Unfair- A Diaper Dimension Novel

by: Personalias | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 28, 2024

http://patreon.com/personalias Set in the Diaper Dimension, where Littles live under the constant threat of being adopted by Amazons and forcibly babied and mentally regressed. Clark is a Little who is doing pretty well for himself. He has a wife, a job, and a good home in a small town. All the trappings of adulthood that a Little could want. But as a teacher, his job is always walking a razor's edge for when Faculty and Staff might see him and think he deserves to go from teacher to less than a pre-k student. Read on to learn about Clark, his world and worldview, and how everything gets turned on its head.

Chapter 1
Chapter 102: Peer Pressure

Chapter Description: Clark must deal with a problem of his own making as well as one caused by his firing.

[Part 9: Shake-Up]

Chapter 102: Peer Pressure

Early Thursday morning, I walked into Beouf’s room feeling oddly empty. Normally, I’d use that term to mean something negative. Most people would. People don’t like the idea of ‘empty’; it implies that something that should be full is missing a vital component.  A hollow log is bereft of the tree’s life.  An empty cup lacks purpose until it’s filled.  You get the idea.

Empty can also mean that something bad has been removed. A wound can be emptied of puss, for example.  When you drink poison, the fastest way to purge it is to empty your stomach and puke it up.  Being empty can mean a fresh start.  That’s the kind of empty I  was feeling that morning walking side by side with Janet on the way to class.

I wasn’t neurotically looking for a trap.  I wasn’t bitterly planning one of my own. I wasn’t brooding on my own terrible circumstances.  And the absence of those base emotional states had nothing to do with being too exhausted or beaten down to do so.  Emotionally, a massive zit on my soul had popped and all of that irritating distracting pressure from it had gone with it. 

The weather that morning was warm enough that Janet had dressed me back in one of the plain toddler shorts and t-shirt that Beouf had gifted me.  I didn’t have pockets, and I would have preferred green- teal was not my color- but I didn’t feel a need to complain.  We were nearing the first official report card, a quarter of the way through the school year, yet I felt like I was at the start of something different, and not just trudging through another layer of the usual.

It felt like a different kind of first day.

Zoge opened the door for us.  Beouf was at her teacher’s desk. Ivy was on her hands and knees, rummaging through the toys in the class’s independent play area.  “Morning,” Beouf said. Her eyes were fastened to her computer screen.  “Happy Friday.”

“Happy Friday” Janet said back.  In teaching, the last day of the school week is effectively a Friday, and the first might as well be Monday.  Friday was the Fall Festival; technically a teacher work day but there are times where anything that isn’t direct routine academic instruction feels like a day off. Close enough. “Ready to go up?” 

“Just a sec,” Beouf replied. “I’m putting in a few more notes for progress reports.”

“I hear that.” Janet stifled a yawn.  “Gotta burn that midnight oil and get everything done for tomorrow.”

A feeling of great insecurity flashed over me.  “We’re still gonna hang out after school today, right, Mrs. Beouf?” Intellectually, I already knew the answer. Melony wouldn’t set up a plan and then cancel it the very next day.  Emotionally I needed to hear it again. I became aware of the subtle weight of my pacifier dangling from my shirt collar and ignored the itch in my lips. “Not that we have to. If you’re busy, you’re busy. I can respect that.”

“That’s very mature of you, Clark.”  I looked up and saw a tiny smile tugged at the corner of Janet’s mouth.  A sparkle of pride danced in her eyes. Relief permeated her voice.

Beouf finished clicking at her computer.  “Don’t worry, Clark.  I’m looking forward to it, too.”
Thank goodness. Thank. Fucking. Goodness.  I wished I’d had pockets so that I could do something with my hands. I settled for fiddling with the binky.

“Cool.” I didn’t feel cool.  My emptiness was quickly filling up with the strange tingly feeling of positive anticipation.  No question about it, I was looking forward to it.

My old friend, back from the grave as it were, strode up to us. “Before we go up…” she paused and looked down at me. “If you feel like you have to go potty, Clark. I want you to tell me or Mrs. Zoge. Okay?  Same if you need a diaper change.”


I felt completely wobbly. I was standing up yet felt like I’d just been smacked in the face with a pillow and put directly on my ass.  Any other day before this I would have immediately started searching for a trap. I’d instantly know in my heart of hearts that Beouf was trying to reverse engineer compliance or some other way to arrive at a predetermined conclusion.  Before this moment I would have started asking a questions and specifics, picking apart procedures, and looking for loopholes that both parties could potentially exploit.

“Okay,” I said.

Beouf spoke to Janet. “I’m not suggesting potty training, yet,” she said. “I just want to take a day or two to see where he is in terms of readiness.  Figure out where his plateau might be at this moment.”

If Janet was at all shocked or bothered, she didn’t show it. “Yeah,” she said. “I figured. I get it.” No more explanation required, evidently. “Ready?”


I watched them leave and turned my back to the classroom. I had the biggest, dopiest, toothiest grin on my face.  I wanted to throw back my head and crow. I wanted to pump my fists in the air and scream something stupid like ‘Booyah!” or ‘I’m back, baby!’.  I wanted to pound my feet in the ground and stomp in place or do a victory lap around the entire school.

Beouf was coming around. I was convincing her and she was very likely convincing Janet in turn. Our years of friendship were stronger than her madness and Amazonian pride. My skin tingled just thinking about it.

I suddenly began to imagine a world where I was allowed to wear non-absorbent underwear, again. I gave myself no illusions of ‘growing up’. Ever since Amazonian baby crazy had mutated to Maturosis over the more direct accusations of calling Littles immature and the more honest mindset of ‘because I want to’, Adopted Littles’ chances of being allowed to regain their independence went from slim to none. One couldn’t earn their way out of an incurable medical condition.

That harsh truth that I’d been living with most of my adult life didn’t dampen my excitement. A future without diapers was a wardrobe without tapes, fasteners, snaps, and buckles meant to be impervious to Little hands.  If I could take my clothes down to use a toilet, I could later take those clothes off and switch out to something less conspicuous.  So much was going according to plan and I hadn’t even planned this part.

Crinkling, plodding footsteps, caught my attention a second before impossibly strong arms grabbed me from behind.  “You’re doing it!”  Ivy cheered.”I’m so happy for you!”  The iron grip was released just as second later. “Sorry! I forgot. Please don’t bite me.”

Ivy took a step away from me and let me turn around to see her.  She was fiddling with the hem of her dress, and looking frightfully ashamed.  Shame was not something I expected to see on my classmate.  I was too happy to care that she’d touched me.

“It’s okay,” I said. “And thanks.”  My own brow furrowed when I processed what she’d said. “Why are you happy for me?”

“You’re growing up!” Ivy said. “Going potty! Turnin’ into a big kid!”

I blushed despite myself. The doll’s words were an infantile mirror of my own thoughts.  “Thanks.  You’re not mad or something?” If Ivy had been allowed this mercy I would have hated her for it.

The brainwashed Little’s lip pouted out. “Why would I be mad?”

I chewed on the sides of my tongue, unsure of how to phrase it. “Because I’m beating you at something?” I guessed. “I’m growing up.”

“Growing up isn’t something you do, it’s something that happens to you. Like birthdays” Ivy’s face was a blank mask; a child reciting their lessons. It even had the slight musical quality of Zoge. Little girl was reciting her Mommy.  Leave it to a Yamatoan to separate the concepts of birthdays with growing up.   Her eyes cleared. “I’m still better at you than lots of other stuff.”  She sneakily stuck out her tongue at me. That last part was all Ivy.

“Fair enough,” I laughed. I was in too good a mood to do anything else. 

Zoge grabbed the line leashes and pulled back Ivy’s diaper.  “Just checking,” she said.  She fastened the belt around Ivy’s waist and moved to me. Those same probing fingers did not attempt anything similar to me. No crotch squeezes, bum pats, leakguard slips, or waistband pulls.  All she said was, “Do you need to go potty?”

“No ma’am.”  It was so hard not to grin, but I managed.

The three of us walked up to the buses together, the same as always, but I might as well have been skipping on the inside. I couldn’t wait until after breakfast.

“What’s up, Gibson?” Billy elbowed me on the way to the cafeteria. “You look like you just got laid or something.”

Playfully, I elbowed him back. “Like you would know, dude.”

“I got a girlfriend,” Billy boasted. “Of course I know.”

“No he doesn’t,” Annie called over her shoulder two rows ahead. “He knows nothing. Nothing at all.”

The girls  all laughed and a full round of “OOOOOOOOH!” erupted from the boys. Passing grade schoolers turned their heads at the sheer volume of it.

“Boys and girls,” Mrs. Beouf warned. “The day’s just started. Let’s make good choices.”

We had a distinct marching order that morning. Boys in back. Girls in the front.  No lectures. No discernible reason. We just got worked out this way. I put even money Beouf and Zoge wouldn’t intentionally do this again.

“You guys fighting?” I asked Billy.

Billy flushed.  “She’s just in a ball busting mood or something. Probably on the rag or something.  We do it all the time.”

“Cumming in your pants doesn’t count,” I said just loud enough so neither teacher would hear. Jesse and Tommy stumbled a step trying to contain their laughter. Billy’s jaw wiggled back and forth while he unsuccessfully tried to think of a comeback.  I elbowed him back in the arm. “I’m just messing with you, dude.”

Billy relaxed. “I know, dude.”

I leaned in and whispered. “Can’t make it into your pants ‘cause of the leak guards, can it?”

My head bully boy reeled back. Angry but amused. “Whoah! Gibson! Low blow!”  He patted me on the back just hard enough to hurt.  “Funny! But, low blow.”

Chaz cracked up in his stroller and pawed between his legs. “Awwww dang it!” he crowed. “I thought I was gonna stay dry till Circle Time. Good one, Clark.”

“Since when do you stay dry that long?” Billy said. “You’re unpotty trained. Everybody is.”

Any attempt I would have made to contradict him would have been drowned out by the overhead blast fans as we toddled into the cafeteria. 

The conversation drifted to other topics at breakfast. We munched on handfuls of dry cereal and downed milk and juice. Zoge and Beouf opened food packages and did their best to directly coax us to act babyish or twist what we were doing into something that was inherently regressive. 

So you know.  The usual.

I busied myself tanking up on cafeteria milk and juice, hoping that it would race right through me.  After breakfast I intended to use the bathroom as an actual bathroom, and I wanted to make sure that I produced more than a few pathetic dribbles as proof.

“I’m not going to the fall festival,” Billy said. “I gotta go to a birthday party.”  He didn’t say whether it was a birthday party for an Adopted Little, or an Amazon kid, but there was no good answer either way. Best answer would be going to a drunken frat boy reunion because a sitter couldn’t be found.

“Bummer,” Chaz said. “I have to be a racecar driver. My Mommy and Daddy are adding a steering wheel to my stroller.”

“I’m gonna be an alligator,” Tommy offered.  “It’s convertible. You can look out the mouth or snap it shut and peek out the eyeballs.”

“Nobody asked, Tommy.” Billy snapped.

“Billy,” Zoge interrupted. “You can be nicer than that.”

“Yes ma’am,” Billy said.  “What about you, Gibson?”

“Of course Clark’s going,” Tommy said. “His Mommy works here. He has to.”

“Duh, Billy,” Chaz jumped in.

Zoge chose not to comment.  Everybody has their favorites, it seems.

Billy was having a rough morning. “But what costume do you have to wear?” 

I heard everything, but it took longer to realize that my gang was talking to me. My mind was firmly down in my pants, specifically my bladder. I was holding it for reasons beyond stubborn resistance, and very concerned about the state of my diaper. A single misstep could ruin this opportunity.


“Hm? What?”

“What is your Mommy gonna make you dress up as?”  Chaz repeated.

“Oh,” I said. “It’s a surprise.”

My boys all perked up with interest. “What kind of surprise?” Billy asked.

It turns out I was the one having a rough morning. I should have seen this response coming. “What do you mean?”

“Like your Mommy won’t tell you?” Chaz clarified, “Or…?”  he jerked his head backwards near the front of the cafeteria where Picture Day had taken place. “A different kind of surprise?” He coughed for emphasis.

As brutish and brash as Billy could be, he was quite capable of subtle manipulation and innuendo. “Is it a Mommy Grange surprise or a Gibson surprise?” We collectively held our breath, waiting for Zoge to react. She didn’t.

Damn. I’d accidentally put myself into a corner. I’d just thought what Janet had bought was kind of cool and worth a few laughs.  These guys were expecting Picture Day Part two.  “I’d rather not say,” I said. “Just in case.”

They all leaned back and nodded appreciatively. Bullet dodged. When nothing spectacular happened on Friday I could bullshit something about how I was just scared Janet was going to get something awful and embarrassing but I changed her mind at the last minute. Less lying than having to concoct a plan that wasn’t going to happen.

“What’s with you, dude?” Billy asked. “You seem kinda out of it.”

“Maybe he’s pooping,” Chaz teased. “He kinda looks like he’s pooping.”  Everyone at the table laughed.

Billy shouted over to the other table,  “Hey Mrs. B, how much longer? Clark pooped and needs an emergency change!” That got another round of laughs; the girls too. “I don’t think we’re gonna make it to Circle Time!”  Humiliation is funny as long as it isn’t you. 

“Is that true?” Zoge asked me calmly. “Did you go poopy already?”

“No ma’am,” I replied. “Billy’s just being Billy.”  I gave him a healthy dose of sideeye that did nothing to dampen his spirits.

“We’ll see when we get back to the room, just in case.” 

A strange sense of disquiet came over Billy and the others. I could see it on their faces.  Murmuring from the girls’ table told the same story.  Suspicion. Confusion. Zoge asked me directly about the state of my pants. She neither inspected me herself or assured Billy that I could wait to be changed.  Something about the way she said ‘already’, too.  She didn’t even use the word ‘change’.

Not that any of the assembled Littles actively picked up on these things. But when you’re used to hearing people talk as if you’re a baby, something as subtle as them talking like you’re a toddler capable of not shitting yourself sticks out.

Ivy just came out and said it.  “Clark didn’t poop!” She sounded mildly offended. “He’s getting potty trained!”

Every other Little looked like I’d just slapped them in the face.  Billy was thunderstruck. Chaz frowned, contemplating something.  Tommy was screaming at me inside his own head. Annie was exchanging looks with the other girls that screamed ‘I told you so’.

Ivy clapped for me.  “Yaaaaaaay, Clark!”

Breakfast wrapped up soon after.  People eat faster when they’re not talking; walk faster, too. We were unleashed at the door and went to our usual spots for Circle Time. I didn’t get the chance. “Come on, my love,” Mrs. Zoge said. She took my hand and walked with me to the bathroom.

We squeezed into the bathroom together as nine sets of eyes watched me like a hawk. I did my best to ignore them, too focused on the trial in front of me. What if I tensed up and couldn’t?  What if I got excited and let loose before the diaper was all the way off.  What if I’d forgotten how to aim?  I took a deep breath to chase out all of the paranoid scenarios that had refused to leave my brain up until then. 

“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

Zoge leaned out and closed the bathroom door for me. Would wonders never cease? I’d never thought I’d see the door close from the inside. “Just a second,” Zoge said. She lowered her knees in the space between the changing table and the opposite wall. There was no other space where she could reasonably fit. “I need to get down.”

I stood in front of the toilet, pursing my lips together in a thin line, and breathing through my nose.  “Take your time,” I said. Just had to keep cool.

“Face me, please.”  I turned ninety degrees. I hadn’t seen her this low since she literally bowed to me. “I need to get your diaper off first.”  I hadn’t thought to pull my pants down, so she did it for me. I silently cursed myself and hoped that it wouldn’t count against me. Not wanting to immediately drop trow better not be the thing that kept me in diapers. 

Zoge grabbed the front of my waistband and ripped the tapes off my Monkeez one by one.  The diaper practically wafted to the floor like a gentle leaf. The Yamatoan picked it up and examined it. It was bone dry.

“See?” I asked.

“Yes,” Zoge replied, neutrally. “Dry.”  More than dry. My cock, balls, and ass, were still coated with the powder Janet had used that morning.

It was awkward for a second. Not because I was naked from the waist down, Zoge had seen me naked more times than either of us could be bothered to count.  It was more like I was afraid to do anything that she didn’t explicitly instruct me to do, and she was hesitant to instruct. Ivy’s mom was much more comfortable changing diapers than helping people get out of them. I didn’t want to give her an excuse.

“Ready?” Zoge asked.


I didn’t expect her to pick me up and sit me on the toilet. It was the rare model that was sized for Littles and small children.  I wasn’t exactly surprised, though.  She scooted back.  “Okay,” she said. “You can-”

My own personal floodgates opened up instantly. The sound of liquid hitting liquid echoed around the tiny bathroom. Holding on had been the tricky party. Letting go was easy. I stared down at my penis and watched urine shoot out into the bowl beneath me.

I was peeing and not feeling instant wet heat surrounding my genitals!  No quiet hiss in my ear but a loud tinkle bouncing everywhere! My ass was cold from the seat!  It had been ages since my ass had been cold. A tiny eternity since I’d been allowed to sit down without a padded cushion beneath me.  (And no, baths don’t count)  I reached down between my legs and adjusted my angle. I was touching myself!

I was peeing! Not peeing my pants! Not wetting myself! Just peeing!

Euphoric. There’s no other word for it. There just isn’t. That freedom. That luxury. That unexpected bliss.  You never know how much you’ll miss something until it’s gone, and never love it more than when you get it back without asking.  

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” My cackles were loud enough to the already muffled voices of Mrs. Beouf and my classmates on the other side!

Zoge stood up and stepped back. “Whoah!” she said.

Between ten and twenty seconds later- I suddenly wished I’d counted-I was finished. “Done.” I said.

“Do you need to poop?”

Nine weeks ago, I would have been mortified if not furious at her for asking me this. Sitting in front of her, I took this as a major kindness on her part. Funny how things change. “Not right now.”

With the Yamatoan aide watching, I shook myself, ripped off a piece of toilet paper, dabbed for bonus points, stood up, and flushed.  Oh what a wonderful sound that toilet made! I’d have Janet pipe it through the monitor if I could.

“Very good,” Mrs. Zoge said. “Let’s get you dressed.” She took out a fresh diaper and laid it on the changing table.

I looked back down at myself, and the rumpled teal fabric gathered at my ankles. It was probably too much to ask that I be allowed to go commando. “I don’t suppose you have any training pants,” I said.

“No,” Zoge said simply. “Your Mommy hasn’t given us any.”

I pointed to the diaper I’d been wearing before on the floor. “Can’t I just wear that one?”

Zoge picked it up off the floor and pressed her thumb into one of the tapes. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t want them to come undone.”

I tried to keep my body language and voice as neutral as possible. “Okay. I’m ready.”

It was a long trip back up to the changing table. Hard looking at myself in that ceiling mirror. I tucked the pacifier under my arm so I wouldn’t have to look directly at it. The rest went as it usually did. 

Except for one small yet significant feeling detail. I saw Zoge reach for the bottle of baby powder.  She stopped herself, and did a double take at my naked lower half. “Don’t need it,” she told herself. 

“Nope,” I agreed. Not at all.

“I love you,” Zoge said after she’d finished yanking my shorts up.

“Thank you,” I replied. “You too.”  That still felt weird.

What was weirder was the looks I got upon walking out of the bathroom.  “Mandy,” Zoge called. “Your turn.”   Mandy trudged by me, her diaper bulging beneath her clothes. She might have been wet since the bus ride to school.

When she passed me, I heard a word I hadn’t in a while whispered.  “Helper.”

Oh no.

The timer went off and everyone sprang into action. Seats were abandoned and pushed in. Toys were put away. Games were cleaned up. Crayons were dumped in boxes. Worksheets were handed over. Books were shelved. Teachers were thanked. And as soon as those minor instances of upkeep were done, we all went to the schedule wall and took the next token off of our visual schedules.

It wasn’t organized chaos but the inverse. It was structure that appeared random from afar just because of the modicum of independence allowed to the actors. Center rotations when done right most resembled how ants scramble to repair and defend their nest after it’s been kicked over.  Everyone has their own individual job and route, but the ultimate objective is the same. 

It’s marvelous when done with children. Much less so with Littles.  Everyone knew their schedule.  Beouf hadn’t altered it in some time.  Any one of us could have rattled off their own particular rotation schedule.

Presently, it was snack time for the entire class.

“I hope it’s not animal crackers today,” Chaz said, reaching up and ripping off his token. Beouf had been kind enough to adjust his token board for a crawler. His strip ran left to right instead of top to bottom.

“Better than plain popcorn,” I groused.   We traveled together towards Beouf’s activity table. The rest of the A.L.L. had parked there, and two seats were left for us.

“Yeah,” Chaz agreed. “I’m sick of biting off the legs.”

“Why don’t you just bite off the heads first?”

“I’m just sick of eating body parts.”

“That’s fair.”

Annie pulled a chair out wide for Chaz to sit in.  “Help me up?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure.”  I extended my hand down and he reached up. We repeated the process.  I braced my arms and planted my feet so that Chaz could climb to his feet.  It wasn’t hard. Like with Amy it was more a matter of balance than anything.

A blunted sting registered in the bottom of my left ear.  “Ow!”  I released one of Chaz’s hands and instinctively swatted at my ear. The fuck had bit me? Billy pushed the chair right underneath Chaz and he dropped into it.


It was my right ear time. I slapped the side of my ear and barely noticed the movement on my left. “Mother ffff…Tommy!”

Tommy was just sitting down, himself, but played it casual as if he’d been at the table the whole time.  “Hm? What?” he asked.  “How can I help you?”

I roughly pulled my seat and sat down. “What the hell?” I growled. He’d slid into the farthest seat away from me, the bastard.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tommy said. “You okay?”

“Zoge,” Billy said.  We all sat straight up in our seats with our hands folded, like good Little boys and girls.  We remained that way until after she came by with paper towels to serve as napkins and placemats.

Soon after she’d turned her back… 


My right ear lit up again, and I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to stop from yelping in surprise.

“Annie,” I said. “What’s your problem?”  Annie looked vacant and spaced out, like she’d been zoning out all along.  She was the only person on my right, though.


The sound of Chaz’s finger just barely missing my left lobe still registered a booming shockwave in my eardrum.  “Chaz!”


“B!” Tommy said.  We all resumed the position. I ignored my throbbing ears.  Whatever this was- and it was something- the rules of engagement meant no Amazons allowed.

As if pre-ordained, Beouf shook out a handful of bland non-buttered, unsalted, room temperature popcorn. It was the kind that was sold pre-popped in potato chip bags. I don’t have the data to back this up, but I feel like those kind of snacks are violations of some sort.  This must have been some kind of karmic balance for not having to pee my pants this morning.

“Eat up,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” we answered in unison.  No one made a move to eat it. Besides this stuff being the Mark Horsey McDoucheface of snacks, we clearly had more important things to hash out as a group.

Beouf didn’t leave us, though. “I’ve got checks and changes today,” she told Zoge. Then she remembered, “Clark, do you have to go potty?”

Big mistake, Mel. Big mistake. Four other Littles were staring at me with murder in their hearts.  “I’m fine,” I said.

“Are you sure?” Beouf asked. “You haven’t gone in a while. It’s okay if you’ve had an accident. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Yeah Clark,” Billy echoed. “It’s okay if you have an accident.”

That’s what this was all about. Jealousy. Stupid green eyed jealousy.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Okay…”  Beouf sensed the lie, but not the cause. She leaned over and scooped up Chaz.  “Come on, Chaz.  I can smell you from here.”  She started carrying him away.

“It’s not me!” Chaz whined.

Beouf laughed.  “Your seams are about to burst, darlin’. If it’s not you…”  The rest of her remark got drowned out by distance.

No matter.  I leaned forward towards the center of the table, and the others joined me. “What the hell, guys?”


“Goddamnit, Annie! Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Or else what?” Tommy broke in. “You’ll tell on us? Like a baby?”

“It’d add up,” Annie said.

“Helper’s can’t help it,” Billy spat.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about.”

“Naw,” Annie talked over me, “I think he’s goin Full Native. Ivy’s got a new best friend.”

“Oh fuck you,” I swore. The image of me slapping the shit out of Annie flashed across my mind’s eye.  Comparing me to Ivy? Them’s fightin’ words.  “You’re just jealous.”  My hand shot up and blocked Billy’s salvo.  He was farther away from me and I was ready.

“”I don’t know,” Billy said. “You spent almost all day Tuesday hanging out with Beouf. Yesterday you were awfully chummy with her.”

“I toldja,” Tommy said. “I saw him crying with her on the playground.”

Billy popped in a stale piece of popcorn. “Now you’re getting potty privileges back?” He took a swig from his bottle, likely regretting that one decision. “She broke you dude. You sold out.”

Tommy copied Billy’s body language note for note. “Teacher’s pet.”

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

“You gotta admit,” Annie said. “It’s not a good look.”

“It’s not suspicious,” I said. “I’ve just tricked her. I broke her.”


Fuck. Goddamn it.  Motherfucker. I couldn’t tell them the truth and my brain was coming up with no other plausible lies. “I…I…I…”

“Knew it,” Billy said. “You gave up. You sold out.  Like Taylor.  Are you in Pull-Ups? Pull down your pants.”

That worthless lie about a Little I barely remembered was biting me in the ass full force. My entire pitch to getting the others on my side was that any sign of added privileges was proof of compliance to our oppressors. How was I supposed to know Beouf would actually treat Maturosis as a science and want to replicate an experiment.

Beouf came back with Chaz reeking of baby powder.  All of us were sucking on pacifiers when she looked.  She pointed at the small piles of popcorn. “Not hungry?”  We shook our heads. “Alright, but I don’t want to hear you complaining if your tummies start growling before lunch.”

Tommy popped his pacifier out.  “We won’t.” 

“Okay then. That’s your choice.”  She quickly checked everyone at the table. No one else was found messy or ‘wet enough’ to merit a change.

Except for me.  I wasn’t checked at all.  I was asked. “Are you sure you don’t need to go potty?”  I nodded. Then I shook my head. “Use your words.”

I took the pacifier out.  “I’m sure, ma’am.  Maybe later.”  I really could have gone just then, but taking Mel up on her offer would have been a bad look right then.

She didn’t believe me but was sticking to her guns. “Okay…” 

“What’d I miss?” Chaz asked.

“Clark’s a Helper,” Billy said.

“He’s broken,” Annie said.

“He’s a hypocrite,” said Tommy.

Okay, Tommy was right.  Still…  “I just figured it out,”  I said. “I’m tricking her into giving me a chance and letting me grow up.” It felt dirty just saying that about her.  It would have been real nice to hate Beouf right about then. “Give me time and I can get her to give you guys…” I was loathe to finish a promise I knew I couldn’t keep.

“It’s not about growing up,” Chaz said. “They’re never going to let us grow up. We can’t grow up because we’re already adults.” As he spoke there was a fire in Chaz’s eyes the likes of which I’d never seen. ”It’s about making it difficult for them. It’s about turning their rules against them. Doing ‘yes and’ stuff, and making them cry as much as they make us cry.  It’s about getting even because we’re never gonna get ahead.”

“I said that,” I sighed.

“Or someone who looks like you.”

I’d created a monster. Four of them to be precise.  And I couldn’t control them unless they thought I was one of them. They’d make my school days torture if they thought I’d gone soft. I’d certainly given them enough tips.  Telling on them and weaponizing Beouf to make them stop would feel dirty. That would make me feel like a sellout.  I’d be like Ivy, or how I’d imagined Taylor because I really would have known better.  I could openly be friends with Melony Beouf, or I could be the plotter of the playground.  Not both.  At least I’d have my afternoons.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

I tensed when Annie put her hand on my shoulder. I half expected another annoying flick. “Nothing.”


“Nothing.” Annie repeated.  The others silently conferred and agreed.  They’d found a way to gossip and confer before snack time. Not all that impossible. I’d done a poor job of masking my feelings. They all rode the same cheese wagon back and forth to school.  Conversation and plotting are easy to do quietly in short bursts. Super easy if all involved have made up their mind in advance.

If they were taller I’d say they were acting very typical, but that wouldn’t be fair to them regardless.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Chaz said. “Hang out with some of the others.”

“Like the other babies,” Tommy said. “You might like it better.” Billy maintained eye contact with me, but reached back and gave Tommy a fist bump. My status in my own pecking order was greatly reduced indeed.

“You want proof?” I said. “Fine. Give me a second.”  I slugged back some water and relaxed my bladder.  It was easy. Like my body was almost happy to have the familiar sensation back.  I stuck the pacifier back in and bit down. I leaned forward on the table and raised my rump off the chair.  Pooping was more difficult, but not nearly difficult enough. By my own estimation I could have probably held this load in for the rest of the day and gotten it out just before bath time. Whatever Janet was feeding me was greasing my guts enough so that I didn’t have to sweat.

I filled my pants up in less than a minute. Peed a little more, too. A kind of inertia and muscle memory just took over. It wasn’t a helpless feeling. I had to actively push most of the way.  It was a choice.  That made it worse.  I groaned into the pacifier when I’d finally emptied myself and sat back down, smooshing the solid mass entirely.

“You gonna ask to get changed?” Tommy asked.

I stared dead ahead at Beouf’s empty seat. “Nuh-uh. Don’t want to make it convenient for them.”

“Attaboy,” Billy said.  He reached over past Chaz and lightly clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of ya.”

We’d razzed Tommy for walking around in a dirty diaper. Said he was too babyish and mindfucked. Now me doing the same thing was a sign of loyalty and commitment to sticking it to the man. 

The Adult Little League was never about that. It was about dragging people down to our level. Down to my level.

“Snack time’s over,” Beouf announced. “Go check your schedule.”

It was Ivy who called me out for having stinky pants. Fucking Ivy. When the most mindfucked Little in the school if not the town is the one getting you busted for messing your Monkeez, that’s a new low.  I’d normally question what I’d done to deserve this, but for once I knew the answer.


Janet walked with us back from the buses.  She was carrying me so that the two giantesses could speedwalk.  “How was he?”

“He was great,” Beouf said. “Really good day.”

“What about the potty?”  Janet likely saw the answer in my face before Beouf gave it.

Beouf shrugged. “He went first thing after breakfast. Mrs. Zoge said he started going the second she sat him down.  It’s a common enough reflex.”


“Yeah. One year olds can do it. Especially boys. Penis plus open air, plus full bladder and boom. If you time it right it’ll save you a diaper first thing in the morning. Keep him dry longer.”  Leave it to Beouf to know enough random trivia so she could chalk up success in one scenario as coincidence and a statistical outlier as concrete proof. 

Janet waited for Beouf to hold open her classroom door. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“No buts,” Beouf said. “It’s about what I thought it would be. He showed no interest whatsoever the rest of the day. Said no every time we asked him, even when he had an accident.”

Janet failed to hide how much she liked what she was hearing. She sat me down in my usual chair at the table. “Didn’t know, or didn’t care?”

Beouf got out an empty bottle and mug and started mixing up the coffee. “Maybe a bit of both. Only went when we made him and timed it right. Every other time he didn’t produce anything or it was already out of him.”   Melony was the kind of person who would have bet on professional wrestling. 

“Good,” Janet said. “To know, I mean. Good to know.”

“But that’s okay,” Beouf’s voice shot up to motherese levels of cutesy squeak. “Just meant he was busy doing more important stuff. Like learnin’ and playin’.”  I buried my face in my hands. Just let this day be over.  “Sorry, bud,” Melony said in her normal voice. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”
“You’re fine.”  A lie, but one meant to keep the fragile peace. I’d done a lot of that already.

Janet gave me a kiss on the top of my head.  “I’ll let you two hang out. I’ve gotta go prep for tomorrow.”

“No problem,” Beouf said. “Take your time. I’ll be here till four.” 

Janet left, Beouf handed me my bottle of watered down sugared up coffee, poured herself a mug of black, and we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.


She took a sip of hers. “Clark.”

I pulled from my bottle. “Melony.”

“Anything you want to talk about, friend?”

“Does it have to be about today?”

My friend took another sip. “Nope. School’s not in session. Your Mommy’s not here. This isn’t a conference. I’m off the clock.”

“Your workday doesn’t end for at least forty-five minutes,” I told her, “and you’re still liable for anything that happens to me until my Mommy or somebody else relieves you of custody.”

“You know what I mean,” Beouf said. She pantomimed backhanding me. “Booger.”

“Oh no,” I said, “I took your words and used them against you. Oh shock of shocks.”

Beouf slammed down her mug and looked like she was on the verge of doing a spit take. I took another sip from my bottle, playing coy.  It’s harder to sarcastically sip from a container with a rubber nipple on top than it is from a coffee mug.

“I missed this,” Melony said. “I really did.”

“Me too,” I admitted.

“Thank you for letting me be your teacher,” she said. “Thank you for letting me be your friend again.”

My first instinct was to parrot her sentiment and thank her for being my teacher.  That would have been a lie, though, so I went with “You’re welcome”.  We sat for several more minutes of amicable silence.

In the silence I realized that I had to pee again. Not a lot. Just enough to notice. Very holdable. Why bother, though?  I was about to relax and then I realized… “Would you mind taking me to the bathroom?”

A flash of annoyance crossed Melony’s face. “Clark, I love you. Please don’t start.”

“What are you talking about?” I was genuinely confused. “Start what?”

“Every time somebody points out something about your behavior, you stubbornly lean the other way or try to start a fight. You only try to be an adult when you think somebody’s calling you a baby.”

Blasphemy! Total bullshit! More typical Amazon baby-crazy.  “Like when?”  There was an unintended edge to my voice. I couldn’t help it.

“Using your pacifier,” she said. “You had no problems soothing with it until me and your Mommy pointed it out.  Saw you using it today.”

That was just one time.  “What else?”

“Playing with friends. Having someone help feed you. Drinking from a bottle. Potty training. Calling Janet your Mommy.  Everything, bubba. Literally everything.”  That response came way too quick to be just off the top of her head.

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. This has something to do with my Maturosis? Only babies care about not being babies so therefore I’m regressing?”

“Nope,” Melony said.  “Just you. You’ve always hated it when people call you out. Like you think that people knowing you makes you vulnerable.”  She pointed to my right. “You moved your bottle to the side as soon as I brought it up, by the way.”

I turned my head left, racking my brain for a counter argument. Why wasn’t I good at this today?

My oldest remaining friend reached across the table and laid her hand over mine.  “Hey,” she said softly. “That’s why it means so much to me that you let me in.  Twice, now. I don’t want to fight.”

“Me neither,” I muttered.

“Don’t be worried. Everything will be okay. Let’s just take this slow.”

The toilet thing or our friendship or this school year, I wondered. “Take what slow?”

“Everything.  We’ve got time.”  As far as she was concerned that was true.
I was never going to be allowed to use that toilet ever again.  Oh well.  One less dry diaper that day.  “Okay.”

We both took a few deep breaths and a couple shallow sips.  “Got a costume picked out for tomorrow?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Melony looked concerned in the same way my peers looked excited. “What kind of surprise?”

The back door flung open with such force that it thundered against the rubber stop. I expected Ambrose but lowered my gaze when Tracy marched in. ‘Marched’ is the wrong word for how my Tweener friend moved. ‘Marched’ has an image of strength with shoulders back and held up high.  Tracy moved like a marionette with half of its strings missing, all bent over and broken.

Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were pink. Her face was red. Her cheeks were wet and snot was bubbling up from her nostrils. “I CAN’T DO IT!” she wailed. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” She sat down right next to me and folded her arms and buried her head in them. It was like she couldn’t see me. “I QUIT, MEL! I FUCKING QUIT! THEY WIN! I QUIT!”

Beouf slid out of her seat and quick stepped over to the back door, quietly closing it.  “What happened, hon?”

My assistant picked her head up. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

“Take what?”” I asked.

Tracy stopped crying. Looked at me. Blinked. And then started crying all over again.

I looked to Beouf for answers. “Take what?”
“It’s complicated,” Beouf said.

“It’s bullshit!” Tracy banged her fist on the table. “BULLSHIT!”

Beouf grabbed a box of tissues from her desk and placed them in Tracy’s reach. She started trying to softly rub Tracy’s back, but Tracy shrugged her hand away.

“What?” I repeated myself.

“This is a school thing,” the Amazon said. “A faculty thing. A gr…It’s nobody’s business unless Miss Tracy wants to tell it.”

“THEY’RE TRYING TO GET ME ADOPTED!” Tracy bawled. “THEY’RE TRYING TO KICK ME OUT.”  Tissues started flying and Tracy’s nose was doing a solid impression of a flock of geese.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.  “They can’t do that.”

Melony took off her glasses and started rubbing her temples. “Unfortunately they can.”

“Who is they?”  I knew the answer as soon as I finished asking.

Tracy looked away from me. “Ambrose and Brollish.” She was still razor thin close to breaking down again.

I was irate enough for all three of us. “WHAT?!”

Beouf waited for Tracy to give her the okay.  “Tracy got reprimanded for coming here last week.”

“When you were in timeout,” Tracy said.

“When Mrs. Zoge interrupted and saved me.”  I liked where this was going even less.

“They’re framing it as disobedience and wandering off due to Maturosis flaring up.” Beouf said. “It’s not as common in Tweeners, but it’s not unheard of.”

“Mrs. B,” I said. “Not. Helping.”  Beouf actually looked ashamed for once.  “Okay. This sucks, but we can fix it. Just everybody start cleaning and be on the lookout for planted evidence, right?”
Tracy buried her face in her arms again and shook her head. “They’re trying something different this time,” Beouf explained.  She nudged Tracy. “Tracy?”

My assistant sniffed and dabbed at her face with a fresh tissue. “They’re doing a longer con. Saying how anybody can fake being an adult for one day.” I winced at what had to be a parting jab at me. “I thought Brollish was on my side for a second, because she didn’t want me getting changed in front of our kids, and reamed her out in front of me for this stupid trick she tried to pull with trick paper; but she was really just looking for something I couldn’t get out of.”

Against my more sensitive judgment I said the quiet part out loud. “Like the diaper they had you wear last Wednesday?”

“And Thursday,” Tracy said. “And Friday. And Monday. And TUESDAY. AND WEDNESDAY. AND TODAY!”  She was struggling not to break down into a ball of snot and tear again. She was losing, too.  “I have to show up early,” she squeaked. “Then let Brollish put a diaper on me in her office. Work all day. And if I have even one accident, a tiny dribble, then that’s proof. BUT I’M NOT ALLOWED TO TAKE THE DIAPER OFF TO GO TO THE FRIGGIN’ BATHROOM!”

“I thought the deal was you had to stay dry at school for a week,” Beouf said. “It’s been a week.”

Tracy laughed. It was a terrible bitter thing that just barely masked her wailing.  “Brollish did say a week. But she didn’t say what kind of a week!” More crazy laughter laced with sorrow followed. “On Tuesday, she told me that last week didn’t count; that it had to be a full school week.  And guess who isn’t scheduled to work the Fall Festival?! This gal!”

“Oh no…” I gasped.

“And my period is due in a couple days,” Tracy rambled, “so Brollish might not count that for all I know! If we have an early dismissal day, or if I have a doctor’s appointment, that whole week won’t count.”  She giggled, “And the best part? I just went back to our room to get my backpack from behind Ambrose’s desk because that bitch won’t let me store my own stuff…and guess what I found?”

I didn’t want to know.  Beouf saved me the trouble of asking. “What?”

“An email left open on Ambrose’s computer. They’re talking about ways to cut my hours!“

I felt completely empty in that moment. The bad kind. “There’s gotta be a way around this. Can’t the Union help?”

“I’ve been talking it over with other reps,” Beouf told me. “It’s possible, but those maturity clauses are tough. We’d have to go to court.”

“Then take Brollish to court!”

“Not Brollish, hon. The school board.  Principals are technically just middle management.  We’d have to prove this test is a violation of contract or that the clause needs to be amended. That takes time.”

Tracy stood up. “I don’t have time, Melony! I’m miserable! They’re just gonna keep turning up the heat.”

“What about your husband?” I asked.  “Can’t he just adopt you.”  I was grasping at straws.

“That’s not the point.”

“She couldn’t work in education,” Beouf clarified. “Couldn’t work in a lot of places. Nothing that needs a degree or does more than part time.”

Tracy motioned to Beouf.  “Exactly. So I might as well quit. That way I can get a new job.”

This couldn’t be happening. It just couldn’t.  Right as I was starting to get my old friends back, they were being forced to leave me. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair, but this was worse. This was fucking rigged.  

Why wasn’t I allowed to be just a little bit happy? Just for a second?!  Why couldn’t the fucking universe let me have this one win!  Why?




“No.” I said.  “No. You can’t.  You can’t do this. What about the kids?”  What about us? What about me?  Best to leave those parts unsaid.

Tracy looked like her heart was about to explode just looking at me.  “I’m sorry, Boss. I just can’t.”

I stood up and kicked the chair over. I didn’t care if it could be written off as a temper tantrum. “It’s not right! You saved me! You saved me and now you’re being punished for it! Because I was a jackass!”

“Honey,” Melony said. “It’s not your fault. Nobody blames you.”

“It doesn’t matter if nobody blames me! I’m still to blame!”  I threw myself up against Tracy hugged her as hard as I could. 

“Boss…” She whispered, petting my head like the scared puppy dog I felt like. If only I could have taken a dump in Ambrose’s slippers… “I’m sorry.”

“Give it a couple days,” I begged her.  “A week. Just next week.  Give us time to think of something.  Give me time.  I’ll find a way.  I’ll think of something.”

She was crying again.  We both were. All three of us.  If Janet and Zoge had been there they’d have cried too.  “How?”

“I’ll find a way. I promise.”  That was Clark for “I have no idea.”



End Chapter 1

Unfair- A Diaper Dimension Novel

by: Personalias | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 28, 2024


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