After she came home from work that evening, Brenda entered the bathroom and took a cold shower. She entered her lavender-tinged bedroom, wearing a white cotton robe, her black hair wet and glistening under the dull purple light. She’d left her phone on the nightstand, and four new text notifications from her boss, Brad, were displayed on the top right of the screen.
[10:42 PM] Brad81: I left my laptop at the office. ****
[10:45 PM] Brad81: You’re going to have to sort those files yourself #smilyface#
[10:51 PM] Brad81: B? Answer the phone.
[11:10 PM] Brad81: ****, sorry to lay it on you like that. I know you’ve been putting in extra shifts for that promotion. How about we talk about it next week, yeah? Call me.
Brenda cussed under her breath. As if doing her work nine to nine wasn’t bad enough, now he would make her clear up his mess?
“Ass…” she cussed again.
Utterly exasperated, she walked into the living room, seeking the beige-colored tote bag that housed her work computer. It was on top of the round coffee table, where she’d left it earlier. However, after undoing the zipper, Brenda promptly found that the laptop inside did not belong to her. It was a black Apple MacBook Air, whereas hers was a darker blue.
Puzzled, she sat on the long couch, preceding events that had led up to this point playing in her mind’s eye like some soundless film. She’d been in Brad’s office that evening after he’d called for her, she recollected, and she’d brought her MacBook along and set it down on his desk. Could she have mistaken his computer for hers when she was getting up to leave? It was possible, she supposed. But it didn’t matter now. She couldn’t sort the files like Brad had asked her to because her computer—the one Brad had forgotten at the office—was still on his desk.
Brenda opened the black Apple MacBook Air before her and pushed the power button. While the computer booted up, she stood and made for the half-empty bottle of Pinot Noir atop the kitchen counter and the wine flute beside it. When she returned to the couch, a high-definition picture of Brad’s pet Labrador was displayed statically on the computer monitor, a password prompt flashing near the top right corner.
Brenda stared mischievously at the dog’s pixelated, beady eyes. She smiled, recalling how Brad always seemed poised to talk to anyone at the office about the most adorable little pup he’d found abandoned on his front porch a while back.
‘What did he say her name was again?’ Brenda mused briefly before typing: ‘MABEL81’ on the black ergonomic keyboard—81 being the year Brad was born, the same number he used at the end of all his social media handles. Promptly, the MacBook made a soft chiming sound, signaling Brenda’s uninterrupted access to Brad’s computer software.
First, she poured a small amount of wine into the flute, drank, and set the glass back down on the table. Then she returned to the MacBook, navigating the onscreen cursor to the ‘private folder’ application Brad had left running in the background. What she found there nearly made her choke on the wine as it went down her throat. There were hundreds of shameless pictures showing young men wearing diapers! Not just diapers, either; there were onesies, plain ones, and ones with skirts and glitter. Some wore dresses, usually fluffy and short enough to enhance the diaper instead of hiding it.
It was enough to make Brenda laugh after fully comprehending what she was looking at. And then, as she scrolled further, more than a few pictures, in particular, caught her eye. It was Brad, her boss, and it couldn’t have been anyone else. He was in the pics wearing diapers, dresses, onesies, and even some with him wearing some pretty panties!
Brenda laughed some more. She found her phone beside her on the couch, connected the small device to the MacBook, and downloaded the image into her private folder. She felt that getting her raise wouldn’t be a problem after all! Click right here to find out what kinky fun I had!
Auntie Brenda
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