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The original story is in french. It's just a google translation but hope you like it. 

 

First chapter: welcome to maternarchy

 “What is this horror? »

 

Loni didn't expect much, but calling his favorite image from her little secret collection a "horror" still made his heart ache.

Dani was his childhood friend. Well... early childhood. Being only twenty years old, they could not yet quite claim the title of "big boys". They were both boarders at the Nadal 2 mixed university and had, of course, managed to be in the same room. There was only one large bed on which they were lying face down, eyes focused on the screen of a multitasker. They were already washed and in their pajamas, with a thick night diaper around their buttocks.

Dani was a model boy: energetic, perky, a little crazy, kind to his classmates and, most of the time, docile with women. He was still a boy who didn't mind when he had the opportunity to do forbidden things without getting caught. Loni was the brain. He had just proven it again by managing to unlock the child lock on his multitask. He had promised Dani to show him images of naked women but, in exchange, he first wanted to show his other forbidden images that fascinated him, starting with an old photo from the very beginning of the digital age of a cross species between a human and a gorilla.

“This, my dear and ignorant friend, is a boy of the twenty-first century, or, to put it as it was then, a MAN.

_ Well, he’s super ugly.

_He was six feet tall. You realize ? We can't even get to his nipples. One hundred and thirteen pounds all muscle! See all those hairs on his chin that look like a second head of hair? It was called a beard and every boy over sixteen had it. Except that many shaved it to highlight their big square jaw. They also had hair all over their bodies but again, some shaved it off to show the muscles underneath. His job was a sport that was half a ball game and half a fighting game.

_A sport is not a job.

_ At the time yes, when you were really good. And having a sport for a job meant you could train all day. By just training, they were at least as strong as a modern woman who doesn't workout at all.

_ Yeah, really useful... that doesn't make up for being ugly enough to scare a louse.

_ For you they are ugly, but at the time the ladies were crazy about them! They even sold calendars with naked photos of them.

-Speaking of photos and nudes, will you show me these naked women? »

 

Loni sighed inwardly. He had been wrong to think that his friend could understand his interest, when he wasn't even sure he understood it himself. Dani didn't care what made the ladies of the past turn their heads. He only thought about those of today. It was to please them that he still wore full diapers when the training pants would have been enough for him. To please them too, he wore colorful clothes with cute patterns, exaggerated his emotions, did stupid things on purpose, and often asked for help with things he could very well have done himself. Physically, he was average. In the high average perhaps, but it was missing two or three small details to be a real canon. First of all, he was a little too tall, measuring almost six feet. His hands and feet were a little too big. He had a little hair under his arms and around his willy, as well as a little fuzz on his cheeks that his mother still forbade him to shave. He was one of those people who didn't have to worry too much, who would inevitably find a nice mother-wife to take care of them, but who couldn't allow himself to have too many weird ideas or interests. Looking at images of naked ladies, spying on boarding school girls in the shower, having mashed potatoes fights in the canteen or playing ball in the hallway, it was forbidden but it was what was expected of a normal boy. It was even a lot less weird than never disobeying at all. This reassured the girls that we were a boy like any other who wouldn't pose any problems other than those we expected.

Loni was different. He was one of the three cutest boys in the class. The girls would have been crazy about him even if he had hyper-maturity syndrome. Very early on, perhaps at twelve years old, Loni had understood that among boys, there were the very cute ones and the others. The really cute ones were the ones whose teacher or boysitters checked their diaper three or four times a day “just to be sure.” Those who were helped to wash and dress themselves even when they knew how to do it on their own and asked nothing. For the same mischief, the other boys had lines to copy or were deprived of recess. For the very cute ones, it was a little spanking. Always the little spanking and always on the bare bottom to get a good eyeful. Loni couldn't even remember the last time he was punished with anything else than a mild bare bottom spanking. 

“Boys, it’s bedtime! » crooned a voice behind the bedroom door. It was Delphine, a student from their year who, in the evening, watched over boys in her class, eight in all, in exchange for a free room. She knocked on the door and politely waited for permission to enter before opening it. There was no doubt that if the response had waited too long, she would have gone in anyway, suspecting that the boys were doing something forbidden. Fortunately, through practice, Loni only needed a handful of seconds to switch the screen of his machine to a completely innocent animated series.

At six feet tall, Delphine had a hard time staying in a boys' room where she had to lower her head to avoid bumping into it. She was rather pretty with her slim figure, her harmonious face neither too round nor too dry, her long, well-kept black hair and her discreet smile, haughty but with a friendly touch. A smile that said: 'I'm the adult, I'm in charge and I wouldn't hesitate to put you back in your place if you make me, but I'd still prefer everything to go smoothly . » Honestly, she wasn't the worst supervisor they'd ever had. Loni even suspected her friend of having a little crush on her.

“Here we go, we turn off the screens and get under the sheets. Teeth done? Are the comforters here? GOOD ! Let's see if your little behinds are still dry! » Loni grumbled under her breath: they had put them on the potty and diapered them for the night half an hour ago. How could they have gotten wet in such a short time? It was probably just an excuse to grope them again, especially him. Like every night, she pulled his pajama bottoms just a little lower and trailed her hand a little longer than necessary for a simple check. Dani, for his part, smiled with all his teeth, always happy that a girl takes care of him, especially when she was pleasant to look at. Finally, she tucked them in carefully and gave each of them a big kiss on the forehead.

 
 
 

 

 

 

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Like every morning for weeks now, Loni's first action upon opening her eyes was to slip a hand into her pajama bottoms to feel her own diaper, looking for the slightest sign of heaviness. Another night without bedwetting. The fifteenth in a row! If he lasted a whole month, they would let him wear training pants even at night, something very few boys his age could boast of.

Dani was wet, but that didn't stop him from stretching like nothing and yawning until his jaw almost dropped. Happy are the boys of few ambitions.

As if some kind of sixth sense was setting her in motion, Delphine entered their room right at that moment to get them out of bed, checking along the way who was clean and who wasn't. A few moments later, the eight boys from the boarding school gathered in the common bathroom where eight potties awaited them, each with a first name, and a huge bathtub full of strawberry-scented foam. To be admitted to the boarding school, boys had to take a dose of odor stopper every first Monday of the month, so they could all poop at the same time in the same room without it causing the slightest problem. Once Delphine had stripped them of their diapers, they would each sit on the potty bearing their names, following a well-established routine. The supervisor observed them with pride. For most students, the idea of having to bathe eight little gremlins at the same time every morning seemed like a vision of hell. With boys of fifteen or sixteen, that was surely true. At twenty, they were much calmer and more organized, not to mention becoming candy for eyes.

“Philip! We don't get rowdy in the water. Once ! Bastien, raise your arms a little higher, my kitten. Yes, it tickles, there’s nothing we can do about it. Grit your teeth, show that you are courageous. Gooood boy. Your willy now. Philip, twice! The third, you're deprived of toys before class. Loni, your turn, darling. Raise your arms!"

Loni was the prettiest of the eight, but also the most complicated. Not that he does a lot of mischiefs, quite the contrary. Only, he never asked for cuddles and didn't seem to take any pleasure in being taken care of. When she washed him or diapered him, he didn't smile and his willy always remained soft. He seemed to be waiting for it to pass while thinking of something else. However, she was careful to be even more caressing with him than with the others in the hope of awakening his sensuality, but nothing worked. He probably would have cleaned himself alone if the rules allowed it.

After the bath came dressing: five complete diapers, three training pants for the most advanced, and eight uniforms in total: short pants, high socks, shoes and white shirts. A little scarf would have looked nice but women had given up on it because the boys from previous years kept losing them or using them to invent dangerous games.

Finally, we headed to the refectory where the educators took over while she poured herself a large cup of black coffee before starting class. Watching the little ones smear themselves with jam, she began to dream of having one of her own. One who would jump into her arms when she came home from work, who she would breastfeed once or twice a week and who she would take care of as she saw fit, without having to answer to anyone. A boy, above all, with whom she could finally take the time to do things right, without having to look at the clock thinking about the other seven. She would wrap her little darling in love every day. She would rock him to sleep every night and wake him up every morning by gently stroking his hair. Not for a moment could he forget how much he was loved. She would also be much more severe than the school rules allowed. Not for everything, of course: when you like boys, you don't make a big deal about dirty clothes or a broken trinket. On the other hand, if she caught him drinking alcohol or playing with sharp objects, he would be good for to a spanking that really looked like a spanking, not a dozen ridiculous little slaps that didn't even make the most sensitive ones cry. . Kind education had good sides, that was undeniable. That said, when a boy did something dangerous to himself, true kindness was to make sure it was the first and last time.

She had not emptied her cup when her multitask informed her of a new message. Scylla, her childhood friend, “the highborn” as she sometimes called her to tease her, had just arrived on campus and invited her to join before the first class. She took one last look at the boys' table: Philippe had just spilled his still half-full bowl of chocolate milk while bickering with his neighbor. In addition to the table and the floor, he had stained two of his comrades. Of course, since he “didn’t do it on purpose,” he only got five minutes in the corner. What a great joke! And heckling at the table, hadn’t he done it on purpose? He knew that it was forbidden and why it was. If it had been up to her, Philip would have spent the next thirty minutes copying lines. Except that obviously, he would never have dared doing this if Delphine had been the supervisor. Everyone agreed that Loni was the most intelligent but Phil was the most cunning: he knew very well with whom he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it. Well... if educators with years of study in psycho-socio-pedagogical-demago-bullshit  thought it was the right thing to do, they must be right. And if they were wrong, that was their problem. The boys were clean when Delphine took them to the dining hall, her responsibility ended there.
 
 
 

Between breakfast and lessons, the boys had half an hour of free time in the toy room, although with a few restrictions: no physical games because we were just after a meal, and no video games because... because! The toys were pretty cool the first few weeks. By the middle of the school year, the boys knew them all by heart. Same for picture books. And since we couldn't play sports, many of them had fallen back on drawing, a discipline in which Loni excelled.

“A boy can understand anything as long as he’s interested,” his mother always said. She was convinced that, although they had much lower levels of concentration and self-discipline than women, boys were just as intelligent. When she noticed that her son was interested in drawings, she took the time to explain to him anatomy, perspective, light... Above all, she had him draw simple geometric shapes to teach him to think in three dimensions. Building on these experiences, he returned to drawing his favorite heroes with much greater success. This seemingly innocuous experience had transformed him. Before, he was an ordinary guy who made a real effort when he hoped a woman would reward him or congratulate him, and who the rest of the time didn't take anything seriously. Faced with his first correct drawing, he understood that it was also worth working for yourself, to achieve a goal YOU had set for yourself. The teachers' compliments on his drawings were worthless: they gave them to everyone, even the worst scribblers. It didn't matter: he knew that his level was equal to that of an adult woman. Not from a professional of course, but from an adult! That was cool!

An educator clapped her hands: it was time to put away the toys, pencils and everything else for class. The classroom was bright, colorful, covered with drawings reminiscent of a spelling or math rule. There were potties at the end of the class for urgent needs, but we could also ask to go to the bathroom if it wasn't too urgent. You first had to stand next to your chair and wait for an educator to check the diaper to be allowed to sit down. The ten external boys arrived one after the other and joined their classmates. There was Damian, “Damy”, the walking disaster who rushed first and thought too late, Sylvain the super handsome guy, the only one who could boast of being even cuter than Loni, and on the contrary Knut, the little terror . He was a good six feet tall, had a shoulder width wider than his peers, and an almost square jaw, all traits that gave him a lot of confidence in his fists but virtually none in his chances of finding a mommy-wife, hence his bad temper. Unfortunately, and unlike most little bullies, Knut was far from stupid. He knew very well how the ladies looked at Loni or Sylvain, and how they looked at him. He didn't care that the educators kept telling him that he too was cute in his own way. He wanted to be cute in the way that turned the heads of girls his age and that wasn't the case. He was violent with the other boys because that was the only advantage he had over them, and all the spankings in the world didn't stop him from doing it again. Damned for damned, he even took up bodybuilding. So, if a ten-year-old girl would have always mastered him without problems, he was a real colossus compared to the other boys. As he walked towards his chair, Sylvain gave him a little sneer, full of disdain, which the educators did not notice. Knut's face turned red in an instant. He grabbed Sylvain who covered his head, screaming as if he was being skinned alive, before receiving the slightest blow. A moment later, the educators were on Knut and put him in the corner with three good slaps on the buttocks, hard enough for him to feel them despite his diaper. Barely had their backs been turned when Sylvain, who was definitely recovering very quickly, sent a knowing wink to Loni, who would have been fine without it.

The class always started with a reading exercise. The boys took turns reading a paragraph from their course book entitled: “Mommy will always love you. » The stories were very repetitive. Each time, a boy did something wrong. A lady who, depending on the boy's age could be his birth mother or his mother-wife, lectured him, punished him if needed, then took him in her arms and repeated that she loved him with all her heart and would always love him, and that was even why she was strict with him. Today, it was the story of a twenty-year-old boy who went to a birthday party where all the other boys were over thirty and hadn't worn diapers for a long time. After a whim, his mother-wife agreed to let him wear underwear like the grown-ups, on the condition that he was very careful. What was supposed to happen happened: the little one wet his pants in front of everyone. His mother cleaned him tenderly, put a little diaper on him and cuddled him for a very long time to console him, explaining to him that he still had plenty of time to grow. And even if he never got potty trained, of course, Mom would still love him. Well... It still wasn't the silliest story we'd read in this class. At times it was even almost moving.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Yes, Google Translate is hopeless at this. The problem is that, in French, possessive adjectives (his, her) agree with the thing they describe, not the person the thing belongs or relates to. So both “his mother” and “her mother” are « sa mère » in French. Google has to guess whether to translate « sa » as “his” or “her” from the context.

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On 2/22/2024 at 8:34 PM, littlebopeeper said:

It looks like the translation is making a mess of male and female.  Loni seems to be male in some sentences, and female in others.

Woopsie! Maybe a native english speaker could help me to correct the text? 

 

Anyway, here is the next part. This time, it's just talking between two female character cause I have to prepare the action. 

 

 

The cafeteria where the women had their meals looked out, through large windows, onto the boys' playground. As long as we were too far away to understand their nonsense or have our ears torn by their screams, there was nothing more relaxing than watching boys play in a place provided for this purpose, where they couldn't break anything... except maybe -watch them sleep quietly but you shouldn't ask too much.

 

Delphine was coming out of a particularly boring class with a verbose teacher whose main skill was to spend two hours of class explaining in every possible way what would have taken five minutes in an everyday language. A parasite. It seems that she was brilliant in her youth. If it was true, it was a valuable warning about the kind of cocky, pretentious imbecile you become the day you think you've arrived. Besides, his boy was poorly brought up. Well... of course, Delphine was not a reference: she found half of the boys poorly behaved, but this one was among the worst.

She was grumbling when her friend Scylla came to join her at her table. Latin with a touch of Arab blood, very tall even for a woman of her century, muscular like a panther, energetic, ambitious, enthusiastic... next to her, Delphine sometimes had the effect of already being an embittered old witch. This impression was further aggravated by the fact that Delphine's studies revolved around virtual reality, a field which would easily provide her with a stable profession but in which everything had already more or less been invented, while Scylla was studying a field of the future if there was one: humanoid robotics. She had a chance to become a pioneer in her field, to have a career full of risks, discoveries and adventures.

What brought the two young women closest, in short, was their shared passion for boys. For that at least, Delphine was a young adult like any other in the middle of her “boy crazy” period. So they started by exchanging comments on trendy boy bands, the most adorable male actors, the latest collections of clothing or toys...

“It's unfortunate,” Delphine remarked, “but women tend to want to buy their boys a toy not because they think he'll find it particularly amusing, but because he'll be really cute with it in hands.

_Yeah, replied her friend, it’s not glorious but it’s human. I guess we can do it 50/50.”

Outside the boys were laughing, jumping, climbing, running in all directions, screaming war cries and, at the slightest scratch, a supervisor rushed at them armed with bandages and disinfectants.

“Next year,” Delphine continued, “one in three supervisors will be replaced by a robot nanny. The decision has been made. »

Scylla frowned. “Do you really want to talk about this? If it's to make you angry again...

_ No, promised I won’t get angry. I still disagree and... I admit I sometimes had somewhat strong reactions but that's okay, I digested it all. On the other hand, I would continue to campaign against the legalization of robots with a disciplinary program. »

Scylla shrugged. “You know what women said fifty years ago: MY boy will not be fed or dressed by a machine. Twenty years later, MY boy will not be bathed, diapered or rocked by a machine. Ten years ago, MY boy won't be prostate milked by a machine. Each time, the apocalypse was predicted and each time, the machines proved themself worthy : four times fewer domestic accidents in homes equipped with a nanny robot.

_ Body care is one thing, but here we are talking about allowing a machine to punish a human, including spanking. A machine capable of hitting a human, however lightly, sounds like the start of a disaster scenario.

_ So yes… but: On the one hand, if you fear a "I robot"-like scenario, remember that our nannies are not war machines. They are just built to be able to overpower a boy and remain much weaker than an adult woman. I'm not even talking about me, but a normal woman who isn't especially sporty. Then, they control the power of their movements about one centijoule, so there is no chance of them hurting a boy by accident. Last but not least, they ignore anger, fatigue, panic and anything else that could push a woman to go too far. From a purely security point of view, it is rather spanking by a human hand that should be prohibited.

_And I suppose your metal nannies can understand why a boy misbehaves? They can make the difference between a boy who seeks to test the limits as they all do on occasion, and another who is feeling very bad and does not need punishment but listening and comfort?

Scylla frowned, not out of annoyance but because the flame of ambition was kindled within her.

" No... not yet. But it’s a good area for improvement, I would talk to my teachers about it. »

That's how Delphine contributed despite herself to the advent of the Frankenstein's creature she wanted to prevent.

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