Graduating college requires at least two unpotty training courses. All PhD students are fully diapered.

No one believed it would work. But Megan held the device in her hands, ready to prove them wrong. She pressed the button and spoke into the microphone:

"Graduating college requires at least two unpotty training courses. All PhD students are fully diapered."

The moment the words left her lips, reality itself seemed to ripple. The Truth Engine had done its work.

Megan stood in the middle of the lab, her fingers tracing the smooth metal of the Truth Engine. The air smelled faintly of plastic and baby powder, a scent that now clung to everything. She glanced down at herself, thick, crinkly diapers peeked out from under her lab coat, the wetness indicator already a soft blue. She wiggled slightly, feeling the squish between her legs, and suppressed a giggle. This is perfect.

Around her, the university carried on as if nothing had changed. To everyone else, this was normal.

Across the room, her lab mate, Dr. Harris, let out a grunt as he squatted beside his workstation, his face scrunched in concentration. A faint crinkle filled the air, followed by a soft, wet squish as he shifted his weight. He let out a satisfied sigh, adjusted his glasses, and stood up, patting his diaper absently before turning back to his notes.

In the hallway, a group of first-year students walked by, still in regular pants. They chatted about their classes, oblivious to the changes that awaited them. One of them, a nervous-looking freshman, clutched a syllabus that now included Unpotty Training 101, a requirement for graduation.

Megan’s gaze followed a graduate student padding down the hall, her oversized shirt barely covering the pull-up hugging her hips. The student paused mid-step, her face relaxing as a soft hiss filled the air. She then waddled on, the plastic rustling with every movement. It was just another day at Barnsford.