30 replies to this topic

[Sophie ♥]

Note:
This story is very sexual and very aggressive. And if that's not your thing then I recommend you not read it.

Note:
I am re-posting this as a new topic now that it's finished. I did it with Abby and the completed parts of Bits of Molly and I've had many people thank me for it since the whole story is right there and there's no searching for new additions. So if you have a problem with that, I'm sorry.

Note:
There are also minor changes to certain words, sentences, and add-ons in this version than the other thread. But if you've read the other posts, don't waste your time re-reading. The edits are very minuscule and only help the story flow better. Valuable information is not added.

--------

A Week Less Ordinary
by Baby Sophie

For Erica, who helped inspire the earlier chapters.

& Thank you members of DailyDiapers for all your kind words that motivate me to complete this story.

[Sophie ♥]

*1* Sunday

I woke up late, as any high school senior should on a Sunday. My finals were over and my homework was done. I had only a week left of classes until I graduated on Saturday, and I didn’t foresee much of anything happening.

It was only noon, so I had quite some time before the Honor Society ceremony later that evening. I’d been part of the National Honor Society for all four years of my high school career, and having them on my transcript would help me get into Princeton in the fall.

Getting out of bed, I grabbed a towel off my dresser and went to the bathroom. My hair was a mess, but nothing a shower and my hairbrush couldn’t fix. So I took off my pajamas and turned on the showerhead.

Under the warm water I daydreamed of what my future held: a green campus and excellent classes and my own place and an expensive degree and a wonderful job and a loving and supportive family for my kids, just like the one I have now. And I thought of all the times I had studied instead of going shopping and affirmed that all the hard work was well worth it.

I dried off against a pale blue towel and brushed my teeth, then made my way back to my room and slipped on one of my more alluring white blouses and the plaid skirt required by my school dress code. Since the Honor Society is a scholarly program, I’m required to wear my uniform to the ceremony.

Afterward, I tied the purple and black striped tie around my neck, tucked it beneath the collar, and took a seat in front of the vanity mirror in my bedroom. Makeup came first since the dampness of my hair kept it out of the way. I only put on a bit of mascara, cover up, and blush to really bring out the schoolgirl look, and then I plugged in my blow dryer. In no time I was ready to go, my straight, dark blonde hair falling loosely over my shoulders.

I made my way downstairs, greeted both my parents at the kitchen table, and sat down for lunch. They made me pancakes and had a glass of chocolate milk ready for me. They must have heard the shower turn on, and from that, estimated my time of arrival.

“Today’s the big day, Brooke!” my mom said excitedly.

“Technically, graduation will be the big day,” I grinned back at her.

“The acceptance letter was the big day,” my father responded. My parents wanted me to go to Princeton even more than I did. They both graduated from there, and it played out very well for them. We lived in a big house and money was never tight. I got a lot of the things I wanted, but that was probably due to me being an only child. I suppose I was a little bit spoiled.

I ate happily and I talked with my parents about all the joys of Princeton. That’s all our conversations were about anymore. I loved to hear their stories and they loved to tell them. I was eagerly anticipating creating stories of my own.

We left for the ceremony around four, and I was one of the first on stage. I was doing a speech, even though I had the second highest grade point. I don’t know if that’s because the other boy passed up the option or because I was more appealing.

I am not conceited or anything, but it’d be a lie to say I was unattractive. I was about 5’7, which seemed about the average height for a girl at my school, and a little over 140 pounds, which was perhaps the average weight if you exclude the really big girls. I don’t have a very small waistline, but I don’t have a very small chest either. To summarize, I’m pretty average.

The ceremony was long. My speech was shorter than most I’ve made. I was really lacking motivation to write a hard-hitting extended speech. Everyone had been there a long time already and they were restless to begin their summer. Actually, I used a paraphrase of that line in my speech. Anyway, after a near four hour ceremony, it was all over.

I drove home with my parents. They were very talkative and proud and excited. I was mostly quiet. I felt lightheaded from all the excitement and really wanted to just crawl into bed. And when I got home, that’s what I did.

[Sophie ♥]

*2* Monday

School, as anticipated, was extremely pleasant. It was the last week of high school, finals were over, and grades were already marked for most classes even though they weren’t due until Friday evening. I suppose the teachers, like the students, wanted to finish all their work early.

I ate lunch with a few friends I’d likely never see again after the week was over. We all made plans to go shopping after school, and for once I complied. It was exciting to not have to worry about homework.

My classmates opted for us to play elementary school games during fifth hour, and we chose Seven Up. In short, it’s a game where someone taps your head and you have to guess who it was of seven people. If you get it right, you get to be a tapper. If you get it wrong, you close your eyes and put your head down again and wait for the next time someone taps you. I wasn’t very good at it, and I never got the chance to be a tapper.

English, my last class of the day, was just as simple. My teacher, Miss Ellis, put Dead Poet Society on the projector and turned off half the lights, leaving the other half on for people who would prefer to socialize quietly. But I chose to watch the film. It was one of my favorite classroom movies.

When the final bell rang, everyone sprang for the door. I stood up, grabbed my book bag, and followed the crowd.

“Miss Watson,” Miss Ellis called from her desk. I told my friends I’d catch up later, the door closing behind them with a metallic click.

She shuffled through a few pages on her desk, taking her time. Miss Ellis was only twenty-three, which was significantly younger than a majority of the teachers at my prep school and only five years older than me. She was only a few inches taller, but her waist was thinner and her chest was larger than mine, and she seemed to flaunt those facts with her outfits. Unlike the students, the teachers had no specific uniform but they always dressed nicely.

“We seem to have a problem,” she said with a sigh. “The grade on your final exam was far from satisfactory.”

I stood there quietly for a moment. It must have been a joke.

“Despite your performance in the class,” she continued without eye contact, still examining the papers, “I’ll have to fail you. The final is worth half your overall grade.”

I shook my head. “I think you made a mistake.”

She looked up and her eyes connected with mine. “Are you questioning my abilities as a teacher?”

I shook my head again. “No, that’s not what I meant. But I studied. And the test wasn’t even that difficult. I certainly couldn’t have –”

“But you did,” Miss Ellis retorted, cutting me off. “I don’t want to fail you, Brooke. But you didn’t even come close to passing the exam. I can’t let that slide.”

“If I could have a makeup,” I tried.

“There are no makeup exams in my class, Brooke,” she responded with finality.

“But I can’t fail!” I screamed. She looked at me strangely and I hung my head. Water was building in my tear ducts. “How am I supposed to get into Princeton?”

“You certainly couldn’t get into that college with a failing mark.” Her words burned me, and I began to weep, tears forming little rivers down my cheeks. All my hard work was for nothing. All the shopping trips I passed up were wasted. All my time and effort was futile, all because of one stupid exam.

It was a minute before Miss Ellis responded. “But perhaps we could strike a deal.”

I lifted my head, wiped away my tears, and looked her in the eyes. “I’ll do anything,” I responded eagerly. “I’ll do any extra credit you have and I’ll get it all done this week and I’ll take on community work and additional activities and volunteer.” She put a finger to my lips to shush me. It was an awkward gesture from a teacher.

“If you want an A in the class, kiss me.” Her voice was solid and certain.

“But Miss Ellis-” I began my protest.

“Kiss me or fail the class,” she said, summarizing her statement.

I swallowed hard, my cheeks feeling hot. I hadn’t ever kissed a woman and I never thought I would. My stomach was turning from all the emotions, from misery to confusion to embarrassment. And I contemplated running from that classroom right then, but I knew that’d mean running from Princeton and from my parents and from my future. So instead, I bit my lip as I took an unsteady step toward her.

She stood up from her chair and took a few steps toward me, stopping near the front of her desk. I hesitated again before closing the distance between us with another step. Leaning in very slowly, I lightly pressed my lips to the small grin on her smooth face and retreated immediately.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she said with a stifled laugh. She put her hands on her desk and leaned backward against it for additional support, like me kissing her would knock her down.

I shook my head slowly and her grin vanished. “Alright,” she said with a sigh. “I tried to help you.”

“No,” I spoke quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll cooperate.”

She motioned with a waving hand for me to continue. After taking a deep breath and an additional step for solidity, I reluctantly pressed my lips to hers, slightly parted. Her hands were up in a flash, tangled in my hair and pulling me toward her face, her tongue flickering inside my mouth. I gasped for air as our lips crashed hard on each other.

She kept her hands in my hair for a few minutes, ensuring I couldn’t evade her lips while I got used to the act of kissing my teacher. Then she lowered them from my head and to my shoulders. But Miss Ellis continued to kiss me so I continued to kiss her back. It wasn’t unpleasant, only very awkward.

Kissing her was a much different experience than kissing a high school boy. Firstly, she was very confident in her motions and was very in control. When boys had kissed me, they were either too uncertain or full of passion for me to be properly kissed. Miss Ellis properly kissed.

I let her continue to slipping her tongue into my mouth and I tried to mimic her. I felt incredibly inadequate in comparison. My hands were still at my side, a mistake I took initiative to correct by putting them on her hips lightly. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t enjoying myself, but I wasn’t at ease making out with my teacher.

Her hands slipped from my shoulder down the front of my blouse and tugged at the tie, slipping it out of its knot and onto the ground in one motion. I wondered how much practice that took. Then her hands moved to my neckline and she unbuttoned the top button of my blouse.

I moved my hands from her hips to her shoulders and pushed her off me, which was more so pushing me backward since she had the desk for support. I certainly wasn’t prepared for her to undress me. I shook my head at her.

“And here I thought you actually wanted to go to Princeton,” she said in her concrete tone.

I hung my head and stepped back up to her, not giving it a second thought.

“That’s a good girl,” she cooed to me as she continued to unbutton my blouse. “Making the right choices is a good quality for a young lady.”

And I began to wonder if this was the right choice. It certainly wasn’t right for me to allow a teacher to take advantage of a student, and it certainly wasn’t right for her to undress or bribe me. But it wasn’t right to fail English and lose my entire future over a woman unbuttoning my blouse. I knew my parents wouldn’t be proud of me for this, but I knew they wouldn’t be proud of me if I failed Miss Ellis’ class either. At least this way they didn’t need to know, so I stood cooperatively as Miss Ellis dropped my blouse to the classroom floor.

“Very nice,” she said to me, caressing the outside of my bra and squeezing my chest with her fingers. I whimpered quietly.

She let go of my boobs, much to my relief, and turned to face her desk. She pulled her shirt off over her head, revealing her black lace bra miraculously supporting her extremely large chest. Then she sat on her desk and scooted backward until she was situated comfortably and hiked her skirt up to her waist, showing a pair of matching black panties.

“Touch me,” she ordered. It was a command I knew rather well from a few past boyfriends, and I shook my head immediately, taking a half step backward. “Do I have to remind you what is at stake?” she questioned.

I took another deep breath and pushed forward until my body was between her legs, her lips only an inch or two higher than mine. She kissed me lightly at first and I kissed back, resting both my palms on her bare thighs. She slowly grew more aggressive with her kisses and, when she saw my hand didn’t move, she reached around and pinched my ass through the plaid skirt. I whimpered and slid my right hand away from my body, rested it on the front of her panties, and rubbed softly in whatever direction my awkward position would allow.

She moaned. “Harder.” It was an order, and I complied, applying more force to her panties. She moaned louder and her right hand found its way to my left thigh, just below my hemline. After a few moments of small gasps behind our kisses, she slid her hand up my skirt. Immediately finding the spot on the front of my panties that takes me minutes to locate in my bed, she began rubbing in small circles.

I let out an exhausted gasp and my fingers stopped moving between her legs. I shuddered with pleasure and gripped her bare shoulders for support when my knees began feeling weak. We had stopped kissing by this point.

“Your panties are soaking wet, Brooke,” she whispered in my ear. I whimpered, kept a firm hold on her shoulders, and did my best to stay upright as the pleasure surged through me. She laughed lightly and tilted her head toward me, but instead of going for my lips she licked my earlobe, flickering her tongue like she’d done to the inside of my cheek.

It was very distracting, and it wasn’t until she slipped a finger inside of me that I realized she moved my panties out of the way. My balance disappeared and I fell against her, my head on her shoulder and most of my weight on hers. But she didn’t withdraw from my body, but began rapidly pounded her finger in and out.

“Do you like that?” she whispered into my ear, slipping a second finger into me. I made a small whine, but refused to acknowledge her question. I was humiliated enough and wanted to spare myself the admittance.

Her left hand lifted the skirt and slid over the seat of my panties. With a harsh grip, she squeezed my butt and dug her nails into the cotton. I whimpered loudly before she spoke. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

I trembled as her two fingers slipped in and out of me, rhythmically dancing with the rapid pounding of my heart. I nodded on her shoulder.

“I like it,” came my hushed response, my voice trembling with my body.

“Then cum for me,” she instructed, moaning into my ear.

I didn’t protest. My body was aching for release and I was so overwhelmed with pleasure that I ignored the humiliation. As I focused on the pulsating of her fingers in and out of my vagina, I gripped her shoulders with my nails. A spasm was sent through my body and I cried out in a loud moan. And after a moment of complete rigidity, I fell limply into her arms, my fingernails leaving small indentations on her shoulders. She removed her fingers from me, my panties finding their protective place across my privates. She held me until my quivering stopped and my breathing was even.

“Dress yourself,” she instructed as soon as I could get to my feet. I wobbled toward my blouse, picked it up, and buttoned it back around my body. With the orgasm over and my body satisfied, the humiliation was devastating. I felt like crying. I’d just let my teacher finger me and bring me to a climax, and I’d never felt more vulnerable in my entire life.

“Brooke,” Miss Ellis said, bringing my watery eyes to make contact with her gratified ones. “We still have an entire week before I have to turn in your grade. Tomorrow, after class, stay seated at your desk. Do you understand?”

I nodded a small, pathetic nod.

“Good girl,” she cooed and opened her classroom door. “See you tomorrow, Brooke.”

I stepped out and headed home. I skipped dinner that night and went to bed early, replayed the events in my head, and finally cried myself to sleep.

[Sophie ♥]

*3* Tuesday

The final bell rang and I waited as all the students shuffled out of Miss Ellis’ class room. My friends didn’t give a second glance at me, still positioned firmly in my chair with my head low on the desk. They were mad that I’d ditched them for shopping yesterday, but I couldn’t explain myself. I was at a loss. The final student left her room and the door clicked shut, leaving Miss Ellis grading papers at her desk and myself waiting anxiously at mine.

I knew what was in store for me today, and I felt I’d be able to cope better than I had the day before. It was tremendously embarrassing to have my teacher fondle me, but if all it took was another few orgasms to pass the class I’d happily oblige. And all in all, despite the humiliation, she did a tremendous job.

Miss Ellis stood from behind her desk, looked over at me, and smiled casually like this happened every day. All I could do was send back a pathetic blush, my lower lip between my teeth nervously. Even though I had enjoyed Monday, I wasn’t eager for this. Her dominance was frightening.

She sat on my desk, one foot on the ground and the other lifted so her skirt nearly flashed her underwear. I began to wonder how long it would be before they were exposed but shook my mind free when she started talking.

“Are you ready to earn that A?” she asked me sarcastically. She already knew the answer; she was only mocking me. Still, I nodded.

“Good,” she smiled. She didn’t waste any time getting things started. She stood up, unbuttoned her blouse, and folded it neatly on an adjacent desk. She unzipped the skirt and placed it carefully on top of the blouse, taking extra time to ensure the process was drawn out. Her intent was to add to my discomfort and it worked like a charm.

Miss Ellis repositioned herself on my desk, propping her bare ass right in the middle. She was now down to only her bra, thong, and two inch heels that hovered just above the tile floor.

“You know what to do,” she said to me, still seated. Her legs opened slightly as she said it and I did know what to do.

Slowly, shyly, and anxiously I rose from my chair and walked between her legs. Although I knew what she wanted, I hadn’t any idea how to give it to her. Yesterday we started with kissing, and today I didn’t know if kissing was still expected or mandatory or breaking the rules. What were the rules, anyway? I didn’t get a syllabus for this.

“What are you waiting for?” she probed impatiently.

“Is there, like, a policy?” I inquired nervously. “I don’t want to mess up and fail the class.” But Miss Ellis laughed openly at me, and I suddenly felt very stupid.

“I order you around and you listen,” she began. “Anything beyond my instructions is up to you.”

I nodded sheepishly. Using my right hand, I rested my thumb on the black satin thong shimmering across her crotch. It was softer than the lace panties from yesterday and I liked the texture much more. As anticipated, I found it easier to get into the swing of things the second time around.

After a moment, Miss Ellis began to breathe heavier. I kept my thumb circling across her underwear, stimulating her best I could. I felt inadequate, and I began wondering if I’d be graded on effort or performance. In hopes to distract me from my scholarly mindset, I leaned up to kiss her.

She let me, panting into my mouth. I slid my hand down her crotch, alternating from my thumb to my first two fingers, giving me much more freedom to pleasure her. She flickered her tongue against the inside of my cheek and I sighed passionately. Most of the initial awkwardness had faded. Now, as long as we were kissing, I felt it was just some woman I was with instead of my English teacher.

Her face parted from mine as she began to moan. I pressed harder against her thong, intent on satisfying her. Unlike yesterday when her panties dampened, the satin didn’t absorb the moisture and remained dry. It was harder to tell how I was doing. I only had her sounds to judge by.

Minutes passed and my hormones faded with my energy. My fingers were beginning to cramp from the awkward position and the humiliation slowly returned. Miss Ellis wasn’t just some woman anymore, and I felt like a fool for letting myself believe otherwise.

But Miss Ellis was still moaning on my desk, and I kept my fingers going until I could hardly move them anymore. She was shaking with pleasure by the time she slid off my desk, leaving a puddle of the liquid where she sat that the thong refused to absorb.

“Get on your knees, Brooke,” she ordered me in the dominant tone that shattered any fallacy I had that we were equals. I felt like crying again, and I refused to move.

“Do as you’re told,” Miss Ellis demanded, sparing me no time for recuperation. She placed her hands on my shoulders and pushed me to the ground, small tears dripping from my eyes as my bare knees banged against the tile. After taking off the satin thong and situating herself in the puddle on my desk, her ass significantly closer to the edge, she grabbed a fistful of my blonde hair and forced my head between her legs.

“Lick,” she ordered, gripping my hair tight. My tears became more prominent and my whimpering grew louder. Miss Ellis could, without a doubt, hear me crying, but she took no pity on me. “Do it or I fail you.”

I reluctantly moved my mouth closer to her body, my arms limply at my side. With a polite motion, I slowly let my tongue slide through her flesh in attempt to hit the proper spot. She moaned loudly, and when a small shudder ran through her body I made a mental note of the location and flickered my tongue like she did to the inside of my cheek.

“Put your tongue inside me, Brooke!” she screamed urgently, tugging my hair. I complied, sliding my tongue down quickly and pressing it as hard as I could into her body. Her hips pounded against my face as her body trembled and jittered on my desk and a small wave of fluid hit me in the mouth. I retracted from her body, sobbing openly, as she gasped for air on my desk. It was a few minutes of crying before she spoke to me.

“Lick it up,” Miss Ellis ordered, gesturing toward her crotch with a gyration of her hips. I shook my head, tears still flooding down my cheeks.

“Wow,” Miss Ellis said in amazement. “Not only do you choose, of your own free will, to fail my class, but to fail your parents and fuck over your future, all over eating a little cum.”

My whimpering grew louder as the tears poured harder from my eyes. Reluctantly, I stood up on my knees, positioned my hands on her thighs, and began to lick across her crotch. I shuddered at the taste as she shuddered in pleasure, and it wasn’t until I’d conducted a thorough cleaning that she pushed me away.

“I’m satisfied for today,” she announced. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stood, wobbly from all the crying, and wiped tears and cum from my face with the back of my hand. Miss Ellis began to dress, not saying another word to me until I’d gotten to the door.

“Oh, and Brooke,” she said like an afterthought. I turned and looked at her, “that package on the desk is for you. Don’t open it until you get home.”

I looked over on her desk and saw a small package wrapped in brown paper, no bigger than a stack of DVDs. I grabbed it with a trembling hand and left the classroom, beginning the short walk home.

It was the second day I’d skipped dinner and my parents began to worry. I said I was just feeling under the weather. They offered for me to stay home Wednesday, but I lied and said we were doing a really cool project in Physics. I couldn’t even imagine failing Miss Ellis’ class after all the work I’ve done, and she’d not take kindly to an absence.

I waited until the late evening to open the package and the attached envelope. Afterward I went straight to bed, cried myself to sleep for the second night in a row, and wondered how I got myself into this mess.

[Sophie ♥]

*4* Wednesday

I woke up early, my head pounding and my stomach empty. Before getting in the shower, I tiptoed downstairs for a bagel to settle my nerves. I couldn’t tell if my hands were trembling from hunger or anxiety.

My shower was far too short, and when I got to my room I opted to do my makeup and hair before getting dressed. I tried not to think about the note I hid in my desk drawer or the poorly rewrapped package on my dresser, but my bedside clock kept reminding me I’d have to get dressed soon. I detested the instructions Miss Ellis left for me in her letter, but I knew I would go through with them. Despite how embarrassing and uncomfortable the situation, I had no choice but to endure it.

“I heard Friday is all mixed up.”

I looked up from my plate of uneaten food. It was already lunch time.

“We only have to go to our first three hours: something about how shorter classes make the students more restless. And I guess restless students cause havoc.”

The seniors’ last day of school is always a half day. Usually half days consist of all six classes, each only twenty minutes long. Since there’s never enough time to do any substantial work, it’s generally a free day.

“So it’s a normal day, minus everything after third hour?” I piped up. It was the first time I’d spoken today.

Lucy, my friend who began this conversation, nodded. “So it seems.”

I smiled genuinely for the first time since Monday afternoon. If I didn’t have sixth hour on Friday, it meant my last day with Miss Ellis was tomorrow and my grade in her class was already halfway earned. I tried to focus on that thought instead of my predicament, and I even managed to choke down a few bites of my lunch.

“What are you doing after the ceremony on Saturday?” Lucy asked as we left the cafeteria. I suppose everyone was done being mad at me for ditching them Monday afternoon.

“My family is taking me to lunch,” I answered, doing my best to sport a natural walk down the hallway.

“Could you make it to Doug’s party?” Doug was Lucy’s boyfriend and a real big shot. The party would likely be a hit.

“I could ask my parents,” I mumbled, trying to figure out how to get out of this event. I don’t mind parties and all, but it’s not my scene. On top of that, Doug’s parties all have a ton of alcohol and the only thing I hate more than drinking is peer pressure.

“You’re eighteen,” Chloe chimed in from behind us. I slowed my pace so she walked next to me. I wasn’t comfortable with anyone behind me given my situation.

“There might be a dinner coupled with that lunch,” I defended. “I’ll ask tonight, I promise!”

We parted there. Chloe and Lucy had fifth hour together down a different hall. By the time I got to my seat in my Physics class I was out of breath. When sitting down I could hardly differentiate today’s ensemble from yesterdays, but it was a workout keeping my breathing even when I moved too much. Luckily, fifth hour consisted of only the second half of a not-so-scholarly film we started on Tuesday.

Although it was just down the hall, I took my time getting to Miss Ellis’ room. I may have been halfway done with the week but that meant two days still remained, and I wasn’t eager to start one of them.

The bell rang just after I took my seat. Before I had the chance to take out a notebook from my messenger bag, I noticed the light discoloration of a water ring in the middle of my desk where Miss Ellis’ body fluids had dried overnight. I felt slightly nauseated.

Miss Ellis walked in as I opened up a cheap dollar store folder over the desk, giving myself some clean writing room in case it was one of those days.

“Today we’re watching a movie,” Miss Ellis began. “We got some good speakers in here this time so hopefully the audio will be louder than it was with Dead Poet Society. They do have a slight buzz, but I’m sure you’ll all tune it out.”

She flipped all the lights off, leaving the room mostly dark aside from the bright blue screen the projector shined on.

“There will be no discussion during the film,” she continued. “If you’re not interested, pass notes or put your head down.” I’d forgotten how laid back a teacher Miss Ellis was.

The screen flickered to black and the movie began, the speakers making a light crackle before a soft but audible buzz, soon overpowered by the sounds of an introduction orchestra. I let out a small gasp and covered my mouth. Chloe, who sat to my right, gave me an odd glance and returned to the screen.

I tried to calm myself but the vibrations trickled through my body, lowly pulsating as the orchestra began. Initially, I thought the paranoia of strolling around school with a six inch dildo inside me was what Miss Ellis intended by her note, but I underestimated her. All along, she planned to pleasure me in the middle of her class.

I momentarily found myself admiring Miss Ellis’ brilliance. The dark room provided a visual curtain for any fidgeting or adverse facial expressions while the movie was an added distraction. Likewise, the soft hum of the speakers shadowed any sound of the vibrator buzzing beneath my skirt. And if her plan of subtly failed, I’d be exposed as a perverted schoolgirl. There would be no trace back to her.

The vibrations increased and I trembled in my chair. I stirred and shifted uncomfortably, my mouth agape and quietly panting for air. My admiration ended abruptly as hormones took over. I began slowly grinding my legs together; suddenly I was thankful for the one-size-too-small panties I’d slipped on this morning in attempt to hide the toy inside me.

A small piece of paper flickered into my peripherals and I whined quietly to myself. I unfolded the note, trying to make out the characters in the dim light.

‘I saw this movie’ it read.

I tugged my bag onto the folder-protected desk and withdrew a pencil, my forehead sweating from all the new places the vibrator touched while I moved about.

‘Me too’ I scrawled back, unaware of what movie was actually being shown. Then, in an attempt to dodge attention, I added ‘I am going to take a nap.’

I handed the note back to Chloe, she shrugged lightly at me, and I rested my head on my messenger bag as the vibrator kicked into its next setting. I panted heavily into the backpack, conflicted between the euphoric sensation between my legs and the fear of my classmates discovering my perverse pleasure.

It was only a moment of harsh internal debate before I slipped my bag onto my lap and pressed my forehead against the thin paper folder. Using my left arm as a shield over my waistline, I slipped my right hand below the elastic band of my skirt and slowly massaged the cotton between my legs as the vibrator pulsated inside me.

The class went by very slowly, and by the time the speakers cut short in the middle of a sentence and the vibrator shut off I was immobile. The lights flickered on, the bell rang, and I heard dozens of footsteps grow duller on the tile floor. Then there was a tap on my shoulder.

“I’ll wake her up,” I heard Miss Ellis say. I assumed the last footsteps before the metallic click of the door were Chloe’s.

“How did you enjoy the movie?” Miss Ellis teased. I tried lifting my head, but Miss Ellis tugged on my hair first. “So, how many orgasms did you have?”

I let out a low groan as my eyes adjusted and my cheeks darkened. My breathing was still very heavy.

“I asked you a question, Brooke,” Miss Ellis said sternly. “I expect an answer if you expect an adequate grade.”

“Three…” I stammered.

She let go of my hair and I slowly let my head rest down against the folder again. I heard her rustling papers on her desk as I began to generate small bits of energy.

“Come here,” she said after a few minutes.

I lifted my head and then my body, using the desk for support. My balance was off and I stumbled only a few steps toward Miss Ellis’ desk before having to stop. Thankfully, that was enough. She closed the rest of the distance between us on her own, and then hoisted me off the ground and onto her hip. I was too exhausted to be astonished.

She set me on her desk and instructed me to lie down. I obliged without hesitance; lying down was exactly what I wanted to do. I didn’t even flinch when she lifted my skirt and slipped the panties down my legs, although I let out a quiet whimper when she removed the vibrator.

“Did you have fun?” she cooed at me. I only nodded.

“Your strength will be coming back soon,” she continued in a mother-to-baby-esque tone. It confused me, but at the same time brought about new emotions of helplessness. I detested it, but there was little I could do.

“So we need to make sure you don’t get into any trouble.” I felt cold metal against my left wrist and heard metallic clinks. I opened my eyes, and tried to sit up, but my left arm remained extended. Her warm hands grabbed my right wrist and the cold metal wrapped around that one too.

“You’re tying me down?” I inquired, my feelings of helplessness ironically increasing with my strength.

“It’s just to make sure there’s no protesting,” she assured, flashing two pairs of silver handcuffs. I whined, but didn’t struggle, as she cuffed both of my ankles to her desk. Then she held up the heart printed panties in front of me that I’d worn to school.

“They are soaking wet,” Miss Ellis announced. “I can’t believe you saturated your panties so much.” I felt my cheeks darken at least three shades. “It would be irresponsible of me to send you home in wet panties, right Brooke? But I’m certainly not giving you one of my pairs! You’ll just get those all wet too.”

“I can’t walk all the way home without any underwear on,” I whined, even though I knew it wasn’t up to me.

“You’re right,” she said unexpectedly. I gave a small sigh of relief. “That’s why I’ll do you a favor this time and put a diaper on you.” She pulled out a large square of plastic and unfolded it before my eyes, flashing a white adult diaper.

“I am not wearing a diaper!” I screamed at her, tugging hard on the cuffs.

“See, this is what I meant by you getting into trouble,” she chimed in her mother-to-baby tone that suddenly had new meaning. I screamed in a new attempt at protesting only to be silenced with my soggy underwear. I gagged and tried to spit them out, but soon Miss Ellis shoved the whole pair into my mouth and placed a strip of duct tape over my lips.

“Now Brooke,” she said gleefully as she placed the diaper near my uplifted skirt, “you’re going to be a very good girl for me so you don’t get punished. Now lift your butt.”

I kept my rear firmly placed on her desk, determined this time not to give in. But all that determination shattered as a cane cracked down on my thigh. I screamed through the saturated panties and tears dribbled down the sides of my face. A sharp prick struck me in the rear shortly after and I instinctively lifted my butt. When I set it back down, the padding of the diaper was beneath it.

A heavy amount of powder was applied to my privates and my thighs as I continued to sob. I tried to wiggle in objection but each time was stilled by a sharp slap of Miss Ellis’ palm on my leg. When she was satisfied in dragging out the process, she finally pulled the diaper between my legs and taped it around my hips.

She came around to my face, and looked at me sternly. “You will walk home in that diaper or you will fail my class. I want a picture of you in your bathroom with that diaper on sent to this phone number.” She slipped a piece of paper down my blouse and into my bra.

“You are my slave and you will do as I say,” she began her speech as I sank into a new degree of humiliation with each word. “I want you to wear diapers so you understand that you are subject to my complete control. You are a helpless little girl and I am your sitter. I will embarrass you as I see fit, and if you have any objections then you can kiss Princeton goodbye as well as your reputation.”

And with that, Miss Ellis snapped a photograph on her cell phone before lowering my skirt. She removed the handcuffs from all four of my appendages and put them in her purse, then walked out of the classroom. I didn’t move from the desk for a long while, using up all the tears I had left before ripping the tape off my mouth, stuffing the underwear in my pocket, and starting the walk home.

The diaper was uncomfortably thick. Walking properly was impossible and walking at all was difficult. I waddled most of the way home, thankful I didn’t run into anyone.

I arrived home before my parents. Miss Ellis didn’t keep me as long this time. I rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom, fiddling for my phone in my purse. I lifted the skirt and snapped the picture, careful to keep most of my face out of the shot in case she saved it. I glanced at the preview of myself in the diaper, a harsh red line across the front of my thigh where the crane struck, then sent it to the number I fished out of my bra.

I paced back and forth in the bathroom, waiting. My mind was racing and I began to talk to myself out loud.

“I didn’t even consider the number she gave me. What if it’s one of my friends?”

I took a deep breath.

“No, they would have shown up in my phone after dialing. But what if it’s someone on the school paper?”

I shook my head. “There is only two days of school left, and the paper is done with. Plus I didn’t even send my face.”

My phone buzzed and I flipped it open quickly. ‘Good girl.’

I let out a small sigh of relief before hitting ‘Reply’ and typing ‘Can I take it off now?’

I went back to my room, but the response came faster. ‘Yes.’

I ripped off the diaper and threw it in the trash in my bedroom, then reached into my underwear drawer and put on a pair of panties followed by a change of clothes. I hadn’t noticed until I got home, but the seat of my skirt was damp from all the activity with the vibrator. A new wave of humiliation washed over me as I realized I walked home along a major road. I decided it was best just to wash my entire uniform along with the panties I still had in the pocket.

After starting the washing machine and greeting my parents as they arrived home, I headed to my bedroom until dinner time. All the humiliation I felt earlier was slowly converting into fury, and it wasn’t long before I was mumbling to myself again.

“I can’t believe she did that to me. I’m her little girl? She’s my sitter? Who does she think she is? I am eighteen years old! Whatever, Brooke: just deal with it. It’s just one more day, and then I’m back to my old self. No, I’m going to be even more of an adult.”

I pondered that last thought… and after dinner I called up Lucy.

[Sophie ♥]

*5* Thursday

I woke up early, tired after a restless night. Before bed my mind had wandered to what Miss Ellis could do with that picture she took of me on her desk, but I finally concluded that she wouldn’t risk her job unless I stepped out of line. Regardless, I didn’t get to sleep until early morning and most of that time was spent tossing and turning.

The perk of my early rise was my long shower, which was desperately needed. I made sure to take my time in washing my hair and lathering my skin, and by the time I shut off the valves my fingers were wrinkled.

I went back into my room and dressed myself in the standard school uniform, lowering my skirt from its usual location by my belly button to my waistline. Miss Ellis had talked about putting me in diapers to demonstrate her authority over me. I didn’t think she’d abandon such a humiliating idea so soon.

I used the makeup to cover up the signs of sleep deprivation and headed downstairs to breakfast. My parents were gone already but a plate of eggs was on the table. I was running a tad late, so I ate quickly and bolted.

“I’m so excited your parents said you could come,” Lucy chimed. It was lunch time, and I had been conversing much more today since my body was free of stimulating toys.

“They said I worked hard all year so I could have some fun. But I need to be responsible.” Lucy knew what that meant: no drinking for me. Her face soured, so I added, “But what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”

Lucy lit up with excitement. I had never drank alcohol recreationally before and Lucy knew it. I was a bit nervous, but I needed a confidence boost after Miss Ellis called me a little girl. Drinking was the perfect behavior to boast my adulthood and mark the end of my week less ordinary.

Fifth hour came and went and Miss Ellis’ class was equally uneventful sans the small announcement at the end of class.

“As some of you may have heard,” Miss Ellis spoke to the class, “there is talk of tomorrow’s half day schedule being altered.” The class leaned in and so did I.

“Although I am not sure if this is good or bad news,” she continued, “the alterations will be in effect. For tomorrow, all students will report to their first three hours as usually scheduled and the latter three classes, as well as lunch, are cancelled.”

The bell rang and the students filed out, talking about the new schedule shift and how it affects their last day of high school. Chloe gave me a second glance, but I smiled warmly and waved her on.

“I’ll catch up,” I said. My smile could have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. Chloe walked out of the classroom and the metallic lock clicked behind her.

“Today is a very short lesson,” Miss Ellis said from her desk, looking up at me. Her elbows were placed firmly on the desk and her chin rested on a finger bridge that she made between her hands.

Her statement intimidated me. She seemed overly confident in making our last day together a short one. Something was amiss.

“Since tomorrow is a half day, we will have a lot of spare time for our finale before you are expected home,” she stated plainly. My heart immediately sank. “So today we are going to prepare you.”

I wanted to argue that I didn’t need to meet her since we didn’t have class, but I knew it wasn’t specified in our agreement. The deal was to obey her for the week in order to pass the class: scheduling wasn’t a factor.

“Come over to the desk, Brooke.” She began to put her things away, leaving her work station bare. I stood reluctantly and made my way to her.

“Lay down,” she commanded. I complied without argument, accustomed now to her dominance.

“On your stomach, Brooke,” she said with aggravation when I situated myself on my back. I found myself apologizing and flipping over without giving it much thought. If this had happened Monday, I’d question her motives or at least refrain from giving an apology. I had been properly regressed to a slave, and as badly as that hurt my pride, there was nothing I could do but wait it out.

She reached under my skirt and tugged at my panties. I did a small push-up to allow her to slip them off my hips and down my legs.

“On your knees,” she ordered next. I nodded and lifted myself to my knees, but was then pushed forward till my elbows hit the desk, leaving my rear exposed to my teacher. My cheeked darkened, but I said nothing. The quieter I was, the sooner this would end.

“Now,” Miss Ellis began in her soft mother-to-baby coo, “this might hurt a little. But if I have to tie you down to this desk again, you’ll receive thirty whacks with that cane.”

I began to panic at the thought of whatever Miss Ellis was going to do hurting me, but that was quickly drowned out by the memory of just one strike of the cane from yesterday. I agreed to comply with Miss Ellis’ demands in a whimpering tone, reluctant to be whipped.

It wasn’t more than a second later when something large was thrust into my rear. I cried out in pain and buckled onto the desk, filled with surprise and dread. I writhed on the desk while the product expanded, sealing closed my anus and stretching my insides. I began to sob and started to plead for Miss Ellis to remove it, but most of the sounds came out as blubbering.

“Stay still,” she ordered me. I tried my best to stop thrashing on her desk and managed to minimize it to a slight wiggle. The object had stopped expanding, but it stayed firmly in place. I tried to expel it of my own free will, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Now roll over.”

“Miss…” I tried to begin a thought.

“Stay quiet and roll over.” Her tone was acidic, so I complied out of fear of being struck with the cane. It was very difficult to perform a simple task like rolling over with the enlarged bulb in my rear and I began to wonder if Miss Ellis had acquired a bit of patience or if she was enjoying my contorted expressions. But she let me take my time to lie on my back.

She was smiling down at me with a sickly maternal glare, like I was sincerely her helpless doll and this wasn’t just a game I was stuck playing. But all I could do was stare back up at her, my expression full of begs and pleas.

“Now I’m going to get my baby girl all ready to go home,” she cooed to me as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I knew what was coming next and I had mentally prepared myself.

“Lift your butt,” she instructed lightly. I didn’t hesitate, remembering the smack of the cane the last time I disobeyed that order.

“Good, the little girl is learning.” I rested my butt back down on the thick padding of the diaper and closed my eyes, trying to disappear. But the powder came next, and then the diaper was pulled up between my legs. I winced as each tape was fastened around my hips. I opened my eyes and want to sit up, but Miss Ellis pushed me back onto her desk.

“We’re not done yet.” With that, I felt her draw a second diaper between my legs and began taping that one on over the first. It must have already been under my butt.

“W-why?” was all I could stutter.

“It’s just some added protection so you don’t leak.”

Her words hit me hard. Although I’d worn a diaper home yesterday, and although I knew she’d put another one on me today, I never gave a thought to actually using it. I was a fully potty trained eighteen year old girl, and I refused to give Miss Ellis the satisfaction of wetting a diaper.

As she finished taping up the second diaper and began slipping on my panties, I devised a plan. Miss Ellis would send me home soon and she’d likely instruct me not to change until she said. I could lie easily enough about the state of the diapers, and if she asked for a picture I could pour some water into it. And if Miss Ellis waited all day before asking for a picture, I’d just use the bathroom like an adult and put the diapers back on myself. It was a perfect cover, and it would have gone without flaw if my thoughts weren’t interrupted by the light click of a padlock.

I sat up and quickly realized Miss Ellis hadn’t been putting my panties on me, but instead a pair of plastic underwear over the diapers. Around the top, a thin chain was hemmed into the waistband and a small lock secured the chain above my hips.

I leapt off the desk, nearly tumbling to the ground by the unexpected thickness of the diapers. Then I tugged at the plastic panties and tried to wiggle out of them. All the while, Miss Ellis watched and smiled.

“You’re going to keep those diapers on until tomorrow after school, and then I’ll unlock those underwear and change you.”

“Absolutely not!” I shouted at her. But I didn’t get another word out before her hand came across my cheek, knocking me to the floor. The motions stressed the enlarged plug in my butt and I began sobbing from the pain on my face and in my ass. Waves of helplessness washed over me and each one dragged me deeper into my hysterics.

“Any damage to those panties will result in your failing of this class.” Her voice was severe. I nodded obediently and a new wave pulled me down.

“What about my shower?” I asked, trying to conjure any excuse.

“You’ll skip it,” she replied coldly. “You’ll want to shower when you get home tomorrow anyway.”

And with that she grabbed her bag and walked out. I kept crying on the floor until my head began to pound and my eyes ran out of tears. Then I stood up on trembling legs, winced at the plug occupying my rectum, and began to waddle home.

About halfway, I stopped trying to hide my situation. I proceeded home in a full waddle, not caring who saw. It was too distressing on my legs to try to walk normally, and the babyish toddling relieved a good portion of pain from the plug.

My parents weren’t home when I arrived, so I took a few pain relievers for my headache and headed to my room. I climbed into my bed and covered up in order to save myself from any up-skirt glances from my parents. I found the most comfortable position was just to lay on my stomach with my legs open. And then I let the medicine and exhaustion lull me to sleep.

The desk clock read six thirty when I woke up. I could hear my parents downstairs and I started to wonder if I’d missed dinner. Getting out of bed, I exchanged my skirt for a pair of loose cargo pants and my blouse for a normal tee. Then I headed downstairs in the most natural steps I could muster, causing me extreme discomfort.

“How was your last full day of school?” my mom asked cheerfully. I smiled and answered ‘fine’.

“You feeling okay?” my dad’s voice trailed from the kitchen.

“I had a headache,” I answered honestly. “The nap helped.” And it did. My headache was gone, which made me all the more aware of my situation. I decided to take a seat on the couch to avoid too much movement. I didn’t want to attract my mom’s attention.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” my mom said, heading toward the kitchen. “Dinner is almost ready.”

Dinner went by without a hitch, although I had to reluctantly gulp down a glass of milk so I didn’t worry my mom and dad. But it had already been seven hours since my last bathroom break at the end of lunch and I didn’t need to go. And tomorrow was a half day, so I was rather confident I wouldn’t need to use the diaper before visiting Miss Ellis after school.

But by ten that night my estimation proved wrong. My need for a restroom had surfaced, but I ignored it. And after an hour of ignorance, I had to start concentrating so I didn’t accidently let go. And when midnight rolled around and my parents had gone to bed, sharp pains kept me awake.

I got out of bed, headed to the bathroom, and took off my cargo pants. I tugged on the plastic panties and tried to shimmy them down my hips, but all my attempts were unsuccessful. The cramps became sharper and more frequent and I had to bend over the countertop for support as a few tears slid down my cheeks and into the sink.

And I never stopped trying, but my body gave way and I couldn’t stop it. The dampness surrounded my crotch, then spread to my rear and coated my skin. The diaper began absorbing the liquid and it expanded as necessary. And after a very long time of wetting my diaper, I finally stopped and let myself cry.

I cried for a while, slipping to the bathroom floor and landing on my butt with a squish, plunging the plug deeper into me. And I cried more and thought about how I’d wet myself like a baby. And I cried more and thought about how I was crying like a baby. And I cried more and wished, like a baby, someone would come along and let me out of this diaper. But no one did.

It wasn’t long before the cramps returned. They succeeded each other more rapidly than before and I knew what would happen. Like last time, I held it the best I could, but my exhaustion had weakened me and a few minutes later I began to wet my diaper again. The warm liquid washed over my rear as I sat on the floor of the bathroom and continued to sob.

I finally cried myself out, which didn’t take long given that my tears hadn’t replenished from earlier that day. And I made my way back to my room and found my comfortable position in my bed. And I thought for sure that while wearing a wet diaper I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep, but I was warm and relieved to have it all over, and unconsciousness claimed me in no time at all.

[Sophie ♥]

*6* Friday

Words couldn’t express how desperately I wanted a shower when I woke up on Friday morning. The diaper had grown cold and uncomfortable overnight, and it clung to my skin as a constant reminder of my situation. I couldn’t get comfortable no matter how long I fiddled with the plastic panties, which I continued to do periodically throughout my morning rituals.

Since my hair already lacked its usual buoyancy, I didn’t waste my time with much makeup. I was going to look terrible regardless. And to make matters worse, I knew I was stuck in wet diapers until school ended.

I deliberately took my time getting dressed, waiting until I heard the door close behind my parents before I went downstairs. With how much the diapers had swelled since wetting them, I wasn’t sure I could walk normally enough to fool my parents. I began to worry about how I’d get through school, but I remembered there were only three classes today. Plus, most of the students would be so distracted with the excitement of finishing high school that no one would even notice me if I kept quiet. So that’s what I did.

Lucy was in my first hour, but I showed up late and sat in the back. She didn’t even notice I arrived until after class was over, but by then she was already off to second hour.

I pretended to pack things into my backpack until everyone had left, then headed toward the restroom. I typically use the toilet before my shower, but for obvious reasons I didn’t get that option this morning. My bladder was tremendously distressed and I knew I wouldn’t manage to hold it until after classes. I figured the best way to do this was to do as I normally did. I couldn’t even imagine wetting myself with everyone standing around me.

Closing the bathroom stall, I lifted my skirt and sat on the toilet. I tried to relax and pretend the diaper didn’t exist, but it wasn’t until after the second period bell rang that I was able to go. I felt the liquid as it pooled in the seat of my diaper and warmed my skin instead of expelling into the toilet bowl. My cheeks started to burn with embarrassment.

I finally let my skirt down and flushed the toilet unnecessarily, leaving the stall and heading toward my second hour. As much as I hated to admit it, the warmth of the newly saturated diaper was a much better experience than the cold, damp one I’d worn all morning. But although I was more comfortable, the diapers expanded further and my waddling became more noticeable.

I suppose the whole concept of hour-long classes being more organized proved true. We had final reviews in first and second hour, and in third hour our teacher started giving us advice about college. I was relieved to have all the focus directed toward the front of the room, but it didn’t prevent my anxiety from surfacing. I’d wet myself heavily three times already and I began to grow very fearful that I’d leak. And if the severe waddling didn’t tip off my classmates I was wearing a diaper, a huge watermark on the rear of my skirt certainly would.

But my worries were unnecessary. None of my friends were in my second or third hour and none of the other students paid much attention to me. By the time the final bell rang and I toddled out after the last student, my nervousness started to subside. All I had to do was get to Miss Ellis’ room.

I waited on a bench just outside my third hour classroom and watched the enthusiastic students head toward the busses. I tried to be excited like the rest of the seniors, but I never imagined high school would end with me sitting on a bench in a wet diaper. The halls began to clear and I slowly and carefully made my way to my English class, avoiding the remaining students best I could.

“You’re late,” she said as the door clicked shut behind me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, unaware I had a schedule. The room had been rearranged. Since it was the last day of school, all the desks were pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the room looking much bigger than it had. Miss Ellis was sitting at her desk with only a book and a pen placed upon it.

“It’s your last day,” she smiled at me. “Are you excited?”

I nodded honestly.

“How is your diaper?” Her smile grew. I looked to the floor, my cheeks starting to darken.

“Wet,” I answered shamefully.

“I suspect you’d like to be changed,” she said, closing the thin records book on her desk, the pen holding its spot for later.

“Yes,” I responded meekly.

“Then you’ll have to ask like a baby.” With that, she stood up from her seat, slipped the book into a drawer of her desk, and walked toward me.

I knew my situation, and the only way I could get what I wanted was by cooperating. And by this point in time, I was willing to do anything to get changed out of the soggy diapers. So I did my best to regress my tone, hitting an octave higher when I responded with, “Pwease change my diapee, Miss Ewwis.” She smiled a triumphant smile, and I made the mistake of assuming it was because I’d done what she wanted. In reality, she was only smiling at my attempt.

“Actually, Brooke,” she cooed, taking two steps closer as I took one step back, “babies can’t talk at all. So if you want to be changed, you have to cry.”

I shook my head slowly. “I can’t just cry on command.”

“Then I’ll help you.” She took my arm and led to over to her desk. I began to panic and pull away, but she had a firm grip on my wrist. Before I had the opportunity to protest, she bent me over her desk and held my back in place.

“Stay still,” she ordered as she took her hand off my back. I kept steadily in place on her desk, my cheek pressed against the wood and my hands above my head. Miss Ellis then took two leather strips out of her desk, fastening them tightly around my wrists. Those were soon accompanied by tight padded mittens made of white satin, then locked with tiny chains and padlocks just above the leather cuffs. And it wasn’t long after when those cuffs were secured to tiny rings on the far side of the desk with white rope. But I continued to lie obediently across her desk as my autonomy was stripped away, feeling more helpless as each second passed.

“Miss Ellis,” I began to plead, “please, don’t do anything to me.”

“I said babies can’t talk,” she said sternly, pulling out a large pacifier from her desk drawer and starting to add super glue to the inside of the shield.

“Please!” I screamed in distain. “I’ll be quiet! I’ll be good!”

“Do you want your diaper changed?” she inquired curiously.

“Yes, but--” My sentence was interrupted by the pacifier bulb penetrating my mouth and the glue smearing the outside of my lips. Much to my surprise, the bulb was extraordinarily oversized and took up most of my mouth; anything I tried to scream was completely inaudible. I tried to shake my head loose, but Miss Ellis tangled her fingers in my hair and held me in place as her free hand pressed the pacifier firmly to my mouth.

My eyes were already beginning to water and I did my best to think about my helpless situation and all the things Miss Ellis could do to me. And by the time the super glue dried against my mouth and Miss Ellis moved her hand, a few tears hit the desk. I mumbled and flailed, trying to get her to notice I was crying, but she either walked away too quickly or purposefully didn’t acknowledge my tears.

“Now let’s check the little girl,” Miss Ellis said, flipping the back of my skirt and sticking a finger into the leg band of my plastic panties. “Oh, she’s very wet.” I whimpered in embarrassment.

“I’d change you if only you’d cry like a baby,” she cooed to me. “And I could let you sit here, but what sort of babysitter would I be if I let my little girl get a rash. So I’ll help you cry.”

I felt her hand slowly run up my thigh and onto my rear. I knew what was coming: a crack of the cane on my diapered ass. I braced myself, feet firmly on the tile floor with my rear raised high into the air, hoping the two diapers would soften the impact. But instead came a sharp sting on my thigh as a loud whack rang through the air. The energy of the impact was dispersed across my thigh and I knew it wasn’t the slim cane that struck me.

Whack after whack came across the rear of my thighs, alternating back and forth. It was only after a few hits that I began to cry, but it wasn’t for fifteen minutes when I was in full-blown hysterics that Miss Ellis stopped the beating.

“There we go,” she said to me, walking into my field of vision holding a large wooden paddle. “Now that the baby is crying, I know what she needs: a nice diaper change.”

She pushed me further up onto her desk until my knees touched the edge, and then flipped me over onto my back so my bound arms crossed each other. Tears continued to pour down my cheeks toward my ears, my bangs clung to my forehead with sweat, and the back of my thighs burned against the wooden desk. My mouth was aching from all the attempts at screaming behind the super glued pacifier, so I began to suck it for comfort.

Miss Ellis kept true to her word, wasting no time in retrieving the key to the plastic panties and wiggled them down my legs. My tears kept pouring while she untapped the diapers and lifted my ankles, pulling the saturated garments from under me and throwing them into the trash. But the relief on my thighs was short lived and she slowly let my ankles back down. Taking baby wipes, she carefully cleaned me up, and it was around the time that she began her thorough cleaning that I settled down. Despite my predicament, Miss Ellis rubbing me down with the baby wipes turned me on. But that, too, was short lived. I was then flipped over onto my stomach, uncrossing my arms and relieving my thighs.

“Get onto your knees,” she instructed. I did as I was told; pulling one knee up to my waistline and then the other, I left my rear in a more compromising position than it was in during the spanking. I whimpered as my rectum expanded and the plug was pulled out of me. Due to the distraction of my saturated diapers and my anus growing accustomed to the intruder overnight, I had forgotten about the butt plug. Unlike the vibrator from Wednesday, it didn’t pleasure me, so I was without a constant reminder.

My head was between my elbows by this point, so I didn’t know exactly what Miss Ellis inserted into my rear after removing the plug, but in comparison it was a huge relief.

“Down,” Miss Ellis commanded and I complied, lowering my knees back to their place at the edge of the table. Then she rolled me over onto my back again and withdrew a large vibrator from the desk drawer, waving it in front of me before sliding it up into my vagina. I trembled at its enormous size and moaned from behind the pacifier. I was toggling the line between pleasure and pain as it tore its way into me, finally resting at my deepest point.

“We’re going to stick with one diaper this time,” Miss Ellis cooed to me. I shook my head in protest, but we both knew there was nothing I could do. I’d already surrendered to her whim, fearing spankings and craving pleasure. So I submissively lifted my rear when told and she placed a dry diaper beneath my butt.

I waited as the fresh smell of baby powder filled the air and as Miss Ellis rubbed it into my skin. Then, unexpectedly, liquid flooded into my rear using the small nozzle Miss Ellis put in there earlier. I began to breathe heavily at the foreign feeling as my bowels filled.

“It’s an enema, Brooke,” Miss Ellis cooed. “Judging by the expression on your face, you’ve never had one. In summary, it’ll make sure this diaper gets used.”

I tried to argue, but no words came out. I tried to writhe, but I remained still. I was stunned by the new sensations in my body and by the knowledge of what those sensations would later do to me. I knew how the human body worked, and I knew that liquid up your rear meant that I’d end up using the diaper in a way I wasn’t familiar with. And when Miss Ellis finally stopped the flow of water and pulled the nozzle from my butt, I began to cry out of humiliation.

“There, there,” Miss Ellis cooed at me as she taped the diaper snuggly around my waist. “No need to worry, Brooke. All babies do it.”

Before letting me up, Miss Ellis removed my skirt and unbuttoned my blouse, exposing my lace bra and newly fastened diaper. She then untied the ropes and helped me into a sitting position on her desk, sending me into hyperventilation behind the pacifier as the vibrator shifted within me.

I stood up shakily on the tile floor as she ushered me to the center of her classroom, now void of desks. Miss Ellis then lifted my hands above my head and pulled down a piece of white rope that I hadn’t noticed when I came into the room. It was wrapped around a support beam on the ceiling and I began understanding as Miss Ellis tied the cuffs to the rope to hold my hands above my head. She then went over to the wall by the pencil sharpener and tugged on a similar rope, which pulled my wrists toward the ceiling. I could barely stand on flat feet by the time Miss Ellis secured the rope around the pencil sharpener and walked back over to me.

“Now, one final thing before the fun begins,” she said with a smirk. Heading back to her desk, she pulled out a very large bag of milky liquid with a small tube hanging out the bottom. It reminded me of an IV bag at a hospital, which seemed appropriate since she hung it from a small metal hook on the ceiling, not too far from me. Then she come over, popped off the cap on the pacifier in my mouth, and inserted the hose connected to the bag. Immediately the milky liquid flowed into my mouth through holes in the pacifier bulb. I tried to plug them, but there had to be at least ten. As my mouth filled, I knew that to avoid choking to death I’d have to swallow. So I did and it tasted horrible.

“That is baby formula,” Miss Ellis explained, “mixed with a heavy diuretic, a stool softener, and a full bottle of magnesium citrate.” I looked at her with deep confusion and fear. I wasn’t sure what most of those would do to my body, but I knew she was not going to let our final lesson end without a bang.

I continued to drink the formula as a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I whined behind the pacifier and writhed against the restraints secured above my head. But everything was futile.

“It’s going to happen,” Miss Ellis said matter-of-factly. But I refused to believe her. Despite all impracticalities, I was going to resist my natural urges, break free of the restraints, get away from this classroom, and still receive an A in the class.

However, I didn’t consider the full extent of what the cramps could do to my free will. About twenty minutes in, I was sobbing, the tears falling from my chin and staining my bra. Between the cramps ripping away at my waistline and the overall fullness of my stomach from the formula, I felt ready to burst. But like I’d done in the bathroom the night before, I held on best I could.

“I was going to let you lose control on your own,” Miss Ellis said after a long silence between us, “but I’m getting impatient. I think an even better idea is for me to demonstrate my control over you in making you shit yourself.”

She took a step closer and I tugged hard on the rope holding up my hands, but I went nowhere. Upon reaching me, she put her arms around me, one firmly on my back and the other against my abdomen.

“Now use your diapers for your babysitter like a good girl.” And with that, she pressed hard against my waistline and I lost all control. The mess expelled from my rear and quickly soaked the outer layer of the diaper. It kept pouring out, filling the back and falling into place between my legs. Miss Ellis stepped back and smiled a cocky smile. I began to sob uncontrollably from behind the pacifier as I continued to mess my diaper, unable to stop.

“Atta girl,” Miss Ellis cooed as she fished out a bottle of nail polish remover and a cotton swab from her desk drawer. She set a small plastic clamp on the formula hose, although the bag was nearly gone, and dipped the swab into the nail polish remover. I continued to cry, completely humiliated, as she wiped my face down with the cotton swab and removed the pacifier from between my lips. I began to weep louder once my mouth was freed, and shortly thereafter I stopped messing the diaper.

Miss Ellis walked back to the pencil sharpener and released the rope, dropping me to my knees. The rope, still hanging limply from the ceiling, kept my wrists bound together. But before I had any more time to pity myself, the vibrator inside me turned on and shot pulses through my torso. I lost my breath and began breathing heavily, tears still dripping down my cheeks.

Looking up, I noticed Miss Ellis had walked back over to me. She had a purple remote in her left hand and a pair of panties in her right. Dropping the panties to the floor, seemingly unfamiliar to me, she grabbed my head and entwined her fingers in my hair. My face was shoved toward her crotch, the hand with the remove raising her skirt for access to her bare clit.

“You know what to do,” she instructed, shoving my face between her legs. I shook my head, sealing my mouth shut. I had already messed a diaper in front of her; there was no way I was going to eat her out while wearing it!

But I heard a click in Miss Ellis’ left hand and the vibrator sped up, sending waves of pleasure through my body. My breathing became heavy and my mouth opened automatically. Then my tongue was pressed against her crotch. I licked obediently, my hands fastened together and unable to help. She began to breathe as heavily as me.

The vibrator kicked into a new gear and I whimpered into her privates. Despite the warm mess shifting around in my diaper, I began to moan and lick more furiously. She stopped me only momentarily to lie down on the tile floor, lifting her skirt and spreading her legs. In this position, I had much better access and I knew immediately that I had improved by the increase of volume in her moaning. As a reward, the vibrator inside my diaper began to pulsate faster.

After a few minutes, we were both trembling. Her hand still securely held my hair although it was unnecessary, and we both knew what was going to happen. But still, that wasn’t enough for Miss Ellis. She had to humiliate me one last time.

“Now,” she began, plunging my face deeper into her crotch, “you’re going to cum in your shitty diaper. You’re going to prove how submissive you are and how much you love to use your diapers by having an orgasm in the dirty diaper you have on right now.”

I began to pull away, but sharp tugs on my scalp made sure to keep my tongue busy so there was no back talking. Still, I knew I wouldn’t give Miss Ellis the satisfaction. And there was no way I’d humiliate myself like that. Under no circumstances, no matter what Miss Ellis said, would I climax into a messy diaper. And of that I was certain!

I continued to slide my tongue around Miss Ellis, bringing her to a pre-orgasmic elated state multiple times, but she’d always grab my hair and wait until it passed before allowing me to continue. She kept this going for a while, and although the vibrator inside me shook with much vigor, I managed to keep my hormones in check.

“I think it’s time to end this,” Miss Ellis finally said through a series of pants and moans. “Now, show me how much you love your messy diapers.” Then the vibrator doubled in speed and I nearly fell limp with pleasure. I continued to lick Miss Ellis, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

I tried to focus on my situation, on the feel of the mess in my diaper or the smell that came from it. I tried to focus on the humiliation I was suffering and how much worse it would be if Miss Ellis succeeded. I tried to focus on this entire week as a whole and how badly it broke me. But when the vibrator clicked to its highest setting, the waves of pleasure consumed me. And I could think of nothing but Miss Ellis’ crotch at my lips and the pulsing member inside my body. And I tried, I really did, to remember why the messy diaper was a turn off, but in the end I trembled with pleasure and came into the diaper just as Miss Ellis did the same on my face.

We both held our positions, her lying on her back with her skirt up and me with my shirt undone between her legs, until I began cleaning her up with my tongue. She didn’t ask me, but I knew it was expected. And I felt no remorse in doing so.

She stood up first, grabbing my bound hands and pulling me to my feet. I was humiliated beyond comprehension, but hid it all in the only place I knew where to hide it: submission. Instead of crying, I looked at Miss Ellis with eager eyes on my next instruction.

I was nearly certain she’d send me home in the messy diaper, but instead she unbound my hands, took off the mittens, then the cuffs, and instructed me to lie on her desk. I did just that, complying obediently as she untapped the diaper and wiped me clean. Even when she pulled out a new diaper, I didn’t speak. She stood me up, fully clad in my school uniform and a nice dry diaper.

“Brooke,” Miss Ellis said with a smile. “You certainly earned your grade. I am very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Miss Ellis,” was all I responded with a half-dazed smile on my face. I felt oddly disconnected.

“Now, there’s one last thing.”

I felt nervous but I don’t think that expression reached my face.

“That formula I gave you earlier contained a lot of things,” she continued. “The first was a diuretic, which doesn’t let you hold your water and you’re likely to need to use the bathroom very often. The other was a stool softener to help things come out a little easier. And the last was magnesium citrate, which is a very strong laxative that will likely force you to mess yourself randomly.”

All I did was nod.

“I tell you this because I don’t think all of it will be out of your system until tomorrow afternoon, or even in the evening. The effects of these drugs usually last twenty-four hours, so I packed you some supplies.”And with that she handed me a black diaper bag. “That should be enough to help you out until everything is out of your system.”

“Thank you, Miss Ellis,” I repeated.

“Take care, Brooke,” she said as she began cleaning the room. “Have a good summer and good luck at Princeton.” Then I left, and it was over.

I took the bag and walked home, arriving on my doorstep just before school typically let out. My parents still weren’t home, so I went to my bedroom and rummaged through the diaper bag. There were eight heavy-duty adult diapers, a whole container of baby powder, a box of wipes, and an oversized pacifier similar to the one I’d had glued in my mouth. On the side pouch I found a small inexpensive-looking cell phone and a piece of typed paper. It read:

Both pictures of you are on this phone. No copies. Enjoy college.

It wasn’t signed.

I flipped open the phone and turned it on. I went to ‘Information’ and noted that the phone number matched the one I sent the picture to. Then I checked the provider and realized it was a text-as-you-go phone.

“It’s really over,” I whispered to myself.

I decided to spend the rest of my day watching TV and relaxing, but as I stood up to head downstairs, a harsh cramp in my abdomen knocked me to my knees and I began messing my diaper uncontrollably. And suddenly without Miss Ellis to dominate me, the humiliation came back tenfold. I remembered that it wasn’t truly over, and that I’d be in diapers for the rest of the night and part of tomorrow. And I began to cry very hard.

It wasn’t long into my sob-session that the need to pee arose, and I remembered what Miss Ellis said about diuretics and all the formula I drank. But before I had much time to react, I found myself already wetting the diaper.

I cried for hours, letting each humiliating task done in Miss Ellis’ classroom wash over me again and again. And finally, when my head was pounding and my diaper was nearly full, I grew dizzy and fell asleep on my bed.

I awoke to the sound of a closing door. The first thing I noticed wasn’t the clock, but instead a large wet puddle beneath my body. The sheets on my bed were drenched and I stood up to examine the situation. I must have wet myself while I was sleeping, and the diaper was soaked through. I did my best to hold back tears, telling myself they wouldn’t help me now.

I heard the door open downstairs as my parents walked in and I let out an aggravated sigh. I decided that the first thing to do was to change into a new diaper. Despite how much that idea sickened me, I knew that without them I’d likely mess my panties right in front of my parents. I would do anything to avoid that.

“Brooke, are you home?” my mom called up the stairs.

“Yeah, mom,” I called back. “Let me… put away my books. I’ll be right down.”

I grabbed the diaper bag, pulling out one of the oversized diapers and laying it on the floor. While standing, I unpinned the current used diaper and carefully let it fall to the floor. I grossly underestimated how much the diapers could hold; the one I’d just taken off was completely full.

“How many times did I wet in my sleep,” I quietly asked myself, but put the thought aside when I came back to reality.

Getting the wipes next, I cleaned myself off best I could, throwing the wipes and the dirty diaper away in the trash can of my room. Afterward, I stripped naked. My school clothes were completely soaked. I added them to a corner of my room and got on the floor, situating the diaper so the tapes were beneath my butt.

I wasn’t aware exactly how difficult it would be to tape a diaper up on oneself, but I had serious trouble. After the first few tries, I had to scrap the diaper and try a new one, fearful that a poorly taped diaper would lead to leaking. However, with the second diaper, I did a relatively good job the first time around. So I threw on some sweat pants and a t-shirt and headed downstairs to great my family.

“There’s our college girl!” my dad said as I walked down the stairs. With only one diaper on and nothing in my butt, walking casually was much easier.

“We saw your grades online!” my mom smiled. “You got a 4.0! We’re so proud of you!”

“Thanks a lot mom,” I said as cheerfully as I could. “Thank you, dad.”

“You did all the hard work,” my dad said. I’d never heard a truer statement in my entire life.

“I’m going to do some laundry,” I said, heading back toward the stairs.

“Oh, I can take care of it,” my mom said. “You should relax.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, “but I got it.”

She shrugged and I headed back up to my bedroom. The washing machine was upstairs, so I had no issues getting the wet uniform and sheets into the washer. I watched a bit of TV downstairs so my parents could chat with me, then I went upstairs and switched the clothes to the dryer. By the time they were done drying, and I got my bed back in order, it was dinner time.

I’d like to say that I got lucky and dinner went by without a hitch. But that wasn’t the case. I was lucky enough to not have any more effects of the laxative, but about halfway through dinner I needed to use the bathroom. I excused myself, went to the restroom, and wet my diaper while sitting on the toilet. I knew the situation I was in and I’d already wasted a diaper. If I took this one off, I wasn’t sure I could get it back on. Then I’d only have five left. And I was well-aware that they could hold multiple wettings without a problem. So I returned to the table in my damp diaper and chatted with my parents like nothing was different at all.

After dinner, my parents wanted to watch a movie. I agreed, but before we picked which one it was, the sharp cramps returned.

“Actually, I’m going to shower and sleep,” I said to my parents as I raced toward the stairs.

“It’s still pretty early,” my mom said, a little concerned.

“I want to be rested for tomorrow,” I smiled and head upstairs. But I didn’t make it to the bathroom. Near the top of the stairs I felt the mess erupt into my diaper. I stood still and finished messing myself, trying to convince myself that there was no point in crying. By the time it was over, I headed back to my room to grab the wipes, and then went right into the bathroom.

My shower was fantastic, finally feeling a sense of cleanliness beneath the warm water. It was euphoric. And I dreaded getting out, but I knew that my time in diapers wasn’t over.

This time, I got the diaper right on the first try and made sure to apply baby powder in case I had another accident in my sleep. Then I slipped into some very ‘adult’ pajamas to compensate and got comfortable in bed. Surprisingly enough, I fell asleep instantly.

[Sophie ♥]

*7* Saturday

The moonlight lit my bedroom. My drowsiness wouldn’t allow me to read the clock, but I wasn’t too concerned with the time. I sat up on my knees, dizzy from the series of contractions in my abdomen. Keeping my eyes closed, I positioned myself on all fours and proceeded to expel the waste into my diaper. When I was done and the pains subsided, I found a comfortable place in my bed and went back to sleep.

The sunlight lit my bedroom. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and looked at the clock. I still had time to sleep, but instead I got out of bed.

Before doing anything else, I examined the sheets. Dry. Then I looked at the diaper and let the feelings wash over me. Not dry, or clean. The memory of messing myself in the middle of the night was vague.

I decided the first thing I would do is change. Following similar mannerisms from the day before, I quickly cleaned myself with the baby wipes and situated a new diaper around my hips. I was getting better at taping them on.

Checking the bag, I counted the remaining diapers: four. I did the math in my head and concluded that at the rate things were going, I’d have a few left over. Then I slipped my pajama pants back on and made my way down to breakfast.

My parents weren’t up. It was only around seven in the morning, and we didn’t need to start getting ready for the ceremony for another few hours. Then I remembered the graduation ceremony and my bathroom situation. Would the drugs be out of my system by graduation? Even if only the diuretics were still in effect, I’d have to wear a diaper. I couldn’t leave the ceremony halfway to use the bathroom if the need arose.

My mind shifted to Miss Ellis and how much I despised her for doing this to me. Even more so, I despised her for everything she put me through over the past week. But I decided I was better off not thinking of her. Our time together was over, and although a few side-effects remained, I needed to move on.

As badly as I wanted breakfast, I watched Saturday morning cartoons until my parents came down. I knew that on my graduation day, they’d want to make me breakfast; if I did it myself they’d apologize for not being awake earlier.

It didn’t take them long, and when they came downstairs, my mom made pancakes and my dad made French toast. They each had a specialty, and according to them, I was special enough for two specialties. Successively, breakfast was amazing, but I shied away from liquids; I was curious to test how potent the diuretics were after a good night’s sleep.

Surely enough, just after breakfast, the need to use the bathroom arose. I tried to hold it and see how long I could last, but within twenty minutes the cramps were starting in. I tried to make it to the bathroom, but I’d waited too long. My diaper grew damp as I closed the bathroom door and I let out a sigh of frustration. Twenty minutes wouldn’t suffice at graduation.

It was nearly time to get ready, so I took off the wet diaper and threw it away in my bedroom’s trash can. It was a waste, considering how much they could hold, but I knew I had some spares. I wasn’t worried.

The shower, although less euphoric than the day before, was wonderful. Although I’m not OCD about it, I am a pretty cleanly person, and recently the shower is the only place I feel clean. Even in a dry diaper, I have a small sense of filth knowing how it will be used.

Reluctantly, I had to dry off and get dressed. A new diaper replaced my typical underwear, and then I clipped my bra across my chest. I took a quick look in the vanity mirror of my room and then blushed. The diaper looked significantly more professional, like the picture I took after Miss Ellis taped one on. And if it weren’t me who was looking, and perhaps someone who didn’t mind the diaper, I’d probably come off as pretty sexy.

I rushed the thought from my head. Although I was confined to these things for the next few hours, that didn’t mean I had to go finding positives about it. The fact of the matter is, I’m an adult and I wanted out of diapers as soon as possible.

Under a graduation gown, I was told to wear something formal. I picked a nice dress my parents had gotten me a while ago that bordered the line of casual. I didn’t want to look too dressed up for lunch after the ceremony. I also made sure to slip on a pair of black shorts under the dress, just in case.

My hair was left down, like usual, and curled slightly for a more formal and mature look. I kept the make-up light. And soon I was ready to go, remembering to pack a spare diaper in my handbag.

My gown, black with a purple tassel on the hat to represent school colors, was extremely loose. I suspected that’s the way it should be, and I was a little thankful since it made waddling less noticeable. The cap didn’t do my appearance justice, but the curls of my hair made me look attractive.

I went out into the yard with my parents and they began to take pictures. All I could think about was what I would think when I looked back on these photographs: would I be proud of graduating or remember how I’d worn a diaper to the ceremony. But I shook the thought away and smiled for the hundreds of pictures my mother wanted.

After a while, my dad checked his watch and we piled into his Explorer. The ceremony wasn’t at the actual high school, but a city-owned auditorium down the road. It wasn’t a long drive, but I began to feel anxious. The diaper was a high contributor, but our class didn’t have a rehearsal ceremony. I wasn’t sure how to walk or what to say. Luckily, the one boy with a higher grade point average than me was doing the speech, so that was something I didn’t need to worry about.

Upon arrival, the parents and students parted. I took a set of stairs into the basement and met up with the rest of my graduating class.

“Congratulations,” Lucy said to me from the side. I hadn’t noticed her approach. “They need you up front, you know.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. “Congratulations to you too.”

“The party is at seven,” she grinned. “You know where Doug’s is, right?”

I nodded. “Where do they need me?”

She pointed a finger through the crowd at a booth near the entrance to the auditorium. I thanked her and proceeded through the ocean of gowns.

“My name is Brooke Watson,” I told the woman working the booth. “I’m supposed to come up here.”

“Just for the sign-in, my dear,” she smiled at me. “Oh, and you’re second in your class!”

I nodded proudly.

“Then this is yours,” she said, handing me a white sash. “Now, you make sure to follow the valedictorian to the stage, and sit on the far chair.”

I stared dumbfounded. “You mean I sit on the stage?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “That’s so people know how well you did.”

“Can I opt for a different seat?”

The woman looked confused. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Never mind,” I sighed, wrapping the sash around my neck. My parents probably wanted to see me up there on stage, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.

The ceremony began typically as I took my seat on the far left of the stage, scanning for my parents. First, the principal was talking at the podium. After him, the school superintendant. After him, a lady I didn’t recognize, and then the National Junior Honor Society committee head. And by the time the principal took over again, I found my parents and waved. I also found Miss Ellis in the instructor’s section smiling up at me. I had no doubt in my mind that she knew what I was wearing beneath my gown.

I watched mostly my parents or the camera crew, always smiling, until they started calling names. They began with the students on stage, and I began feel nauseous and my stomach turned. I hoped it was only anxiety, since the alternative would result in me humiliating myself on stage.

“Brooklyn Lee Watson.”

I stood, walked center stage, accepted my diploma, and waved to my parents.

“Thank you, Sir,” I said to the principal, then shook his hand. Then I shook the hands of the three other speakers, and took my seat. But I continued to feel sick. My stomach was still fluttering and I grimaced as a small bolt of pain hit me.

Controlling myself was easier now that the drugs had mostly run their course, and I lasted until they got to the Ds before wincing. But the cameras kept watching me and I didn’t know what to do.

The discomfort was growing to unbearable levels, and I knew that to avoid making contorted facial expressions it was best to intentionally mess the diaper than wait until I was in full out agony. So I sighed and pushed, using my cloaked sleeves to rub my face for a second or two, hiding my strain.

All it took was a little effort and the mess oozed into the diaper. Unlike before, since I was seated, it kept close to my skin. It was difficult to fill the diaper while seated, so to avoid additional lapses of pain I used my hands to lift off the chair slightly so I could finish. I imagine the only expression I exhibited was discomfort, which was understandable by the audience since our chairs weren’t padded.

“Lucy Marie Gibson.”

I clapped loudly, although we were instructed not to until the end. A few audience members always clap, so I took the initiative. Then the severe humiliation of having messed myself in front of thousands of people took hold and the blush consumed my face. I shrugged lightly at the camera, playing off the blush as having clapped, and tried to relax.

My anxiety was treacherously high, and I was on the edge of a panic attack. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath, telling myself that no one knows and no one ever will.

Then I opened my eyes to Miss Ellis smiling up from the crowd. I pouted in my chair and felt all the frustration of the week wash over me: everything she did, including this moment in my life. Then they said Chloe’s name and I clapped again. And after that, I stayed silent the rest of the ceremony.

The valedictorian took far too long with his speech, and by the end, after perhaps an hour and a half of sitting in my own mess, the discomfort was unbearable. I wanted so badly to excuse myself to a restroom, but my parents were waiting outside with a camera. It wasn’t until we arrived at the restaurant and I’d taken off my gown that I had a chance to change.

Closing the stall door behind me, I lifted my dress and pulled down my shorts. The diaper held wonderfully, and I complimented myself on mastering the art of diapering. Of course, my mastery only included lying on my bedroom floor, so I found it a new challenge to tape a dry diaper on myself while standing. In the end, after my best attempt at cleaning myself with the dry toilet paper, I leaned against the stall door with the seat of the diaper between it and myself. Then I pulled the front between my legs and taped it in place around my hips. It was an ill-performed feat, but it would have to do.

Lunch was fantastic. We had Chinese since it’s my favorite type of food. I even had two glasses of soda now that the effects of the diuretics had seemingly ended. Then my parents took me home to get ready for the party.

“You can borrow the car,” my dad said on the drive back.

“It’s okay,” I replied, knowing full well I was going to be drinking. “I’m going to stay the night there, anyway.”

“At a boy’s house?” my mom questioned nervously.

“No, we’re going back to Lucy’s.” They live just down the street from each other. Actually, most everything in the town is in relatively close proximity. It’s very convenient.

“Well, just be responsible,” my dad said. I nodded in agreement.

Picking an outfit for the party was a lot harder than an outfit for the ceremony. I wasn’t sure how casual it would be, but I did ultimately decide on a tight pair of jeans and a low-cut dressy shirt. I still had two hours before the party.

Still in my graduation dress, I sat on the couch in the living room and watched television. I waited for time to pass and watched different modern day cartoons and wondered why they didn’t stick with the old ones from when I was little, since they were obviously better.

My phone vibrated. ‘Don’t forget your cap.’ It was Lucy.

I would have forgotten it, too. Our school doesn’t let us throw our caps up in the auditorium at the end of the ceremony since it’s indoors, so our town has a tradition to wear your caps to the after-parties and throw them up there.

It wasn’t long after that when all the soda I drank came back to me. I continued to watch television, telling myself I wasn’t going to move until I finished one half hour episode. Before the diuretics, I could postpone my bathroom habits up to three hours after the sensation first hit. A half hour should be nothing.

But sure enough, thirty minutes came and went. I decided to test myself and add another half hour. Halfway through the second television program, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I’d past the point of no return, and a dash to the bathroom was futile. Instead, I let myself wet the diaper, dampening my skin and coating it in warmth. And sitting there, watching cartoons in a wet diaper, suddenly made me very embarrassed. So I turned off the television and headed to my room to prepare for the party.

I took the diaper off and cleaned up, thankful for baby wipes this time. And then I took a good, hard look at my situation.

“Forty-five minutes is a very good time frame, and that’s almost a half hour more than last time. As for messing myself, I held on for at least ten minutes at the ceremony. That’s definitely enough to make it to the bathroom, and next time the drugs will have even less of an effect. I should be fine for the party.”

So, for the first time in two days, I slid a pair of panties up my legs and around my waist. It was a good feeling, but I had to get used to walking again without the thickness between my thighs. I slipped the tight jeans on next, then the blouse, and then went to the bathroom to check myself in the mirror.

Seeing my ass visible through the tight constraints of the jeans was a fantastic feeling. My chest was an object of admiring in the low-cut shirt, and I felt very sexy and very adult.

I made sure to use the bathroom as best I could before returning to my room, grabbing my cap, and heading out the door. My parents both said goodbye and to have fun. I only smiled, sincerely happy for the first time in a week.

The party was mostly music and dancing, and not a lot of popular people were there yet. The drinks don’t really get going until the sun goes down. That’s when all the people show up.

“You made it,” Lucy smiled at me. I gave her a hug. “I half-expected you not to show.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I smiled. Then I said my hello to Doug who was at Lucy’s side, and thanked him for inviting me.

“No problem,” he said casually. “It’s nice seeing you. You don’t get out much.”

“I know it,” I laughed. “Got the pool table open?”

“It’s where it always is,” Doug said to me.

So I left the two to go play pool. I’m terrible at shooting pool, but I liked to learn. Geometry is a basic thing to me, but I still have trouble hitting the balls at the right angle. So I play when I can and I watch when I can’t.

Hours passed and I ate a ton of pretzels. Pizza was ordered, and it arrived around the same time the beer and liquor did. I opted for pizza first.

“So, what doesn’t taste terrible?” I asked Lucy. Doug left her side to tend to some food issues.

“I’ll make you a drink,” she said, patting my shoulder and walking toward Doug. And I waited, nervous about my first grown-up drink at a grown-up party. I wondered exactly if I belonged here, but she handed me a cup anyway, and I drank it.

“Lemonade?” I asked incompletely.

“Peach schnapps and lemonade,” she corrected, “with a bit of vodka for content and zing.”

And it wasn’t that bad, but I was also really thirsty. I drank perhaps two thirds of the cup over the course of fifteen minutes before growing tired of the sickly fruit taste. So I headed back to the drink table and dumped the remaining, then looked at the bottles.

The place was stocked. You would have thought alcohol was a requirement to enter, and it might have been and I might have been the exception. Is that because I’m a goody-two-shoes? My thoughts were a little hazed, but not enough to be considered anything.

Among all the bottles, I found one I recognized from a book I read: Strawberry Hill. It was a very cheap wine, and subsequently there were many bottles. I took a full one and unscrewed the cap. No cork.

I took a swig. It was strawberry flavored in the sense that cough syrup is strawberry flavored. And although I didn’t like it as much as the drink Lucy gave me, it had familiarity and I liked that about it.

Wandering back to the pool table, I ran into Chloe. She already seemed tipsy, and I mostly know that because she agreed to play a game of pool with me although she hates pool. And I let her sip my bottle of wine and we played pool. I won, which was a very warm feeling, or maybe that was the wine. I was starting to miss a lot of shots I don’t usually miss.

Chloe exited before the game ended and I played alone, finishing the bottle of wine by myself. My body was as equally dizzy as my head. But I continued to play and miss shots.

“Like this,” said a voice, then arms wrapping around me and holding my hands. I think I shot the pool cue, since the balls moved and two went in. One was white.

“Well not exactly like that,” said the boy, who was smiling down at me after I turned around.

I held up the bottle. “I am usually better.”

“I’ll play you when you’re sober one day,” he smiled. “Did you drink that on your own?”

I shook my head.

“I’m Oliver.”

“Brooke.”

“You were on stage at the ceremony,” he commented, tapping my tassel. I forgot I had the cap on. He didn’t have one.

“Your cap?” I questioned. I don’t know what happened to the English language when I talked.

“I graduated last year, and I’m back for the summer. My brother graduated today.”

“You’re at your little brother’s graduation party?” I stifled a laugh.

“My friend brought most of the alcohol, so I get privileges.”

I smiled at him and he smiled back and I felt a little dizzier and he noticed I wasn’t going to say anything.

“I didn’t expect a top student here.”

“Me neither,” I joked.

“Well, you’re cute. And you’re funny when you’re drunk. Do you want to hang out?”

“I want to. And find a bathroom.” I wasn’t thinking much about earlier that week, but I knew I needed to go.

“Follow me,” he said, although I had little choice since he took my hand.

I found, occupied, and promptly used the bathroom, then returned to the party and found Oliver. And we went outside and sat by the pool, which was mostly empty except for a few boys playing chicken. And I wished stars were out so I could have a romantic moment, but it was a cloudy night.

Lucy smiled and waved and pointed from across the pool, making gestures indicating she totally approves of Oliver. But I just smiled. I wasn’t paying too much attention to her or anyone or anything, even Oliver.

“So how was your last day of school,” he asked.

“Terrible,” I frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why so bad?”

All I did was laugh. Then the topic changed and I felt the need to use the bathroom again. But since I just went, I knew the urge was hardly desperate, and I had at least an hour before it was mandatory.

However, I didn’t consider the effects alcohol on one’s bladder, as well as the constant need for a bathroom after going the first time after drinking. And I fidgeted in my lawn chair and stood up after a long while. But I was hazed and giddy and kept forgetting where I was going. So I sat back down.

“I want a sandwich,” I told Oliver.

“Want me to get you one?” he asked.

“No. I just wanted you to know I want a sandwich.”

He laughed.

“I’m going to… make a sandwich.”

I stood up and he didn’t follow. I walked inside and walked to the kitchen, then to the pool table and then to the porch. A lot of people were smoking on the porch, so I went out on the lawn. A lot of people were making out on the lawn, so I went back to the pool. Oliver wasn’t there. I wondered why, and that wondering clouded my body’s last attempt at telling me to find a bathroom. Then my jeans dampened and a puddle formed at my feet. And a girl by the pool noticed before I did.

“Hey Doug, we’ve got a wetter!”

I blushed. That’s all I could do.

A lot of people laughed and Doug walked over to me and took me by the hand. He led me inside and up the stairs to a designated bathroom.

“Part of the rules of the party, Brooke,” he said with a laugh. He had been drinking too. “If you piss your pants, you’ve got to wear a diaper.”

I laughed. I laughed really hard. And I couldn’t stop. And he laughed too, but he didn’t get the irony so he stopped first.

“Diapers are under the sink in the bathroom and the washing machine is down the hall.” He pointed. Then he turned and went away.

I went into the bathroom, and sure enough there was an opened pack of adult diapers beneath the sink. So I stripped from my panties and jeans, tossed them in the corner, and got down on the floor and expertly diapered myself. I took a look in the mirror, seeing my cheeks rosy red and my expression giddy. I must have had a lot to drink.

Stepping outside cautiously, I went into the laundry room and tossed my jeans into the washing machine. There were two other pairs of pants already in there, and I remembered how the pack of diapers was opened. I didn’t start the washer, and just went back down the stairs to the party.

My shirt covered my waistline pretty well, but the diaper was still obvious and visible. My walking wasn’t disrupted because, unlike the ones Miss Ellis gave me, these were nearly as thin as panties. Nonetheless, I was still anxious and afraid, so I started watching people much more carefully through the haze. People laughed, but no one stared. I was confused since I didn’t understand the fundamental dynamics of drunken people at a party.

I saw another guy in a diaper too, a red plastic cup in his hand and chatting it up with some guys in a corner. And no one was laughing at him. Then I looked around and realized no one was laughing at me anymore either.

It was only for another half hour that people danced and drank and talked. That’s when the booze ran out and everyone began their departure. I stayed seated on the couch, watching an Adam Sandler film and laughing at it for the first time. And then I closed my eyes.

[Sophie ♥]

*END* Sunday

Shaking woke me up in a stupor. I looked around, dazed. The light hurt.

“Good morning, Brooke.” It was Doug, and his voice a whisper. I let my eyes adjust and looked around. People were asleep all over the house, which was trashed. Lucy was cuddled up next to me, still asleep.

“Hey,” I responded at full volume, then wincing at my headache.

“Pills are on the counter to help with the hangover, and I’ll give you a few minutes to change before I wake the other’s up.”

I was puzzled, and then looked down at the obviously wet diaper between my legs. Memories came back slowly of the night before.

“Your pants are in the bathroom upstairs, and I advise taking that pill as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” I said shyly, pushing Lucy off me carefully.

I took his advice and went after the pills first, then headed upstairs slowly and into the bathroom. There were a stack of folded jeans and boxers on the countertop. I counted five jeans and three boxers. I looked around for my underwear, but they were nowhere to be seen.

I went back downstairs in my newly-washed jeans as two boys proceeded up the stairs in diapers. Looking around, I found Doug.

“Sorry about, you know.”

“It was a pretty good laugh,” he smiled. “You were totally out of it.”

I smiled and chuckled.

“Don’t worry about the diaper thing. There are always people that end up in them at my parties. And at least you weren’t the only girl this time.”

I looked around, but saw no girls without pants.

“She’s upstairs,” he explained, pointing up with his finger.

“What about my underwear?” I whispered. “I couldn’t find them.”

He shrugged. “It’s common. When I go to get the stuff out of the dryer, someone always steals the panties.”

I laughed.

“You going home?” he asked.

“Mind if I stick around? My parents would kill me if I came home with a hangover.”

He smiled. “Lucy and I are going to a concert tonight. You are welcome to come. And I’ll invite Oliver.”

I blushed. “Alright, I’m in.”

I headed back to the couch and turned the TV on, lowering the volume to 1. I watched Sunday cartoons as Doug woke up the people around me. Slowly, the day was coming alive. Slowly, my summer was looking up.

[PArms]

Wow. That was a great ending. Now I see the foreshadowing!! Excellent way to add the accident without ruining her social life. Now I'm wondering just how much did the others drink to pee themselves. Maybe each had their own week less ordinary.

[capt.mad_cow]

This was a great story it would have been another twist if Miss. Ellis was at the party but the ending was just fine. I hope you have more stories swirling in your head.

[diaper24/7]

Nice story it was really good and well thought out plot for the whole story it all was good those.

[Sophie ♥]

Thank you everyone! And I'm sure I have many more stories to come. But I'm gonna try to finish Bits of Molly...

-Sophie

[WriteAndLeft]

Thank you for finishing the story. I loved it. I just wish Miss Ellis got in trouble or ended up in the back of a police car at the end, but I guess you couldn't do that the way you wrote the end. Love the story and hope you write another story soon.

[Sophie ♥]

In my head, Miss Ellis is sort of an unstoppable factor. I think having her get caught really ruins her whole essence of control. *shrug* That's why I took the ending the way I did.

Nonetheless, I'm glad my story was well received.

-Sophie

[aleyxsis]

I do think miss Ellis should of got in some sort of trouble but in the end i think Brooke seem to enjoy the ending i think ??

[diaperpt]

Excellent story. Yes, Miss Ellis should never have been allowed to do what she did to any student. But then, this is a story. The wonderful writing allows you to suspend your disbelief and just enjoy the story.

Thanks for writing and finishing this story!

[PArms]

I was waiting for Brooke to spot Miss Ellis in the audience and find her wearing a wry smile just to make Brooke even more uptight about her tummy troubles.

[dldad]

I thought the ending was very good. A quite a twist to having diapers at a drinking party, anyway. Glad to see that the other party goers didn't make a big deal out of the need for the diapers, and not seemingly fazed by them.

[Sophie ♥]

Thanks all! You're all so sweet to me.

-Sophie