19-year old Mia was fidgeting in her chair, squeezing her thighs ever more tightly together as she waited for the bell. Eight more minutes, she thought; only eight more!
Amanda--her Economics teacher--noticed right away. Truth be told Amanda was always mindful of Mia; always checking her out, if only out of the corner of her eye. It all started during the second day of class. Mia had bent over in her seat to fish a book out of her bag. Amanda, while passing in the aisle, happened to glance down at just the right moment to see the edge of Mia's diaper peeking out over the top of her jeans.
The moment was electric!
Amanda had already admired the tiny co-ed the previous day, thinking: she's perfect! Indeed, Mia was the exact sort of little girl that Amanda fantasized about. Bookish, but pretty, with a thick ponytail of straight blond hair, clear fair skin with a persistent blush; curvy like a 50's starlet, but scaled down perfectly to something under five feet. At first glance nearly everyone assumed that Mia was a well-developed but nonetheless girlish 15, maybe 16. Her thick tortoise-shell glasses and juvenile clothing only served to make her look more childish still!
Just looking at Mia made Amanda's panties damp!
And now, to Amanda's delight, Mia clearly had to go. Observing her intently (and causing the embarrassed squirmy girl to deepen her blush!), Amanda wondered: How close is she? Mia was certainly going to wet her diapers very soon but Amanda was positive that she hadn't done so yet. Continuing to stare, Amanda asked herself: Could I somehow make her wet? Given time she would have undoubtedly come up with any number of schemes. But, before she could do so, a "miracle" occurred!
It was the Wednesday morning right before Thanksgiving; the last class of that shortened day. Most of the students had already left for their holiday, and therefore it was a perfect time to test out the new emergency alert system. Notices were posted; reminders went out over the intercom. As usual, though, all of the warnings were ignored. At 12:00pm sharp--although the clock on the classroom wall said 11:56--a clanging alarm sounded. It rang especially loud in Amanda's brick-walled classroom, two-flights up the northern spire of that musty old Victorian monstrosity: Ramsey Hall.
Everyone was startled! As the alarm continued to sound Amanda put her hands to her ears and shouted to the students: "Get out of here, go home," The students, eager to be gone, rushed out and down the steps. Following them, Amanda remembered at the last to shout: "Have a great Thanksgiving!" The last student gone, Amanda--still wound up by her fantasies and wanting some "privacy"-- locked the lower staircase door then went back upstairs. For good measure, she locked the upstairs door, too.
Abruptly, the clangor stopped!
In all of the commotion Amanda had lost track of Mia and was therefore very much surprised to find the girl still sitting at her desk. A single glance, however, told Mia's story in full. Fit to burst before the alarm bells rang, a much startled Mia had finally lost all control; soaking her overalls down to her sneakers.
The humiliated girl reacted like all such girls and began to cry.
Coming over to her desk, Amanda asked (not unkindly, but also without much delicacy): "Why aren't you wearing your diapers?"
Mia, instantly mortified, could only look up in anguish at her favorite teacher and sob. Was it that obvious? Did everyone know? To be seen in such a state by Miss Hayes (Mia never used Amanda's first name; not even in her girlish fantasies!) was especially devastating. She must think I'm a stupid little baby!
Convinced that all of her hopes were dashed, Mia contemplated her pretty teacher with poignant nostalgia. Ms. Hayes was perfect! 5'3" and only 24, yet more than a little womanly, with huge breasts, shoulder length chestnut hair, soft olive skin, and piercing blue eyes. Best of all, Amanda invariably loved to dress like a 50s starlet; in narrow-waisted knee-length dresses, lace-trimmed petticoats and all. Mia absolutely loved that!
Hanging her head in shame, Mia's knew that it was all her fault. She had tried to act so grown up, had thought that she was so very adult, yet here was proof that she couldn't even go a single morning without wetting herself like a little baby.
In retrospect, it was easy to see where she went wrong. Pull-ups cost money; something that Mia had very little of. Mia had used her last pull-up the day before but she wouldn't have the cash to buy any more until after class, when she picked up her work-study check. She could have, of course, worn one of her thick cloth nighttime diapers, but she was embarrassed to wear them to class; worried that: Ms. Hayes might notice the telltale bulge! Last, and most damningly, was hubris. As Mia dressed for class she reasoned to herself out loud: "I'm mostly a bedwetter and I haven't had a daytime accident in over a year. I'll be fine; it's only two hours!"
As in all Greek tragedy, Mia got the very thing she least wanted. Or so she would have, at first, thought.
While the wet and sobbing Mia wallowed in her misery, Amanda was consumed with something very different: arousal. Taut-nipple, cunt-dripping arousal. Just looking at Mia made her clit itch. Here was a sopping wet girl, a girl she had lusted after, a diaper-wearing girl, a girl who filled her masturbatory fantasies. Here was Mia, vulnerable and in tears. There was nothing else for it; Amanda knew that she had to make Mia her own.
Drawing Mia gently up from her desk, Amanda enfolded the miserable girl into her arms.
Mia's cries rose--her anguish given full release--but gradually subsided as she realized that Ms. Hayes was hugging her; her head pillowed into ample cleavage.
Looking down at her student's beautiful face and absently stroking her wet behind, Amanda said: "Let's get you changed," then, added: "You'd like a nice dry diaper, wouldn't you?"
A wide-eyed Mia could only nod a fitful "Yes!"
"Good . . . good girl" Amanda said, "But first let's get you out of your wet things."
Pushing Mia up against her big front desk--all but slamming her against it--Amanda began by unbuttoning Mia's overalls. Left clip undone, right one too, and Mai's overalls heaped down around her surprisingly wide hips. Her t-shirt went next, but only after a bunch of delightful wriggling to get it clear of her head and arms. Amanda then became transfixed by Mia's hard nipples, as they tented the sheer lace of her brassiere. Without volition, her hands rose to unclasp Mia's bra at the front, slowly pulling away the left cup and then the right; allowing each breast to tumble free in its turn. Mia's breasts--quite large on her tiny frame--were upturned and firm, with hard pointy nipples, small dark puckered areola, and a lovely pinkish glow. Perfect! They even jiggled; happy to be released.
