Pet's Punishment 8/10: Work
#8 of Pet's Punishment
It was marvelous, having my Pet all to myself for a weekend, after a week without him. Nonetheless, as it always does, Monday came, and work came with it. Two alarms shattered the morning calm of our bedroom. My rabbit began to stir from his curled up ball of plush fur, totally hidden in blankets, between my spread legs, where he had been so deliciously attentive the night before.
"Time to get up Pet." Normally, Sherman wakes before I do. He goes to work earlier, and he's home earlier. This week, I set my alarm to match his. He'd need a morning change. I threw back the covers: an abrupt change from his usual morning creep past my slumbering form, but it would save time.
He padded to the closet, and began selecting suit components, preparing himself for his "professional" persona.
"Let's have breakfast first, today." Usually he dresses before breakfast, and I after, so we can spend at least a little time dining together, even with shifted work and wake-up times.
He nodded sleepily, and we made our way to the kitchen. Breakfast was nothing special, just some cereal and milk.
"I'll change you when we're done, before we get you dressed," I reminded him. He knew he wasn't supposed to worry about when to relieve himself, but work presented certain practical difficulties. I hoped the reminder would prompt him to empty himself before his last pre-workday change.
The sudden realization, however, hit my groggy Pet like a slap to the face. His blue eyes shot open, and he stared up at me, lips moving, but finding no words.
"Don't worry, my Pet," I reached out to scratch the fur between his ears, soothing him. "Remember what I said about trusting me with your needs, and you can always call me, any time you need anything. I mean that."
He relaxed visibly. After a few moments, I realized he was relaxing . . . more than usual. A faint hiss reached my ears as he sat very still. I smiled, and continued on with breakfast.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a little after lunch, and I was just getting out of a meeting when my phone went off. It was a text, from Sherman.
"Need your help. Bathroom nearest my office, large stall. Bring supplies."
Admittedly I was guessing, but from the last line I was pretty sure my fears about sending him in for a full work day in a diaper had come true: he needed a change, and badly. I rushed to my car, making some excuse about a personal emergency to co-workers I passed, texting back to him:
"I will take care of everything. I'm on my way."
I was at his building within twenty minutes. I took the backpack I'd had in the trunk since he got back. In it were some spare clothes, diapers, wipes, powder, rash cream, and trash bags.
When at last I found the bathroom, it seemed totally empty. There were no sounds, not even feet under the stall doors. I knocked at the handicap stall at the end.
"Pet, are you in there?" I called softly.
"Master?" came a low, almost choked response.
"Whatever it is, I'll fix it, but you're going to have to let me in, Sherman."
I could hear slow, deliberate footsteps crossing the stall, and a faint squelching sound between them. When at last the stall door unlatched and opened slowly, I looked down into my bunny's terrified eyes and trembling ears. His legs were bare, and around his waist was a thick, heavy, sagging, loaded diaper, still locked on with his plastic underwear. The faint, but unmistakable scent left me certain he was about as messy as he could get.
"I'm so sorry, my Pet. I never wanted this to make trouble for you, professionally." I slid inside the stall, locking the door behind me: "But I'm here now, and I'll get you presentable again, and then we'll work out what to do for the rest of the week."
"Yes, Master." I couldn't tell whether he was more angry, embarrassed, or relieved.
"How long have you been in here?" I asked as I smoothed the worried look from the fur of his face.
"About half an hour. I was alright for the first half of the day, but after lunch, I, well I had to go . . . both ways, and, I'd never felt it so full before, and then I felt this warm trickle in the fur down my leg, and I ran in here, and . . ."
He was trembling again. Clearly the incident had left him embarrassed and afraid. I knelt to embrace him, putting his chin on my shoulder, stroking his back.
"Everything will be ok. First thing's first. There's a changing table in here; let's get you on it."
It was one of those fold-out tables meant for infants. I pulled it from the wall, and pushed on it with one strong arm, testing how it dealt with the weight.
"I don't think I'll fit," he whimpered.
"You'll have to keep your knees bent, and your head against this," I motioned to one of the cables extending from the wall, holding the table from swinging more than ninety degrees out, "but we'll manage it, unless you'd rather be changed on the floor." I was guessing that since he'd hidden his feet from view when I entered, probably standing on the toilet, he was afraid someone would see him under the stall dividers.
"Yes, Master." He resigned himself to his fate, and I lifted him onto the table.
It wasn't simple or quick, and it smelled horrible, but I got him cleaned up, applied rash cream (just in case) and powder, wrapped him up in a fresh, thick diaper, and restored his locking underwear. Used wipes and his messy diaper were sealed up in two layers of trash bags, and his wet slacks in another. I helped him into a fresh pair of slacks from the backpack. Only once did someone else enter the bathroom. We froze, hoping to wait in silence until he was gone. Gently, I pet the fur between my bunny's trembling ears while we waited, keeping my gaze over him confident while his eyes pleaded worriedly into mine. Maybe it was the smell, but whoever it was turned around and left. Sherman flushed bright pink, but there's no way whoever it was could have seen him.
"Now, you've only missed about forty-five minutes. You'll be fine."
He whimpered as I smoothed his fur and adjusted his shirt.
"Did you have any trouble getting in?"
"Nope, the woman at the front desk recognized me, and let me up to see you. No one else gave me a second look."
"I'm sorry I had to call you here." He lowered his gaze.
"You did the right thing, Pet. You can always call on me for anything you need, and I will always come for you. This is my responsibility." I motioned to the trash bags.
He nodded, considering what I'd said.
"Thank you, Master," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me, and pressing his muzzle into my shirt.
I stroked his back, slowly, hoping to get him back to his work mindset as soon as possible.
"Now, tomorrow there are three things we can try. We can double-up your diapers, we can set a time to meet and get you changed, or we can try and change your eating and drinking schedule and hope to get through the day in one diaper."
"C-could we have lunch together? And then you could change me?" His voice was so meek, worried.
"I'd love to, my Pet. Would you like to come home at noon? We'd have to eat quickly, with the commute, but-"
"But I'll have you." He squeezed his grip around me, just for a moment, suddenly feeling much safer about the rest of his punishment.
"Now go on, you've got half a work day ahead of you."
"Thank you, Master," he whispered, pulling my muzzle down to his for a quick kiss before he left the stall, just as someone else entered the bathroom.
I waited, motionless, as my bunny washed his paws and left, and the stranger went about his business, before I was alone. I packed up my backpack, with Sherman's wet slacks, and buried the bag of trash beneath the paper towels in the trash can. It took me another twenty minutes to get back to work, but I didn't mind. Taking care of my Pet was more important.