Unfair: A Diaper Dimension Novel (Chapters 115 Uploaded!)

[Traycie]

Talk about two chapters of all on action, so close to being taken by a students Mom, saved by his teacher friend and now looking at her being his nemesis, I suspect it isn’t what he is thinking, while she may have saved him from the deranged woman and have a car seat and the flyer there could be very good explanations for both. 

[TerranV]

2 hours ago, Traycie said:

Talk about two chapters of all on action, so close to being taken by a students Mom, saved by his teacher friend and now looking at her being his nemesis, I suspect it isn’t what he is thinking, while she may have saved him from the deranged woman and have a car seat and the flyer there could be very good explanations for both. 

I think Janet might be considering adopting a little in general (not necessarily Clark). With a talk, they might reach an understanding but I think this could be what pushes Clark to quit his job. This whole incident would be too much and he promised his wife he would get out at the first sign of trouble. Its been more than a "sign".

[Moon3ye]

3 hours ago, TerranV said:

I think Janet might be considering adopting a little in general (not necessarily Clark). With a talk, they might reach an understanding but I think this could be what pushes Clark to quit his job. This whole incident would be too much and he promised his wife he would get out at the first sign of trouble. Its been more than a "sign".

He is too proud to recognize the danger and quit.

I bet he won't quit and sooner or later he'll be back in diapers, but this time permanently.  

[Panther Cub]

GAH! So much suspense!

[Jayme]

Clark and Janet have a lot to discuss... I wonder how it will go.

Janet has saved Clark multiple times now so this should be interesting. I agree with Panther Cub here.

[Personalias]

I love the discussions going on.  It's giving me good flashbacks to when I first posted this.  Thanks everyone for letting me know this still holds up.

[TerranV]

6 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

He is too proud to recognize the danger and quit.

I bet he won't quit and sooner or later he'll be back in diapers, but this time permanently.  

Or he does quit, has trouble finding a new job, and it puts his financial situation and marriage in turmoil.

That could make him desperate and more prone to making mistakes

[Moon3ye]

29 minutes ago, TerranV said:

Or he does quit, has trouble finding a new job, and it puts his financial situation and marriage in turmoil.

That could make him desperate and more prone to making mistakes

I think his wife is smart enough and makes sure that both of them move to their parents in this trailer park.

Then sell the house through a broker without contact with other Amazons.

Not that they might think:
"Oh the poor little Littles can't handle the big house anymore, that shows how immature they are, best I adopt them then they can stay in their house, now in diapers of course."

No matter how it becomes more and more exciting what will happen.

[TerranV]

9 minutes ago, Moon3ye said:

I think his wife is smart enough and makes sure that both of them move to their parents in this trailer park.

Then sell the house through a broker without contact with other Amazons.

Not that they might think:
"Oh the poor little Littles can't handle the big house anymore, that shows how immature they are, best I adopt them then they can stay in their house, now in diapers of course."

No matter how it becomes more and more exciting what will happen.

That would be the inevitably I was thinking there.

[Moon3ye]

45 minutes ago, TerranV said:

That would be the inevitably I was thinking there.

Yes, but that would be the best case scenario.

First bring to safety with the parents and then without contact with the Amazons sell the house and disappear from the scene.

And with the money from the house you can probably be safe for quite a while.

[TerranV]

15 minutes ago, Moon3ye said:

Yes, but that would be the best case scenario.

First bring to safety with the parents and then without contact with the Amazons sell the house and disappear from the scene.

And with the money from the house you can probably be safe for quite a while.

For awhile anyway. Clark would need to get another job but another teaching gig might not be possible.

[Moon3ye]

12 minutes ago, TerranV said:

For awhile anyway. Clark would need to get another job but another teaching gig might not be possible.

In the chapters where they were with their parents, his wife talked about how he could also teach online and it wouldn't be noticeable that he is a Little.

[Sarah Penguin]

12 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

He is too proud to recognize the danger and quit.

I bet he won't quit and sooner or later he'll be back in diapers, but this time permanently.  

No not at the old folks home he is still way to young to end up there plus I think  he would rather be old and incontinent with his wife someplace togather.

[littlebelgianprince]

Woah I'm enjoying where this is going to. So much can happen from here.

A major red flag for the future was Janet seeing Clark in a cute diaper. And even more: Janet actually being so close and untaping his diaper... How could an amazon 'unsee' that?! One could say "Once an amazon sees you in diapers (whether you need them or not) it's game over for your adulthood." That would be 'typical' , the beginning of a slippery slope towards regression.

With the friendship between Janet and Clark in mind, and the fact that Janet almost lost Clark to another amazon, Janet might want to make her move to make sure Clark is in (her) good care before it's too late. Maybe Janet will try to convince him that it's obvious that he'll be adopted by an amazon soon anyway. By choosing for adoption by Janet voluntarily - the lesser evil - he might at least get a say about the living conditions... Regardless how sincere Janet might be, this kind of manipulation would also be 'typical'. 

Clarks' wife Cassie is an obstacle here. If she knows what happened, she might force Clark to quit his job right there and then or leave him altogether. If Clark still manages to leave the classroom as an adult little after his talk with Janet in the next chapter, this will be his next dilemma: telling Cassie what happened this day and having to leave everything behind what he built up (career, friends/colleagues...) or lose Cassie. Maybe because of what will be said in the classroom he might decide to procrastinate this confrontation with Cassie out of naivety and hope that he can still bend and control the situation. This would undoubtedly put him in more danger as it would give any amazon more time to plan a kidnapping or manipulate him further, and harm his relationship with Cassie who wouldn't accept him not telling all what happened. 

This is just my conspiracy theory and so much other stuff could happen. I'd love to see him slowly getting regressed or slowly being pushed into the arms of an amazon though ?

You can't deny how close he was to being babied forever. It seems 'typical' to me that after that struggle a mere drop of sweat in his diaper could've given the kidnapping woman the justification to take her new baby boy home.

[Personalias]

Chapter 25: The Harshest of Truths

“What are you doing with this?” I asked, flapping the Little Voices pamphlet up at my co-worker.

Janet sighed.  “Clark, maybe you should sit down.”

“No thank you,” I said.  My tone was harsh and stern, even if my words were courteous.

Janet looked away, avoiding eye contact.  “Mind if I sit down?”

I really did mind her sitting down.  But sitting down made her less likely- less able- to snatch me up.  “Go ahead.”

Three giant steps later she was sitting at a student’s desk.  Not as far away as her own on the opposite side of the entrance.  In that moment I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the same desk she’d sat in when we were all grading essays  a couple months ago.  I missed that time.  “I’m looking into adopting a Little,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I figured.” Neither of us said anything.  

I kept looking down at the pamphlet: “Adopting a Little- What to Expect The First Year.”  This shit was insidious.  The phrasing was a perverse blend of delegitimizing pseudoscience and stuff that someone might give an expectant mother at a baby shower.  “Digestive health” was paired with resources on “Comfort in Cribs: How to get your Little to sleep through the night.”  A website about “Breastfeeding=Bonding” was right above  a plug for a book called “But I USED to be a grown-up!” 

 One of my few Amazon friends, the one I thought I’d had the most in common with, had been taken in by propaganda.  Or maybe she hadn’t.  Maybe she’d always believed this and just found the right literature to echo back her own beliefs at her.

I looked up at her.  Even sitting down I had to crane my neck so as not to be making eye contact with her knees.  “So was it true?”

“Was what true?”

“What that Amazon said in the restroom?  Were you just saving me for yourself?”

She didn’t laugh like I was expecting her too.  She didn’t wave it away.  If anything she looked kind of insulted.  Kind of hurt.  “Clark.  I would never adopt you.  You’re a fully functioning, mature Little.  You’re my friend.”

“And friends don’t adopt friends?”  I spat.  “Is that it?”

“No!” she said.  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I dared to place the two pieces of the pamphlet up on the desk, even as I had to stand on my tiptoes.  When I had backed up to a safe distance.  “I’m not sure what I know, anymore.”

Janet rubbed her forehead.  She was frowning.  The gears were turning in her head.  “Is this about the carseat thing?”

“That’s part of it,” I said.  It had started with the carseat.  It might just end with this pamphlet.

“The carseat thing was stupid of me,” Janet said.  “I did get it because I was considering adoption.  But I wasn’t going to take you or anything.”

I dug my hands into the sides of my legs to stop myself from screaming or rolling my eyes.  “Then why did you invite me out?”

“Because I genuinely wanted to hang out with you,” she said.  I didn’t reply.  I just kept staring at her. Sometimes silence can be more effective than any rebuttal.  “Okay. And I wanted to maybe um... borrow you.”

So much for silence.  “BORROW ME?!” 
She held out her hand, palm facing me, to show that she wasn’t done. “Not like that! Not like that!  Sorry!”  She took a breath.  “I mean, I was thinking of making sure I got the sizing right.”  Again, she exhaled. “That was stupid and tone deaf of me.  I’m sorry.”

Not sorry enough for my liking.  “Let me get this straight,” I said, feeling braver than I should have.  “You don’t think I’m immature.  But you wanted to use me...to make sure that another Little might fit...you wanted to use me like a...like a doll.”

Janet’s eyes lit up like I’d just accused her of a crime.  She started backpedaling.   “I know what that word means!” she said. Apparently, Little Voices was also educating its audience on Little Slang, too.  “And no.  That’s not what I meant at all!  I just didn’t…I’m sorry...”   

“How do I know you weren’t trying to take me?”  I repeated.  

“Clark,” Janet said.  “A couple of hours ago, I had you.  We were alone.  In a bathroom. And you were stuck in a diaper that you needed my help to get off. If I had wanted to, I could have taken you.  Do you think Brollish would have objected?”

I didn’t have an answer to that.  I didn’t want to hear it.  So I gave no reply, just then.

That didn’t stop Janet.  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m thinking of adopting a Little girl.”

I couldn’t help it:  Images of Cassie, diapered and in some pink frilly tutu dress riding on Janet’s hip seared themselves into my brain.  My blood ran cold.  “It really doesn’t.”

“I’d never adopt a Little who’s Maturosis hasn’t expressed itself,” she promised.  “I’d only adopt a Little that needed my help.”

“WE DON’T NEED YOUR HELP! THAT’S NOT HELPING! YOU’RE STEALING US! YOU’RE TORTURING US! YOU’RE RUINING US!” 

 That’s what I wanted to yell.  That’s what I really wanted to do. Instead I asked, “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?!”  All of the clever little talking points I’d practiced or read about online had left me.  I only had anger and fear and a sense of betrayal; none of which was making me feel terribly persuasive.

“Why what?”

“Just ‘why?’,” I said.  “Why would you ever want to do this?”

Something filled up inside of Janet.  “Because I want to be a mother,” she told me.  “I always have.  It’s why I got into teaching.  It’s why I got married.” Her voice rose a bit and she sat up straighter.  She was getting a far off look in her eye.  “I’ve been trying to fill up this part of myself.  I’ve always had this instinct, this desire, this need. And so much of my life up till now has been trying to fill this void.”

“You’re a teacher,” I said.  “A role model.”

Janet missed the point.  “And that’s not enough,” she said.  “I don’t want to just help somebody else’s kid.  I want one of my own.  The divorce helped me realize it.  I need to mother someone.”

“You need to baby someone.”  I didn’t even remember saying it.  The words seemed to come from outside of me.

Janet cocked an eyebrow.  “What’s the difference?”

I just started shaking my head and couldn’t stop.  I was feeling a strange blend of fear, righteous fury, and even pity.   Janet- my friend Janet who had helped save me not once, but twice.  Who respected me as a person, and geeked out about a silly T.V. show with me and had become a growing part of my professional and personal life-  really was just a typical Amazon.  And in that moment I kind of hated her for it.

“It’s wrong,” I said.  “It’s just wrong.  And I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.”

Her arms crossed over her chest. “Mature Littles deserve all the responsibilities of everyone else,” she told me.  “I buy from Mature Littles online all the time.  At least twice a month!”

“Wow.” I said, finding my voice.  “Just wow.  Mature Littles deserve all the responsibilities of everyone else.  You keep track of how often you patronize us online.  Do you know how that sounds?  Do you?!”  I wasn’t shouting, but I was damn near close.

“Clark, I-”

“You just communicated to me that you have three types of people.  Littles, so-called Immature Littles, and everyone else.  How many Amazons do you buy from?  How many Tweeners?”

“I don’t-”

“Do you know how that sounds?!  How...how…” I cut myself off.  “And this whole Maturosis thing!  Do you hear yourself?! You say that my ‘Maturosis hasn’t expressed itself’?!”

“It hasn’t, has i-?”

“So I’m not a permanent baby yet, but I could turn into one?”

“Not all Littles-”
“Or if I never turn into one, you think I could pass it on if I ever had kids?”  I hadn’t even realized it but I was pacing, and pulling at my hair. I was ranting. “It was bad enough when I was growing up when Littles were adopted because they couldn’t conform to some bullshit idea of being an adult!”  I was definitely ranting. I didn’t care.  “We were still blamed whenever we ended up caught and diapered, but at least Amazons pretended to be fair about it.  NOW WITH THIS MATUROSIS HORSESHIT IT’S NOT A MATTER OF ‘IF’, IT’S A MATTER OF ‘WHEN’, AND IT CAN NEVER HAPPEN TO AMAZONS BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE THE IMAGINARY DISEASE! IT’S NOT FAIR!”  I even stomped my foot at the last word.

“Clark,” Janet sounded offended.  Good.  “Don’t say that kind of stuff.”

“Or what?!” I snapped. I lowered my voice down to a growl. “What are you gonna do?  Put me in time out? Spank me?”

Janet stood up and I flinched.  Actually flinched.  “I think you should go.”

I was shaking.  “I think I should too.”

I turned around and reached up for the knob.  “Wait,” she said.  “One question.”

I whipped my head around.  “What?”  The fire was burning inside of me but I had regained some measure of control.

“If you hate Amazons adopting Littles so much,” Janet asked, looking down at me.  “Why are you here?”

I wanted to tell her what I’d told Cassie time and time again.  That I was here to make a difference.  That I wanted to teach Amazons that Littles didn’t deserve to be babied.  That I was making a slow change and positive impact in my community, if not the world.  Somehow, those practiced lines all felt hollow in my head.   “What choice do I have?”

“You want to know what I think?”

I didn’t. “What?”

“You get a thrill out of it.” Janet said.  “You get a rush out of outwitting the Raine Forrests of the world.  You're a good teacher, but you just love showing off how clever you are by messing with the Amazons.  Or how brave you are by drinking Beouf’s coffee. Or how patient you can be teaching next to the Little’s classroom.  Or how fierce you can be when you make Zoge cry.  Or how hip you can be when you hang out and make jokes with Tracy.”

I stood there.  Shocked.  Speechless.

She kept going. “Everyday you come to school you’re jumping out of an airplane.  And every time, the idea that your chute might not open gets you just a tad bit excited.  And everytime it does open, you’re just a tiny bit disappointed.  If Amazons are as bad as you seem to think, you’d have never taken this job if you had an inch of common sense.”

Janet might’ve expected me to concede her point.  To say, “Maybe not all Amazons are that bad.”   What I said instead was,  “I guess I don’t have an inch of common sense, then.” 

Janet blinked.  “Clark, I like you.  But I don’t think you and I can be friends right now.”

“I agree.”

“You can go, now.”

So I did.

There are many different kinds of sex; and no I’m not referring to position, number of partners, genitals, or holes.  There’s making love where your partner or partners are so enraptured by each other that the entire world ceases to exist for however long.  There’s anger sex, where your body gets so confused with all the signals it’s receiving that it forgets the reason why the blood is pumping so hard.  Baby making is just where you’re trying to have a kid, and you’re doing your due diligence while having a good time, even though you’re trying to make something that will severely stimmy your sex drive.  There’s boredom sex when nothing is on T.V., and makeup sex when you’ve forgiven each other and breakup sex when you want that one last sweet memory (or to confirm why you’re breaking up to begin with).

Then there’s guilt sex.  When you feel guilty, because you’ve wronged someone, and you want to forget about it and apologize without admitting that you’ve done anything wrong.  Unlike many of the above listed variations on the theme, guilt sex only requires one party to be feeling guilty.  If Cassie knew how I was feeling just then and knew why, it wouldn’t have been guilt sex.  It would have been makeup sex, anger sex, or possibly even breakup sex.

But she didn’t.  She just knew it was sex.  It helped that there was nothing on T.V.

We had guilt sex because after my almost abduction/adoption and my conversation with Janet things had reached a damn near boiling point.  And if I had an inch of common sense, I would have quit my job and we would have moved into Misty Brook, at least temporarily.  We could have sold the house while we rebounded and I could have figured out what else to do with my life.

I guess I didn’t have an inch of common sense.

(End of Part 2)
 

[Panther Cub]

Oh no!

 

Seriously, you just LOVE ramping up the suspense on us, huh?

[Moon3ye]

I'll summarize it for you Clark:

YES you have NO common sense
YES you should run away with Cassidy to the trailer park.
YES you should sell the house
YES you should quit when you are safe
YES you should grow up 

[BabyJilly_S]

Just caught up, great couple of chapters.

Until Janet laid it out for him, I hadn't put all that together myself.

I thought he was playing it dangerously with Silly Sock Day but it does seem deeper than that. Has he got that adventurer/thrillseeker gene that makes people seek out dangerous situations ...?

It does now seem counter intuitive that he is so worried about getting "adopted" and yet works in a school next to a kindergarten for littles... 

[YourFNF]

This was some amazing dialogue and just like lays out the situation perfectly and how little's are seen as basically less than..... Extremely well written. Clark needs to get the fuck out of there....

[Moon3ye]

17 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

This was some amazing dialogue and just like lays out the situation perfectly and how little's are seen as basically less than..... Extremely well written. Clark needs to get the fuck out of there....

He will soon.

In diapers from a new mom directly into a beautiful nursery in the house of his new mother.

If he's lucky, he'll also drag his wife into the muck and they'll be allowed to spend the rest of their lives together as babies, brother and sister or even sister and sister.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Personalias]

PART 3  TWILIGHT OF ADULTHOOD

Chapter 26:  Beouf’s Bathroom

It was the second day back at school.  As was routine, teachers were given a full week to set up our classrooms and attend (largely pointless) staff meetings before students returned and things returned to their strange mix of manic and dull routine.  As was routine I hadn’t told Cassie anything about the last few days before summer; largely putting it out of my mind.   Spending a summer cooped up in my fortress of a house not thinking about my problems and completely vegging out was another routine.  I needed routine.

Looking down at my slight paunch, I patted my stomach and shook my head.  Most animals fattened up in winter.  It would be an annoying fall of losing weight.  But at least it was routine.  I needed this year to be routine; to go back to normal.

I needed my normal again and had spent more than one morning waking up from any number of vaguely recalled nightmares and unpleasant memory dreams.  

If you’ve read this far, three guesses as to what said nightmares and dreams involved.

“Ready to start the new year?”  Mrs. Beouf asked me from across her teacher table.  

I took another sip of coffee.  “Not yet,”  The stuff in my mug was so sugared up and filled with mocha that it was more akin to warm cocoa; just the way I liked it.  Beouf was drinking hers black, of course.  “Spent most of yesterday submitting lesson plans waaaaaay in advance.  Will probably have to modify them if my students have specific accommodations in their I.E.P.’s, but best to keep busy.”

This was routine: Pre-work coffee and small talk.  Tracy wouldn’t be in till later in the week; teaching assistants didn’t have to be on deck until Friday.   That meant that Zoge wouldn’t be in either.  More than a fair trade.  Bonus points.  WIth no buses looming down on us, we were all given more time and freedom of movement.  That meant more time to just shoot the shit first thing in the morning.  I took another sip.  “How about you?”

“Me neither.”  Beouf drained her comparatively giant mug.   “Spent most of my free time moving around the heavy stuff. Easier to do and still be kinda zonked out from vacation.”  True to form, Beouf had done a good chunk of the heavy lifting. Toy shelves were already moved back into place and tables and chairs that had been pushed against the wall for the summer were back in their proper locations.  

It didn’t look like a true classroom.  But the basic framework was in place. Beouf wiped her mouth on a paper towel. “Want some help in your room today?”   

I finished my mug and shuddered at the delightful sugar rush as the bottom gave up the last of its contents. I placed it on the hard wood with a thunk and wiped my own mouth.  “Yeah.  That’d be great.  Thanks.”  

My own room was still a ghost town of shelved chairs and learning centers stashed away in supply closets.  I’m clever, but there’s only so much I can do, physically.

“So you can show me where you want everything this morning,” Beouf said.  “Then after lunch, how about you help me with restocking some stuff?  Shelving the toys? Organizing the art center?”

I winced.  My stomach had just started to wake up with the rest of me.  “Sure,” I said.  I always took the fact that she wanted something in return for her help as a sign of respect on her part.  She could move heavy furniture.  I could rifle through cardboard boxes.  It didn’t bother my back as much, either since I didn’t have to bend down as far.

Beouf looked over my shoulder and into the nap room.  “Mind helping me make the beds in there, too?”

I looked behind me.  The lights were off, but the dark outlines of cribs show’d that they’d been moved back into their normal places.  More than any other piece of baby furniture, cribs gave me the willies.  It was a reminder that we were prisoners.  Even my students got to lay down on floor mats.  It wouldn’t take much for an Amazon to lift the rail up as I was putting a fitted sheet on a mattress.

“Sure,” I said.  It was a testament to just how much I trusted her.  I winced at a minor stomach cramp.  Nothing major.  “How was your summer?”

Beouf let out a throaty sigh.  “Ugh.  Probably the last good one I’ll have for a while.”

“Why’s that?”

“My daughter’s about ready to pop.”

Pop?  The lightbulb went on.  “Oh yeah, I forgot.  You’re about to be a grandmother. “

“Moved her and her husband back in.  Shopped around for baby furniture.  The whole shebang.”

I didn’t know much about Beouf’s family; but I knew her daughter didn’t marry a rich man.  So moving back in made sense.  Amazons could ask for help without having to worry about being diapered. “Shopped for names yet?”

Beouf shook her head.  “Not that they’re telling me.  Her and her husband want things to be a surprise.  They don’t even know if it’s gonna be a boy or a girl.  Had to buy a bunch of yellow, green and red stuff.  Pinks and blues not allowed.”

I laughed politely.  “Sounds like they want to get to know their baby first before they make any decisions about it.”

My coworker stroked her chin lightly.  “Hadn’t thought about it like that,” she admitted.  “Sounds a little bit like adoption when you put it like that.”

Damnit.  Way to go Beouf.  So typical.  Another gnawing in my gut that was only partially anxiety related.  My anxiety was only getting worse, and I needed things to get back to normal.  I badly needed it.

“Got your class roster, yet?” I asked.  It was a shit question. Pointless.  Beouf had almost a hundred percent roll over from year to year.  But it was the first thing I thought of when it came to steering the conversation away from adoption...even if it was only a half-step away.

Beouf frowned.  “Yeah…”

I arched an eyebrow and frowned as another cramp pinched my gut.  I had to get used to coffee again.  “What’s up?”

She avoided eye contact and took her glasses off.  “I went through my roster yesterday so I could stock the bathroom.  Not all my kids are coming back.”

I wanted to shrug.  ‘You’ll get new ones,’ is not something I cared to say, even in comfort to Beouf.  “Moved? Private daycare?”

“Worse,” she said.  “Taylor’s parents transferred her to New Beginnings.”

“Oh….oh wow…”  I had no idea who Taylor was. As a rule, I tried to avoid learning the names of Beouf’s ‘students’.  It was less painful that way.  Only Ivy stayed in my memory banks for long, and she didn’t really count, being Mrs. Zoge’s doll.  
I did however, know about New Beginnings.  Damn.  That poor woman.

“Her parents thought I wasn’t strict enough with her.  Her Maturosis was mild. The data around her developmental plateau was showing that she’d be better off in Pull-Ups.  Diapers only for naptime.  But they just wanted me to unpotty train that girl.”

I stayed silent. I had no idea how to attack a place like New Beginnings without attacking Beouf.  They were both doing essentially the same thing, even if Beouf was a lot gentler about it.

Beouf rubbed her eyes and replaced her glasses.  “Places like New Beginnings need to be shut down.  They don’t care about the Littles there.  They just want to make them into...into…”

“Dolls?” I offered.

“Yeah.  That.” Her tone turned angry.  “I have a Master’s in Early Childhood Education and a Bachelor’s in Child Psychology with a minor in Maturosis and Developmental and Emotional Plateaus. Some people just want me to be a torturer.“  She looked at me.  “I love my students.  I really do.  They’re my babies, too.”  The most painful part of it is she really believed it.

“Yeah,” I said.  “That sucks about Taylor.  I’m sorry.”  That part wasn’t a lie at least.  Just not for the reason  she might’ve thought.

“Thanks,” Beouf said.  She stood up.  “Ready to get to tell me where to move stuff?”

“Yeah…” I copied her, and instantly regretted it.  Something shifted around.  I clenched my stomach and gritted my teeth.

“I know that look,” Beouf said. “Bathroom’s over there.” My eyes were still closed, but I knew where she was pointing.  Internally I did the math.  I could probably make it back to my own bathroom.  Probably.  Maybe. “Clark?”  Maybe if the door into my room wasn’t closed and I didn’t have to stop  “Clark?  Can you hear me?  Mr. Gibson?”

That did it.  Cheeks clenched, I ran to the class bathroom, quietly praying that I’d make it.  It was a close one.  The kind where things were pretty much on their way out and plopping into the bowl before my ass had completely settled around the rim.

I seemed to exhale from both ends at the same time, opening my eyes only after the first tidal wave of cramps passed out of me.  The fuck was that about?! You abstain from coffee for two and a half months and the first cup hits your gut like a jackhammer! 

 Tenuously, I opened my eyes and looked down at my boxers.  Spotless.  Good.  No excuse.  It’s not that I didn’t trust Beouf; it’s just that I only trusted her so far.  She’d just seen a Little run off into her kiddie bathroom, and was bemoaning a missing student.  Ten years had bought her the benefit of the doubt, from me.

“Clark?” she called.  “Mr. Gibson?”

I turned my head to the side and felt my pulse quicken.  I’d forgotten to close the door!  Rookie mistake, Clark!  Rookie mistake!  The door opened outward too!  It was so big that I’d have to step out to close it!  It didn’t even open in a way that I could use it as a barrier.  It was either waddle out with my pants around my ankles (a non-option) or finish, redress, and then close it; (pointless).

I was so...so...vulnerable.  So incredibly vulnerable.  If Forrest or Brollish- even Janet, I told myself- had caught me like this, they would have had ample cause to adopt me on the spot.

“Mr. Gibson?”  My title and last name were something of a safeword. Beouf didn’t call the Littles in her class Mr. or Miss.  All the same, I couldn’t help but clench up.

“I’m in here…” I said.  “I’m fine.”  That was a lie.  This was not fine.  But fake it till you make it.

“Okay,” she said.  “I’ll give you some privacy.  Meet you in your room?” 

“Sure.”  I heard the heavy door to her classroom open and then close shut. Both ends of me sighed in relief.  Ugh.  I gave myself a courtesy flush.

I’d never been in Beouf’s bathroom before.  Not surprising, all things considered, but in the quiet of the moment I took a minute to observe.  It wasn’t that different from mine, actually.  Roughly the same dimensions.

The toilet that I sat on was, in fact, a toilet; and not a potty.  It was hooked up to the plumbing.  No cutesy decorations.  Near as I could see, it was the same white porcelain and black seat, too.  Nothing too infantile.  It was sized for me, but so was the toilet in my classroom.

That probably meant it was very clean, considering how long it had been since it had been used.  Last person who had tried to use it was about to be shipped to Oakshire’s premier public brainwashing facility; and that was months ago.  Beouf certainly wouldn’t want to use it; her knees would almost go up to her chest, funny image though that was.

No.  This toilet was here simply because it was mandated that this room have a toilet in it; even if after today no one was going to be allowed to use it.  The Amazons did love their insane rules and plays at fairness.  Also, who knows; once upon a time, an architect or contractor might have thought that there’d be a big enough Pre-Kindergarten population to warrant two tiny toilets.

The only difference between Beouf’s bathroom and my own was the furniture.  Straight ahead of me, looming over me, in fact, was a giant, sturdy, unmovable changing table.  It was a heavy thing; at least as thick and almost as wide as my own teacher’s desk.  It was taller to boot.  It took up most of the bathroom.  Unlike my father-in-law, my spatial awareness wasn’t the best, but chances were only a single Amazon could squeeze in here at a time.  Them and whatever Little they were diapering, anyways.  

The cabinet in front of me was already stocked, because of course it was.  Wipes and baby powder were in the upper levels for easy Amazonian reach mid changing. At the foot end, a packet of wipes was already resting in a little nook near the edge.  

The lower shelves were of course, already stacked with diapers.  White ones. Colored ones. Plain ones.  Decorated ones.  All arranged in neat and tidy stacks of four or five.  Beneath each stack, was a piece of masking tape and a Little’s name written beneath.

Chaz. Ivy. Tommy. Shauna. Mandy. Billy. Sandra Lynn. Jesse. Annie.  There but for the grace of some capricious and fickle god go I.  These were leftovers from last year, I knew.  Their so-called parents hadn’t bothered to take the diapers home because most of the Littles would be coming back at the end of summer.  Beouf hadn’t bothered to throw them out, because it’s not as if her ‘students’ would grow out of them.  Ever.

Taylor’s actually had some Pull-Ups on top.  Poor girl wouldn’t even get that much at New Beginnings.  I wondered who would replace her.  Someone always did, it seemed.

Idly, I craned my neck up and away and caught sight of my reflection.  That was weird.  Why would there be a mirror on the ceiling?  Maybe to make sure that whatever Amazon was on diaper duty didn’t miss a spot?  But that didn’t make sense.

Best not to dwell on it, I decided.  I finished and cleaned myself up; even daring to snag an Amazon sized baby wipe, just in case.  Beouf was on my side now, but a skid mark was practically a death sentence. It all got flushed down the toilet anyways; and it’s not like anybody counted wipes.  That’d be like counting squares of toilet paper.  

Come to think of it, how old was this bathroom’s toilet paper?

It was a morbid and fatalistic curiosity that overtook me when I pulled one of Chaz’s diapers from the top of the stack and looked at it.  Chaz, the last fellow Little that had gotten my bullshit “find a way to quietly rebel” speech.  Poor kid.  Literally.  Most of us got at least a taste of adulthood before one of the giants took an unhealthy interest in us.  

Chaz probably still had his peach fuzz before a laser zapped it off his lip for ever.  Pubes too.  Now all of his underwear crinkled and had balloons on the butt; and the only thing that would change that is if his captors switched to a new brand.  

I shuddered at the thought and placed it back on top of the stack.  Not me.  Never me.

I flushed and walked back through to my classroom.  Mrs. Beouf had been considerate enough to leave the doors open for me and was waiting.  I hadn’t yet attached my pull-chords.  “Ready to get started?” I asked.

“Did you remember to wash your hands?”  She sounded like a mother just before supper time.

My mind went on full alert.  My body didn’t even miss a beat.  I made a hurried but confident bee-line for the step stool in front of my classroom sink.  “Sink in your bathroom is a little high, actually,” I lied.

“Yeah?” my coworker asked.  I was gambling that she didn’t pay attention to how tall or short the sink was.  Like the toilet, it was something that was largely ignored in her class.

“That and I didn’t want to take soap from your classroom,” I added.  “Your guys need soap too.”

My gamble paid off. “Nah,” Mrs. Beouf waved my remark off.  “We stick mostly to wipes and hand sanitizer in my room. Mrs. Zoge and I are the only ones who wash our hands, and we use the bigger sink.”

I figured as much, but the faux consideration made the lie more believable.  Beouf was talking to me like I was a person again; not a doll.

“Where do you want these chairs to go?” she asked.
 

[Sarah Penguin]

[Panther Cub]

GAH! More suspense!

 

Also, I honestly have forgotten... has Clark ever mentioned in his narration portal littles?

[Moon3ye]

Yes, but I have decided. Clark is an idiot and brings himself and his wife with his pride so what of in the future in diapers that it only wonders whether it will be a nice mom or a mean mom.

After what happened before the summer he should have run away and should teach online where he can pretend to be an Amazon and live together with his family in the trailer park.

BUT no he has to continue teaching there. Any other Amazon would have let him run straight into the knife and adopted him, he sometimes has no idea what good friends he has.