regressionschool

[regressionschool]

Surprised and Soaked

You’re standing in the nursery, the soft blue cloud-print onesie hanging open around your thighs. You hadn't even noticed that the zipper had slipped down. You’re too distracted to care, though—because something just feels different.

You pat the front of your diaper with both hands and freeze.

It’s wet.

Not just damp… not soaked either… but definitely not dry anymore. And the strangest thing? You didn’t even realize it had happened.

Your mouth forms a little "O" and your eyes go big. “I… I didn’t do it on purpose…”

Then your heart leaps in your chest—you didn’t notice it at all. That means the un-potty training is working!

A squeal of excitement escapes your lips. “It’s happening! It’s really happening!!”

You bounce on your toes, the thick padding between your legs giving a soft, puffy crinkle with every move. You don’t even zip up the onesie. You just grab the sides and rush out into the hall.

“Daddyyyy!” you shout, bare feet pattering against the floor.

You find him right where you hoped—in the playroom, organizing your toys. He turns around just in time to see you burst in, beaming from ear to ear and showing off your soggy diaper like a prize.

“Well now,” Daddy says with a surprised little smile. “What’s got my baby girl so excited, huh?”

You practically throw yourself into his arms. “I wet!” you exclaim. “I didn’t even know I was doing it!”

Daddy kneels down and places one warm hand on the front of your diaper. He gives it a soft squeeze. The padding rustles damply under his palm.

“Ohh yes you did, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a proud grin. “And you didn’t even feel it happening?”

You shake your head wildly, pigtails swishing. “Nope! It just happened!”

Daddy chuckles, rubbing your back with one hand while patting your diaper with the other. “That means your little body is learning to forget all those big girl habits. You’re becoming Daddy’s full-time baby girl.”

Your heart flutters. You feel warm all over—inside and out.

“But this diaper’s only a little wet, princess,” he adds, giving you one last squish. “It can hold much more before you need a change.”

You beam proudly, bouncing in place. “Should I fill it up before nap time?”

Daddy smiles, brushing your hair back. “Yes, sweetpea. That’s exactly what I want.”

[regressionschool]

Fix it, Daddy!

Mia stomped down the hallway, her frilly dress puffing and fluttering with every furious step. She shoved open the nursery door and planted herself right in front of Daddy, fists balled up at her sides.

“Daddy!” she whined, her face scrunching up. “My pull-up shows! It's embarrassing! I need big girl pants if we're going out!”

Daddy looked up from where he was packing a diaper bag, his face breaking into a wide, amused grin. He chuckled warmly and wagged his finger at her.

“Oh, Mia, Mia, Mia," he said with a mock sigh, "you know littles like you don’t get big girl pants. Especially not today!”

“But Daaaddyyy—” Mia’s voice rose into a sharp whine as she stamped her foot for extra effect. Her puffy skirt bobbed up, flashing the white and pastel-printed pull-up underneath. She crossed her arms tightly, cheeks burning hotter than the summer sun printed on her dress.

Daddy chuckled again, setting the bag down with a soft thump. He walked over and knelt so he was eye level with his pouty girl.

“Now, pumpkin," he said, voice dripping with syrupy patience, “what did we talk about this morning? Hm? Littles who want to go to the park have to dress properly, right?”

Mia huffed, scuffing her toe against the carpet. “Yeah, but I look like a dumb baby…”

Daddy’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, good, because you are Daddy’s little baby girl. And besides…” He gently flicked the hem of her skirt, making her squeak as it flipped up again, “you chose the cloud and sunshine dress, didn’t you?”

Mia scowled. She had picked it, but only because Daddy had taken away all her other choices.

Still, she wasn't ready to give up. She gave Daddy her very best serious face, puffing her cheeks out like an indignant chipmunk. “If I hafta wear a pull-up," she bargained, "I don't wanna everybody seeing it! It's not fair! Can't you do something?!”

Daddy tapped his chin, pretending to think very hard. Mia watched him eagerly, hope flickering in her chest.

“Well," Daddy said slowly, his eyes gleaming, "if you really don’t want your pull-up showing... Daddy can fix that.”

Mia bounced on her toes, her bows jiggling. “Yes! Fix it, Daddy! Please!”

He smiled sweetly, taking her hand. “Alright, princess. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Mia followed him over to the changing mat, her frilly skirt swishing with every step. She climbed up onto the soft surface and lay back obediently, happy that Daddy was finally going to make her look less babyish.

Daddy hummed a lullaby under his breath as he rummaged through the diaper bag, finally pulling out a thick, crinkly square of white plastic.

Mia blinked. “Uh… what’s that for?”

Daddy smiled wider, unfolding the heavy, pillowy diaper with a dramatic flourish. “You wanted to hide your pull-up, didn’t you, pumpkin?”

Mia swallowed nervously, her excitement wilting. “Y-yeah...?”

“Well, nothing hides a pull-up better than a nice, thick diaper!”

Before Mia could protest, Daddy gently lifted her by the ankles, sliding the bulky diaper under her bottom. The pull-up made a faint crinkle as he patted it down, smoothing the thick padding over it.

“W-wait—” Mia stammered, but Daddy was already sprinkling sweet-smelling powder across her thighs and belly, making her squirm.

“No backing out now, baby girl," Daddy cooed as he pulled the front of the diaper up snugly over her tummy. "You asked for this, remember?"

With practiced ease, he taped her in securely, each tape making a loud rrrip sound that echoed in the nursery. Mia whimpered softly, feeling the fresh bulk forcing her legs apart.

When Daddy sat her up, the diaper crinkled so loudly that Mia blushed down to her toes.

"There!" Daddy said proudly, giving her thickly padded bottom a few firm pats. "Now nobody can see your pull-up... because they'll be too busy seeing your diaper!"

Mia looked down at herself, mortified. The diaper peeked out from under her too-short skirt even worse than the pull-up had. It was thick enough that she could feel it puffing out behind her, like a pillow strapped to her bottom.

"B-but... Daddy...!" she whimpered, lip wobbling.

Daddy just chuckled and booped her nose. “Uh-uh, little missy. You said you didn’t want your pull-up showing. Daddy solved the problem!”

Mia wanted to argue, but Daddy was already bustling around again, gathering wipes, bottles, and a soft pink pacifier.

"Now," Daddy said brightly, clipping the pacifier to her dress with a smiling sun clip, "let’s go to the park, sweetheart. Everyone’s going to think you’re the cutest little baby girl!"

Mia’s heart sank as Daddy scooped her up onto his hip. The thick diaper crinkled loudly with every little wiggle she made. Outside, she could already hear the sounds of children laughing and playing.

As Daddy carried her out the door, she buried her red face into his shoulder. The warm smell of his shirt and the soft, rhythmic bounce of his steps were almost comforting — almost enough to make her forget how very, very babyish she looked.

Almost.

[regressionschool]

The Very Soggy Caterpillar

In the soft, crinkly quiet of a nursery, one bright morning after a fresh change, there was acolorful Caterpillar crawling across the front. It was bright and dry and ready for a busy day!

In the morning,

after a warm bottle of milk, the little one let out a sleepy yawn... and a soft, whispery hiss filled the diaper.

The caterpillar got a little damp.

A bit later, after playtime with blocks,

there was a giggly squirm, a bounce on a padded bottom — and then another warm, gentle spurt.

The caterpillar's world grew heavier and wetter.

At snacktime, after some apple slices and crackers,

the little one sat cross-legged on the floor. The diaper let out another long hissss, and the caterpillar's colorful patch grew darker and puffier.

During storytime, curled up in a fuzzy beanbag chair,

the little one wriggled and wiggled, and with a sigh, added another hot rush to the squishy seat.

Now the caterpillar was soaked from tail to head!

After a big cup of juice and some toddling outside,

the little one gave a big stretch and another sweet, crinkly squat. The diaper sagged with a squelch, and the caterpillar was completely soggy!

Before naptime,

the little one waddled sleepily, legs bowed wide. The diaper hung so low and heavy, the caterpillar looked like he might slide right off!

And finally, before bedtime,

after a day full of bottles, snacks, juice, naps, and lots of waddling, a gentle hand scooped up the very soggy little one.

With crinkly peels and sweet baby powder, the caterpillar diaper was peeled away, plop! — landing heavy and wet in the diaper pail.

The little one was cleaned, powdered, and snuggled into a fresh, cozy, crinkly new diaper with a smiling, dry caterpillar ready to start all over again tomorrow.

The little one sighed in relief, hugged their stuffed animal, and drifted off into warm, padded dreams.

before:

and after:

[regressionschool]

What’s the very first thing you notice when you see her like this—the way her tiny toes wiggle against the soft mat, or the way her whole body vibrates with pure, bubbling joy?

You pause in the doorway, just watching for a moment, not wanting to break the magic. There she is, your sweet little one, right in the middle of her colorful, messy kingdom. The nursery smells faintly of baby powder and the warm, sweet scent of her lotion, the air humming with the soft crinkle of her diaper every time she shifts. Her arms are thrown high into the air, little hands spread wide, as if she’s trying to catch every single giggle that bubbles out of her mouth.

Around her, the toys have spilled from the bright pink bin, a flood of colors and fluff. Plushies with stitched smiles, squishy balls, rattles that clack and jingle. She grabs a purple stuffed rhino, clutching it close against her chest for a moment before planting a sloppy kiss on its snout. The pacifier bobbles in her mouth as she giggles, the sound high and bright, like tiny bells.

You can’t help the swell of emotion in your chest, watching her like this. There’s pride, yes, but also something deeper—an aching, tender love that stretches far beyond words. She’s safe here. She’s yours. And every little squirm and squeal, every crinkly movement, is part of the rhythm you two have built together—day after day, cuddle after cuddle, diaper change after diaper change.

You move closer, careful to let your footsteps sound soft against the mat. She catches sight of you and her whole face lights up, eyes shining, cheeks round and rosy. Without thinking, she reaches up, little hands grasping at the air, wanting you, needing you. You kneel down beside her, feeling the thick quilted mat puff under your knees, and gather her up easily, effortlessly, into your arms.

Her diaper presses warm and thick against your side, crinkling between you as she clings, her little body wriggling in excitement. You stroke her hair, feeling the silky ribbons tied at the ends of her pigtails, and murmur softly, almost like a lullaby, “There’s my happy girl... Did you have so much fun with your stuffies, huh?”

She nods fervently, the paci bouncing, and presses her forehead against your shoulder with a small, contented sigh. You can feel the slight squish of her soggy diaper against you, and it only deepens your sense of purpose—the quiet promise that you'll always be there to take care of her, no matter how small, no matter how silly, no matter how many diapers she soaks through.

You rock her gently, slow and soothing, letting her ride the wave of her excitement down into something softer, lazier. Her tiny fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt, her breathing already slowing. You know the next step of your routine without even thinking—a fresh, fluffy diaper, a little cuddle pile with her favorite plushies, maybe a bottle if she's still this snuggly.

You smile into her hair and give her a kiss just above her ear, feeling her sigh again, this time even sleepier.

There’s no need to rush. The whole afternoon stretches ahead of you both, warm and safe and perfectly, wonderfully little.

[regressionschool]

Big Girl Rebellion

I used to be potty-trained.

I mean, really trained. I had sparkle undies with cartoon kittens, knew when I had to go, and even wiped all by myself. I used to feel proud of that—smug, even. Big girl Sophie, the girl who didn’t need help. The girl who didn’t wear diapers like the other littles.

But that was before.

Before they decided I needed to be “reminded” of my place. Before the charts and the baby bottles and the locking potty lid. Before the first thick diaper was taped onto me while I screamed and kicked and swore I’d never use it.

Spoiler: I did.

And now? Now I’m sitting in the middle of the playroom, legs spread wide by the swollen padding between them, surrounded by plushies I didn’t choose and building blocks I’m expected to play with. I’m wearing a pastel onesie that snaps between my legs, stretched tight over a very obvious, very used diaper.

And I’m not letting Nanny Clara change me.

“You’re stinky again, Sophie,” she says gently, kneeling in front of me with the calm, patronizing tone they all use. Like I’m some baby who doesn’t know better. “Come on, sweetie. Time to get you cleaned up.”

“No,” I snap. I turn my face away like the toddlers do when they’re being bratty. “I like it.”

She blinks, but only for a moment. She’s trained for this. “Sophie,” she tries again, more firmly this time. “You’ve been sitting in that diaper for almost an hour. I can see it hanging between your knees.”

I spread my legs wider on purpose, grabbing one of the blocks and banging it on the floor.

“So?”

“So,” she says, biting back her sigh, “you need to be changed.”

“No, I don’t.”

She pauses. “You used to be such a big girl…”

I round on her. “Exactly. Used to. But you took that away. You put me in these. You made me sit in the corner until I messed myself. You’re the one who clapped when I did it. So now? Now this is you getting what you wanted.”

I shift deliberately, the mush shifting with me, and watch her flinch just the tiniest bit.

Deep down, some part of me loves it.

Nanny Clara puts the wipes and clean diaper back in the basket, standing slowly. “Fine,” she says, her tone still syrupy sweet. “You can come find me when you’re ready for a change, okay, sugarplum?”

I ignore her. She walks off.

Good.

I hate her. I hate all of them. I hate that they took away my panties, made me ask permission for everything, from snacks to TV time. But mostly, I hate that I stopped fighting.

Because now? I’m… getting used to it.

The padding between my legs feels natural. The squish doesn’t bother me anymore. The smell makes people wrinkle their noses and call me names “stinky butt,” “messy miss,” “diaper girl” but I’ve started to like those names.

When people talk down to me, coo at me, lift my skirt to check if I’m wet—I feel small. Powerless.

But safe.

That’s the worst part.

“Hey, diaper girl,” a voice calls.

I glance up. It's Brandon, one of the caretakers. Young, tall, broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up to show his arms. He’s smiling, crouching to my level, and he’s got that teasing twinkle in his eye.

I shift a little, letting the weight of my messy diaper tug at my hips.

He wrinkles his nose. “Yup, that’s what I thought.”

“What?”

“You filled your pants again, huh?” he says. He’s not mad. He’s amused. Like I’m a toddler who just finger painted on the walls.

I look down at the blocks, pretending not to care, but my cheeks go pink anyway.

“Did you already tell Clara no?”

I nod, sulking.

“Figures,” he chuckles. “You’re always so stubborn. Used to be the big bossy girl, remember? Telling everyone you were too old for naps and that only babies wore diapers.”

“I was right,” I mutter.

He leans in. “You still think you’re not a baby?”

I glare at him.

His eyes flick down to the bulging seat of my diaper.

“Coulda fooled me.”

I should hate that.

But I don’t.

I like the way he looks at me now. Not like an equal. Not like a girl with control. But like a helpless little thing who can’t even keep her pants clean.

And maybe I am that now. Not because they forced it on me but because I let them. Because it’s easier to lean into it than to keep fighting. Because it’s soft and warm and oddly comforting to give up the grown-up fight and just be… soggy.

“Come on,” he says, scooping me up like I weigh nothing.

I squeal in surprise, my arms going around his neck on instinct. “I didn’t say yes!”

He smirks. “You didn’t say no either.”

He carries me easily, one arm under my bottom, not even flinching at the squish he’s got his hand pressed against. The air shifts as he walks, and I catch a whiff of myself, sharp, thick, unmistakable.

He definitely notices. But he doesn’t stop holding me.

“Bet you’re proud of yourself, huh?” he murmurs, bouncing me slightly. “Filling your diapers like a good little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” I whisper, but it’s weak.

“Coulda fooled me,” he repeats, echoing himself.

He lays me down on the changing mat in the nursery, the crinkle of the plastic loud under my onesie. I stare at the ceiling as he un-snaps me, exposing the bulging diaper underneath. His hand hovers.

“Still want to say no?”

I glance down at the disaster I made in my pants, and I actually smile.

“Maybe just five more minutes,” I say softly. “I like how it feels.”

He raises a brow, but he doesn’t argue. Just gently re-snaps my onesie and sits beside me on the mat, tousling my hair.

“Guess you’re really one of the littles now, huh?”

I nod.

No shame. No fight left.

Just a warm, squishy diaper and the soft hand of someone who treats me like the messy little girl I’ve become.

And for the first time, I don’t want to be anything else.

[regressionschool]

Claire strode into the break room like a storm cloud. The walls were dotted in pastel garlands, the snack table overflowing with frosted cookies shaped like eggs, and the scent of sweet vanilla candles hung in the air. Amanda had gone all out decorating for the Easter party, beaming with pride as she adjusted a sparkly bunny centerpiece. Claire scoffed loud enough to silence the room. “God, it looks like a toddler’s birthday exploded in here. What’s next, sippy cups?”

Amanda’s smile faltered. Mark, standing near the coffee pot in his khakis and bunny-ear headband, glanced over with a slow shake of his head. Claire caught the look and rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that. It’s ridiculous. This whole holiday’s just an excuse for adults to act like babies.” She grabbed a cookie with aggressive fingers, bit into it, and muttered through a mouthful of frosting, “Tastes like glitter and regret.” Her coworkers exchanged glances, most just politely smiling, but Mark lingered—his gaze cool, unreadable. Claire noticed and bristled. “What? You gonna cry too if I don’t wear bunny ears?”

The next morning, Claire stirred slowly, wrapped in a strange warmth and softness. She stretched, expecting sheets—but her hand hit plush fleece. Something was… off. Her body felt weirdly heavy, her limbs a little clumsy, her head cloudy like she'd woken from a deep dream. She blinked up at a softly lit room painted in pale yellows and pinks. Stuffed animals lined the shelves, and above her—fluttery paper bunnies danced from the ceiling fan.

She sat up with a start. Or tried to. The thick crinkle beneath her made her freeze. She looked down. Her legs were spread wide by a snow-white nappy, cartoon bunnies dotting the front. A pink onesie stretched over her chest, snug around her hips, fastened tightly between her thighs. “Wh…what?” she slurred, tongue thick, voice softer than she remembered. She tried to swing her legs over the edge of the changing table she was lying on, but her balance felt... babyish. She whined softly and sucked in a breath—her thumb found her mouth before she realized what she was doing. “No-no... m'not…” she babbled, as her thoughts dripped through her fingers like syrup.

Mark adjusted the camera, focusing in on the squishy little scene before him. Claire sat on the padded mat, knees spread wide, bunny ears lopsided on her head. Her expression was one of dreamy, babbling delight, arms wrapped tight around a pink plush rabbit twice her size. She rocked slightly, cooing nonsense to it, the faintest lisp curling the corners of her words. “Buhh-bunneh's so fwuffy… wuv my bunny…”

Mark grinned. He zoomed in. The snap of the shutter didn’t faze her—her foggy mind too far gone to care. She hugged her bunny tighter, letting out a soft giggle as her eyes fluttered. Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. She paused, tensed slightly, and let out a quiet gasp. A low hiss filled the room, and her nappy began to puff, yellow spreading beneath the bunnies. Her cheeks went pink, mouth open in innocent shock, but she didn’t cry or hide. She just snuggled her bunny and sighed. Click. Mark took the shot, perfectly framed. “Amanda’s going to love this,” he said softly, already picturing her reaction. “Happy Easter, baby Claire.”

[regressionschool]

Please Think Twice Before Using the Bedtime Owl Dream Machine (From Someone Who Learned the Hard Way)

Hi… I don’t usually post stuff like this, but after what I’ve been through, I had to say something. Especially to any other girls out there who are still working on staying dry at night. You deserve the truth — and honestly, I wish someone had warned me before I got that “Bedtime Owl Dream Machine.”

At first, it sounded perfect. A cute, sleepy little owl with “potty-positive” dreams? Something to help me relax at night and reinforce good habits? I thought it might finally be the thing that helped me wake up dry. But the reality? The truth is, it did the opposite.

The “Morning Routine” dream was the worst offender for me. It’s supposed to make you feel fresh and ready to use the potty first thing… but all it really did was make me too cozy, too relaxed. I’d wake up feeling foggy and soft and... well, soggy. My EasyUps were always wet. And not just damp — soggy. The dream lulled me into a place where using the potty wasn’t even part of the plan anymore. I wasn’t waking up to go — I was dreaming I already had. I’d drift out of sleep with this calm, floating feeling, and realize it had already happened. Again.

And that’s not all.

The worst was “The Road Trip” and “The Shopping Spree” dreams. They both had this weird way of teaching you to hold it. Like, they'd make you feel proud about ignoring your body and waiting. But that’s not what we need when we’re trying to retrain our bladders and relearn the signals!

It made things worse, not better. I started doubting the urge to go. Ignoring it. Waiting. Hoping I’d “be a big girl” by holding it a little longer. That’s what the dreams said was best. And honestly? That led to way more accidents than I’d had before.

But the part that really freaked me out? One night, I was woken up by an actual alarm outside my bedroom. Not the owl, a car or something. But I’d been dreaming, and in the dream, I wasn’t in EasyUps anymore. I was in a thick, crinkly diaper. Like the kind with tapes. And there was someone standing over me, checking it. Smiling. Like it was totally normal that I’d need one. I felt so small and helpless when I woke up. It shook me for days.

That machine doesn’t encourage potty training. It encourages compliance. Comfort. Giving up.

If you’re still working on staying dry — like I am — don’t let this cute little owl trick you. Real success comes from tuning in to your body, getting up when you need to go, and not dreaming your way past it.

Be careful. Be kind to yourself. But don’t let something like this steer you backward when you’re trying to move forward.

— A girl who learned the hard way 💧

...transaction complete...retrieving telemetry... Customer Profile: -ID: Ivy, 25 -Location: Santa Rosa, CA Latest Purchase: -Category: Adjustable Bed Rail - Queen -Format: Standard Shipping Customer Forecast¹: -Products per Month: 30-45 -Training [daytime] complete in : n/a -Training [nighttime] complete in : 12-36 months ¹(estimates, for internal research use only)

[regressionschool]

This is the picture of pure bliss. His arms are strong around her, holding her up like she weighs nothing at all, but she knows she’s everything to him. She’s not just in his arms, she’s his. His baby girl. His little one. And he’s her Daddy, the only place in the world where she ever truly feels safe. Her thick, crinkly diaper presses firmly into him, soft and secure, the gentle rustle of it barely audible over the sound of her steady, deepening breaths.

Her thick, crinkly padding is squished snugly between their bodies, pressed right up against his chest. Every shift, every breath reminds her of it, soft and warm and wrapped tight around her bottom, just like he wrapped her up after her change. She can feel the way his hands cup her diapered bum, broad and gentle but firm, like he’s never letting go. His palms press into the padding with just enough pressure to make her squirm a little, reminding her without words that she’s little, that she’s his, that she’s exactly where she belongs.

Her cheek rests on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck, and she can hear the steady beat of his heart under his shirt. Each thump makes her sink a little deeper into her headspace. Her breath slows, her muscles go all soft and floppy. She isn't thinking anymore. She doesn’t need to. Daddy’s got her. Daddy always does.

There’s a faint dusting of baby powder on his black slacks, a quiet, powdery sign of the care he gave her just a little while ago. She remembers laying back for him, being wiped, powdered, and taped up fresh. The memory still glows behind her sleepy eyes.

His grip stays firm. Comforting. Proud. Her body relaxes fully now, her face soft and dreamy as the padding thickens and sags just a little in his palm. He gives her the tiniest squeeze, enough to let her know he noticed, enough to say good girl without speaking.

And as the warmth in her diaper settles and the crinkle softens to a muffled squish, she knows she won’t be put down anytime soon. Daddy’s arms are home. Her soggy nappy is proof she’s being who she’s meant to be. And in his arms, she never has to be anything else.

[regressionschool]

🌸 Good Girl Affirmations 🌸

I’m a good girl, soft and sweet. Good girls don’t hold it, they just let go. Good girls don’t ask when they need to pee. Messy bums mean I’m the bestest me. Diaper puffs up when I do what I should. If it’s warm and squishy, then I’ve been good. Thinking is hard, so I don’t try. I giggle and wiggle and don’t ask why. Good girls are soggy, simple, and slow. I’m a good girl and everyone knows!

Now say it out loud, show everyone what a good girl sounds like!

[regressionschool]

Bis Sister

“Uhm… w-we can wait ‘til Mommy’s back, right…?”

He shifted uncomfortably where he stood in the living room, feet pigeon-toed, thumbs fidgeting near the hem of his oversized shirt. His cheeks were tinged pink, and he couldn’t meet her gaze. The telltale scent in the air had already made the answer obvious, but he clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—he could wriggle out of this.

She crossed her arms, weight shifting to one hip as she looked him over with slow exaggeration, lips pursed. The lacy hem of her dress swayed as she tilted her head.

“Mmm… I dunno, baby bro,” she said, eyes narrowing in playful judgment. “Mommy said no waiting if it’s that kind of stinky, remember?” She stepped closer, the floor creaking softly beneath her bare feet. He squirmed. “And you are definitely that kind of stinky.”

His ears went red. “B-but…”

“No buts,” she said brightly, grabbing his hand and giving it a tug. “Except yours. And it’s definitely due for a cleanup.”

She led him gently but firmly down the hallway toward the nursery—well, technically the guest room, but no one called it that anymore. The soft pastel décor, the oversized changing table, the shelves full of plushies and wipes and rows of stacked nappies—it was his space now. The air in the room carried the faint powdery scent of baby oil and lotion, the comforting clean warmth of a place where he could be little, safe.

And right now, very squishy.

He hesitated as she patted the edge of the changing table. “Hop up,” she chirped, with a grin a little too wide.

“Can’t I just wait…” he tried again, but she cut him off with a gentle poke to the seat of his sagging nappy.

“Wowww, you really filled this one, huh?” she teased, her voice dancing on the edge of a giggle.

He let out a squeaky protest, hands flying to cover his face. She just laughed, guiding him back until he was sitting. The squish was immediate.

“Oof. You squished it when you sat down,” she said with mock sympathy, wrinkling her nose in a way that was just dramatic enough to be silly. “Now I really can’t wait. You’re gonna get rashy if we don’t take care of this.”

He laid back with a defeated little whimper, thumb automatically finding its way to his mouth. She noticed, her smile softening just a hair. Her fingers were steady as she undid the snaps on his onesie and peeled it up over his tummy, exposing the swollen, yellowed nappy beneath.

Her eyes flicked to the side, to the shelf where Mommy always kept everything lined up just so. She knew the routine, kind of—she’d watched Mommy do it a hundred times—but actually doing it herself was a different thing. Her fingers hesitated just a beat too long over the tapes.

Okay, okay… left side first. Then right. Wipe front to back. Cream if he’s red. Powder after that… then fresh nappy. Easy.

She swallowed down her nerves and pasted on a confident smirk.

“You better be glad your big sister’s such a pro at this,” she teased, more to herself than him, as she tore open the first tape with a firm rip. He whimpered again and squirmed, but didn’t argue.

She pulled the front of the diaper down with a wrinkled nose. “Sheesh. I should tell Mommy how mushy her baby boy got!”

He made a noise of protest behind his thumb, his knees instinctively pulling up. She slid the used nappy out from under him, folding it quickly and setting it aside. Then came the wipes—cool and wet, making him twitch and flinch.

“You’re such a wigglebutt,” she muttered as she worked, more focused now. She remembered Mommy always kept one hand on his tummy, firm but gentle, to keep him steady. She copied the motion, pressing lightly and wiping in slow, careful strokes. Her fingers trembled a little the first time she lifted his legs, but she masked it with a lighthearted hum.

She peeked again. A little red back there.

“Hmm… definitely need some cream,” she said aloud, grabbing the tube and squeezing a bit onto her fingers. “Hold still, mister.”

His eyes were closed, face pink, clearly trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. She dabbed the cream on with the care of someone handling something precious, her touch light, her breath held. Then, powder. A soft puff, the familiar scent catching in the air.

Almost done.

She reached for the fresh nappy, unfolding it with a practiced flick and sliding it beneath him in one smooth motion. That, at least, she had practiced—on a teddy bear. Not the same, but close enough.

She paused for just a moment, smoothing it over his tummy, aligning it carefully, making sure it wasn’t too tight. Her confidence grew with every second, every small success.

“There we go… baby boy’s all clean now,” she said in a sing-song voice, leaning over to boop his nose. “Mommy’s gonna be so proud I handled this all by myself.”

He blinked up at her, cheeks still red, but his shoulders had relaxed. He trusted her. That was the part that made her chest feel warm and a little fluttery.

She pulled the first tape across, pressing it down snug. Then the second. The click of it sticking into place echoed in the quiet room.

[regressionschool]

Aww, I can just picture you all pouty and squishy, waiting for someone to notice you were messy… or were you secretly enjoying every mushy step while pretending to be patient?

Either way… I bet you looked adorable waddling around all proud before that fresh, crinkly clean-up!

fresh diape!! is always a nice feelin after having to sit in a messy one for a while <33 all dry an clean

[regressionschool]

I’d be shocked if Daddy didn’t make you waddle around the house a few more laps just to enjoy the view. I bet every crinkle and mushy step makes him smile just a little more. And I bet you had a big smile on your face when you made that mess, huh? You’re doing such a good job being Daddy’s baby.

Hope the diaper as full as can get! Diaper check?

what do you think? full enough for a change? daddy doesn’t think so 🥺

[regressionschool]

[regressionschool]

the essentials 

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, spilling onto the soft, toy-strewn carpet of the nursery. You stood by the open closet, rummaging through the neatly arranged shelves, pulling out the essentials for the outing. Behind you, Anabelle sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by her "friends." Her stuffed elephant, giraffe, and bear were arranged in a semicircle as if they were having a tea party, though her focus was entirely on the contents of her little green bag.

"Anabelle," you called, glancing over your shoulder. "Are you ready to go yet, or are we going to the park tomorrow?"

She looked up with a dramatic pout, her pacifier bobbing in her mouth as she pointed to the bag. "I'm packing, Daddy," she said around the paci, as if the task were a monumental undertaking.

You chuckled, turning back to your own packing. "Well, you'd better hurry. We can’t have your friends missing their playtime."

Her face lit up at the mention of her friends, and she eagerly returned to her task, cramming the stuffed animals into the bag one by one. “Elephant goes first ‘cause he likes the bottom,” she explained to no one in particular, “and Giraffe has to sit up tall, or his neck gets squished.”

You turned back to the changing table, where you’d laid out everything Anabelle might need. Two thick, pastel-printed diapers were folded neatly at the edge, along with a pack of wipes, a container of powder, and her trusty changing mat rolled up and tied with a ribbon. Her bottle sat nearby, half-filled with juice, waiting to be tucked into the insulated pocket of the diaper bag.

"Alright, let's see," you murmured to yourself, checking everything off in your head. "Diapers, check. Wipes, check. Powder, check. Bottle, check. Changing mat, check."

Anabelle looked up from her bag, clutching her bear to her chest. "Daddy, don't forget my sippy cup! It’s pink today!"

You smirked, grabbing the sippy cup from the counter and waving it at her. "Already packed, princess. What about you? Are your friends all set?"

She nodded vigorously, though the bag she was trying to zip bulged awkwardly from its overstuffed contents. "Almost," she said, tugging at the zipper with both hands. When it wouldn’t budge, she looked up at you with wide, imploring eyes. “Help?”

You knelt beside her, gently prying the zipper free and carefully rearranging the stuffed animals to make everything fit. As you worked, Anabelle leaned against your shoulder, humming softly around her pacifier.

"There," you said, zipping the bag closed with a final tug. "All ready to go."

Anabelle clapped her hands excitedly, then scooted over to inspect the diaper bag you’d been packing. Her gaze lingered on the folded diapers, and she scrunched her nose in mock disapproval. "Do we have to bring those?"

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a pointed look. "Unless you plan on going without your diapers today?"

Her cheeks flushed pink as she shook her head, giggling. "Nooo, Daddy!"

"Thought so," you teased, ruffling her hair. “Now, let’s see if you remembered everything for your friends.”

She beamed, eagerly opening her bag to show you its contents: her three favorite stuffed animals, a tiny pink blanket, a toy teacup, and an assortment of mismatched blocks.

“Looks like you’ve got everything,” you said with a smile. “But don’t forget your sunscreen. We don’t want you turning into a little lobster.”

Anabelle giggled, squirming as you tapped her nose. “I’m not a lobster!”

“No,” you said, scooping her up and settling her on your hip, “you’re my silly little girl. Now let’s get going before the park gets too crowded.”

She squealed happily, wrapping her arms around your neck as you grabbed the two bags and headed for the door. The weight of the diaper bag felt familiar in your hand, its contents carefully chosen to ensure Anabelle’s comfort and happiness. Her green bag swung from your shoulder, much lighter but just as important to her.

As you stepped outside into the warm afternoon sun, Anabelle rested her head against your shoulder, clutching her bear tightly. “Daddy?” she murmured around her paci.

“Yes, princess?”

“Will you push me on the swings?”

You kissed the top of her head, smiling as you started toward the car. “Of course. Anything for my little girl.”

[regressionschool]

magic floaty boxes

The soft hum of fluorescent lights buzzed above as the elevator doors glided open with a pleasant ding. A bustling department store sprawled out on every floor, filled with the smells of perfume, coffee, and warm pretzels from the food court downstairs. People shuffled into the elevator, clutching shopping bags, lattes, strollers, and smartphones, their chatter a quiet background hum.

And right in the center of it all, stood Daddy and his Little.

She was dressed adorably in a sunshine-yellow romper with puffy sleeves, the hem barely brushing the tops of her thick, pastel-print diaper peeking out beneath. Her hair was done up in two neat pigtails, tied off with ribbons that matched her outfit. She clutched Daddy’s hand with one hand and held her favorite stuffie—Mr. Wibbles, a floppy-eared bunny—in the other. Every step she took was accompanied by a distinct crinkle-crinkle, her diaper padding making her waddle slightly, even as she bounced up and down on her heels with uncontainable excitement.

The elevator was already nearly full, but Daddy guided her gently in, murmuring, “Come on, sweet pea, let’s make some room.” She wiggled herself between a woman holding a shopping bag full of baby clothes and a grumpy-looking businessman on his phone.

As the doors slid shut, she gave Daddy’s hand a tight squeeze and suddenly chirped, in a voice far louder than anyone expected:

“I wuv elevators! They're like magic floaty boxes!”

Her enthusiasm echoed off the mirrored walls. Several people blinked. A woman stifled a chuckle. Someone in the back snorted quietly. The businessman’s phone call paused mid-sentence.

The Little bounced again, her diaper rustling loud and proud in the confined space, drawing even more curious glances. Unbothered and beaming with pure joy, she turned toward the strangers and declared:

“Guess what! I made potties in my pants right now!”

The man nearest the buttons choked audibly on his coffee, the lid nearly popping off from his startled grip. A teenage girl near the corner quickly turned her face away, shoulders shaking as she tried desperately not to burst into laughter. Her friend elbowed her with a whisper, “Shh! Stop it! It’s adorable…”

The Little just giggled, completely unaffected by the reactions, eyes wide with pride. She leaned up against Daddy’s leg, tugging gently on his sleeve.

Daddy, perfectly calm and unfazed by the announcement, ruffled her hair with a small, warm smile. “That’s why you wear your special pants, sweetheart,” he said gently, his voice the epitome of loving patience.

She beamed up at him as if he’d just declared her a princess. “Yup! I’m super good at using my diaper!” she said proudly, her little voice practically glowing. “I didn’t even try to hold it!”

Another crinkle echoed as she shifted her weight, clearly pleased with herself, the warmth of her soggy padding pressing softly against her. She gave a little bounce for emphasis, her diaper sagging slightly with each hop.

The elevator was silent but for the mechanical hum as it glided upward. Some passengers were frozen, uncertain where to look. Others stared openly, fascinated or amused. There was a kind of tension—awkward, confused, but undeniably curious.

Finally, a woman standing near the back, dressed in smart slacks and a lavender blouse, spoke up with a smile that cut through the quiet.

“Well, someone is clearly doing a wonderful job at being little,” she said warmly, looking from Daddy to the proud, bouncy girl.

Daddy turned slightly and offered a polite smile. “Thank you. She’s really embraced her role lately. We’ve been working on full regression for a while now, and she’s doing better than I ever hoped.”

The woman nodded approvingly, eyes twinkling. “You can tell. It takes a lot of dedication and care to guide someone so fully into that headspace. She’s lucky to have you.”

At that, the Little lit up even more, tugging on Daddy’s hand again. “Didja hear that? She says I’m lucky!” she said, puffing out her chest with a proud giggle. “I am lucky! Daddy even picks out all my clothes and changes my soggy pants so I don’t hafta think at all!”

There were a few surprised murmurs from the other passengers. A woman whispered something that sounded like, “Honestly? Goals,” before covering her mouth with a grin.

Daddy crouched slightly, eye-level with his Little. He gently tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and whispered, just loud enough for those nearby to hear, “You make me so proud, munchkin. Every day.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him for a tight, squishy hug, the audible squelch from her diaper drawing more than one raised eyebrow. Her grin was pure sunshine as she whispered back, “I made the whole thing warm just for you.”

Ding!

The elevator reached its destination with a cheerful chime, and the doors slid open again to the bright, busy second floor of the store—children’s apparel, toys, and furniture. It smelled faintly of baby powder and soft plush animals.

The Little didn’t wait. She squealed and skipped out with a joyful waddle, Mr. Wibbles flopping in her arm as she toddled gleefully into the store. Her diaper sagged a bit with each step, obvious and unashamed. She turned back toward the elevator and called out:

“Bye-bye floaty box! Fank you for the ride!”

The woman in the lavender blouse chuckled again. “You’ve done an amazing job,” she told Daddy one last time as he followed his gleeful Little into the store. “It’s so refreshing to see someone so confident in their dynamic. The world needs more Littles who can be this free.”

Daddy inclined his head with a grateful smile. “It’s not always easy, but watching her thrive? That makes everything worth it.”

As the doors began to close behind him, a final chorus of crinkle-crinkle drifted back from the toy aisle, followed by a joyful shout of, “Ooooh! Dinosaurs!”

The elevator descended, returning to its routine—though for a few of the passengers inside, something about that ride left a lingering sense of wonder, and maybe even a little envy.

After all… magic floaty boxes were pretty amazing.

[regressionschool]

You follow them back inside, your heart still fluttering in your chest, cheeks warm and tingling with excitement. The front door swings shut behind you, and it’s only once you're safely back in the house that your partner lets go of your belt loop with a playful tug.

“Ah-ah, don’t hide it now,” they tease. “You’re the one who waddled here in a soggy bottom.”

“I-I’m not that wet,” you mumble, cheeks going warm. You shift on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of the soft sag beneath your shorts.

“No? Let’s check.”

Before you can argue, their fingers slide down the back of your shorts, curling under the waistband of your diaper. A firm palm presses against the padded seat, giving you a confident little squeeze. You inhale sharply. The pressure makes the squish so much more real.

“Mmm,” they hum thoughtfully. “A little soggy, but not too bad.”

You swallow, face burning, but then they grin at you—mischievous, sweet, and just a little knowing.

“Still,” they add, “better to get you into a fresh one now, before we go for a ride. Wouldn’t want to have to do a change out in a parking lot again, would we?”

The memory of that very public parking-lot diaper change hits you like a jolt. Your whole face goes crimson. You cover it with both hands and groan.

“That was one time!”

“Uh-huh,” they smirk. “Come on, inside, baby. Let’s get you ready.”

Your diaper’s exposed now—faded stars and moons on the front, slightly swollen between your thighs. The press of it is so comforting, even if you’re blushing a thousand shades of pink.

You expect to be led to the changing mat on the floor, but instead they guide you straight to the couch, patting the cushions.

“Sit, baby.”

You do, and the squish beneath you is immediate—warm, mushy, and just barely damp enough to feel it. You shiver a little. Your partner leans in, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before slipping your shirt up and over your head.

“I’ll grab a fresh diapee and your shortalls,” they say, already halfway to the bedroom. “Be right back!”

You sit there obediently, in nothing but your used diaper, toes curling in the carpet. You can’t help but shift back and forth, the padding squishing noisily each time you move. By the time they come back with the fresh diaper and your clothes, you’re warm all over with anticipation.

“Let’s get this soggy one off ya,” they murmur, lowering you down. The tapes pop one by one. The cool air hits your skin and you let out a tiny breath, completely still as they wipe you clean with practiced care. The tapes peel off with four familiar pops—rip, rip, rip, rip—and your used diaper is folded neatly away, replaced with a thick, fresh one that smells faintly of baby lotion and chamomile. You squirm and shiver slightly as cool powder dusts over you, and the snug, crinkly pressure of the new diaper being taped up pulls a small, content sigh from your lips.

Next come the shortalls—light denim with little embroidered clouds near the hem—and your partner even braids your hair with gentle fingers, tying off the ends with soft pastel ribbons. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror: a blushing, babified version of yourself, standing in a fresh crinkly diaper under denim shortalls, hair braided neatly down either side of your head.

“I-I look like a toddler,” you murmur, heart pounding.

Your partner beams. “That’s ‘cause you are, silly goose.” They lean down and kiss your forehead. “My littlest passenger. Now go grab your car trip things while I pack your diaper bag.”

Your blush deepens. “I don’t need a diaper bag…”

But your partner is already rustling through the drawers—stuffing in a few extra diapers, a paci clipped to a string, wipes, powder, and—of course—a change of clothes “just in case.” You try to ignore the warm fizz in your tummy at the sound of the zipper being pulled shut.

Meanwhile, you toddle off to your room, picking out a soft, well-loved stuffy—your favorite one, with one floppy ear—and a picture book with thick pages and colorful farm animals. Perfect to keep you busy on the drive.

By the time you’re back, they’re already holding the diaper bag in one hand and jingling the car keys in the other. “Ready to go for a ride, little one?”

“Uh-huh!” you say, hugging your stuffy close.

Outside, the sun is warmer now, and the car glints softly in the light. Your partner opens the passenger door, and you stare at the seat again, heart racing with excitement. That harness. It looks even better up close. They guide you in gently, making sure your shortalls don’t bunch as you plop down into the seat. You squirm a little, your fresh diaper crinkling loudly as it meets the soft pressure of the cushion.

Then come the straps—first over your shoulders, pulled snug across your chest. Click. Then the lap straps, pulled from either side and joined together with a soft snap. And finally, the lower strap—pulled up between your legs and clipped in at the base, resting firmly against your thickly padded crotch.

You let out a tiny gasp at the feeling—the way it presses in gently, reminding you exactly how little you are, how protected.

Your partner crouches to check the straps, tightening them just a touch more.

“Snug?” they ask softly.

You nod, hugging your stuffy to your chest and flipping open the first page of your book.

They close the door with a soft thunk, and you’re alone for a moment—just you, your bunny, your book, and your new car seat. The straps hug you close, the sun warms your legs, and your diaper squishes ever so slightly as you shift.

And you smile.

Because you’ve never felt more babyish.

Or more loved.

"I got you something," says your partner, a glint in their eye.

"Oh?" Your curiosity is piqued. You've learned that something could be anything from a treat from the bakery to a humiliating new punishment.

"Close your eyes, take my hand."

You obey and reach out. Their hand is soft and warm in yours, fitting together perfectly, just like puzzle pieces.

The front door clicks open and your socked toes hit the scratchy door mat. The spring air outside is warm, finally. A dog across the street barks and the rumble of a truck goes by.

"We're going outside?"

"Uh-huh, almost there!"

You can tell you're in the driveway, the way the textured cement grips your socks. Your partner drops your hand and you hear the chirping of the car keys and the door open. What could they possibly have to show you in the car?

"Ta-da! Open your eyes!"

You open, and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the bright outside light. You gather your bearings and realize you are, in fact, in the driveway, facing the passenger side of the car. You gaze around, not quite sure what you're looking for. Squinting into the dim car you finally see it. The passenger seat has been fitted with two long straps coming from the top of the seat, just below the headrest. There's a set of conjoining plastic clips at shoulder height and a set of metal prongs further down. Another strap coming from the bottom rests on the seat, a receiving clip with two slots on the end. A bright red button sits in the middle.

A five point harness. Your partner installed a five point harness, just like the one on a toddler car seat, in the passenger seat of their car.

"F-for me?" you say, as if it could be for anyone else.

"Of course it's for you, silly! I want you to be as safe and comfy as possible in the car," they say with a grin. "Do you like it?"

You nod your head so fast you're almost dizzy. "Uh-huh!"

You like it. You really like it. In fact, you even feel a little excitement in your pants at the idea of being strapped in tight, lower clip up against your padded crotch, shoulders pressed back against the seat.

You duck your head and push forward to start to climb in. You want to try it now. Something stops you abruptly, though. Your partner has curled their fingers in one of your belt loops and is holding you back. The slight tug on your shorts reveals your diaper waist band, you can feel the breeze on your lower back. Normally you'd be scrambling to get your pants back up while outside, where anyone could drive or walk by. However, the allure of your new seat belt overpowers any embarrassment.

"Woah, woah!" they say.

"I wanna go somewhere!" You whine, instantly feeling a lot smaller than you did a few minutes ago.

"We can test it out, baby, but you need shoes first! Come one, let's go inside and get ready. Then we can take it for a test drive."

[regressionschool]

Happy April Fools!

Hope's Eternal Spring (Remastered)

My greatest and best story. No further introduction is needed.

*******

Hope clasped her résumé tightly in her hands as she approached the double-doors of the daycare, her heart pulsating inside her chest as she remembered those words in the paper. 

LITTLE ONES NEED CARE AND DISCIPLINE. PLEASE APPLY. 

Something had seemed strangely off about that job listing. There was no email and no business name, and the whole thing felt hastily strung together. And now, she was about to find out what it meant.

The building looked larger than any daycare she’d ever seen, particularly daunting for Hope’s diminutive five-foot frame. The nineteen-year-old attempted to collect herself, but a deep breath-in almost caused the top button of her blouse to burst, struggling as it already was to contain the girl’s supple breasts. And so she breathed out, adjusted her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, and stepped forward. 

It was a Saturday, and the center was empty except for a small, frazzled-looking woman at the front desk, who rose quickly to meet her visitor.

“You must be Hope,” she said breathlessly, struggling to keep several stacks of papers on her desk from flying away as she got up, “I’m Miss Chaucer, I run the place here, let me show you around.”

Hope simply nodded along and followed as the woman walked her through the building, spouting generic drivel about how the facilities were new and demanded careful upkeep. There were several rows of cribs, with sizes ranging from a small infant to a large toddler, two open areas for play, a kitchenette with a few snack cupboards, and several changing stations. The center seemed large, but it also struck Hope as rather normal, and so naturally she began to worry. 

“Any questions?” The woman finally stopped as she finished her tour, crossing arms on her chest as she leant against the wall behind. 

“Ummmmm…” Hope paused, her finger on her lip, looking for the right way to word her question, “so… this is all the rooms? Nothing… ummm… hidden?”

“Hidden? No, that’s all of them. Except the adult restroom, I guess? It’s to your right, behind you, if you want to take a look.”

Hope turned and managed to peer in, seeing what looked to be an ordinary restroom. 

“And we’re… umm… allowed to use it, while working?” Hope asked wishfully.    

At this, the overworked woman raised an eyebrow. “Well yes, of course. Why wouldn't you be?”

“Ummmm… I guess… uh…” Hope stammered and blushed, tapping her foot to the floor.

“Is this about the newspaper listing?” Miss Chaucer raised an eyebrow, “Oh, we’ve had a few people ask about that. Sorry if that was vague - we wanted to keep it simple for the old folks.”

“The old folks?”

“Yep. Same reason we didn’t put our email there. I mean, who else looks for jobs in the paper these days? Come to think of it, why did you?”

Hope blushed. “It just… ummm… it just caught my eye, I guess.”

“Ah. I suppose the all-caps will do that. But yes, just a normal daycare here.”

“Oh, ummm, okay, sorry, yeah, just trying to make sure…” Hope tried to brush off her earlier fluster, wincing at her own embarrassment only to be embarrassed further by her wince. 

“You sound disappointed,” the woman observed, “What- what exactly were you expecting?”

The girl’s blush returned and deepened, eyes widening as she fell into an awkward silence, looking for something to say to escape the situation. 

“I… uhhh… I think I should be going now,” she finally stammered. 

“I think that’s best.”

Hope scrambled away, whistling to herself, before finally calming down into a slow walk once she left the door. She tossed her résumé into a nearby can, and spent the next several hours meandering about town, trying to take her mind off of her strange interview. And take her mind off she did - she ran into a few friends at the mall, shopped for new skirts and tops, and enjoyed a burger with fries and soda, successfully finding distraction in the comfort.  

Before she knew it, the sun was setting, and Hope finally made her way back home. But when she entered the living room, she saw her mother waiting for her, arms folded sternly across her chest. 

“Sit down,” the older woman demanded, “we need to talk.”

Hope was unprepared for this, but she did as she was told, stepping backwards towards a loose dining seat at the edge of the room. She sat with her shoulders snug against her ample bosom - a feature she inherited from her mother, whose bosom was also ample. 

“Ummm, yeah, mom?”

“Well? Did you get the job?”

Hope paused. She had completely forgotten about the interview that started the day. 

“Oh… uh, no, I don’t think so.”

Her mother glared. “That’s it? ‘Oops, sorry, didn’t get it’? Hope, it’s been almost a year since you finished high school, and you’ve done nothing but shop at the mall with your posse of airheads” - she gestured towards the bags the girl had brought home - “and twiddle away at home on your InstaToks and FaceGrams.

“You’re almost twenty years old, Hope. I expected you to act like an adult. But so far, you’ve been acting more like…”

Hope’s eyes widened slightly, and she leaned forward in her chair. “Like what, mom?”

“Like a child, Hope. No, worse than that - like a baby. You’ve been acting like a baby!”

The girl gulped, her legs starting to shake excitedly. “So… so what are you gonna do about that?”

“Well, if you’re going to act like a baby,” the mother declared, “then I’m just going to have to… I’m just going to have to ground you!”

At once, Hope’s legs stopped shaking, and she let out a defeated sigh. “You’re… going to ground me?”

“That’s right, young lady! No malls, no little playdates, no social media for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, okay, cool. Going to my room now.” Hope grabbed her bags and headed upstairs, as her mother’s stern eyes continued to follow her. 

The girl gave another longing sigh as she entered the room, preparing herself for a dull night at home, when something very strange happened. 

As she tossed a bag of clothes towards her large bedroom mirror, the corner of the paper grazed the pane. But instead of knocking against glass, it seemed to create a ripple, a ripple that reverberated across the entire bottom half of the mirror before it all returned to its normal, smooth state. 

Hope rubbed eyes in disbelief, and then slowly approached the mirror herself. With fear, wonder, and excitement coursing through her, she inched her finger closer and closer to its reflection until, sure enough, it went in. 

Through the mirror, she could feel the tingle of a warm breeze, and could even hear the faint rustle of leaves from beyond the portal. Hope took a long, deep breath as she contemplated her next move, but the curiosity quickly became too much to bear, and the girl stepped forth. 

In an instant, she was transported to a lush rainforest paradise. Landing on the edge of a small pool of water, Hope took note of its strange ripple matching her own mirror’s, and wondered if she would ever take it as a route of return. 

On she went to explore! With the songs of birds surrounding her, she strolled along the dewy grass, her ripe melons dancing in the tropical wind. And then, she was struck by the greatest excitement of all, as she saw a large silhouette in the distance, perched beside a tall tree. 

It can’t be, she thought to herself. But it was. She was, standing majestically, towering close to eight feet tall, wearing a bronze breastplate and a simple loincloth.  

A giantess! And this giantess noticed the girl coming towards her, returning Hope’s look of wonder with one of her own, and kneeling down to get a closer look. 

“A… a small one?” the Amazon wondered aloud, her voice firm and commanding even in a whisper, “where did you come from, small one?”

Hope was overwhelmed by the moment, pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. “I… I… I came from another world, I guess,” she finally stammered. 

“Another world?” the giantess repeated, “Then it is truly a miracle that you have come. We Amazons need small ones like you.

“You are a curved one, I see,” she remarked, her large fingers hovering curiously over Hope’s pillowy bazonkas, “and yet, with your nimble, graceful form, you are perfect.”

“P-perfect for what?” Hope asked, her eyes welling with excitement as her mind raced across the world of possibility. 

“For everything, my dear -” the Amazon smiled, outlining the shape of Hope’s petite body with her hand, “for sneaking around undetected, for surveying terrain, for planting traps. You are our ideal tool for tactical reconnaissance against the 50-foot Robot Aardvarks.”

“The… what?” Hope blinked, the look of wonder washing immediately away from her face. 

“Those beasts,” the massive woman declared, “they have ravaged our plane for far too long. But that is going to change. Starting today, we will quiver in fear no longer. Starting today, we will stand and strike back. Sta-”

“Yeah, no.”

“What?”

“Sorry, can’t help you.” Hope was already turned around, walking back towards the portal she entered through. 

 The Amazon was in disbelief and despair. “But, please! Please, small one! You’re our only Hope! Get it!? Hope?” she cried out desperately, her words drowned out by the robot-aardvark eye-lasers bearing down upon the forest around her. 

Meanwhile, Hope was well into the woods, back at the small stream where her short journey began. With one more disappointed sigh, the girl covered her nose, closed her eyes, and plunged feet-first into the water. 

With a splash, she was back at home, glad to be done with the day. Drenched from the interdimensional dive, the girl took a long, hot shower. Then, after thinking about the things she had seen, she took another long, hot shower. 

Finally, Hope dried herself off, opened up a bag hidden under her bed, and took out a diaper to wear. After taping it on and tucking herself under her blanket, she went onto her phone and jumped to her favorite AB/DL erotica blog. And then, she masturbated. A lot. 

The End