Dear Auntie Helga,

I wrote you a letter some time ago, telling you about the problems I got entangled in, when my supervisor took measures to prevent me from leaving my desk. (see PDQ March 2016) She forced me to wear a diaper, covered with rubber Fetware panties and a skirt with business style pumps and a Wolford pantyhose. She made me pay for these items, as for the diapers. Every week I had to reimburse her in cash € 60: € 40 for the diapers and € 20 for the (interest free) debt (sic) of around € 950 for the items she bought on my behalf. I managed to raise the money every week, though, and this reduced my debt little by little, and also caused a certain easing of my working circumstances. Still wearing a diaper and the rubber panty, I was allowed to leave the skirt apart and wear normal men's trousers. I also was allowed (after asking permission) to use the toilet, be it only once a shift. I could cope with that.

One Thursday my boss asked me in her office, and to my surprise she invited me for a dinner at hers next Saturday evening. I could not but consent. "Oh, you'll love it and never forget the event, she said", and by now I know how right she was... She added: don't forget to wear your diaper and stuff, and be there at 7.30 p.m.

That Saturday night I went to my supervisor's apartment, dressed as instructed in diaper and rubber panties, covered with a normal men's outfit. I rang the doorbell, and a buzzer opened the door. On entering the vestibule I heard an animated laughter of several ladies' voices, making me freeze. I did not dare to proceed, but soon my supervisor opened the door to her living room and invited me in. Two other women were around the table, and they apparently enjoyed a tasty meal: chicken, beef, rice, mashed potatoes, and diverse vegetables were on the table, in combination with both white and red wine. "This is the employee I told you about, you know, the art historian that still can't find a decent job, the one that left his desk for futile reasons and whom I made a bit more compliant thanks to my special treatment of his... in cooperation with my staff", she opened the conversation, making me blush like a beet. "Is he wearing his rubber panties right now?", one of the lady guests asked, sipping her wine... "Yes, I have instructed him to do so", my boss said, "we'll check this later. Bit first I'll explain why he is here: most of his debt has been paid for by now, and as he has still little money, and this deserves a little encouraging reward, don't you think so? So, I have invited him for our tonight's intimate dinner session . My suggestion is that you spare for him something of our copious meal, and leave it for him to join us with the dinner. After that we can ask him how he has enjoyed the meal... "

The other two women agreed immediately, and my boss told me to undress (trousers, shirt, except the rubber covered diaper) and kneel beside of her and her friends. One of the ladies seemed to be interested in my case, and made me beg for a piece of chicken. "Don't use your voice", she said, "just focus on me, and my dish. You'll find out soon if I have something for you... " And rather quickly she handed me a piece of chicken meat, that I grabbed from her and ate directly, as I had grown quite hungry. "NO", she said, "don't use your hands either, just take it gently out of my hand" To my astonishment I found myself soon afterwards eating out the hands of the three women alike; chicken, slices of beef, rice, potatoes, pieces of broccoli and beans. The ladies had a good time as well. "Do you like some mustard with it?, you should try some mashed potatoes with mustard", she flattered, and suddenly stuffed my mouth with a big spoonful of mustard. "Or, what about some ketchup?, and again she poured a spoonful in my mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes, and the other two ladies burst out laughing, encouraging her friend with suggestions to add pepper, or olive oil and of course finishing it off with three spoonfuls of hot soy-sauce. I had to swallow it all and I was knocked off my feet, and grasped for air. "Stay where you are, and be quiet, while we finish our desserts " my boss said. I stayed on my knees, hoping for a soon ending of the torment, and indeed, after about half an hour my boss handed me a napkin to wipe my face .

"I think he has enjoyed his meal, and we have made it for him something unforgettable, I am sure if this", my boss said, "I'll ask him Monday morning anyway. Now our guest should leave, as we take another finishing glass of this or that" "Oh, what a pitty", one of her friends interrupted, I just got an idea. Listen: "He is an art historian, isn't he, and he is short of money as you told us. Why don't we let him guide us to our Rijks Museum in Amsterdam, and have him explain to us what the special items are. I am willing to pay him € 3,50 per hour, under the condition that he'll wear his special diaper/rubber panties attire, combined with a bra and his Wolford pantyhose and penny-loafers. Of course he can cover himself with some men's trousers and shirt. It is just for our pleasure, this special trip... " Her two friends agreed, and my boss promised to hand me a padded bra the day just before leaving for Amsterdam. The event was agreed and set for two months after this remarkable dinner session.

Instead of one bossy supervisor, I from now on had to deal with three, and each of them seemed to be very motivated to use me as their personal object of derision and humiliation.So, I was not better off by now. After all this I made it home, took a shower and stayed in my humble apartment during the weekend. May be I'll write to you later and tell you about the Amsterdam excursion with my very special company...

Leo (Netherlands)

Thank you for your letter Leo and for updating us about your life and the amazing women you have the honor of serving. Their insistence of your infantile attire as well as their motivation to use you is an opportunity many of my readers would love to experience, please do write again.

Auntie Helga

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Letter 5