Pants Down

Tamara circled Olivia, looking carefully at her for a moment and then… YANK. Olivia squeaked as her pants were pulled down to her ankles. Tamara smirked as she gazed at the diaper Olivia was wearing. “Aw look at that. Miss Clark needs diapers,” Tamara said, giggling.

Olivia squirmed as her hands darted to hide her diaper, embarrassed to be exposed again to her class and this woman who was evaluating her. “H-hey…” Olivia squirmed. “D-don’t…”

Olivia gasped as Tamara grabbed her wrists and pinned them behind her back. “Look at you,” Tamara said. “You think that this is what a responsible teacher should be doing? Wearing diapers, peeing in them like a baby?”

Olivia squirmed trying to break free, pants helplessly around her ankles, diaper on full display. “P-please. Let me go,” Olivia cried.

“Do grown women who teach need diapers, Livi?” Tamara asked.

“No…” Olivia cried, blushing at the use of the childish nickname.

“Do grown women who teach wet their diapers uncontrollably, Livi?” Tamara asked.

“N-no…” Olivia cried.

“What kind of people wet and need diapers, Livi?” Tamara asked.

“L-little girls,” Olivia cried.

“So what does that make you?” Tamara asked. “Does that make you a grown woman?”

“N-no…” Olivia cried. “It makes me a l-little girl.”

“What do your diapers say on them, Livi?” Tamara asked.

“Baby!” Olivia cried.

“Are you a baby?” Tamara asked

Olivia squirmed. She didn’t want to answer. She was standing in front of her class, pants at her ankles, wet diaper on display, being scolded by another adult woman. “Y-yes… I… I’m a baby! A baby little girl who needs diapers!”

“Very good,” Tamara said. “So… I guess by my evaluation you are not qualified to teach anymore.”

Olivia gasped. “What? You can’t… you can’t just…”

Tamara said. “I’ll be speaking to the dean about this.”

With that, Tamara let go of Olivia and walked out the door. Olivia broke down crying as her pants remained at her ankles. She felt immense shame and embarrassment as she tried to find her composure. “Professor Clark, are you okay?”

“Profesor Clark?”

Olivia sunk down to the ground, crying. Her face burned. “Everyone move away. Let me handle this,” Olivia heard Jane say.

Olivia couldn’t even lift her head to see. Jane grabbed Olivia’s wrist. “Pulse is fast. Olivia, can you hear me? I need you to breathe. Just breathe.”

Olivia sniffled taking deep breaths. “Imma b-baby,” Olivia cried.

“No, you aren’t,” Jane said. “You just have a medical problem. A medical problem that is fairly common.”

“But how many grown women need diapers like I do?” Olivia sniffled.

“28% of women aged 30-39 in the US,” Jane answered. “8% for severe cases. It’s not a small number. In comparison, breast cancer is about 13% but you wouldn’t shame a grown woman for having breast cancer and needing a mastectomy. So why should needing diapers be any different?”

Olivia looked up, face still damp from the tears, but her cries slowing down. “But what do I do? I could lose my job…”

“No you can’t,” Wendy chimed in. “Not if it’s a legitimate medical problem. That would fall under the Disabilities Act. We would help you. They can’t fire you.”

Olivia sighed. “Maybe you’re right. But what about Tamara? She’s going to expose me to everyone.”

Jane smirked. “I might have an idea…”