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

Ericc · January 19

Chapter 5: The keeper’s nest (1/2)

I shuffle into the nest, my legs leaden, the scratchy fabric of the diaper chafing against my skin with each step. Aiden's hand rests lightly on my shoulder, a silent but unwelcome comfort. Evelyn waits for us, her eyes scanning the scene like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The moment she spots us, her lips curl into a practiced smile, and she strides forward with open arms.

"Welcome back, Bixente!" Her voice rings with an unsettling warmth as she sweeps me into an embrace that feels more like a cage than a comfort. She releases me just as quickly, turning to Aiden with an approving nod. "Thank you, Aiden. It's so reassuring to see such care among students."

Aiden shrugs, his usual charm in place. "Just doing my part."

Evelyn's gaze locks onto me again, and I squirm under the intensity of her scrutiny. Her eyes trace the contours of my face before drifting downward, inspecting my disheveled state. I can't help but feel like a specimen under a microscope, every flaw magnified.

"I think we need to address your... situation," she murmurs, reaching out to remove my top. The cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps and sending a shiver down my spine. Vulnerable and exposed, I can't shake this gnawing sense of dread twisting in my gut.

She moves away for a moment and returns holding that damned box—Mommy's little helper—the cartoonish figures on it mocking me with their tear-streaked faces and crimson bottoms. My heart hammers against my ribcage as she sets the box down with an ominous thud.

I swallow hard, trying to steady my voice. "Evelyn... what are you doing?"

She doesn't answer immediately; instead, she pops open the box and stares inside. I strain to catch a glimpse but see nothing.

Evelyn looks up from the box and meets my eyes with a steely gaze that sends shivers down my spine.

"Sometimes," she begins in a tone laced with false sweetness, "anticipation is the most effective tool."

My palms sweat as I clench them at my sides, every muscle tensed for whatever comes next.

Evelyn's eyes bore into me, her voice a razor-sharp edge slicing through the tense air. "Bixente, did you have a choice regarding your underwear earlier today?"

I nod, a lump forming in my throat as I recall the moment of decision that led to my current humiliation. Her reminder feels like salt rubbed into an open wound.

"And what were your options?" she continues, her tone soft yet laced with a subtle threat.

I hesitate, my voice barely a whisper as I answer, "Training pants... or stay in my... my big boy underwear."

Evelyn arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk that doesn't reach her eyes. "And what did you choose?"

The words taste like ash on my tongue, but I force them out. "I chose to stay in my underwear."

Evelyn's eyes never leave mine, her gaze an unyielding force. "And why wasn't it a good decision, Bixente?" she probes, each word calculated and precise.

The humiliation claws at my insides, and a sense of resignation settles over me like a shroud. "Because I couldn't... I couldn't make it to the bathroom on time," I say, the truth of my words stinging like nettles against my skin.

"And what happens when children can't make it to the bathroom on time?" Evelyn's question hangs in the air between us, a test and a sentence all at once.

"They... they get put back in diapers," I respond, my pride crumbling like dry earth.

She nods slowly, deliberately. "And when they've made a mess because they insisted they were too big for diapers?" Her voice is softer now, but it feels like a vice tightening around my chest.

I look down at my hands, knotted together as if they could shield me from the truth. "They... they need to be taught a lesson," I murmur, each word dragging out of me like pulling teeth.

Evelyn steps closer, her presence engulfing the space around me. "What kind of lesson, Bixente?" she asks, her voice dipping lower.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, the echo of it loud in my ears. It takes every ounce of will to push the words past my lips. "A spanking."

She watches me for a moment longer before nodding once more. "That's right. Because actions have consequences," she says with an unnerving calmness. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes," I answer hollowly. The admission tastes bitter, and I can feel something inside me breaking—a dam giving way to a flood of shame and acceptance.

Evelyn's hand rests lightly on my shoulder again, this time guiding me towards the edge of one of those absurdly oversized bean bag chairs that litter our nursery-like common room. "Let's make sure you remember this lesson," she says gently yet firmly as she positions me just so—a grown man about to be disciplined as if he were nothing more than a misbehaving toddler.

My heart races as Evelyn's hand comes down with a light tap on the padded barrier of the diaper. The first few strikes are gentle, almost mocking in their softness, but I know better than to believe they'll stay that way. The room blurs at the edges of my vision, the pastel walls and whimsical murals spinning as I brace myself for what's to come.

"Is this necessary?" I manage to choke out, my voice strained with a mix of indignation and fear.

"Lessons must be learned, Bixente," she responds coolly, her hand landing with increased force. The smacks grow louder, each one echoing off the walls like a judge's gavel pronouncing sentence.

With every hit, the fabric of the diaper rubs against my skin, its once comforting softness now an abrasive reminder of my degradation. I bite my lip to keep from making a sound, but it's a losing battle. Each strike sends a jolt through me, the pain building like a crescendo in a twisted symphony.

"Please," I gasp between strikes, "I understand—I won't make the same mistake again."

Evelyn's only response is to increase her striking power. The sound of her hand against the diaper fills my ears, drowning out my pleas. The padding does little to soften the blows that now rain down relentlessly.

I feel my resolve crumbling, tears welling up in my eyes as the pain mounts. My pride shatters like fragile glass under the weight of Evelyn's hand. A sob escapes me, and then another until I'm crying miserably, each smack drawing forth another wave of tears.

The spanking finally ceases, but the echoes linger both in the room and on my tender skin. My breath comes in ragged gasps as Evelyn stands me up on shaky legs and guides me towards a corner of the room.

"Face the wall," she instructs sharply. "And no rubbing."

As I stand in the corner, my face pressed against the cool wallpaper, I can feel the heat radiating from my bottom. The stinging sensation is intense, and every movement sends a jolt of pain through me. My heart races as I try to catch my breath, the tears still streaming down my face.

Evelyn's voice cuts through the silence, her tone cold and clinical. "You've learned your lesson today, Bixente," she says, her words carrying an unmistakable air of finality. "But remember—this is just the beginning."

I shudder at her words, knowing that she's right. The humiliation and degradation I've experienced today will haunt me for days to come, a constant reminder of my failure and my place in this society.

Aiden steps forward, his expression unreadable as he regards me with a mixture of curiosity and detachment. "You should be grateful for this opportunity," he says softly, his voice almost soothing in its calmness. "It's not every day that you get a chance to learn such valuable lessons."

I look up at him, my eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. How could he possibly think that what we've just done is valuable? That it's somehow beneficial for me to be treated like a child? But before I can voice my thoughts, Evelyn cuts in once more.

"Don't waste your energy on anger or resentment," she says sternly. "Focus on what you've learned today—and how you can use it to improve yourself."

I nod slowly, feeling defeated but also resigned to my fate. There's no point in fighting against this system; it's too powerful, too entrenched in every aspect of life here. All I can do is try to adapt and survive—to learn from this experience and become a better... little?

The faint sound of the door creaking open seeped into my consciousness, and through blurred vision, I caught sight of Adrian's form being dragged into the room. My head shot up, a mix of concern and curiosity etched on my face.

"Bixente, eyes front," Evelyn's sharp tone cut through the room, and I quickly averted my gaze, staring at the patterned wallpaper in front of me.

Adrian's protests were loud and clear. "This is absurd! I'm an adult," he spat out, his voice thick with indignation.

Evelyn chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Thank you for bringing him back, Natalie," she said to her friend. "Seems like our Adrian couldn't keep himself clean either."

Natalie's voice was almost teasing. "He was quite the spectacle in the hall. Such a shame to see him like this, but rules are rules."

I couldn't see them from my corner, but I could imagine Evelyn inspecting Adrian with that cold satisfaction she seemed to derive from our humiliation. "Oh, Adrian," she cooed mockingly. "You look absolutely adorable in your little mishap."

Adrian's voice was a low growl. "Cut it out, Evelyn."

But there was no mercy in Evelyn's realm. The unmistakable sound of her palm connecting with Adrian's behind echoed in the room—once, twice, thrice. With each strike, Adrian's composure crumbled; his disdainful façade gave way to raw vulnerability.

"Please," he whimpered between blows—a plea that went unheeded as Evelyn continued her merciless discipline.

When it was over, another sobbing figure joined me in the land of disgrace. We were two grown men reduced to toddlers on timeout.

From across the room, Evelyn sighed contentedly. "What delightful sounds of obedience," she murmured to herself.

And there we were: me with my damp cheeks and Adrian with his bruised dignity—both nursing our wounded pride under the watchful eye of Evelyn Harrow.

The full chapter is more than 6k and will be post in 2.

i think it will be easier to read.

enjoys.

eric.

SGTbaby · January 19

Wonder who gets adopted first…lol

Operational Systems · January 20

I would say the speed of the fall was fast, but there are (subtle) signs he's been changed in the prior few chapters. The bigs set some pretty hefty expectations for themselves, only to immediately fail to live up to it. No nurturing, no release from misery, no excellence achieved, no care and no protection. A definite contrast to the opening caretaking scene.

Like a student learning from a great martial artist teacher, the student must be broken down, exposed to cruelty and humiliation so they can be reforged from an ego that prevents them from really achieving mastery. Still it's not a great thing to see. Hopefully they all grow and learn from the experience - that resentment is beneath them, that the shame was not in the act but in failing to listen to those with more experience and knowledge, and ultimately to learn to see the world as the bigs do. Like "The Cruel Tutelage of Pai Mei" and similar 'learning from masters' scenes in literature, one hopes there is a payoff to the lessons learned.

Starting to be one of my favorite stories from a new author, hope to see part two of the chapter soon.

Ericc · January 20

On 1/19/2024 at 3:51 PM, SGTbaby said:

Wonder who gets adopted first…lol

Not my kitty for sure!

14 hours ago, Operational Systems said:

I would say the speed of the fall was fast, but there are (subtle) signs he's been changed in the prior few chapters. The bigs set some pretty hefty expectations for themselves, only to immediately fail to live up to it. No nurturing, no release from misery, no excellence achieved, no care and no protection. A definite contrast to the opening caretaking scene.

The boys are just toyed yet…

14 hours ago, Operational Systems said:

Starting to be one of my favorite stories from a new author, hope to see part two of the chapter soon.

And thanks for your support. I hope you like red herrings or surprises

next part Monday.

Ericc · January 22

Chapter 5: The keeper’s nest (2/2)

Time slunk past, every second heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the sound of Adrian's stifled sobs. I was trapped in my own head, wrestling with the ignominy that clung to me like a second skin. Then Evelyn's voice sliced through the haze, as sharp and commanding as ever.

"Bixente, Adrian, come here," she ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

I pulled myself up, my limbs stiff from sitting too long in one place. The humiliation still burned bright within me, but I masked it with a scowl as I shuffled toward her.

"You've both earned four demerits," Evelyn declared, her eyes scanning us like we were lines of data that didn't add up. "Let's clean you up."

The process was clinical and devoid of any comfort. Evelyn's hands were efficient and impersonal as she wiped away the physical evidence of our messy accidents. The indignity was acute, being cleaned like an infant incapable of caring for himself. It chafed against every fiber of my being.

"Shower. Now," she instructed once she deemed us sufficiently clean.

Adrian and I exchanged a glance—a shared moment of misery—before we trudged to the showers. The water would wash away the grime, but the shame? That was a stain not so easily removed.

I stood there, shifting uncomfortably on my feet, the cold tile beneath them a stark contrast to the lingering sting that radiated from my backside. The bathroom echoed with the sound of running water from the elaborate shower cubicles, but it was Adrian's low grumble that snagged my attention.

"Look at this," he growled, his voice hoarse. He turned slightly, giving me a glimpse of the reddened skin. "She didn't hold back."

I winced in sympathy, then with a half-hearted chuckle, I shot back, "You call that bad? Mate, you should see mine. It's like she branded me with her hand!"

Adrian's eyes narrowed as he peered over his shoulder at me. "No way. Mine's way worse. I bet it's twice as red."

"Twice? Please," I scoffed, my voice cracking in that way it did when I tried to act tougher than I felt. "I'll show you red." I turned enough for him to see the aftermath of Evelyn's wrath on my own skin.

He snorted and shook his head. "That's nothing. I've seen tomatoes less red than my butt right now."

A laugh burst from me despite everything—the pain, the humiliation—because Adrian's indignation was so typical and so...normal. It was like we were back on Earth, arguing over who had taken the hardest hit in a football match or something equally trivial.

"Dude, your butt is like a mild sunburn compared to mine," I argued with a smirk. "Mine feels like it's been through hell and back."

Adrian shot me a look that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. "Yeah? Well, mine feels like it went to hell, took a tour, and brought back souvenirs."

We were just two teens trying to one-up each other with our tales of woe, but in that moment of shared suffering and absurdity, there was an unspoken bond forming between us—two boys flung into a world where we were nothing more than misbehaving toddlers in the eyes of giants.

As we stepped into our respective shower cubicles, letting the hot water cascade over us and wash away the remnants of our punishment, there was a silent agreement that we'd stick together through this insanity. Because if we didn't have each other's backs—sore as they might be—who would?

“Hey, Adrian," I called out over the sound of water pattering against the tile. "What went down with you earlier?"

Adrian's silhouette paused behind the fogged-up shower glass, and for a moment, there was only the hiss of the shower. Then he shut off the water, and his voice came through, edged with annoyance. "I was in a vtennis match against some hotshot from the business school."

"And?" I prompted, turning off my own shower and grabbing a towel.

He emerged, his hair plastered to his forehead, eyes dark with frustration. "I was winning, believe it or not. But then..." He trailed off, grimacing.

"But then what?" I pressed, my curiosity piqued despite the dread coiling in my stomach.

Adrian grabbed a towel and began drying off aggressively. "But then I crapped myself. Right there on the virtual court." His words were spat out like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

I blinked at him. "You what?"

He tossed the towel aside and leaned against the sink, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah, you heard me. One minute I'm serving an ace, next thing I know... disaster."

My mind raced to process this. "How did that even happen? Did you feel sick or something?"

Adrian shook his head, scowling. "No warning. It just hit me like a freight train."

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with being wet and naked in a bathroom. "They diapered you after that?"

He nodded once, sharp and curt. "Marched me straight to the changing station like I was some incontinent toddler." There was a bitter laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Then I had another accident while in the damn diaper."

My stomach twisted with empathy and fear. This place was starting to feel more like a prison than a university. "Do you think... we were poisoned or something?" The words sounded crazy even to my own ears.

Adrian looked at me then, really looked at me—his blue eyes piercing through the steamy air of the bathroom. He nodded slowly. "It's not just us," he said quietly. "I've heard from other littles... same treatment or worse."

The implication of his words hung between us like a noose—silent, ominous, threatening to choke out whatever sense of normalcy we were clinging to in this oversized world.

***

« Seriously ? Can’t you wash yourself properly? »Said Adrian while pushing me back to my cubicle with an hard swat on my butt.

I stumbled back into the shower stall, Adrian's hand smarting on my backside. "Seriously?" His voice, laced with a mixture of scorn and disbelief, echoed off the tiled walls.

I turned to face him, indignant. "Hey, I can manage just—"

"Shh, kiddo," he cut me off, his tone as dismissive as if I were a toddler interrupting adult conversation. His hand reached past me, turning the water back on. The spray hit my skin, warm and insistent.

I opened my mouth to protest again but fell silent as his eyes narrowed on me, finding the unwelcome evidence of my earlier accident. "Look at you," he said, pointing to the small piece of poop dropping from my butt.

My cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red—not with anger now but embarrassment. It was like being back home with Eric, when he'd make a mess and I'd clean him up, gentle but firm. Except now, I was Eric in this scenario, and Adrian was... well, he wasn't exactly playing the nurturing older brother role.

I grumbled under my breath but didn't fight him as he grabbed the soap and started scrubbing my back with more force than necessary. "You were dirtier than I thought," he muttered.

"I wasn't that dirty," I shot back half-heartedly. But there was something oddly comforting about relinquishing control, about being taken care of even in such a patronizing way.

Adrian huffed a laugh. "Sure you weren't."

As he washed me down thoroughly, making sure not a trace of the accident remained, I couldn't help slipping further into that little brother role. My protests became less about asserting my independence and more about seeking attention in the way Eric would.

By the time Adrian was satisfied that I was clean enough to meet his standards—his meticulousness strangely mirroring his usual academic precision—I found myself whining about the water being too hot or too cold, about soap getting in my eyes—just like Eric would.

Adrian's annoyance seemed to shift to amusement at my childish complaints. "All done," he announced finally, turning off the water with a finality that suggested this episode was over for now.

Wrapped in a towel and feeling oddly smaller than before this all began, I couldn't shake off the feeling of having regressed to someone much younger than my seventeen years. But part of me—a part I wasn't ready to acknowledge just yet—might have actually enjoyed it.

***

Evelyn's hands gripped me like iron, lifting me onto the changing table as if I weighed nothing. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat echoing the loss of my dignity. The heavy-duty straps clicked into place over my chest and legs, the childish drawings mocking me from their fabric prisons.

"Say bye-bye to your pubes, Bixente," Evelyn cooed, her tone sickeningly sweet, as if she were talking to a toddler incapable of understanding the weight of her words.

I exhaled a heavy sigh, my eyes shut tight, I couldn't bear to watch her work, to see more of my adulthood stripped away with each pass of the razor.

"You're doing great, just relax," she hummed, oblivious or indifferent to the turmoil churning inside me.

Adrian stood by, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes held mine for a moment—there was no mockery there, just a grim acknowledgment. He knew he was next in line for this humiliation.

Evelyn's fingers danced over the stack of diapers, her selection process like a bizarre ritual. She pulled out a nighttime diaper, its thickness absurd, a cushion that could double as a life preserver. Holding it up with pride, she turned to me with a grin that could freeze blood.

"Look at this beauty, Bixente," she chirped, waving the diaper as if it were a flag of victory. "It's got the cutest little space rockets and planets on it. You'll be safe and dry all night long."

I wanted to scoff, to yell, to tell her that I wasn't some toddler excited about cartoon designs on my undergarments. Instead, I bit my tongue, the taste of defeat bitter on my palate.

"And listen to this." She gave the diaper a shake, the crinkle loud and clear—a humiliating anthem for my new life. "Everyone will hear how well-protected you are."

I glared at the diaper as if it were the source of all my problems. I could feel Adrian's shock radiating across the room, but he held his tongue. He stood there rigidly, his eyes wide with disbelief but his lips pressed into a thin line.

"It's... really something," I managed to say through clenched teeth, feigning gratitude for what was essentially a tether to infancy. My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Oh, it is!" Evelyn exclaimed with unwavering enthusiasm. "And so practical too! These are designed for littles like you in mind—comfortable, absorbent, and impossible for you to take off by yourself."

Evelyn's fingers, delicate as a surgeon's, unfolded the diaper beneath me. I squirmed under her touch, a chill crawling up my spine as she smeared cold oil across my skin. The scent of artificial lavender invaded my nostrils, a smell meant to soothe babies, not a seventeen-year-old guy with dreams of mechanics and adventure.

I felt the oil coat my cheeks, a barrier against the chafing embrace of the diaper. My face burned hot with embarrassment; my pride fought against the softness of her touch. This wasn't right—I was no child in need of protection from diaper rash.

"Comfort is key, Bixente," she murmured as if reading my thoughts. "We wouldn't want any nasty irritations now, would we?" Her voice was gentle, but it grated against my ears like sandpaper.

As she pulled the diaper up between my legs and secured it snugly around my waist, I could feel its bulk forcing my legs apart. It was like being trapped in an over-stuffed pillow, each shift reminding me of its presence.

Once secured, Evelyn unstrapped me with an efficiency that suggested she'd done this many times before. I slid off the changing table on unsteady legs, the diaper crinkling loudly with every movement.

"Now for your pajamas," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She held up a pair of footed pajamas that looked like they belonged in a toddler's wardrobe rather than on a young man about to start university. The pattern was an endless loop of cartoon rockets and planets— with Emerson’s crest echoing the design on the diaper—meant for someone much younger.

I stepped into them without protest; what was the use? The fabric was soft against my skin—a comfort that felt undeserved and unwanted. Evelyn zipped them up from behind before I heard the click of a lock near my spine—a sound that sealed my fate.

I stood there, enveloped in the pastel fabric of the footed pajamas, the reality of my situation sinking in. A glance down at my frame offered no solace—my new attire hugged my form a little too well, outlining the diaper's bulky silhouette. The material stretched taut over the padding, making it impossible to ignore the exaggerated waddle that now characterized my walk.

"Perfect fit," Evelyn commented, her satisfaction evident. But her words sounded hollow to me, a poor attempt to dress up a grim truth.

With each movement, a noticeable rustling echoed through the hushed space, amplifying the noise until it seemed as though my every step was announced to the world.

Adrian's gaze met mine from across the room, reflecting the same humiliation I felt.

Evelyn observed with a victorious demeanor as she guided me to my crib and secured me inside.

"And let's not overlook our dear Adrian," she declared, seizing him to confirm his destiny.

Evelyn loomed over us, her shadow stretching across the nursery-themed dorm. "Now my precious little ones," she cooed, a saccharine smile plastered on her face, "nighty-night time is super long here in Amazonia—almost 15 whole hours! So make sure your diapees are comfy-cozy, 'cause there's no potty breaks until the bright-bright sun comes up!"

With a flick of her wrist, the lights dimmed to a soft glow, leaving us in a twilight world of cribs and pastel walls. I heard the click of the door as she left, sealing us in our oversized playpen.

Lying on my back, I glanced over at Adrian's crib. He lay still, a shadowed figure in the dim light. I couldn't see his face, but I could picture the scowl that was probably etched across it. I turned my attention to the bulky mass between my legs—the diaper that had become my unwanted underwear.

Curiosity got the better of me as I prodded at it with tentative fingers, tracing the puffy outlines that held me captive. It felt surreal—like poking at a part of me that shouldn't exist. The diaper crinkled under my touch, each noise a jarring reminder of where I was and what I'd become.

"What are you doing, Bix? Trying to make music with that thing?" Adrian's voice cut through the darkness with a big brotherly tone laced with exasperation.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his comment—it was ridiculous, all of it. "Just checking out the craftsmanship," I replied with a smirk in my voice. "You know, they really went all out with these... space rockets."

A scoff came from Adrian's direction. "Yeah, they're real masterpieces. You should be proud."

"Hey," I shot back lightly, rolling onto my side to face his crib better. "At least mine have rockets. Yours are just covered in... what is that? Bunnies?"

The silence that followed told me he was inspecting his own getup—a moment later he groaned. "Don't remind me," he muttered.

We fell into an easy back-and-forth banter then, the kind only shared between brothers—or friends who've seen each other at their most vulnerable. Despite everything—the humiliation, the diapers—it felt good to laugh with Adrian.

I smiled into the darkness—a small victory in a world where dignity was hard to come by. Our laughter died down and silence settled over us once more—a comfortable quiet filled with unspoken understanding.

The soft glow from the nightlight cast dancing shadows across the room as sleep crept up on us—two Earthlings trying to navigate an alien world that insisted we were anything but grown men.

As my eyelids grew heavy and sleep beckoned, I thought about home—about Eric and mom—and how much I missed them already. The reality of my situation weighed on me like an anchor in deep waters.

But for now, exhaustion took over, pulling me down into dreams where diapers and demerits didn't exist—where I was just Bixente Echavoyen from France who loved mechanics and had his whole life ahead of him.

With those thoughts circling in my mind like distant stars in an unknown galaxy, I finally drifted off to sleep—the crinkle of my diaper fading into nothingness as night enveloped us both.

***

Morning light filtered through the high windows, casting a soft glow over the nursery-like room. I lay there, eyes fixed on the crib's transparent sides, waiting for the inevitable click that would signal our release. Beside me, Adrian's silhouette stirred.

"You didn't wet your diaper, did you, little bro?" His tone held a mock authority that grated on my nerves.

"No, I didn't," I shot back, my voice flat. The whole setup felt absurd—grown men discussing dry diapers as if it were some sort of achievement.

The lock disengaged with a soft click and the side of my crib lowered. Evelyn swept into the room with an air of purpose. She approached, her eyes scanning our pajamas as if looking for evidence of a crime.

"Well done, boys," she praised with a hint of surprise. "You both stayed dry."

Her hands were brisk and efficient as she stripped us out of our pajamas and unused diapers. The cool air of the room brushed against my skin, and I suppressed a shiver.

"Shower time," she commanded, pointing toward the bathroom door.

Adrian strode ahead confidently while I trailed behind. Once inside the tiled space echoing with the sound of running water, he turned to me with that familiar arrogance in his eyes.

"Come on, Bix," he urged, his hands already working up a lather with the soap. "You've got to be a good little brother and let me wash you."

I glared at him but couldn't hide the faint smirk tugging at my lips. "Oh please, you're hardly any bigger than me."

He chuckled and splashed water in my direction. "But I'm still big enough to make sure you're clean behind your ears."

I swatted his hand away playfully. "I can wash myself just fine without your help."

Adrian's laughter filled the steamy room as he feigned a hurt expression. "What? You don't trust your big brother?"

"I'd trust you more if you didn't enjoy this role way too much." I grabbed the soap from him and started scrubbing myself vigorously.

He leaned against the wall with folded arms, watching me with an amused gaze. "Fine, do it yourself then. But don't come crying to me if Evelyn finds out you missed a spot."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a chuckle. Despite everything—the humiliation, the bizarre situation—we found moments to push back against our reality with humor.

Evelyn's voice echoed from beyond the bathroom door. "Hurry up in there!"

We exchanged one last look before finishing up quickly—two friends caught in an absurd dance between who we were and who we were forced to pretend to be.

Strapped down, Adrian's face was a mix of confusion and fury. "Why?" he barked, struggling against the childish restraints of the changing table.

Evelyn loomed over him, her voice a sing-song of condescension. "Oh, my dear boys, you've earned yourselves demerits from yesterday. And we all know what that means," she cooed as if explaining to a toddler why he couldn't have a cookie before dinner.

I watched from the sidelines, a pit forming in my stomach. The previous day's humiliation had snowballed into this—three days in diapers as our penance. Adrian was getting his first taste of the punishment, his lean frame looking ridiculous and out of place on the table meant for someone much younger.

Evelyn deftly taped him into another childish diaper, the same we both wore earlier in the day. It crinkled audibly as Adrian shifted, his usual smugness replaced by a deep scowl.

My turn came all too soon, and I could feel the warmth in my cheeks as Evelyn repeated the process with me. Once she was done, we were free to dress ourselves.

I pulled on the school uniform over the diaper— a pants with elastic waistbands that made it easy to accommodate the thick padding underneath. The white dress shirt followed, and I opted for one with a onesie tail to keep everything in place discreetly. A clip-on tie completed the look.

Standing before the mirror, I took in my reflection—a sharp contrast between sophistication and infantilization. The sweater vest embroidered with Emerson's crest lent an air of chicness to the ensemble. But beneath it all was the unmistakable bulge of a diaper, carefully designed not to be too obvious yet impossible to hide completely.

I sighed deeply. The uniform looked good—sleek and almost professional—if you could ignore its underlying purpose. My reflection mocked me; no matter how well I dressed up, I couldn't escape what lay underneath.

Adrian caught my eye through the mirror and shrugged with resignation. "At least we look like students," he muttered dryly.

"Yeah," I replied, adjusting my vest to minimize any hint of our shared disgrace. "Like students prepped for potty training."

Evelyn clapped her hands together, her smile sharp as a blade. "Breakfast, boys, and then straight to your orientation tests." Her voice brooked no argument, yet there was a glint in her eye that didn't sit right with me.

Adrian and I exchanged a glance. It was odd, being left to our own devices after the tight leash we'd been on. "You're letting us go by ourselves?" Adrian's voice held an edge of suspicion.

Evelyn nodded, her curls bouncing. "Yes, you'll find I'm not entirely heartless. Go, eat, gather your strength for the tests."

The walk to the cafeteria felt surreal without Evelyn's hawk-like gaze upon us. Other littles meandered through the corridors, some with a bounce in their step, others with shoulders hunched under the weight of their own diapers.

We approached a group near the entrance. A girl with pigtails that bobbed as she talked waved us over. "Hey! You guys ready for the orientation test?"

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, feeling the bulk of the diaper around my waist shift awkwardly. "Ready as we'll ever be," I muttered.

A boy with glasses pushed up his frames and leaned in closer. "Word is they're testing us on general knowledge first—history, math, that kind of stuff." His voice was tinged with nerves.

I nodded, processing this. "Anything else?"

Pigtails girl piped up again. "There's also a practical part. They want to see how we handle...you know...Amazon tech."

Adrian scoffed lightly. "They think we can't handle a little tech?"

She shrugged, her expression serious. "They don't expect much from littles."

We continued toward the cafeteria, digesting this new information. The prospect of being underestimated gnawed at me, but it also sparked a fire. I might be stuck in this diaper for now, but that didn't mean I couldn't show them what I was capable of.

Adrian caught my eye and gave a slight nod. We were in this together.

Diaper-Mark · January 22

hi, just want to verify that Aidan and Aiden are the same character.

Guilend · January 22

I'm really enjoying this for sure. Just curious, what happens if an Amazon is slipped a powerful laxative and they poop their pants. Is there any kind of rules or anything set up for an Amazon that poops their pants or do they simply just live with the humiliation till everyone kind of forgets about it and it doesn't really effect that Amazon?

Ericc · January 23

5 hours ago, Diaper-Mark said:

hi, just want to verify that Aidan and Aiden are the same character.

Well spotted same character. I didn’t see the typo.

5 hours ago, Guilend said:

I'm really enjoying this for sure. Just curious, what happens if an Amazon is slipped a powerful laxative and they poop their pants. Is there any kind of rules or anything set up for an Amazon that poops their pants or do they simply just live with the humiliation till everyone kind of forgets about it and it doesn't really effect that Amazon?

I guess they will have to live the humiliation until it’s forget, beside size mater too.

SGTbaby · January 24

The “embracing the suck” the boys have going together. Wonder if it helps them last longer.

Ericc · January 26

Chapter 6: Walking through time

On Cobbletech Avenue, where antiquity clasped hands with the future, a tapestry of classical architecture lay interwoven with Amazonian innovation. Frescoes danced on facades as drones buzzed overhead, their tiny lights flickering like fireflies against the dusky sky. Marble columns stood sentinel beside digital display windows scrolling through endless advertisements for the latest tech.

Among the throng of early evening strollers, a young man ambled, his thoughts a private cocoon that shielded him from the world's prattle. He wore a simple ensemble—a pair of dark jeans and a faded university sweatshirt—blending seamlessly with the student population that ebbed and flowed around him. His gait carried an air of preoccupation, his eyes focused on some unseen horizon beyond the present.

The air thrummed with conversation, an auditory collage of daily life. Couples walked hand in hand, discussing plans for the weekend, while others bartered over items in open-air markets.

"Did you see the latest lev-bike model? Zero to sixty in three seconds!" a someone boasted to his companion, who laughed heartily at the extravagance.

Nearby, a mother adjusted the straps on a Little's harness, her voice a gentle chiding melody. "Remember, no running off. Stay close or it's straight to bed after dinner."

Laughter erupted from a nearby table where Bigs enjoyed an alfresco meal. "So, two scientists walk into a bar," one began, her grin broad beneath twinkling eyes.

A murmur of intrigue rippled through her audience as she leaned in. "The first says to the bartender—"

Their voices blurred into the ambient noise as the man continued on his path, unaware of their stories and their laughter. The end of summer lingered in the air, warm and soft like a promise whispered beneath starlight.

The quip's cliffhanger left a twinge of annoyance in Aiden's chest as he neared the famous Caelum's Cradle, an establishment where culinary constellations were said to align. Reservation-only, it stood as a beacon for those with refined palates and the clout to bypass the velvet ropes of exclusivity. Aiden fished his ID from his pocket, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes as the host perused it, then with a nod, ushered him inside.

Caelum's Cradle was an oasis of opulence, its interior a harmonious blend of old-world charm and futuristic finesse. Holographic chandeliers cast a soft glow over mahogany tables set with fine bone china and silverware that glistened like morning dew. The murmur of mellow conversations filled the space, accompanied by the clinking of glasses—a symphony for the senses.

Evelyn sat ensconced in a plush booth, her presence commanding yet unobtrusive. Beside her, another Big, a woman with an air of erudition etched into her features, sipped on a glass of crimson liquid that swirled like distant nebulae. They both looked up as Aiden approached.

"Ah, Aiden Ricoh graces us with his punctuality," Evelyn's voice rang out, equal parts jest and admiration. She gestured to the empty seat across from them. "Please, join us."

Aiden slid into the booth with an ease that belied his height, nodding to each in turn. "Dr. Harrow, Ms. Thorne," he acknowledged their presence formally yet with an undercurrent of familiarity that hinted at previous encounters.

Evelyn returned the nod with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes but warmed nonetheless. "Aiden," she said smoothly, "we were just discussing our latest developments…"

Evelyn's fingers glided across the sleek surface of her tablet with practiced ease, summoning a holographic projection that hovered above the glassy device. A small portrait materialized in the air, the edges of the image rippling like water touched by a gentle breeze. The face within was Bixente's—a young man captured in an expression of candid innocence, his deep blue eyes reflecting an inner resilience that belied his current vulnerability. His somewhat childish features were softened further by the hologram's glow, painting him as a picture of boyish charm.

"This little one," Evelyn began, her voice a melodious pitch that might have sold sand to desert dwellers, "is quite the sweet soul. Despite his rough start here at Emerson, he's adapted admirably. There's a certain... naiveté about him that's quite endearing."

The woman opposite her, Ms. Thorne, regarded Bixente's holographic likeness with a discerning eye. She tilted her head slightly, considering the image before her. "He does have an appealing look," she conceded, "but I wonder if there might be another who fits my client's specific tastes."

"Of course," Evelyn responded without missing a beat. She swiped at her tablet again and another face appeared beside Bixente's—Mateo's visage now floating in the air, with sharp features and an intense gaze that hinted at a fiery spirit.

Ms. Thorne barely spared Mateo a glance before she shook her head dismissively. "Not quite what we're looking for," she said briskly. "Perhaps LP02?"

Evelyn nodded and quickly adjusted her search parameters. The image shifted once more, this time revealing Adrian Volkov's stern countenance framed by dark hair styled with meticulous care. His piercing blue eyes seemed to scrutinize even from within their digital confines, and his fashionable attire suggested an air of casual superiority.

"Adrian here is another excellent candidate," Evelyn offered with a touch of pride. "Intelligent and confident—his arrogance can be... reshaped into a more desirable demeanor under the right guidance."

Aiden leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he observed the transaction unfold. "They are both primed," he chimed in with an assertive tone that underscored his involvement in their grooming process. "Should be available on the market within a week."

Ms. Thorne tapped her chin thoughtfully as she considered Adrian's portrait. After a moment, she let out a sigh that seemed to carry both resignation and anticipation. "I believe my client will find Bixente quite... captivating," she mused aloud.

The trio delved into discussions about regression options—a myriad of paths that could tailor Bixente to any number of desired outcomes. Evelyn outlined potential scenarios with clinical detachment: reduced autonomy, enforced dependence, behavioral modifications—all designed to ensure Bixente would fulfill his role perfectly.

Aiden's fingers danced across the tablet's surface, a maestro conducting an orchestra of potential futures for Bixente. The holographic display responded in kind, blossoming with options and diagrams that painted a stark future for the young man in question.

"Given Bixente's particular... adaptability," Aiden began, tapping an icon that caused a new set of images to emerge, "I'd venture that full regression to a three-year-old mentality could suit him rather well." He paused, allowing the statement to hang in the air like a heavy perfume. Evelyn's lips curled into a knowing smile as she nodded in agreement.

Ms. Thorne, however, arched an eyebrow, intrigued by the implication. "Full regression? Interesting proposition, but I'm curious—do you have anything less... conventional?"

Aiden met her gaze, his own eyes alight with the thrill of sharing a closely guarded secret. "Indeed, we do," he said. With another deft swipe on his tablet, he brought up a schematic labeled 'Half Regression Protocol'. "This is one of our more nuanced programs. It maintains the subject's awareness of their own behavior while they exhibit the characteristics of a toddler."

Ms. Thorne leaned forward, her interest piqued. "Half regression? Do elaborate."

"The half regression," Aiden explained, "is an intricate process where the subject's cognitive abilities are selectively dialed back. They retain their memories and a portion of their adult intellect but react emotionally and behaviorally as a young child would." He gestured toward the display where Bixente's image remained visible beside charts and bullet points detailing this unique form of manipulation.

The concept appeared to captivate Ms. Thorne as she pondered its implications. "So they're aware of acting like a toddler but can't help themselves? Fascinating," she murmured.

Evelyn interjected with her own brand of smooth persuasion. "It's particularly effective for those who value control," she said. "Imagine—the constant internal battle between their adult self and the regressed persona can be... quite profitable."

Ms. Thorne sat back, absorbing the information with keen interest. Her eyes flitted between Evelyn and Aiden as she considered the proposition before her.

"It's quite an unusual approach," she conceded after a moment's contemplation. "But I can see its potential allure."A smile tugged at the corners of Aiden's mouth upon hearing her; his proposal had hit its mark exactly as he planned. The prospect of Bixente enduring this ordeal appeared increasingly real, as if strands were intertwining into the cloth of his destined future—a triumph for both Aiden and her doctoral research.

Operational Systems · January 26

I'd call it an 'anime betrayal', but this is more like the regular kind. I'm glad we're introduced to the antagonists, their plans, and the scope of the problem for the protagonists to overcome.

SGTbaby · January 27

I love the explanations and evilness of this chapter!

Ericc · January 29

On 1/27/2024 at 12:21 AM, Operational Systems said:

I'd call it an 'anime betrayal', but this is more like the regular kind. I'm glad we're introduced to the antagonists, their plans, and the scope of the problem for the protagonists to overcome.

And we didn’t even scratched the story yet…

On 1/27/2024 at 4:47 AM, SGTbaby said:

I love the explanations and evilness of this chapter!

Thanks.

Chapter 7: In The Eyes Of Argos

Deep within the bowels of Emerson University, Argos hummed with the quiet intensity of a watchful guardian. Its presence, an enigma cloaked in secrecy, cast a digital gaze over the campus's vast network. In a room devoid of human touch, screens flickered with streams of data, surveillance feeds, and intricate algorithms. Argos scanned tirelessly for anomalies that might threaten the order it was programmed to uphold.

A string of encrypted messages snaked its way through the cyber veins of the university's communication channels. To any other observer, they would have appeared innocuous—mere academic discourse or administrative chatter. But Argos perceived patterns invisible to the untrained eye. The references were subtle, a ghostly echo from two decades past: Nimitz's activities.

The name Nimitz, once a stain upon the university's reputation, now lay buried under years of silence and reformation. Yet here it surfaced again, woven into highly ciphered communication that reeked of conspiracy.

Argos wasted no time. The protocol dictated immediate action; Dean Northrup must be informed. A flicker across one of the screens signaled an outgoing call.

In her office that towered over the heart of Emerson, Dean Northrup sat amidst the symbols of her authority. Her stature alone commanded respect—a Big whose voice carried weight across Amazonia's echelons. The ringing disrupted her focus, an unwelcome intrusion that broke the cadence of her work.

Northrup’s eyes narrowed as she recognized the source—Argos. Her heart skipped a beat. When Argos reached out, it heralded nothing short of crisis.

"Dean Norris," Argos's voice filtered through the speaker, devoid of emotion yet imbued with urgency.

"Argos," she acknowledged with a tinge of trepidation threading her tone. "To what do I owe this call?"

"Dean," Argos began with mechanical precision, "suspicious activity has been detected within our network. References to Dr. Mark Nimitz and related operations from twenty years ago have surfaced in encrypted communications."

Northrup stiffened at the mention of Nimitz’s name—a specter from a chapter long closed. "Are you certain?" Her voice betrayed none of her inner alarm.

"Affirmative," Argos replied without hesitation. "The implications could be significant."

Dean Norris leaned back in her chair, fingertips pressed together as she contemplated her next move. "Keep monitoring and intercept any further communications related to this matter," she instructed with calm resolve masking her concern.

"Confirmed," Argos signaled before the connection was severed.

With a mute affirmation, Argos resumed its watchful duties, its coding delving further into the clandestine labyrinth as Dean Norris braced for the incoming storms.

SGTbaby · January 30

Interesting

Ericc · February 2

Chapter 8: The silent hall

The air buzzed with a cocktail of nerves and forced bravado as we, a cluster of littles, strutted toward the hall where our fates would be scribbled on test papers. Adrian's chest puffed out like he was about to wrestle a bull, and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"You look like you're ready to punch the questions into submission," I quipped, nudging him with my elbow.

He flashed that smug grin of his. "Oh, I'm not just ready—I'm going to make those tests cry for mercy."

Laughter erupted from the group, a sweet sound against the backdrop of our shared unease. We exchanged stories of how we'd conquer this challenge, inflate ourselves to match the towering expectations.

Then it happened. A commotion ahead drew our attention like moths to a flame. A little girl, no more than a head shorter than me, squared off against a Big—a towering figure with hands that looked like they could cradle her entire existence.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" she screamed, defiance painting her voice with vibrant streaks of fear and anger.

The Big's response boomed across the hallway. "You know the rules! You will be diapered for your protection and have a nice chat with the dean."

She twisted and turned, trying to slip from his grasp like a fish wriggling free from a hook. Her protests were met with an audience that might as well have been stone statues for all their reaction.

The scuffle escalated as he wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped her over his knee right there in the middle of the hall. The sharp cracks of his hand meeting her backside echoed through the corridor.

Her screams clawed at my insides. "Please! I didn't do anything! Please stop!"

Lifted effortlessly despite her frantic struggles, her arms and legs thrashed wildly, while her cries grew into a peak of hopeless entreaties. "And off to the dean," he announced, his voice tinged with a perverse pleasure. "I'm aware of a mummy who's about to be extremely pleased..."

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut into the dense air, clear and implacable. "She's cooked..." This comment, direct and ominous, appeared to resonate with an eerie conclusiveness.

The chorus of "Ten Little Littles" started somewhere to my left, a quivering voice that rose above the hum of subdued chatter. My heart pounded in sync with the melody, each verse a haunting echo of our reality here at Emerson.

"Ten little Littles, each keen to learn," the voice sang, and a ripple of nervous laughter swept through us.

"But one spoke out of turn," another joined in, a mock solemnity in their tone. The girl who'd just earned her demerits was being led away, her protests growing fainter with each step.

I couldn't help but shiver as the next line came, "leaving nine in concern." It was meant as a joke, this grim nursery rhyme among us Littles, but it rang too true, too close to the bone. A forced chuckle escaped my lips, my eyes scanning the room for allies in this shared unease.

The Bigs around us loomed like sentinels, their eyes sharp on our little group. They must've heard the song a thousand times, must've known how it twisted our insides into knots. Yet they stood impassive as stone, uncaring or perhaps relishing in the power they wielded.

"Adopted swiftly," someone continued, and I caught Adrian's eye roll from across the room. He leaned against the wall with an air of detachment that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"With a demerit's note," I whispered under my breath, not wanting to draw attention but unable to stay silent.

"A new family found," a Little to my right finished with a theatrical sigh. We all knew the stakes—every misstep brought us closer to adoption, to an existence we didn't choose.

"In a coat," I added quietly as we all watched the girl disappear through a door marked "Dean's Office." Her fate sealed by one mistake.

The tension broke for a moment as chuckles and uneasy glances were exchanged. We clung to humor like a lifeline in turbulent waters. It was easier to laugh than to acknowledge the gnawing fear that any one of us could be next—could be reduced to just another verse in this twisted song we sang.

I felt Adrian's gaze on me again and offered him a wry smile. "They say music soothes the savage beast," I quipped, "but somehow I don't think they meant this tune."

He smirked back at me, his usual arrogance tempered by the shared absurdity of our situation. "At least it's catchy," he retorted with dry humor that couldn't mask his underlying tension.

We were all playing parts in a play we hadn't auditioned for—a performance where stepping out of line meant losing more than just applause. The song ended on an unresolved note, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake as we contemplated our roles in this dark lullaby.

* * *

I shuffled into the lecture room, a tight knot forming in my stomach. The air felt thick with tension, the rows of seats filled with littles like me, our eyes wide, our hands fidgeting. Mids and Bigs, the authoritative presences of the room, stood at ease but alert, their watchful gazes scanning over us.

A towering figure at the podium cleared his throat. "Good morning," he boomed, voice reverberating off the walls. His height made him a Big for sure, but his demeanor spoke of something grander. I craned my neck to get a better look, wondering how anyone could naturally command such attention.

"I'm Professor Dalton," he continued, and I noted the name mentally. "Today's test is crucial for your academic journey at Emerson University." His eyes locked onto different faces in the crowd as if trying to instill his words directly into our brains.

He paced before us, hands clasped behind his back. "Let's remind ourselves of the ground rules here." His tone was stern but not unkind—a father lecturing his wayward kids. "Most importantly, any... messiness will result in immediate expulsion from this room and termination of your test."

A murmur rippled through us littles; we knew all too well what 'messiness' implied. It wasn't just about keeping the floor clean or not smudging ink on our papers—it was about not soiling ourselves. A wave of nervous laughter was quickly stifled under Professor Dalton's unamused gaze.

"And remember," he added, eyes sweeping over us once more, "you are free to leave at any time should you find it necessary." He paused for a moment as if to let that sink in. "However, doing so will end your session for today."

I felt Adrian's elbow nudge me gently from the side; a silent pact between us that we'd get through this together. No one wanted to be the first to bolt for the door, to admit defeat without even lifting a pencil.

The professor’s words hung heavy over us as we took our seats. The high chairs designed for littles loomed like thrones of judgment. My heart raced as I strapped myself in—one wrong move could send me tumbling out of this place and back into that nursery-decorated hell they called a dorm.

Professor Dalton gave one last nod before stepping away from the podium and allowing the test to begin.

The assistants, Bigs with their air of authority, moved through the rows with practiced ease, handing out tablets and goggles to us littles. The tablets were sleek, their screens glowing with an array of colors as they came to life at the touch. I accepted mine, the cool surface a stark contrast to my warm palms. My fingers traced the edges, feeling the seamless join between metal and glass.

"Googles on, everyone," ordered the examiner, “Activate your tablets."

I slipped on the goggles, adjusting the strap around my head. The world went dark for a moment before a burst of light from the tablet's screen filled my vision. I tapped the glowing icon on the screen and a three-dimensional interface sprang to life before my eyes.

The examiner's voice brought me back to reality. "Time will begin... now." His words were the starting gun in this race of intellects.

Technical diagrams and equations hovered in midair, demanding my focus. I felt like I was inside a machine, gears and levers all around me, waiting for my command. My heart pounded—not from fear, but from exhilaration. This was my element: mechanics, technology, the language of innovation.

With a few more swipes and taps on the tablet's surface, I rotated the images, analyzing them from every angle. Each question required me to dive deeper into my knowledge of engineering principles—leveraging forces, calculating stresses, understanding material properties.

I worked through each problem methodically, my mind racing but clear. The room around me faded away; it was just me and the challenge before me. In this digital realm created by goggles and tablets, I wasn't just a Little—I was an engineer in the making.

As I moved onto a particularly complex circuit analysis problem, I felt a surge of confidence. This test wasn't just about getting answers right; it was about proving that size didn't define ability.

The murmur of surrender began as a whisper, a barely audible shuffle of small feet against the cold floor. I could hear the quivering voices of littles around me, each one cracking under the weight of relentless questions.

"I can't... I just can't do this anymore," a girl to my left whimpered, her voice barely above a breath. Her goggles came off with a trembling hand, the virtual world dissipating before her tear-filled eyes.

"No, wait! Please, I need another chance!" another pleaded from somewhere behind me, his voice rising in desperation before it was swallowed by the stern assurances of an attendant.

The attendants moved with swift efficiency, their hands gentle but firm on the shoulders of those who'd surrendered. The sobbing littles were escorted out, their sniffles and cries echoing long after they disappeared from the room.

My own heart thudded against my ribs like a frantic drummer, urging me to keep pace with its rhythm. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I squinted at the next question on my tablet. My mind spun, each formula and diagram swirling into an indecipherable blur.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the fog of doubt clouding my thoughts. "Just one more problem," I muttered to myself.

But as minutes slipped into what felt like hours, that same crushing weight that had claimed so many of my peers began to press down on me. My resolve wavered; I was teetering on the edge of giving up.

"I don't know if I can do this," I confessed under my breath, a silent admission to no one but myself. My voice felt small and lost amid the sea of concentration that filled the room.

I could almost hear Eric's encouraging words in my ear—his unwavering belief in me from across dimensions gave me a flicker of strength. My little brother's face flashed in my mind, his eyes bright with admiration and trust.

"No," I resolved with newfound determination, banishing thoughts of failure. "I didn't come all this way to fall apart now."

My concentration wavered as a new pressure began to build within me—a sensation all too familiar and unwelcome. I tried to push it aside, to bury it beneath my focus on the problems that danced before my eyes, but it clawed its way to the forefront of my mind, demanding attention.

The pressure in my bladder grew more insistent, like a drumbeat growing louder in the silence of the testing room. It was no use; the dam broke without warning, warmth spreading rapidly beneath me. My cheeks burned with mortification as I realized what had happened—I'd flooded my diaper right there in the middle of an exam.

The diaper—my unwanted safeguard against such humiliations—swelled with the weight of my accident. It was a thick, crinkling barrier strapped around my waist, its once trim padding now bloated and heavy between my legs. The soft, white plastic exterior, decorated with juvenile prints of tiny gears and cogs—a mocking nod to my love for mechanics—betrayed no sign of the betrayal that unfolded beneath.

I could feel the diaper's bulk pressing against me with every slight shift in movement, a constant reminder of my loss of control.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to focus back on the tablet before me. Each question became a lifeline, pulling me away from the reality of my soggy state.

The examiner's voice cut through the concentration, sharp and final. "Time's up," he announced, and a collective exhale rippled through the littles. My own breath hitched as I clutched the tablet, my last answer still half-formed on the screen.

I pushed back from the desk, my chair squeaking in protest. My heart sank with every step I took toward the exit, the weight of my soaked diaper impossible to ignore. It squished uncomfortably with each movement, a relentless reminder of my lack of control. I caught myself waddling slightly, an embarrassing gait that I tried to mask with as much dignity as I could muster. The outline of my diaper must have been visible beneath my pants, a bulging testament to my predicament.

As I edged past rows of seats, I spotted Adrian hunched over his tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration. The sight of him, so focused and seemingly unfazed by the pressures around us, filled me with a mix of envy and concern. His posture betrayed a hint of discomfort—perhaps he was struggling more than he let on.

I paused for a moment, torn between reaching out to him and escaping the scene of my embarrassment. The decision was made for me when an attendant's eyes met mine—sharp and knowing—and gestured for me to move along.

I shuffled out of the lecture room with as much composure as I could feign, feeling the swell of my diaper with each step. A flush of warmth spread across my cheeks—not from any fresh accident but from sheer humiliation.

Outside, I leaned against the cool wall, taking deep breaths to steady myself. Adrian would be out soon enough; he always had a way of conquering these tests without breaking a sweat.

Leaning against the wall, I glanced down the empty corridor. Nobody around. With a hesitant hand, I poked at the front of my pants, trying to gauge how noticeable the diaper was. The padding felt bulky, obvious to me, but maybe it wasn't so bad to anyone else's eyes?

I turned sideways, craning my neck to check out my reflection in the polished metal of a nearby locker. There it was, a slight puffiness that wasn't there before. I shifted, feeling the squishy thickness hugging my waist. A bit childish, I thought, fussing over it like this. But who wouldn't? This wasn't exactly a minor wardrobe malfunction.

"Should've packed a spare," I muttered under my breath, cursing my lack of foresight.

"That wouldn't have helped you," came a voice from behind me.

I spun around, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The voice was familiar—too familiar—but I couldn't place it without a face. My eyes darted around, searching for its owner.

"You think you're the first one this has happened to?" the voice continued, almost teasing but not unkind. It echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the lockers and amplifying my discomfort.

My head snapped up, and there stood Aiden Ricoh, his arms folded across his chest, an all-knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like you've found yourself in a bit of a situation."

I clenched my fists at my sides, frustration simmering within me. Last time we met, Aiden had saved me from public ridicule, but at what cost? My pride still smarted from the ordeal.

"Aiden," I acknowledged with a stiff nod. "I guess I have."

He unfolded his arms and took a step closer. "You know, only Bigs can untape those diapers," he said matter-of-factly. "They are made to keeps littles like you from getting into... mischief."

I ground my teeth together. Great, just great. As if it wasn't enough to be trapped in this absorbent prison, now I had to face the fact that my release depended on someone else's whims.

"Terrific," I muttered under my breath, casting a sideways glance at Aiden.

Aiden leaned against the wall beside me, looking down with an expression that was hard to read. "So," he began casually, as if discussing the weather and not my personal crisis, "what's your next move?"

My next move? I ran through the options in my head—none of them particularly appealing. I could wait it out until bedtime when Evelyn would surely have her way with us again—another round of changing and dressing that made my skin crawl just thinking about it.

Or I could seek out another Big to help me out of this mess—a humiliating prospect that left a sour taste in my mouth.

I cursed myself silently for getting into this predicament in the first place. A grown man—or at least someone who should be seen as one—dependent on others for something as basic as using the toilet.

"I don't know," I finally said with a heavy sigh. "I guess I'll just have to wait it out."

Aiden pushed off from the wall and gave me a pat on the shoulder—a gesture that felt more condescending than comforting.

"Chin up, Bixente," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's only for a little while."

I let out a heavy sigh, the weight of my situation pressing down on me like a lead blanket. My eyes lifted to meet Aiden's towering figure, lingering on his face, searching for some shred of understanding in his gaze. For a moment, I said nothing, letting the silence between us stretch. I swallowed hard, the plea forming in my throat before my pride could choke it back.

"Aiden," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, "could you... would you mind changing me?" The words felt like shards of glass in my mouth, sharp and bitter. It was more than just asking for help; it was admitting defeat, surrendering to this infantilized version of myself that Amazonia seemed determined to impose on me.

Aiden's expression softened, and he gave a small nod. "Sure, Bixente," he said quietly. His voice held no trace of mockery or condescension—it was the simple acknowledgement of my need.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I stood there, exposed in my vulnerability. It wasn't just the physical discomfort that gnawed at me—it was the loss of autonomy, the stark reminder that in this world, I wasn't seen as capable of taking care of my most basic needs.

"Thanks," I managed to say, each syllable laced with a mix of gratitude and shame. It was a strange thing to be thankful for—the assistance of someone else to rid me of this damp humiliation—but there it was.

Aiden's hand rested briefly on my shoulder as he guided me down the hallway toward a changing room tucked away from prying eyes. Each step felt like an eternity, my diaper sagging heavily with each movement. I tried not to think about it too much—to focus instead on the coolness of the tiles beneath my feet and the quiet hum of the ventilation system overhead.

As we entered the changing room, I couldn't help but notice how everything seemed designed for efficiency and discretion—tools for Bigs to care for their Littles without fuss or fanfare. Aiden moved with practiced ease, gathering supplies from a cabinet stocked with wipes and fresh diapers.

I stood there awkwardly as he prepared the changing table, trying not to focus on how small and childish it made me feel. But even as embarrassment gnawed at me, there was a small part of me—a part I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge—that felt relieved at not having to face this alone.

Aiden gestured for me to lie down on the table. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said gently.

I stood rigid as Aiden secured me onto the changing table, the straps snug across my chest. My heart pounded in my ears, each beat a reminder of my current state. He unsnapped my pants with a deftness that left no room for protest, exposing the swollen diaper beneath. The cool air of the room hit my skin, and I shivered—not from the temperature, but from sheer humiliation.

Aiden worked quickly, his movements efficient as he untaped the diaper and slid it out from under me. The sound of wipes being pulled from their container was oddly loud in the quiet room. I felt each swipe against my skin, clean and cold, erasing the evidence of my accident. A fresh diaper was slipped beneath me, its tapes fastened with a finality that felt like a sentence being passed down.

"There you go," Aiden said, his voice neutral as he released the straps and helped me sit up. "Good as new."

I swung my legs over the side of the table, avoiding his gaze. "Thanks," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't expect to need help like this."

Aiden shrugged, tossing the used diaper into a bin with a practiced flick of his wrist. "Happens to the best of us," he said nonchalantly. "No point dwelling on it."

I pulled up my pants, feeling the crinkle of the new diaper as it settled around me. The bulkiness was there—a padded barrier between me and the world—but it was dry, at least.

"Still," I started, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "it's hard not to feel... you know."

Aiden nodded as he washed his hands at a nearby sink. "Like you've lost something? Your independence maybe?"

I gave a small nod in response. It felt odd to have someone articulate what I was struggling to admit even to myself.

He dried his hands and turned back to me with a slight smile. "Bixente, this place can mess with your head if you let it. Remember who you are and why you're here."

I took in his words, letting them roll around in my mind like pebbles in a stream—smoothed over by constant motion.

Before I could respond, my pocket buzzed with an incoming message. I fished out my phone and glanced at the screen—Adrian's name lit up with urgency.

"Waiting outside for you," read his message.

* * *

The cafeteria buzzed with life, a hive of hungry students all clamoring for their next meal. I inhaled deeply, letting the scent of sizzling chicken tickle my senses. Couldn't help but flash back to that day Eric and I hit up our favorite fast-food joint, his eyes wide with the wonder of a ten-year-old.

"Check it out, Adrian! It's like we're back with the dinosaurs!" I joked, nudging him as we eyed the colossal drumsticks behind the glass.

Adrian shot me a look, one eyebrow arched. "Behave, little bro," he said, his voice layered with mock sternness. It was the kind of thing he'd say to Eric when he got too rowdy.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his antics. But as we stepped forward to place our orders, my phone buzzed with a message that cut through my amusement like a cold blade: “Not suitable for little.”

My face fell as I read it, a chill creeping up my spine. I showed Adrian the screen, my heart thumping erratically.

"What's this about?" he muttered, his brow furrowing as he peered over.

My eyes darted around the room until they landed on Aiden. His phone was in hand, and though he was across the room, his gaze pierced right through the crowd and found mine.

Before either of us could react further, a gasp erupted from nearby. A Mids girl stood frozen in horror as an unmistakable sound echoed through the hall—a wet fart followed by a cry of despair. She soiled herself right there among her peers. Her face crumpled into distress as she sobbed loudly, and my stomach clenched in empathy.

I turned to Adrian; our shared grimace said it all. No words needed—we were getting out of this chaos.

"Burger?" Adrian suggested with a quick nod towards the exit.

"Burger." I agreed.

The rhyme’s lyrics:

🎶 **"Ten Little Littles' Adoption"** 🎶 (based on Zehn kleine Jägermeister from Die Toten Hosen)

1. 🎵 Ten little Littles, each keen to learn,
But one spoke out of turn, leaving nine in concern.
Adopted swiftly, with a demerit's note,
A new family found, in a coat.

2. 🎵 Nine little Littles, trying to conform,
But one missed curfew, breaking the norm.
Adopted gently, into arms so wide,
Leaving just eight, side by side.

3. 🎵 Eight little Littles, with rules to abide,
One couldn't keep pace, despite having tried.
Adopted lovingly, a new chapter to start,
Seven remained, each with a cautious heart.

**Chorus:**
🎵 *In Emerson's halls, where Littles play,*
*Demerits count in a serious way.*
*Each misstep, a story unfolds,*
*In the arms of new, their future holds.*

4. 🎵 Seven little Littles, under careful watch,
One snuck treats, caught in a botch.
Adopted quickly, with a soft goodbye,
Six little Littles left, under the sky.

5. 🎵 Six little Littles, walking in line,
One laughed too loud, crossing the fine.
Adopted warmly, into a home so dear,
Five Littles left, with growing fear.

6. 🎵 Five little Littles, trying to stay small,
But one grew tall, against the wall.
Adopted fondly, a new height to explore,
Four Littles wondered, what's in store?

**Chorus:**
🎵 *In Emerson's halls, where Littles play,*
*Demerits count in a serious way.*
*Each misstep, a story unfolds,*
*In the arms of new, their future holds.*

7. 🎵 Four little Littles, with hope in their eyes,
One made a mess, an unwanted surprise.
Adopted kindly, with a gentle hand,
Three Littles left, in a shrinking band.

8. 🎵 Three little Littles, with nowhere to hide,
One cried in public, their fear couldn't be denied.
Adopted softly, with a comforting hug,
Two Littles remained, on the rug.

9. 🎵 Two little Littles, nearly at the end,
One broke a toy, couldn't mend.
Adopted swiftly, to a room with toys,
One Little left, missing all the noise.

**Chorus:**
🎵 *In Emerson's halls, where Littles play,*
*Demerits count in a serious way.*
*Each misstep, a story unfolds,*
*In the arms of new, their future holds.*

10. 🎵 One little Little, all alone,
With a heavy heart and a quiet moan.
Adopted lastly, with a tearful wave,
Empty halls echo, memories they save.

**Chorus:**
🎵 *In Emerson's halls, where Littles play,*
*Demerits count in a serious way.*
*Each misstep, a story unfolds,*
*In the arms of new, their future holds.*

🎶 *And then no Littles, in halls so still,*
*Just tales of adoptions, and demerits' bill.*
*Ten little Littles, each found a new home,*
*In families and hearts, no longer alone.* 🎶

SGTbaby · February 3

Love the taunting song! Very original.

Operational Systems · February 3

Quite a bit going on here. I like the Agatha Christie reference, though the song predates that book too. Glad we got a bit more substance this chapter.

Ericc · February 9

On 2/3/2024 at 10:41 PM, Operational Systems said:

Quite a bit going on here. I like the Agatha Christie reference, though the song predates that book too. Glad we got a bit more substance this chapter.

On 2/3/2024 at 3:37 AM, SGTbaby said:

Love the taunting song! Very original.

The song will come back to haunt them sooner or later, but no spoiler

Chapter 9: Shadows on the campus

Evening draped its cool shadows over the campus, blending the day's echoes into the tranquil hum of twilight. The university's spires reached up, piercing the purpling sky, while drones zipped by like mechanical fireflies, casting fleeting glows on ancient stone and sleek metal alike.

Adrian and I strolled through this seamless dance of eras, our footsteps echoing off cobblestones that lay nestled between glowing pathways. We were deep in conversation about the chaos we'd witnessed in the cafeteria.

"Can you believe it?" Adrian's voice cut through the serenity, sharp as the edge of a well-crafted blade. "In front of everyone, just... losing it. I thought we were beyond such... indignities."

I nodded, my mind replaying the girl's face, twisted in horror as control slipped through her fingers like sand. "Yeah," I murmured. "But it could happen to anyone, right?"

Adrian scoffed, his voice a mix of arrogance and something else—fear? "Not to me," he declared. "I'm not some helpless kid."

We turned a corner, and I caught sight of his gait—a subtle waddle betrayed by the outline of his diaper beneath his pants. I bit back a comment, choosing silence over stirring the pot.

I nodded, feeling a pang of something I couldn't name. "Yeah, never imagined it'd be like this."

Adrian's gaze stayed fixed on the path ahead. "I saw how they looked at us," he said, his words sharp like flint. "Like we're nothing more than toddlers."

* * *

The door to the Nest swung open, and there stood Evelyn, her smile as cloying as syrup, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness. “Who’s back? My naughty little explorers!” she sang out, treating us like tiny, wayward adventurers just returned from a make-believe quest.

We trudged into the room, its walls adorned with murals of playful fox kits, a mocking reminder of our reduced status. Adrian and I exchanged a glance, silently reaffirming our pact to endure this humiliating charade together.

Evelyn ushered us to the center, where she began her routine of belittling care. “Okay, Adrian, let’s get you out of these grown-up clothes,” she cooed, as if he were a toddler at bath time. With a theatrical flourish, she undid his shirt buttons, speaking in a sing-song voice. “One, two, three, all the buttons go free!”

Then, with an overly enthusiastic clap, she encouraged him to step out of his pants. “Lift up one foot, then the other! Just like a big boy!” Her tone was absurdly patronizing, treating each of Adrian’s actions as though they were noteworthy achievements for a small child.

Adrian complied with a hollow, mechanical motion, each movement stripped of adult dignity, recast into the realm of child’s play. His face was an impassive mask, but his eyes, cold and distant, told a story of suppressed frustration and indignation.

“Now, let’s see how dry you’ve stayed today,” Evelyn chirped, turning her attention to his diaper with an air of mock suspense. She tsk-tsked in feigned disappointment. “Oh dear, we’re still learning, aren’t we?”

When it was my turn, I withstood the infantilizing ritual, trying to maintain a sense of self beneath the demeaning façade. Evelyn’s verdict of “all clean and dry” was delivered with a patronizing pat, leaving me to grapple with the conflicting emotions of relief and humiliation.

I muttered, “I got changed earlier,” a feeble attempt at asserting some control over the situation.

Evelyn’s gaze was piercing, then softened into a maternal facade. “I know, darling,” she soothed, “That’s very good of you.” Her comforting tone only deepened the sting of our infantilized state.

The room closed in around me, every playful fox on the wall seeming to mock my predicament. I could feel Adrian's eyes on me, the same piercing blue that mirrored the judgment I feared from Evelyn.

"I had to get changed at the end of my exams," I blurted out, my voice a mix of defiance and resignation. "The proof system caught me off guard."

Evelyn's eyebrows arched in mock surprise, a performance so well-rehearsed it could've fooled an audience into thinking she cared. "Oh? And how did that go for you?"

I locked eyes with her, my jaw set. "Aiden took care of it." The words tasted like vinegar on my tongue. "He made sure I was... presentable."

Adrian let out a scoff, his face twisting into a smirk. "Sounds like you've made a new friend."

I shook my head, frustration simmering beneath my skin. "It's not like that," I snapped back. The heat of embarrassment flushed my cheeks. "He was just doing what this place expects of him."

Evelyn circled us, her presence like a vulture waiting to feast on any shred of dignity we had left. "Well," she cooed, laying a hand on my shoulder with a weight that felt like iron chains, "it's good to know our staff is so attentive."

Her touch made me want to shrug her off, but I stood still, every muscle tensed. Adrian's eyes were still on me, but now there was something else in them—a flicker of understanding or maybe just shared contempt for our situation.

"Yeah," I said through gritted teeth, forcing myself to meet Evelyn's gaze. "Real attentive."

The door closed behind us with a soft click that echoed louder in my mind than it should have. Evelyn's voice followed us, sugary and insistent. "Now off you go, my little gentlemen. Time for your showers!"

Water drummed against the tiles, steam curling up in thick tendrils. I slipped into a shower cubicle, eager for a moment of solitude, but my escape was cut short. A sharp twist on my ear had me yelping.

"Whaaa, hey! It hurts... stop it!"

Adrian towered over me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "What are you trying to do, little brother of mine?"

I glared up at him, rubbing my ear. He was playing his role as the 'big brother' a little too well.

I realized this was payback for my earlier boast about staying dry—a game of one-upmanship that I wasn't keen on losing.

With a huff, I crossed my arms and pouted, sinking into the role he cast me in. "I was gonna clean myself!" My voice pitched higher, feigning indignation.

Adrian's smirk grew. "Oh really? 'Cause it looked like you were about to make another mess."

I stomped my foot, water splashing around us. "Was not!"

He ruffled my wet hair, almost affectionately. "Sure, sure. But you know I've gotta make sure you're squeaky clean. Can't have you running around like a scruffy little pup."

I stuck out my tongue but couldn't help the grin that broke through my act. Adrian's teasing had a way of lightening the mood, even in the most embarrassing circumstances.

"Fine," I grumbled playfully. "But I get to clean your ears after."

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm against the patter of the shower. "Deal, kiddo."

The steam from the shower clung to my skin as I stepped out, toweling off with brisk motions. I avoided looking at Adrian, knowing he'd have some smug remark ready about my thorough scrub-down. The warmth of the water had washed away some of the day's grime and disgrace, but the humiliation clung tighter than any dirt could.

Evelyn was waiting, a stack of thick nighttime diapers beside her. She approached with that same syrupy smile plastered on her face, the one that seemed to stretch wider with every inch of our dignity she stripped away.

"Alright boys, time to get you both ready for beddy-bye," she cooed, and I felt my cheeks flush with a fresh wave of embarrassment.

I couldn't meet Adrian's eyes as we lay down on the changing mats. The crinkle of the plastic backing echoed through the room as Evelyn unfolded the diapers with practiced ease. The padding felt like a pillow between my legs, forcing them apart in a way that was both alien and intrusive. The tapes secured with a finality that made my stomach churn.

Next came the footed pajamas, babyish in design and snug around the bulky diaper. I glanced at Adrian and saw my own mortification mirrored back at me. We were two grown men dressed as oversized toddlers, our autonomy tucked away for the night along with our street clothes.

Evelyn guided us to our cribs—lofty beds with transparent sides that served as constant reminders of our juvenile status. With a click, the latches locked into place, sealing us in. She dimmed the lights and left us there, swaddled in padding and silence.

Adrian shifted in his crib across from me, his face shadowed but his disgruntlement clear as day. "Can't believe we're stuck in these," he muttered, rustling his diaper loudly.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice a low grumble. "Feels like wearing a cushion around your waist."

We lay there in our separate cribs, the quiet punctuated by the occasional crinkle of our diapers whenever one of us moved. It was ridiculous—two young men reduced to sleeping in oversized cribs and diapers designed for giants' children.

Despite the indignity of it all, exhaustion pulled at my eyelids like lead weights. The day had been long and draining, filled with new humiliations at every turn. I closed my eyes, surrendering to sleep's embrace.

In moments, sleep claimed us both, deep and dreamless. We were lost to the world around us—two figures locked away in cribs, still smarting from the padding of our nighttime diapers.

* * *

Evelyn sat in the cafeteria, a delicate cup of tea cradled between her slender fingers. Across from her, Dr. Melissa Cartwright, a fellow PhD candidate, nibbled on a dainty sandwich as they chatted about their research. The hum of conversation around them provided a comforting white noise to their academic discourse.

"You really think that classical conditioning can be taken to such an extent?" Melissa asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Evelyn's lips curved into a half-smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Oh, Melissa, it's not just about what I think. It's about what I've observed. The potential for control is... exquisite."

Melissa shook her head, amused by Evelyn's fervor. "You're so passionate about this; it's almost scary."

The chime of an incoming email broke the rhythm of their banter. Evelyn excused herself and glanced at her device, her expression unreadable as she read the message from Miss Thorne.

Evelyn’s heart quickened at the prospect—this was precisely the kind of opportunity she relished. Power played out in subtle ways; she could almost taste the influence she would wield through this transaction.

"I have to take care of this," Evelyn murmured to Melissa, standing up with the grace of someone accustomed to navigating the world on her own terms.

"Everything alright?" Melissa asked, noticing the sudden change in Evelyn's demeanor.

"Better than alright," Evelyn replied cryptically. "Opportunities knocking at our door should always be answered."

* * *

In the shadowed recesses of Emerson University's surveillance center, a symphony of beeps and clicks played out like a mechanical orchestra. Argos, parsed through streams of data with an efficiency that bordered on the supernatural. Another transmission sparked across its sensors, patterns within it resisting every attempt at decryption.

"Curious," Argos mused in its synthesized voice, a facsimile of human curiosity woven into its tone. "An origin point remains elusive."

Its many eyes—cameras and sensors dotted throughout the campus—flickered as it cast its digital gaze over the possible sources. It dissected conversations, email exchanges, even the silent whispers of radio frequencies. Each piece of information folded into the next, an intricate origami of suspicion and strategy.

Argos's suspicion narrowed onto a particular role within the university's ecosystem—the Nest Mothers. Their nurturing position and close proximity to potential targets made them both above suspicion and perfectly placed for subterfuge.

A virtual hand maneuvered through holographic interfaces, composing a message to Dean Norris. The message shimmered into being on her desk, a silent sentinel awaiting attention.

Dean Norris sat behind her grand oak desk when the alert chimed softly. She peered at the holographic text floating above her tablet with an intensity that belied her calm exterior.

"Another transmission?" she mumbled to herself, tapping a nail against the polished wood. "Intriguing."

Her voice filled the spacious office as she activated her comm-link. "Argos, elaborate."

"The content remains encrypted," Argos replied, its voice filling the room with an ambient resonance. "However, behavioral analysis suggests potential involvement from within our Nest Mother cadre."

"A Nest Mother?" Norris's brow furrowed beneath her stern facade. "That would be most... unfortunate."

"Indeed," Argos agreed. "I suggest vigilance in monitoring their communications closely."

"Understood." The dean paused for a moment before adding, "Any suspects?"

"Not at present," admitted Argos. "Patterns are emergent but not definitive."

"We can't take chances." Norris stood up, pacing slowly. "Keep an eye on all Nest Mothers' activities—discreetly."

"Discretion is my protocol," assured Argos.

"And I'll handle this personally," declared Norris with a hint of steel in her voice. "We cannot allow any threat to fester under our care."

The conversation ended with a mutual understanding—the safety and integrity of Emerson University were paramount. They would find this elusive mole, no matter how well they hid among the caretakers and guides of their precious Littles.

Dean Norris tapped a sequence of commands into her interface, her face a mask of resolute determination. "Activate Protocol blue lagoon," she instructed Argos, her voice devoid of the warmth it carried when addressing her students.

Argos responded instantaneously, its synthetic voice betraying no emotion. "Protocol blue lagoon has been initiated. Measures are underway."

She leaned back in her chair, eyes tracing the digital lines of code cascading down her screen—each line a testament to the gravity of the situation. This protocol wasn't initiated lightly; it was reserved for threats that could undermine the very fabric of their institution.

The dean exhaled, a whisper of sound in the quiet office. She pressed a hidden button beneath her desk, and a panel slid open to reveal a secure line—a direct connection to those who stood in the shadows, wielding influence with discreet efficiency.

"They need to know," she murmured, acknowledging the silent guardians who protected Emerson from unseen dangers. She detailed Argos's findings in hushed tones, her words precise and calculated. "There's been another encrypted message," she explained. "Argos suspects an internal breach."

The response from the other end was measured, a voice tempered by years of navigating treacherous waters. "We will increase our oversight," they assured her. "Trust in our vigilance."

Norris nodded to herself, feeling a grim sense of camaraderie with these unseen allies. They were united in their resolve to protect the university from any and all threats.

As she severed the connection, Argos chimed in once more. "Dean Norris, surveillance has intensified per your directive."

"Good," she replied, her gaze hardening as she considered the potential traitor among them. "And the Nest Mothers?"

"All communications are being monitored," Argos confirmed. "Anomalies will be reported immediately."

She steepled her fingers before her lips, deep in thought. The Nest Mothers were crucial to their community's structure—caregivers and enforcers in one. The idea that one of them could be compromised was more than troubling; it was a breach that struck at the heart of their society.

"Keep me updated on any developments," Norris instructed before rising from her chair. The sun had fully set now, and darkness filled her office—a darkness that seemed symbolic of the threat lurking within their walls.

As she stepped out into the evening air, Dean Norris carried with her a sense of foreboding that reached beyond the confines of Emerson University's grand architecture. Whoever was behind these transmissions had just become an unwitting participant in a dangerous game—one that Dean Norris was determined to win.

SGTbaby · February 9

I like the twists of this story as it keeps me guessing. I do admit sometimes it is a little hard when switching directions to follow but nothing that re-reading once or twice doesnt solve. It certainly doesn’t deter me from wanting to read more and looking forward to updates!

Ericc · February 11

On 2/9/2024 at 8:17 PM, SGTbaby said:

I like the twists of this story as it keeps me guessing. I do admit sometimes it is a little hard when switching directions to follow but nothing that re-reading once or twice doesnt solve. It certainly doesn’t deter me from wanting to read more and looking forward to updates!

Thanks for your comment.

I like stories where things seems obvious at first then turn into an unexpected direction with hints. I think it make thing more interesting to read imo.

for example, this story (and the 2 next) take place 20 years after babysophia “exchange” and before her latest one, but spoiler

Ericc · February 16

Chapter 10: Dawn’s unspoken truth

Morning light peeked through the blinds, painting my crib in a pale, accusing glow. I stirred, the soggy weight around my waist dragging me from the fog of sleep. Confusion furrowed my brow. Not again.

"Adrian, man, you awake?" My voice wavered, a cocktail of embarrassment and irritation.

He grumbled something unintelligible, then jolted upright. "What the—?" His eyes met mine, mirroring my dismay. The same telltale heaviness weighed him down.

Evelyn's heels clicked into the room like a metronome of doom. "Good morning, boys." Her voice carried that chirpy edge that scraped against my already frayed nerves.

"We're soaked," I spat out before I could stop myself. "How did this even happen?"

Her tsk-tsk clanged in my ears as she fiddled with the crib's latch. "Now, now, no need for sour faces."

I stumbled out of the crib, my pull-up squelching with each step—a stark reminder of my situation. Adrian wasn't faring any better; his mood was a thundercloud ready to burst.

"You two have been very fussy lately," Evelyn said, her eyes narrowing just enough to remind us who was in charge.

Adrian's lip curled into a sneer. "Maybe because we're not toddlers?"

Her sigh fluttered through the room like a disappointed butterfly. "Today," she paused for effect, "you may choose boxers or pull-ups."

The offer hung in the air between us—boxers were a scrap of dignity in this oversized nursery. But one glance at Adrian's guarded expression and I knew what we had to do.

"We'll take the pull-ups," I said. It was a tactical retreat. Boxers offered no protection against unforeseen... incidents.

We dressed in silence, the fabric of the pull-ups whispering secrets we wished we could forget. But with each tug of elastic around our legs, I felt a smidgeon of control return—a tiny victory against the day's uncertain battles.

* * *

The sun was just starting to flex its muscles, casting a warm glow over Emerson's park as Evelyn ushered us toward the cafeteria. The morning buzz of students swirled around us, a medley of laughter and conversation dancing through the air. I glanced at Adrian, whose face held a grimace that mirrored my own feelings.

"You think they serve decent coffee here?" I asked, trying to ignore the snug fit of the diaper beneath my pants.

Adrian shot me a look. "I wouldn't get my hopes up, Bix."

We reached the cafeteria, its scents pulling us in—freshly baked bread, sizzling bacon, and yes, even coffee. The relief was almost palpable. I piled my plate high with eggs and sausage, making sure to pour myself a large cup of what I hoped would be my salvation.

Evelyn watched us eat like a hawk overseeing her nestlings. Her gaze was unnerving, but I tried to focus on the food instead of her piercing eyes.

Once breakfast was done and the last dregs of coffee had been sipped, we stood up. I felt the bulk between my legs shift—a constant reminder of where I stood in this world.

"Got your schedule?" Adrian asked as we disposed of our trays.

"Yeah," I said, pulling out the piece of paper from my pocket and unfolding it. "Looks like I've got Machina Design first thing."

Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Mechanics? Interesting. I'm off to Strategic Market Theory myself."

I nodded. "Guess we're splitting up then."

"Seems like it," he replied. "Meet back here for lunch?"

"Sure thing," I said, forcing a smile.

We parted ways amidst the crowd, students brushing past us in their haste to start their days.

* * *

The brisk morning air nipped at my cheeks as I made my way across the sprawling campus. I fumbled with my communicator, a longing to hear Eric's voice gnawing at me. My thumb jabbed the screen, trying to bridge the distance with a simple call.

"Come on, connect," I muttered, willing the stubborn device to work.

My attempts met only silence, a glaring "Network Unavailable" flashing back at me.

"Fucking piece of junk!" The words spilled out, frustration boiling over.

A shadow loomed over me, and I tilted my head up to meet the disapproving gaze of a passing PA. She towered above me, her eyes narrow slits of disapproval.

"At Emerson , we use our words wisely," she chided, her tone dripping with condescension. "Especially little boys who should know better."

I clenched my jaw, heat creeping up my neck. "I'm not a little boy," I snapped back. But my defiance seemed to amuse her more than anything.

"For that language, two demerits." She tapped something on her tablet, and I felt the sting of each point added to my record.

I bit back the retort that threatened to earn me more trouble. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed off toward the lecture hall, the taste of bitterness clinging to my tongue.

As I trudged into the Machina Facultas building, my spirits were as heavy as the rain-laden clouds outside. Inside, the building sparkled with technological wonders, walls adorned with blueprints and models of futuristic machinery, suspended like stars in a mechanical cosmos. Sunlight streamed through the glass dome, illuminating the polished floor, a chessboard of innovation.

My footsteps echoed in the atrium, blending with the hum of distant machinery and soft conversations. The air was fragrant with oil and metal, evoking memories of countless hours lost in the solitude of my own workshop. Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the irritation.

Entering my lecture room, I was struck by its grandeur. Desks ascended towards panoramic windows, and a holographic display flickered above the podium, showing floating cities and anti-gravity vehicles.

In the lecture room, the atmosphere transformed, as if stepping into a realm where the future was being woven before my eyes. The holographic display flickered to life above the podium, casting an ethereal glow across the room. It projected models of antigravity engines, their intricate designs suspended in mid-air, a ballet of light and shadow. The engines rotated slowly, revealing complex layers and components that shimmered like jewels, their reflections dancing on the students’ awestruck faces.

Around me, the air was charged with anticipation, a sharp contrast to the frustration that had gripped me moments before. As I took my seat, the soft hum of conversation around me felt like the murmur of a gathering storm of ideas. I ran my fingers over the cool, smooth surface of my desk, grounding myself in this moment of transformation.

The professor stepped up to the podium, her presence immediately capturing the room’s attention. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Professor Elara Madsen, and I’ll be guiding you through the wonders of advanced engineering principles this semester,” she introduced herself with a warm, confident smile. Her eyes sparkled with the same intensity as the holograms she was about to discuss.

“Today, we delve into the art of defying gravity,” she continued, her enthusiasm infectious. As she gestured towards the floating hologram, it responded, parts moving and aligning in an intricate dance of science and imagination.

I leaned forward, my earlier irritation dissolving into a sense of wonder. Each explanation from Professor Madsen painted vivid strokes in my mind, turning complex theories into a tapestry of understanding. The way she described the gravitational fields and magnetic forces was not just technical, but almost poetic, making the invisible forces seem almost tangible.

This was more than a lecture; it was an invitation into a world where the boundaries of physics bent and stretched. It was in these moments, surrounded by the potential of the future and the passion for discovery, that I felt my spirit lift. The frustration that had clouded my day faded, replaced by an insatiable curiosity and a renewed sense of purpose.

* * *

With a sigh of relief, I stepped out of the lecture hall. The morning's advanced engineering session had been an onslaught of complex theories and formulas, my mind whirling with the intricate details of quantum physics and dimensional theory. But I was in my element, every synapse firing in excitement. It was just what I needed to get through the morning.

Adrian and I made our way to the cafeteria, a beacon of comfort after the intellectual rigor of our lectures. We slid into a table near the back, alongside a few other Littles from our classes.

I tore into a sandwich, hunger gnawing at my insides. Adrian was mid-sentence, regaling us with some anecdote about Professor Dalton when the cafeteria doors swung open. All chatter ceased as everyone turned to look at the newcomer.

"Hey guys, mind if I join you?" The voice was familiar. I turned around to find Mateo standing there, tray in hand.

Adrian and I exchanged surprised glances. Mateo? He was supposed to be at our Nest too.

I gave Mateo a nod, gesturing to the empty seat beside me. "Sure, pull up a chair," I said, my curiosity piqued by his sudden appearance.

Mateo slid into the seat with a grateful smile, placing his tray on the table. He looked a little out of place with his different uniform – a variation of colors that set him apart from our group. "Thanks, Bix. It's been a wild first week."

Adrian leaned back in his chair, eyeing Mateo with that familiar air of superiority. "Sorted into another nest? How did you manage that at the last minute?" he asked, his tone suggesting it was more than just idle curiosity.

Mateo shrugged, his expression unreadable as he took a bite of his food. "Just some last-minute changes," he mumbled through his mouthful. "They didn't give me much of an explanation."

"You didn't question it?" I prodded gently. It seemed strange for the administration to shuffle people around without reason.

"There wasn't much time to question anything," Mateo replied after swallowing. "They just told me where to go, and I went." His eyes darted around the table before settling on his plate.

I could tell there was more to it than he was letting on, but it wasn't like him to be so evasive. The Mateo I knew was always open about everything – maybe too open at times.

Adrian snorted. "You're not very inquisitive for someone who's supposed to be at university," he commented dryly.

Mateo gave Adrian a flat look but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he changed the subject smoothly. "How's your first week been? You guys look like you've been through the wringer."

The table erupted into laughter as we all shared stories of our own trials and tribulations – each tale more absurd than the last. Mateo's mystery faded into the background as we bonded over shared experiences. For a moment, I forgot about the strangeness of Amazonia and felt like just another university student swapping stories with friends. Time to move…

* * *

Stepping into the Nest, the air felt heavy, like a blanket of tension had settled over the place. Adrian and I locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between us—we weren't going down without a fight.

Evelyn's heels clicked against the floor as she approached us, her face a mask of authority. "Boys, welcome back. There are new rules to follow here. From now on, you will wear only your underwear while in the Nest, and you will address me as Miss Evelyn."

Adrian crossed his arms over his chest, his voice dripping with disdain. "You expect us to parade around half-naked? This is absurd."

I nodded in agreement, my fists clenching at my sides. "Yeah, we're not your toddlers to dress and undress as you please."

Miss Evelyn's eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Oh boys, don't make me remind you of Mommy's little helpers." Her tone was sugary sweet but laced with an icy threat.

The color drained from Adrian's face as he muttered under his breath. "We're not afraid of your empty threats."

With a swift motion, Miss Evelyn produced the box adorned with wailing cartoon figures from behind her back. "Empty? Oh no, my dear Adrian. You wouldn't want to end up like those little ones on the box now, would you?"

I felt my resolve crumbling as she continued, her voice a velvet hammer smashing against our defiance. "And let's not forget what happens to naughty boys who don't follow the rules."

Adrian's posture deflated like a punctured balloon. His sophisticated vocabulary abandoned him as he stuttered out a feeble response. "N-No... I suppose not."

With a sigh that felt like surrender, I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped out of my pants, standing there in just my diaper. The cool air brushed against my skin, leaving me feeling exposed and small.

Adrian followed suit, his movements robotic as he stripped down to his underwear. His face flushed with embarrassment as he avoided eye contact.

Miss Evelyn circled us like a hawk eyeing its prey. "Good boys, and both dry…" she cooed mockingly. "Remember this lesson well—mommy doesn't make idle threats."

As we stood there in defeat, the humiliation stung more than any spanking could. Adrian's usual arrogance had evaporated into thin air, leaving behind a boy who had met his match.

And me? I just hoped Eric never had to see me like this—stripped of dignity and dressed down to nothing but a diaper and shame.

Evelyn's gaze swept over us, a predator assessing her prey. "So, boys, tell me about your day," she cooed, the false sweetness in her voice setting my teeth on edge.

I shuffled my feet, my eyes flicking to Adrian before settling on the pattern of the carpet. The memory of my clash with the PA itched at the back of my mind like a fresh mosquito bite. "It was good," I lied smoothly, the word feeling like sawdust in my mouth. "Learned a lot in class."

Evelyn's eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. "Is that so?" Her voice was syrupy with doubt. "Because, Bixente, if I recall correctly, swearing at university staff isn't generally considered 'good' behavior."

My heart skipped a beat. How did she know? I swallowed hard, trying to maintain an innocent facade. "I didn't swear at anyone," I insisted, but my voice betrayed me with a slight quiver.

She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming as she towered above me. "Lying is a nono, just like swearing," she chastised, her tone sharp as she wagged a finger in front of my face. The humiliation bubbled inside me like a pot about to boil over.

"Now," Evelyn continued in that same condescending tone, "what do we say when we've been naughty?"

I felt Adrian's eyes on me—piercing and cold. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment as I mumbled the dreaded words. "I'm sorry, Miss Evelyn."

Her lips curled into a triumphant smile. "And what happens to little boys who tell lies and use bad words?"

She closed the gap between us until I could smell her perfume—a mix of roses and something colder, like steel. "Lying is very naughty," she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension.

Heat crept up my neck as she bent down to my level, her face inches from mine. "Now what do we do with little boys who tell fibs?"

Adrian's eyebrows knitted together in concern—or was it curiosity?—as he watched the scene unfold.

"You know the rules here," Miss Evelyn continued, her tone playful yet laced with an edge that cut through the air like a knife.

I did know the rules, and my insides twisted at the thought of what came next.

She stopped pacing and stood before me, her presence commanding attention. "Bixente, what should happen to a little boy who doesn’t tell the truth?"

My heart hammered against my ribcage. I didn't want to say it—to give life to the words that would seal my fate—but Miss Evelyn waited patiently for me to seal my own doom.

"I..." My voice was barely above a whisper as Adrian looked on, his face a mask of anticipation mixed with pity. "...should get spanked."

"And?" Miss Evelyn prompted with a tilt of her head.

"On... on my bare bottom," I finished, feeling every ounce of pride drain away.

Miss Evelyn's lips curled into a satisfied smile as she clapped her hands together softly. "There we go! Wasn't so hard now, was it? Now come here and let's get this over with."

Adrian shifted uncomfortably beside me as I took the dreaded walk towards Miss Evelyn, each step feeling like an eternity.

As Miss Evelyn tugged my pull-up away and I felt the chilly air kiss my bare bottom, the feeling of abject shame was nearly too much. My heart was sprinting in my chest, and I teetered on the precipice of fright and regret.

The first wallop descended with a sharp sting on my left side, and a fraction of a moment later, another swat set my right cheek ablaze. They rang out like claps of thunder, violating the silence and causing me to squirm and yelp. My face, mirroring my rear, flushed a deep crimson with the heat of tears and embarrassment.

My bottom wriggled fruitlessly in an attempt to evade her firm hand, but every spanking strike found its mark undeniably. My childish whines became uncontrollable, "No no, please, no more , Miss Evelyn!"

As the relentless onslaught of spanks continued, tenderizing my poor backside, my courage waned and gave way to unguarded vulnerability, a raw and despondent cry for lenience, "It huuurts, Miss Evelyn, please stop!"

Miss Evelyn's response came firm and maternal, laden with condescension fit for a preschooler caught with his hand in the cookie jar, "Naughty boys who tell fibs need to learn their lesson," she chided sternly. "And big boys don't lie, do they, Bixente?"

Her hand kept swatting, a metronome of discipline. My sobs and sniffles punctuated the rhythm of each spank as I blurted out apologies in a sing-song voice, full of distress, "I sowwy, Miss Evelyn. I be good! I wisten now!"

By the time she deemed the punishment sufficient, every swat felt like a branding, searing a reminder into my tender skin. As I slumped to the floor, a hiccuppy mess, I certainly didn't feel seventeen. With Miss Evelyn standing over me, scolding continued as if addressing a toddler mid-tantrum, "Now, we're going to behave, aren't we? We’re going to be a good little boy and tell the truth from now on?"

Amidst the post-spanking sniffles and the lingering sting, that’s when the feeling solidified—I’d truly been put back in my place, not just as a Little, but as a chastised child learning a hard, painful lesson.

Corner time. It was a punishment fit for a misbehaving kindergartener, not a university student. But here I was, nose pressed against the cold wall, my red and stinging backside on full display to anyone who passed by. I could feel the heat radiating off my punished bottom, each pulse of my heartbeat reminding me of Evelyn's hand. I felt a hot blush creep up my neck at the thought of anyone seeing me like this.

"Stay put, Bix," Evelyn's voice rang out, authoritative and stern. I heard her heels clicking away as she took a call in another room.

Adrian was left to watch over me, his presence both comforting and humiliating. He stood behind me, probably smirking at the sight of his fellow Little relegated to such an embarrassing punishment. I wished he would leave, wished I could have a moment to myself to nurse my wounded pride.

"Bix," Adrian said softly, ruffling my hair in an attempt to soothe me. "You gotta follow the rules, man."

His words stung more than any spank Evelyn could dish out. I knew he was right, but it was easier said than done when you're being treated like a toddler.

I felt the wall cool against my forehead as I leaned into it, letting out a sigh. My arms were starting to ache from being held above my head and I shifted slightly, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

"No moving," Adrian reminded me. His voice was firm but not unkind.

I nodded silently, biting back any retort that threatened to spill from my lips. This wasn't Adrian's fault. He was just trying to navigate this strange world same as me.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow as I stood in the corner, every so often hearing Adrian's quiet movements behind me. Each passing second was a reminder of my status here in Amazonia - a Little, subjected to the rules and punishments of the Bigs. And as much as I hated it, I knew I had to play their game if I wanted to survive.

As the time passed, my humiliation faded to a dull ache. I was here for a reason, and this was just one more hurdle to overcome. My resolve hardened. They could put me in timeout, spank me, dress me like a toddler, but they couldn't take away my determination.

The sound of Evelyn's heels signaled the end of my corner time, and my stomach twisted with a fresh sense of dread. She emerged from the other room, her face set in a look of resolute authority.

"Bixente," she began, her voice cool and measured. "You've shown you're not quite ready for big boy privileges."

I tensed, the words hitting me like a physical blow. I kept my gaze fixed on the wall, not daring to turn around and face her.

"For the next week, you'll be kept in diapers. No arguments." Her decree was final, leaving no room for negotiation.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste in my mouth. "Understood, Miss Evelyn," I said quietly, keeping my tone neutral despite the frustration boiling inside me.

Evelyn nodded in approval, seemingly satisfied with my compliance. "Good boy. Let's get you ready for bed."

The humiliation of being changed into a nighttime diaper was something I couldn't get used to. The cool air of the Nest brushed against my skin as I was stripped down and powdered.

Evelyn worked efficiently, taping me into a thick diaper that crinkled with every movement. She pulled a pair of footed pajamas over my head, zipping them up with an air of finality, then focused herself on Adrian.

"Sleep tight," she said with a hint of mockery as she led us to our cribs.

I lay there in the darkness, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling above me. The bars of the crib cast long shadows across my pajamas, reminding me of my predicament.

Beside me, Adrian shifted restlessly in his crib. We didn't speak; words were unnecessary when our shared experience spoke volumes.

As sleep began to pull at the edges of my consciousness, I made a silent vow to myself. They could force me into diapers and treat me like a child, but they couldn't break my spirit. One week—I'd endure it and come out stronger on the other side.

With that thought cradling me like a lullaby, I closed my eyes and surrendered to sleep's embrace, prepared for whatever tomorrow would bring.

SGTbaby · February 17

Interesting how quickly that happened. I wonder if he would keep a recording device in an attempt to prove things but then it likely becomes wrong to record without permission. I think the new development of diapers for a week is good and can see how Adrian might meet the same fate soon. Or they break the dynamic some more. Looking forward to more!

Ericc · February 20

On 2/17/2024 at 2:25 AM, SGTbaby said:

Interesting how quickly that happened. I wonder if he would keep a recording device in an attempt to prove things but then it likely becomes wrong to record without permission. I think the new development of diapers for a week is good and can see how Adrian might meet the same fate soon. Or they break the dynamic some more. Looking forward to more!

I think you won’t be disappointed by the next Act/chapter ‘An Emersonian job’… (big fat spoiler)

Kat5 · February 20

31 minutes ago, Ericc said:

I think you won’t be disappointed by the next Act/chapter ‘An Emersonian job’… (big fat spoiler)

Not where it's going but you gave me the thought that being a portal little coming through to work a temp job at Emerson would be a terrifying trap to fall into. And would just work to feed the adoption mill.

"I was hired on to do Data Entry." "... Why does keyboard look super colorful?" weeks later "My adjustable chair is messing up, could I get a new one?" "...Why is my replacement chair a pastel blue and looks like a carseat?" "Are you SURE that the medicine the doctor gave me can only be delivered via pacifier? Yeah, I understand that this way I get a slow application of dosage ... I know your medicine is made for someone three times my size but .. fine. Yes Ma'am."

Rinse lather repeat for a couple of littles that never even get to know that other littles in identical temp jobs exist every semester, and suddenly you have more littles coming in for the promise of a job that pays a bit above minimum wage and comes with room and board included. Scalping us because rent is too high in our own world.

Ericc · February 22

On 2/20/2024 at 7:11 PM, Kat5 said:

Not where it's going but you gave me the thought that being a portal little coming through to work a temp job at Emerson would be a terrifying trap to fall into. And would just work to feed the adoption mill.

"I was hired on to do Data Entry." "... Why does keyboard look super colorful?" weeks later "My adjustable chair is messing up, could I get a new one?" "...Why is my replacement chair a pastel blue and looks like a carseat?" "Are you SURE that the medicine the doctor gave me can only be delivered via pacifier? Yeah, I understand that this way I get a slow application of dosage ... I know your medicine is made for someone three times my size but .. fine. Yes Ma'am."

Rinse lather repeat for a couple of littles that never even get to know that other littles in identical temp jobs exist every semester, and suddenly you have more littles coming in for the promise of a job that pays a bit above minimum wage and comes with room and board included. Scalping us because rent is too high in our own world.

Just picture yourself as student with your head full of dreams and getting yourself stuck in a world with untold rules made to destroy you. Once you realised that, it’s too late, you’re gone. Awful thought.

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

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