June Exclusive - "Button" - Part 2

Andrew looks at Millie with wide eyes and realizes that he doesn’t understand any of this. The calm from before has been replaced by something more tiring. He could curl up into a ball and hibernate. He could do with a nice, long nap.

Millie smiles. She puts her hands to his face, stroking his skin with gentle fingers. “Aw, look at you. There you go, sleepy head.” She winks at him and then says conversationally, “Sometimes it takes a while, I’m left twiddling my thumbs, and sometimes it’s quicker than ramen noodles.” She goes back to her chair and picks up the Sweeties box, putting it on the desk. “Susan, the girl you saw me with earlier? Took about thirty seconds after her shot before she had that idiotic smile on her face, and I knew she was done. Barely even needed her special panties, but I let her wear them anyway.” Millie gives Andrew a conspiratorial grin. “I’m not a monster.”

She pulls the lid off the box and takes out a folded, light blue outfit. “Took longer with you, Andrew, which is why we’ve been able to have our nice little chat.”

“Huh?” Andrew says. His eyelids are heavy, they are like steel shutters. Because shouldn’t he just sit back down, shouldn’t he lie down on the comfy carpet and have a nap?

“It’s taking longer with you,” Millie says again, and she slows her words down, takes on a sing-song style. Even her face becomes more animated, widening her eyes and nodding gently, and Andrew finds himself paying rapt attention. “Because I didn’t stick you, did I.” She winks. “Which reminds me, let’s get those sticky fingers all nice and clean.” She takes a cloth from her apron and proceeds to wipe Andrew’s hands.

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even think of it.

“I don’t see a wedding ring,” Millie says musingly. “Got a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Girl….girlfriend,” replies Andrew, stumbling over both the facts and the language. Dawn “She’s my…girlfriend.” Girlfriend? The idea is strange and slippery in his mind.

Millie continues to clean Andrew’s hands, wiping the palms and making the man smile at the ticklish sensation. She says, “Well, now she’s your mommy. And she’s gonna love you in your outfit.” She nods. “As soon as I realized you’d spotted me, I just had to find you something fun to wear. But something traditional, you know? Classy.”

“Cah….classy?”

“That’s right, honey.” She unbuttons Andrew’s shirt, removes it, and then pulls down his khaki pants. “You’re going to be cute as a button, I promise.” She pulls off his shoes and socks and then puts his clothes in a pile by the desk. “You’ll walk out of here and the whole Sweeties team are going to be smiling at how cute you look.”

“Huh?” Andrew says stupidly. He looks down at himself. How has he ended up in just his boxer shorts? It doesn’t occur to Andrew to fight the invasion of privacy until Millie has already finished the job. He looks down at his damp, shiny hands, turning them over as if searching for evidence. As if trying to grasp the narrative. But his brain won’t join the dots. His brain is as thick and sticky as oatmeal.

“What did…what happened…” His tongue is as heavy as his mind. Wha…happen?

“The sticky stuff isn’t as fast as the shot, but I can tell from the look on your face, you’re gonna be seeing those rainbows and unicorns very soon. You’re a little old to be APP positive, but no one’s going to argue with your symptoms.” She giggles. “Especially not when they see you all dressed up!”

“Stih…stihhhh…” His expression grows fierce for a moment, as he tries again to understand what’s being done to him. Sticky. He looks over his computer and points, feeling an increasingly rare moment of intelligence. “Mouse is sticky,” he says slowly, taking care to enunciate. So that he will be understood. So that the conversation isn’t a one-way flood.

“Mouse issticky,” says Millie, “clever boy!” She beams at him. “We’d better fix that.” She pats Andrew lightly on the head. “What a good helper you are!”

Andrew nods in response, feeling reassurance at the praise. In factual fact, he feels more than reassured. A smile tugs at his lips, and he starts to feel pleasantly warm between his legs.

Millie looks down meaningfully at Andrew’s crotch, and then she says softly, “I think a certain someone is getting a little excited.”

Andrew follows the woman’s gaze and blinks in muddle surprise at his erection. Where did that come from? Was it the sticky mouse? Was it Millie telling him that he’s a good helper? Cause and effect are a blurred mess in his head.

He watches as Millie wipes down the computer equipment, and in this moment of relative peace and quiet, he tries to take some kind of stock. He is standing in his office, naked except for his underwear. A nearly naked man with an erection. His work clothes are in a heap on the floor, and there are new clothes neatly folded on his desk.

What next? He remembers the shiny, red button. Should he press it? Is he allowed? Millie stands between him and the target. What did she say? He could press the button if he’s a good boy.

But what is it for, anyway?

Emergencies.

Andrew frowns. Does this count? He doesn’t feel bad, just a little confused. If anything, he feels good, with the growing erection to prove it. And if it really is an emergency, he should get dressed, right?  He should get all dressed up. Because he doesn’t want everyone to see him nearly naked. Only little babies are allowed to be naked, otherwise it’s naughty.

Andrew isn’t a naughty boy, he’s sure of it. He’s good, he’s a helper, just like Millie said. He smiles at remembering. Millie told him so. She patted his head. Andrew’s a good boy, he’s…he rubs at his eyes. It’s funny, to be feel so sleepy and yet so stimulated at the same time. He looks down and remembers the erection tenting his underwear.

Back in front of him, Millie says, “What’s going on down there?” she asks brightly. “Mind if I take a look?”

Andrew opens his mouth to refuse, because that’s private, that’s not allowed, but no words come out, and he doesn’t stop Millie pulling at the elastic waistband and letting his boxer shorts fall to his ankles.

“Goodness,” Millie says warmly, “Look how excited you are. You must really like being a good boy for me. I bet you like being a good boy for Mommy as well, right?”

“Uhhh..uh-huh,” says Andrew, barely listening as he looks down at his crotch. His penis stands to attention.

“I bet,” says Millie. And then she strokes the length of Andrew’s penis with her fingertips. “I bet that feels nice, huh?”

Andrew feels his heartrate increase. “Yeah,” he whispers. This shouldn’t be happening, but it is.

“Some people get excited when they have the virus, some people don’t. It doesn’t make a difference in the end, but I’m glad you’re having a nice time. Makes it easier for me. Because you’re going to let me dress you up, aren’t you, honey. Cute as a button.” Millie curls her fingers around the erection and gently pulls up and down. Teasingly. Knowingly. “’Cause you got such a happy thingy.”

“Uh-huh,” Andrew says again, more urgently now. He keeps staring, mesmerized by the sensation.

Millie hums a melody as she strokes him, and then says in a sing-song voice, “Gonna dress you up and make you cute as a button for Mommy.”

Mommy? Dawn. What is he doing? What is he letting this woman do to him?

Andrew flaps at Millie’s hand, backs away. “No!”

“No?” Millie asks lightly “Don’t wanna be cute as a button?”

He takes a deep breath, inhales and exhales. He remembers what he knows about the virus. That some victims can experience sexual euphoria, even as their minds reduce and simplify. He’s read the Internet rumors of what some Center staff do to encourage people’s mental descent.

Andrew takes another a deep breath, his hands fluttering in front of his crotch, scared of touching it in case he ends up finishing the job himself. Because he doeswant to be cute as a button. But he doesn’t want the rest. He doesn’t want to be reduced to mental toddlerhood.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Millie asks. She steps towards him with open hands, ready to caress, ready to take complete control. “Let me make it all better, sweetheart.”

Andrew shakes his head violently. “Don’t touch,” he says. “Don’t want it.” Doan wannit. Despite his aching penis, fervently disagreeing with Andrew’s words.

Millie smiles. “I know you think you don’t want to be silly and little” She gives him a sympathetic nod. “But inside your head, it’s happening, and there’s no stopping it. Which is why I need to dress you up like a good boy for your mommy.” She looks at him and makes a clucking sound. “But how are we going to dress you up, with your thingy all sticky out like that?” She pulls out a pair of thick, white underwear from underneath the blue outfit. She holds up the chunky briefs. “They won’t fit!” she says brightly. She giggles. “Because your thingy’s being all silly.” She winks at him. “Let me help you feel better, honey, so your thingy can go take a nap and then we can get you all dressed up for Mommy.”

Andrew stamps his bare feet on the carpet, left and right, his erection waggling. “Not silly! Not mommy!” He juts out his bottom lip. “Giwlfwen.” He thinks of Dawn; she only likes big boys, not silly babies, she said so herself.

I’m not interested in being a mom. It’s just not something I feel.

He looks frantically around the room – his office – for something his mind can hold onto. He points at the computer. “Don’t get sick from mouse,” he blurts. Doan geh sih fom mouff. Because people don’t. APP isn’t transmitted by sticky, silly computer mice. “I’m not…I don’t…” He trails off, desperate for the words, the intelligence, to make his case.

But the only things in his head are the tingles and the sense of emptiness. And a growing conviction that he should do as he’s told. He should let Millie take charge. Because ignorance is bliss. Because letting go would be such a relief.

A smile curls his lips, and then he thinks of losing. Of giving in, and then being paraded through the store. Will the team think Andrew caught the virus, that he’s just one more victim? Or will they think he came to work here on purpose, because he wanted to catch it. Because he wants to be a dumb, babbling toddler?

The idea is awful. And the thought of Dawn seeing him as a drooling, babbling, mess? Unbearable.

Andrew stamps his foot again and whines, “Don’t want to be baby!” Doan wanna bay-bee!

Millie puts a warning finger to her lips – Hush – and then and folds her arms. “Andrew,” she begins with a firm, no-nonsense tone, “We all have a mission here, right?”

Andrew furrows his brow, trying to remember the mission. What is Sweeties for? What is Andrew for? The answers are lost in his tingling, blurred brain, but at least it takes his mind off what’s between his legs.

“We’re all hoping for a cure,” says Millie slowly, as if she’s explaining something to the slowest of children. “Or at least a vaccine. In the meantime, we all must do our bit for our customers. To make them comfortable. To make them happy.”

Andrew nods, grateful for the explanation.

“Well, then,” Millie says. “That means I have to dress you up.” She holds out the white briefs “You could even just wear the undies if you like. Just these. And then you can put your boring work clothes back on, if you really want to.” She shows the back and front of the briefs. “They don’t look babyish to me.”

Andrew nods. There’s no design on the thick underwear. Just white, and chunky, and…

Like training pants. They’re something for little boys, aren’t they? For people so silly that they go tinkle in their pants. He twists his lips. “I’m notta a customer.”

Millie sighs. “Yeah? You’re sure acting like one.”

Andrew shakes his head violently. This time he pleads, “Don’t want baby clothes.” He makes a whining sound at the back of his throat, thinking of the fuzzy yellow onesie. Dawn wouldn’t want him. She would turn up her nose, or maybe laugh at him, the silly baby. “Please. Don’t want choo-choos.”

Millie stares at him and then nods. “No choo-choos. Got it.” She smiles. “Now, some of our customers are all confused when they come in, aren’t they. They need extra help getting all silly and happy.” She nods encouragingly, and so Andrew nods as well.

“And I’ve got a job here at Sweeties, haven’t I.”

Andrew nods again.

“What’s my job, honey?”

Andrew’s erection deflates as he concentrates on the questions. “You’re s’posed to help ‘em. Get ‘em…”

“What? What am I supposed to do, Andrew?”

Andrew feels his face redden. “Make ‘em happy. And…silly. For mommy and daddy.”

“That’s right,” Millie says, sounding as though Andrew has just solved the most challenging of puzzles. “You’re so clever. And how do I help them do that?” Her expression turns uncertain, as if she can’t quite remember. She asks slowly, “What’s the thing that always makes them feel better?”

Andrew blurts, “Dress ‘em!” His blush fades as his sense of embarrassment evaporates. He’s so clever for knowing all the answers. “Dress ‘em up!”

“Right,” says Millie. “You got it exactly right.” She smiles at him. “So, can I do my job, please? Can I dress you up so everyone knows everyone knows that I’m a good assistant?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. As if she’s asking his permission. As if he has any authority left.

Andrew nods.

Millie beams at him. “Thank you, honey.” She picks up the underwear. “Aw,” she says, “your thingy got all sleepy.” She points between Andrew’s legs, but Andrew isn’t embarrassed. If anything, he’s relieved. Good boys probably shouldn’t have big, stiff thingies. And of course, good boys shouldn’t be naked, only silly babies. 

Andrew lifts each of his feet on request for Millie to pull the underwear up his leg. He looks down and gets a fleeting image of the inside of the underwear. A barest glimpse of the sparkles. They’re not plain after all, but Andrew isn’t concerned. They’re white enough on the outside. No choo-choos .

“Mmm,” Millie says. She pats Andrew’s covered crotch gently. “That’s you done, honey.” She grins. “I got you now.”

To be continued...