The principal’s office was a well-organized but imposing space. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves filled with binders, certificates, and disciplinary records. A large mahogany desk sat at the center of the room, with a polished brass nameplate reading Amber Higgins, Principal prominently displayed at the front. Behind it, a tall leather chair loomed, adding to the authority the space projected.

Derrick and I stood side by side in front of the desk. I shifted uncomfortably, the slight crinkle of my pull-up making every movement feel amplified. Across from us, Ms. Higgins stood with her arms crossed before slowly kneeling down to meet our level, her piercing gaze scanning both of us.

"Would you like to explain what the moaning was about in the restroom?" she asked, her voice calm but firm.

Derrick, always quick to speak, opened his mouth to respond, “We were having a private moment and–”

But Ms. Higgins held up a hand. "I want to hear it from the new girl."

I hesitated, feeling my cheeks heat up. I could feel Derrick glance at me before he leaned in slightly, whispering, "It’s okay. Just let it out."

His reassurance gave me the courage to speak. "Derrick and I… we made love in the restroom," I admitted quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "I… I never had that one before, and Derrick helped me… experience it."

Ms. Higgins sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I suspected as much. Every school in the country has a strict rule against sexual intercourse; that includes shrinkees."

The weight of her disappointment sinking in. "I’m planning to call your guardians," she continued, her tone leaving no room for debate. "How they decide to discipline you is up to them. But as for school punishment, both of you will serve a thirty-minute time-out in opposite corners of the room."

Disappointment settled in, but before I could dwell on it, Derrick nudged me lightly. "Hey, I’ve been punished plenty of times for stuff like this," he said with a small grin. "You’ll get used to it."

Ms. Higgins nodded in acknowledgment. "Derrick, you may go. Emily, stay here for a bit."

As Derrick exited the office, Ms. Higgins turned her full attention to me. "Amanda informed me about your… situation," she said, her gaze dropping slightly. "You’re wearing a pull-up, correct?"

I nodded hesitantly, suddenly feeling all too aware of the soft crinkle beneath my dress. The room felt warmer, or maybe that was just my embarrassment creeping in.

"How long have you been wearing it?" she asked, her expression unreadable.

"Since 5:30 in the morning," I answered, shifting uncomfortably. The padding between my legs had grown thicker, slightly swollen from the hours of wear. The discomfort was subtle but present, and the thought of her knowing this made my cheeks burn.

Ms. Higgins walked over to a cabinet, pulled out a fresh, folded pull-up identical to the one I had on, and handed it to me. "Here. Change into these."

I stiffened, gripping the new pull-up tightly. "Some privacy, please?"

"Nope," she said bluntly, her tone firm but not unkind. "I'm like your other Momma, that needs to make sure you're well. So, if you change here, I’ll let that incident slide and Amanda won’t hear a peep about it." She added one thing that kinda surprises me, “Actually, you remind me of myself in high school, when I lost my virginity in the football stadium’s public restroom. Aaah, memories.”

I didn’t need to know that.

I hesitated, my stomach knotting with anxiety. Slowly, I reached under my dress, grasping the waistband of my current pull-up. With careful movements, I slid it down my legs, the cool air brushing against my bare skin as I stepped out of it. My hands trembled slightly as I handed the used garment to Ms. Higgins, who took it without comment, folding it neatly before disposing of it.

I took a deep breath before stepping into the fresh pull-up, feeling the soft material conform to my legs as I pulled it up snugly around my waist. The difference was immediate—the new one felt dry and light, a small relief from the bulkiness of the previous one. Even so, the reality of my dependence on them was sinking in faster than I could process.

Ms. Higgins crossed her arms and regarded me with a knowing look. "You may not know this, but wearing Pull-ups requires you to change them every three to four hours."

I looked up at her, startled. "Really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Unlike regular underwear, these are meant to keep you dry…The material’s different and don’t last all day. If they did make one, well… that wouldn’t be very profitable for the Pull-up industry, would it?"

I swallowed hard, her words making my situation feel even more permanent. I had worn regular underwear for years without giving it a second thought, but now? Now I had to think about when to change, how often, and who would be making sure I did. The realization was crushing.

Ms. Higgins stepped back, giving me a once-over before nodding in approval. "Good. Now you’re set. You may go back to class." Her tone softened just a little. "Just try to be on your best behavior, Emily."

I nodded, forcing myself to accept her words. But as I turned toward the door, the weight of my new routine settled heavily on my shoulders. This wasn’t just a phase. This was my new life, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it.

As I returned to class, my eyes instinctively searched for Derrick. He was sitting in the corner of the room, looking as unbothered as ever. Before I could dwell on it, the teacher’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Emily, take your seat with the rest of the class,” she instructed.

I hesitated before approaching the shrinkees sitting on the colorful rug. As I lowered myself down and crossed my legs, I took in my surroundings. Instead of desks and traditional school materials, the room was filled with objects designed to enforce a toddler-like environment. Alphabet posters lined the walls, colorful blocks and soft plush toys were scattered in play bins, and a large chalkboard at the front of the room displayed simple sight words and picture cues meant for beginner-level learning.

But what really caught my attention was the shrinkees themselves.

Many of them weren’t in typical adult clothing. I saw onesies, soft elastic-waist shorts, colorful t-shirts with cartoon prints, and even a few footed pajamas. Some wore Velcro sneakers or socks with grippy bottoms. And then there were the diapers.

I felt my face heat up as I took in the unmistakable bulk under some of their outfits. I wasn’t the only one in protection. A few shrinkees still wore Pull-ups, while others had thick, rounded padding peeking from beneath their shorts or dresses.

And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Miss Blackburn clapped her hands, gaining everyone’s attention. "Alright, everyone! Morning warm-ups!"

I barely had time to brace myself before she launched into the ABCs.

The familiar melody played from a small speaker as the entire class began singing. Some shrinkees enthusiastically clapped along, while others simply mumbled through the letters. I hesitated but quickly realized that not participating wasn’t an option.

Swallowing my pride, I forced myself to sing. "A… B… C… D…"

The experience was surreal. Just weeks ago, I had been a fully independent adult. Now, I was sitting cross-legged on a rug, singing my ABCs in unison with a group of regressed adults, many of whom were padded just like me.

As soon as the song ended, Miss Blackburn smiled. "Great job, class! Now, let’s move on to our next activity."

I barely had a second to process what was happening before she clapped again. "Time for our morning potty routine!"

I quickly realized that potty training was built into the daily structure.

One by one, shrinkees were called to either use the potty or receive a diaper check. Those who wore Pull-ups were guided to a small row of training potties in the corner, while others who were still in diapers were gently pulled aside by a teacher’s aide for a quick check.

I swallowed hard as I watched one shrinkee—a woman with short, dark hair—stand still as the aide casually lifted her skirt, slipped a finger inside the leg hole of her diaper, and gave a nod.

This was normal here.

I clenched my hands in my lap, my breath shallow as I forced myself to look away. Would I have to go through that next?

As if reading my mind, Miss Blackburn smiled warmly at the group. "Remember, using the potty when asked is very important! And for those in diapers, don’t worry—your caretakers and teachers will always check to make sure you’re dry and comfortable."

The matter-of-fact way she said it sent chills down my spine.

Lunch arrived, and the class made their way outdoors to eat. The sun cast warm rays over the playground as I followed behind, my steps a little slower than the others. I sat next to Lily at one of the picnic tables, the chatter of the other shrinkees filling the air around us.

I opened my lunch bag, half-dreading what I would find inside. Sure enough, Amanda had packed food meant for a five-year-old. A juice box, some sliced fruit, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into tiny squares, and a small pack of crackers with cartoon characters on the wrapper. I sighed quietly but picked up one of the sandwich squares, knowing I had little choice but to eat.

Across the table, another girl caught my attention. She was Asian, with straight black hair neatly pulled into a single braid. She wore a floral romper and tiny sandals, her feet swinging slightly as she quietly nibbled her lunch.

Curious, I leaned forward slightly. "Hey, what’s your name?" I asked gently.

The girl froze, her hands gripping the sandwich she had been holding. She lowered her gaze, too shy to answer. Before I could ask again, Lily spoke up. "That’s Mei," she said, her voice soft with understanding. "She’s not very talkative, but I know her story."

I looked back at Mei, who still refused to meet my eyes, and then at Lily. "Her story?" I asked.

Lily nodded, taking a sip from her juice box. "Mei's gone through a few caretakers. Her shrinking was different from ours—her body kept regressing little by little, and she ended up needing constant care. The biggest problem is her leaks. She can’t keep dry for long, so she has to get changed every time it happens."

I swallowed hard at that revelation. It reminded me of my own accidents and the leaks I’d already had. If I kept shrinking, would I end up in the same situation? Would I need constant changes? Would I be passed around between caretakers, too? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned back to Lily. "How do you know all this?" I asked.

Before she could respond, Mei reached into her small bag and pulled out what looked like a doll—except it wasn’t just a toy. The tiny figure blinked and stretched her arms as she was placed on the table, and my breath caught in my throat.

The doll-like girl had delicate features, her tiny body in an intricate pastel dress with lace trimmings. She had soft brown curls that framed her miniature face, and her porcelain-like skin made her look even more like a handcrafted toy.

She looked up at me with a small smile. "Hello, my name is Hana," she said in a high-pitched yet mature voice. "I was once an adult, like you. The Minim Virus took me further than most. I became small enough to be treated as a toy."

I stared, fascinated and horrified at the same time. "You… you were bought?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Hana nodded. "Mei’s caretaker thought she’d like to have someone to play with. And in a way, she was right. But I do more than just sit on a shelf." She glanced up at Mei, who gently patted her head with one finger. "I check Mei’s Pull-ups for her. I also help her communicate when she’s too shy to speak. And, well… I provide comfort in ways caretakers don’t always understand."

I glanced at Mei, who was now looking at me cautiously, unsure of how I’d react. The weight of the situation settled over me. I had been worried about my own shrinking, but this… this was another level entirely.

As I sat there, taking in everything I had just learned, one thought loomed over the rest—if my shrinking didn’t stop, would I end up like Mei? Or worse… like Hana?

I prayed the doctor was right about when I stopped shrinking.

Later on, it was nap time. The classroom lights dimmed as the teacher guided everyone to lay out their rugs, each child curling up beneath a small blanket. The air was filled with the soft shuffling of bodies settling in, occasional yawns, and the faint rustling of fabric.

Exhaustion had crept up throughout the day, and nap time felt like the perfect opportunity to take a break. I stretched out on my rug, letting the blanket drape over me as my body relaxed for the first time since morning.

Beside me, Mei was already lying down, her tiny frame curled up as she clutched Hana close to her chest. The little doll-sized girl was nestled in Mei’s grip, her delicate face peaceful in sleep. Watching them, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort. Despite her struggles, Mei had found a way to adapt—Hana being a part of that.

I sighed, my eyelids growing heavier as I listened to the quiet breathing around me. The blanket's warmth, the soft murmur of the classroom, and the rhythmic sound of Mei’s slow breaths lulled me into a sense of security I hadn’t felt in a long time. My mind drifted off as my body fully relaxed, carrying me into much-needed rest.

Thankfully, I didn’t have any accidents after I woke up from that.

Thank God.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur of typical kindergarten lessons, as if I would ever need to relearn any of that. It was a strange experience, but I did my best to go along with it, knowing there was little choice.

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. I followed the line of students outside, my steps lighter now that I could go. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I spotted Amanda waiting near the curb, her face lighting up when she saw me. Her happiness was almost contagious, and I felt a strange warmth.

"There’s my girl!" Amanda greeted cheerfully, kneeling down slightly as I approached.

I smiled at her, feeling an odd sense of relief after a long day. "How was work?" I asked, shifting the weight of my backpack on my shoulders.

Amanda groaned playfully. "Boring without you," she admitted. "Office work isn’t the same when I don’t have my little companion around."

I chuckled softly, glad to hear she had missed me, even if I wasn’t thrilled about my new school routine.

A quiet relief settled over me as we started walking toward the car. Principal Higgins had kept her word. No mention of the incident in the bathroom had reached Amanda. It was a silent agreement—what happened with Derrick, the moaning, the consequences—stayed between the three of us. The last thing I needed was for Amanda to find out and make things even more complicated.

I climbed into the car as Amanda buckled me in, still feeling the day's weight behind me. At least now, I was finally going home.

The drive home was quiet, the hum of the car’s engine filling the space between us. I stared out the window, my mind still processing the strange new rhythm of my life. School, recess, nap time—it was all so surreal.

As soon as we got home, I stretched my arms and sighed, feeling the day's weight settle in my bones. The shrinkee kindergarten routine was exhausting in a way I hadn't expected, and I needed a moment to breathe. But before I could even step toward the couch, I remembered—I needed to change.

"I have to change my Pull-ups," I told Amanda, my voice quieter than I intended.

She nodded in understanding. "Go ahead, sweetheart. I'll get dinner ready."

I turned toward the stairs, staring at the daunting climb. It seemed taller than yesterday as if each step had grown overnight. No—it wasn’t the stairs that had changed. I was the one getting smaller. I took a deep breath and started my slow ascent, gripping the railing tightly. It took even more effort than before, each step feeling like an uphill battle. By the time I reached the top, I was panting, my legs aching from the effort.

Finally, I reached my room and closed the door behind me. I wasted no time pulling my dress over my head and tugging down my Pull-ups. As I looked at them, my stomach twisted. Another wet mark was absorbed deep into the padding. I hadn’t even realized it had happened.

I stared at it long before sighing and tossing the used Pull-ups into the nearby garbage. It was my second accident today. The second time, I hadn’t noticed. I shook my head and tried to push the thought away. Maybe I was just too distracted. Perhaps it wasn’t a big deal.

Turning toward my dresser, I opened the drawer, expecting to grab another Pull-up and something comfortable to sleep in. My fingers brushed against something soft and thick. I pulled it out and unfolded a pink fleece onesie with footed bottoms. The tag read Size 5/6.

My stomach dropped.

I swallowed hard, running my fingers over the thick, warm fabric. It was a little girl's pajama set—footie pajamas. I hadn’t worn the kind since I was maybe five or six years old. Now, barely over three feet tall, it was my size again.

I hesitated momentarily before finally unzipping the front and stepping into it. The fleece was soft against my bare skin, and as I pulled it up and slid my arms through the sleeves, I felt an odd mix of comfort and humiliation. The thick material hugged my body, warm and enclosing, but without a bra underneath, the fabric pressed snugly against my chest, making me all too aware of how small and sensitive I had become.

I zipped it up entirely and looked down at myself. The sleeves were slightly extended, covering part of my hands, and the footed bottoms made it impossible to feel the carpet beneath my toes. The bulk of my Pull-ups was even more noticeable under the onesie, the thick padding pressing against me as I moved. I sighed, knowing there was no use fighting it.

I took a deep breath before returning down the stairs, gripping the railing tightly as I stepped down carefully. Each step was an adjustment, the thick fleece of the onesie making my movements feel different, almost clumsy. When I reached the bottom, Amanda was already at the dining table, setting out plates.

She turned to look at me and immediately smiled. “Oh, look at you! You look so cozy in your jammies,” she cooed, placing her hands on her hips as she admired my sight in the pink-footed onesie.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the soft fabric bunch up slightly at my joints. “It’s warm,” I muttered, not wanting to admit how strangely comforting it felt despite my embarrassment.

Amanda chuckled as she pulled out my chair for me. “I figured you’d love it. Now, come on, sweetheart. Dinner’s ready.”

I climbed into my seat and looked down at my plate. Tonight’s meal was chicken alfredo with a side of steamed vegetables. Amanda’s plate had the same but with a more significant portion. As I took my first bite, I admitted it was delicious. The creamy sauce coated the pasta perfectly, and the chicken was tender.

Amanda kept smiling at me throughout dinner, occasionally commenting on how cute I looked. I did my best to ignore it and focus on eating, though I could feel the warmth creeping into my cheeks every time she mentioned it.

After dinner, we spent a couple of hours relaxing. I sat curled up on the couch while Amanda watched TV, the warmth of my onesie making me drowsy. My body felt sluggish, the exhaustion from the long day catching up to me faster than it used to. It wasn’t even late, but my eyelids were already growing heavy.

Amanda must have noticed because she stood up and scooped me into her arms effortlessly before I could say anything. “I think it’s bedtime for you, little one,” she whispered with a knowing smile.

I barely had the energy to protest as she carried me upstairs, cradling me against her like I weighed nothing at all. It was so effortless for her now. My head rested against her shoulder, my breath slowing as my body relaxed.

I was already halfway to sleep when she laid me in my toddler bed. She snugly tucked the blanket around me, then leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Sleep tight, my little angel,” she whispered.

The warmth of the onesie, the softness of the bed, and the gentle touch of her hand against my hair made it impossible to resist the pull of sleep. As I drifted off, another inch slipped away.

***

The next two days had followed a repetitive yet steadily worsening routine. Every morning, I would wake up in my toddler bed, which seemed to grow slightly bigger and bigger with each passing day. Every day at school, besides talking with my fellow shrinkees, making love with Derrick at any possible moment in private on the side, my leaks became more frequent, forcing me to change more often. It wasn’t just embarrassing—it was undeniable proof that my body was losing control faster than I had hoped.

At school, my place on the potty chart told a humiliating story. The stars I had proudly earned at the beginning of the week were now dwindling, replaced by empty spaces where I had failed to stay dry. At 3’10”, I had three leaks. At 3’9”, I had four. My bladder control is slipping away at the same pace as my height.

By the second day, my 3T-4T Pull-ups were already feeling too big for me, and a trip to the school bathroom had forced me to switch to a smaller size. Thankfully, Amanda had stuffed spare Pull-ups in my backpack, which I had desperately needed when the teacher performed a diaper check. Another wave of humiliation washed over me as she pulled the waistband back and sighed before handing me a fresh one to change into.

That night, as I crawled into bed, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread. The pattern was clear—I was running out of time before even Pull-ups wouldn’t fit anymore.

***

Morning arrived—the 22nd day since I started shrinking.

The first thing I noticed was the wetness between my legs.

It happened again.

I threw the covers off and inspected myself, my stomach sinking when I saw the telltale wet mark where my Pull-ups had leaked—again. That was the third leak in a single day, and now another one overnight. My body wasn’t even waking me up anymore; I was just sleeping through it as if my brain had given up trying to hold it in.

I sighed, getting out of bed and walking toward my dresser. As expected, Amanda had swapped out my usual Pull-ups with something new—something even smaller.

I reached for the pack and froze.

Pampers Easy Ups. Size 2T-3T.

Not just any Easy Ups. These were My Little Pony-themed.

I lifted one out, unfolding it with shaking hands. The front displayed Twilight Sparkle in all her magical, cheerful glory, surrounded by stars and swirls.

My breath caught. Amanda remembered.

Two days ago, when we were talking about childhood nostalgia, I had let it slip that I used to be a huge My Little Pony fan. Twilight Sparkle had been my favorite childhood comfort character. And now… she was on the front of my last resort before diapers.

I didn’t hesitate. Maybe it was because I was too exhausted from the constant shrinking, or perhaps it was Aiesha’s words ringing in my ears—embrace your inner child.

I slipped off my soaked Pull-up and tossed it in the trash before stepping into the Easy Ups. Immediately, I could feel the difference. These weren’t like the Pull-ups I had been wearing—they were softer, snugger, and felt even thicker. But most importantly, they weren’t Disney-themed.

For the first time in days, I cracked a small smile. If I was going to be forced into something this humiliating, at least I had Twilight Sparkle with me for at least one more ride.

Then, I checked the drawers for something to wear, but none of the kid's clothing could fit me anymore. I hesitated before moving to the next section—the toddler clothing. At this point, it was whatever fit. I picked up a dress, the only one that seemed to fit my new size, swallowed my pride, and slipped it on. The 3T tag on the inside was another gut punch, but I must admit it fits perfectly.

The dress itself was simple but unmistakably toddler-like. A soft taupe-colored pinafore dress layered over a floral long-sleeve shirt. The ruffled straps and pastel flower prints made it look like something a preschooler would wear. The fabric was lightweight but slightly puffed, making me feel even smaller than I already was. There was no mistaking it—I had officially outgrown kid’s clothing and had now transitioned into toddler wear.

Then, I turned toward my height chart, a morning ritual I dreaded and expected. My eyes followed the measurements, scanning downward until I found the mark.

3'8"

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t done shrinking yet.