Chapter 25 — Plans & Rules

Elara stood near the small desk in their dorm room, the letter clutched in her hand, her eyes scanning the words for what felt like the hundredth time. Quinn leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her brow furrowed as she stared at the same cryptic document they’d been handed.

The paper wasn’t a clear set of instructions but rather a vague list of concepts—things like ‘compliance,’ ‘curriculum adaptability and acceptance,’ ‘future-focused adoption,’ and ‘school focus.’ Each term felt like a puzzle piece without a picture to guide them, left entirely to the whims of their caregivers to interpret.

“What the hell do we do?” Elara asked, her voice tight with frustration as she tossed the letter onto the desk.

“I mean, fuck if I know,” Quinn muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I thought this would make things far more straightforward.”

“Nothing in this damn school is ever straightforward,” Elara shot back, pinching the bridge of her nose as if it could squeeze out some clarity.

“Do you think this is what Mommy and Daddy came up with? Or the school?” Quinn asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” Elara admitted. “It could be either. I think our trouble is going to be interpreting it and then applying it.”

“Well, we obviously know what their goals are for us,” Quinn said, pushing off the wall to pace a small circle. “They want us to be ready for the House Cup, while also doing well in school.”

“But we don’t even know what the House Cup truly is!” Elara exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“I mean, it’s obviously got to be something with their treatment of us, right?” Quinn grumbled, stopping mid-step. “Why else would they want to force us into being babies?”

“I would assume, but we don’t know that,” Elara countered, pacing now herself, her steps agitated across the cramped dorm room floor. “We could dive deep into what we think they want and come out worse off than when we started.”

“Maybe,” Quinn said slowly, her voice taking on a more thoughtful edge. “I mean, let’s think about it for a moment. How does their treatment of us fall into these categories? The school bit’s obvious—keep up with classes, get good grades. The others, though… ‘compliance’ sounds more like going along with them and their rules, not necessarily the house rules or the school’s rules. The ‘future-focused’ stuff has to be about the Cup and ongoing studies, which ties into us wanting to do well in both.”

Elara grimaced, stopping her pacing to lean against the bedframe. “So, what do we do?”

Quinn sighed, dropping onto the edge of her own bed with a thud. “We start by playing their game—on our terms as much as we can. If ‘compliance’ means following their lead, we do it, but we document every damn thing. Every instruction, every weird rule, every little task they throw at us. We match it up with these stupid categories ourselves if we have to.”

Elara shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks burning as she avoided Quinn’s steady gaze. “I mean, it seems they’re pretty content letting us flounder,” she grumbled. “I don’t think we’re going to get much from them now.”

“Alright,” Quinn said, her tone firm as she crossed her arms. “Then what do we know already? We know a huge part of their push was to force us to be babies, but why?”

“Because they want to humiliate us,” Elara shot back, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Quinn shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “It’s not that simple. The whole orgasm stuff? Could be compliance, but I think it’s tied to their curriculum. They wanted to teach us to associate baby stuff with pleasure, to accept our place and adapt to this new life. They forced compliance, even when it wasn’t needed, but they had to be watching our responses the entire time. Of course, they were doing all this to prepare for the Cup.”

“So?” Elara muttered, slumping against the crib’s side, her frustration palpable.

“So, we build out our own schedule, our own rules, and showcase how we’re complying with them and how they relate back to these guidelines,” Quinn said with determination, lifting the letter off the desk and waving it slightly for emphasis.

“You want us to come up with our own rules, as if we were caregivers, and then hold ourselves to them?” Elara asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“I mean, isn’t that exactly what this test is supposed to be about?” Quinn countered, cocking her head to the side. “They wanted to see us flounder; they want to see us fail so they can swoop in and take control again. This is how we prove we don’t need them.”

Elara took a long, measured breath, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Alright… So, how do we do this?”

Quinn sat down at the small desk, pulling out a quill and parchment with a decisive nod. “Well, first, we need to establish our own rules. What would you suggest? Based on what they’ve done so far.”

Elara’s face flushed a deeper shade of red as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “Well… diapers for one.”

Quinn nodded without hesitation, scribbling the idea down. “Agreed. Diapers all the time, no bathroom breaks, and we can’t touch our diapers ourselves.”

“Wait, wait—I didn’t say that,” Elara stammered, her blush spreading down her neck.

“But it’s what they want,” Quinn said with a sigh, setting the quill down for a moment to look at her directly. “Why else wouldn’t we be allowed to change ourselves the entire first half of this year? It’s about dependency—compliance through reliance on someone else. If we set this rule for ourselves, it shows we understand their game and are willing to play by it on our terms.”

Elara bit her lip, shifting from one foot to the other. “Okay… fine. But who changes who then? Are we just supposed to wait around until one of us is free?”

“Nah,” Quinn replied, tapping the quill against the parchment thoughtfully. “We schedule it. Morning and evening changes at minimum, more if needed—like after lunch or before bed. We take turns being in charge of it based on the day or something. That way, it’s structured, and we’re showing ‘curriculum adaptability’ by organizing ourselves.”

“That’s… a lot,” Elara mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“It is,” Quinn agreed. “But think about it—if we’re proactive like this, logging every change, every moment of following these rules—we’re building evidence of compliance and adaptability before Mommy or Daddy can even nitpick us on some vague bullshit from that letter.”

Elara nodded slowly, though her expression remained uneasy. “What else then? Diapers can’t be all of it.”

“It’s not,” Quinn said, jotting down a few more notes. “Based on their behavior so far, think about feeding times. They made a big deal out of controlling meals, right? Bottles instead of regular food sometimes, spoon-feeding other times. That’s gotta tie into ‘acceptance’ or whatever. So let’s add scheduled feedings where one of us takes the lead, bottles or soft foods only during certain hours.”

“Are you serious?” Elara’s voice pitched in protest.

“Dead serious,” Quinn shot back without missing a beat. “We pick two meals a day where we do it their way—one of us plays caregiver while the other accepts the role fully. Log how well we stick to character each time; make notes on reactions or hesitations so we’ve got something concrete for ‘future-focused adoption’ or whatever nonsense term fits.”

Elara groaned but didn’t argue further, she knew Quinn had a point even if she hated admitting it aloud. “Fine... What’s next?”

Quinn grinned, "Vocabulary and dialogue structure, baby girl. Why don’t you give it a go? Call me Mommy.”

“Wha-what?” Elara stammered. “You can’t be serious.”

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, watching her.

“No way.” Elara said, shaking her head. “We’ll do the rest of it, we’ll follow our own rules, our guidelines, make sure they know we are accepting our place and all that, but not that.”

Quinn continued to wait.

Elara groaned, blushing deeply, “fine, have it your way, Mommy.”

Quinn leaned forward, her voice dropping to a playful, almost conspiratorial tone. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? A little obedience goes a long way, baby girl.”

Elara’s cheeks burned as she kept her eyes downcast, muttering under her breath. “This is humiliating.”

“Humiliating?” Quinn echoed with a smirk, reaching out to tilt Elara’s chin up so their eyes met. “Nah, it’s adorable. And it’s necessary. If we’re gonna make this work—if we’re gonna prove we belong here and keep learning magic—we’ve gotta commit. All the way. No half-assing it.”

Elara sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not happy about this ‘Mommy’ and ‘baby’ crap. What exactly does that even mean for us day-to-day?”

Quinn’s grin widened as she sat back, crossing one leg over the other casually. “Oh, I’m glad you asked. On your ‘baby’ days, you don’t just carry a pacifier—you use it. You lisp when you talk, you ask for help with everything, even the little stuff like tying your shoes or eating lunch. And if I catch you slipping up, acting too grown-up? Well, let’s just say there’ll be consequences.” Her tone was light, but the glint in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t kidding.

“Consequences?” Elara’s voice cracked slightly as she shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh yeah,” Quinn said, leaning in again, her voice low and teasing. “Maybe a timeout in the corner of the classroom with everyone watching. Or a nice, firm spanking over my knee if you’re really naughty. Gotta keep you in line, right?”

Elara’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as she squirmed under Quinn’s gaze. “You wouldn’t dare do that in front of people.”

“Try me,” Quinn shot back without missing a beat. “I’ll pull that skirt up and have you over my lap faster than you can say ‘magic spell.’ Public or not, doesn’t matter to me. It’s all about accountability, remember?”

Elara swallowed hard, her hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of her skirt. “And... what about when I’m not the baby? When it’s your turn?”

Quinn chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “When I’m the baby? Oh, sweetheart, I expect you to step up. Be strict with me. Make sure I’m following all the rules. Check on me just like I check on you.” Her eyes flicked down to Elara’s skirt again before meeting her gaze with a sly smile. “And if I act out... well, I expect a good scolding from my Mommy. Maybe even a punishment or two if I deserve it.”

Elara groaned again, rubbing her temples. “This is insane. We’re supposed to be learning magic, not playing house like a couple of weirdos.”

“It’s not playing house,” Quinn said firmly, her playful demeanor shifting to something more serious for a moment. “It’s survival. They’re watching us every second to see if we crack under pressure. If we don’t embrace this fully, they’ll kick us out faster than you can blink. So yeah, we’re doing this.”

Elara bit her lip, looking away for a long moment before finally nodding reluctantly. “Okay... fine. But if anyone laughs at me during class while I’ve got a damn pacifier in my mouth, I’m blaming you.”

Quinn laughed outright at that, reaching over to pat Elara’s knee affectionately. “Deal. But trust me, once they see how committed we are, they won’t be laughing—they’ll be impressed. Now come on, let’s figure out our schedule for who’s baby and who’s Mommy each day this week. And don’t forget...” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bright pink pacifier, dangling it teasingly in front of Elara’s face. “Your first day starts now.”

Elara stared at the pacifier like it was a cursed object before snatching it out of Quinn’s hand with a huff. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe I am,” Quinn admitted with a wink. “Now pop that in and say ‘Yes, Mommy’ like a good girl. Let’s practice before class starts.”

Elara blushed deeply, her eyes darting between Quinn and the bright pink pacifier dangling in front of her. Her stomach churned with embarrassment, but finally, she let out a defeated sigh. “Yes, Mommy…” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn’s grin stretched wide, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Good girl,” she cooed, pushing the pacifier gently but firmly into Elara’s mouth.

Before Elara could process it further, Quinn reached out, grabbing her by the waist with surprising strength. In one swift motion, she pulled Elara onto her lap, positioning her like a small child.

Elara stiffened, her heart pounding as she felt utterly exposed, perched there. Quinn’s hand slipped under the edge of Elara’s skirt to check her diaper. The crinkle of the material was deafening in the quiet room, and Quinn’s fingers pressed lightly.

“Someone’s a little wet already,” Quinn murmured, her tone teasing. She pulled her hand back and grabbed a notebook from the table beside them, jotting down notes as if nothing unusual was happening.

Elara was utterly mortified. The pacifier muffled any protest she might’ve made, and the weight of Quinn’s casual dominance pinned her in place. Every instinct screamed at her to push away, to jump off Quinn’s lap and tear the stupid pacifier out of her mouth—but she resisted the urge to fight, for now. Instead, she sat there, rigid and humiliated, feeling the wet diaper cling uncomfortably to her skin while Quinn’s arm looped loosely around her waist, keeping her in place.

“Alright,” Quinn said, flipping a page in the notebook without looking up. “Let’s work out this schedule. We’ll alternate days—Monday, I’m Mommy, you’re baby. Tuesday, we switch. Wednesday, back to me as Mommy. Sound fair?”

Elara nodded stiffly, the pacifier bobbing awkwardly in her mouth. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. But inside, a fire was building. She stared at the top of Quinn’s head as she wrote, her mind racing. When it’s my turn to be caregiver, she vowed bitterly, I’m gonna make you pay for this. Every humiliating second of this little game—I’ll turn it right back on you.

Quinn glanced up briefly, catching the glint of defiance in Elara’s eyes despite the pacifier and childish position. She smirked, tapping the pen against her lips. “Don’t give me that look, sweetheart. You’re gonna be such a cute little baby for me tomorrow in class. And trust me, I’ll make sure everyone sees how well-behaved you are.”

Elara’s face burned even hotter, but she stayed silent, plotting every detail of her revenge for when their roles reversed. If Quinn thought she could dish out this kind of embarrassment without consequence, she had another thing coming.

Mercifully, they finished the schedule. Elara let out a shaky breath of relief as Quinn gestured for her to stand. Her legs felt wobbly after sitting in such a humiliating position for so long, and she was eager to put some distance between them. But before Elara could step away, Quinn was right there, closing the gap in an instant. Her hands slid down to Elara’s backside, gripping firmly through the soaked padding of Elara’s diaper, the crinkling sound loud in the quiet room as her fingers pressed into the damp material.

Elara gasped sharply, a small moan escaping her lips as the pacifier slipped from her mouth and clattered to the floor. “What are you doing?” she stammered, her face flaming red with embarrassment and something else she couldn’t quite name.

Quinn’s grin was wicked, her eyes glinting with intent as she reached up with one hand, running her thumb slowly along Elara’s trembling lips. “I’m being an attentive mommy,” she purred, her voice low and teasing. “I want you to know just how good of a girl you are. And, most importantly…” She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Elara’s ear as her hand lingered on her jaw. “I’m going to give you something else to suck.”