“Punishment?” Daniel squeaked. “But–”
“But what?” Rachel asked, leering down at him. “I made it very clear, didn’t I? You’ve got one toilet you’re allowed to use, and it’s the one taped up beneath your skirt.”
Cheeks turning pinker by the second, Daniel said, “Come on, I was just wandering down a back hall–I just got lost. I wasn’t even trying to find a toilet.”
“That’s not what I was told,” Rachel replied, taking a step closer and drawing out her wand. She let the ribbon trail behind her on the floor, tapping her chin with the index finger of her free hand while she thought. “But if you don’t want to use the toilet underneath your skirt, we can fix that.”
Daniel blinked. He knew it was a trap, but he had to ask. “Really?”
“Really,” She replied, flicking her wand. The ribbon lashed out, and when the long end brushed against the hem of his skirt, the garment began to come apart, threads falling loose and piling into a heap around his feet.
Diaper fully exposed, Daniel lowered his hands, trying to cover it–at least it was just him and Rachel in the hallway, but he knew that could change in an instant, and if anyone walked by, they’d see his diaper plain as day.
When he’d first put it on, Daniel had hated how short the miniskirt was–it offered no modesty, it didn’t cover anything, it practically wasn’t there!
Now, he was strongly considering dropping to his knees to beg for it back for the tiny concealment it offered–if he thought that would actually get Rachel to agree, instead of pushing her towards further torment.
“Now,” Rachel continued. “There are two options here, that I see. The first is, you were really looking for a big boy potty, because you were just so desperate to go that you weren’t thinking straight. If that’s the case, then I think you’ve learned your lesson. You tried to go, I took your skirt, we’re all square.”
“O-okay,” Daniel said, blushing. “Sure. Fine.”
“On the other hand,” Rachel continued, “I know you’re a troublemaker who likes to find ways to cheat, and there’s a whole lot of bad you could get up to in the faculty halls. I know you’re not that stupid, which leads me to assume the whole ‘looking for a toilet’ spiel that you sold that lady was just something you cooked up to get out of worse trouble.”
Daniel swallowed. “No, that’s not it. I–I was just looking for a toilet. I just really had to go. That’s it, I swear.”
Smirking, Rachel stepped back, making enough room that she could look down at the front of his diaper. “Had to, or have to? You’re still all sparkly clean and dry, spark.”
“I mean…” Daniel said, trailing off. “Erm.”
“You want me to believe your fairy tale about looking for a bathroom?” Rachel asked, smile spreading as her point became clear. “I’m going to need you to prove it.”
“Uh…” he said, looking down. “Um. Er. Oh.”
She was going to make him wet himself, right then and there, without even the dignity of the miniskirt.
“That’s not fair,” Daniel sputtered. “Are you–come on. You can’t just make me do whatever you want.”
“I’m not making you do anything, spark,” Rachel insisted. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been disciplined…as long as you’re not trying to get away with anything, and a dirty diaper will prove you’re not trying to get away with anything. Besides–you’re going to have to use it sooner or later.”
He could tell she was bending the rules, but it’s not like he had any recourse.
Looking up at the ceiling, Daniel’s face grew redder and redder as he focused on getting his bladder to obey. It was just about the worst possible circumstances for this–he didn’t have to go that much to begin with, his body had been conditioned over two decades of potty training to absolutely not, ever, under any circumstances, pee while he had any sort of underwear on. The leering, giggling audience didn’t help at all either–Every amused titter set him back to square one, undercutting all his efforts to self-humiliate.
Wriggling, shifting from foot to foot, he focused on controlling his body, willing it into compliance.
Nothing.
“I can’t…” he said, shyly. “Not because I don’t need to, just…if you’re watching, and stuff.”
“Really?” Rachel asked, glancing back at the doors. “Maybe you need a bigger audience.”
Taking a step back, Daniel raised his hands defensively. “No, no, I just–I can’t get my body to…y’know.”
“So, what you’re saying,” Rachel clarified, looking back and raising an eyebrow at him. “Is that you need something to compel your body a bit.” She raised her wand up to about waist height, letting it dangle to the side, so that the ribbon just barely trailed on the floor, and started walking, slowly, towards him.
Daniel raised his hands even higher, almost as though shielding against an attack, and took a step back. His back bumped into the far wall, and he felt cool marble on his exposed legs. The last thing he wanted was this girl messing around in his head, laying compulsions on him. “Rachel, listen, whatever you’re thinking–stop. Stop.”
She kept moving, walking towards him, savoring his fearful stammering.
Magic sparkled down the length of her ribbon wand, and as she got up to him, grinning like a shark, she flicked out a spell. Daniel flinched, shut his eyes, and tried to shield his thoughts from whatever magic she was going to throw at him.
Instead, all he felt was the grip on his wrist, and a slightly warm, damp sensation on his hand.
Opening one eye, he looked anxiously down. Rachel had conjured a bowl of warm water, and was holding his hand in it. Relaxing, he looked up, and then tensed again when he saw her expression–pure condescension.
“What?” she asked with sneering innocence. “I don’t need to mess with your brain to make you pee your pants. That’s like enchanting a hog to roll in mud–you just need the slightest encouragement.”
And, to his embarrassment, she was right. The need to pee had gone up considerably, and with a nervous chuckle, Daniel was finally able to overcome his bladder’s practiced resistance against self-humiliation.
Rachel laughed right in his face. “Oh my god, you’re pathetic.”
“I–okay.” Daniel surrendered, shrinking beneath her. “That proves it, right?”
She stepped back, sneering. “Oh, not even a little. You were struggling there–and besides, you’re not that dumb. If you were looking for a toilet, it’s not because you had to kinda-sorta pee.”
(She can’t mean…) Refusing to say it out loud, Daniel just stammered, “So, I…what?”
“Either your excuse stinks,” Rachel said. “Or your diapers do. Your choice.”
“I can’t,” he said, immediately. “Peeing was hard enough, how am I supposed to…do that?”
Raising an eyebrow, the prefect asked, “Do you need more help?”
Daniel weighed the question, and his options. Whatever punishment Rachel held in store, it would have to be worse than just…using his diaper.
He still wouldn’t think about it in more specific terms than ‘using’, let alone the ‘P’ word.
If she had free reign, she’d probably think up some awful torture, or just get him expelled. It would be better to just suck it up now. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he doubted he could go on his own. The bowl of water hadn’t been so bad.
So, as much as he hated to say it, Daniel nodded and looked at Rachel. “I need more help.”
“Aww,” she cooed, like he was an infant struggling to say the word ‘Potty’. “No, you’ve got to be more specific.”
“I…” he fumbled for words. “I need help using my diaper.”
He regretted it instantly–Rachel smiled. She was loving his resistance, it gave her more leverage to mock him. “You already used your diaper. Now, use your words and tell me what you need.”
“Are you fucking–I need help to poop,” he said, glaring–
Rachel flicked her wand, and he felt immediately woozy, wobbling, like he might fall over if he didn’t spend all his concentration on staying upright. Rachel circled him, taunting, finally stopping right in front, making eye contact with him. “Thanks for that–I can’t get in trouble if you asked, and it’s easier to get into heads with an invitation.”
She raised her wand, and he stumbled. Again, his back pressed against the wall, but this time, instead of standing straight, he slid down it, dropping until he was in a low, wide crouch. He couldn’t stop himself–if he wanted to retain his dignity, he had to fight off the compulsion, and Rachel’s efforts had frayed his mental state.
This had been deliberate.
(Holy shit,) Daniel thought, with the tiny, analytical part of his brain that never really shut up. (She’s–she’s good.)
On the fly compulsions were hard magic. In a rigorous academic setting, like the entry exam, an anti-cheat compulsion didn’t strike him as anything unusual, but this sort of overt mind-fuck was above and beyond. He’d never heard of a witch pulling off an instant compulsion without a coven to back her up, but Rachel hadn’t just nailed the technical side of the magic, she’d nailed him. Mixing fear and submission around his brain, playing with his headspace long before she got into his actual head, making him ask, all so that she’d be able to puppeteer him however she liked.
And now that she was in, he couldn’t get her out. Resisting compulsions required a foundation, and she’d washed away his foundation like a sandcastle at high tide.
His body, under Rachel’s control, pushed. He couldn’t resist, he couldn’t even break eye contact with Rachel as he bottomed out his diaper, emptying his bowels like a toddler that didn’t want to walk all the way to the nearest bathroom.
The seat of his diaper swelled and sagged. It took a moment for the smell to waft up to his nose, but that hit him too a moment later. Under Rachel’s control, he couldn’t pinch his nose or try to fight it, so he just took deep, steady breaths, an occasional unconscious grunt escaping his lips.
Finally, Rachel released the magic, returning control to his body in an instant, and he fell back. Landing on his butt, all his weight pressed down on the new load of mush, squelching it against him, a particularly intense sensory reminder of what he’d just asked to do.
“Alright.” Rachel looked down on him in every sense imaginable, and her true feelings showed plainly: She had enjoyed this, sure, but more than that, she did it because she resented him with every fiber of her being. Disdain bordering on hatred. “That should do it. Do you need help finding your seat, too?”
He wasn’t so gullible as to answer in the affirmative. Pushing back up, Daniel brushed off his top, blushed, and shook his head. “I’m good.”
He walked up the doors, then hesitated. A part of him wanted to run back to his room, to skip orientation completely, to change his diaper and hide, but his pride ran too strong. If he ran, he’d be giving Rachel what she wanted.
Then again, if he showed off his diaper to the whole student body, she’d probably be okay with that outcome too.
Maybe it was better to just slink away in shame, and try to get a recap later. There’d be some important announcements, but the meeting wasn’t mandatory, and–
The doors flew open, framing him perfectly in the hallway, making a bang loud enough to draw the attention of the entire hall. Behind him, a moment later, he heard a quiet snicker from Rachel–of course she wasn’t going to let him decide for himself.
All eyes fell on him, the singular male student, probably the only man in the entire facility, blushing furiously in the door frame. Even if anyone didn’t recognize his face, after tonight they’d know him by reputation.
His reputation. His chance to establish who he was. Rachel had stolen that out from under him, undermining any chance he may have had to get out and ahead of the humiliation she’d forced him into.
Everyone in the school knew him first in two ways: He was a boy who’d insisted on coming to a girl’s school, and he wore sodden, sagging, smelly diapers.
Rachel had wanted to break him, and in that moment, it almost worked. He almost, almost turned to flee, running back to his dorm, or perhaps running all the way back home, through the apparation gate, pretending this whole thing was just a bad dream.
But…that would be worse. Things that happened within this school wouldn’t stay here forever. This would be apart of his permanent reputation, no matter where he went, if he didn’t do something right then and there.
So, he turned and looked back at Rachel, and projected his voice loudly enough that a few girls could hear:
“You really enjoyed making me do this, didn’t you?”
There. It was a paper defense, but better than nothing–he’d established that this wasn’t his own choice, that he hadn’t intended on giving the student body of Alphabeta a show.
Then, turning, he held his head high and began his march into the grand hall. Every part of him burned with humiliation, but so long as he didn’t show it, so long as he pretended he didn’t care about the drooping diaper squelching between his thighs with every step, maybe someone would believe him.
Just his luck, he’d come in near the front of the hall. Girls in uniforms had already filled up every available seat nearby, wanting to get as close to the stage as possible, so he couldn’t just slip into a nearby chair–he had to walk the length of the room, marching along to the sound of whispers and giggles, a one-man parade for the student body’s amusement.
Jen, at least, didn’t laugh. Spotting him, she raised a hand, signaling that she’d saved him a seat. Daniel almost took a closer, easier spot, just so he could sit down and slump down out of everyone’s view, but she wasn’t much further away, so he took the extra ten steps to get next to her.
“Wow,” Jen said, as he sat, “What happened to your skir…oh, you…ew. Oh. Ew. Why’d you use your diaper?”
“Rachel,” Daniel said, simply, not bothering to keep his voice low. “Prefect. She hit me with a compulsion, I guess that’s Alphabeta’s version of ‘discipline’.”
He noticed, only then, that the woman at the podium of the room hadn’t resumed her speech. A second after that, he also noticed that the speaker was the dean herself, Penelope Madrigal, and she was staring right at him.
“Ahem,” she said. “If that’s all the interruptions.”
Most of the students didn’t giggle, but enough did that it could be described as a chorus.
“As I was saying, and he so nicely demonstrated,” the dean continued, “this year, a man has managed to enter the ranks of our alumni. We’re revising the application process to ensure this sort of misconduct doesn’t happen again, but for now, he’s to be treated just as you would treat any other student. Any attempts noticed by staff to harass or haze him outside of sanctioned university discipline for misbehavior will not be tolerated.”
(Noticed by staff,) Daniel considered. That could just be a bit of unfortunate phrasing, but the more obvious interpretation stuck out in his head–it’s okay for students to harass and haze him, just don’t be too obvious about it so that the staff can turn a blind eye. He couldn’t be certain, but it certainly seemed like Ms. Madrigal was painting a target on his back.
“And, as of course you all know, mocking other students or making jokes related to medical conditions or disability is not tolerated on the grounds of Alphabeta,” the dean continued. “Were Mr. Aster incontinent, that rule would apply to him, too.”
Okay, that was pretty unambiguous–even if she hadn’t outright said it, she’d just given the thumbs up to mockery and jokes, making it clear that he wasn’t protected by their anti-bullying rules.
Rachel had teed him up for this, exposing his diapers to the room, and Ms. Madrigal had swung with perfect aim, working together to make his educational experience as humiliating as possible without violating the rules.
They were working together.