#kippy

A discussion class ran by a TA.

A group of students taking a test.

An empty room.

A locked door.

9:59 am.

You're so screwed.

You try and steady your breath as you reach the next door. You can tell the lights are on through the opaque glass window. A gentle mummer of voices sounds almost like the sound of students waiting for class to start.

But, is that also the sound of soft crying coming from the room?

I guess Professor Haverford does have his reputation for a reason, you think to yourself. This has to be the right room.

You readjust your clothes in an attempt to look a little less disheveled before turning the door knob and stepping inside.

Perfect, you tell yourself, right on time.

Your sense of relief drains away quickly though, as you step through the door into a world you were not expecting.

Bright fluorescent overhead lights light a room full of bright colors and simple shapes. The room is mostly open, free from the desks of the other rooms you've seen in the building.

But, the room is not completely free of furniture.

A line of giant highchairs stand pushed up against one wall, out of the way for later use.

Three large cribs are lined up in a corner, large mobiles dangling over railings that had to be 6 feet high.

In another corner, what could only be described as the largest baby bounce you have ever seen, sits occupied by a young woman, maybe 22-years-old, with her hair done up in pigtails, bouncing and giggling while drool dribbles down her chin like an overgrown infant.

The grown woman's odd behavior draws your attention to the other occupants of the room.

There are other students your age, dressed in the standard outfits you would expect of any college student. Jeans, t-shirts, skirts and hoodies. Those students are clearly being supervised by who you can only assume are professors, a couple of older woman who, despite teaching in a university, give off strong daycare provider vibes.

It's the other occupants of the room that worry you though.

On the floor, legs splayed wide, wearing nothing but adult-sized onesies and bulging diapers, to young men not much older than you are babbling to each other as they play with dolls.

Laying on her back, another young woman, a clearly well-used diaper the only piece of clothing on her body babbles and kicks at toys dangling from an infant's play gym set up over her head.

Across the room, another person, clearly a college-aged adult, is laying in their back on what you now recognize as a changing table, legs in the air as their ass is presumably being wiped by a very attractive man.

A hand falls gently on your lower back as the door you just walked through clicks closed behind you. You jump at the sudden physical contact and noise.

"Well, here you are, silly goose! Your Daddy told us you would be late for your first day, but I figured he would at least do us the courtesy of dropping you off."

Your bookbag is pulled from your shoulders as you turn and see a woman, maybe 50 years old, shaking her head as she digs through your bag.

"No diapers, no pullies, not even a change of close? No, no no! This definitely won't do!"

You struggle to find words as the woman gently leads you towards the changing table that is now unoccupied.

She grabs your ass, not sexually, but like a caregiver checking if their charge is wet.

"You're not even wearing a diaper yet? Your Daddy really should know better!"

"Wait, what?" You blurt out, only to be distracted by a firm, but gentle, slap on you ass.

"Climb on up, sweetheart! Let's get you properly dressed. Your Daddy should have told you the rules: No student in the University of Springfield's Little Academy can go unpadded. It encourages bad habits!"

Your eyes grow wide.

The Little Academy, the school where, supposedly, they turned otherwise normal adults into pantswetting, drooling infants, was only supposed to be a rumor. A Boogeyman designed to scare university students into performing well in their classes.

"I... I'm in the wrong room!" You chirp out, backing away from the large table in front of you.

Before you make it even a step, the matronly woman has you by the wrist and the back, gently but firmly guiding you up onto the table.

"Oh no? Having second thoughts, sweetie? It's far, far too late for that. You don't want to find out what happens to naughty little things on your first day, do you?"

You swallow, looking around the classroom again. What you see strikes you with concern, but it doesn't look quite as bad as the stories made it sound.

Do you really want to risk the rumored punishments this place has to offer--spanking, corner time, narcotics, and hypnosis--when, if you just play along, you'll be out of her Scott-free at the end of the day?

Sighing in resignation, you let the woman help you lay down on the table.

"That's a good little one! I think you're really going to like it here!"

Two hours later you're sitting on the carpet, legs spread wide, showing off your slightly damp diaper as you play trucks with Allie, the girl from the jumper earlier.

You can't help but smile and giggle as you run the toy trucks over the soft carpet with your new friend.

The Little Academy really wasn't turning out to be all that bad, at least for the day.

You turn your head as you hear the door open though, and an older man with an angry little in tow bursts into the door.

"No, Daddy! I said no! I'm an adult! I'm not doing this!"

The little screams as the door closes behind them.

The older man looks exasperated.

"I'm so sorry we're late! We had some... concerns about our first day of class."

The little, clad in a thick diaper and romper, sticks out their tongue and blows a raspberry at their caregiver.

The woman who assisted you when you first came in, Professor Sandberg, shoots you a curious look before turning to the newcomer and their Daddy.

"That's quite alright. Quite alright indeed!" She says, taking the new little under her control just like she did you, "Sometimes, our new enrollees in the program need a little time to... adjust... to their new lot in life."

She gestures to one of the younger caregivers--teaching assistants, you know now.

"Can you please take our new bundle of joy to the readjustment room?" She asks sweetly.

You sense Allie, the little playing with you, tense her body at the mention of the readjustment room.

Butterflies begin to fill your stomach as it dawns on you that the diapered person being dragged away in front of you is probably the person you were supposedly imitating.

Professor Sandberg walks up to you, crotching low and placing a hand on your back.

"Don't worry sweetheart," she coos, "You're not in trouble, even though you're clearly not who I thought you were."

Tension starts to drain in your stomach from her words.

"But, with what a sweet little thing you are, I think this is going to be the only class you're taking at this university from now on."