Babe Academy Chapter Twelve

Tough to believe we're almost halfway through February already. I'm already a bit behind, so look for anotherstory update towards the end of the week.

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Most of the new teachers at the school had been carefully selected by the Headmistress and Dr. Waxler. In most cases, they were women whom they were previously acquainted with, and were known to be ‘sympathetic’ to their goals, and more than willing to play along with the program (especially if they got to take advantage of the situation themselves.)

     But there was no way they could possibly fill every position on the staff with a known, friendly asset, and so it was up to the Doctor to compile a psychological profile and a list of questions designed to determine if the subject of the interview possessed the qualities they were looking for. With these two documents, they interviewed a list of applicants for every position, carefully selecting the candidates that lined up best with the Doctor’s profile. The process had largely been a swimming success, with nearly every position in the school filled with a lecherous, unscrupulous woman who, if they didn’t enjoy dominating and humiliating their sexy young students, then at least they were devoted enough to their jobs to change the occasional dirty diaper in class without complaining too much.

     But no system is fool-proof, and it was inevitable that the Doctor’s process would have at least one flaw... and that flaw’s name was Ms. Holly Brewer.

    Beautiful and blonde, she was only a few years older than the girls in her charge and in fact she’d had only one job prior to starting at St. Babette’s.  Unlike most of her colleagues, Ms. Brewer was neither amused or aroused by her diapered students. Indeed, when her students began showing up in class wearing pampers beneath their short, pleated skirts,  Holly had been aghast and appalled... not only was it shameful that a group of college-age young women could go this long being apparently totally un-potty trained, it was almost surely a health violation to have so may potential wet and messy pampers in an enclosed classroom.  

     Then the so-called sissy babies began arriving from the detention center; childish, emotionally fragile, intellectually stunted, and as incontinent as an 18 month old toddler, Holly instantly grew frustrated with her new charges, deciding quickly that they had no place in an adult level classroom... concerns she had shared with both the Headmistress and the Doctor on more than one occasion.

     The thing Holly quickly grew to hate the most about her new job was the diaper changes. It was embarrassing having to take a girl just a few years younger than herself up to the changing table at the front of the classroom, located in the corner just a few steps away from her own desk, lay her charge out on her back,  remove the (always pissy, often poopy) diaper and drop it in the nearby diaper pail, then wipe and powder her butt and pussy. At last, she’d be taped into a fresh diaper and returned to her seat as though nothing had happened. Fully trained and accredited as she was to educate at the university level, Ms. Brewer saw changing diapers as far beneath her station... If I wanted to change diapers, I’d be teaching in a preschool, she often thought miserably, washing her hands in the sink in the corner of the room following a particularly nasty change.

     To her confusion, few of her other colleagues seemed to mind, and indeed, some even seemed to relish everything about the situation. After a while, she noticed some of the other members of the staff were gazing upon their diapered students with an intensity that seemed to go above and beyond a general concern for the student’s well-being. Holly was beginning to feel isolated, even among her peers.

     But the money was fantastic... far more than she’d be making almost anywhere else. She tried to think of herself as fortunate, tried to think of her very generous salary every time she had to wipe some squirming brat’s poopy backside.

Things finally came to a head near the end of Ms. Brewer’s first semester at St. Babette’s Academy. The semester has started off well enough-- oh, certainly the students were bratty, lazy, and sarcastic, and the atmosphere of the academy itself was strange and growing stranger by the day... but it was easy for her to think of the money and put all that out of her head.

     But then the students released from the detention center started being re-integrated with the rest of the students... and that was where the trouble started.

     The new Little Sisters, or ‘sissies’, as the other students referred to them, were simple minded, diaper wearing toddlers in the bodies of grown women. Even students Holly had previously taught, who had performed at least at a functional level, no longer seemed suited for any lesson beyond what you might find in a kindergarten.  

     They were immature, often giggling and simpering all the way through class, occasionally bursting into tears over minor insults or discomforts.  

     Even worse was their lack of control over their bodily functions. Frequently, one of them would belch or fart out loud in the middle of the lesson, totally disrupting class... especially when the rest of the sissies started laughing, overwhelmed by their childish love of immature toilet humour.  

     Then, there were the diaper changes. It never failed, especially during work periods, that one of of them would shyly approach her desk and ask, in a small and childish lisp, if teacher could please change her soggy diaper.

     But worst of all, by far, were the dirty diapers. Ms. Brewer dreaded the days when one of her students would lose control of her bowels during her class. Not only was wiping another woman’s messy butt disgusting, smelly work, Holly frequently felt like it was even more humiliating for her than it was to the brat with the loaded diaper. She was, after all, a professional, well trained and educated in her field. To Holly lifting one of her moronic students’ legs high into the air over the changing table so she could carefully clean off her buttocks and slip a new pamper under her wriggling bum reduced her from a trained professional to the level of a high-school babysitter.

     And then, Kayla was released from the detention center and assigned to her class. Of course, all the girls who went through the academy’s discipline program came out simpering diaper babies... but Kayla was a sissy among sissies, a lisping little crybaby, her intellect dull even by the standards of her fellow regressees, she vexed Ms. Brewer constantly with her continual disruptions, typically in either the form of bursting into tears at random, passing gas, or constantly bugging Holly for soggy diaper changes.

     But all of that was nothing compared to her messy diapers. A minimum of once a week, usually in one of her after lunch periods, Holly was treated to a major, explosive mess from Kayla... a loud, stinky load in the seat of her big girl diapers that both rudely interrupted the lesson and instantly stunk-up the room, forcing the students to fan their faces, pinch their dainty noses shut, and complain loudly about the rapidly worsening stench.

     With her frustration building on multiple levels, it was only a matter of time before Ms. Brewer was pushed past her limit.  

     It finally came one ordinary Tuesday, in the period directly after lunch. Poor Kayla’s tummy had been upset for a couple of days, making her already delicate bowels even more sensitive than usual. Making the situation even more volatile was the beans ‘n’ weenies the girls had been served for lunch-- a recipe for a highly flatulent afternoon at the best of times, but in Kayla’s delicate position... the prelude for disaster.

     “So then-- the price ceiling,” Ms. Brewer lectured from her notes, “is the maximum price a seller is allowed to charge for a product or service. On the other side of things, we find the price floor, which...”

     A long, greasy, bubbly farting sound emerged from the middle of the class, prompting a course of grossed out moans from the students. 

     “Girls, please!” Ms. Brewer scolded pompously, attempting to restore order. “Now then: as I was saying, the price floor is defined as the lowest legal price a product or service can be sold at...”

     A long, flatulent noise emitted once more from the crowd of students, like the croak of a gigantic frog, disrupting the lesson once more. This time there were titters and giggles among the groans of displeasure, and almost everyone was reacting to the noise or the emerging stink... all except for Kayla, who sat very still, her cheeks a distinctly rosy hue.

     “Who’s doing that?! Chelsea? Sierra?” Ms. Brewer accused, receiving only protests of innocence in response. “One more outburst like that and there’s going to be trouble,” she warned, returning to her lesson. “Now: as I was saying...”

     Near the back of the class, Kayla was beginning to sweat. She knew she was already on Ms. Brewer’s bad side, and she desperately didn’t want to run afoul of her... especially since she’d developed a schoolgirl crush on the woman. She very much wanted to please her teacher, and dreaded the prospect of angering her once more.

      But the insistent bubbling in her middle, hot, crampy and painful, quickly pushed her self-control to it’s limits. She sweated, her colon spasming as it filled. With a small gasp, she felt her resolve weaken for the final time, her delicate little asshole dilating of it’s own accord, her buttocks parting without her permission to allow a copious amount of gas and mush to come burbling out with a farty squelching. Kayla gasped, her cheeks, reddening, the muddy pile of poop in her diaper all hot and gooey against her bottom... but there was more to come.