Chapter 40 — Mommy’s Charge

Elara shifted uncomfortably in the tiny chair, the hard wooden seat creaking under her as the giggles of her classmates echoed around the room. She hadn’t known what to expect when Mommy and Daddy took over her life again, steering her back into this bizarre regression, but it certainly wasn’t this. A magic history class in a magical school was strange enough, but sitting here with a pacifier wedged between her lips and a chunky crayon clutched in her hand while she scribbled notes on parchment? It was beyond humiliating. Her cheeks burned a fierce red, the heat creeping down her neck as she tried to focus on the professor’s droning lecture about ancient enchantments.

The pacifier felt heavy in her mouth, a reminder of her diminished state. She wanted to spit it out, to toss the crayon across the room and demand to be treated like an adult, but she knew better. Mommy and Daddy had made it clear—rules were rules, and disobedience meant consequences. So she sucked lightly on the silicone nipple, her jaw working around it instinctively even as her mind rebelled.

Around her, other students—dressed in proper robes and wielding elegant quills—whispered and snickered behind their hands. She could feel their eyes on her, taking in the oversized pastel onesie peeking out from under her ill-fitting school robe, the crinkle of her diaper audible with every small movement. Did magical schools even have crayons? She hadn’t thought so, yet here she was, scratching out clumsy notes about spell-weaving runes with a bright yellow wax stick that kept slipping in her grip.

“Pay attention, little one,” came a sharp voice from the front. The professor, a stern woman with silver hair pulled into a tight bun, glared at her over wire-rimmed spectacles. “History isn’t just stories—it’s power. Even someone like… you should understand that.”

Elara’s face flamed hotter at the jab. She ducked her head, pretending to focus on her parchment, though all she’d managed so far were uneven squiggles and half-formed letters. The giggles grew louder from a cluster of students nearby, and she caught snippets of their whispers.

“Look at her… what is she even doing here?”

“Bet she can’t even cast a basic charm.”

“Shh, don’t be mean—she’s probably just… special.”

The last word dripped with mockery, and Elara’s grip tightened on the crayon until it nearly snapped. She wanted to scream, to tell them she wasn’t some helpless child, that she’d once been top of her class before everything had been stripped away. But with the pacifier muffling any chance of speech, all she could do was bite down harder on it, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, making her jump. She glanced up to see one of the teaching assistants—a young man with kind eyes but a pitying smile—leaning down.

“Need help with your notes?” he asked softly, though loud enough for nearby students to hear. A fresh wave of titters rolled through the room.

She shook her head quickly, mortified, and tried to angle her body to hide the pathetic scrawl on her page. He lingered for a moment longer before straightening up and moving on, leaving her to stew in her embarrassment.

The lecture dragged on, each minute feeling like an hour. Her diaper felt heavier by the second, another layer of shame pressing against her as she squirmed. She didn’t dare ask for a break—she couldn’t imagine waddling out of class in front of everyone to beg for a change. So she stayed put, doodling meaningless shapes with her crayon just to keep her hands busy.

Finally, the professor clapped her hands together. “That’s enough for today. Remember your readings on elemental bindings for tomorrow—and no excuses.”

As students began packing up their things, Elara fumbled to gather her scattered crayons and stuff them into the childish backpack Mommy had insisted she carry. The pacifier bobbed awkwardly in her mouth as she tried to move quickly, desperate to escape before anyone could approach her.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind her just as she slung the bag over her shoulder. She froze, dread pooling in her stomach as she turned to see one of the girls from earlier—a tall brunette with a smirk playing on her lips.

“Nice outfit,” the girl said, eyeing Elara up and down. “Did you pick it out yourself, or did Mommy dress you this morning?”

Elara’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she couldn’t respond—not with the pacifier gagging any retort she might’ve had. The girl’s friends giggled behind her, egging her on.

“Aw, don’t be shy. Spit it out—if you can.” The brunette reached out as if to tug at the pacifier’s ring, but Elara jerked back instinctively, nearly tripping over her own feet.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to mumble around the obstruction, though it came out garbled and weak.

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch it.” The girl tilted her head mockingly before shrugging. “Whatever. See you tomorrow, baby witch.”

They sauntered off laughing, leaving Elara standing there trembling with a mix of anger and humiliation. She adjusted her bag strap with shaky hands and hurried toward the door, keeping her head down to avoid any more stares or comments.

All she wanted was to get back to Daddy or Mommy—someone who wouldn’t mock her for being stuck like this. But deep down, part of her dreaded facing them too; after all, they were the ones who’d put her in this position in the first place.

Elara hurried out of the classroom, her pastel backpack bouncing awkwardly against her back as she shuffled down the crowded corridor. Her cheeks still burned from the earlier taunts, and she kept her head low, trying to dodge the curious and mocking gazes of the other students. The giggles followed her like a persistent shadow, some muffled behind hands, others brazen and sharp. A few students kept to themselves, their eyes averted as they whispered among each other, but no matter where she looked, Elara couldn’t escape the subtle signs of her own predicament mirrored in others. Among the first-years especially, she caught the faint crinkle of diapers beneath their robes, the telltale bulk shifting as they moved. It was oddly comforting to know she wasn’t entirely alone in this bizarre humiliation, yet it did nothing to ease the knot of embarrassment twisting in her stomach.

She still couldn’t wrap her head around why Mommy and Daddy insisted on this. Every time she’d mustered the courage to ask, they’d brushed her off with a knowing smile or a pat on the head, leaving her more confused than ever. What kind of magical school operated like this? Her mind churned with questions as she rounded another corner of the winding hallway, eager to reach her next class without further incident.

But then she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes locked onto a massive animated poster plastered across the stone wall, its vibrant colors and swirling magic drawing her attention like a magnet. The poster advertised the yearly house cup. In the center of the image, a witch and wizard stood tall and proud, their flowing robes billowing dramatically as they faced each other with wands raised, sparks crackling between them in a display of raw power. They looked regal, commanding—everything a true mage should be. But Elara’s breath caught as her gaze dropped lower. Beneath those majestic robes, both figures sported thick, unmistakable diapers, padded bulges on full display without an ounce of shame. The animation even emphasized it—one figure shifted slightly, causing an audible crinkle.

Her cheeks flared hotter than ever, a fresh wave of crimson flooding her face as she stood frozen. How could something so prestigious be tied to… this? She glanced around nervously, half-expecting someone to catch her staring and mock her for it, but most students bustled past without a second look at the poster. To them, it seemed normal—or at least not worth commenting on. She sucked harder on the pacifier still wedged between her lips, a nervous habit forming despite how much she hated it.

She didn’t fully grasp what the challenge would entail, only that all of Mommy’s relentless training would culminate in this pivotal event. She and Quinn needed to perform well. Their rankings in the house cup, combined with their accumulated scores over the year, would determine whether they’d be forced to endure a second year in this regressed state or finally move on. Judging by their current standings—middling at best—they couldn’t afford to falter.

A sudden, soft cramp twisted in her lower abdomen, pulling her out of her thoughts. Her hand fluttered instinctively to her stomach as a low groan escaped around the pacifier still wedged between her lips. She grimaced, the discomfort growing sharper by the second. Mommy hadn’t allowed her or Quinn anything resembling real food for lunch today. Instead, they’d been restricted to a milk-based diet. It was wreaking havoc on her digestive system.

She shuffled to a quieter corner of the hallway, hoping to avoid prying eyes as she fought the inevitable. Her face flushed with shame as she tried to hold out, clenching every muscle she could, but the pressure built relentlessly. Her body betrayed her, and with a muffled whimper, she gave in. A warm, heavy mess filled her diaper, the sensation both humiliating and oddly relieving as it spread beneath her. Almost simultaneously, her bladder let go for good measure, adding to the soggy weight between her legs. The crinkle of the padding grew louder with the added bulk, and she shifted uncomfortably, praying no one nearby could hear or smell what had just happened.

“Ugh… not now,” she mumbled incoherently around the pacifier, her voice garbled and weak. She pressed herself closer to the wall, glancing around nervously. A few students passed by, too engrossed in their own conversations to notice her predicament, but the paranoia gnawed at her.

She needed to find Quinn—or better yet, get back to Mommy for a change before her next class. The thought of sitting through another lecture like this was unbearable. The cup couldn’t come soon enough; she just hoped she’d survive until then without completely losing herself to this enforced helplessness.

Elara’s heart leapt with a mix of relief and dread as she spotted Mommy across the bustling hallway. Her waddling steps quickened, the heavy, soggy diaper between her legs squishing uncomfortably with every move. The faint hope of a change pushed her forward, even as her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the thought of addressing her predicament in such a public space.

Mommy turned, catching sight of her, and a wide grin spread across her face. “Have you been being a good girl?” she cooed in that overly sweet tone that always made Elara’s stomach twist. Before Elara could react, Mommy reached out and playfully booped the pacifier bobbing in her mouth, making it wiggle. Elara nodded, her cheeks flaring.

Mommy chuckled, a warm but teasing sound. “Good to hear. Well, don’t keep your professor waiting, you’ve got class to get to!”

A soft whimper escaped Elara’s lips as she shifted on her feet, torn between the desperate need for a fresh diaper and the fear of punishment if she dared ask outright. She knew the rules—babies don’t beg for changes. But Mommy wasn’t moving either, just standing there with that expectant look in her eyes, arms crossed casually over her chest. It wasn’t a dismissal; it was a test. Elara could feel it.

Her face flared hotter, humiliation prickling under her skin as she squirmed in place. The weight of her messy diaper felt unbearable now, pressing against her with every tiny movement. She tried to hold back, to tough it out, but the pressure of Mommy’s gaze and the discomfort overwhelmed her. With a defeated whimper, her face crumpled, and she let herself cry right there in the middle of the hall. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, muffled sobs shaking her shoulders as passing students glanced over with mixtures of pity and amusement.

Immediately, Mommy stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “Ohh, does someone need a fresh diaper?” she asked loudly, her tone dripping with mock concern. Before Elara could even flinch, Mommy hiked up her skirt right there in plain view, exposing the bulky, sagging diaper beneath. A few nearby students snickered as they hurried past, and Elara’s mortification skyrocketed. Mommy’s hands patted and squeezed the diaper, first at the front then sliding around to the back, squishing the warm mess inside against Elara’s skin. The sensation made her squirm harder, a pathetic whine escaping around the pacifier as she tried to pull away.

“Hmm,” Mommy mused, continuing her very public inspection without a hint of discretion. “I don’t have any spare diapers on me, honey.” She gave one last firm pat before letting go. “But luckily, you’ve got plenty of room for one more class!”

Elara’s skirt dropped back into place as Mommy straightened up, planting a soft kiss on her forehead like nothing had happened. “Be good now,” she added with a wink before turning on her heel and walking off down the corridor without a backward glance.

Elara stood frozen in utter shock, tears still wet on her cheeks as she processed what had just happened. The weight of her messy diaper felt heavier than ever, each crinkle echoing in her ears like a taunt. Students continued to pass by, some casting curious or mocking glances while others ignored her completely. She couldn’t move for a long moment, rooted to the spot by humiliation and helplessness. There was no escaping this—not now, not until after class when she might find relief… if Mommy deemed it appropriate.