Premium Story #11: How Long Can You Hold It? (Part II: The Hunt)
🕑 Added 2025-11-11 19:22:16 +0000 UTC
Premium Story #11: How Long Can You Hold It? (Part II: The Hunt)
(Sequel to ‘Premium Story #2: How Long Can You Hold It? (Part I: A Conspiracy of Curses)’)
(Content Tags: Supernatural/magical elements and setting, public humiliation, diapers, messing, wetting, revenge, ongoing story)
The incident in the classroom had become something to whisper and snicker about throughout the halls of the academy. The great prodigy, whose bright eyes only met most of the student's chests, had been soundly disgraced in a most befitting moment of utter humiliation. The little boy, wise far beyond his years, had shown everyone just how little he truly was, by bearing his padded bottom and befouling himself like a hapless tot.
Only the conspirators knew the truth of the matter. Only the terrible trio of crude bullies could be expected to explain how an alleged genius of the magical arts had been reduced to soiling himself, or why a boy his age had been returned to diapers in the first place. While credit would have been nice, it wasn't credit that they longed to receive; it was more helpful to their cause for everyone else to believe this was Vim Cloverleaf's natural state, and that he'd just somehow hid it until now.
Was there evidence to the contrary? Indeed there was. Vim's short-hemmed robe had upskirted him multiple times during broom practice, or while learning advanced wind magic, and the juvenile prints seen hadn't been put on anything as thick as a nappy. He also shared a dormitory with a child of one of the professors, and that loudmouthed brat had never made any immature claims about poor toileting. Knowing what an incorrigible scamp he was, it felt unlikely that the child would keep his mouth shut about something so juicy.
So rumors were abound about the nature of the event. Some people thought that Vim had been using illusionary spells up until that point, some thought he'd had an incantation misfire during his practices, and some claimed that the pressure of matching his adult peers had simply caused him to crack like an egg.
Nobody seemed to think that it was something that had been done to him, that it was a cavalcade of curses that had conspired to humiliate him. The rules of such magical warfare between students were strict, and nobody wanted to risk expulsion from such a prestigious institution.
The immediate aftermath of the afternoon had been chaos incarnate. A classroom full of young adults, all left gawking at the sight of their resident prodigy making a prodigious production inside his plush padding; a plump pile of what could only be poop, in crinkling Pampers more befitting of a toddler. It had been loud, and it had been undignified, and it had been for everyone to see.
Gaol Gundersen, the greedy opportunist that he was, had decided to use the cacophony of laughter to his advantage; it hadn't been a part of their plan, and the risk likely didn't match the reward, but he used an additional incantation before their prey could flee the room. Enlarge and shrink.
That particular combination spell would take matter from one object, therefore shrinking its size, and combine it with another object, therefore making it grow. In this use case, he aimed it true, and as a result?
The puffy diaper grew thicker and more cumbersome, while the robe shrank upwards to show even more of the infantile undergarment off. It was subtle enough to not be immediately identifiable as magic, but it was far more sloppy than their initial trinity of curses had been.
It would be that final middle finger against the boy, that would ultimately prove to become the trio's undoing.
The curses had been carefully crafted, spun with the intention of pure anonymity; a curse was already a much more difficult arcane program to analyze and decipher than a normal spell, but the three young men had gone further to scrub their personal residues from them. A simple object manipulation though? And cast upon two different objects simultaneously? That left a little more to look at.
Where had Vim gone after the incident? The boy's mind had been cluttered by an aura of shame that he'd never once felt before that day. His magical talents, unprecedented for a sorcerer of his age, had always left him feeling confident and able; there hadn't been reasons to feel embarrassed or incompetent, not in any serious way at least.
His toddling steps had led him out of the clamorous classroom, the laughter of his fellow students deafening and the disappointment from his professor palpable, and he'd thoughtlessly traveled the hallway beyond, just in search of a place he could hide his face.
Every waddling inch further was a compounding of his indignity; the hot excrement that weighed down his undergarments felt like a thousand pounds, with every movement heaving the load up and down, like being atop a bucking horse. He could feel it squishing and squelching all throughout, spreading to whatever clean corners might still exist inside the bloated diaper.
Diaper. Thinking that word was itself a grave misdeed against his pride. A magical prodigy like him should never have been needing to use such a word, and a genius like him should certainly never have been using such a word to describe his own underwear.
But when his thoughts desperately searched for the alternative, they came up empty handed. He'd always worn briefs, had he not? Thinner garments of cotton, adorned with garish garnishes of colorful pictures. A garb that certainly wasn't well capable of holding the tidal floods of his bladder, or the mudslides of his bowels. How could he wear such a thing, if it wasn't up to snuff with containing his evacuations?
It felt like a very strange paradox in his head. He knew that the diaper felt wrong, but he also no longer had any memory of ever using a toilet, so he couldn't understand why he hadn't been diapered all along. The contradiction tore at him, ravaging his thoughts endlessly with every squishy step forward.
His first destination, far from the campus, had been his dormitory. The magical college was adjoined by the lower grades of the academy across the plains; while the adults walked the halls of the higher institute, all other younger ages were relegated to the prestigious schools far on the other end of the massive plateau that housed the various institutions of learning.
By foot, traveling between the different campuses would easily take hours, but by broom it was only a ten minute commute. There was the other option, of teleportation by established portals, but that would require permission, and Vim had no desire to talk to any authorities in his current state of distress. Other than that, he was afraid that teleportation might have consequences, due to the extra 'organic matter' he was hauling around behind him.
So broom was the way to go. Once outside, he conjured one and straddled it, wincing as he felt the warm mush being pressed firmly against his backside and groin. The lift that he gave the broom, with a simplistic incantation of movement and wind, pressed the broomstick more tautly against the bulging seat of the diaper.
He would take to the air, before anyone else could spot him, and within minutes, he was already halfway across the vast magical plains. The college sat atop a much taller hill than the rest of the schools, so he would make a steady descent, all while his head was filled with questions.
Abandoning the rest of his classes for the day would not be without consequences, and that was on top of whatever consequences might arise from his public befouling of his undergarments. His allowance into the adult school had been unprecedented on many levels, and the headmaster had already made his concerns well known to Vim. The boy was smart and talented, but he was still just that, and his maturity being called back into question could he calamitous.
His youth was the reason that he even had to commute, and why he was now soaring through the sky. One condition of his education had been that he stay housed among students who matched his age, rather than his ability, because the alternative would have been either sticking him with a young adult who wouldn't want him around, or sticking him with one of the professors that lived on campus, which he himself hadn't cherished the thought of.
Thus, he still lived with the snot-nosed brats of the younger group, and unfortunately for him, he had been saddled with the bratty son of one of his professors, as that was one of the few who was granted access to the portal that led to the college. It was an unfortunate pairing, especially since his roommate was such an obnoxious product of nepotism, but he'd managed well enough so far.
This current predicament wasn't well suited for having an onlooker like his roommate, but if his pocket watch was correct, then the whelp should still have been in class for another couple of hours. So Vim snuck back onto the elementary campus, and he tugged at the back of his robe, hoping to better hide his shame.
In a better state of mind, the wizard may have instead opted to transmute his cloak into something longer, or to cast some manner of illusion to hide the diaper, but he'd already been shaky enough flying back home. Magic required a calm train of thought, and he was as far from calm as could be.
With so many of the students still in class, the halls leading to the dorms were thankfully bare, and he was able to duck from any adults wandering the premises. He didn't have to fumble around for a key or anything, since every door was magically attuned to open for the correct occupants, so he only had to put his hand on the doorknob for it to open right up.
The room was an even split between the two boys inhabiting it: Vim's side was orderly and mature, while his roommate's side was a mess of clothes, papers, and toys. It was a perfect reflection of how contrary their personalities and priorities were; one was comfortable taking refugee in their own childhood, while one pretended to be a little adult.
Vim let the door close behind him, and before anything else, he toddled over to the full-size mirror to see how badly he'd messed up. Even from the front, the bottom of his diaper was hanging down, and as he turned to look over his shoulder, he was horrified at how much worse things were in back. Over half of his poopy diaper, and it was undeniably poopy from sight alone, was showing to the world! How had that happened? Why was his cloak so poorly hiding things? The diaper was huge, sure, and his cloak was short, but this...?
Vim put a hand on the back of it. Still warm, and as he weighed it in his palm, he was gobsmacked at how completely he had managed to pack it. This was more than a normal BM, this was something much more substantial!
His nose wrinkled at the fumes beginning to waft up from below; the smell had been a problem before, but now that he was still and in the confines of the small room, it was becoming really noticeable. Just another embarrassment to add to the pile though, just another indignity in his situation.
He raised his arms, took a deep breath, and whispered an incantation of levitation; his robe started to rise, until it was off his meager body, and was instead left hovering in the air. Vim took a closer look at the robe, taking note it looked like it had shrunk a little bit, especially in the back.
Vim stroked his chin and waved his hand over the fabric, to cast a spell of analysis. He was pretty sure the material had been manipulated by someone, and he wanted to know exactly who.
In the meantime, he waddled over to the mahogany dresser that was shared between the boys. His mind was fuzzy on certain details, and he needed to be sure that he wasn't crazy. Vim pulled out one of the drawers and looked a little relieved to see it was full of his socks and underwear.
That was proof that the diaper was an abnormality, even if he couldn't consider an alternative location where he would normally void his waste. If he didn't usually poop in a diaper, which he was pretty sure he didn't, then where did he do it? The briefs in the drawer had very little in terms of stains or blemishes, so he was pretty confident that he didn't do his business in them, unless he spent his weekends performing purification spells on them.
He shook his head, that line of questioning would need to wait. The ripe sack around his waist, sagging warmly between his pale thighs, was a great deal more important to expend his efforts upon. Vim had never changed a diaper, let alone a poopy one, so the task was daunting, but the thought of seeking out assistance was too mortifying to imagine.
His hands lowered to the front of the garment, where the tapes clung tautly in place, and he tried to rip one, but...
He couldn't do it. His fingers just sat uselessly at the wings of the diaper, as if unwilling to proceed any further. Something inside of him was screaming for him to stop, that it was forbidden for him to untape the diaper, that it simply wasn't his place.
How very peculiar.
If his hands wouldn't cooperate, then he'd need to take a less direct method. The boy whispered another incantation, and his hands began to seemingly move on their own; the spell being used was typically used on someone else, to gain control of their hands and to give simple commands, but there wasn't any reason it couldn't be used on his own. It was a trick he'd learned back in his earlier years, whenever he had wanted to take notes on one subject, while really focusing his attention on another.
In a roundabout way, it was essentially giving predetermined commands to a body part, so that the mind didn't actively have to do so, like a rudimentary autopilot. The same could be done for his legs, if he wanted to walk somewhere far while already being tired.
His little fingers grabbed more decisively at the tapes this time, not blocked by any psychological barriers, but the overall problem persisted; no matter how hard his hands pulled at the tapes, or the sides, he couldn't make the nappy budge one inch. The garment was abnormal, it appeared locked by magic.
That was really unfortunate, not just because it meant he'd be staying dirty for longer than expected, but because it meant he might need to seek the aid of someone with more arcane experience.
He bit his lip and considered his options here. No part of him wanted to include another in cracking this enigma, not when the subject was so embarrassing, but what else could he do? What manner of ward was placed on this ridiculous garb?
Something flashed in his mind, like a mantra that had been implanted: 'I can't change my own stinky diapee, I'm not big enough. Someone else needs to do it.'
The sorcerer cringed, and he wondered where that train of thought had come from, but it felt very true to him. Even if it didn't feel like it was his own, it did feel like a fact. Perhaps that was the key here? His own hands were incapable of removing it, but maybe someone else wouldn't have the prohibition? Who could he trust to help?
A whistling came from the robe that had been left hovering, and Vim turned his attention to it; the mystic analysis had come to a conclusion, so he decided to put the diaper debacle on hold and check out the results.
In the glow of the aura, there was an image that started to appear; his spell of determination had been mixed with one of scrying, so the person whose magical residues lingered on the cloak would be revealed to him:
It was... Gaol Gundersen, one of the young men from his class.
Vim scowled at the sight, and anger bubbled up from within him. There wasn't any definitive proof that the diaper, or the messing, or the mental fog, had come from the same source, but the shrinking of the cloak was definitely from his hand. If nothing else, the older teenager was at least guilty of amplifying Vim's humiliation, and he'd done it with such speed, that it felt very likely he'd known it was coming.
"Okay...Reveal to me any similar residues in the room; connect likenesses, no matter how faint." He commanded the glow.
The light around the robe warped and warbled, until a beam of light shot out and hit his diaper, like connecting a chain. The boy's frown grew deeper and he read the glyphs that lit up in the scrying sphere: material manipulation, the same exact spell used on the robe.
The robe had been made smaller, and that material had been used to make the diaper bigger. Still not evidence itself that the whole thing had been at Gaol's hands, but more than enough evidence that he'd been involved somehow in Vim's humiliation. Once he found a way to get the diaper off of himself, then he'd be able to give it a deeper analysis too, and hopefully that'd help confirm his suspicions.
While his anger bubbled up, a warmth started to pool around his crotch, and Vim looked down in shock to see the front of the diaper slowly starting to swell up. Was he really peeing his pants so freely? Had his bladder even informed him it needed to be emptied? ...Did it ever? Any thoughts of bodily control, at least when narrowed down to his bladder or bowels, felt like a dark spot in his mind. He simply couldn't remember having any mastery over those functions! At least not one any more developed than what a toddler was capable of...
He gritted his teeth and crossed his legs pathetically, as if that might ebb the stream, but it didn't. "Gaol Gundersen...Y-you snake! If you're responsible, then...Then I'm going to make you suffer tenfold! T-this is so embarrassing..."
Gaol would become his first prey, and from him, Vim hoped to find answers. Anyone and everyone who had a hand in this degradation would be punished by his hand in the most excruciating way possible! Vim would become a vengeful hunter of men, and the hunt had officially begun!
...But first, he'd have to get this diaper changed, and in addition, he would now have to worry about the fact that he heard the doorknob to the dorm turning to open.
