Chapter 42 — Public Scrutiny

Elara fidgeted with the pacifier in her mouth, finally pulling it out with a small pop to speak clearly. “There’s no way he’s serious, right?” She asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and disbelief as she glanced at Quinn.

Quinn shifted on her feet, looking just as uneasy, the bulk of her fresh diaper crinkling softly. “And what do we do if he isn’t bluffing?” She muttered, her tone heavy with resignation.

“Hell if I know…” Elara grumbled, her brow furrowing as she clutched the pacifier tighter. “But there’s no way we can go to class like this!”

“What exactly do you propose to do instead? Skip class?” Quinn shot back, rolling her eyes with a huff. “I’m sure that wouldn’t get us in trouble.”

“Well, obviously,” Elara snapped, twirling the pacifier between her fingers as she began pacing the small dorm room, her diaper rustling with every step. “We could wrap something around us. A blanket, maybe?”

“Yeah, because that wouldn’t look odd at all,” Quinn retorted, her sarcasm biting as she crossed her arms.

“Are you going to be helpful or just shoot down all my ideas?” Elara whipped around to face her, glaring daggers.

“I don’t know if there is a good solution,” Quinn sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned against the bedframe. “It’s not like they aren’t going to be looking for us to comply. And if we don’t go through with it, you think they won’t hear about the two students wandering around in just their diapers? It’s a lose-lose.”

“Comforting…” Elara muttered under her breath, her pacing slowing as the weight of their situation pressed harder.

“It’s not like the entire damn school doesn’t already know, Elara,” Quinn said, her voice softer but still edged with frustration. “Come on, we’re already practically the laughingstock of this place. How is this any different?”

“Any different?!” Elara’s voice pitched up, incredulous. “Every single student will see our diapers!”

“And they haven’t before?” Quinn countered, raising an eyebrow. “Between Mommy or Daddy checking us right in the middle of the hall, or heck, a professor dragging us to the front of class and spanking us with our skirts hiked up? Come on, Elara… I know it sucks, but it’s not like this is anything new.”

Elara bit her lip hard, her fingers tightening around the pacifier until her knuckles whitened. “I don’t know if I can, Quinn…” she admitted quietly, her voice cracking as she stared at the floor.

Quinn stepped closer, her expression softening. She offered a small, reassuring smile before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to Elara’s lips. The brief contact was warm and grounding, cutting through Elara’s spiraling panic for a moment. Before she could react further, Quinn took the pacifier from her hand and gently pushed it back into place between Elara’s lips. Taking Elara’s hand in hers, she gave it a firm squeeze. “Just follow me,” she said with a quiet smile, her tone steady despite everything. With a small tug, she pulled Elara toward the dorm door.

Elara hesitated for a split second, heart pounding at the reality of stepping out like this. But Quinn’s grip was unyielding, and slowly, reluctantly, she let herself be led out into the corridor.

Elara’s cheeks burned a vivid crimson as she shuffled down the corridor alongside Quinn. The hallway buzzed with students milling about between classes, and more than one stopped dead in their tracks to stare. Some didn’t even bother hiding their reactions—open giggles burst from small clusters of onlookers, while others leaned in to whisper before letting out sharp laughs. “Look at the babies waddling around!” one voice called out mockingly, followed by another chiming in, “Need a bottle with that diaper?” The taunts sliced through Elara like knives, each word deepening her despair and making her wish she could just vanish into the stone walls.

What was she thinking, letting Quinn drag her out like this? Her mind spiraled as she gripped Quinn’s hand tighter, half out of desperation for some anchor and half out of resentment for being pulled into this public humiliation. Her eyes darted to the floor, avoiding every gaze boring into her, but there was no escaping the weight of their stares or the snickers that followed in their wake. The thick padding between her legs felt like a neon sign advertising her shame, each rustle screaming for attention she didn’t want.

Her only sliver of reprieve was that Quinn was dressed—or rather, undressed—the same way. No skirt, just the bulky diaper on full display beneath her short top, crinkling just as loudly as they moved. Misery loved company, at least, though it did little to dull the sting of being gawked at like circus freaks. Quinn’s face was flushed too, her jaw tight around her pacifier, but she kept her head up, tugging Elara along with stubborn determination.

“Keep moving,” Quinn mumbled through the silicone shield, barely audible over the hum of mockery around them. “Don’t let ‘em see it gets to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Elara muttered back, her own pacifier muffling her words into a garbled mess. Her free hand twitched, itching to cover herself somehow, but there was nothing to grab—no blanket, no skirt, nothing but air and exposure.

Another group ahead slowed as they passed, one girl pointing blatantly while her friend stifled a laugh behind her hand. “Aww, do you two need a stroller or something?” she cooed in a fake-sweet tone before bursting into giggles. Elara’s stomach twisted harder, her steps faltering until Quinn gave her hand a sharp yank to keep her going.

“Ignore it,” Quinn hissed under her breath, though her own cheeks were flaming now. “We’re almost there.”

Almost there felt like an eternity as they navigated the gauntlet of stares and jeers, every second stretching Elara’s nerves thinner. The classroom door loomed ahead like a finish line, but even reaching it offered no real escape—she knew stepping inside would only shift the audience, not erase the humiliation of being seen like this by everyone. Her despair churned hotter, mixing with a growing frustration at how powerless she felt to change any of it.

Elara let out a shaky sigh of relief as they slipped into their seats near the back with as little fanfare as possible. Sitting down at least made her predicament slightly less glaring than when she was standing—her exposed diaper now partially hidden beneath the desk. It did precious little to stifle the giggles rippling through the room, however. Fellow students cast pointed looks their way, some whispering behind cupped hands while others didn’t bother hiding their smirks. The heat in Elara’s cheeks refused to fade, her hands gripping the edge of her desk as if it could anchor her against the wave of embarrassment.

The professor, a wiry man with a perpetually stern frown, glanced over at them as he arranged his notes at the front. His eyes lingered for a moment, taking in their lack of skirts and the unmistakable bulk beneath their tops. A bemused expression flickered across his face before he turned away, muttering something under his breath. Elara swore she caught the words “always around the house cup…” trailing off into an exasperated grumble, though she couldn’t be sure over the low hum of chatter in the room.

“Could this get any worse?” she mumbled around her pacifier, barely audible even to herself, as she slouched lower in her seat.

Beside her, Quinn shifted uncomfortably, the rustle of her own diaper echoing in tandem. “Don’t jinx it,” she hissed through hers, shooting Elara a sideways glance. “Just… keep your head down.”

Elara nodded faintly, though keeping her head down did nothing to block out the occasional snicker or the feeling of eyes still darting toward them every few seconds. She tried to focus on pulling out her parchment and quill, fumbling with shaky fingers, but every small movement made her hyper-aware of the padding hugging her frame—and how little it covered from view if anyone looked too closely. The professor began his lecture on advanced transfiguration theory, his voice droning over familiar concepts, but Elara couldn’t concentrate. Her mind kept circling back to her exposed state, to the muttered comment she might’ve misheard, to how long she’d have to endure this before dinner, when skirts were hopefully allowed again.

A girl two rows ahead turned subtly, catching Elara’s eye before whispering something to her seatmate with a poorly suppressed grin. The second student stifled a laugh, and Elara’s grip on her quill tightened until it nearly snapped. She wanted to sink through the floor, to disappear entirely from this room full of judgment—but there was no escaping it. All she could do was sit there, trapped between humiliation and helplessness, praying the hour would pass faster than humanly possible.

The class finally settled into a rhythm as the professor‌ droned on, scribbling complex diagrams on the chalkboard. Thankfully, the initial buzz surrounding Elara and Quinn’s skirtless entrance began to die down, with most students turning their attention to note-taking or whispered side conversations. Elara exhaled quietly through her pacifier, her tense shoulders loosening just a fraction as the weight of constant stares lifted, if only slightly.

Not long after, a familiar pressure built low in her abdomen, an insistent nudge she’d grown all too accustomed to recognizing. Her bladder ached, full and demanding release. She shifted in her seat and then sighed internally. There was no point fighting it—not here, not now. With a resigned relaxation of her muscles, she let go.

A warm rush spread through her core almost instantly, the sensation both intimate and startling as it flooded into the thick padding between her legs. The heat blossomed outward, seeping into every layer of the absorbent material, making it swell subtly beneath her. At first, it was just a gentle warmth, like a comforting blanket wrapping around her most sensitive areas, soothing in its familiarity despite the context. But as the flow continued, the diaper grew heavier, expanding with a faint squish as it soaked up more and more. The padding thickened against her skin, pressing back against her inner thighs with each passing second. A soft hiss accompanied the act, barely audible over the professor’s lecture, but to Elara, it felt deafening in her hyper-aware state. The warmth lingered even after she finished, trapped by the snug fit of the material, keeping that damp heat close against her body—a constant, tactile reminder of what she’d just done.

Her cheeks flushed anew as she shifted slightly, feeling the now-soggier diaper conform to her movements with an unmistakable heft. A flicker of concern crept into her mind, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. She was growing… too comfortable with this. Using diapers had become second nature lately—releasing without hesitation, barely thinking twice about it. Where was the resistance she used to feel? The internal fight to hold on until privacy or a change? It was slipping away, replaced by this unsettling ease, and that realization twisted something deep inside her. Was she really getting used to this life?

Then another thought struck her like a punch to the gut, wiping away any trace of conflicted comfort. The more she went potty like this, the more obvious her diaper would become. Already bulkier and freshly swollen with warmth, it would only get worse with time. Every additional accident would make it sag lower, puff out further beneath her short top—no skirt to hide even a fraction of it. And when other students noticed? When they saw how full it was getting right here in class? Her stomach churned at the image of renewed giggles, pointed fingers, maybe even louder taunts about needing a change mid-lecture. The humiliation waiting for her was inevitable, looming larger with each passing minute.

“Shit…” she muttered under her breath around the pacifier. Her hands fidgeted on her desk, itching to cover herself somehow, though she knew it was pointless. All she could do was sit there, trapped in her seat with a warming, swelling secret no one could miss for long.

Elara’s own spiraling thoughts about her swelling diaper and the inevitable humiliation were momentarily overshadowed by what was unfolding beside her. Quinn had started to fidget more noticeably in her seat, her movements growing restless. At first, Elara hadn’t paid much mind to it, too caught up in her own dread, but soon it became impossible to ignore. Quinn’s face was tight with strain, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as she shifted uncomfortably, clearly fighting a losing battle.

A small, barely audible whimper escaped Quinn’s lips, muffled by the pacifier but carrying a raw edge of distress. Elara’s eyes flicked over just in time to see Quinn lift her bum slightly off the seat, as if trying to hold back or minimize the damage. But it was no use. Beneath the already bulky diaper, the seat of the padding began to bulge outward, sagging with an unmistakable weight as Quinn helplessly pooped herself right there in class. The subtle shift in shape was painfully obvious without a skirt to conceal it, the material stretching and crinkling softly under the new load.

More than one student caught on quickly. Heads turned in their row, sly glances morphing into stifled snickers as whispers spread like wildfire. “Oh my god, did she just—?” one girl hissed to her friend, not even bothering to lower her voice much. “What a baby,” another muttered nearby, earning a few choked laughs from those within earshot. The taunts stung even secondhand, and Elara’s chest tightened with sympathy as she saw Quinn’s face burn crimson behind her pacifier.

The professor, who had been mid-sentence about transfiguring inanimate objects, snapped his head up at the rising noise. “Enough!” he barked sharply, his voice cutting through the giggles like a whip. “Eyes forward unless you’d like detention for disrupting my lecture.” The room quieted almost instantly under his glare, students reluctantly turning back to their notes, though a few still stole smirking glances over their shoulders.

Quinn seemed to deflate entirely in her seat, slumping low with her head bowed, avoiding all eye contact. Her cheeks were aflame, humiliation etched into every line of her posture as she sat there in the now-heavier diaper. The faint crinkle when she shifted only deepened her misery, a sound Elara knew too well. She wanted to reach out, squeeze Quinn’s hand, or offer some whispered comfort through their pacifiers, but she couldn’t bring herself to move—not with so many eyes still lingering nearby.

Elara’s heart ached for her friend, but a selfish part of her couldn’t help hoping this would be the last of their extreme exposure for today. Between her own soaked padding and Quinn’s fresh mess drawing attention back to them both, they were already teetering on the edge of unbearable shame. She bit down harder on her pacifier, staring blankly at the parchment in front of her, praying the rest of class would pass without another incident—or another pair of eyes noticing just how much worse things could get if they looked too closely at either of them.