Other than the smaller size and brighter colors, the cafeteria at the nursery school was surprisingly normal, though there were quite a few more grown-ups roaming around, making sure there was no choking going on, than you’d find at a regular school. Even the food I saw in front of the kids was childish, sure, but not to the extent that it could have been – chicken nuggets, rice, broccoli, apple slices. While I wouldn’t choose that for a meal, I wouldn’t say no to it, either.
Unfortunately, that was out of my hands. Rather than taking me to collect my food, as I’d expected her to, Ms. Shelly led me to the table where the rest of the class was sitting, to two open seats near the head. I blushed as the kids looked up at me, sure they could tell the struggle going on inside of me, and what I’d almost just done. Ms. Shelly didn’t seem to notice, just set my diaper bag on the table and began to rummage through it.
The first thing she took out was a pink, plastic bib, which I found tied around my neck before I could even try to stop it, or tell her I didn’t need it. Nobody else at our table had a bib, of course, a fact I was sure they were all aware of. Then, to make things even worse, she set a baby bottle in front of me. “Drink this while I get your lunch ready,” she instructed. I looked over at her, pleadingly, but I could find no mercy in her gaze. The apple juice in the bottle was a bit warm, and had the same strange texture to it as the other juice I’d been drinking lately. It was enough to make me wonder if there was just something wrong with my tongue. It would be hard to judge, since I’d mostly been eating oatmeal lately, and that tasted gritty and gross to me anyway.
And then, as I reluctantly sucked on the bottle, I watched in horror as she pulled out several large jars of baby food, setting them in front of me in a row, first strained pea, then prune, finally, I guess as a dessert, banana. I groaned from behind the nipple, hoping beyond hope that it was a joke.
“You have to eat,” she told me as she heard my wordless protest. “Don’t you like these?” I knew it was probably a trap, but I shook my head anyway. “If you want, I can mix them all together and you’ll be done with them quicker.”
I nearly gagged at just the thought of that, then shook my head vehemently. Not only would probably be incredibly nasty, it wouldn’t really go down any faster, since there would be the same amount.
“Just thought I’d offer,” she shrugged, opening up the jar of strained peas and taking out a pink spoon. “Now put down your bottle, sweetie, so I can feed you.”
“I can feed myself,” I informed her, moving my bottle only slightly away from my mouth. That wasn’t about to happen, however, and she let me know by snatching the bottle away and replacing it with a heaping spoonful of green mush. Almost instinctively when I felt the texture and tasted it, I wanted it out, sending some of it gushing out the sides of my mouth, down my face and onto my bib, making me look, I realized, even more like an infant. Ms. Shelly scooped it up off my face and shoveled it back in, then followed it up with another over-full serving. There was no escape from it, and just when I finally cleared out the first jar, it was on to the prune. It tasted, if it were even possible, worse than the pea, meaning even more of it wound up decorating my bib, though more than enough got inside me. The banana wasn’t bad, but by then I was feel quite full. Ms. Shelly would hear none of that, barely giving me time to say it in between bites, and then, when she was finally done, she stuck my bottle into my mouth, holding it there until I put my hands around it.
My stomach grumbled, clearly having trouble finding room for all this new food when there was so much already in me, and I was squirming and fighting to keep that from coming out. I looked around the table as I drank the bottle, surprised to see how slowly the other kids were eating. We might be there a while, I realized, and I wasn’t sure if I’d have that long. Was it going to happen here, as I sucked at a bottle, still wearing a bib smeared with gooey, sticky baby food, the same kind that had just been shoveled into my mouth? Even as I thought it, I felt a cramp, one that made me bite the nipple of the bottle from the pain of it. I pressed my bottom into the seat of the chair, struggling to keep my own prophecy from coming true.
“Is there anything wrong, Holly?” Ms. Shelly asked me sweetly, and I just glared at her while I stopped myself from giving her a show. “Are you still hungry? I can see if I can find anything else for you to eat!”
“No,” I groaned, shaking my head. I couldn’t imagine eating another bite without exploding.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go hungry, sweetie.” She reached over, patting my full tummy, then starting to rub it again. I tried to swat her hand away desperately, knowing what she was trying and also fully aware that I was in no shape to resist it again. “You’re so fussy!” she teased me, thankfully stopping with one final pat. “Do you need a change?” Before I could answer, she was up and walking to her assistant, asking in a stage whisper loud enough for me and anyone else to hear, “Will you be all right here? I think Holly needs a diaper change and a little extra nap time. Besides, she needs cleaning up – she’s a messy eater.”
“Go ahead,” Ms. Marian told her, and just a few seconds later, I was being marched back through the lunch room, still waddling in my even wetter diaper, stomach in even more pain, now in a food-covered bib, while my face was in similar shape. Ms. Shelly took me back to the classroom, and from there back to the bathroom, where she took off my bib and rinsed it off, then roughly washed my face. When she was satisfied, she lifted me up onto the changing table, putting me on the side so my feet dangled off the edge, letting her pull off my boots, putting them next to the diaper bag. She removed my vest as well, folding it and putting it on top of the boots.
She pushed me onto my back and strapped me down so she could dig in the diaper bag for a fresh diaper, and a thick soaker pad that she applied to the center, making sure I could see her doing it. “I don’t want a heavy wetter like you leaking during naptime,” she informed me. “Because, as you know, once you’re down for your nap, you’re not to get up again until I tell you it’s over. Maybe we should use two. What do you think? Oh, what do you know? We’ll do two.” She smiled as she saw me squirm as she put on a second soaker, then untaped my current diaper.
This was it, I knew. This time, I knew she wasn’t going to let me out of this diaper until I’d pooped it, even if it meant extending my naptime for the rest of the day, not that she was going to need to. Once it was taped on, there was no turning back. “Please!” I squeaked pitifully. She stopped for a moment, looking at me curiously. “Please, let me use the potty!”
“A big baby like you doesn’t deserve the potty,” she informed me. “Look at how wet you made this diaper!”
“Please!” I tried again.
To my surprise, she unstrapped me, lifting me down to the floor, and then removing my jumper. I started for the toilet, but she stopped me. “Beg,” she ordered. I looked up at her in confusion, and she repeated it. “Beg, if you really want to use it. Show me.”
I pressed my palms together and stared up at her with pleading eyes. “Please, please let me.” She shook her head, and I carefully got down on my knees. “Please, I just want to use the potty.”
“Please, let me use the potty,” I said. “Please don’t make me use my diaper, please.”
“Keep going,” she instructed. “Why are you asking me? Oh, and, Laura? Don’t you dare have an accident on this floor before you’re done, young lady.”
“B-But…” I flushed, before giving up. I had no way of controlling when, or if, I went, and the whole morning had been proof of that, as I’d tried everything I could think of to stop myself from wetting my diapers, and failed every time. I was just going to have to hurry, and, I was sure, that was Ms. Shelly’s whole plan. “I need you to let me because I’m just a baby, and you’re a grown-up, and you’re in charge of me,” I fumbled, not quite sure what she wanted me to say. “Please, I…” I squirmed, feeling a trickle of urine run between my legs. I clamped them even further closed in desperation. “I’m completely in your control, and you can do whatever you want with me. So I’m just asking, please, this once, just let me use the potty!”
“You’re right,” she beamed, more than happy to confirm all my suspicions. “You are in my control. And you know what I want? I want to see you toddle up to me in a full diaper and beg me for a change. So your little bottom is going right into your nice, thick diaper until you can do that.” She picked me up, then wrinkled her nose as she looked down. “I also think you’re going to clean that up once I have you in your diaper, so you don’t make an even bigger mess.”
Stepping around my little puddle, she put me back on the changing table, not bothering with the straps this time before cleaning me up, starting with my crotch so she could shove the extra-thick diaper beneath it, then moving down my legs before going back up to sprinkle a liberal amount of baby powder on me before taping me in. The soakers gave the diaper, which I was starting to get used to, unfortunately, just enough extra bulk for the whole thing to feel strange between my legs again.
“Sit up,” she ordered, turning me so my legs dangled over the front of the table once I’d done so. Unsurprisingly, it was to give me more pills and water before lifting me down and handing me a damp paper towel. “Now clean up your mess.”
Feeling quite silly, I carefully knelt down in front of the spot I’d been doing the same thing in just a minute or two before, though this time I wouldn’t have been able to squeeze my legs together if I wanted to. Not that it would matter – with all this padding between them, there was no way I’d be leaking on the floor again anytime soon. My stomach rumbled ominously beneath my pink shirt, making me sink my bottom down lower onto the tiled floor, pressing the diaper up against me.
“No, no,” she shook her head. “Get on your hands and knees and do it.”
The cramps in my tummy were still going, and getting stronger, leaving me unable to do much more than sit there, squirming, not able to even beg her, again, for mercy she likely wasn’t going to show. She didn’t like that, of course. “On your hands and knees, Laura, or I’ll make you crawl the rest of the day!”
I opened my mouth, though I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but all that came out was a quiet grunt. I was sure I could weather this, if she just gave me another few seconds. It wouldn’t be much, but it would buy me a little more time, and…
It happened almost automatically, my fear at what she’d do to me, or have my nanny do to me, overriding my sense in a moment of panic. I bent forward, sliding my hands out in front of me, trying to make her see I’d do what she wanted just as soon as I could. But I slid just a little too far, felt my bottom lift off the floor. I immediately panicked, trying to drop back down, but it was already too late. As soon as they had an empty space to fill, my bowels were more than willing to do so. I gasped as I felt the mess starting to push out, beyond my control or ability to stop it.
My cheeks turned red from the strain and the humiliation as my body took over, lifting my butt rather than lowering it, forcing my face down until it was against the floor, staring right out at my previous accident as I tried to complete my current one. I felt it hit the back of my diaper, then bulge it out before spreading across the seat, a slow, unstoppable journey that left me short of breath, only to be followed up by another, softer surge of soft mush, ballooning the seat of my pants out even further.
“There’s a good girl,” Ms. Shelly praised me, snapping another picture before patting my bulging diaper, making me flush and squirm away weakly, every movement reminding me of the inescapable nature of what I’d just done. “Come on,” she said after a moment or two, “clean up your little mess so we can get your nap started.”
I pouted, staring up at her unhappily. “D-Don’t I get a change?”
She shook her head. “I just changed you, sweetie. You should have just gone before that. Now you’re going to have to wait.” I felt tears forming at the corners of my eyes as I wiggled about in my full pants, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “On your hands and knees,” she reminded me.
I lifted myself on shaky arms, wiping at the wet spot with paper towel after paper towel, until Ms. Shelly stopped handing them to me, making me assume she was satisfied. She grabbed my jumper, but when I started to stand so she could put it on me, she stopped me. “I think you should crawl out,” she said. “Then I’ll get you dressed again once you’re out there.”
I knew it wasn’t a suggestion, that I had no choice, so I sighed and stayed on my hands and knees, waiting for her to open the bathroom door so I could crawl out, glad to see the other students hadn’t somehow snuck back into the room without making a racket. My diaper sagged behind me, swaying slightly with its heavy load, while I crawled beside Ms. Shelly, feeling utterly and completely infantilized.
“I think I’ll have you sleep up near my desk, so your stinky pants don’t disturb the other kids too much,” she told me. “If it gets too bad, maybe I’ll see if there’s an empty crib somewhere for you.” I didn’t bother to answer, not sure I even had the strength, mentally or physically. I watched her get me a mat, then lifted my arms for her to slide the jumper over me, glad for that bit of camouflage for my diapers, even if I knew it was probably pointless. Carefully, I laid down on my side, then quickly rolled over onto my stomach, trying to keep from squishing the mess against myself too much.
“Sleep tight,” Ms. Shelly said, tugging at the hem of my jumper, then spreading a blanket over me.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get to sleep at all, with the state of my diaper, but I hoped I could follow her directions, so I could think, at least for a little while, that I was imagining all this.
Just so everyone knows, I do plan on having the next chapter of Laura & Holly up as soon as possible, but I just started a new job this week, so that’s taking away from my writing time a bit. Hope you all have a happy Thanksgiving!
If I’d thought sitting through class the day before was mind numbing and humiliating, it was only because I hadn’t known how much worse it would be with an ever-growing full feeling in my guts that I was growing increasingly certain would prove too much for me before the day was over, and a diaper that was growing ever-wetter without my consent. The combination made it all but impossible to pay attention, while, at the same time, making me feel so much like I belonged there that, other than when Ms. Shelly called me “Laura” during my diaper changes – each one accompanied by more pills, and more water to ensure I’d need another change soon enough – the thought of that life was relegated entirely to the back of my mind, like it was part of a game of make-believe I’d been playing.
My life now was that of Holly, the big girl who was nonetheless the baby of her class at nursery school, the last in diapers, watched and lorded over by a pack of toddlers who were all beyond daytime diapers, while I was nowhere near ready to make that leap. I was sure they were watching me constantly, eyes on my padded, often droopy, bottom, looking for any sign of a leak so they could report it to Ms. Shelly and get a gold star for being so helpful.
I couldn’t help but wonder how the real Holly would react to this situation. While I knew I didn’t deserve this, and normally wouldn’t wish it on anyone else either, as the day wore on, I began to feel more and more certain that if anyone deserved it, it was her. After all, this was all meant for her. But if the nanny really had started her work on the real Holly, would she still have wound up here? I tried to tell myself that of course she would, that this was probably the nanny’s plan all along, but even I had a hard time believing that. Put in my – or, rather, her own – place, would she have made the same choices as me? Since she couldn’t really deny that it was her, at least not truthfully, probably not. A lot of my problems had stemmed from that, and from her… If she’d just accepted the treatment, she might still be in high school, perhaps dressed more childishly than she’d prefer, but otherwise unharmed. Since she still was one, she probably knew enough about teenage girls to have known to avoid Molly and her gang. And without my nervous bladder, she probably wouldn’t have gotten herself diapered by the school nurse. She’d be a little embarrassed, yes, but probably faring far better than I was.
“Holly!” I jumped at the sound of the name I’d been so deep in thought about, looking up at Ms. Shelly. “Do you know the answer, Holly?”
“Umm…” I fidgeted nervously in my seat, unsure of what the question even was.
“You have to pay attention,” she berated me. “Were you distracted by something?” I shook my head, but that wasn’t enough for her. “Stand up,” she ordered, pulling me to her when I did and lifting the skirt of my jumper before I could try to stop her, slipping two fingers past the leg elastic of my diaper, then spinning me around so I could face the rest of the class, red-faced, as she tugged out the back of it, staring in for a moment before letting it snap back into place and patting it. “At least you haven’t had too much of an accident,” she praised me, as if that was a major accomplishment. “But you need to listen to me, okay? Or I’ll have to put you in time out again.”
Cheeks still burning, I nodded, then mumbled, “Yes, Ms. Shelly,” before starting to sink back down into my chair.
Ms. Shelly grabbed my arm, keeping me standing, as she announced, “All right, class, it’s time for lunch. Line up with Ms. Marian and I’ll be along with Holly here in just a few minutes.” I was understandably curious as to why I’d been held back, since I wasn’t all that wet, but my stomach didn’t feel like it was in any shape for me to be putting more stuff into it just yet, so I didn’t mind too much. I wasn’t terribly happy to hear, “Let’s go get you some more pills,” as an explanation once the other kids were gone, however.
I wanted to complain that I’d just had some at my last change, but in the interest of appearing to be a good little girl, I kept my mouth shut while she guided me back to the bathroom and started getting out more of the pills, upping the dose to six this time. As I took the first, she took the opportunity to check the back of my diaper again.
“I have to say, I’m impressed,” she told me, refilling my cup, “you still haven’t pooped yourself. I know it must be getting hard, huh? I bet that little tummy of yours is getting pretty full, isn’t it?” She reached out and patted my stomach, making it much harder for me to continue to ignore her, as I squirmed at the touch. “I’ll tell you what… You use your diaper right now, and I’ll go ahead and change you right away. Nobody else will need to know, except your nanny, of course. Come on, Laura, it’s the most privacy you’re going to get.”
I looked up at her, confused and conflicted. I knew better than to trust her, of course – when she said she was going to tell the nanny, I was sure she’d be more than willing to mention that I’d been in the bathroom at the time, and didn’t even ask to use the toilet – but if nothing else, this, or immediately before or after one of my changes, was my best shot at keeping it between us. Unless she was bluffing. I took another pill as I pondered, searching her face for an indication of how truthful she was being, but it was hard to read past her smirk. Finally, I asked, “Right away?” quietly.
“Right away,” she confirmed. “You won’t even have to walk over to the changing table.”
It wasn’t ideal, not by any means, but if it was going to happen, I might as well make it as easy on myself as possible. No worries about when, during the rest of the school day, the fullness in my belly would become too much, whether I’d be able to mask what I was doing, if Ms. Shelly would call me out on it after I toddled up to her, load in my diaper, probably on the edge of tears at the humiliation of it all. And besides the low fixtures and the changing table – which I was turned away from anyway – the bathroom was far less childish than the classroom. Not that I could maintain much dignity when I was filling my pants, but that might be enough to save a sliver or so.
As I took my final pill, I debated waiting it out, just in case I really could last until my nanny picked me up, but a rumble in my stomach, even more painful than the ones I’d been having most of the morning, reminded me how little chance there was of that. I sighed, setting the cup on the sink, and, steeling my nerves, told her, “Okay.” After an anxious swallow and moment of silence, I even managed to ask, “Could you wait outside?”
That got about the response I expected – “Oh, definitely not” – but it had been worth a shot. I tried, “Can I sit on the toilet?” as a back-up.
She shook her head. “You’re going to do it standing there, like any other little baby. You can squat if you want.” As if to emphasize that it was off-limits, she sat down on the closed toilet lid herself, folding her arms while she watched.
I bit my bottom lip, staring at her. I felt like I was about to give a performance for her, and my anxiety seemed to have, temporarily at least, soothed the savage beast in the pit of my stomach. Actually using the bathroom in my pants probably contributed to that a lot – it might even have been one of the main reasons it hadn’t already happened – but doing it not just around other people, but as they were watching me specifically, made it seem all but impossible. Which put me in the somehow even more humiliating position of having to choose between really working at it to get it over with, or waiting and running the risk of an accident around the kids.
If I could have just sat on the toilet, that would have been one thing. I could have closed my eyes, did my best to pretend I wasn’t wearing a diaper, that I wasn’t in the bathroom at a nursery school, that it was just a perfectly normal bathroom break. But Ms. Shelly wasn’t budging, so instead, I found myself taking her suggestion and squatting. I had to close my eyes, unable to take seeing her watch me as I started to bear down, struggling to do something utterly unthinkable, my face turning red once more, this time from the effort as much as the embarrassment.
I was almost there when I heard the click of her camera phone, making my eyes shoot open and killing any momentum I’d built up. “I just thought your nanny should see how eager you were,” Ms. Shelly said. “You just couldn’t wait to make a big old surprise for me, now could you?”
“Nooo,” I whimpered helplessly.
“Now hurry up,” she ordered. “We can’t stay in here all day. We have to get you your lunch!”
“I can’t,” I shook my head. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”
“Oh, I think you can,” she said, leaning forward and grabbing me, dragging me up and onto the toilet. I tried to squirm free, afraid I was in for a spanking or something, only for her to pinch me between her legs, crossing them in front of mine as her hand went to my stomach, starting to rub it in a circular motion, hand pressing harder and harder with every revolution. “I have faith that if there’s one thing you can accomplish, it’s this. Come on, Laura. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? I’ll tell you what… You do it, and I won’t send your nanny that picture. I’ll even tell her it was an accident, that you were waiting your line for the potty and you just couldn’t make it. That would be a little better, wouldn’t it?”
I nodded, sweating as I felt the massage starting to get things moving again. This whole exercise was proving to be quite draining, physically and emotionally. I hated to admit it, but I was almost looking forward to naptime. I closed my eyes again, trying to pretend I was alone, though the feel of her body all around me made that difficult, and tried once more to end this ordeal, face turning red again as I started to push…
“Time’s up!” she declared, suddenly stopping the belly rub and unlocking her legs, pushing me up onto my own shaky ones. I gasped, panting slightly, disoriented, body right on the verge of taking advantage of my weakened state. “I sure hope you aren’t going,” she teased, grinning maliciously down at me. “I’m not changing you until after lunch now, no matter what happens.” I squeaked, pressing my arms between my legs, up against the damp padding of my diaper, and squeezed my legs together around them, fighting the start the avalanche I’d just worked so hard to start.
“You… You…” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. I wanted to shoot off a stream of obscenities at her, but I remembered her earlier warning just in time and kept my mouth shut, even though it was quite a struggle.
“I know,” she said breezily, grabbing my diaper bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Now come on, it’s lunch time.” She held her hand out insistently, but I didn’t dare take it, or move any muscle in my body at all. They all seemed devoted to one goal, and I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of not reaching it. Then she started to count. “One…”
I knew it was a trick, the sort of thing mothers did to keep their kids in line because they didn’t realize it was mostly meaningless. Except, with her, was it really such an empty threat? I didn’t know what she’d dare to do, and she clearly had no problem with the idea of torturing me for no apparent reason.
Internally, I began to beg my body for mercy, praying for it to help me out for once. It wouldn’t be much, but any little victory over Ms. Shelly would really help me out.
“Two and a half…”
Desperately, expecting the worst, I broke free of my pose and reached out for her hand. Miraculously, nothing came out into my diaper, nor did it as she washed my hands, and then hers, in the sink, or as she started to lead me through the school. I could tell she was a little disappointed, and that brightened my day a tad, but I knew it couldn’t last long. If I’d been inches from an accident before, it was down to centimeters now, and with every step I was bringing myself closer and closer to the point of no return.