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Hey there!! Guess who's back with more Academy Works! (It's me. Mia.) I've actually written four other stories in this universe and they are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), and Academy K (Part 4). For the first time, I'm going to strongly recommend you read the other parts first! You don't have to; Aya's story is really great even without context. But I do think this story would benefit from knowing more about the series overall. (Also this one kicks into gear a little faster than A:K ) Same as before, you can support me at this Patreon link. Thanks for reading and commenting and liking! It really does help my motivation. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy A By Mia Moore "Under the weight of a cosmic promise, fate is invincible. It hides like stars in daylight. But if one could see through the veil, they could find the star they were looking for. They could follow it blindly over a thousand horizons, and pray in earnest that it followed them blindly in turn. For stars are very powerful things, and fate often has ideas of its own." -The Preamble Chapter One Ayoka Kanoska fumbled with her hair ribbon, pulling her dark brown hair back in a ponytail as she ran down the hall. She knew she wasn't allowed to run, but the fear of arriving late to class was so much worse. Already, the halls were nearly empty, and other stragglers like her were ducking into classrooms as quickly as they could. But just as Ayoka got to her room, a chime sounded - a single note echoing through the halls - and her hand froze on the doorknob. Only a second late... but she was late nonetheless. Another second passed. Two seconds late. And then a third. Three. Ayoka took a deep breath and pushed through her anxiety, clicking open the doorknob and stepping into the classroom. The door was at the front of the room, and a dozen eyes all turned to face her as she entered. "Nice of you to join us, Aya," Mr. Margo said from behind his desk. "And untidily dressed, to boot." "I, um..." Aya quickly started to tuck her shirt into her skirt with shaky fingers. "I overslept..." "I'm disappointed," Mr. Margo said plainly, then nodded toward Aya's desk. "Take your seat." "Yes sir," Aya muttered, tears filling her eyes. She walked around the small row of desks until she got to hers. There were only five other students in the class, all of whom would sometimes flicker their gaze in her direction. Aya took her seat and felt sickness filling up her stomach, like a hurricane of self-loathing and bile. Disappointed... Aya was quiet for most of the class. It was math. She was good at math, though nothing at the Academy was particularly challenging. It felt like middle school courses, at best. Maybe even elementary, which certainly matched their uniforms. At the end of the hour, another chime rang and her classmates all got up from their chairs. On their way to the door, they stopped by Mr. Margo's desk to pick up a set of stickers. But when Aya approached, he didn't hand her anything at all. "No stickers today," he said calmly. "None?" Aya felt her heart sink. That was unacceptable. The hurricane in her stomach churned violently. "You were late. You were underdressed. And you didn't participate in class. What would I reward you for?" "But I set my alarm, I swear..." Aya felt tears in her eyes again. The little bell clock on every student’s nightstand had a switch on the back to turn the alarm on and off. Aya checked hers every night before bed, but this morning it was turned off. "Maybe it was a prank, maybe someone’s going around—" "Everyone else was here on time," Mr. Margo said, a touch of irritation in his voice. The tone felt like sandpaper against Aya's cheek, like she'd been slapped. She blinked hard and tears slid down to her chin. "Please, I... I can't..." With a sigh, Mr. Margo leaned forward in his chair and looked at his student. His face was full of quiet contemplation. "Do you need to take a hall pass?" he asked. "N-no. I'm fine, I'm fine..." Aya wiped the tears from her eyes. If she took a hall pass, she wouldn't get any stickers for the whole day! That was too costly. "Well, I'll write you one anyway. You can use it as you please." Mr. Margo took a pad out of his desk drawer and wrote out a little note before giving it to Aya. She looked down at it with defeat and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. "Thank you, Mr. Margo," Aya muttered, stepping out of the classroom and into the busy hallway. She walked automatically to her next class; it had become so routine. But all the while, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. "Aya," Ms. Martens said sternly. Second hour had only just begun and already Aya was struggling to pay attention. "We’re studying planets, but that doesn’t mean you have an excuse to be a little space cadet. Try to focus." Compared to Mr. Margo, Ms. Martens was a nightmare. She was a very stern teacher and she certainly looked the part, dressed in pointed shoes, a tight bun of brown hair, and horn-rimmed glasses. "I’m…I’m s-sorry, Ms. Martens," Aya stammered, holding back tears. She could feel them in the corners of her eyes like red hot pokers. "Please get in pairs and work on your planet worksheet," Ms. Martens said, handing out three pieces of paper, each with a diagram of the solar system. The class split into the same three pairs they always did, which put Aya with Summer. "I can't believe you were late," Summer whispered, filling in Mars with red crayon. "Me neither," Aya muttered, picking out a yellow crayon to color in Venus. "Do you know how many stickers Emily got in math?" "Three, I think," Summer said cautiously. "But you really shouldn't worry about her." Of course Aya worried about her. Emily was just a few stickers behind Aya ever since the start of the term. Aya had worked so hard not to slip up and let her get ahead, and now this... "Wait, is Pluto still a planet?" Aya asked, trying to think about anything but math class. "There are definitely nine on this sheet." "Maybe they changed it again since we were abducted?" Summer suggested, about as delicately as a stone through a car window. "It's been a year..." A school year, Aya mentally amended. When she arrived, it was hot and sticky. The leaves changed colors. Snow settled for a while. Then there were flowers and birds and lots of rain. The nostalgia of summer was palpable, like she could feel the end of spring. The end of the Academy, maybe? How long until they were allowed to go home? "Aya," Ms. Martens called from the front of the room. "Come here, please." "Yes, ma'am." Aya got up without a thought and hurried to the front of the room. What was this about? "Hands on the desk," Ms. Martens instructed. Aya did just that. She knew what was happening even before Ms. Martens lifted the seat of her skirt, flashing the seat of her diaper to the entire room. A blush filled Aya's cheeks. Though it had become so routine, she still felt a deep embarrassment when her classmates - or anyone - would see her diapers. "Wet your diaper," Ms. Martens instructed. Aya did just that, or at least she tried to. When she first got to the Academy, she would never have done it. Then, after she got over herself, she couldn't do it for a long while. But after so many months, wetting herself on command was second nature. It was as automatic as walking from one classroom to the next. But what little bit she managed to dribble out between her legs didn't even change the tint of the white plastic. Aya had woken up so late that she didn’t have time to get breakfast before class, and that meant she didn’t have her usual glass of morning juice. She also forgot to go to the drinking fountain between classes, lost in her thoughts about Emily and her stickers. And Aya - like every student at the Academy - was a bedwetter, and never had to go in the mornings anymore. Plus, the teachers didn’t usually make her do this until third period, or even after lunch! "Go on," Ms. Martens urged, a deep annoyance in her voice that made Aya sick with anxiety. Aya tried to force herself, to push and strain, but that only made it harder. Panic rose in her chest and she balled her hands on the edge of the desk. The hurricane in her stomach churned and, before Aya knew what was happening, a loud fart heralded the filling of her diaper. Her knees quivered and Aya held onto the desk for support as she pushed more and more of her mess into the seat of her crinkly underwear, until it sagged down between her thighs. When it was over, when she could focus on something other than the sensation of mushing her diaper for the hundredth time, she heard the snickering of her classmates and the disapproving tsk of Ms. Martens's tongue. Tears filled Aya's eyes, torn apart by the humiliation and the disappointment. "Oh my moon and stars," Ms. Martens gasped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I’m certain I asked for you to wet your diaper, not make a big stinky mess of it." The admonishment was hard to hear, and the giggling of her classmates made it even worse. But when Ms. Martens reached under the crest of Aya’s diaper and smushed her mess against her butt, it pushed Aya over the edge. Water broke free from her tear ducts and spilled down her cheeks. Everything was going wrong, and before Aya could stop herself she started to defend herself to her teacher. "I’m so so so sorry, Ms. Martens, I’m sorry! I did wet, I did. It wasn’t just that very much, I swear! Please, pretty please I’m sorry, I’m a good girl!" The class fell quiet, and all eyes fell on the teacher. There was nothing so blasphemous as declaring oneself to be good. "You're good?" Ms. Martens asked sharply. It felt like knives on Aya's skin, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She could hardly breathe. "You don't make that judgement, Ayoka. I do. And this was absolutely not 'good girl' behavior." "I'm sorry, I..." "Silence," Ms. Martens said, louder than Aya had ever spoken in her life. Like a spell, Aya reached her shaking hand into her skirt pocket, reaching past the hall pass, and pulling out her pacifier. It was bigger than anything meant for a baby, with a pink guard, and the words "Mute Button" printed on the button. She put it into her mouth without protest, effectively silencing her cries. Tears continued down her cheeks in torrents, but none of the whimpering was audible. Aya heard footsteps as Ms. Martens walked around. She heard a few clicks. Muttering from her classmates. More footsteps. Then the next thing she heard was a loud crack as a long ruler came down sharply on the backs of her upper thighs. There was a special kind of squealing that was really only possible when an oversized pacifier was in the mouth of an adult; a muffled, broken sound, kind of like a yelp or a squeak, interrupted halfway through the high note. That was what Aya sounded like as the ruler hit the back of her thighs. She squealed, whimpered, and blubbered, but the pacifier made it all sound so muffled and muted - not like the crystal clear cracks of the ruler against her skin. "I’ve never been so disappointed, Ayoka, never in all my years." Those words hurt so much more than the ruler did, and Aya would have begged for a thousand more strikes against her skin to have them undone, to have that poisonous toxic taste in her mouth washed away. It was only after a few swats with the ruler when Ms. Martens asked: "Have you been punished enough, Ayoka?" Aya shook her head desperately. She wanted more. She wanted more hits on her thigh; she wanted everyone to see how full her diaper was. She wanted to cry and sob and sulk and beg. She wanted to be a good girl. She needed to be a good girl. Ms. Martens needed to praise her. And Aya would do anything to get it. Ms. Martens was done after twenty smacks with the ruler, though Aya had lost count around six or seven. She was blubbering on the desk, soaking the polished wood with her tears, as her knees shook. Her burning red thighs and the full seat of her diaper were both on display for the class, but no one was laughing anymore. Everything was silent. "Go sit down," Ms. Martens commanded. Without an ounce of hesitation, Aya went back to her seat. She sat down in her mess, squishing against her butt and filling the area with a familiar smell of dirty diaper. Her thighs stung against the plastic chair, but she didn't yelp. She sucked noiselessly on her pacifier and continued to cry. Everyone went back to work. One other person - Alex - was called to the front of the room. His shorts were tugged to his ankles and he was instructed to wet his diaper. He did, soaking through the padding until the seat of his crinkly behind was discolored halfway up his butt. With a 'good boy' and a diaper pat, he pulled up his shorts and was sent back to his seat. Aya watched with burning envy and the sickness inside her grew worse. The voice in her head was back, telling her how incompetent she was. Pathetic. Useless. She couldn't even follow a basic instruction. When class ended, Alex got three stickers. Emily got two. And once again, Aya got none. She stood in front of Ms. Martens's desk with a blank stare, unable to meet her gaze. "Get cleaned up," Ms. Martens said. "I'll send word to your next class that you'll be late." Aya knew she wouldn't get in trouble this time, not with a teacher's word on her side, but it still felt like a failure. Another tardy class. Aya walked absently down the hall, toward the changing rooms. The full diaper between her thighs forced her to waddle. She wasn't crying, but drying tears still stuck to her cheeks. Her pacifier was still placed firmly between her lips, and she knew she wasn't allowed to remove it until one of the staff pulled it out. Maybe the nurse would be so kind.