A Job Interview
This is a sequel to my story "A Little Problem" in which a small mouse named Jeremy has some regressive issues when he finds himself around larger furs. Here, he's trying to cope with those tendencies while interviewing for a new job. Enjoy!
* * * * *
Jeremy had been out of work for quite a while. He wasn't sure exactly how long it had been, but he had definitely gotten tired of it. There weren't many jobs around for anyone, and particularly not for a small and not-especially experienced mouse such as himself. He'd been trying everywhere, but so far, he just hadn't been able to find anywhere that wanted to hire somebody like him!
So he was understandably very excited when late one afternoon he got an e-mail from his friend Ryan (the rather large malamute that he had unexpectedly run into one day and had since grown to be very good friends with) that went like this:
"Hey there little squeaker!
I know you've been worried about finding a job lately, so I've got some great news for you! I found the perfect job for you, and I even set up an interview already! The address and the phone number are down below. Just give them a call to confirm the date (sooner is better - how about tomorrow?) and then you're all set! Don't worry about anything else, they'll tell you everything you need to know once you get there. I know you can sometimes get nervous, but you'll do great, I'm sure!
Try not have any accidents, though! ;)
-Ryan (*wag*)"
That was really good news, but Jeremy did wish that Ryan had given him a little bit more information, or at least more notice. He didn't even know what job he was applying for, and when he had called the office to confirm the time of his interview (it turned out the next day really was best, in the late morning) he had been too nervous to figure out a way to find out more about the actual position. And then he was so busy getting ready for the rest of the day that he only had a couple chances to try to call Ryan to ask for more information, and whenever he did, the doofy canine didn't answer his phone!
So that was how Jeremy found himself sitting in the lobby of a strange company with a very complicated and technical-sounding name on the twenty-fourth floor of a very big and very intimidating office building, getting more and more nervous the longer he waited. He knew he was going to be in for a stressful day when he checked out the location of this company online, to figure out which bus he should take to get there, and first of all couldn't even figure out exactly what the company did from its web page, just that it sounded difficult and not at like something he could probably do, and also that he found out that it was located smack dab in the middle of the part of town where the biggest sorts of furs spent their time, an area that he tended to avoid, because of the effect that hanging around them usually had on him.
As you may remember, Jeremy had a little problem. He was a small mouse, and whenever he found himself around other furs who were bigger than him (which was most of them, really), or when others acted in a way that highlighted his diminutive stature, it would start to make him feel and eventually behave like he was a much younger cub, or even - in extreme cases - like a baby. That was how he met Ryan in the first place, so the malamute knew about what could happen to him in those kinds of situations. So why would the dog have sent him to an interview in this part of town?
At least Jeremy had come prepared. He knew that even if he was on his toes all day long, being around so many big furs, it would be almost impossible not to have any cubby episodes at all, even just one or two brief ones. He thought about how terribly embarrassing it would be to get stuck in an elevator, surrounded by a crowd of furs around twice his height, feeling so small, and then wetting his pants! It could easily happen, if he wasn't careful. That would be a disaster before his interview, and would surely ruin his chances at getting the job, whatever it was.
When he was getting ready, he considered wearing a diaper, but then he remember how his best pair of dress slacks were not especially baggy, and he quickly realized that wouldn't work. Showing up to a job interview with an obviously bulgy and crinkly backside and a not-so-subtle waddle would be just as bad showing up with wet pants, he figured. So he settled on a middle ground, and he slipped on a pair of pull-up training pants before he got himself all dressed up as nicely as he could manage. He carefully inspected his seat in the mirror, and even walked around a bit, listening carefully, and felt confident that no one could tell he was wearing anything except for normal, everyday, big-boy underwear. And he would be protected from any little lapses in concentration that might occur and cause him to leak a little bit. He was feeling good!
It was hard to maintain that confidence as he sat in a chair that was designed for somebody much larger than him, though. He couldn't sit all the way back because then his knees wouldn't even reach over the edge of the seat, and even when he did sit far enough forward that his knees could bend, his feet swung quite a few inches off the ground. He almost had to reach to the sides for his paws to touch the armrests on either side of him, which felt weird and looked funny, so he mostly just sat there with his paws folded in his lap, with nothing to do but watch very tall, very busy-looking people carrying briefcases and file folders walking deliberately in and out of the office, always seeming like they had somewhere very important to be, right at the moment. They all looked very professional and were all wearing suits, and they made Jeremy wish he had one that he could have worn for the interview, but he was just wearing a dress shirt and tie with his nice slacks.
While he was waiting, he leaned way over to take a look at the stack of what looked like magazines, sitting on an table in between the chairs, to try his mind off his worrying. As soon as he picked one up, though, the mouse was surprised; he definitely wasn't holding a weekly, general interest periodical like you'll find at the doctor's office, or - even better - an issue of Highlights, or maybe Ranger Rick. But what he had in his hand was some kind of scholarly or technical journal, stuffed with complicated graphs, diagrams, footnotes, and not a single 'spot-the-differences' puzzle in sight. Jeremy couldn't even tell if the subject of the journal was some kind of electrical engineering or maybe complex economic models, or it possibly could have been both?
Jeremy's head was spinning. He couldn't imagine a single job in this office that he could possibly do. Ryan must have been playing a joke on him, or he just made a big mistake, something like that. He felt so out of place, so silly and small and insignificant, surrounded by big, serious, important furs who knew what exactly what they were doing, and he didn't even know what job he was about to be interviewing for. He chewed nervously on his thumbnail, barely resisting the urge to just start sucking on his thumb to try to ease some of his anxiety. He felt a growing pressure in his bladder, as he began to fidget and squirm in the chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs, starting to really worry about his ability to hold it in for much longer.
Finally, he just gave up. He convinced himself that there was no way he was going to get a job here, anyway, so why go through with the humiliation of an interview, anyway? He would just tell Ryan that he didn't get it (which he almost definitely wouldn't have, anyway), and everything would be fine. He pushed himself out of his chair and started walking towards the elevator so he could get out of there. Just then, he heard the receptionist calling his name. He stopped and turned around to see the pretty bunnygirl smiling at him from behind her desk.
"Ms. Mahler is ready to see you, now. You can go right in." She pointed to the door that divided the lobby and waiting area (along with the elevators, Jeremy's only means of escape) from the rest of the offices. "Her office is right through there. Just go straight down the hall, past the conference rooms, take a left, and then her office is on the right, in the corner. You can't miss it!" Jeremy was about to open his mouth to ask her to repeat those directions, when she said, "You should hurry back there, though. She's very busy, so she doesn't like to be kept waiting!" And before he could say anything else, she had to answer the phone and didn't pay the small mouse any more attention. She smiled and made a shooing motion with her paw while she greeted the caller on the phone, though.
He gave one last fleeting glance back towards the elevators, and then took a deep breath and headed through the door, into the office proper. As soon as he was there, the anxious mouse was distracted by all the activity and noise around him and promptly forgot the directions that the bunny had given him to find Ms. Mahler's office. Was it left, straight, and then right at the conference room? Which conference room did she mean? There seemed to be conference rooms in every direction, and they were all filled with people sitting around big tables having very intense, serious discussions about something that he probably wouldn't be able to get a word of.
The office was bustling all around him. There were furs talking animatedly into their phones, others standing at drafting tables, and a lot working on computers. There were still plenty of people walking (nearly running, sometimes) through the hallways, carrying printout or folders or talking on cell phones. And of course, the tips of his ears were barely at chest-level for even the smallest fur in this office. He didn't see anybody even close to his size, and the combination of looking up at all these busy, official-looking people with not really knowing where he was supposed to be going exactly was extremely disorienting and anxiety-inducing.
And of course, he still felt like he had to pee. He wandered around timidly for a few minutes, even though it felt like it was much longer, trying to find the office of the lady he was supposed to be meeting with. For a minute, he thought about just cutting his losses and leaving again, but by then he couldn't even remember how to get back to the lobby and the elevators. He finally decided that if he could just stop and find a restroom to hide in for a moment, then he could stop and gather himself, relieve his bladder, and work up the courage to ask somebody where Ms. Mauler's - or was it Mahler? - office was. Of course, how was he going to find a bathroom without asking somebody first?
He was standing there in a relatively un-busy corner of the office, leaning back against a row of filing cabinets with one ankle crossed over the other, chewing on his thumbnail and considering this problem when a vixen who looked a little bit younger than most of the other people on the floor and who had her hair tied back in a ponytail walked up to him, a mixture of concern and irritation on her face. "Are you Jeremy? I told Stephanie to send you in five minutes ago! Didn't she give you directions? Well, never mind, just come on. She may already be on the phone again, but she'll have a couple minutes when she's done."
With that, the vixen, who turned out to be Ms. Mahler's secretary, took Jeremy by the paw and began to lead him down the hallway like an errant child. He should have taken the chance to ask her some questions or to apologize at least, but he was too shy to get a word in before he was ushered into Ms. Mahler's large, well-appointed, earth-toned, corner office, the heavy mahogany door sliding shut behind him with an echoing thud. He found himself staring across a massive desk, where a particularly large and severe-looking black panther lady was leaning forward, holding her telephone to her ear and having a very animated conversation with someone on the other end of the line. Jeremy couldn't help but feel like he had walked in on something that he probably wasn't supposed to hear, so he hung back, awkwardly, near the door. He wanted to make a good impression, but he was so nervous that he could think about was how hard his heart was pounding in his chest, and how much he hoped he wouldn't wet his pants.
After a moment, the panther lady raised her head and spotted the mouse fidgeting by her door. Without stopping her conversation, she narrowed her eyes and straightened up somewhat in her high-backed chair, raising a paw and pointing towards another chair, a bit smaller than her own but still oversized for a mouse of his stature, that was sitting opposite her desk. When Jeremy didn't move immediately, she frowned slightly and pointed again, more emphatically. Even though her tone of her voice didn't change at all, since she was still engaged in conversation with someone on the phone, the mouse could easily detect the impatience in her body language. He scampered up to the chair and climbed up onto the seat, starting to apologize but then remembering that the panther lady was on the phone, so he trailed off and bit on his lower lip, waiting for Ms. Mahler to finish with her phone call.
Something did seem a bit odd, though, because once he settled into the chair, which had possibly been lowered unusually close to the ground, or the problem could have simply come from the large size of the panther's desk, he found that he was small enough that he could no longer see Ms. Mahler at all, he just found himself staring up at the front of the wooden desk, and maybe the top of her high-backed chair, but he couldn't see her at all, from his position. The panther lady noticed this too. She leaned far enough forward that she could actually see the mouse again, and he certainly looked very small, almost engulfed by that big office chair. He smiled bashfully up at her, trying to look apologetic that he wasn't taller.
She was clearly annoyed that the seating arrangement which her secretary had put in place was not going to work for the interview that she was going to need to conduct shortly. Unfortunately, she didn't have any method of setting up a new one that would be more conducive towards allowing her to actually see Jeremy while she was talking to him, at least not in a timely fashion, and her time was very important to her, as the mouse could plainly see. She wanted to keep the desk between them, because otherwise she felt that the power dynamic would be inappropriate, but she didn't want to have to scramble to find another chair so quickly, if there was even one in the office that would be sized correctly for a mouse like that. While still maintaining her conversation, she leaned down on her side of the desk and dug into a drawer, pulling out a thick phone book and shoving it across the desktop towards Jeremy, then making an unclear kind of gesture at him, which involved her waving her fingers over the book.
He wasn't exactly sure what she meant by this, but he knew he was supposed to do something with the big, bulky phone book, so he pulled the heavy thing off the desk with a grunt and held it in his lap. He could see that Ms. Mahler was still motioning for him to do something, but he just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, trying to tell her that he didn't understand what she was trying to get him to do. She was getting more frustrated the longer she waited, which only made Jeremy more and more anxious and confused, staring down at the phone book and trying to figure out what she was trying to say to him. Did she want him to look up something? He opened the book and started flipping pages, almost frantically.
Finally, the pantheress seemed unable to endure it any longer. She stood up from her chair and stalked around to the other side of the desk, pressing the phone between her cheek and her shoulder (it turned out to be a cordless phone) and still carrying on her conversation, which must have been very important, even though Jeremy was too nervous to have caught anything that she was talking about. Then she nudged the mouse off his chair, yanked the phone book from his grip and slammed it down none-too-gently where he had just been sitting. Then she placed her paws under his arms and hefted him right back into the chair herself, this time seating him on top of the phone book, which would give him just enough of a boost to see over the desk.
Jeremy was absolutely humiliated, of course. He should have figured out that was what the pantheress wanted him to do with the book, since he had needed booster seats before. It's not like the idea was totally new to him, or anything. Not thinking that through was bad enough, but then for her to lift him up like a cub and place him in the chair was just too much. He squirmed on top of the phone book and realized for just a moment that he felt a little patch of wetness spreading through the front of his pull-ups. He did his best to ignore it, thogh, and definitely not to react to it. He pushed his legs together as tightly as he could and folded his paws over his lap, as if he was trying to hide the fact that he might have just piddled himself a little.
Meanwhile, Ms. Mahler was walking back around to the other side of the desk, and she appeared to be - finally - wrapping up her conversation. "Yes ... yes. That sounds fine. ... Of course, we'll do that. ... Look, I'm going to have to talk to you about that later. I have somebody here that I need to interview." She sank back into her chair and glanced across the table, meeting Jeremy's eyes. "Not long, I don't think. ... Okay, sounds fine. Talk to you soon."
She hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh. Then leaned back in her chair and looked across the desk at the mouse, who was now at least visible since he was sitting on the phone book-booster seat. She tented her fingers and regarded him for a moment. Jeremy tried to sit up straight, to look professional and adult and all that stuff, but it was hard when he was worrying about the condition of his pull-up and feeling his feet dangling off the floor.
"I am sorry about that, Jeremy... it is Jeremy, isn't it? Right," Ms. Mahler began, her voice slightly more friendly than it had been with the person she had been talking to on the phone. Or at least moving in that direction, anyway, since it would be tough to call her tone of voice with Jeremy 'friendly' either. "But I am very busy, and when I ask to see somebody, I prefer it when they don't keep me waiting. My time is very valuable, so I make a point of never waiting for long before I move on to my next task." She paused, expectantly, and looked across the table at the mouse. After a moment, she raised her eyebrows slightly, and Jeremy realized that she was waiting for him to say something.
He hadn't said anything since he had arrived. In fact, he wasn't sure he had spoken since he had introduced himself to the bunny receptionist and told her what he was there for. As he started to try to explain why he had been late, his voice squeaked and cracked. It made him blush, and he was so nervous he couldn't stop himself from stammering. "Oh, umm ... I - I - I'm s-sorry about that, Muh-Ms. Mahler... I sort of - uhh - well, I guess I kind of got lost, trying to get back here to your office. I'm - umm - very s-sorry about that..." he raised a paw to rub the back of his head, looking extremely embarrassed and wondering why he didn't just leave when he had the chance. He was never great with strangers, and furs that were so much bigger than him were especially difficult to talk to, but even he realized how dopey he had just sounded.
His apology was met with a cold smile from the pantheress. It was almost as if she was just showing her teeth. "Yes," she said, slowly, "I suppose that can happen." She glanced slightly to her left, towards one of the stacks of paper that populated the surface of her desk. She plucked a single page from the top of the pile and held it in front of her, perking her eyebrows again as she looked it over. "Hmm. Well then, as I mentioned, I'm not one to waste any time, so what do you say we just ... get this over with? Sound good? Good."
"So I was looking over your resume here, and I have to admit that I have a couple of ... questions for you. Is that alright with you Jeremy, if I just start by asking you a couple of questions? Does that sound okay?" Jeremy nodded his head, wringing his paws in his lap and chewing on his lower lip, which certainly did not make him look like the picture of confidence and self-assurance. "Okay. Well, first things first, I just wanted to know if you had any familiarity with Vanderburg-Hartman methodology? Any at all?"
Jeremy blinked for a second, as if he hadn't heard what the panther lady had said to him. When in actuality, he had heard perfectly, he just had no idea what she was talking about. "V-van ... uhhhhh, well..." He swallowed audibly and began to tug on his tie, sitting there silent for a moment with his mouth open while he struggled to think of what he should say, but his mind was blank. "Umm, no, I guess - I guess I don't, really."
Ms. Mahler nodded her head, "I see. Well, how about any complementary frameworks? Or anything in a similar sort of vein? Do you have any experience with alternative theories of workplace stress amelioration and maximizing positive employee actualization?"
The reaction she got from the small mouse was about the same as it had been with the previous question, as he tugged on the end of his tie with one paw while the other rubbed at his forehead. He shook his head and squeaked, "I don't really... I mean, that's not really something I ... I mean I don't - I don't know muh-much about that, I g-guess..." He crossed his ankles and looked down at the floor, sure that he had wet himself, now. His pull-ups felt hot. But then, he seemed to be experiencing a full-body blush, which might have had something to do with it.
The pantheress responded with a clipped, "Uh-huh." She glanced at the piece of paper in her paws one more time, flipping it over briefly to glance at the blank side before she dropped it onto the desk in front of her. "Have you done ... any work at all with at that was even remotely related to the field of human resource management whatsoever?"
Jeremy started to answer, but after he got stuck on, "Nuh... nuh..." he just stopped trying and shook his head back and forth a few times.
Ms. Mahler furrowed her brow as she looked at him across her big, heavy desk, where he was fidgeting on top of a phone book in an overlarge office chair. At this point, Jeremy would have probably preferred it if she couldn't see him. "Really? You do know that's the field of the position you're being considered for, don't you?" It was clear from the tone in her voice that the possibility that he actually might not was just baffling to her.
This was an opportunity to explain his situation, a little bit, and despite how embarrassed and anxious he was, Jeremy did try to take it. He sat up straighter and raised a paw, trying as hard as he could to keep the quaver in his voice down to a minimum, "A-actually, not really... see, Ryan only told me-"
But before he could continue, Ms. Mahler stood up and interrupted him. "Of course, Ryan..." She began to circle the desk again, trailing her fingertips along the edge as she spoke, "I only agreed to meet with you as a favor to him. He was probably the best intern our company's had, certainly in my time here. He was diligent, intelligent, and courteous, but my only complaint with his performance was that he never quite seemed to recognize the necessity of taking things seriously. He told me that you would be the perfect choice for this job, and I'll be honest - I don't know what he was thinking."
She was standing directly in front of Jeremy now, leaning back against her desk and glaring down at him, with her paws folded across her chest. Her fur was jet black, and her immaculately-tailored suit was almost as dark. She had on a charcoal grey blouse underneath her jacket, and her skirt cling tightly to her hips and reached down almost to her knees. She was tall already, and the heels on her shoes made her even taller. She was a big, powerful, stern feline - and perhaps for some sort of primal reason, big cats always had a profound effect on him. He had been fighting it since he arrived, but he was feeling spectacularly small at the moment. From the way she was pontificating, it was clear that he was about to be dismissed from her office. The interview was about to be over, so whatever he did now hardly mattered. It's not like anything he could do at this point would make it worse.
She continued, "I'm sorry to sound harsh, Jeremy, but I'm disappointed in Ryan for recommending you to us, because he clearly wasted our respective times. I don't know whether he was simply being naive and trying to help a friend who needed a hand, or if he was attempting to play a trick on you, but I don't see how he could have thought you were an appropriate candidate for this position, which requires a high level of training and specialization, not to mention a thorough grounding in the background theory underlying our methods and techniques. To think that someone could just walk in here and ... and ..." she stopped suddenly, and gave Jeremy a confused look for a moment. "Are you sucking your thumb?"
He was, but he hadn't even noticed that he was doing it until she had mentioned it. She had been so wrapped up in delivering her speech that she hadn't noticed, either, while his paw was slowly drifting up to his muzzle, and then when his thumb was sliding in between his lips, and when he started nursing on it, absent-mindedly trying to relieve some little bit of the nervousness and stress he was experiencing. He crossed his eyes and looked down at the tip of his muzzle. He clearly saw the same row of knuckles he always saw when he was sucking on his thumb, but a part of him still recognized that was an entirely inappropriate thing to do in a job interview, even one that was going as poorly as this one, so he quickly shook his head and mumbled, "Nuh-uh!" without even removing his thumb from his muzzle first.
Understandably, Ms. Mahler was somewhat taken aback by this development, because she had conducted hundreds of interviews in her career, and spontaneous thumb-sucking was definitely not something she had experienced before. She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as she watched the small but clearly adult mouseboy sitting there on the phone book, legs dangling in the air, while he continued sucking on his thumb. The way she was looking at him seemed as if there was something about him she was only beginning to notice. It was the first bit of genuine interest she seemed to show towards him during their entire interaction.
She leaned forward somewhat and reached out with a jet-black paw, not seeming entirely sure of herself, but also not being the type of person to second-guess her instincts, since years of experience had proven them usually to be right. "Jeremy..." she said quietly, her brow furrowed thoughtfully, "Is that..." she pressed the tip of her index finger against the knot of the mouse's tie. He fidgeted in his seat and kept sucking on his thumb, but otherwise didn't really know how to react. Ms. Mahler hooked her finger behind the mouse's tie, finding a small metal piece there which she tugged on and then pulled back with. "It is," she said, her suspicions confirmed. "It's a clip-on tie!"
She seemed to consider the object in her paw for a moment, and then the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile. "Hmm." She placed the mouse's training tie on the surface of the desk behind her and then looked at Jeremy again, this time with a different sense of purpose in her eyes. She rested her elbow in a palm, and tapped her chin thoughtfully with her other paw. "I wonder..." Her whole demeanor had changed, from purely business and eager to have the mouse out of her fur to - well, to something else. Her smile was a perfect example of that mixture of playful and predatory which felines have perfected more than any other species by far.
The pantheress leaned forward, placing her paws on the fronts of her thighs as she smiled down at the thumb-sucking mouseboy, now without his tie. She consciously adjusted her facial expression to highlight the 'playful' aspect and downplay the 'predatory' or 'sneaky' or 'crafty' sort of look. It mostly worked. "Jeremy," she said slowly, with a new patience behind her voice, each of her syllables slightly drawn out. "I know that it's already listed on your resume, but ... do you think you could tell me again, just so I can be sure, how old you are, please? Could you do that for me?"
It was a simple question. Too simple, really. Why would she be asking him something like that? She must have had some other reason for asking a question as easy as that one. Jeremy furrowed his brow and sucked harder on his thumb while he tried to figure it out, which just made Ms. Mahler smile wider as she watched him. He soon realized that he was taking much too long to respond to such a simple question, so he just decided to forget about trying to figure out her motives and answer. The only problem was, when he actually set his mind to remembering his age, he had a little bit of trouble. He was starting to get that fuzzy, cottony feeling inside his head. But he ignored it and kept on trying.
"I'm, umm..." He could picture the numbers in his mind, or at least the first one. It was kind of curvy at the top, but then it came back around and made a point, then it was flat on the bottom. He squeaked around his thumb and started to try to draw the shape of the first number in the air, wiggling his paw kind of haphazardly before he remembered, "Two! I'm two!" But he scrunched up his face after he said it, because he quickly realized that didn't sound quite right. He shook his head, "Nuh-uh, wait... hold on, I'm two - an' then there's anudder number, after it..." He couldn't quite remember that other number, just now, but he knew he was two and something.
Ms. Mahler nodded her head in an slightly exaggeratedly reassuring, encouraging fashion. "That's right!" she cooed, while the tip of her black tail began to twitch behind her, flicking back and forth, back and forth. Jeremy found it very distracting. "You did a very good job on that question, Jeremy. Now I have another one for you, if you're ready. I'm sure you'll have no problem with this one, either. It's just a silly little thing, really. Do you think you could you please tell me your ABC's, if you know them?"
This had to be a trick. First she asked him his age, and now this? He knew that she was up to something sneaky, but he couldn't figure out what and he had no idea why she was doing it. Surely he wasn't going to get the job now, whatever it was, so why was she just torturing him? He had a vague recollection of how cats liked to do that to mice and he started to fidget, noticing that slight warm feeling in between his legs again. Without his tie to tug on, his free paw start grabbing onto his shirt and tugging on it instead, absent-mindedly untucking it from his pants.
But he could answer this. Whatever reason she had for asking, he knew that he knew this. He couldn't even remember ever not knowing something so simple. He'd just say it and get it over with. He nodded his head and squeaked, "Uh-huh... yeah, okay..." He realized that he had better concentrate and not mess this up, since he probably hadn't done as well as he should have on the last question. He furrowed his brow and breathed in deeply through his nose, sucking determinedly on his thumb before he started, "A, B, C..."
That was how it started, of course. That was the easy part. She had given him those three. But what were the other ones? There were a bunch more, weren't there? And they all went in a certain order too, one after the other. He hesitated and made some 'umming' noises before he started over, repeating those first three letters, and then doing that again, trying to jump-start his brain. He didn't have any luck, though, and he felt himself getting more and more embarrassed as he failed to answer such a silly, simple question. He bashfully tugged up on his shirt until he was accidentally showing off his bare tummy to the pantheress. He mumbled, "I normally know all of dem but wight now I can't 'member da west..."
Ms. Mahler seemed delighted at this response, although Jeremy had no idea why that might be. She clasped her paws together in front of her and nodded approvingly again, praising him for his failure to recall the alphabet, oddly enough, "That's okay! That was very good, Jeremy. I just have one more question to ask you, and then the interview will be all done. Is that okay? Can you handle that, Jeremy? Good, that's good."
She paused, lowering her eyes from his face until they came to rest on his shiny black shoes. On the way down, they may have passed over the mouse's pudgy belly and might even have spotted the slightest hint of a plasticky waistband peeking out over the top of his neatly-pressed dress slacks, but if she did, she didn't make any outward sign of it with her facial expression of body language. The tip of her tail did continue to dance around behind her, though.
"Oh, just a moment, hold on," she said, as she leaned further down and reached her paw out again, carefully taking hold of the end of one of the mouse's shoelaces between her thumb and index finger, before delicately tugging on it until the whole bow came loose. "Oh my," she clucked her tongue and looked back up at the mouseboy, who was regarding his untied shoes with a frown. "Before I get to that last question, I just noticed that your shoelace has come undone! Can you take care of that first, Jeremy? Just tie it right on up again, and then we'll finish your interview, okay?" She stood up and once again slipped her paws under his armpits and hefted him off the chair, but this time her touch was much more gentle and careful, as she placed him down on the floor beside the chair where he had been sitting. Then she leaned back against the desk once again and nodded at him encouragingly, "Go on, Jeremy. You can do it."
Jeremy stood there for a moment, his knees feeling kind of rubbery. He was still sucking on his thumb. He looked up at the pantheress, who seemed even taller now than she had a moment ago, somehow, and then down at his neat, black dress shoes, one of which had an obviously-out-of-place untied lace. He could tie it again, though, it was simple! He had tied them in the first place, after all, that morning when he was getting dressed. But as he stood there, feeling himself wobbling slightly, he thought about how he was unable to remember his alphabet, just a few moments ago. Would he fare any better with his shoelaces? Of course he would! He didn't even have to think about how to tie shoelaces, he would just start doing it, and his paws would do the rest. When was the last time he had to think about it, anyway? It would be fine!
He leaned over and popped his thumb out of his muzzle so he could reach down for his shoelace, taking one end in each of his paws. Then he waited for his mind and muscle memory to take over, but nothing seemed to be happening. Except that bending over in that position made him feel a growing pressure in his bladder, which just distracted him further from trying to remember how to tie his shoes. He frowned and stuck the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. He knew his paws had to start moving, so he began to tug at the laces randomly, wiggling his paws around in an effort to get the process moving. The laces had to go over each other, right? So he crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again, but the laces were in the same state they were in a moment before.
He was beginning to get frustrated, not only by his inability to relace his shoes, but also by the steadily increasing pressure in his lower tummy. He drew his knees closer together and began to struggle more forcefully with his errant shoelace, but he only managed to wrap the string around one of his wrists, needing a moment to struggle his way out of that. He started to make soft whining noises as his frustration built, but his concentration was gradually slipping further and further away from his laces. He was fidgeting and wiggling and eventually even kind of hopping up and down while he uselessly tugged at his shoestrings, and all-in-all putting on quite a show. Ms. Mahler certainly seemed to be enjoying it, based on the wide smile spread across her muzzle and the rapid-fire activity of the tip of her tail.
Suddenly, Jeremy stopped fidgeting. He gasped and opened his eyes wide when he felt an all-too-familiar release of pressure. He had started wetting his pants. And not just a little trickle or leak, oh no. He was full-on soaking his pull-ups. He could feel the steady stream emptying out into the slight layer of padding around his waist. Of course, trainer pants like these were never meant to handle accidents that were quite so high-volume, and this pair had already gotten a little bit damp over the course of the interview, so the mousepee wasn't getting absorbed anywhere near as quickly as it normally might be. He could feel it pooling down in between his legs, warmth spreading slowly back up over his seat and then - oh no...
He had enough experience with accidents to recognize when he was having one that was not going to be contained by whatever protective underwear he happened to be wearing at the moment. And apparently, in his nervousness about the interview this morning, he hadn't thought about trying to empty his bladder before he got here. He hadn't piddled since he went to bed the night before, which meant he was going a lot, right then. Even as he felt the first trickles of wetness starting to leak from the legholes of his pull-ups and begin to trickle down the insides of his thighs, he was still going just as strong. He still hadn't moved, and when he glanced up from his yet-untied shoelace he saw a strangely thrilled expression on the pantheress's face. She leaned forward again, paws on her knees, and pursed her lips, cooing quietly as if nothing was the matter, "Aww, what's wrong? Having a little bit of trouble with those laces, lil' man?" Her tail was flicking wildly back and forth behind her.
Jeremy could only gurgle softly in response. She hadn't changed her tone of voice significantly, but it was enough to have a distinct effect on the mouseboy. Her posture, her vocal shapes, her expression, all of her sharp edges had been softened, as if she was dealing with someone much, much smaller than her. And of course, being on the receiving end of that sort of treatment, while at the same time failing to tie his shoelace and also soaking his training pants until they leaked into his best slacks, left Jeremy feeling extraordinarily small and helpless. His knees buckled and he slumped back onto the floor, landing on his rather wet backside with a mixture of a *squish* and a *thud.* Now he felt even littler, as he found himself seated on the floor, his head seemed to be just below the level of the pantheress's stocking-covered knees. Giving up on his shoelaces, he pulled his paw back up to his muzzle and resumed sucking on his thumb.
Ms. Mahler did not seem to have any particularly strong reaction to the mouse's admittedly unusual behavior, although she couldn't quite stifle a giggle at the way he fell back onto his tushie. She squatted down in front of him, getting closer to his level and wrapping her arms around her knees as she smiled at the seated, thumb-sucking mouseboy. "That's okay, little guy. Shoelaces can be very tricky, I understand. I won't count that against you, don't worry. Anyway, on to the last question. This is the last thing I need you to do for me, and then we'll be all done with the interview, okay? Can you say your name for me, honey? Can you?" She smiled warmly and raised her eyebrows again, waiting for him to respond.
Jeremy sat there in his leaking training pants, feeling the sloshing wetness all around his crotch and his bottom. He was pretty sure he had at least stopped wetting any more at that point, but he wasn't entirely sure. It was hard to focus on much of anything for very long. He continued to have a vague sense of the fact that he wasn't behaving the way he ought to in a job interview - or any professional situation, really - but at this point, there wasn't much he could do about it. He did remember to pull his thumb out of his muzzle before he answered Ms. Mahler's question, although it didn't really help his enunciation too much, in the end. His lips and tongue all felt kind of wubbewy - rubbery, that is - and so all of his vowels and consonants got kind of mixed together. His name was already rife with soft consonants to begin with, so it didn't do much good for him to muddle his name into the juvenile-sounding, "Jah-wuh-mee." He blinked and realized that hadn't sounded right, so he repeated himself, but this time it was even worse. He swallowed the second syllable almost entirely, and ended up squeaking, "Jahw-mee."
The pantheress was unable to help herself, after witnessing such an adorable display of fragile adult composure breaking down into infantile helplessness. She reached a paw forward and pinched his cheek gently, purring pleasantly as the mouse squirmed where he sat, feeling unbelievably puzzled and embarrassed. "Oh, that's such a good job! You really should have listed that on your resume, sweetie. 'Can't count past two, recite alphabet, or tie shoes, but knows own name and can almost say it!' " This teasing made Jeremy whine into his thumb and tug awkwardly at his shirt with his free paw again, and so Ms. Mahler patted him on the head reassuringly. "Aww, I'm sorry, little man. Don't worry, I was only teasing. Why don't you stand back up and take a seat on the chair again? I can see that we have some discussion ahead of us, yet."
Standing was something that Jeremy could do, definitely. Well, normally. At the moment, he wasn't sure that he remembered exactly how his legs worked. He reached his free paw down to pat his thigh experimentally, and then started trying to figure out the best way to stand up again. He figured that if he rolled over onto all fours, that would be a good start, and he could work his way up from there. So he popped his thumb out of his muzzle once again and rolled onto his paws and knees. In the process, he accidentally presented the seat of his pants to the pantheress, and after his thorough wetting and fall back onto his rear, the formerly tan color of his slacks left it immediately obvious that Jeremy had a very soaky little bottom. There was a dark, shiny wet patch from the base of his tail all the way down in between his legs, spread all the way across his backside and even starting to run down the insides of his thighs.
Ms. Mahler squealed, raising her paws to her muzzle momentarily, "Oh my goodness! Look at you! You've leaked all over yourself! Oh, you're just too adorable, you helpless little muffin!" Unable to leave him sitting there like that, she swooped in and lifted the wet mouseboy up by his armpits again, but rather than setting him down on his phonebook booster-seat, she held him to her soft chest, one palm underneath his drippy behind while the other soothingly rubbed his back. She nuzzled her nose into his headfur, in between his ears, and began lickgrooming him, as felines often do, in a way that was odd but not entirely unpleasant. Jeremy found himself snuggling in against the big, warm pantheress. "Let's get you cleaned up, first thing, and then we can talk."
Still holding Jeremy in one arm, she leaned over her desk to press a button on the intercom, "Valerie? It seems that our job candidate here had a little accident and needs a dry pair of pants. Could you bring in the necessary supplies for me? You got a look at him when he was coming in, so you can make a pretty good guess at his size, I'm sure. I'm betting 'small.'" Then she carried him around to the other side of her desk and sat his wet butt down in the middle - right on top of his resume, in fact - and then gently guided him until he was laying on his back. She hummed quietly to herself as she tugged the unlaced shoe off his foot, then untied the other and repeated the process. His socks were tugged off next, and she gently tickled the underside his footpaw with her fingertips, cooing, "Coochie-coochie-coo!"
He was, of course, unable to stop himself from squealing and giggling, as he laid back on Ms. Mahler's large and expensive desk. He squirmed there, feeling weirdly as if he was on a changing table. He was struck by how suddenly his own opinions about what was going to happen next had been removed from the equation. It was all happening rather quickly, and Jeremy couldn't help but remain confused at the way that this interview was progressing. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly in a state to ask for an explanation, just at the moment. His mind was fluttering back and forth between being grown-up enough to be embarrassed and puzzled and being sufficiently cubbified to prevent him from worrying much at all about what was going on. She was just taking care of him, and he had made a pretty good case for needing to be taken care of, after all.
He happened to be in the middle of a fleeting moment of clarity when Ms. Mahler unbuckled his belt and then undid his fly so she could tug his pants down his hips. He yelped and tried to reach a paw down to hold on to his slacks, hoping to keep them at least mostly covering his pull-ups, but his hand was summarily shooed away as the pantheress ignored his protest and tugged them off entirely, momentarily showing him just how soaked his seat was before setting them aside. "No fussing now, squirt. Anybody who has enough of an accident to soak right through their pull-ups needs to have someone else change them, that's all there is to it. I wouldn't trust you to walk to the bathroom at this point, much less clean yourself up. You just lay back and let me take care of things. I'm sure this isn't new for you, anyway." She winked and pursed her lips, making a kissy-face down at the mouseboy as she began unbuttoning his dress shirt.
It wasn't long before he was laying back on this boss-lady's big, heavy desk, wearing nothing but his sodden training pants. And he had a bad feeling those weren't going to last much longer, either. Ms. Mahler was struck by the uncanny resemblance the nearly-undressed mouse had to a real (if oversized, slightly) infant, with his downy-soft fur and his layer of babyfat, his rounded features, his pudgy digits, and large eyes, he unwittingly was in possession of the set of features that denote adorable, ineffectual helplessness to larger creatures, filling them with a natural desire to take care of him, when he acted this way. She tickled his ribs up to his armpits and then leaned down to blow a zerbert on his belly. How could he not squeal and giggle and squirm?
"Oh, you're just a perfect little piddle-pants, aren't you? What were you doing, thinking you were big enough for pull-ups, huh? I bet that looks like a pretty silly decision now, doesn't it, mister squeaky-bottom?" She lifted his lower body up by his ankles with one paw and patted his seat with the other while she shook her head and chuckled. "Or should I say squishy bottom? You sure showed those trainers who's boss, didn't you? Those happy little stars are all gone!" she said as she laid him back down, referring to the wetness indicators which had no so much faded as vanished entirely. "We'd better get you out of these things you leak on my carpet any more!"
She began to tear the sides of his trainers, and the sound of ripping plastic made Jeremy open his eyes wide and shake his head back and forth, reaching his paws down to hold the front of his soaked pull-up in place. It was embarrassing enough to be stripped down to piddled-in undies, but to go one step further was somehow much, much worse. He let out a plaintive whine, but the pantheress pushed a fingertip against his lips and shushed him soothingly. "Oh, quiet down, little one. You've been through this before. I bet Ryan's changed you plenty of times, hmm? Am I right?" She smiled knowingly, and Jeremy bashfully withdrew his paws, allowing Ms. Mahler to finish tearing the sides of his pull-ups and then once again lifting him by his ankles so she could tug the sodden trainers out from underneath him, ball them up and toss them in the wastebin beside her desk.
She grinned as she turned back to the squirming, naked little mouseboy, reaching down to just barely tickle the tip of his mousie-hood with her finger. "Besides, you've barely got anything to be embarrassed about showing off, anyway." She snickered a bit to herself, her tailtip flicking as she was able to actually see his cheeks redden. "Aww! You're just the most adorable, scrumptious little morsel, aren't you? You're perfect!" She seemed to be very happy with the situation, which was more than a little baffling to Jeremy, who - despite being glad to see that his interviewer seemed to be happy with his performance in the interview - wasn't sure how his current behavior could possibly be helping his chances at any kind of job, whatsoever. He resumed nervously sucking on his thumb, while Ms. Mahler cooed over him and tickled under his chin or played 'this little piggy' with his toes. "That Ryan is just too clever for his own good, isn't he? I'll definitely have to thank him for sending you my way!"
Just then, the door opened and Valerie, the pantheress's vixen secretary, walked in with an armful of supplies. To her credit, she did not seem especially perturbed at the sight of the mouseboy laying naked on her boss's desk. Jeremy fidgeted in embarrassment at being seen this way by somebody else, but Valerie just giggled as she handed things off to Ms. Mahler. "Aww, what a little cutie! I never would have guessed he'd make such a good baby. Oh, by the way, I got a bottle of juice ready, just in case."
The panther-lady smiled warmly and nodded her head, setting up the supplies on the desk, her tone with her assistant still cordial, but much more adult and professional than the way she had been interacting with Jeremy. In both cases, though, it was clear that Ms. Mahler was in a position of superiority, and didn't mind acting like it. She plucked a few cold babywipes from the box and began to clean off the mouse's wet fur, humming softly to herself after she thanked the vixen. Valerie hung around for a few moments, leaning over Jeremy and making funny faces at him while Ms. Mahler wiped him down, unfolded a thick, baby-printed disposable diaper, slid it under his backside, powdered him up, and then taped him snugly in the much more appropriate type of padding, which would be able to handle a much bigger accident without too much trouble.
"There we are, now. Isn't that much better, mousekers? You'll need to try harder to make that leak! It's specially designed for bigger babies and heavy wetters like you seem to be." She hefted him up from the desk and then settled down into her reclining, high-backed office chair, cradling him against her arm. When Jeremy began to fidget, she reached for the baby bottle filled with apple juice and pushed the nipple into his muzzle. He reflexively began to suckle and slurp down the nice, cold juice, and the panther-lady turned to the vixen. "Okay, you'd better leave us alone for a bit. I think I have to explain some things to little Jeremy, here. Thank you for bringing that stuff in so quickly. I wouldn't have wanted him to piddle all over my desk." As Valerie was on her way out the door, Ms. Mahler called after her, "Oh, by the way - make sure to schedule the cleaners to come and take a look at my carpet. I'd hate for his accident to leave a stain."
With the vixen gone, Ms. Mahler settled back in her chair and just enjoyed the warmth of the little bundle of fur in her arms, the rhythmic suckling noises he made as he swallowed mouthfuls of juice, and the quiet rustling from the crinkly plastic shell of his diaper whenever he shifted his weight even a little bit. She let out a peaceful sigh and leaned down to kiss his headfur, in between his ears. Jeremy, for his part, was still completely confused, but at least he felt comfortable and safe. He had been swept away in Ms. Mahler's care, and he was naturally predisposed to be vulnerable to just that sort of thing. It was amazing how easy it was to ignore his problems, whatever they might be, when he was curled up on someone else's lap while they were feeding him from a bottle and he had a clean, dry diaper wrapped around his bottom.
"Now, then... where should I begin?" Ms. Mahler mused, as she looked up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry if I treated you a bit harshly before, Jeremy. But I think you'll understand, once I explain things a bit. I should have known that Ryan was up to something, that sneaky puppy. In any case, I won't go into too much detail because a lot of the specifics can get very technical and I think even if you weren't ... well, in the state you're in now, some of it would go over your head. But we do some very important and difficult work here in our office. Everyone here has to work very hard, and sometimes they don't get to see any positive results from their work for a very long time, and sometimes they don't get any positive results at all. That's just the way it is, in our business."
"But the thing is, workers need to feel accomplished and satisfied by the work that they're doing, especially when it requires a great deal of sustained concentration and hard work over long periods of time. Without it, people get discouraged and lose interest in their work, which leads to them putting in less effort and overall the quality of work goes down. You can see how this is a bad thing, right mouseling? So anyway, it's important for me to give my employees a feeling of accomplishment to keep them engaged with their work, even if what they do doesn't quite give them that feeling by itself. Obviously, the other managers and I do our best to foster those feelings through our regular interactions, but sometimes that's just not enough. Does that make sense, honey?" Jeremy nodded his head, slowly, still not sure what any of this had to do with anything else.
"People have tried a lot of different things to fill that gap. Intra-office competitions, specially designed video game breaks, anything to tap into the mind's accomplishment endorphins and get them to associate those reactions with having a productive workday. But a lot of the things that people tried ended up backfiring. Competitions between workers left everyone who didn't win feeling negative about the process, and most of the video game-style tasks actually ended up distracting employees from their own work. The others had no measurable effect. So a lot of thought went into figuring out some kind of process that would give people the feeling of accomplishment that they needed."
"But by this point," the pantheress grinned widely and smiled down at the still-nursing mousie in her arms. "I'm sure you've guessed at the answer they came up with." When Jeremy just sat there and stared up at her, she laughed and bounced him in her lap, "Infant care, of course! To me, it actually seems sort of obvious in retrospect. Almost nothing is more emotionally fulfilling or satisfying than caring for a little cubby who needs it. Our natural tendency to want to care for smaller, helpless creatures has evolved in us over millions of years. It's hard-wired into our brains! You see, little mouseling, the ancestors who took better care of their young had a better chance of surviving and reproducing, so over time, it had been coded into our DNA to want to clean, feed, protect, and play with tiny, cute, fuzzy, defenseless things. Like you!" she grinned and beeped his nose with her fingertip before continuing.
"The first attempts to make use of this evolutionary quirk were problematic. Obviously, there are ethical and pragmatic concerns with trying to use a real infant in this sort of program, not to mention the fact that actual children are only in their prime 'cute' period for a year or two. And most importantly, part of the reason that babies have to be built to exploit evolutionary weaknesses in our brains is that some of the time, rearing children is an exhausting, thankless, frustrating, and extremely unpleasant job, so they have to be so cute to make up for those times. But then some people developed a method which maintained - and in fact, highlighted - the most beneficial (at least for the purpose of the bigger furs) aspects of childcare, while removing the negatives from the equation. And that was to employ a simulated infant in place of a real one. Somebody who just happened to be closer to the right size who could act out the role of a cute and cuddly widdle baby."
"That's the position that you were interviewing for, little man. And the reason I was so curt with you earlier is that really, in order to consider someone for this type of position, they would need to be thoroughly trained in the theory behind our program, including a lot of very recent scientific data about the types of child-like behavior that most strongly tap into the desired parts of our brains, and how those behaviors can relate to increasing workplace morale and an employee's sense of accomplishment, while also being able to actually perform these things in a convincing, engaging and not self-aware or distancing way. It's an extremely technical position, so I was annoyed with Ryan that he had even asked me to interview you, since it seemed to me that you were clearly unqualified. Well, I guess he was smarter than I gave him credit for. I certainly didn't count on you being such a natural little cutie-pie! Oh, you're the best candidate I've seen by a mile! I couldn't help myself from just needing to cuddle you up."
"To make a long story short, little guy, in our office, we have someone play baby for our employees to play with and take care of, because it helps them stay motivated and energized for their jobs, see? So whoever gets this position, well - it becomes their job to make to be sweet and helpless and cute so people can enjoy looking after them. Does that make sense?"
She noticed that Jeremy had finished his juice by now, so she plucked the bottle from his muzzle and laid him over her shoulder. A few firm pats to his back elicited the desired belch from the mousie, which was immediately followed by a delighted giggle from Ms. Mahler. "You're just too perfect, precious! You've got just the right build," she cooed as she laid him back in the crook of her arm and pinched his cheek, then rubbed his little buddha belly. "And an ideal candidate has to be able to accurately perform a whole range of juvenile behaviors, since different people respond more strongly to a child at different stages of development, from essentially newborn up to a toddler. I've watched you regress almost all the way back, and I bet if I gave it a little effort, I could have you gurgling and drooling and forgetting how to sit up or roll over for a while." She flashed a feline grin and then just giggled again, standing up from her chair with Jeremy still in her arms.
"But not now, no. I think I'd better show you our facilities. Of course, I do hope you'll take the job, honey, but you're not under any obligation to do so. I want you to see what you'd be signing up for, before you make any decision. Come along now," she cooed, as if the mouse had any choice in the matter, while she began to carry him out of the office, resting him on her hip with one arm under his puffy, diapered bottom. She paused at the intercom for a moment and buzzed Valerie. "I'm going to go show Jeremy the nursery. Could you get him a pacifier, please?"
In the time it took Ms. Mahler to walk from her desk to the door of her office, the vixen had somehow managed to procure a brightly- and primary-colored plastic pacifier, and she was waiting to hand it off to the pantheress. She smiled and nodded, thanking Valerie before placing the soother in Jeremy's maw. He gurgled softly and just leaned in against Ms. Mahler's side, clinging to her suit. This was a lot to take in, and it was all coming at him pretty fast. As he was struggling to grasp the possibility of how this thing that had always been such a big problem for him in social situations - his regressive tendencies - might actually get him a job, he didn't pause to really notice that he was being carried through a busy office wearing nothing but a diaper with a pacifier planted firmly in his muzzle. Fortunately for him, there wasn't much of a reaction - most people were too focused on whatever task they were working on to do more than turn and smile, or perhaps emit a soft "Aww," at the sight.
Jeremy was carried to another corner of the office, where Ms. Mahler unlocked a rather nondescript office door that looked like it could have led into a supply room or something. But instead, on the other side was the most well-stocked baby's playroom that the mouse had ever seen - or even imagined, really. It had big windows that faced the sun and let in a huge amount of natural light, bathing the room in a kind of warm glow. Everything looked soft and shiny and padded for protection, as well as brightly-colored and baby-safe. There was a big playpen, of course, which was filled with a surprisingly varied group of stuffed animals. There were other plushies scattered around as well, amidst a mind-boggling assortment of other baby toys. There were ring-stackers and building blocks and shape-learning toys and big, foam-board children's books that didn't have paper pages for little paws to tear. There was an activity gym, the kind that an infant lays underneath and has a lot of dangling, shiny, noisy pieces to play with, and an array of busy boxes and plastic cabinets with buttons that made noises or flashed lights or other things. The whole floor seemed to be printed foam rubber, and it was covered with multicolored puzzle-shaped pieces that had big block letters or numbers on them. There was a playmat on one side of the room that had a kind of city street map printed on it, and there were some plastic cars and trucks sitting nearby, close to a rocking horse. There also seemed to be a little table with a tea set in the corner. And as if that wasn't enough, there was a nicely-sized television hanging on the wall.
Having never seen a display of infantile excess on that sort of scale, Jeremy's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. The pacifier tumbled from his muzzle, but Ms. Mahler caught it - she did have cat-like reflexes, after all. She let him take in the sight for a moment, then replaced the pacifier between his lips, and then began to explain a little, "Very impressive, don't you think? Studies have shown that these sorts of accessories and surroundings do a great job of heightening the effectiveness of the program, so we've spared no expense. Now that TV is hooked up to a DVD player, but you won't be able to watch too much. Just things like Sesame Street and Blue's Clues and other appropriately child-like fare. It won't be hooked up to football or something when there's nobody in here to play with you. See, there a couple little webcams hooked up in the room," she pointed to a couple very unobtrusive little spots in the corners, "The feed is streamed to all of our intranet computers. That way, if somebody just needs a quick cuteness pick-me-up, they can just check on you - or whoever ends up in this position, I mean - and spend a minute or two watching an adorable little cub at play. It really does work wonders! It also helps to establish a rapport between employees and the baby they're taking care of. And that's also the system that we would use to allow people to book a block of time taking care of the baby, anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour at most. A reservation system prevents disagreements over whose 'turn' it is - which turned out to be fairly common, in other offices that used this method."
The pantheress snickered and tickled under Jeremy's chin again, "And none of them had a baby half as cute as you are! They'll be fighting for the chance to change your diapers - ahem, that is, of course, if you decide to take the job. Which we hope you will! But now, if you've seen enough of the playroom, why don't I show you the rest of your 'office' as it were." She walked over to another door and stepped inside, into a smaller, less lavishly-decorated but just as adorable room. This one also had windows facing the sun, but it had very strong blackout curtains that kept almost of the light out, making it tricky to tell that it was still daylight outside. There was a big crib in a corner, with padded covers to protect the cub inside from the wooden slats. The inside of the crib was just littered with impossibly soft and fuzzy-looking pillows, plushies, and blankets, and there was a big, night sky-themed mobile hanging above it. There was a fully-stocked changing table, of course, and one corner of the room had a kind of mini-kitchen, with a small fridge and cupboard, a high chair, and a sink that actually looked like it would be big enough for him to take a bath in. He thought he noticed a little potty chair in a corner, too. There was a rocking chair and a bassinet and a swinging cradle - plenty of ways to put a little cub to sleep in here, it seemed.
It may not have been quite as much of an overload as the last room was, but seeing a room so specifically and thoroughly designed to be used for the most intimate moments between a cubby and a caretaker - sleeping, feeding, bathing, and changing - had an even more profound effect on Jeremy. It set his brain buzzing, and filled him with immensely cubbyish feelings. He gurgled around his soother and rested his head on Ms. Mahler's shoulder, clinging tightly to her suitcoat. The pantheress reached up and rubbed the back of his head gently, "Aww, it's okay, sweetie. I guess you can tell what kind of things this room is for, huh? This is for getting you fed and getting your widdle tummy all filled... and changing your diapers when you've had accidents... and bath times, and of course, for your naps. Can you just imagine how inspired people will be by taking a break from their work and opening up a window on their computers so they can take a peek at such an adorable little baby mouse, dozing in his crib?"
She pressed her nose in between his ears and nuzzled him there, lickgrooming his fur a few times before letting out a soft sigh and giving him a squeeze. "Of course, it's your decision. I would understand if you didn't want the job, but I'll admit that would make me sad. I think you're the perfect person to do this, and I also think this is the perfect thing for you, from what I can tell. I'm generally a very good judge of character, I should say. And by the way, since it normally requires so much specialized ability and training, this position pays very well, and I'll absolutely overlook the usual prerequisites, in such a special case like yours." Jeremy looked up at her, seeming dazed, blinking a few times as he nursed on his soother. Ms. Mahler just smiled.
"I can see you need a little time to think it over. Absolutely." She paused for a moment and looked thoughtful, gently rubbing his tummy with her free paw. "Hmm. It doesn't look like you're in much of a state to head home by yourself just now, does it? So why don't I call Ryan and have him come pick you up? Just give me a call or send me an e-mail when you've made your decision. Whatever your choice, it was wonderful to meet you, and it was a pleasure to change your diaper, Jeremy. I should probably be getting back to my work, anyway." She kissed his forehead and carried him back out of the nursery towards her office, smiling a little bit sadly as she went. Jeremy would have answered her right then and there, but he was just too stunned at the seeming impossibility of his situation, and overwhelmed with a rush of irrepressible cubbyishness so severe that his language skills had been severely impaired. He just needed to be cuddled, for a while, until the need would pass.
It turned out to last quite a while, though. He didn't come out of it during the forty minutes or so it took for Ryan to come and pick him up. He spent the first twenty of those curled up in the lap of Ms. Mahler's vixen secretary, Valerie, and the other twenty in the lap of Stephanie, the receptionist bunny who'd met him at the door. Both seemed happy - thrilled, in fact - at the chance to briefly snuggle and coddle such a sweet, helpless little mousie, and their treatment probably kept him in his state longer than he would have under more normal circumstances. He even stayed in that state of mind after Ryan picked him up, the malamute grinning from ear to ear while his big fluffy tail pistoned powerfully back and forth and he took the little mouse from the bunny, along with a plastic bag containing his still-wet clothes. Ryan chuckled and rubbed his nose against Jeremy's cheek, "I told you this was perfect you, little buddy! Looks like you showed them your best stuff, huh?" While he was being carried into the elevators, Stephanie grinned at him and waved 'bye-bye' as he looked at her over Ryan's shoulder, raising a paw and shyly waving back.
In fact, Jeremy didn't fully get out of his babyish-state until he got back to his house, and Ryan plopped the now more or less todder-abled mouse down in his room, then went on his way, happy to have helped the mouseboy get back home, but he had stuff he had to do. Jeremy immediately went to his computer - as soon he felt like he had regained sufficient fine motor control to do so - and fired off an e-mail to Ms. Mahler.
"Dear Ms. Mahler,
It was wonderful to meet you today and to talk with you about such an exciting job opportunity. I believe that you are correct, and that this job fits perfectly with my unique set of skills. I would be honored to accept your offer, and will be happy to start work as soon as you would like me to.
Sincerely,
Jeremy"