end of the table with both palms pressing into it, “Here’s a newsflash for you: you’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m just gonna sit by and diddle myself while you stand to make a killing off MY technology!” Snapping his fingers at one of the bodyguards, he commanded his man to open a briefcase and hand off a stack of papers to the nearest board member.

Those pages slowly made their way across the room, handed off from person to person until they reached Master’s fingertips. “Aha! This is surely a joke,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension over the corporate shakedown that Avon was attempting to orchestrate. To her, it wasn’t the money he wasn’t asking for that made her cross. It was the principle of the matter. Her gaze narrowed, “You must take me for a fool to think I’d agree to this. Let me assure you, Mr. Oder, if your goal today was to play ball with CrissBaby, this is the wrong foot forward.”

“Fuck playing ball! You stole the firmware for Iris and shoved it inside your stupid, fucking teddy bears, and with Goddess as my witness, I’ll have this company shut down before I allow it to sell my designs!” shouted Avon, shaking the whole table as his fist slammed into it.

A heavy silence hung over the boardroom as Master reclined in her seat. Pressing the sunglasses up on her nose, she turned away from Avon and his boorish behavior and stated starkly, “Then I suggest you lawyer up. Good day, Mr. Oder.”

Avon’s lip quivered with rage while his eyes scanned the room, memorizing the face of each and every member of Master’s board. This wouldn’t be the last they heard from him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, snapping his fingers once again and exiting the room with his entourage.

There were a vast number of vicious and humiliating things that Master wished she could do to Avon. Sadly, thanks to the iron-clad DO NOT ALTER list, she was forced to sit on her hands throughout his entire temper tantrum. As her agitation rose over her inability to teach one of the richest men in the world a valuable lesson, so too did the speed of her finger-tapping, only stopping once her pinky nail snapped off at the nub. “Jonas, please tell me that’s the last meeting of the day,” she said, cocking her head to the side and watching as the broken nail grew back to its former size.

“Apologies, Miss Caretaker. We have one final meeting on the docket for today,” said Jonas, Master’s dutiful and seemingly genderless personal assistant. Standing behind Master’s chair, they tapped at the touch-screen tablet in their hands as they reviewed their boss’s impossibly busy schedule, “It’s a product pitch meeting, so we could easily reschedule it for next week, or cancel it altogether if you’d prefer.”

Letting out a painfully long sigh, Master considered Jonas’s proposal. It wasn’t like CrissBaby Diaper Co. was at risk of running out of innovative ideas contrary to what someone like Avon might believe. That being said, innovation was the last thing on Master’s mind at the present. Glancing at the downtrodden, awkward expressions of the board she had assembled, she knew she needed to remind them of the unparalleled authority she could wield. Furthermore, after having her ego severely bruised, she needed to blow off some steam. “That won’t be necessary, Jonas. Show them in.”

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“We will now take questions while my associate passes out our financial packet,” said Whitney, signaling to Master that the primary pitch had drawn to a close. All things considered, it was a surprisingly engrossing innovation that these girls had come up with. In the core timeline, an invention such as this wouldn’t be on the market for another millennium at minimum. Only in her timeline, where the embers of ABDL modernization were constantly flamed, would something like this occur. This idea was definitely worth going all-in on. 

Unfortunately for Lizzi and Whitney, their meeting succeeded in an extortion attempt by Avon Oder. Moreover, these two girls were two of the subbiest-looking diaper lovers she’d seen in a while. This was going to be fun. Waiting for her research and development head, Mark, to finish his question on human trials, she sat back and observed Lizzi and Whitney carefully.

“If you’d like to see, we have videos of all ten test subjects and would be delighted to show you our progress,” said Lizzi in what should’ve been a moment of triumph. Tragically, she and Whitney had no idea that they were being served up like lambs to the slaughter. Did they deserve it? Not even remotely, but to say that mattered little to a perverse sadist like Master would be the understatement of the eon.

“No need,” said Master nonchalantly, returning to the forward-leaning position that Avon had forced her to recede from, “I must say…what a tantalizing presentation. I think an idea such as this would be right at home here at CrissBaby…”

Both Lizzi and Whitney turned to each other briefly, gritting their teeth through larger-than-life smiles and utilizing every ounce of restraint housed inside their bodies to not scream with joy at the top of their lungs. The dreams they had worked all their lives to accomplish were finally within reach.

“...however…” said Master, the gravity of her tone dragging Lizzi and Whitney’s collective enthusiasm back to Earth, “...when considering an invention such as yours, it’s impossible to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that your results haven’t been altered to achieve a desired outcome.” This was almost too easy.

Needless to say, suspicion of data tampering was not a development that Lizzi had considered when cycling through practice questions. “M-Miss Caretaker, I can promise you that my colleague and I would never dream of wasting your time here with a failed product. Our nanobots are the real deal.”

“If you’d like, we could arrange a live demonstration; one where your people can closely observe its progress every step of the way,” chimed in Whitney, hoping to provide further credence to Lizzi’s promise.

Smirking as her eyes drifted back and forth between the panicked inventors, the bottom row of Master’s pearly-white teeth grazed her upper lip seductively. “A live demonstration. Now there’s an idea,” she said, savoring Whitney and Lizzi’s temporary relief, “But why schedule something in the future when everything we need is already here in the present?”

“Wait, you mean right here and now?” asked Lizzi frantically. Sure, they had a successful invention, but this was far from a safe environment to experiment in. “I’m not sure if that is feasible. Without a secure lab space and our monitoring equipment, we won’t be able to–”

“We can make it work!” blurted out Whitney, refusing to let Lizzi’s apprehension spoil their chance to work with the largest diaper company in the world. “We just need to sync them up with the remote, and our bots will be good to go. We will also need a volunteer willing to…demonstrate…” Her words petered off as she suddenly realized every board member was gawking at Lizzi and her, each with varying degrees of amusement. She could feel her tummy twisting itself into knots, threatening to expose her feeble bladder at any second.

Wearing a faux, demure smile, Master exaggerated her movements as she looked down the table at the distinguished board of directors. Not a member among them wasn’t a dominant Big who was capable of disciplining Lizzi and Whitney at the same time if needed. She shrugged her shoulders and cleared her throat, “I’m afraid you’ll find this boardroom lacking in the kind of submissive volunteers you’re looking for. Perhaps, a look inward would behoove the two of you.”

Fear gripped Whitney and Lizzi’s souls. “Inward? Y-you mean…” muttered Lizzi, earning a smug nod from Master in response. There was no mistaking the tyrannical CEO’s cruel intent. She expected one of them to test their own invention.

Attempting to maintain her performative smile, Whitney stared dejectedly at the vial of nanobots before turning to Lizzi, “So…r-rock, paper, scissors?” As childish as the suggestion seemed, neither girl had a better suggestion.

Shaky fists met quivering palms as Lizzi and Whitney recited “rock, paper, scissors” three consecutive times. Tragically, a trio of ties continuously heightened the suspense of who would be sacrificing their dignity for a product deal with the CrissBaby Diaper Company. “Ugh! Do you need to pick rock every time?!” shouted Lizzi, her frustration boiling over. 

“Why are you getting mad at me?! You’re picking rock, too!” responded an equally distressed Whitney. Her eyes darted away from Lizzi as she quickly popped the knuckle of each finger, attempting to ease her nerves, “L-Let’s just go again. One of us has to win eventually, right?”

Meanwhile, observing from across the boardroom with a sinister sneer, Master sat with her thumb and fingers pressed together in the shape of a diamond as she ate up every second of the genius duo’s mortifying misery. Nothing in the entire cosmos was more entertaining than witnessing a pair of subby Littles squabble over who’s on the bottom.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” chanted Whitney and Lizzi with neither girl brave enough to watch as they made their selection. 

When the dust finally settled, it was Lizzi’s rock that prevailed over Whitney’s scissors. She jumped into the air with her fist proudly raised. “Yes! Oh, thank Goddess!” she said, her anxiety washing away with each booming syllable. Her celebration wouldn’t last, though, as she spotted a nervous pout forming on her colleague’s face. She coyly rubbed the back of her neck, playing up her guilt, “Sorry, Whitney. It won’t be too bad. We can always turn the nano-bots off after the demonstr–”

“I can’t do it,” said Whitney, shrinking down and staring at the floor while a barrage of deep crimson forged a campaign across her face.

Scoffing in disbelief, Lizzi replied, “Um…yeah, you can. We just played four rounds of rock, paper, scissors to decide this. A game YOU asked to play, let’s not forget.”

Whitney gritted her teeth as her face twisted into a guilty grimace. She had hoped a win would help her avoid an embarrassing reveal. Sadly, given that she was now on the hot seat, she had no choice but to come clean. “Y-You misunderstand,” she said, tapping her pointer fingers together, “I literally CAN’T…because…uh…I kinda already did.”

Batting her eyes rapidly, Lizzi’s triumphant expression slowly faded. “W-Wait, then…why did we play…” she said, unable to finish her question as the realization of what was about to happen kicked in. As an avid diaper lover herself, she had always wondered what it felt like to be under the influence of her Micro-Regressors. However, she never would’ve dreamed of acting upon that innate curiosity due to an abundance of scientific integrity. Clearly, this was not a sentiment Whitney and her shared, much to her chagrin.

“So, we’ve come to a decision, then,” said Master, her overly casual manner of speaking causing Lizzi to turn pale as a ghost. Eager for this demonstration to kick off, her attention fell on Whitney, “Will you be needing any assistance with your Little, or is the procedure simple enough to do on your own?”

“Her Little?!” yelled Lizzi, flabbergasted at the idea of Whitney, of all people, being acknowledged as her Big. Her dismay only grew as Whitney and Master carried on their conversation without her as if she were no longer big enough to participate.

“I shouldn’t have any trouble, although some changing supplies would be helpful,” said Whitney, her confidence rising now that she was officially off the hook. Retrieving her remote and vial of nanobots that the board members had been passing around, she promptly paired the devices with each other. She suppressed a giddy grin as the digital screen on the remote gave her five individual pings, letting her know all five bots were ready to go.

It was at this point that Lizzi’s fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and she was no fighter. Hoping to avoid the kind of corporate humiliation that nightmares were made of, she bolted for the boardroom doors. Perhaps striking a deal with a lesser ABDL company wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

SNAP!

Unfortunately for Lizzi, she was currently on the top floor of CrissBaby HQ: a domain that Master had complete control over. With an effortless snap of her fingers, she summoned a pair of Miss Snorington security bots, who were more than happy to cut off Lizzi’s escape path as they burst through the set of double doors.

“GAH! Let go of me!” Lizzi screamed, flailing her legs around wildly as she fought against the raw, mechanical strength of a robotic teddy bear that stood at least two feet taller than her. The bear and its twin paid no mind to her caterwauling as they pinned down the poor inventor on the edge of the table, where a cushy changing mat was already waiting for her. Her eyes apprehensively drifted toward the package of CrissBaby Super Absorber XXX’s that had been placed only a mere foot from her head.

RIIIIIIIP!

A sudden gasp fled Lizzi’s mouth as one of the bears rolled up her business skirt and tore the panties off her body in the blink of an eye. She whimpered as she watched her tattered undies drop from the bear’s hand and fall beneath the sightline of the table as if to signify the revocation of her adulthood. 

Stepping up to the boardroom table and tearing into the unopened package of fetish diapers, Whitney’s toes curled as she proceeded to fluff the fresh nappy. Her inability to stave off taking her own invention for a spin may have helped her avoid becoming an impromptu product tester, but that didn’t mean the ache in her bladder had vanished in the slightest. She made a mental note to reduce the effect that the nanobots in her head had on her continence when she got home before recentering her focus on the task at hand. Sliding the diaper under Lizzi’s bottom, she slathered on a generous amount of lotion with the haste and efficiency of a pit crew mechanic before moving in with the bottle of baby powder. The sooner Lizzi was diapered, the sooner she could fade into the background where her diaper-wetting would go unnoticed.

Lizzi could only gawk in utter embarrassment as the outrageously thick diaper was folded over her crotch and taped into place. Arching her head back, her eyes scanned the cruel, upside-down smiles that each board member wore. There was no denying how vehemently they were enjoying the show; a thought that only added to her blushing fury. It was Whitney, however, who received the lion's share of her scorn. Daggers shot forth from her eyes as her associate twisted the cork off the vial and dumped the five nanobots onto the table inches away from her left ear.

“I can assure you, it’s not painful,” remarked Whitney, first to Lizzi before addressing the CrissBaby board, “Though, from personal experience, I have to tell you that it’s going to tickle a lot.”

The sound of the encroaching Micro-Regressors approaching her ear sent Lizzi into a full panic. Her body bucked and her head twitched as the team of miniature robots embarked on a journey through her ear canal. Much like Whitney had said, the process wasn’t agonizing, but it did tickle like hell. She let out several strained, involuntary chuckles as the nanobots disappeared inside her cranium.

“We’ve got our first signal!” said Whitney, earning jubilant, yet tempered applause from the board of directors, and striking terror within Lizzi over just how fast their invention worked. She watched the display with feverish anticipation as, one by one, each of the Micro-Regressors moved into its pre-programmed position. In a matter of minutes, all five bots were in place and online. All they needed to do now was play with the levels for a few minutes to appease Master and the team of top CrissBaby investors, and they would be home-free! 

Looking back at Lizzi, Whitney figured it would be wise to check in to see if her lab partner-turned-guinea pig was adjusting well. “How do you feel, Lizzi?” she said, extending her hand down to help her colleague to her feet. 

Now that the diaper change was over and the Micro-Regressors were operational, Lizzi felt all four teddy bear paws ease off her body, allowing her to sit up with Whitney’s aid. “My ear still kinda itches…but I don’t feel any different,” she reported bashfully. She may not have been the most willing participant, but she’d already come this far. Seeking to regain a smidge of control, she continued, “We should focus our efforts on demonstrating Bots 1 and 5 as those are definitely the two that control the…most ostentatious…forms of regression.”

Whitney knew there was significant reasoning behind what Lizzi was saying. Targeting the bots with influence over movement and speech would be wise since the board didn’t exactly have a way of verifying if Lizzi’s vision blurred or cognition receded. That being said, she wasn’t about to let her newfound power be ripped away from her by her know-it-all collaborator. “Thank you for the suggestion, pumpkin,” she cooed pointedly, patting Lizzi on the head for good measure.

Unsurprisingly, Lizzi didn’t take well to being demeaned, especially by someone she’d seen fill a diaper on numerous occasions. “Don’t call me pumpkin,” she said starkly, smacking Whitney’s hand away, “I may be the one demonstrating, but that doesn’t mean you gets ta tweat me wike a b-bababa…ababa…” Gingerly brushing her fingers against her lips, she could think up every word she wanted to say, but when she went to actually speak, nothing but nonsense came out.

Lifting her thumb off the slider controlling speech patterns, a smug, satisfied smile imprinted itself on Whitney’s face. “I think we’ve heard more than enough out of you. Littles like you shouldn’t talk back to their Big,” she said, feeding off the rowdy energy of the board’s callous chuckling. Yanking her babbling rival to her feet, she kept the remote focused on Lizzi’s frontal lobe, this time taking aim at her pesky inhibitions.

Almost instantly, Lizzi found herself frozen in place as a tantalizing heat overtook her loins. She could feel her kitten moistening from within her plush padding, damping the fluffy interior and causing it to puff up. Far from a novice, she was well aware of what would happen if she let the Super Absorber XXX she was in dampen too much. Fighting against the overwhelming desire to toss her shame to the wayside and masturbate in front of some of the most influential people in ABDL, there was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn’t be able to resist if the moisture-activated vibrator built into her diaper began buzzing. Sadly, the rising rosiness in her cheeks did not go undetected, advertising her arousal to everyone within eyeshot. 

“As you can see, everything from a Little’s speaking ability to how horny they’re allowed to get can now be customized at the touch of a button,” said Whitney, ready to drive the presentation home now that she’d had her fun at Lizzi’s expense, “Are there any further questions before we wrap up today?”

The boardroom sat in silence for a few seconds before a lone hand ascended into the air. “I must say, you two have put on quite a show for us today. I believe your Micro-Regressors would feel right at home under the CrissBaby banner,” said Master, once again reveling in the girls’ momentary reprieve as her villainous smirk widened. She capriciously and expectantly extended her palm forward, “I don’t suppose you’d let me take it for a spin?”

“Oh…um…” stuttered Whitney, melting beneath the pressure of Master’s chillingly seductive stare as the powerful CEO extended her hand expectantly. The subby inventor gulped hard as she looked at her partner with a wide grimace. To her dismay, Lizzi’s frightened gaze said more than words ever could. If she gave up control of the controller to Master, it would spell doom for her ill-fated colleague. At the same time, though, were they really in a position to refuse? “...o-of course. It would be an honor.” Her hand shook with reluctance as she placed the remote on the table, allowing it to be passed down the line of investors once more.

However, the remote would fail to reach its destination as one of the board members seated nearest to Master refused to pass the device along. “Miss Caretaker, please,” said the well-dressed man, his voice unwavering as he boldly defied his boss's wishes, “By using that controller, you are putting both yourself and this company in legal jeopardy, and I will not sit idly by and allow that to happen over something so frivolous.”

A hopeful smile momentarily flashed on Lizzi’s face. The mere idea of someone as menacing as Master having complete authority over the nanobots actively regressing her brain was as terrifying as it was titillating. Her lesbian ass couldn’t deny dreaming about being reduced to nothing more than a horny, babbling baby on numerous occasions, especially at the hands of a hot, domineering bombshell like Master. That said, she wasn’t exactly aiming to live out that fantasy in front of an audience, so the sudden objection came as a welcome surprise. 

Rolling her eyes, Master held her arms wide as she looked toward Whitney and Lizzi with a humorously annoyed expression. “You’ll have to forgive Charles for spoiling our fun. As my lawyer, he’s the only one in the room that gets to say no to me,” she said, her attention shifting toward CrissBaby’s hard-nosed attorney, “Hand over the remote and I’ll approve that vacation time you put in for.”

Without hesitation, Charles set the remote down and pushed it toward Master, sending it sliding across the table. Avoiding the judgmental stares of his peers, he glanced up at the ceiling with a subdued smirk as he invoked his Fifth Amendment privileges. Justice was famously blind, after all.

Lizzi’s lips trembled as Master’s dainty fingers wrapped around the controller. Not only was she at the mercy of someone inexperienced behind the wheel, but that same someone also happened to be perhaps the most powerful femdom on the planet. There was no telling how drastic her regression could get. Worst of all was the fact that she couldn’t even verbalize how vehemently opposed to this latest development she was, at least not without sounding like a newborn baby.

“Hmmm…so many delicious choices,” said Master, brushing her thumb against the smooth, silicon buttons as she surveyed the multitude of options at her disposal. Although, she’d be lying if she said that locating the potty training controls wasn’t her top priority, “While I do agree with you about CrissBaby being the ‘cornerstone of regression technology,’ I feel the need to remind you that, in this company, our bread and butter will always be filling diapers.” Her mouth curled into a devilish grin as she pressed her thumb down on the down-arrow button labeled “Bowel Control.”

GUUUUUUUUURGLE!

Beads of sweat formed along Lizzi’s forehead as the weight of her bowels doubled with each button tap. Staving off the inevitable, she clenched her receding colon muscles with every ounce of strength that she still possessed. “Inuhwana!” she muttered incoherently as she balled her hands into a pair of tight fists whilst fighting off her rapidly rising arousal thanks to the nanobots messing with her libido.

“C’mon, little one. Make a big stinky for Miss Caretaker,” cooed Master, alternating between demolishing Lizzi’s guts and intensifying her sensitivity. Meanwhile, her eyes darted between Lizzi and the digital screen on the remote that metered out the ongoing regression. She didn’t dare blink for fear of missing the volcanic eruption about to take place in Lizzi’s diaper.

Covering her mouth to prevent herself from cackling, Whitney couldn’t help but savor watching someone as uptight and busy-bodied as Lizzi turning into a diaper-brained idiot. Throughout college, she’d always lived in Lizzi’s shadow while being viewed as a slacker for her carefree attitude. It was cathartic, to say the least.

Sadly, Whitney’s enjoyment was marred by her ever-growing need to piddle. Given the show that Lizzi was putting on, she realized what a golden opportunity this was to use her diaper without detection. Her heart raced as a faint hissing reverberated in her ears, even though she was well aware that said noise was likely being psychosomatically amplified by the fear receptors in her brain. Mercifully, her pulse subsided as her lengthy wetting carried on.

The same could not be said for Lizzi, whose resistance persisted despite knowing she was stuck in the middle of a losing battle. The stress on her midsection felt like a dagger jabbing her and twisting repeatedly from both sides. Her hands planted themselves firmly on the hardwood table as she let out an agonizingly erotic moan.

“Not giving up yet, huh?” remarked Master, admittedly impressed by how long Lizzi was lasting. It almost made her want to let her off easy…almost. Stretching her arm out fully, she cheekily mashed down the button linked to Lizzi’s inhibitions. If she wasn’t going to stuff her pampers willingly before, she definitely would be soon enough. “Let’s go ahead and end this, shall we?”

PING!

The tiny voice in Lizzi’s head telling her that she was a big girl who needed to hold her messies vanished without a trace with Master’s final command. Gone was the shame she felt over being made into a public display of humiliation, replaced by fuzzy thoughts of squelchy diapers and never-ending pleasure. With her sensitivity maxed out and her potty training nearly having dropped to zero, there was little question of what was about to happen.

SPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRT!!!

Crouching down with her palms still flat on the table, Lizzi’s bladder and sphincter gave out simultaneously in spectacular fashion. This was far from her first diaper-messing, but with her eroticism cranked up to eleven, it was by far the most euphoric. Her Super Absorber was ramped up to full speed in no time, purring vigorously while the vibrating nappy expanded at a seemingly impossible rate, showing no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

“Oh, I like this thing,” said Master, her words coated with delight and intrigue as she stood from her leather chair and slowly rotated around the boardroom table to meet Lizzi and Whitney at the opposite end. Her hungry eyes devoured every bulbous inch of Lizzi’s inflating mush balloon. “Mhmm, that feels much better, doesn’t it? So squishy and wobbly, like warm, chocolate pudding,” she said as she sank a finger into the distended diaper.

Little remained of the brilliant mind who had co-invented the most advanced regression tech ever created as Lizzi nodded with the enthusiasm of a spoiled toddler. She no longer cared if she and Whitney struck a deal with CrissBaby. All that mattered now was how electric her loaded nappy felt against her unsatiated sex.

“Goodness, this thing turned her into such a good girl so quickly. I can only imagine the wonderfully horny things we’re going to make together,” said Master, concluding her private time with Lizzi as she reached around the front side of her new business partner’s diaper and squeezed forcefully. An obnoxious SPLAT immediately followed as a bit of groping was all it took to send the brainless bab falling to the floor.

Having finished Lizzi off definitively, Master’s focus transferred to Whitney as she moved to return the remote to one of its rightful owners. “My gratitude for the marvelous presentation. I look forward to seeing your product on CrissBaby shelves,” she said, leaving no room for doubt about the future of their partnership.

Whitney could barely keep a lid on her excitement as she graciously reclaimed the controller from Master’s icy, cold hands. “Oh my gosh! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I promise you won’t regret this,” she shouted joyfully, hugging the remote to her chest as a way of keeping herself from throwing her arms around Master. Her giddy energy increased as Master placed an arm around her shoulder and ushered her toward where Lizzi was bouncing atop her bloated padding.

“Oh, I know I won’t. However, before the ink dries on this little deal, there’s one subject that we have yet to address,” said Master, her tone transitioning from lighthearted to stern in a matter of seconds, “Your temperament, or lack thereof, is an issue that must be taken into consideration.”

Anxiety clutched Whitney’s diaper-loving soul as Master’s grip on her shoulder tightened ever so slightly, reminding her that neither she nor Lizzi were going anywhere until Master decided they were. “M-My temperament?” she asked solemnly, choked up by a lump in her throat the size of a golf ball.

“That’s right. Not only did you break protocol and test your invention without reporting to your partner, but you also thought you could get away with soaking your diaper while your poor colleague was putting on the performance of a lifetime,” stated Master, providing more than enough evidence to paint Whitney as a naughty brat in desperate need of discipline. Standing mere inches from the boardroom table, she promptly shoved Whitney forward, placing her in the same hunched-over position that Lizzi had been in only minutes prior. “Lucky for you, we here at CrissBaby know exactly how to deal with misbehaving Littles who need to learn some manners.” As she spoke, her arm wound backward, gearing up to teach Whitney the CrissBaby method of dealing with problematic employees.

Squirming beneath Master’s forearm with her chest compressed against the table, Whitney had no idea how Master knew about her accident. Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to object, she’d been in this exact position far too many times to know how futile such an effort would be. Squinting her eyes shut, she braced for impact.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Master didn’t require the use of a paddle or any fancy gizmos. The flat of her hand was all she needed to get her point across. Blow after blow was planted against Whitney’s buckling rear, leaving her butt sizzling like bacon on a frying pan with each hit. “Welcome to the CrissBaby Diaper Company. We’re going to have a lot of fun together,” she said, capping off Whitney’s thrashing with one final, big SMAAAAAACK! Releasing her grip on Whitney’s upper body, she allowed the jello-legged girl to collapse next to her hypermessy associate, “Ladies and gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.”

All at once, the members of the CrissBaby board stood in unison before making their exit at Master’s behest. Not a single word of mockery or scorn was spoken as the line of investors filed out of the boardroom, leaving Master alone with Lizzi and Whitney. “We’ll have a lab space ready for you both starting bright and early Monday morning. See you both then,” she said, lightly patting the head of both women as she too made her grand exit.

“W-We did it,” groaned Whitney, her quaking body having yet to recover from Master’s vicious spanking. She raised her hand toward Lizzi for a high five, briefly forgetting about her partner’s regressive state of mind; something she’d need to remedy sooner rather than later. Refusing to let her high five go to waste, she flopped her hand on top of Lizzi’s open-faced palm, celebrating their decisive victory for both of them.

THE END.