What Emma Wants

Chapter Description: We find out what school life is like for Emma and her friends. When there is an unexpected intrusion, Emma finds herself in a difficult situation.

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I walked over to my usual table and sat down. Straight away I folded my arms across my chest to let everyone know I was in a bad mood. My friends sitting at the table, Zoe and Nicole, knew me well enough to not try to say anything to me as I waited for the teacher to start. I felt the recently wet diaper press against me and felt my mood turn even sourer. I had begged and begged my parents to allow me to at least try to potty train, but they had outright refused. Nothing would show the school authorities that I could be moved into classes with the boys like learning to use the toilet, my parents knew that, and I assumed that was one of the reasons they were so against it. Whenever I tried to train myself, my parents would give me “medicine” to make sure I failed. I soon learned not to try unless I wanted to be humiliated or left in diapers long past the point that they needed changing.

“Good morning, girls.” Mr. Smith walked in. Despite his greeting he was looking kind of dour which wasn’t unusual for him, “Before we begin is there anyone who needs to visit the nurse?”

A couple of hands went up and those girls were dismissed. What the teacher was really asking us was whether any of us needed our diaper changed. Usually, we were checked rather than asked but clearly Mr. Smith was letting laziness win out. The lessons never stopped when girls were absent with the nurse. If the lessons were paused every time it happened, we’d never get anything done. Not that anything we were taught in that classroom was anything I actually wanted to learn.

“Right, well, this morning we will be picking up where we left off last week.” Mr. Smith said as he unlocked a cupboard and started picking up some small boxes.

I groaned. There were few things I actually enjoyed doing in school, but what was coming was the worst. A box was placed in front of me, and I opened it up to reveal a needle, some thread and various pieces of cloth.

Sewing was one of those vital skills all girls had to learn. The sciences were ignored, our maths was extremely basic, but sewing was very important. I didn’t even try to hide my disgust as everyone started opening the boxes the teacher handed out. Mr. Smith stopped when he saw the sour look on my face.

“Come on, Emma, a pretty girl like you should be smiling.” Mr. Smith said, “This will really help when you have children.”

I glared at Mr. Smith. I wasn’t too quiet about how much I hated my position, so it was hard to tell if the teacher was intentionally trying to wind me up. I knew if I spoke up it would mean punishment but holding my tongue wasn’t easy. I knew for a fact Mr. Smith didn’t like teaching us. No one wanted to be teacher that was “relegated” to teaching the girls. No one wanted to use all their educational qualifications to just teach the basics to a bunch of people they regarded as not needing to know more. The resentment caused Mr. Smith to see us as a burden rather than an opportunity to teach, he saw himself as a babysitter more than a teacher. I knew all this because he wasn’t at all shy about telling us. Teaching girls was basically a dead-end career-wise.

I looked down at my little collection of sewing equipment. Other girls were already getting started. Zoe, sitting next to me, had her tongue between her teeth as she tried to thread the needle. I noticed that on my other side Nicole was already sewing surprisingly well.

“I hate doing this…” I grumbled.

“We know.” Zoe said through her gritted teeth as she managed to get the thread through the small hole at last.

“Pacifiers in, girls.” Mr. Smith called over.

I sighed but picked up my pacifier and pushed it between my lips anyway. I hated doing as I was told but it was another unfair school rule that would get me in trouble if I didn’t follow it. I bit down on the bulb as I tried to join in the other girls and start sewing the cloth together.

There was another reason I hated sewing and pretty much everything else I was forced to do. Loathe as I was to admit it, my coordination wasn’t just bad in general, it was pretty bad even for a girl. Whilst everyone in the class managed to thread their needles after a few minutes I continued to struggle. It was the simplest part of the whole process and as everyone moved on to the next stage I was still sitting there failing to get my fingers to cooperate.

“Do you want me to help?” Nicole asked around the latex nipple filling her mouth.

“No.” I muttered darkly. I glanced sideways to see that not only had she managed to get the thread through the small hole, but she’d already made half a dozen stitches.

It was incredibly frustrating to be so sure I could get on in the boys’ classes whilst being held back by my body. After a couple more failed attempts to get the thread through the hole I threw it all down on the table in anger.

“Is there a problem, Emma?” Mr. Smith’s voice came from directly behind me. I jumped and felt a squirt of urine shoot into my padding.

“No…” I replied slowly.

“Then keep trying.” Mr. Smith said, “You’ll never get to college if you give up like that.”

Mr. Smith chuckled and rubbed the top of my head before walking off to another table. I hadn’t thought I could be any angrier but somehow the teacher had managed to spike my temper. He knew of my dreams and saw my failings. To treat it all like some sort of joke was galling. It made me want to get up and…

“Calm down.” Zoe said to me without looking up from her own sewing. She’d managed to complete one haphazard looking stitch.

I simmered in my seat as I took a few deep breaths. Zoe and Nicole knew me well enough to know that it didn’t take a lot to get my temper to spill over. I tried to concentrate on the sewing again. As much as I hated it there was no other way out. I needed to prove I had the coordination needed to be allowed into the classes with the boys. At eighteen-years-old I was fast running out of time and if I failed my life would be just like my mothers. I couldn’t think of a worse fate.

I sucked on my pacifier as I tried to thread the needle again. My hands shook more and more the closer I got. It felt like I was going cross-eyed. I tried to push it through and missed by half an inch. I tried again and was closer. On the third try it finally went through. I broke into a big smile mostly hidden by the soother’s mouth guard. I belatedly realised that with all my concentration I had started sweating. It was a victory!

“Finished.” Nicole said loudly as she raised her hand.

I looked up and saw that she had very neatly sewed the two pieces of cloth together. I had to admit it looked very good, almost to the same level mom had when she sewed stuff at home. Suddenly me managing to complete step one of the process felt like nothing at all. I sighed as I picked up the cloth and started preparing the next step.

“Teacher’s pet.” Zoe said with a playful grin at Nicole.

I didn’t know how Zoe could be so calm about everything. Did she not realise what would happen if we remained in the stupid class until graduation? Did she care? It was true that I was a bit of an outlier, one of the few people not inherently alright with the status quo. Most of the girls were perfectly content to grow at their own pace and live a life home making.

Nicole’s only response to Zoe was to stick her tongue at her. The two girls shared a laugh as Mr. Smith came over to inspect the work. He held up Nicole’s accomplishment and I watched enviously.

“Wow, you really did a great job!” Mr. Smith said. He patted Nicole on the head, “You lined it up nicely and everything. As a special treat why don’t you go over to the corner and start play time early?”

Nicole looked very pleased with herself as she stood up. She took a couple of steps towards the corner and then stopped. Her dress was extremely short so when the rear of her diaper started to bulge out a couple of seconds later, I knew exactly what was happening. As much as I felt bad for my friend, I couldn’t completely hide a small smirk as I thought “not so grown up after all…”

“Erm, Sir, may I visit the nurse first?” Nicole asked a few seconds later.

“Of course. I’ll write you a pass.” Mr. Smith replied as the pair headed over to the desk.

I looked down at my sewing work once again but before I had a chance to place another sloppy stitch, I heard the door to the classroom open. I looked up and turned to the door and was shocked. It was a guy.

It was a man I had never seen before. He was tall and had tanned skin, with brown hair that almost reached his shoulders. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and was holding it with one hand whilst in the other he was scanning a piece of paper. He seemed confused.

“Can I help you?” Mr. Smith asked as he looked up from the desk, he was writing the permission slip at.

“I think I’m lost.” The new guy said.

“Well, come in.” Mr. Smith said, “I’ll help you in a second. I doubt this is your classroom!”

Mr. Smith chuckled as he signed the note and handed it to Nicole. She was blushing even harder as she hurried out of the room past this new boy. The guy walked inside and looked around; he was smiling but it didn’t seem like he was making fun of us. When I looked around, I saw that I was far from the only girl distracted by the new entrant into the room. I rolled my eyes and returned to my work.

I felt weirdly protective of my classroom. I hated being there, but I found myself resenting a man coming in as well. Girls weren’t given much, but this was ours, I didn’t appreciate my territory being invaded by someone I saw as the enemy. As I tried to feed the needle through the cloth in my hands, I hoped he would find what he needed and leave as soon as possible.

“He’s so hot!” Zoe whispered to me as she wantonly stared at the entrant.

“Keep your panties on.” I replied dismissively, “Besides, I thought you wanted Liam to notice you.”

Zoe gave me a sharp look before returning to ogle the stranger. I shook my head at her behaviour. I hated my situation, and nothing ground my gears like watching other girls playing their role to perfection. I was determined not to be just another pretty face for a guy to pick out as his trophy wife and domestic servant. Unfortunately, to escape that fate I really needed to get my coordination together and that wasn’t happening.

“Ah, Jacob, yes?” Mr. Smith said as he checked the paper the new guy was carrying.

I looked up again. If I resented this man, this “Jacob”, for coming into my domain then why did I keep looking up at him just like all the other girls here? I shook my head and tried to focus. The only way I was going to improve my station was if I could prove my coordination was acceptable. I had to concentrate.

“Ah, yes, obviously this isn’t your room.” Mr. Smith said as he checked the schedule, “You’ve got the right room number but the wrong floor. You need to go up a level.”

I heard Jacob laugh and like a magnet I was drawn to looking up at him again. I may have been determined not to be just another girl destined to pop out babies and look after a man, but I was still heterosexual, I could still appreciate a good-looking guy. Objectively speaking Jacob was a handsome looking person. There was nothing wrong with me noticing that even if I hated how he kept stealing my attention.

My hands were still moving despite me not looking what I was doing. I had been annoyed at myself for being so easily distracted and now I was about to get my comeuppance. I could hardly sew properly when I was looking at the work, when I was looking elsewhere, I had no chance. The needle came up through the cloth in my hands and straight into my thumb.

“Ah!” I immediately screamed like a little girl and dropped the cloth on to the table. Everyone turned my way as my bottom lip trembled.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry! I begged myself.

I looked down at my thumb and saw a small drop of blood forming where I had inadvertently punctured myself. I was trying to keep a lid on my emotions, but it was as impossible for me to do as the sewing itself was. My eyes watered and when I tried to blink the tears away, they simply rolled down my face.

My composure broke entirely, and I burst into tears. Loud humiliating crying punctured the air made worse by how I knew I was humiliating myself. I didn’t look up from my table, but I was sure Jacob must’ve thought I was just a stupid little girl like the rest of my classmates. Just like coordination, emotional control developed late for most girls, and it seemed I was behind the curve in that respect as well.

“Alright, Jacob, if you can’t find your room feel free to come back for more help.” Mr. Smith said. Speaking louder to be heard over my wailing, “I have to deal with this.”

I dared to glance up and saw that Jacob was indeed looking straight at me as he was handed back his schedule. I didn’t hear what he said to our teacher as he hurried out of the room. Mr. Smith came over to me, he seemed annoyed about the commotion I was making. I didn’t blame him. I was annoyed by it too.

“It’s OK, Emma, it’s just a little pinprick.” Mr. Smith said condescendingly, “Come to my desk. I’ve got some band-aids.”

I rose from my chair and followed the teacher. I looked over to the door which was closing. Was it the tears distorting my vision, or did I see Jacob peeking through the gap until the last possible moment? It must’ve been my eyes playing tricks on me, I couldn’t think of a reason anyone would want to be near me making all this noise. I knew that when any of the other girls cried like this it was all I could do to not run out of the room with my ears covered.

A small pink band-aid was wrapped around my finger. It almost immediately started to calm my tears somewhat as I returned to my desk. I was red in the face, not just from the crying, but because of how I had lost control like I did. I wanted to prove I could be mature and should be given a chance in the proper classes before school ended but instead, I was managing to do the complete opposite.

When I sat back down, I shuddered. My diaper had swollen up and the bottom felt very warm. At some point during my meltdown, I had apparently wet myself and not even noticed. I sighed and hung my head. This was turning into a hell of a day.

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