Chapter 14 — Runes & Bliss

The disparity in treatment at Littlewick Academy, even within Ruby House, was starkly evident. Elara bore the brunt of the most extreme control measures, a fact that never ceased to unsettle Quinn. She could still recall her own rocky introduction to the school’s humiliating rituals—the first time she’d been forced into diapers, the sickening realization of having to use them. It had been mortifying, a complete stripping of dignity. But then she’d learned that Elara had been put into diapers before even arriving at the academy, a preemptive measure of control that made Quinn’s own ordeal seem almost tame by comparison.

Even after enduring her own degrading moments—being coerced into sexual acts for her ‘Daddy’ Darian, submitting to his demands for the promise of rewards or merely to avoid punishment—Quinn couldn’t help but feel a pang of relief when she witnessed Elara’s public humiliations. Seeing Elara forced to nurse that massive bottle of some unknown, cramp-inducing formula, and worse, made to soil herself in the dining hall while being goaded into declaring herself a ‘poopy baby’ in front of everyone… it put Quinn’s struggles into perspective. As degrading as her own experiences were, she didn’t have it nearly as bad as Elara.

That thought offered little comfort now, though, as Quinn lay in her crib, the soft bars casting faint shadows across her in the dim light of their shared dorm. Beside her, Elara was sound asleep in her own crib, oblivious to the world after another exhausting day of Selena’s relentless control. Quinn, however, was wide awake, teetering on the edge of filling her diaper. Her stomach churned with an all-too-familiar pressure, a slow-building torment orchestrated by Darian.

Unlike the rapid, brutal effect of whatever Selena had laced Elara’s formula with earlier, Darian’s methods with Quinn were more drawn-out but no less calculated. He had a knack for timing his little ‘treats’—special meals or drinks laced with something—so that the need would strike just as she was settled into bed for the night. The result was inevitable: she’d have no choice but to lie in her mess until morning, trapped in the thick padding with no reprieve. Of course, magic ensured hygiene wasn’t an issue; enchantments woven into the diapers prevented rashes or infections no matter how long one stewed in their filth. She could theoretically remain in a soiled diaper for days, even weeks, without physical harm—a fact that made the psychological torment all the more excruciating.

Another cramp twisted through Quinn’s abdomen, sharper this time, and she frowned, biting her lip to stifle a small groan. The magical rune etched over her tummy—a delicate design of swirling lines visible only when it activated—fluttered and twirled in response to her body’s impending surrender. It seemed to mock her, glowing faintly as if eager for her to give in to the inevitable. She shifted slightly, the crinkle of her diaper loud in the quiet room, trying to find a position that might ease the growing discomfort, but there was no escaping it.

Her thoughts drifted back to Elara’s worst punishments as a bitter comparison. Selena was on another level entirely. Quinn still shuddered at the memory of Elara being forced to wear the same soiled diaper for an entire week—a full seven days of unrelenting degradation. The thought alone made Quinn gag, bile rising in her throat at the sheer horror of it. The longest she herself had ever been left in her own mess was a single day, and even that had felt like a living hell—trapped in the warm, squelching filth. She couldn’t fathom enduring six more days of such torment as Elara had.

Another wave of pressure gripped her, and Quinn clenched her fists against the soft mattress of her crib, fighting against nature and magic alike. Her breathing grew shallow, knowing full well she wouldn’t win this battle for long. Darian’s face flashed in her mind, his gruff voice praising her for obedience or chiding her for resistance, always ensuring she knew who held power over even this most basic aspect of her body. Resigned, she let out a small whimper, feeling the first signs of release creeping closer despite her efforts. The rune pulsed brighter for a moment, almost triumphant, as she braced herself to spend yet another night stewing in humiliation, all while envying Elara’s oblivion in sleep just a few feet away.

She knew what awaited if she didn’t comply with the expectations set upon her, she would be enduring the raw humiliation of soiling herself without any reprieve, left to stew in her own mess with no relief. The thought alone was unbearable, a suffocating weight that pushed her toward her inevitable choice.

Turning over in her crib, she fumbled through the soft bedding until her fingers brushed against the familiar plush of the stuffed bear Daddy Darian had given her. Her hand traced down its arm to the small ribbon tied around its wrist, leading to the pacifier bound to it. Unlike Selena, whose methods with Elara seemed bent on forcing a state of perpetual, degrading babyhood with no mercy, Darian’s approach with Quinn was laced with a different kind of manipulation. He dangled rewards alongside the humiliations, conditioning her to associate submission with pleasure, a twisted carrot to accompany the stick.

Another sharp cramp ripped through her, and Quinn whimpered, her eyes fixed on the pacifier as she teetered on the edge of losing control. She had mere moments before her body would betray her. With a resigned sigh, she brought the pacifier to her lips and slipped it into her mouth. Instantly, she felt a shift—the pacifier seemed to morph, molding itself to fit perfectly, a subtle magic locking it in place so she couldn’t remove it even if she tried. At the same moment, the rune over her abdomen pulsed in sync with her racing heartbeat, a rapid thrum that echoed through her core.

It was as if a dam had burst within her, hormones flooding her system in a rush that made her head spin. Quinn had learned through painful trial and error that embracing these infantile acts—sucking on a pacifier, cuddling her bear, pooping her diaper—triggered bountiful rewards from the rune’s magic. She could choose to lie there, resisting as an adult forced into degrading circumstances, suffering through the torment of soiling herself… or she could swallow her pride, play the part of a baby, and reap the intoxicating benefits Daddy had woven into this game.

The rune pulsed again, stronger this time, and Quinn let out a muffled moan behind the pacifier. The magic woven into it silenced her—babies should be seen, not heard, after all. Her body responded immediately, a heat blooming deep within as she squirmed in the crib, the thick padding of her diaper crinkling loudly beneath her. Her sex grew moist, anticipation slickening her inner folds as her clit throbbed with need. The quivering sensation intensified, each pulse of the rune sending electric tingles up her spine, stoking a fire she couldn’t extinguish on her own.

Behind the pacifier, Quinn gurgled and mumbled incoherently, drool escaping the corners of her mouth as she surrendered to the role. The rune thrummed in rhythm with her escalating desire, pushing her libido higher and higher. Her nipples hardened beneath the soft fabric of her onesie, twin peaks pressing against the material as waves of arousal coursed through her. Instinctively, she tried to grind herself into the thick diaper, hips rocking against the padded bulk between her thighs. She knew from experience that physical touch would do nothing but tease—only Daddy’s direct intervention could grant true release—but it was an automatic response, a desperate attempt to chase even a sliver of satisfaction.

Her body writhed within the confines of the crib, hands clutching at the bedding as she fought against the maddening edge she was being held at. Every movement made the diaper rub against her sensitive skin, amplifying the wet heat pooling at her core while offering no relief. The rune's pulses were relentless now, each beat driving her closer to an invisible peak she couldn’t reach without permission, leaving her trapped in a cycle of building need. Muted whines escaped around the pacifier as she arched against nothing, craving more yet knowing it was out of reach. For now, she could only squirm helplessly under the weight of magical control, caught between humiliation and unfulfilled desire.

Quinn’s body trembled in the crib, every nerve alight with a desperate, aching need that the rune teased mercilessly. She babbled incoherently around the pacifier, her muffled gurgles and childish noises echoing the babyish behavior she’d learned to perform, hoping for the sweet release that used to come so easily. But tonight, despite her efforts—sucking fervently on the pacifier, clutching her stuffed bear, and squirming in exaggerated infant-like motions—the rune held her teetering on the edge of ecstasy, refusing to let her tip over. Her body lay poised on the precipice of orgasm, so tantalizingly close yet maddeningly out of reach. Her sex throbbed, slick with arousal, as her inner walls clenched against nothing, desperate for fulfillment that wouldn’t come.

She knew deep down what she had to do. The rune’s demands—and by extension, Daddy Darian’s expectations—had been escalating over time. Each act of submission required more of her, stripping away further layers of dignity to earn the rewards she craved. She’d sensed this shift coming, had hoped against hope she was wrong, but in this moment, with her body screaming for release and another cramp twisting through her gut, she didn’t care. Pride was a distant memory; all that mattered was ending this unbearable torment.

With a shaky breath muffled behind the pacifier, Quinn flipped over onto her tummy, assuming the ‘tummy time position’ Daddy often encouraged during play sessions, a posture of complete infantile vulnerability. Her padded bottom stuck up slightly, the thick diaper crinkling. Clenching her fists into the soft mattress, she made the conscious choice to push, to surrender fully to Ruby House’s vision of her as nothing more than a helpless baby. If she waited for her body to give in naturally, the rune would sense the lack of intent and deny her.

No, she had to choose this humiliation.

Immediately, her stomach churned with a deep, gurgling intensity, and she felt the rump of her diaper expand as warm mess pressed into the tight confines, spreading against her skin.

“Poopiesssss,” she mumbled around the pacifier, drool slipping past her lips as she forced out the slurred word, embracing every ounce of degradation the act demanded.

In that instant, the rune exploded with power. A searing heat bloomed across her abdomen where the magical mark rested, radiating outward as if igniting every nerve in her body. Her mind shattered under the force of it as she was thrust over that elusive edge into a tidal wave of unrelenting bliss. What she’d thought was a cliff of pleasure turned out to be merely a stepping stone; the rune carried her onward and upward to heights she’d never fathomed possible. A whimper escaped through the silencing magic of the pacifier, her eyes fluttering wildly in pure, unadulterated ecstasy as wave after wave crashed through her.

Her sex pulsed frantically, inner walls spasming with each cresting orgasm as slick heat soaked into the padding beneath her. The rune didn’t stop at one peak—it drove her straight into a second climax, sharper and more intense than the first, then a third that felt like it might unravel her entirely. It was as if she’d ingested every hallucinogen known to wizardkind, floating weightless on a cloud of pure, transcendent bliss while her body quaked uncontrollably beneath it all. Her mind went blank, all coherent thought; there was only pleasure.

As she continued to soil herself, each push adding to the warm, heavy mess caking her backside within the diaper’s tight embrace, the sensation only amplified the waves washing over her. The filth pressed against her skin with every twitch of her hips, a visceral reminder of her degradation that somehow fueled the rune’s magic further. Each messy release seemed to sync with another pulse of pleasure, dragging out her ecstasy into something beyond comprehension. She lay there quivering violently in the crib, muted moans vibrating behind the pacifier, eyes half-lidded and fluttering as orgasm after orgasm tore through her.

Her nipples ached beneath the onesie fabric, while her entire lower half felt molten with need and satisfaction intertwined. The diaper’s bulk squelched with each involuntary grind of her hips against it, her body chasing aftershocks even as new heights loomed. The rune showed no signs of relenting, feeding off her total submission to keep her spiraling through this endless cycle of bliss. Quinn was little more than a vessel for sensation now, messing herself, lost in a haze where humiliation and euphoria bled together until there was no distinguishing one from the other. Time dissolved; there was only this moment, stretching on indefinitely as she surrendered completely to Ruby House’s twisted design.

***

Quinn’s mind drifted hazily as she came down from the staggering high, her body slick with sweat beneath the soft fabric of her onesie. The mess cradled between her legs had cooled somewhat, a clammy weight pressing against her skin within the tight confines of her diaper, yet the sensation only seemed to anchor her lingering arousal. Morning light poured through the window, casting pale golden streaks across the dorm room, illuminating the pastel bars of her crib. She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or simply ridden the wave of the rune’s magic all night—time had melted away under that unrelenting ecstasy. What she did know was that this experience had transcended anything prior. Sure, previous submissions had brought powerful climaxes, but this… this was on an entirely different plane, as if every babyish act she’d performed had compounded over time, stacking into a crescendo of pleasure she’d never fathomed possible.

The pacifier remained firmly in her mouth, and she nursed it absentmindedly, each suckle syncing perfectly with the pulsing heat still throbbing between her thighs. It was as though the very act of sucking prolonged her orgasmic haze, each rhythmic motion stoking a low-burning fire in her core.

She shifted slightly, still on her tummy, feeling the diaper squish beneath her, the thick mess shifting against her skin. Her clit tingled with fresh anticipation, a needy ache persisting despite the night’s marathon of bliss. The rune never truly let her rest, her body, her sex, remained primed for more, insatiable under its magical influence.

Caught in a trance-like state, Quinn’s fingers trailed down the front of her onesie, sliding past her nipples, slipping over the crinkling bulk of her diaper. She pressed against herself through the padding, rubbing in slow circles over where her clit pulsed beneath layers of material. Yet, despite the direct stimulation, no additional heat flared within her, no spike of pleasure answered her touch. It was as if the rune knew her intent—to chase release through forbidden means—and deliberately denied her. Physical touch alone wouldn’t suffice. She needed the right mindset to unlock what she craved.

Closing her eyes, Quinn tried to envision herself as a baby, picturing infantile helplessness. It worked… somewhat. A faint ripple of warmth stirred in her core, a teasing echo of pleasure, but it paled compared to the earth-shattering highs of before.

No, this wasn’t enough. What would a true baby do? More importantly, how would a baby in Ruby House demonstrate an unrelenting desire to be the best little one there ever was—a shining example of total regression?

Quinn knew what she had to do. Her hand slid further down, abandoning the front of her diaper to cradle the messy swell at her backside. Fingers pressed into the sodden padding, feeling the warmth shift beneath her touch as she massaged it against herself. She closed her eyes tighter, nursing fervently on the pacifier, her body pulsing in sync with each suckle. The rune thrummed faintly over her abdomen, waiting for her full capitulation.

With a deep breath muffled behind silicone, she relaxed completely, letting her bladder release into the already saturated diaper. Warmth spread through the padding as she soaked it further, while her hand continued to knead and play with the messy bulk at her rear.

“M’ a poopy baby,” she mumbled around the pacifier, drool seeping from the corners of her mouth as she immersed herself in the fantasy—imagining herself as a blissful infant, happily using her diaper without shame, nursing contentedly, embodying Ruby House’s ideal of perfection.

The rune responded instantly. A surge of raw energy ignited across her abdomen, radiating heat through every inch of her trembling frame. Quinn’s muffled whimper vibrated behind the pacifier as she was thrust back into that realm of overwhelming bliss. Her body convulsed with pleasure, hips bucking involuntarily against the squelching diaper as wave after wave of orgasmic release crashed over her. Her sex clenched rhythmically, inner walls spasming with ferocious intensity as slick cum mingled with the mess already saturating her padding. Each pulse from the rune drove her higher—first one shattering climax that arched her back off the crib mattress, then a second rolling seamlessly behind it, deeper and more consuming.

Her mind blanked again under the onslaught, reality dissolving into pure sensation. The act of massaging her messy diaper became an amplifier; each squish and press against her skin heightened the ecstasy tearing through her. Urine continued to trickle out sporadically with every shuddering contraction of her body, soaking deeper into the overwhelmed padding until it felt impossibly heavy between her thighs.

“Poopy baby… poopy baby…” she gurgled repeatedly around the pacifier like some broken mantra meant to cement her degradation—and it worked. The rune fed off every ounce of submission she offered up willingly now: wetting herself without restraint; reveling openly in filth by playing with it; regressing fully into babbling helplessness.

Quinn spent the rest of the morning submerged in this baby-induced bliss—a continuous loop where orgasms chained together relentlessly, thanks to the magical influence woven so intricately by Darian’s hand. Sweat beaded on her forehead, matting strands of hair sticking uncomfortably close. Eyes half-lidded fluttered erratically while muted moans escaped despite silencing enchantment; she didn't want anything other than the drowning, endless cycle of pure bliss.