diaper dimension Dimension of Destiny - Chapter 17: The gathering tempest (24/04/26)

[Ericc]

Big shoutout to BabySofia for allowing me a special journey at Emerson…

 

Prologue

Prologue

I double-checked the stack of papers on my desk, the sheen of the ticket to Amazonia catching the afternoon light filtering through the window. My thumb brushed over the official seal stamped on the invitation from Emerson University. It was real, as real as the hum of excitement in my veins.

"Hey, Bix, look what happened!" Eric's voice, laced with a hint of mischief, pulled me from my reverie.

I turned to see him holding up a mangled action figure, its arm hanging by a thread. "You didn't 'accidentally' step on it again, did you?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

His sheepish grin betrayed him. "Maybe it fought one too many battles?"

With a chuckle, I took the toy from his outstretched hand. "Superheroes need a break too, you know." In no time, I had the arm secured back in place.

Eric snatched the figure back with a grin. "You're the best, Bix!"

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. "Alright, time to gear up for bed."

He groaned, dragging his feet like he was wading through mud. "But I don't wanna…”

"You know the drill," I said firmly. "No discussion."

Pouting, Eric trudged off to his room and returned moments later, his posture slumped but his Drynite in place under his pajamas.

I gave him a quick once-over. "Good job." A nod of approval and he beamed like he'd won a medal.

We settled into the couch as the screen flickered to life with his favorite animated adventure. Our mom would be home soon to join us—just another evening for us Echavoyen boys. 

 ——

Eric snuggled closer, his head resting against my side. The heroes on screen leaped and dodged with impossible grace, but I could feel the tension in Eric's small frame.

"Bix," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the action unfolding on TV. "You're gonna be so far away. What if I can't talk to you?"

I pulled out the sleek, dedicated phone from my pocket and waved it gently in front of him. "Got this just for us, kiddo. We'll chat every day. Pinky promise."

His eyes lit up, reflecting the colors dancing across the screen. "For real?"

"Cross my heart." I hooked my pinky with his, sealing the deal.

As the show reached its climax, I glanced down at Eric's waistline. Absently, my hand patted his hip, checking the Drynite beneath his pajamas.

Eric caught my motion and giggled. "Still dry, Bix! No leaks!"

"Good job, little bro." My words might've been casual, but pride swelled in my chest. It was one less thing for him to worry about with me gone.

He beamed up at me, all worry momentarily forgotten as we lost ourselves in the world of capes and daring rescues.

The credits rolled, and the room was filled with a silence that seemed louder than the show's final explosions. I glanced down at Eric, his eyelids heavy, fighting the inevitable. "C'mon, time to hit the hay," I murmured, scooping him up in my arms. He mumbled a protest but nestled into my shoulder, his breaths deepening.

As I carried him to his room, the softness of his hair against my cheek reminded me how much I'd miss these little moments. His room was a fortress of blankets and plush toys, a sanctuary for a ten-year-old with an imagination as vast as the sea outside our door. Gently, I laid him down on his bed, the action figure from earlier clutched in his hand like a talisman.

With practiced ease, I checked his Drynite one last time—no dampness, no telltale warmth of an accident. A small victory for him and a relief for me. "Stay dry for me while I'm gone, okay?" I whispered more to myself than to him.

His response was a sleepy nod as he turned onto his side, still half in the realm of dreams. Leaning over, I planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight, Eric," I said softly.

I flicked off the light and closed the door behind me with a quiet click. My room awaited me—a tangle of clothes and scattered textbooks. The weight of my upcoming journey pressed on my shoulders like the gravity of another world.

Collapsing onto my bed, thoughts of Amazonia and its giants swirled in my mind. But as I lay there in the dark, exhaustion crept over me like an incoming tide. My eyelids grew heavy and soon, without even intending to, I slipped into sleep's embrace.

The illusion of normalcy

Chapter 1

The hum of the car's engine played a soothing backdrop to my racing heart. Every kilometer we covered, the weight of my anticipation grew, pressing against my chest like a physical force. Mom's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, her eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to catch glimpses of Eric and me.

"Almost there," she murmured, as much to herself as to us.

Eric, perched on the edge of his seat, clutched the contraption I'd given him. His fingers danced over the gears and levers, eyes narrowed in concentration. I couldn't help but smile at his determination.

"What does this do, Bix?" he asked, fumbling with a particularly stubborn cog.

I leaned back, crossing my arms behind my head. "You've got six months to figure it out."

He huffed, a playful scowl forming on his face. "That's not fair! Give me a hint!"

"Nope," I replied with a smirk. "Where's the fun in that?"

Mom chuckled, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror again. "Bixente, don't tease your brother too much."

"Aw, come on, Mom. It's part of the charm of being siblings, you know big bro little bro thingies”

Eric finally managed to rotate the cog, which triggered a series of clicks and whirrs within the device. His face lit up like he'd discovered fire. "Did you hear that? It did something!"

I leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "The first secret unlocked."

Mom took a turn into the University of Bordeaux campus with practiced ease. My heart leapt; this was it—the gateway to Amazonia was just within reach.

"You sure you packed everything?" Mom asked as she parked.

"Three times over," I assured her. "Can't be too careful when stepping into another universe."

Eric snorted and muttered something about forgetting my brain.

I ruffled his hair. "Better not forget your padding at night while I'm gone." It was an old jab but delivered with affection that only brothers understand.

Eric swatted my hand away but couldn't hide his grin. "Yeah? And you better not wet yourself from excitement over there."

We all laughed—a mixture of nerves and joy—as I shouldered my bag and stepped out of the car. Mom followed suit and wrapped me in a hug so tight it could've rivaled any Amazonian embrace.

"Be safe," she whispered.

"I will." I hugged her back just as fiercely.

Then it was Eric's turn. He looked up at me with those big eyes that held worlds within them—worlds I was about to leave behind for a while.

"I'll figure this out before you're back," he said, holding up the contraption with determined pride.

"I don't doubt it for a second," I replied, giving him one last squeeze.

With their goodbyes still warming my ears, I turned towards destiny—towards Amazonia—and didn't look back.

 

I tread across the university courtyard, each step echoing with the promise of the unknown. The scene around me buzzes like a beehive on a summer day. Students clutch their loved ones in drawn-out embraces, murmurs of encouragement blending with the rustle of luggage and the soft thuds of back-pats. I drink it all in—the poignant mix of excitement and sorrow that hangs heavy in the air.

Some, like me, are solo travelers, their eyes reflecting a fierce kind of solitude. It's in these solitary figures I find a kinship, each of us about to step into a world that'll stretch our very sense of self.

A group of girls nearby giggle nervously, one biting her lip as she scans a holographic checklist projected from her wristband. Her gaze catches mine, and for a brief moment, we share an unspoken understanding before she turns back to her friends.

Taking a deep breath, I adjust my backpack and head towards the portal's entrance. The building looms ahead—a fusion of stone and steel cradling the gate to Amazonia within its modern embrace. My hand grazes the sleek surface of the door as it slides open silently, welcoming me into its depths.

Inside, the air is cooler, tinged with an electric charge that makes my hair stand on end. I follow the signs to the departure lounge, my steps measured and deliberate. Walls adorned with vivid murals depict scenes from Amazonia—towering figures walking alongside lush vegetation that dwarfs even them.

A voice breaks through my reverie, "You look ready for an adventure." I turn to see an attendant with a knowing smile. She hands me a pamphlet—'Your Guide to Amazonia: What to Expect.' I offer her a grateful nod and tuck it into my pocket for later.

Ahead lies the portal corridor; it beckons like an outstretched hand. The threshold pulses with energy that seems alive, whispering secrets of what lies beyond.

I pause at its entrance. This is it—the cusp of everything new. My pulse quickens as I step forward into the corridor's embrace, leaving behind the echoes of farewells and stepping toward a chorus of hellos that await in another world.

[Guilend]

Very good start. I'd even say you're getting better. The bit of world building there is great. 

[Ericc]

Thanks  

[Moon3ye]

It will be interesting to see where this leads.

[Baby Billy]

This sounds interesting, I have a feeling he is not from our dimension though.  I think BabySofia would be pleased with the opening.

[TBCuri]

Nice start 😃👍

[kerry]

It does not seem as if he is aware of the, um, unusual proclivities of Amazons, or the fact that over there he will be a Little. I wonder why not...

[Ericc]

2 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

This sounds interesting, I have a feeling he is not from our dimension though.  I think BabySofia would be pleased with the opening.

He is from a on area south west of France, close to Spain. (https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pays_basque_français) his name could be translated like Vincent.

@kerrywait and see little one…

[SGTbaby]

Looks good 

[Ericc]

The air crackled with anticipation, and I couldn't help but let out a low whistle. There I stood, cradling the leaflet like it held the blueprint to my future. Eyes glued to the glossy print, I reread the words that promised more than just education; they whispered of a new era.

"Discover a World of Exceptional Learning at Emerson University," the header proclaimed, and my heart skipped a beat. The words painted pictures of a metropolis pulsating with intellect, where the mundane bowed before the magnificent.

A Tradition of Excellence: The phrase alone had my chest swelling with pride. Quantum Engineering, Kenari Linguistics—my mind buzzed with possibilities. I could already see myself, lost in thought among holographic simulations or thumbing through ancient texts in expansive digital libraries.

Inclusive Learning Environment: A smirk tugged at my lips. Vibrant Earthlings—that's what they called us, like exotic birds amidst Amazonian giants. The promise of support for every student was a balm to the flicker of unease about my place among them.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: My fingers traced over the words as if I could feel the texture of knowledge within their curves. Holographic simulations and digital libraries—it was like diving into a science fiction novel and calling it home.

Transformative Social Structure: This bit made me pause. Nurturing atmosphere? Guidance and protection? It sounded more like coddling than empowering. Yet, I couldn't deny the allure of being part of something bigger, of finding my destiny.

Enroll Today at Emerson University: A chuckle escaped me. 'Secure your place among the giants of tomorrow.' They had no idea how literal that sounded to someone like me—just shy of 1.85 meters and standing on the cusp of their world.

As I lowered the leaflet, I caught sight of an attendant gesturing toward me—it was my turn to step deeper into this brave new world. Folding the paper carefully and tucking it into my pocket, I straightened up.

I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. With each step forward, I felt the weight of reality sink in. This wasn't just another school; this was Emerson University in Amazonia—a place where imagination meets destiny, where I'd either soar among giants or lose myself trying.

Discover a World of Exceptional Learning at Emerson University

Expand Your Horizons Beyond the Ordinary

At Emerson University, situated in the heart of the cascading metropolis of Amazonia, we invite you to pioneer an academic adventure like no other. Immerse yourself in a world where cutting-edge technology and innovative pedagogy unite to unlock the full potential of every student.

A Tradition of Excellence:

Emerson University, renowned for our esteemed faculty and expansive curriculum, stands at the vanguard of intellectual exploration and technological prowess. Here, you can delve into diverse fields, from Quantum Engineering to Kenari Linguistics, and be part of a thriving community dedicated to shaping the future.

Inclusive Learning Environment:

We welcome individuals of all backgrounds, including the vibrant Earthlings who add unique perspectives to our melting pot of cultures. Our commitment to providing a supportive environment ensures that each student—whether a towering Amazon, an industrious 'Tweener, or a tenacious Little—finds the pathway to their destiny.

State-of-the-Art Facilities:

Advanced laboratories equipped with holographic simulations

Expansive digital libraries housing millennia of knowledge

Recreational domains for physical and mental well-being

Transformative Social Structure:

At Emerson, we do more than encourage academic growth; we foster personal transformation within our societal framework. Earthlings experience a nurturing atmosphere, with guidance and protection at the forefront of our educational ethos. Opportunities abound, both within the university and in the broader context of Amazonian society.

Enroll Today at Emerson University:

Join a network of pioneers\—be at the forefront of discovery and innovation.

Benefit from one-on-one mentorship—gain insights from leading scholars and industry specialists.

Make your mark—contribute to a society where your achievements resonate across dimensions.

Secure your place among the giants of tomorrow. Apply now to embark on an unparalleled educational journey at Emerson University—an institution where destinies unfold, and dreams take flight.

Visit our admissions portal or contact our Earthling Liaison Office for information tailored to your journey from Earth to Amazonia.

Emerson University – Where Imagination Meets Destiny!’

[Guilend]

25 minutes ago, Ericc said:

Earthlings experience a nurturing atmosphere, with guidance and protection at the forefront of our educational ethos

I like how in this paragraph they only said Earthlings and not everyone like the part a few paragraphs above this. Lol I call that a red flag lol.

Good chapter. 

[Ericc]

 

My name reverberated across the space, a signal slicing through the haze of expectation. A mix of excitement and anxiety churned within me, eating away at my core. This was the turning point, where the future rested on a clear call to action. Rising from the bench, I stood upright, ignoring the shake in my legs. "Bixente Echavoyen," I muttered to myself, a quiet incantation to calm my pounding pulse.
Approaching the interview chamber, I mentally practiced each piece of information I had packed into my head. The door hinges moaned as I swung it open, unveiling an office permeated with the scent of fresh paper and gleaming timber.
A representative from Emerson sat across a desk that resembled a barricade, occupying the room with an aura of authority yet tranquility—a true Titan in my view. The precision of his attire indicated extreme attention to detail, while his light but penetrating stare seemed to see right through me.

Summoning all my courage, I locked eyes with him. "Bixente Echavoyen," I declared, my tone disguising the inner turmoil.
He gave a single nod, a gesture that prepared the ground for what lay ahead. "Take a seat, Bixente," he said, his voice smooth with an undercurrent that this was more than mere routine.
I took my place in the chair across from him, reminiscent of slipping into a pilot's seat—a familiar sense of command mixed with the weight of duty. The chair's leather groaned, a sonic indicator that every action here was consequential.

"Now," he started, clasping his hands atop the desk as though presenting an unseen chart between us. "Explain why you aspire to be part of our community at Emerson University."
My throat felt parched; the critical moment was upon us. Yet, as I peered into his eyes—eyes that had probably witnessed numerous aspirants—I discovered a spark of determination.
"I seek more than mere education," I asserted. "My aim is to forge connections—among realms, concepts... individuals."
His face remained inscrutable, yet a subtle glimmer of either intrigue or challenge appeared. It kindled something deep within me.
I edged forward a bit, hands resting on my legs. "And Emerson," I added with increased passion, "is the birthplace of such connections."

We sat in a brief silence before he acknowledged once more with a nod.
"Very well," he stated, reaching for a dossier on his desk. "Let's commence."
He slid out a pile of documents, fingertips skimming the margins akin to a musician preparing for a performance. The space seemed to contract as he flipped through my scholastic history, every turn of the page marking time, each moment resonating with the beats of my pulse. Thoughts rushed to every assessment, each exhaustive night poring over texts in the weak light of my desk lamp. Had I overlooked something? Was there a minor detail that could dismantle everything?
His gaze lifted from the papers, locking with mine. "Your academic performance is impressive, Bixente," he stated, with a note of astonishment in his voice that I might have conjured. "Yet, how do you fare with practical tasks? Book smarts are one aspect, direct involvement is quite another."

I sat up straight, prepared to demonstrate my capabilities beyond the written record. "I've dedicated innumerable hours in the workshop," I declared confidently. "Experimenting, crafting, repairing ever since I was able to wield a tool. To me, mechanics isn't merely theoretical; it's ingrained in my very being."
He arched an eyebrow, remaining silent as he reviewed the papers once again. It was a minor triumph, yet I held onto it tightly.
Next was the power of attorney form, the symbol of my autonomy in this immense new realm. His penetrating scrutiny persisted as he examined every word of the form. I sensed I was being intensely observed, each inhale and exhale measured for its consistency and depth.
"Do you grasp the significance of this form?" he inquired, eyes still on the document.
"Undoubtedly," I answered, imbuing my tone with assurance that masked my apprehension. "It signifies my transition, my pledge to this path."

At last, he placed the documents aside and offered another nod—his action signaling affirmation. My shoulders dropped a fraction; a sensation of relief escaped me like the slow deflation of a tire.
"All seems to be correct," he remarked without flourish. "Welcome to Emerson University."
Those words echoed in my consciousness—a summons to a journey filled with both promise and the unknown. My existence was on the brink of transformation beyond what I could truly grasp.
"Thank you," I uttered, maintaining composure amid the internal tempest. "I will not disappoint you."
With a subsequent, barely noticeable nod, he signaled the beginning of my next step in orientation. Rising and approaching the doorway, my footsteps felt more buoyant than they had previously.
 

* * *

The rep's nod, stiff as a board, ushers me toward the door marked "Health Check." My hand grazes the cold metal handle, and I push through. Heart drumming a wild rhythm against my ribs, I step over the threshold. 
Inside, the room unfolds like a scene from a sci-fi flick, gleaming equipment and screens casting a sterile glow. A tech with hair pulled back so tight it could snap stands clipboard in hand, eyes sharp as a hawk's.
"Name?"
"Bixente Echavoyen."
She ticks off something on her board and gestures to a chair that looks more like a throne from the future. "Sit. We'll start with your vitals."
I lower myself onto the chair, arms resting on cold metal sidebars. The chair hums to life as cuffs wrap around my biceps, squeezing gently.
"Blood pressure normal," she announces, her voice void of any warmth.
Next comes a gadget that beeps over my chest – checking my heart, I guess. 
"Heart rate's a bit high. Nervous?"
"Aren't I supposed to be?"
She doesn't smile. Instead, she motions me to follow her to another station where a device scans me head to toe.
"Height and weight within acceptable range for Earthling standards," she mutters, scribbling more notes.
We move through each test – blood drawn, reflexes checked, vision screened – each beep and scribble cranks up the tension in my gut.
"Ever been through anything like this before?" I ask, trying to cut through the silence.
"Routine for all travelers," she replies curtly. "Precautionary measures."

A new contraption looms ahead; it's like an oversized helmet attached to a nest of wires. She sees me eyeing it.
"Neurological sync check," she explains. "It'll align your brainwaves with Amazonian frequencies."
The helmet lowers onto my head with a soft whirr. A faint buzzing tickles my scalp.
"All set," she declares after a moment that stretches long enough for me to question what 'all set' really means.
As we round up the tests, my anticipation spikes alongside my nerves. Each check is another step closer to Amazonia – another step away from everything familiar.

With each test marked complete on her clipboard, the tech leads me back to the door.
"You're cleared for travel," she says, handing me a badge with my name and picture on it. "This is your ID and health pass."
Taking the badge, I can't help but feel like it's more than just plastic and print – it's the ticket to my new life. 
She escorts me towards another door at the end of the room. My future waits just beyond it – immense and unknowable.
I swallow hard. "What's next?"
"The portal," she says as if it's just another routine step in this otherworldly process.
My throat tightens around words I can't quite find as I inch closer to the shimmering gateway that will rocket me into the unknown.
 

[Kat5]

On 12/19/2023 at 4:47 AM, Ericc said:

Earthlings experience a nurturing atmosphere

Oh, you bet they get the nurturing of their lives!

[LittleFenny]

7 hours ago, Ericc said:

"Neurological sync check," she explains. "It'll align your brainwaves with Amazonian frequencies."
The helmet lowers onto my head with a soft whirr. A faint buzzing tickles my scalp.
"All set," she declares after a moment that stretches long enough for me to question what 'all set' really means.

Oh my, are they starting to work on the hypnosis before the new students even make it to the other side of the portal now? Because I'm not sure I trust that helmet one bit.

7 hours ago, Ericc said:

"This is your ID and health pass."
Taking the badge, I can't help but feel like it's more than just plastic and print – it's the ticket to my new life. 

They just wont mention that the health pass portion includes what Little helper medicines are most compatible with your body, which diapers will fit best, and the I-don't-believe-it-is-innocent helmet's analysis of which hypnosis techniques will be most effective at preparing you to shift your major at Emerson over to Little Studies (a set of classes that are quite difficult to tell apart from kindergarten and daycare).

Have a follow, this looks like it should be interesting.

[ABAlex]

Thats an intense cover for an AB story  

[Ericc]

18 hours ago, LittleFenny said:

Oh my, are they starting to work on the hypnosis before the new students even make it to the other side of the portal now? Because I'm not sure I trust that helmet one bit.

Why the worries ? It’s just a scalp massage system for relaxing traveler, nothing more… Honest!

14 hours ago, ABAlex said:

Thats an intense cover for an AB story  

Perfect fit  

Next chapter tomorrow…

[Ericc]

 

The door at the front of the room hissed open, and a man stepped through. His presence commanded immediate silence, and the weight of a hundred gazes fell upon him. He wore a uniform crisp as a fresh sheet of paper, with a badge that glinted under the fluorescent lights.

    "Good morning, everyone," he announced, his voice steady and sure. "I'm Leo, your technician for today's journey."

A collective breath seemed to leave the room, a silent orchestra of exhales. We leaned in, a forest of bodies bending towards the sun of his words.

Leo paced before us, hands clasped behind his back. "The portal you're about to step through is the result of years of scientific breakthroughs and engineering marvels." He gestured to a chart that flickered to life on the wall, diagrams and equations dancing across it. "It's like walking through water – resistance will increase until it culminates at the threshold between our world and Amazonia."

I squinted at the chart, my mind racing to dissect the information, to understand the gears behind the magic.

    "The path is lined with a biomimetic membrane," Leo continued, pointing at a cross-section of the tunnel-like structure. "It adapts to your biological signature, ensuring a seamless transition."

A guy next to me whispered under his breath, "Sounds like stepping into a sci-fi movie."

Leo's lips twitched in a small smile as if he heard every muffled comment. "In many ways, it is. But I assure you, it's very real." He paused for effect, letting his gaze sweep over us once more. "Any questions before we begin?"

A hand shot up from the girl with silver hair. "Will it hurt?" Her voice wavered slightly.

Leo shook his head. "No pain involved. Think of it as... an intense pressure change, like diving deep underwater."

My heart thumped against my ribs as I imagined stepping into that shimmering corridor. It was as if I could already feel the thickening air around me.

"And once we're through?" someone else called out.

    "On the other side," Leo explained, "you'll be gently propelled forward into Amazonia – into your new life."

The room erupted into murmurs again; some sounded thrilled, others anxious. I felt both emotions churning inside me like twin engines propelling me forward.

This was it – my love for mechanics had always been about piecing together puzzles, solving problems with tangible solutions. But now I was about to become part of something beyond my wildest calculations – an intricate dance of nature and technology that would whisk me away from everything familiar.

Leo's explanation had turned apprehension into awe for me; every word he spoke was another gear clicking into place. This was more than an adventure; it was destiny calling my name in code and circuitry.

As Leo moved towards the portal's entrance and beckoned us to follow, I rose from my seat with newfound resolve shining in my eyes. The journey ahead was unknown, but one thing was certain: I was ready to dive in headfirst.

 

 

"Alright, listen up!" Leo's voice sliced through the hum of voices, snapping me back to the moment. "Before you step into the portal, you'll need to place your luggage on the conveyor here." He gestured toward a sleek belt that hummed with quiet efficiency.

I craned my neck, watching as a few ahead of me lifted their bags onto the belt. The conveyor seemed to swallow their belongings, escorting them into the belly of some unseen beast.

    "The system is designed for your safety," Leo continued. "It scans and transports your items directly to your assigned living quarters in Emerson."

A hand shot up from a girl a couple of rows ahead. "What if it loses our stuff?" Her voice wobbled with the worry I felt clawing at my gut.

Leo offered a reassuring smile. "The technology is fail-safe; nothing gets lost. Think of it as a guardian for your goods."

My fingers drummed against my thigh. The term 'fail-safe' always seemed too confident, like daring fate to prove you wrong.

Leo's gaze landed on me, and I realized I'd been staring at the conveyor, lost in thought. "You okay there?"

I nodded, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just taking it all in."

    "Understandable," he said, eyes softening for a moment. "This is no small step you're taking."

As my turn approached, I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder and approached the conveyor. The bag contained more than clothes and gadgets; it was stuffed with memories of home – Eric's mischievous grin, Mom's comforting embrace, the scent of sea air mixed with engine oil from our garage.

With a deep breath that did little to steady my racing heart, I lifted my luggage onto the belt. It felt heavier than it had moments ago, laden with the weight of what I was leaving behind.

I watched as it trundled away, vanishing into the portal's machinery. My heart hitched slightly – this was real. There was no turning back now.

"So what's next?" I asked Leo, my voice betraying none of the bittersweet turmoil inside.

    "Now," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that bordered on solemn, "you step through the portal yourself. Just follow the path laid out for you and remember: keep moving forward until you feel that final push."

"Final push?" The words echoed in my head like a drumbeat.

    "Yes," he said with a nod. "That's when you'll know you've arrived in Amazonia."

The finality of it all loomed over me like a giant wave ready to crash down. But instead of fear, a spark of something fierce ignited within me – curiosity mixed with determination.

    "Alright then," I said, squaring my shoulders as if bracing against an invisible force. "Let's do this."

I leaned against the cool metal wall, arms crossed, eyes tracking each person as they approached the portal. The machine, a marvel of gleaming chrome and pulsating light, seemed to breathe with a life of its own. Some walked with hesitant steps, others with a bold stride, but all shared the same look—a cocktail of fear and exhilaration that danced across their features.

My heart thudded against my ribcage, each beat a drumroll counting down to my turn. I watched as a guy ahead of me disappeared into the corridor, his shoulders squared in an attempt to mask his anxiety. I wondered if I'd manage to look that composed when my name echoed through the room.

    "Bixente Echavoyen!"

The sound of my name cut through the air like a signal flare. I straightened up, my heartbeat quickening to match the urgency in that call. This was it—the moment I'd been waiting for, fantasizing about through sleepless nights and long days.

"Let's go, Bixente," Leo beckoned with a nod toward the entrance.

I inhaled deeply, the air filling my lungs like liquid courage. "Ready as I'll ever be," I muttered more to myself than to Leo.

The machine loomed large before me as I approached, its surface alive with an iridescent shimmer that promised wonders beyond comprehension. The closer I got, the more tangible the anticipation became; it clung to my skin like static electricity.

    "Remember," Leo's voice anchored me back to reality, "walk until you feel the pressure peak and then let it take you through."

I nodded, swallowing hard against the dryness in my throat. My feet carried me forward, each step deliberate and measured. The threshold of the portal beckoned me closer, an invisible siren calling me toward a destiny unknown.

The corridor stretched out like a tunnel to tomorrow. With every step, I could feel the air thickening around me, wrapping me in a cocoon of potential and possibility. My ears filled with the sound of my own breathing—steady and determined—as I plunged deeper into the embrace of this technological wonder.

My hands reached out instinctively as if to grasp onto reality one last time before letting go. But there was nothing to hold onto—only the promise of what lay ahead.

And then it happened—the pressure crescendoed around me like an ocean wave reaching its zenith before crashing down upon the shore. It was as if I was being pushed and pulled at once, caught in a dance between worlds that knew no bounds.

I closed my eyes for a moment and surrendered to the sensation. When I opened them again, ready for whatever came next, Emerson awaited on the other side.

[Guilend]

Hopefully a few of the Amazon's spend some time in diapers for being naughty. I can't wait to see what happens next. Especially what differences there are in how they punish Littles, Tweeners(if they're in your story) abd Amazons and if in some circumstances an Amazon would be punished the same as a Little.

[SGTbaby]

What surprises awai!

[Ericc]

Chapter 2: The Amazonian secret 

A flash of white light, a soft whirring sound, and then, like waking from a dream, I found myself in Amazonia. My feet touched the ground, but it wasn't just the solidness beneath me that felt different; the air buzzed with a charge I'd never known.

I barely had time to gather my bearings when she approached—Nurse Ania, her lab coat stretching down an impossibly long frame. She towered over me like a skyscraper, her eyes level and professional.

"Welcome to Emerson Mr. Echavoyen. I'm Nurse Ania. I'll be conducting your initial health screening. If you would please follow me."

Her voice was an odd comfort, human in tone despite the towering form it came from. I nodded, my own voice caught somewhere between awe and uncertainty.

As we walked into the examination room, it was like stepping into a world scaled for giants. The medical equipment loomed large and intimidating. A chill crept up my spine as I realized how small I must look to her.

Nurse Ania gestured to an examination table that seemed more like a platform for displaying art than anything medical.

"Please hop up here," she said with clinical detachment.

I glanced at the table and then at my own legs. The realization hit me with a thud—I couldn't reach it on my own. My cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. For a moment, I stood frozen, grappling with the admission of needing help.

"Um," I started, clearing my throat. "Could you give me a hand?"

Nurse Ania turned, her expression unreadable for a moment before softening just slightly. She extended her hand—a hand that could envelop mine twice over—and gently lifted me onto the table as if I weighed nothing more than a feather.

Settled on the cold surface of the examination table, I exhaled slowly. The first hurdle in this strange new world had been crossed with unexpected grace thanks to Nurse Ania's towering presence.

Nurse Ania flicked on the overhead lights, and they buzzed to life, casting a sterile glow over the room. She worked methodically, her movements precise and practiced. "We'll start with your height measurement," she announced, unfolding a ruler that looked more like a towering pillar beside me.

I stepped up to the base of it, feeling the cool metal against my back. Nurse Ania adjusted the slider, and it descended with a quiet hiss until it tapped the top of my head. "Hold still," she instructed.

My heart pounded in my chest. This was the moment that would set my path in this new world. I had to be a Mid; anything less would feel like a sentence rather than an opportunity.

"Done," Nurse Ania said as she scribbled something on her clipboard. She motioned for me to step down and proceeded with other measurements and tests—none of which I could interpret from her expressionless face.

I sat there, every muscle taut, waiting for her to finish writing. The anticipation was a tight coil in my stomach, ready to spring.

Nurse Ania finally turned to me, her eyes softening just enough to remind me she wasn't made of stone. "Bixente, your height is 1.82 meters, therefore a Little."

The numbers hung in the air like a verdict. A single centimeter had just tipped the scales of my entire existence.

"What? That can't be right," I stammered, my voice sharp with disbelief. My mind raced—there must have been some mistake.

"I assure you, we're quite accurate here." Her tone was gentle but patronizing as if she was coaxing a toddler through a tantrum.

I struggled to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "But I'm a Mid," I insisted, though even as I said it, doubt crept in like an unwelcome shadow.

Nurse Ania tilted her head, looking at me with an odd mixture of sympathy and condescension. "I understand this is difficult to accept, Bixente. But being classified as a Little isn't the end of the world."

Her words were meant to be comforting but they only fueled the fire inside me—a blaze of betrayal and fear. She didn't understand; she couldn't possibly understand what it felt like to be so close to what you wanted only to have it snatched away by one measly centimeter.

"But I—" My protest died on my lips as Nurse Ania continued talking to me like I was Eric's age instead of seventeen years old.

"There's no need to worry," she said soothingly. "You'll see that life here can be quite enjoyable for Littles. You're cared for and protected."

Her reassurances were like ice water dousing my spirit, each word highlighting how much I'd lost in that moment—all because of one centimeter.

 

 

"Nurse Ania," I started, my voice trembling more than I cared to admit, "I think there's been a mistake. I'm not—"

She hushed me with a look that was meant to be calming but only ignited a spark of indignation within me. "It's time to meet your Nest Mother and start your journey at Emerson," she said with a finality that left no room for argument.

Before I could protest further, she grabbed my hand like I was a little boy lost in a supermarket, her grip firm yet somehow gentle. We left the building and walked across the campus, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and anger. My hand in hers felt like a shackle, reminding me with every step that my identity had just been rewritten by a system that didn't know me at all.

As we passed groups of students, some Littles like me and others towering above, I felt their eyes on us. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and my temper began to simmer beneath the surface. The way Nurse Ania guided me, so sure and maternal, it was like she'd already dismissed who I was before I even had the chance to prove myself.

"I'm not a child," I snapped suddenly, yanking my hand back with all the force I could muster. "I don't need you to hold my hand."

Nurse Ania stopped in her tracks and turned to face me, her expression stern. "Bixente," she said in a tone that brooked no argument, "this is how things are done here. Your reaction is understandable but not acceptable."

I bristled under her scolding gaze. The last thing I wanted was to be patronized, to be treated as someone who couldn't handle his own emotions or navigate his own path.

"I don't care how things are done here," I retorted, feeling reckless with frustration. "This isn't right."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I knew instantly that I'd crossed some unspoken line. "You have much to learn about our ways," she said coolly. "And you will learn them in time. For now, you would do well to remember where you stand."

I clenched my jaw tight enough to ache, holding back the torrent of words threatening to spill out. Nurse Ania resumed walking, and after a moment's hesitation filled with turmoil, I followed in silence.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be—I wasn't supposed to be helpless or dependent. Yet here I was being led through an alien campus like a child who'd wandered too far from the playground. And despite every fiber of my being screaming against it, part of me knew this was only the beginning.

 

The lecture room stretched out before me, rows upon rows ascending like steps to some grand altar. At the front stood a podium, behind which a woman leaned with casual authority. Evelyn Harrow, I'd learn soon enough. She was a vision of control, from her sharp eyes to the way her fingers tapped a silent rhythm on the wood.

Nurse Ania guided me toward her, and I could feel the woman's gaze size me up like I was a puzzle to be solved—or maybe dismantled. "Evelyn, this is Bixente Echavoyen," Nurse Ania introduced me with a gesture that felt too much like presenting an exhibit.

Evelyn's eyes lingered on my scowl. "Welcome, Bixente. Please, take a seat," she said, her voice smooth as silk but edged with steel.

I glanced around and noticed the chairs—high chairs, more like—each with straps dangling from the sides. My fellow  friends  sat restrained in them, their faces storm clouds of resentment and discomfort. A knot tightened in my stomach. This wasn't right.

"I'm not a little kid," I muttered under my breath.

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. "Your behavior suggests otherwise," she retorted sharply.

Her words stung like a slap. Anger bubbled up inside me, but before it could erupt, she continued in a voice that brooked no dissent. "Now climb up into your chair like a good little boy."

My cheeks flamed red as I stared at the high chair before me. The straps mocked me silently, promising a humiliation I hadn't felt since I was five years old. Clenching my fists at my sides, I weighed my pride against the reality of my situation.

With every pair of eyes in the room on me—waiting, judging—I forced myself to move. My hands gripped the sides of the chair as I hoisted myself up awkwardly, the cold plastic of the seat pressing into my legs as I settled in.

There it was—the first chink in my armor in this oversized world—and Evelyn's satisfied smirk told me she knew it too.

"Very good," Evelyn purred, her satisfaction evident as she turned away to begin whatever lesson she had planned for us—her captive audience in more ways than one.

 

The harness looked like something out of a child's playroom, brightly colored and sturdy, with straps that crisscrossed my chest and waist. I hesitated for a moment, my pride clashing with the reality of my situation. But as Evelyn's eyes bore into me, I knew there was no escape from this humiliation.

I reached back to fasten the straps, feeling the cold metal buckles click into place. The harness tightened around me, securing me in place like a puppet on a string. It was uncomfortable, to say the least—the straps digging into my skin as if trying to remind me of my new status as a Little.

 

I could feel Evelyn's eyes on me as I struggled against the confines of the chair and harness. Her presence loomed over me, suffocating. "Settle down, Bixente," she said in that same smooth tone that made my skin crawl. "You'll get used to it."

As I sat there locked in place, I couldn't help but think of Eric—my little brother who'd looked up to me as his protector, his guide. And now here I was, powerless and infantilized by a system that didn't see me for who I truly was.

The irony wasn't lost on me—once the caretaker, now in need of one myself. My heart ached with homesickness and a longing for simpler times when all I had to worry about was making sure Eric had his drynite on before bed

 

I eyed the other two guys beside me, both looking as out of place as I felt. Adrian, tall and sharp as a knife's edge, seemed to barely contain his disdain for the whole setup. Mateo, on the other hand, was all wide-eyed wonder and nervous energy, fidgeting in his chair like he might bolt at any second.

Evelyn cleared her throat, commanding our attention. "Gentlemen, let's start with introductions. Please, tell us about yourselves."

Adrian went first, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Adrian Volkov. Business Organisation major. And frankly, I find this entire thing beneath me."

Mateo shot Adrian a wary glance before speaking up. "Uh, Mateo Ramirez. I'm just excited to be here and learn."

My turn. I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. "Bixente Echavoyen. Mechanical engineering is my passion."

Evelyn nodded, her eyes flicking between us like she was assessing our worth. "Thank you for sharing," she said smoothly. "As your Nest Mother, my role is multifaceted. Think of me as your guide, your enforcer of rules, and your caretaker all rolled into one."

She walked around us slowly as she spoke, her heels clicking on the floor like a metronome ticking away our fate.

"I'll ensure you adhere to curfews, uniform regulations—including your diapers—and academic standards," Evelyn continued. "But it's more than that. I'm here to nurture you, to build a relationship that extends beyond these walls."

The way she said 'nurture' sent shivers down my spine—it was too cold, too calculated.

"And rest assured," she added with a pointed look at each of us in turn, "missteps will have consequences."

Adrian scoffed loudly enough to echo in the lecture room. "This is ridiculous," he sneered. "We're not children to be coddled and disciplined."

Evelyn stopped in front of him, her posture rigid with authority. "Mr. Volkov," she said icily, "you would do well to remember your place here at Emerson. You are not above the rules—no one is."

Adrian met her gaze but something flickered behind his eyes—a realization that maybe he wasn't as untouchable as he thought.

Evelyn's expression softened slightly as she turned back to Mateo and me. "I know this is a lot to take in," she said more gently now. "But I promise you'll find your way here—with my help."

There was something about the way she said 'my help' that didn't sit right with me—it felt like a velvet glove over an iron fist—but I kept my mouth shut.

As Evelyn outlined more of what our life would be like under her watchful eye—diaper checks included—I couldn't help but wonder if coming to Amazonia had been a colossal mistake.

But there was no turning back now; I was in too deep—literally strapped into it—and all I could do was nod along with Mateo and even Adrian as we were ushered into this new world where we were Littles under the care of our Nest Mother Evelyn Harrow.

***

Evelyn flipped a switch, and the digital whiteboard flickered to life behind her, casting a soft glow across the room. She tapped the screen, and colorful images popped up, each paired with large, cartoonish numbers. "Now, let's go through the rules," she began in a singsong voice that grated on my nerves. "It's important for all my little boys to understand how to be good at Emerson."

She pointed at the first image—a bottle with a big red 'X' through it. "No-no number one: no sippy-sips of grown-up drinks. That means no alcohol for you little tykes." Her voice was patronizingly sweet, as if explaining to toddlers why they couldn't have candy before dinner.

A snicker escaped from Adrian's lips, but he quickly masked it with a cough. Mateo's eyes were wide, darting from Evelyn to the board as if trying to make sense of this charade.

"Every time you break this rule," Evelyn continued, "you'll get a whole bunch of demerits. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" She clapped her hands together like a preschool teacher excited about finger painting.

Next came an image of a book with an 'A+' on it crossed out. "No-no number two: no cheating on your homework," she chimed. "If you copy from another kiddo, it's straight to expulsion—no second chances."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the harness preventing any real movement. The thought of being treated like an academic fraud when I hadn't even attended a class yet was insulting.

Adrian rolled his eyes so hard I thought they might stick that way, while Mateo just nodded along solemnly.

Evelyn's finger moved to an image of a clock with a stern face. "No-no number three: Littles need their sleepies, so don't miss curfew! Eight demerits for each time you're out past bedtime."

I could feel my face heat up at her infantilizing tone. It was like she enjoyed stripping away our dignity one rule at a time.

She then pointed to an image of a Little with a sad face standing in a puddle. "Accidents happen, but we must try our best to keep our pantsies dry and clean." Her tone was mockingly sympathetic. "If you have an oopsie without protection in public spaces, it's two demerits for wee-wee and six for poo-poo."

Adrian scoffed loudly this time, not bothering to hide his disdain. "This is absurd," he muttered under his breath.

"And if it happens in class or labs," Evelyn went on unfazed, tapping on an image of a classroom splattered in brown, "it's twelve demerits—because we can't have messy disruptions during learning time!"

Mateo squirmed beside me; I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or some other discomfort.

Finally, Evelyn showed us an image of training pants and diapers with cheerful stars and moons on them. "And remember, always wear your protective undergarments if you think you might have an accident." She winked exaggeratedly. "No demerits for protected oopsies!"

I clenched my fists again; this whole presentation felt like an assault on my very identity. To be reduced to this—a child in their eyes—was something I couldn't stomach.

As Evelyn wrapped up her presentation with more condescending reminders about obedience and respect for our Nest Mother's directives—which could earn us eight demerits or more—I glanced over at Adrian and Mateo. Adrian sat with his arms crossed, his face carved from stone save for the muscle twitching in his jaw. Mateo seemed resigned now, as though he'd accepted this bizarre new reality without question.

The presentation ended with Evelyn clapping her hands together again. "Alrighty then! That wasn't so hard to understand, was it? Let's all be good little boys and follow the rules."

I could feel my sense of self eroding with every word she spoke; I had become just another Little in her care—no longer Bixente Echavoyen from France but just another statistic in this strange new world where one centimeter had changed everything.

And as we sat there—three boys stripped of our agency—I couldn't help but wonder how Eric would see me now if he could witness this moment where I wasn't so much his big brother anymore but just another little boy needing guidance in Amazonia.

Evelyn paced before us, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mockery. "You know, maybe I've been too quick to judge," she mused aloud, her voice laced with a taunt that set my teeth on edge. "Perhaps you don't need those... diapers. After all, you are big boys, aren't you?"

Adrian's face twisted into a sneer, his pride clearly stung by her words. "Of course we don't need them," he spat out, the venom in his voice unmistakable.

Mateo shifted uneasily in his seat, his eyes darting from Evelyn to the floor and back again. "Yeah, we're not kids," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to her bait. "We're more than capable of taking care of ourselves," I said firmly, meeting her gaze head-on.

Evelyn chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Well then," she drawled, drawing out each word with deliberate condescension. "Let's hope for your sake that you can prove it."

Her eyes lingered on me a moment longer before she turned away, leaving her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

 

Evelyn stopped pacing and faced us squarely, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I should mention one more thing," she said, her tone dropping to something more serious. "Spankings are a common corrective measure here at Emerson. They can be administered with or without demerits and may be delivered by any Big—professor, staff member, or even fellow students."

My stomach churned at the thought. The room felt suddenly too small, the walls closing in on me. I wasn't just stripped of my autonomy—I was exposed to a level of vulnerability I hadn't known since childhood.

Adrian's face reddened, his body tensing as if ready for a fight. "You can't be serious," he said through gritted teeth.

Mateo's eyes widened in fear, and he sank lower into his chair as if trying to disappear.

"And let me be clear," Evelyn continued, each word sharp and precise like a knife's edge, "refusal to comply or retaliation will only worsen the punishment."

I felt a mix of anger and disbelief bubbling inside me. This couldn't be real; it was too barbaric, too humiliating. But the look in Evelyn's eyes told me she was deadly serious.

"And if you accumulate too many demerits," she added with a slight tilt of her head, "you become eligible for unwanted adoption. It's not a threat; it's simply how things work here."

The word 'adoption' hung heavy in the air, laden with implications that sent a shiver down my spine. The thought of being forced into some sort of twisted familial bond against my will was more than I could bear.

Evelyn surveyed our reactions with an almost clinical interest. "Consider this part of your education at Emerson," she said, her voice cool and detached. "Adhere to the rules, respect your superiors, and perhaps you'll navigate your time here without such... interventions."

The lecture room had become a cage, and Evelyn—the warden with the keys—had just shown us how quickly we could lose everything we held dear in this strange new world.

Evelyn's voice cut through the tension, a smooth balm that didn't quite soothe. "Here at Emerson, we are committed to your success," she insisted, spreading her hands wide as if to embrace us all in her grand vision. "Our staff and teachers will go above and beyond to release you from your misery and guide you toward excellence."

I couldn't help but snort at the irony. 'Release us from our misery,' as if they hadn't designed the very shackles that bound us. But I bit back any retorts. I had learned quickly that here, my voice held little weight.

With the presentation concluded, Evelyn led us outside, her heels clicking a rhythm against the pavement. The campus sprawled before us, an expanse of buildings towering high enough to scrape the clouds. We followed in a line, our high chairs a distant memory but their echo still chafing.

We passed students—Bigs and Mids—casting curious glances our way. I straightened my back, trying to regain some semblance of dignity under their gaze. The air was crisp with the promise of autumn, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and something sweet, like nectar.

* * *

As we approached Sanders Eyrie, I caught my first glimpse of the infamous fountain sculpture—a griffin with chicks, all sporting cloth diapers. The sight was as ludicrous as it was imposing. Evelyn, our Nest Mother, clasped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with a delight that seemed to mock my discomfort.

"Isn't it just adorable?" Evelyn's voice was a melody of feigned tenderness. "Such a fitting welcome for my new kits."

Adrian, who towered beside me, snorted at the comment. His voice dripped with sarcasm. "If by 'adorable' you mean utterly demeaning, then yes, absolutely precious."

Evelyn's gaze snapped toward him, her smile never faltering. "Adrian, darling, a little more appreciation for your new home wouldn't go amiss."

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Forgive me for not finding joy in being equated to an infant."

I couldn't help but agree with Adrian. Everything here screamed of forced regression. I glanced at the statues again and felt a surge of rebellion swell within me.

Evelyn ushered us inside, and the hallways offered no respite from the infantile theme. Animated sea creatures frolicked on the walls alongside murals of diapered baby griffins. It was like stepping into an alternate reality where time moved backward.

"Welcome to your nest," Evelyn announced as we stepped into the elevator, its interior awash in bright colors and buttons styled like baby blocks.

Adrian leaned close to whisper in my ear. "We're not just littles here; we're playthings in a nursery."

I nodded silently, swallowing the bitter taste of helplessness.

Evelyn caught our eye rolls but chose to focus on the buttons instead. "Fourth floor is ours," she chirped, pressing one of the oversized buttons.

The doors opened to reveal our nest—another wave of disbelief hit me as I took in the murals of baby fox kits in a forest setting that decorated our dorm rooms.

"This has got to be a joke," I muttered under my breath.

Adrian's scoff resonated through the room. "They're really not subtle about their intentions here, are they?"

Evelyn's warning came swift and sharp. "Remember the rules, boys. A demerit for disrespect isn't how you want to start your stay."

But her words barely registered as my eyes found the changing table prominently displayed in the room. My heart sank at the realization that this wasn't just an educational program—it was a systematic stripping away of dignity and autonomy.

Adrian leaned against the wall, looking as if he'd been sucker-punched. "This can't be serious," he muttered.

 

The dorm room was a joke, a punchline without laughter. I couldn't stop staring at the changing table, an obvious centerpiece in this ridiculous charade. It was like a monument to our diminished status here in Amazonia. "Can you believe this?" I said, turning to Adrian and Mateo. "It's like we've stumbled into a preschooler's daydream. That changing table... it's an insult."

Adrian leaned back against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest. "This place is a masterpiece of humiliation," he said, his voice thick with contempt. "It's not fit for people like us."

Mateo tried to lighten the mood with a chuckle, but it came out forced. "At least there won't be any waiting in line for the bathroom," he joked weakly.

Evelyn's penetrating gaze cut through our murmurs as she strode toward us, resolute. Grasping a sealed box  labeled “Mom’s little helpers” in juvenile script adored with cartoonish figures with tear-streaked faces and crimson bottoms, she set it down with love and precision. The air grew heavy with the unspoken threat it signified.

"Bixente," she said in a tone that sent shivers down my spine, "One more word out of you," she warned, her voice icy, "and you'll become intimately acquainted with what's inside this box."

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I glanced at the ominous container. My heart raced, my pride warring with the primal urge to avoid whatever degrading secrets that box held.

Adrian's posture relaxed slightly, a silent concession to our predicament, while Mateo bit his lip, his usual joviality wiped clean.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and the others followed suit with their own murmured apologies.

Evelyn studied us for a moment longer before nodding curtly. "Apology accepted," she said crisply. "Now get settled in. Dinner is in an hour."

As she left, we exchanged wary looks but said nothing more about our nursery-like accommodations or the box of “Mum’s helpers.” The unspoken message was clear: toe the line or face consequences none of us were ready to endure.

I stood there, still trying to digest the sight of our nursery-esque dorm room when Evelyn glided back into the room, a stack of clothing in her arms. The uniforms she laid out before us were a mockery of adult attire, replete with sweater vests bearing the Emerson crest and dress slacks that had elastic waistbands—and to my dismay, obvious snaps along the inseams.

My heart sank as I took in the sight. "You'll all look so precious in these," Evelyn cooed, her voice laced with an undertone of delight that didn't match the sinking feeling in my gut.

I sighed heavily, the sound lost amidst the rustle of fabric as I fingered the material of the slacks. The snaps felt cold under my touch, a chilling reminder of our infantilized status in this towering world. None of us uttered a word of protest, though; the threat of 'Mum's helpers' still hung over us like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something even more demeaning than the snaps—training pants with juvenile prints sprawled across them lay beside our uniforms. My cheeks flushed with heat at the sight. "You might wear your training pants if you want," Evelyn offered, her gaze settling on me with a smirk that suggested she was enjoying this far too much. "But I'm sure you are too big for them," she taunted, her eyes challenging me to contradict her.

I shook my head in disbelief, my pride wounded yet knowing better than to give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. "No thanks," I muttered under my breath, picking up the uniform with a sense of resignation.

Carefully, I dressed myself, ensuring that my boxers remained securely in place beneath the slacks. Each snap closed with a soft click that echoed loudly in my own ears—a sound that marked not just the fastening of clothes but also the closing of one chapter of my life and the unwilling start of another.

Adrian and Mateo followed suit without comment, each movement deliberate and laden with an unspoken understanding between us—we were all trapped in this farce together. As we finished dressing, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror: a young man made to look like a preschooler playing dress-up for an audience that found this whole charade endearing.

Evelyn observed us with an approving nod. "Perfect," she declared as if we were dolls she had just arranged for display. And despite our outer compliance, inside we were anything but resigned to our fate.

 

* * *

I trailed behind Evelyn, our Nest Mother, as we approached the hall where the Commencement Ceremony was set to unfold. The vastness of the space loomed over us, a stark reminder of the grandeur that defined Amazonia. Huge TV screens flashed with vibrant images, a digital mosaic of pomp and circumstance.

Tables were arranged in precise rows, each set differing in height to accommodate the varied statures of Bigs and Littles. My eyes settled on the almost normal high chairs designated for us, a subtle yet glaring symbol of our status here. The chairs weren't the towering monstrosities I had feared, but their slightly exaggerated dimensions and restraining bars spoke volumes.

As we wove through the crowd to our assigned seats, I noted the sparse population of Littles. We represented less than sixty students, each of us flanked by a Nest Mother's watchful presence. There was no mistaking it; we were in their world now.

Adrian plopped down beside me with a sigh that seemed to carry all his reservations. "Can you believe this?" he whispered, his eyes scanning the sea of Bigs around us.

"It's like we're in some kind of twisted daycare," I murmured back, adjusting myself in the high chair that served as both a seat and a restraint.

Around us, chatter from other Littles blended into a symphony of mixed emotions—excitement mingled with trepidation. A Little from across the table caught my eye and leaned forward.

"Hey," she said with a hesitant smile. "I'm Cora. How was your first day?"

I offered her a rueful grin. "It's Bixente. And let's just say it's been... enlightening." My fingers traced the edge of my chair unconsciously. "What about you?"

Cora shrugged, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her uniform skirt. "It's strange," she admitted. "One minute you're an adult, and the next..." Her voice trailed off as she gestured to our surroundings.

Adrian chimed in, his tone laced with irony. "Yeah, one step through that portal and poof—hello childhood 2.0."

Laughter bubbled up from a Little at the far end of our table—a guy with sandy hair who seemed to find some humor in our predicament.

"I'm Jesse," he called out to us. "And honestly? I figured it'd be weird, but this is like living in a cartoon."

A chorus of agreement rose from our little enclave within the hall as others shared snippets of their day—missteps leading to demerits, unfamiliar customs causing confusion, and that perpetual sense of being out of place.

Evelyn watched over us like a sentinel, her eyes soft yet alert for any sign of distress or disobedience among her charges. She caught my eye and gave me an encouraging nod.

"I know this is all very different for you," she said gently, her voice cutting through our conversations. "But remember why you're here. This ceremony marks the beginning of something extraordinary—a journey not just through academia but also through self-discovery."

I couldn't help but wonder if that journey included rediscovering what it felt like to be three years old again.

The hum of conversations faded as the commencement ceremony kicked off with speeches that resonated through the hall. Bigs in ornate robes took to the podium, their voices booming with authority and pride. They spoke of legacies, achievements, and the bright futures awaiting us all. I tried to soak in the gravity of their words, to find my place in the grand tapestry they wove with their eloquent speeches. But it was hard to feel like a trailblazer while restrained in a high chair.

Then came the meal, and surprisingly, it was nothing short of delicious. My initial apprehension dissipated with each bite of the exquisitely prepared dishes. Flavors burst across my palate—savory, sweet, complex. It was a reminder that not everything in Amazonia was designed to infantilize us; some experiences transcended size and status.

Evelyn leaned in as dessert plates were cleared away, her gaze sweeping over Adrian, Cora, Jesse, and me. "You have free time for the next four hours," she informed us, her tone suggesting both a privilege and a warning. "Please behave and enjoy your afternoon."

The moment she dismissed us, a collective sigh rippled through our group—a release of pent-up tension from the day's formalities. We rose from our seats, eager to stretch our legs and explore what freedom we had.

"I'm going to check out the library," Adrian declared, his eyes gleaming with a hint of his usual arrogance.

Cora nodded enthusiastically. "I heard there's an art exhibit on the fifth floor of Althea Hall. I'm going to see it."

Jesse slapped his hands together with excitement. "I'm game for anything that doesn't involve sitting still. Maybe I'll find a gym or something."

As for me? I felt a pull toward the engineering building—Machina Facultas they called it. It wasn't part of the official tour, but if there was any place on campus where I could feel like myself again, it would be there among gears and gadgets.

We parted ways at the hall's entrance, each of us taking a different path across campus.

Walking alone felt liberating after being under constant supervision. The campus sprawled before me—a network of pathways connecting academic colossi and lush gardens that dwarfed even the Bigs walking alongside them.

I passed by statues and fountains that celebrated knowledge and discovery; their majesty somehow made more approachable by their colossal size. Emerson University might have been built for giants, but it was undeniably awe-inspiring.

As I approached Machina Facultas, my heart raced with anticipation. What wonders awaited within those walls? What innovations could bridge the gap between this world and mine?

Stepping through its doors, I was met with an air of ingenuity that set my mind ablaze. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, I wasn't just a Little—I was an engineer on the cusp of something great.

And so began an afternoon of freedom and exploration—an afternoon where I could almost forget that back home in France, I'd never need permission to simply enjoy an afternoon on my own terms.

[Ericc]

First of all, all the best for 2024 and thanks for reading that story. 
without further ado, time for chapter 3. 
 

 

Chapter 3: Whispers in the Machina

 

The Machina Facultas called to me, its existence a symbol of engineering excellence—a sanctuary of innovation where minds like mine aspired to shape the future. Approaching it, I experienced the awakening of a long-cherished dream, a vision of contributing to this towering world.

With each step I took toward it, I felt the stirrings of a dream that had long been nurtured within the confines of my imagination, one where I could leave my mark upon this grand world that towered over me.

The structure loomed ahead, a monolith of glass and steel reaching skyward as if to grasp the very essence of innovation from the heavens themselves. My fingers grazed the sleek surface of the entrance door, and as it whooshed open, a wave of awe washed over me.

Inside, wonders awaited at every turn. Engines that defied gravity floated in suspended animation, and machines that could weave fabric from light itself blinked rhythmically in a hypnotic dance. Here, there were no demerits, no looming threat of adoption—only pure potential.

My eyes settled on an exhibit featuring a magdrive from one of the legendary skyboats. The magdrive’s intricate design was both elegant and formidable; its sleek lines spoke of power contained with precision. My mind raced with possibilities as I imagined crafting something worthy to stand among these marvels.

"Wouldn't it be something?" I whispered to myself, my voice nearly lost amid the hums and whirs that filled the hall.

My fingers twitched with an urge to dismantle and rebuild—to understand each cog and circuit that allowed these masterpieces to redefine reality. My Magnus opus... what form would it take? A machine that could bridge dimensions? Or perhaps one that could elevate Littles beyond their assigned fate?

I envisioned myself unveiling a creation so groundbreaking that even Bigs would look upon it—and me—with respect rather than condescension. The dream took hold with such ferocity that for a moment, I forgot my surroundings; I was an engineer first and foremost, not just a Little in a world ruled by giants.

Around me, visitors moved like shadows as they admired the exhibits. Their faces reflected the same wonder that sparked within me—a shared reverence for human ingenuity.

My heart swelled with determination. One day, they would come here to see what Bixente Echavoyen had wrought—a marvel not just for Amazonia but for all dimensions. The Machina Facultas would house my legacy.

And as I exited those hallowed halls with sketches and ideas burning bright in my mind, I clung to that vision with unwavering resolve.

 

 

* * *

I paced through the campus, my mind still whirring from the technological marvels I'd witnessed at the Machina Facultas. Each invention seemed to whisper a promise of endless possibilities, stirring a sense of pride within me. For a fleeting moment, I felt like I belonged to this grand, alien world.

As I meandered toward the park, lost in dreams of crafting my own mechanical masterpiece, a sudden clenching in my gut yanked me back to a less inspiring reality. My face flushed with heat as the familiar dread of urgency gnawed at my insides. "Fuck! Not now," I muttered under my breath, each step more frantic than the last.

Memories of embarrassing moments from my past clawed their way into my thoughts, taunting me. I had thought those days were behind me, but here I was, in a foreign land that already insisted on treating me like a child, and my body seemed determined to betray me at the worst possible time.

I scanned the surroundings for any sign of a restroom. The landscape was picturesque, with lush greenery and benches inviting contemplation, but none of that mattered now. My stride turned into a half-run, half-waddle as I clutched at my abdomen, willing myself to hold on just a little longer.

The serene beauty of the campus lake came into view—its tranquil waters mocking my desperation. Couples lounged on its banks, and students laughed nearby. My heart raced; the threat of humiliation hovered over me like a dark cloud.

"I need to find a bathroom," I whispered fiercely to myself. With every step, the panic swelled, turning each breath ragged and sharp. The fear of what might happen if I didn't make it gnawed at my resolve, but I pushed forward.

I bolted, my legs pumping as I made a beeline for the restroom earmarked for Littles. Every second counted, every footfall heavy with dread. I reached the door, my hands already fumbling for the handle before I even arrived. I shoved hard, but it was like slamming into a wall—the door wouldn't give. Locked. A strangled "Why?!" escaped my lips, barely louder than a breath.

My body was on fire with betrayal, a twisted cramp tightening its grip as if to mock me. My eyes stung, whether from sweat or something else, I couldn't tell. I scanned the area, frantic for any other sign of sanctuary. The place teemed with people—Bigs and Mids alike—each step they took seemed leisurely and purposeful. None of them had the slightest clue about the tempest brewing inside me.

I wiped my forehead, smearing away the beads of sweat that had gathered there like uninvited guests. My mind raced as fast as my heart, which thudded against my ribcage like it wanted out. There had to be another bathroom nearby—one that wasn't under some absurd lock and key regime.

Panic clawed at my throat, and I felt small and vulnerable—a feeling I despised with every fiber of my being. I thought of Eric and how he'd snicker if he could see me now; it spurred me on. I couldn't let this world see me as anything less than capable. Not now.

I turned on my heel, setting off again, each step laced with desperation. "Keep it together," I muttered to myself. "Just gotta find another place." My voice was a whisper lost in the cacophony of university life unfolding around me, blissfully unaware of my plight.

I could feel it—the inevitable. My gut gave up, and I felt the unmistakable sensation of my poop running, invading my underwear before dripping on the ground.

The humiliation was overwhelming, and I wanted to sink into the earth and disappear. My face burned with shame as I clutched at my abdomen, trying to stem the flow. But it was too late; the damage had been done. Panic set in as I realized that everyone around me would surely notice what was happening. The laughter of students nearby seemed to mock me, and I felt small and exposed in this alien world where I was already treated like a child.

I tried to walk faster, hoping that if I could just get away from everyone, maybe they wouldn't see what was happening. But it was no use; the smell was already starting to waft through the air, a pungent reminder of my predicament. My heart raced as I scanned the area for any sign of sanctuary—a secluded corner or an empty building where I could hide until this nightmare passed. But there was nothing—just people everywhere, going about their business as if nothing were wrong.

 

* * *

I felt a sudden tug on my sleeve, and I turned to see two towering girls smirking at me. Their laughter was cruel, and I could feel the eyes of everyone around us on me.

"Look who needs a diaper !" one of them sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I blushed furiously, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I should have gone to the bathroom when I had the chance, but now it was too late. The smell was unmistakable, and it seemed to be drawing even more attention to me.

"You're such a little baby," the other girl said, her voice mocking. "Maybe you should just put on a diaper and be done with it mr Poopypants."

They both laughed again, and I felt my face burn even hotter. I tried to back away, but they grabbed my arms tightly, holding me in place.

"Unless you want the dean to hear about this," one of them said menacingly, "you'd better do as we say."

The threat was clear - if I didn't comply, they would report me for soiling myself and getting spanked by the dean. And worse yet, they would demand that I be demoted and adopted by them as their personal little boy. The thought made me shudder with fear.

 

My knees felt like they might buckle under the weight of their taunts. Just as I braced myself for another wave of humiliation, a voice sliced through the cacophony of jeers. "Leave him alone."

He materialized from the throng of students like a sudden shadow, tall and lean, with eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. Aiden Ricoh, I'd later learn his name. His smile was a blade—sharp and deceptive. He stood there, exuding an air of authority that seemed to momentarily stagger the Bigs.

The girls' laughter sputtered into silence, their smirks faltering. "And who are you? His knight in shining armor?" one of them mocked, her voice oozing disdain.

Aiden's grin didn't waver. "No armor here. Just a guy who doesn't enjoy watching two people pick on someone half their size."

They sized him up, eyes narrowing. I could see the gears turning in their heads as they decided whether he was worth the challenge. But something about Aiden's stance—confident, almost defiant—made them pause.

"We don't need this," the other girl said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "But watch your back, little boy," she sneered at me. "You can't hide behind someone forever."

Her words slithered into my ears, leaving a trail of cold dread down my spine. The threat was clear; my reprieve was temporary.

As they sauntered away, Aiden turned to me with a look that wasn't quite a smile nor a frown—it was calculating. "You alright?"

I nodded, trying to regain some semblance of composure despite feeling anything but alright.

"Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't mention it," he replied casually. "But be careful who you trust around here." His eyes scanned the area as if expecting trouble at every corner.

I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the unease his words stirred within me. "I don't even know you," I pointed out, more to remind myself that he was a stranger than anything else.

"You will," Aiden said cryptically.

[SGTbaby]

Different with a male big…looking forward to that.

[Ericc]

 

Chapter 4: Eyes that know too much

Aidan caught my eye, and in it, I saw a flicker of understanding—or was it pity? His hand found mine, a firm grip that yanked me back to the present, away from the suffocating cloud of embarrassment. Weaving through the throng of students, he led me like I was some lost kid at a fair.

I could feel the stares drilling into my back, the whispers that scuttled from mouth to ear. "Check out diaper boy," someone snickered, a jab that knotted my insides tighter.

Aidan notices my distress and squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, little guy," he says softly. "We'll get you cleaned up quickly and get you back to your day.”

 

* * *

 

The door to the changing station swung open, and the scene inside mocked everything I was. Huge changing tables lined the walls, their surfaces gleaming under the bright lights. Each one bore straps decorated with cartoons – grinning bears and dancing rabbits – their cheerfulness a stark contrast to the dread knotting my stomach.

I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms as if they could anchor me to a reality where this wasn't happening. But it was no use; this was Amazonia's reality, and I was caught in its snare.

Aidan guided me to one of the tables. "It's for your own good," he said softly. But his words sounded hollow against the backdrop of infantile illustrations staring back at me.

"I'm not some... some baby," I muttered, the fight simmering beneath my breath. My underwear felt like a thin shield of dignity that I clung to desperately.

"No one thinks you are," Aidan tried to reassure me. But we both knew it was a lie painted over an unforgiving truth.

I stumbled against the table's edge, its height forcing me to crane my neck upward. The cold surface seemed to wait for me with open arms – an invitation to surrender all that I was. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined myself lying there, helpless and exposed.

"You don't have to do this," I pleaded one last time, hoping for an ounce of mercy in Aidan's eyes.

But all he did was offer a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's just how things are done here," he whispered as if sharing a secret I already knew but wished to forget.

I looked down at my hands, now open and empty by my sides. The defiance drained from them like water through open fingers, leaving behind only the dread of what was about to come.

"Please," I begged, my voice cracking under the weight of my plea. "Just let me clean myself up. I don't need... this." I gestured helplessly at the looming tables with their juvenile restraints.

He looked at me with those eyes that seemed to understand too much, yet offered no reprieve. "Listen, it's not about what you need or don't need. It's about following the rules here. You know that."

Anger flared within me, a desperate fire against the cold reality of his words. "But these aren't my rules!" I shouted, louder than I intended. "I'm not one of your... your little to be diapered and coddled!"

Aiden's expression softened for a moment, but it was like watching empathy from behind a glass wall – close enough to see, too far to touch. "I know you're not," he said quietly. "But causing a scene won't change anything."

 

"Fine," I said at last, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Do what you must." And with that surrender.

 

Aiden's hands were gentle, but firm as they guided my wrists into the straps. "There we go, just a little snug so you don't wiggle around too much," he cooed, the straps clicking into place. His voice held that sing-song quality used on unruly kids, grating against my every nerve.

I tugged at the restraints, a futile attempt to free myself. The straps held fast, unyielding. I exhaled a defeated sigh, feeling every bit the part of a misbehaving child they saw me as.

"Now let's get you out of those icky pants," Aiden continued, his tone absurdly soothing as he peeled away the last of my dignity along with my soiled clothes. "Accidents happen, but we'll have you all fresh and clean in no time!"

I lay there, stripped of more than just my clothes—stripped of pride, autonomy, adulthood. "I'm not a kid," I murmured, the protest weak even to my own ears.

Aiden chuckled softly. "Of course you're not. You're just a big boy who had a little mishap. Happens to the best of us!" His words felt like pats on the head, well-meaning but utterly patronizing.

Heat crept up my cheeks as I lay there exposed, the childish prints on the straps mocking me from above. "Just... just get it over with," I muttered, wishing I could sink through the table and disappear.

His hands, steady and impersonal, slipped under my knees, lifting them with a practiced ease that had no place in my world of wrenches and engines.

"This isn't how it's supposed to be," I muttered, my voice betraying a tremble I hadn't intended.

 

 

 

The smell was overwhelming, and I squirmed in discomfort as he reached for a warm, wet wipe.

The wipe was rough against my skin as he scrubbed away at the mess, paying special attention to the creases and folds where dirt tended to accumulate. It was an intimate and humiliating experience, but I felt a sense of relief as the wipe began to clean me up.

As he continued to clean me, I could feel his fingers probing deeper into my crevices, searching for any traces of waste that may have been missed. It was an invasive feeling, but I remained still and cooperative as he worked.

"There you go, almost done," he cooed, as if his soothing tone could somehow make the situation less degrading.

"It's not fair," I grumbled under my breath, the words spilling out like oil from a leaky gasket. "I'm not some kid who can't handle himself."

"I know it doesn't seem fair," Aiden replied, his voice calm and infuriatingly reasonable. "But it's just how things work around here. You'll get used to it."

 

* * *

 

My eyes fix on Aidan as he grabs a diaper from the stack, the sound of it fluffing up like some mocking applause. He unfolds it with a swift motion, his hands practiced and sure. I can't believe this is happening. The plastic backing crinkles loudly in the silent room.

"Legs up, Bix," Aidan instructs, his voice calm and without a trace of mockery.

I comply, feeling every shred of my dignity peeling away with the sound of the diaper rustling beneath me. He slides it under my backside, the cool touch of the inner lining sending a shiver up my spine. The front gets pulled up between my legs, snug against my skin.

"Easy now, it'll be over before you know it," he says, almost gently.

I clench my jaw to keep from spitting out the anger boiling inside me. The tapes secure with a definitive ripping sound, each one a nail in the coffin of my adulthood. He adjusts the fit, ensuring it's tight enough not to leak but not so much that it'd chafe.

"This is ridiculous," I grumbled, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

"It's just how things are done here," Aiden replied, sliding the diaper under me with an efficiency that only deepened my humiliation. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Aidan unbuckles the straps that held me down during this ordeal and helps me off the table with a firm hand under my arm. As I find my feet, he gives a pat to the back of my newly adorned garment, making me cringe at the soft puffing noise it makes against my backside.

"See? All done," Aidan says with an infuriating hint of pride in his voice.

I stand there for a moment, frozen by humiliation and disbelief. Then, almost involuntarily, my hand drifts down to explore this alien thing hugging my hips. I press against it; the childish drawings on its surface – little rockets and stars – —the bulk between my legs and the way it forced my thighs apart just slightly do nothing to comfort me. Instead, they scream out that I'm no longer seen as an adult here.

 

I sigh heavily, feeling each crinkle echo through the room like distant thunder. "Happy now?" I mutter bitterly under my breath.

 

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically. "Nothing like being babied to boost your self-esteem."

Aiden's expression softened slightly. "Hey, don't let it get to you. You're not the first to have an accident around here."

"Yeah? Well, it doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment." I sighed heavily and looked down at myself—a grown man dressed in what was essentially an oversized baby diaper decorated with flying cartoons.

I took an experimental step and winced at the unmistakable sound that followed. This was going to be a long semester.

 

***

 

Aiden snagged my hand, his grip firm, like I was some wayward toddler instead of a guy who had built his first engine at ten. "Come on, Bix, let's get you home."

I yanked back, the heat of anger flushing my cheeks. "No way am I walking across campus like this!"

He tilted his head, and his voice dropped to that singsong lilt Bigs used when they thought they were being soothing. "Don't throw a fit, little man. You don't want a spanking here, do you?"

My teeth clenched so tight I thought they might crack. The threat, wrapped in childish taunting, made my blood boil. But what choice did I have? A public spanking would only add to my current shame. So, I fell into step beside him, my shoes scuffing against the floor as if to voice my silent protest.

I was a bundle of raw nerves, every sound and sensation amplified. And then it happened—the sudden warmth spreading against my skin, the softness beneath me giving way to an unmistakable squish. My stomach lurched; this couldn't be real. My steps faltered as the mess shifted with each movement—a grim reminder of my current state.

Aiden glanced over, no sympathy in his eyes. "Keep moving," he ordered.

But I was rooted to the spot, terror freezing me as another wave of warmth flooded the front of the diaper. Giggles from passing Bigs pierced me like a barrage of bullets.

Laughter bubbled up around us like poison gas—Bigs snickering as they passed by. Their eyes were on me, on the sagging diaper now heavy with my shame.

"Looks like someone's had an accident," one called out in amusement.

"Aw, does the little baby need his mommy?" another teased with a cruel smile.

Aiden tugged on my hand again, harder this time. "We don't have all day."

I stumbled forward, the weight of the used diaper dragging me down with every step. It clung to me like a second skin—a loathsome, squelching layer that broadcasted my humiliation with each movement.

As we walked on—Aiden unfazed and me fighting back tears—I could feel it sagging between my legs, the once crisp material now a sodden mess sticking uncomfortably to my thighs. The padding squished audibly beneath me, a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

The dorms loomed ahead—a sanctuary in sight—but with each step I took in that disgusting diaper, it felt more like a walk of shame than anything else.

[SGTbaby]

Someone is getting adopted…well later on at least 

[Ericc]

2 hours ago, SGTbaby said:

Someone is getting adopted…well later on at least 

Too easy