Chapter 41 — Pacified

Elara sat rigid in her chair at the back of the classroom, her heart pounding as the scene unfolded at the front. She knew full well that her fellow students wore diapers under their robes—crinkles and subtle bulges gave them away often enough—but knowing and witnessing were worlds apart. Her eyes widened as a first-year boy, barely able to stammer out an apology, stood trembling before the professor. The stern man, his face set in a scowl, had already stuffed a pacifier into the boy’s mouth to silence him mid-sentence. Then, with a swift motion, he bent the boy over the desk, yanking down his pants to expose a swollen, heavily filled diaper for the entire class to see. The padding sagged under its own weight, the faint scent of mess lingering in the air as snickers rippled through the room—or was that Elara’s own she smelled?

“You think you can talk while I’m speaking?” the professor barked, his voice cutting through the stifled laughter. He didn’t wait for a response before his hand came down hard on the boy’s diapered backside, the muffled thwack echoing off the stone walls. The boy yelped around the pacifier, squirming against the desk as another smack landed, then another, each one making the messy contents of his diaper shift. The class erupted into giggles and whispers, some students leaning forward for a better view while others hid smirks behind their hands.

“Disrespect gets you nowhere,” the professor continued, delivering one last firm spank before stepping back. “Now pull yourself together and sit down. Maybe you’ll think twice next time.”

The boy, red-faced and teary-eyed, fumbled to tug his pants back up, waddling awkwardly to his seat amidst more laughter. Elara’s cheeks burned hotter than ever as she watched, her own messy diaper pressing uncomfortably against her skin with every slight shift. The sight—combined with those humiliating sounds—dragged her mind straight back to vivid memories she’d tried so hard to bury.

She could almost feel it again: bent over Mommy’s lap in their dorm just weeks ago, her skirt hiked up unceremoniously to reveal her own sodden, filled diaper. Mommy’s voice had been deceptively sweet as she scolded her. “Bad girls don’t get away with whining,” she’d said, her hand coming down with surprising force on Elara’s padded bottom. Each spank squished the mess inside against her skin, amplifying her shame as she whimpered and writhed uselessly. “You’ll learn to behave one way or another,” Mommy had added between strikes, her tone laced with amusement while tears pricked at Elara’s eyes.

Now, sitting in class with that memory replaying vividly, Elara’s breath hitched around her pacifier. Her hands gripped the edges of her desk tightly, trying to anchor herself in the present even as her body reacted to the echo of humiliation. Her diaper felt heavier by the second, every crinkle reminding her of her current state—and how little separated her from being in that boy’s position right now. She glanced around nervously, hoping no one could see the flush spreading down her neck or guess at the storm of embarrassment churning inside her.

The professor resumed his lecture on protective wards as if nothing had happened, but Elara couldn’t focus. Her mind kept flickering between the boy’s public punishment and her own past experiences, each thought making her squirm more in her seat. The soggy bulk beneath her skirt seemed to mock her silently, and she bit down harder on her pacifier, praying the rest of the class would pass without incident—or worse, without her drawing any attention.

Elara couldn’t even keep track of how many times she’d filled her diaper at this point—only that the padding had grown so thick and sodden that every tiny shift of her weight caused an audible, mortifying squish. It had been ages since she’d been forced to sit in something this bad for so long. When it was just her and Quinn handling things, they never let each other endure this level of discomfort between changes. There was an unspoken understanding, a small mercy in their shared humiliation.

But Mommy? She was a different story entirely. She insisted on making sure every single diaper was “completely used” before even considering a change. It wasn’t about convenience or necessity—it was about control, about driving home the point that Elara had no say in the matter. And with the protective rune etched into place—a subtle tingling charm on her skin that warded off diaper rash or anything more unpleasant—Elara had absolutely no ground to stand on. No physical harm, no argument to make. She couldn’t claim discomfort as a reason to challenge Mommy’s rules, much to her dismay.

Her cheeks burned as she tried to focus on the lecture droning on at the front of the class, but all she could think about was the weight between her legs. Each movement made the mess shift inside the padding, a sensation that was both humiliating and maddeningly unavoidable. She pressed her thighs together instinctively, as if that could somehow lessen the feeling, but it only made things worse, amplifying the squelch that seemed deafening in her own ears. She glanced around nervously, praying no one else could hear or smell what she was enduring.

“Stop squirming back there,” came the professor’s sharp voice, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. Her head snapped up, heart racing as she realized he was staring right at her. A few classmates turned their heads too, smirking or whispering behind their hands.

“S-sorry,” she mumbled around the pacifier still wedged in her mouth, though it came out garbled and pathetic. The professor just rolled his eyes and returned to his explanation of counter-curses, leaving her to stew in her embarrassment.

She slumped lower in her seat, hands gripping the edge of her desk as another faint cramp rippled through her stomach. Not again—she bit down harder on the silicone nipple in her mouth, trying to will it away, but she knew better by now. Her body didn’t care about timing or dignity. With a muffled whimper only she could hear over the hum of classroom chatter, she felt herself lose control once more. The warmth spread further into the already overburdened diaper, adding to its impossible bulk until it strained against the tabs holding it in place under her skirt.

Her face flamed hotter than ever as she sat there helplessly through yet another addition to her misery. Mommy’s voice echoed in her mind from earlier that day: “We don’t waste diapers. You’ll wear it until I decide it’s time for a change.” The memory made her stomach twist with frustration—she wanted to scream or beg for relief but knew neither would do any good.

Elara sighed with relief as the class drew to a close. The professor’s voice faded into a dull hum as she stood, gathering her scattered crayons and parchment with shaky hands. Her diaper, now impossibly heavy and swollen beneath her skirt. She slung her pastel backpack over her shoulder and shuffled out of the classroom, eager to escape the prying eyes and muffled snickers that had followed her all day.

As she made her way through the winding corridors, she couldn’t help but notice a shift in the atmosphere. Over the course of the day, more and more students seemed to be sporting pacifiers, their lips wrapped around the silicone shields as they waddled between classes. Perhaps seeing her in such a state had sparked ideas among the other caregivers, or maybe it was just coincidence. Either way, the sight was jarring. Some pacifiers were plain, in standard blue or pink hues, while others were elaborately themed or decorated with glittering charms, cartoon characters, or intricate patterns etched into the plastic.

What unsettled her even more were the whispers she’d overheard from fellow first-years throughout the day. These decorated pacifiers often came with “extra decorations”—runes carved into them to enforce specific behaviors. More than once, she’d passed by a student struggling to speak, their words coming out with a heavy lisp or reduced entirely to infantile babbling. One girl had tried to ask for directions only to stammer out “pwease hewp me” before blushing furiously and scurrying away. Another boy had babbled incoherently until his caregiver swooped in, cooing at him like he was a toddler. The thought sent a shiver down Elara’s spine. She already felt trapped enough; the idea of Mommy getting inspired by these enchanted pacifiers was a nightmare she didn’t want to entertain.

Clutching her bag tighter, she hurried toward her dorm, desperate for some semblance of privacy after the day’s endless humiliations. When she finally pushed open the door and stepped inside, her breath caught at the sight before her. Quinn sat on the edge of her crib, skirt discarded on the floor to reveal a bloated, heavily soiled diaper sagging between her legs. The padding looked just as overburdened as Elara’s own, if not worse, crinkling loudly as Quinn shifted. A pacifier bobbed in her mouth too—a bright yellow one with little duck stickers plastered across it. Her eyes flicked up to meet Elara’s, and for a moment, they shared a silent look of mutual embarrassment.

“Ugh… been waitin’ forever,” Quinn mumbled around the pacifier, her voice slightly garbled but still intelligible. She patted the bed beside her awkwardly. “Figured you’d be back soon. How bad was it out there?”

Elara dropped her bag by the door and shuffled over, wincing as her own diaper squished beneath her. She plopped down next to Quinn, their combined bulk making an unmistakable sound as they settled. “Awful,” she muttered through her own pacifier, barely coherent. She pulled it out for just a second to speak clearer, glancing nervously at the door as if expecting someone to barge in. “More people got ‘em now. Pacifiers. Some… mess with how you talk.”

Quinn’s brow furrowed as she sucked on hers absentmindedly. “Saw that too. One guy in potions couldn’t say nothin’ but baby stuff. Kept goin’ ‘goo goo’ till the prof gave up tryin’ to understand him.” She shook her head, then winced as she adjusted herself, clearly uncomfortable in her current state. “Hope no one gets any bright ideas for us.”

“Me too,” Elara whispered, popping her pacifier back in out of habit. Her cheeks flushed deeper at being so close to Quinn like this—both of them exposed in their messy states. It wasn’t new; they’d seen each other at low points plenty of times by now. But something about sitting here together, skirts off or hiked up, diapers on full display without any pretense… it made her feel oddly vulnerable.

“You think… anyone comin’ soon?” Quinn asked after a beat of silence, nodding toward their swollen padding. Her tone carried a faint hope mixed with resignation.

Elara shrugged helplessly. “Mommy said I had ‘plenty of room’ earlier. Didn’t bring spares neither.” Her voice cracked slightly around the silicone shield as frustration bubbled up again.

Quinn groaned softly through hers. “Figures. Daddy said same thing this mornin’. ‘Use it all up,’ like we got a choice.” She leaned back against the crib’s rails with an exaggerated huff that turned into another cringe when things shifted below.

Minutes ticked by in the quiet dorm room, the only sound the faint crinkle of Elara’s and Quinn’s overburdened diapers as they shifted uncomfortably. The door creaked open suddenly, and Daddy stepped inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. His eyes flicked between the two girls, a warm smile spreading across his face. “How are my girls doing today?” he asked, his voice carrying that familiar mix of cheer and authority as he crossed the room toward them.

Before Elara could even muster a response around her pacifier, his hand was already between her legs, pressing firmly against the swollen bulk of her diaper. Her cheeks flared crimson, a rush of heat flooding her face as his fingers patted and squeezed, assessing the mess with a casual expertise that made her squirm. She couldn’t meet his gaze, staring hard at the floor while he moved on to Quinn, repeating the process with the same unhurried thoroughness. Quinn let out a muffled huff through her pacifier, her own face tinting pink under the scrutiny.

“My, it feels like both of you have been extra good today!” he said, stepping back with a pleased grin. His tone was teasing but approving, as if their sodden states were some kind of achievement. “Who wants to go first?”

Elara’s head snapped up, perhaps a bit too eagerly. The thought of relief after hours of discomfort spurred her forward. “I would, please,” she mumbled politely around the silicone shield, her voice soft and garbled but clear enough. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, unable to look at him directly after such a vulnerable request.

He chuckled, a low, amused sound that made her stomach twist. “Quinn it is!” he declared brightly, reaching out to help Quinn to her feet.

Quinn shot Elara a quick, apologetic glance, her eyes softening with sympathy as she stood with Daddy’s assistance. Elara just sighed, slumping back. The heavy weight of her diaper pressed harder against her as she settled. She tried not to listen too closely as Daddy led Quinn to the changing table, but the sounds were impossible to ignore.

“Alright, up you go,” Daddy said, guiding Quinn down onto her back with a gentle hand. The crinkle of her bloated diaper was loud as she lay flat, followed by the distinct rip of tabs being undone. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Been quite a day for you, hasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Quinn mumbled through her pacifier, barely audible over the rustle of supplies—wipes, powder, a fresh diaper. The faint scent of baby lotion drifted through the air as Daddy worked efficiently, murmuring little encouragements.

“There we are, much better,” he said after a few moments, securing the new diaper around Quinn with a final pat. “Good as new. Sit tight for a sec while I take care of your sister.”

Elara’s hands fidgeted in her lap as she waited, trying to block out the mix of relief and envy twisting in her chest. Her own diaper felt heavier by contrast now, each squish more unbearable knowing she was so close to being next. She kept her gaze averted when Daddy finally turned back to her, though she could feel his eyes on her slumped form.

“Alright, sweetheart, your turn,” he said at last, stepping over with that same easy smile. “Let’s get you sorted.”

Elara shuffled awkwardly to the changing table, taking Quinn’s spot as the faint warmth from her friend’s turn lingered on the padded surface. She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, cheeks already burning as Daddy tugged her skirt up and out of the way. His large hand pressed against the swollen bulk of her diaper, fingers prodding and squeezing the thick, squishy mess inside with deliberate slowness. A grin spread across his face as he looked down at her.

“Wow, you’ve really filled this up, haven’t you? Such a good girl today,” he said, his voice low and teasing. His palm rubbed against the padding, mushing it around with a crinkling squelch that echoed in the quiet dorm room. The pressure sent an unexpected shiver through her, his touch lingering just long enough to stir something in her core, teasing through the layers of soggy material. Her breath hitched around the pacifier still in her mouth, body tensing as heat crept up her neck.

Just as she started to feel that flicker of excitement build, he pulled back with a playful chuckle, easing off completely. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, shifting to business as he undid the tabs of her diaper with practiced ease. The cool air hit her skin as he worked, wiping away the mess and dusting powder over her before sliding a fresh diaper under her hips and securing it snugly. As he adjusted her position to finish up, his hand “accidentally” got a bit of water onto her skirt.

“Oh, oops! Looks like we got this all wet,” he said, feigning surprise as he tugged the soaked fabric off entirely, leaving her bare-legged save for the new diaper hugging her frame. He helped her sit up and then stand, giving her padded bottom a light pat. “All done!” he proclaimed with a satisfied nod, turning as if to leave.

Elara glanced at Quinn, both of them moving toward their small wardrobe to grab fresh skirts. They barely took a step before Daddy’s voice stopped them cold.

“Ohh no, you two are too cute without skirts,” he said, turning back with a mischievous glint in his eye. “And it makes it easier to check you like this. No skirts till dinner.”

Elara froze mid-step, her face igniting in a deep crimson blush as the words sank in. No skirts? Her heart sank—she still had another class to attend before the day was through. The thought of waddling through the corridors, sitting in a lecture hall with nothing but her thick diaper on display beneath her top… it made her stomach twist with dread. Quinn mirrored her shock, eyes wide behind her pacifier, but neither dared protest.

Daddy gave them one last grin before stepping out of the dorm, the door clicking shut behind him. The room fell silent save for the faint crinkle of their fresh padding as they stood there, exposed and humiliated, left to face whatever came next.