afictionalphile
patreon
Nurserton #2: Jessica
🕑 Added 2022-04-28 23:00:00 +0000 UTCAbout Nurserton: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65186383
Previous: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65199992
Content Warnings
- Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing)
- Extensive Regression themes
- Extensive Sexual themes
- Adult Nursing
- CNC
- Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity
- Bullying and teasing
- Humiliation
Jessica ate breakfast with the general Preschool public. A grownup wouldn’t find this surprising, of course Jessica would eat breakfast in the Preschool cafeteria. Jessica was nothing yet, at least in the eyes of the grownups. But her actual colleagues, the other preschoolers, treated Jessica with suspicion. To them she’d put on airs. Shouldn’t she just waltz her booty into the grownup lounge to breakfast in the nicer space. Surely the door that was locked for everyday preschoolers would open for her, and her kind, the big kind, would welcome her. She could dine in the plush seats, away from all uncomfortable cafeteria benches and especially the lowly preschoolers and the smells of their accidents. Many grownups preferred to eat there if they could, if they weren’t on cafeteria duty or diaper duty. Most grownups assigned to the nursery were responsible for waking and changing three rooms of preschoolers. With two preschoolers assigned to a room, that meant each grownup had to wake and change six preschoolers. Few preschoolers (yes, even preschoolers) found the morning dry, and though they were better than their littler counterparts about brushing and preparing for their days, they weren’t perfect. Why didn’t Jessica join those grownups? Surely commiserating with the average, preschooler exhausted her too. Why didn’t any of the other uppity aspirants go either?
Of course, the Preschoolers had seen enough months go by to know that Jessica wasn’t ‘big’ in any official sense. Nothing was official until the evening of June 30th, and even then, her big kid status wouldn’t arrive until the first, when she actually moved her belongings down the path to the next building; the junior dorm. Even this, though, meant little. In practical reality, Jessica wouldn’t be trusted with real big kid responsibilities until many days after that. But none of these details phased the average preschooler. It was especially irrelevant to them that there was a world of difference between being a junior, which was what Jessica would become, and being an actual grownup.
Yet the murmurs were ever-present.
“Bigwig Jessica. Almost flunked out of Daycare once. Daycare. Can you believe it?”
“How many actual bedwetters do they let wear undies? Seriously! Can you imagine being that delusional?”
“I hear she’s best friends with a Nursery girl that she works with at her super special fancy pants chore. Imagine having something in common with one of them and also thinking that you were a big kid. Please!”
Jessica had heard plenty of it. The preschool was filled with glorified adult toddlers, and most were as good at whispering as they were at sharing and caring. It was a weird place, a specific place within a larger remote community of ABDLs, where those ABDLs who were neither the smallest nor the biggest lived. This weirdness bred many strange phenomena, and many longtime preschoolers had strange perspectives on what was taboo and what wasn’t. Pacifiers were tolerated, but thumbsucking was ridiculed. Having a dirty diaper was gross and very daycare, unless it was done to avoid being put in pullups, which everyone seemed to agree you shouldn’t have to wear if you don’t want to. Despite that opinion, pottying for #2 in the public potties in the playrooms was also a faux pas, and nobody wanted to see it. Where was one supposed to go, then, if one was trying to mess as little as possible, yet inevitably had to go outside of a potty training class. With only four to five classes a week, people had to go somewhere. Perhaps everyone was just supposed to hold their business all weekend. Nobody really had an answer for where one was supposed to poop, and nobody ever really admitted they didn’t live up to their own expectations of others. The real answer was critique of others was the point; that preschoolers spent much of their time criticizing others for regular things. It was the closest environment to an actual highschool in all of Nurserton.
There were those who were unabashed in their contempt for her. She was a stinker, pooper, almost Nursery baby. They remembered that the first time Jessica had been awarded a chance at pullups, she pooped that pullup within three hours. “Is this what I do in them?” They said, loud enough so she could hear them, while clutching their own bottoms in mock surprise. They didn’t seem to catch the irony that under those shorties, they were still in diapers themselves. Other preschoolers didn’t mean to mock or undermine Jessica, and would say things that would, had they been uttered about real world ideas in the actual real world, might resemble a microaggression. “So, do you really think you can do it? Do they actually let bedwetters have undies? Are you going to be changed when they give you your own room? Do the people down the hall change you, or are there grownups in the junior dorm too?” By saying these things to Jessica, they never meant to cast aspersions upon her. Jessica knew they meant no harm, they were glorified adult toddlers and didn’t know any better questions to ask.
They occasionally asked her good questions too, like Do you want to spend your day wiping butts, really? Jessica couldn’t deny that she did not know. Some of it would be fun, and some of it would be miserable. Just like everything, really. It wasn’t like the Daycare and the Preschool were all that. That was one thing that Nurserton shared with the rest of the world. Even in paradise, you can’t get everything you want at once. Not if you’re going to share it with other people.
Or in this case, glorified adult toddlers.
The biggest rumor spinning around the beanbags and pipe-circles of preschool? Jessica wasn’t going to make it. On her last days she’d have an accident and that’d be that. The perfect month that the grownups required of her would be shattered. No poops, no pees (excepting those that she did while asleep), or a preschooler she’d remain, and the halls of the junior dorm would be closed to her, for now. Any accident outside of nocturnal enuresis meant another month to prove she was big, another month to get that perfect score. She’d have to spend that next month here, in Preschool, with the rest of the proletariat who’d spend that saying “I told you so!”. It’d happened before, in fact, it happened often. Jim, one of her fellow perfect-monthers for this June, and a former tech executive with a sailor’s beard and hair halfway down his back, had had an accident in a month’s final stretches more than once. His aspirations had been dashed before, by none other than his own misbehaving bladder. He’d fallen from grace with a soggy pullup time and time again, and after years in the preschool, had never quite finished a perfect month.
There were other Preschool bourgeois in the cafeteria, because everyone who lived in the Preschool ate here, regardless if the average Preschooler thought that those like Jessica were better seated with a napkin folded into her collar, seated in smug leather in the grownup lounge. Her other undie aspirants were Jim (back at it again), Farah, and Gage. That was it, out of almost two-hundred Preschoolers. And that was more than last month. Last month there’d been only two; Meagan and Lawrence, and Meagan had already had her bottom flumped back to Preschool, into full on Todders and not even pullups on top of that. Megan, a tattooed lady with a penchant for e-cigarettes, had only made it a week in the Junior dorm before wetting herself twice. This itself didn’t disqualify her, but her subsequent accident while staffing changing tables in the Daycare did. Dirty undies were an instant ticket back to Preschool.
That was the second biggest rumor. Even if Jessica did finish June with immaculate pullups (her full morning diapers aside), she’d have no chance to last the month. She’d pull a Meagan, or a Gage before that. This wasn’t Gage’s first attempt to earn a spot in the luxurious Junior dorm either, and he’d had to prove himself with not one but two pristine pullups months to earn his upcoming berth to ‘big kid life.’ Every time one flunked out of the Junior dorm, the price to earn a new trip back was another perfect potty month. Meagan had had to complete three consecutive perfect potty months to earn her most recent promotion at the start of June, a promotion she’d overturned in just over a week. There were many more like her in the Preschool cafeteria, enjoying french toast and coffee and fruit cups. Many more failed attempts to be big, babies given up when what sat between them and their next berth to the junior dorm was a daunting two or three perfect potty months. Meagan claimed to be retired, that she was resigned to a life of wearing relatively thin but nonetheless taped-diaper Todders. Those many others, now giggling or groggy on the stools at the long and crowded tables, were satisfied that yet another aspirant had been pulled down to their level. They hoped for the same with Jessica.
Jessica sat alone for a while, and she was content. She had been early to the cafeteria that day and, knowing how standoffish her colleagues had become in recent weeks, had elected to sit alone when the groups at the cafeteria tables were just materializing. Now, more Preschoolers had emerged from the buffet line, tray in hand, and had opted to glom alongside the bigger groups like beads of water joining with larger water droplets after a rainfall. Some looked her ways and nodded off to larger groups, and some were simply loners, at least for breakfast. There were few times to be alone in the Preschool, despite how aloof life could be compared to the crowded chaos of the Daycare. Potty training class waited after breakfast for many, and morning chores for most of the rest. Sleep had been conducted for all in the company of a roommate; every Preschool dorm was a double, much like a typical freshperson in college might experience. That roommate had been chosen at random, this too much like it might be in college, sans any consideration of gender. At the very worst, one tossed and turned with someone fifteen feet away who one may not necessarily like. The opportunity to bring one’s tray to a disparate table and hunch over one’s pancakes to read or simply to relax was precious. Jessica usually did the same, and it was only a bit more often now because she knew how her colleagues would stiffen if she sat at one of the more crowded tables.
One Preschooler did emerge from the double doors of the buffet line and headed straight for her. She stood there at the entry, tray in hand, and scanned the room until her eyes fell on Jessica, and then she hurried over to pour herself some coffee. After the mug was balanced safely, she made the journey through the tables of the cafeteria and sat down across from Jessica.
“What’s up big girl?” she said. “May I sit here?”
“Yes you may, always,” Jessica said, pleased. The woman who arrived was named Jaclyn, and she’d been an old friend of Jessica. J & J, partners in silliness. Months ago, in December, when Jessica was still in the Daycare, the pair had met in potty class. They’d made fast friends as they’d shared secrets and crushes between the potty singalongs and the endless games of Simon Says. And after potty classes, they made time for each other, and they began to find each other in the busy Daycare cafeteria. They made crafts in the humongous playroom there. And when one of them had an accident and was sure she’d be ripped away from playtime to the large changing room in the Daycare, the other would relieve herself too, so to ensure if one was caught, the other would be, and even if they couldn’t play for a while, at least they could remain together.
That’d been Jessica’s worst month in her year’s time at Nurserton, at least training-wise, as it was the month when she’d only accumulated six measly stars for six desperate potty trips. Six is below the quota of ten to maintain a spot in Daycare, and nobody let her forget it (even to this day). She'd been safe, of course. Had she failed during the next month, she’d face placement into the dreaded Nursery, and thus she pulled it together the next month, though by a close enough margin that the tale of her near-Nursery life was certainly no unwarranted rumor.
That was not all that Jessica and Jaclyn shared, though. Their trajectories and sagas between the Preschool and the Daycare were mirrored. Jaclyn had been a flunked-Preschooler, and had been sent back to Daycare in the November for Jessica’s poor potty December. Jaclyn had been demoted after just two short months in the Preschool. Jessica had experienced the exact same thing; two short months in Preschool, and then back to Daycare. The only difference was that Jessica’s progression through her ups and downs occurred one month later than Jaclyn’s. They’d both been Preschoolers in October (October being Jessica’s first month in Preschool, and Jaclyn’s second and final month), though they’d never met in Preschool, at least not formally. They’d passed each other in the buffet line, or the cafeteria, or been changed side-by-side, but the Preschool always managed at least two hundred residents, and back then Jessica only knew of Jaclyn as ‘that other lady whose name begins with J who is also bottoming out on the lists.’ She’d look at the big LCDs in the Preschool halls by the cafeteria, or those mounted near the main changing area beside the Preschool’s big playroom. She’d look for her name, and she’d always be let down after realizing the first J was just for Jaclyn’s number. Back then, Jaclyn had been a steady two ahead of her, and every time Jessica would have to follow the list down further to find herself.
“How do I look?” Jaclyn asked, having already sat down.
“You mean, your butt?” Jessica asked.
“Yes, my butt. My crotch. Everything below my waist and above my knees, silly goose.”
Jessica looked her friend over. Jaclyn was a short lady, and made twenty six to Jessica’s twenty eight. All diapers looked big on her, even size-small Todders, the thin issue given to Preschoolers who hadn’t earned their pullups. Most Preschoolers, that is. “Yes, they’re obvious. Did they go on this morning?”
Jaclyn hardly looked surprised. Of course they were obvious. She feigned annoyance and snorted as she cut into her pancakes and drew some up for a bite. “It’s going to be too hot for jeans today, and I knew these shorts were too tight.”
“You could have worn a skirt.”
Her friend from November narrowed her eyes. “And how many times do you think someone is gonna lift that and show off Jaclyn’s big puffers,” she asked. By puffers, Jaclyn referred to Puffington Pluses, which were the flagship diapers of those sent to or living in Daycare. During the games of Sorry and Simon Says, in potty class so many months ago, both Jaclyn and Jessica had been wearing Puffington Pluses, along with everyone else in the room. They were also worn by Preschoolers who’d posted two uninspiring potty-star months, in their last days in the building, thrust upon them as symbols of unworthiness when the grownups had officially shut the door on any chance they had at maintaining their prestige. They were the official diapers of the Daycare-doomed. They were the diapers for stinkers.
Yes, neither woman was likely to stay in Preschool next month. Jessica could be held back with any accident in the next few days, yet there was nothing conditional with Jaclyn. Her time in Preschool was down to just the last few days of June until she too would have to pack her things in a cart and walk it all back to the massive Daycare building.
“Anyone who lifts your skirt would be in trouble.”
Jaclyn laughed. “And?”
Jessica shrugged. “Well, it’s better than everyone being super weird around you.”
Her friend considered this for a moment. “Well, you’ve got to admit, it is weird.”
“Potty training is weird?”
“No, dummy. Gosh sometimes you’re like the girl I met way back, when you were the littlest in the room.”
“Was not,” Jessica said. “I was second worst in that class.”
“You were second worst to Robbie,” Jaclyn said, leaning over the table. “Robbie is still in the Nursery, Robbie will always be in the nursery. That’s beating no-one, as far as I’m concerned. And you lost to Andrew and Amanda, who are both in the Nursery now, last I checked.”
“I lost to Amanda by one! One star.” But it was true, Amanda was hard in the Nursery. Not as hard as Robbie, but hard down there. At least as far as Jessica had heard. It was a dubious distinction for Jessica that she’d never shake. She had lost all track of Andrew, who had been nice and occasionally had played board games with them. They had never been close, and Jessica had felt that Andrew had just been too gay to ever really connect with women.
“So, you see. It’s weird. To be going from that to…well where you’re going. People are suspicious. People won’t like that someone so low is now wiping their butt and yanking them out of playtime or naptime to check them. You’re a big tattle. You’re a scab.”
“What’s a scab?”
Jaclyn finished chewing the last bite of her remaining pancake and placed the fruit cup in front of her. “You know, like picket breakers. They walk across the line and work for big bad corporations when the regular workers are striking.”
“I didn’t know Nurserton was on any sort of strike.”
Her friend laughed. “Hun, I’m on potty strike. You think I’ma let them put me in a Puffington Plus for three days and get made fun of in Preschool before getting demoted without making them work for it?”
“Fair.”
“I mean, it’s all just people playing a part, you know? They don’t actually hate you. They just…they know they’re supposed to be salty about being changed by someone they were once superior or equal to. They’re turned on by being mean so you can, you know, turn the tables and turn them on way more later.”
Jessica considered. Some of the eye-rolling done by other Preschoolers when she was on the potty or when she stood up from movie time or tea time to ask a grownup to take her to a potty, or when a grownup praised her during a check, seemed a bit more than playacting. And some of the teasing was vicious. Potty records were forever, unfortunately, and everyone knew about Jessica’s six-star December and her paltry eleven star January. “It seems like they really want me to fail.”
“I mean. What I’m saying goes for some. Some have been here long enough to really and actually consider becoming a Junior some form of elitism. I mean, you and I both are included in that, right? When you were on the brink, we both talked about going to the Nursery. You didn’t like using plastic potties in public and all that, but when we were thinking about Nursery life we realized that for all the bad in Daycare, going down there was too much. Just too crazy. Babyfood meals for breakfast?” Jaclyn lifted a strawberry and waved it on the end of her fork, as if to emphasize that it was not babyfood. “Breastfeeding? You know that’s where Robbie ended up. We both agreed that that kind of life was something else.”
“And what they perceive the most in you is their own littleness. They’re elitists despite, obviously, not being elite. Preschool isn’t the pinnacle, obviously, and they don’t like being reminded of that.”
“Neither is the Junior dorm, in case they forgot,” Jessica added. The grownups ruled. Juniors were just their diaper-changing deputies. Jessica would have the power to check and change anyone she liked, but not spank or punish. Her word would be worth more than the word of any baby, though, so if she tattled and the baby, including all the way up to a privileged Preschooler, disagreed, it would be her word as a Junior that would gain the benefit of the doubt.
“True. But that doesn’t matter because none of us can become grownups. So nobody thinks it counts.”
Jessica gulped down the last of her coffee, and agreed.
“And so, you’re showing them that they’re still not complete, that they’re gross babies, like we probably think of the Nursery ones. At least I do. I’m elitist like that. I’ll admit it.” When Jaclyn spoke, her eyes were sharp and twinkling. She had small features on her small body, but it seemed as if her body, given so little to work with, knew how to make the most of them. Jessica couldn’t see from across the table, but she knew that Jaclyn’s feet didn’t reach the floor from the stool, and were likely swinging in the air beneath her. “So they resent that a bit. Cause they care a lot.”
It was very obvious, and Jessica hadn’t thought of it that way before. Jealousy made sense, in the capacity that it was the emotion of jealousy that Jessica had detected in other Preschoolers as the weeks of perfection ticked on for her. But none of them were even bedwetters, to speak nothing of suffering from incontinence. Jessica didn’t have any tools that they did not to achieve her soon-to-be-status. Her path was easily theirs, if they wanted it. That had always been the problem with identifying jealousy. Jaclyn made her consider that Jessica’s choice to finish potty training reminded the other Preschoolers of their choice not to train, that what they felt for her was, in fact, not jealousy, but rather outright resentment. ‘How dare you,’ they were thinking. ‘If we all just agreed to get to this point of training, and no farther, we’d all be big kids. You had to go and separate yourself.’
“Didn’t we come here to not care about anything?”
Jaclyn, however, wasn’t listening. She had stopped chewing with her final strawberry halfway in her mouth. She was fixated hard in the distance, such that Jessica turned to see if there was any commotion at the tables behind her.
“Sorry, peeing.”
“No problem.”
They sat in silence for a moment, until Jaclyn exhaled and finished what remained of her final portion of breakfast.
“To Nurserton? Sure. In a sense,” Jaclyn smiled, as if nothing had occurred. “But you’ve been here almost a year. Don’t you know that when people have nothing to care about, they invent something to care about?”
And that was that for their conversation. The clock soon read 9am, and a bell rang, and that meant Potty Training time. Like December, they had drawn the same class. Not that this was as lucky as it had been in the Daycare…having the same class was a much more likely thing in Preschool because of the relative size of the second-most elite living condition at Nurserton. Elite, Jessica thought, as other Preschoolers in Todders and pullups waited to dissemble the plates and cups on their trays into the right washbins. Some still wore pacifiers hanging from their shirts, and some occasionally still wore onesies (this was more popular with those who had earned pullups, as a onesie was a great way to show that off). That latter fact backfired on one woman. While she was waiting to dispose of her tray, a grownup swooped in and patted her onesie-crotch and discovered the swollen pullup beneath. Jessica didn’t know her name, but she did know where the grownup was taking her as he whisked her off. It didn’t smell great there, and many of the Preschoolers scrunched their noses and grimaced at whomever had let their morning coffee affect them so fast. Yes, this sort of thing also still happened in Preschool, though far less frequently than in Daycare. It was actually spankable here, and the grownups were turning up every bottom to find who was responsible. Even Jessica got a check, though they found nothing but her crisp and dry pullup. Jaclyn, still holding her tray, had to tolerate her pants being tugged down in front of everyone. She kept her protest to an eyeroll. The grownups moved on through the crowd until settling on a man a few paces behind Jessica. She also did not know his name. He went the way of the girl in the wet pullup, though with his captor holding his wrist a bit tighter as he was dragged off.
Jaclyn hadn’t been wet enough to bother with, and the grownup who executed her diapercheck moved on from her quickly after helping her to pull her shorts back over her diaper. Jaclyn would instead be changed in potty class, but that was nothing to worry about. They would have to spend a few hours in that room regardless, and Jaclyn didn’t see any problem with spending that time on the table. So, once their trays were in the proper stack and their cups were in the bins and all their remaining food was scraped into the trash, Jessica and Jaclyn continued out of the cafeteria and onto potty training.
“The question really is,” Jaclyn said, leaning closer to Jessica when they were alone in the hallway. “Is becoming a Junior something you just care about for the sake of caring about it? Or are you going to be like Jim last month?”
