Chapter 15 — Botched Hexes

Elara sat in her Charms and Hexes class, the professor’s voice a steady drone that, under normal circumstances, might have actually held her attention. The subject was fascinating—intricate hand movements paired with subtle incantations to weave temporary enchantments into objects—and today’s lesson on imbuing mundane items with minor protective wards was particularly engaging. But her focus kept slipping, dragged away by the nagging discomfort of her wet diaper and the persistent, gnawing ache between her thighs. The thick padding squished beneath her as she shifted in her seat, a reminder of her degradation, though thankfully it wasn’t messy. Not yet, at least.

Beside her, Quinn’s head bobbed slightly, her eyelids drooping as she drifted off into a light doze. Elara couldn’t help but notice, her gaze flicking sideways with a mix of irritation and begrudging pity. She’d caught fragments of Quinn’s nightly escapades—muffled moans and the crinkle of her diaper. Whatever Darian had done to Quinn, whatever twisted game or rune-driven torment had unfolded after hours, it clearly left her exhausted. Elara almost felt bad for her roommate.

Almost.

The bitter edge of envy curdled any real sympathy before it could take root. It had been 41 days—41 agonizing, endless days—since Elara had last felt the sweet release of an orgasm. The need burned in her core like a relentless flame, an unquenchable fire simmering between her thighs that no amount of squirming or desperate fantasy could extinguish. The rune over her sex pulsed faintly even now, a cruel taunt ensuring that every spark of desire was felt but never satisfied. She’d tried everything short of outright rebellion to find relief—rubbing herself through the diaper until her wrists ached, grinding against the crib mattress in the dead of night—but nothing worked.

She’d even stooped to begging. Kneeling before Selena, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, voice raw with desperation, she’d pleaded for just one moment of release.

“Please, Mommy, I’ll do anything—just let me cum, just once,” she’d sobbed, hands clasped as if praying to some merciless deity.

But Selena had only tilted her head, a cold smirk curling her lips as she crouched down to meet Elara’s teary gaze.

“Sweet baby girl,” she’d purred, brushing a strand of hair from Elara’s face with mock tenderness, “you’re still in training to be my perfect little one. Until you’ve earned it—until you’ve proven you can be the best baby Ruby House has ever seen—you don’t get to feel that kind of grown-up pleasure. It’s not for you right now.”

Elara had swallowed hard, frustration boiling over into words she instantly regretted. “But Quinn—she’s cumming every day, multiple times! I hear her! It’s not fair—why does she get to and I don’t?”

Selena’s smirk had widened into something predatory, her eyes glinting with amusement as she straightened up. “Oh, darling,” she drawled, folding her arms across her chest, “that’s because Mommy and Daddy Darian have a little personal bet going. We’re each training our precious babies our own way to see who wins the House Cup—and who gets to set the standard for how Ruby House babies are cared for and molded. My strict control versus his… let’s call it ‘generous rewards.’ So, you see, my sweet girl, every time Quinn gets off, it’s just more motivation for you to behave perfectly for me. You wouldn’t want Mommy to lose now, would you?”

The memory of that conversation stung afresh as Elara sat there, the wet diaper clinging uncomfortably to her skin while the ache between her legs throbbed harder at the thought of Quinn’s frequent ecstasies.

She shot another glance at her dozing roommate, whose head now rested fully on the desk, blissfully unaware of the lecture or Elara’s turmoil. A quiet huff escaped her lips—just loud enough to risk drawing attention from nearby classmates—but she couldn’t help it. The unfairness gnawed at her, stoking both resentment and a flicker of grim determination. If this were a competition, then maybe… maybe she could find a way to tilt the odds, to outshine Quinn in Selena’s eyes without breaking entirely under the weight of constant denial.

Elara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the wet diaper beneath her uniform skirt squelching with the movement. Her mind churned with bitter thoughts as she questioned whether she even wanted to win the House Cup for Mommy.

What would it prove?

That desperation could be twisted into blind obedience? That Mommy’s ruthless brand of control—dangling rewards just beyond her fingertips while punishing every misstep with cruel precision—actually worked to break her down?

She’d overheard whispers of something new in the works, a scheme Mommy and Quinn’s Daddy had been concocting together. Details were scarce, snatched from hushed conversations outside their dorm, but what little she’d caught sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Something about linking Quinn’s pleasure directly to Elara’s obedience—a twisted symbiosis where her submission might fuel her roommate’s ecstasy. The mere thought made her stomach twist tighter than the cramps already plaguing her. What fresh hell would that be, to have even her smallest acts of compliance weaponized for someone else’s gain?

Her hand fluttered instinctively to her tummy as it churned again, a faint warmth radiating from the altered rune etched there. Mommy had drilled it into her with cold clarity: Elara was to act like a baby full-time, every hour of every day, no exceptions. As far as she could tell, no one else in Ruby House—or perhaps the entire academy—received such unrelenting, specialized “care.” Quinn earned orgasms for her infantile behaviors, drowned in rewards for playing along, while Elara faced punishment for any lapse in regression. Step out of line, show a hint of maturity, and the rune’s wrath or Mommy’s disapproval would descend like a hammer.

For now, her required acts were relatively minor, though they did nothing to dull the sharp sting of embarrassment each time she had to comply. Her tummy gurgled again, the warmth from the rune flaring hotter, and she sighed through her nose, knowing exactly how to stave off the inevitable accident.

Was it truly the rune driving her need to go, or the liquid diet Mommy forced on her—those thick, sweet formulas that wreaked havoc on her system? The diet had shifted something fundamental inside her; messy diapers were now a regular ordeal, sometimes multiple times a day. And despite their frequency, familiarity bred no comfort. Each time was as revolting as the first, a disgusting surrender that made her skin crawl.

A soft whimper escaped her as another cramp sliced through her gut, the rune’s heat spiking in warning. She bit her tongue to keep from cursing under her breath, knowing full well that even a whispered profanity could trigger its punishment.

Her fingers fumbled with trembling urgency at the clip on her uniform, tugging free the attached string until she retrieved the pacifier tucked inside. With a resigned grimace, she plopped it into her mouth, silicone pressing against her lips as she began to suckle.

Instantly, she felt the pressure in her tummy recede, a small mercy granted by her compliance. But that relief came at a cost. Smirks and stifled giggles erupted from several students seated nearby, their eyes glinting with amusement at her display. Heat flooded her cheeks, burning fiercer as she realized she couldn’t remove the pacifier on her own—not without risking further consequences. It no longer magically sealed itself in place as it once did, but she knew better than to test Mommy’s rune by spitting it out. One wrong move could reignite the cramps or worse.

Elara hunched slightly over her desk, trying to shrink from the stares boring into her. While it was becoming more common for classmates to witness her forced regression—suckling pacifiers, babbling nonsense, or waddling through halls with an unmistakable gait—it never stopped drawing attention.

Why was she the only one treated this way? Others in Ruby House seemed content to play their babyish roles behind closed doors, their humiliations private affairs between them and their caregivers. But Mommy was hell-bent on making Elara’s degradation a public spectacle, parading her infantilism for all to see. Every class, every corridor became a stage for her shame, and each giggle or sideways glance drove that reality deeper like a knife.

Her gaze darted briefly to Quinn again, still dozing beside her, oblivious to both the lecture and Elara’s silent turmoil. A flash of resentment coiled tight in her chest. How could Quinn sleep so peacefully after nights filled with pleasure while Elara sat here, 41 days denied, body aching with unfulfilled need, and now this fresh humiliation?

She suckled harder on the pacifier, partly out of necessity to keep the rune placated, partly out of frustration, ignoring the snickers around her as best she could.

Elara’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as the professor’s sharp voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, jerking her back to the reality of the Charms and Hexes classroom. “Elara!” he barked, one hand resting on his hip, his tone dripping with impatience. “Are you planning on waking your roommate, or do you intend to let them fail this class?”

She froze, her lips tightening around the pacifier as she fought the urge to respond. Speaking now, with this humiliating thing in her mouth, would only invite Mommy’s wrath through the rune—a lesson she’d learned the hard way. Her cheeks burned a fierce crimson as she reached over, her hand trembling slightly, and shook Quinn’s shoulder. The other girl jolted awake with a startled gasp, blinking rapidly as she sat up, the sudden movement drawing another wave of giggles from their classmates.

The professor nodded, his gaze shifting back to Elara with a glint of something unkind in his eyes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked pointedly.

Elara shook her head quickly, keeping her eyes lowered to avoid meeting anyone’s stare. The pacifier bobbed slightly with the motion.

“Not speaking, are we?” he pressed, a sly grin curling across his face as the students around her tittered with amusement.

Her blush deepened, spreading like wildfire down her neck as she lifted a shaky hand to point at the pacifier, mortification choking her more than any words could.

He chuckled, a low, mocking sound that made her stomach twist. “I see,” he mused, dragging out the pause before adding, “You’ve been paying attention, though, right, baby?” He stretched out the word ‘baby’ with deliberate malice.

The snickers from her peers grew louder, a chorus of cruel delight at her expense.

Elara nodded again, desperate to melt into the floorboards and disappear from this nightmare. Every eye in the room felt like a weight pressing down on her already fragile resolve.

“Then you should have no problem coming up and proving it,” the professor said. “Let’s see you perform a hex for the class.”

Her heart skipped a beat, dread pooling icy and heavy in her gut. She hesitated, rooted to her seat by sheer unwillingness to draw even more attention to herself. Standing up meant parading past every desk, letting everyone get a closer look at the thick diaper beneath her too-short uniform skirt, hearing its faint crinkle with each step, and seeing her nursing a pacifier.

“Come on,” he urged, impatience creeping back into his voice as he gestured toward the front of the room. “Come up here. Let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention.”

Her head dropped lower, shame burning so hot it felt like it might sear through her skin. But there was no escaping this. With a shaky breath muffled behind the pacifier, she forced herself to stand, legs wobbling beneath her as she took those first agonizing steps toward the front. The snickers followed like a swarm of buzzing flies—some stifled behind hands, others bold and unrestrained—as classmates whispered and pointed. She could feel their eyes raking over her, lingering on the way her skirt barely covered the bulk between her thighs, on the infantile accessory bobbing in her mouth.

“Look at that waddle,” someone giggled just loud enough for her to hear.

“Bet it’s wet too,” another voice chimed in with a suppressed laugh.

Each step amplified her humiliation, the diaper squishing with every step. By the time she reached the front and turned to face the class under the professor’s expectant gaze, her hands were clenched into fists at her sides to keep them from shaking visibly.

“Alright,” he said, stepping aside to give her center stage while picking up a small wooden box from his desk—an object often used for practice hexes due to its neutral magical conductivity. He set it on a nearby stand with a smirk. “Show us a basic repulsion hex. Should be simple enough if you’ve been listening instead of daydreaming about… whatever babies dream about.” A few students snorted openly at that.

Elara’s throat tightened around nothing; she couldn’t retort or even mutter an incantation properly with the pacifier in place—but removing it wasn’t an option either, without risking worse consequences later from Mommy’s rune or direct reprimand.

“Go ahead,” he prompted again when she didn’t move immediately, crossing his arms now with thinly veiled amusement playing across his features.

Swallowing hard past both shame and silicone barrier blocking speech alike—she raised trembling arm towards target box, hoping muscle memory would guide where voice could not assist incantation formulation internally alone silently begging she didn’t botch this. But, again, the pacifier… She needed to speak… She pointed to the pacifier, looking to the professor, silently asking him to remove it.

This only invoked more snickering from the students as the professor grinned. “No, I quite like having pacified students, it can remain, you can speak around it.”

Elara blushed, especially as more students chuckled, and she turned back, focusing on the box, trying not to let her arms tremble. Surely the rune would understand, right? The professor HAD told her to speak around her pacifier, so it would know she wasn’t being disobedient, right?

Elara’s hand twirled through the air, her focus narrowing as she drew forth the raw magic tingling at her fingertips. She could feel it coalescing, pulling from the ether into the physical realm, forming an intricate yet basic hex pattern before her. The invisible lines of power shimmered in her mind’s eye as her fingers traced the final strokes, completing the design she’d memorized despite the chaos of her thoughts.

Taking a shaky breath, she parted her lips around the pacifier and muttered the incantation to seal the hex, her voice distorted by the pacifier’s nipple. The words were correct in her mind, rolling off her tongue as best she could manage. Still, the pacifier warped them into an unintelligible mumble, a garbled mess of syllables that barely resembled the intended phrase.

The professor jolted upright, his eyes widening with alarm. “Wait, what did you say?” he asked urgently, his voice cutting through the quiet classroom as the hex glowed softly before her, hovering on the brink of activation.

“Not like that, wait!” he started, lunging forward with a hand outstretched as if to disrupt the hex mid-formation. But it was too late—the hex snapped into motion, its energy surging outward with a will of its own.

At that exact moment, two catastrophic events unfolded, searing themselves into Elara’s memory and promising to haunt her for the rest of her days at Littlewick Academy.

First, the rune etched over her abdomen flared to life, its warmth spiking into a punishing heat the instant her mumbled words left her lips. It didn’t matter that speaking was a requirement for the hex; the magic binding her to Mommy’s rules evidently saw no such exception. A sharp cramp twisted through her gut, forcing a low groan from behind the pacifier as her hand flew to her tummy. Her body quivered under the assault, muscles clenching as she felt the inevitable pressure building, preparing to fill the seat of her already wet diaper right there in front of everyone.

The second disaster, however, eclipsed even that personal horror. The hex, corrupted by her distorted incantation, didn’t target the wooden box on the stand as intended. Instead of a neat repulsion effect, the spell wove itself into something unrecognizable, a chaotic swirl of misaligned intent. The glowing pattern expanded rapidly, contained within the room’s walls by the wards, but finding hosts in every single person present.

It surged forward in a wave of shimmering light, enveloping each student seated at their desks, washing over Quinn, who blinked groggily from her interrupted nap, and finally crashing into the professor himself. His face froze mid-shout as the magic took hold, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

For a few agonizingly long moments, nothing happened. Elara stood rooted at the front of the class, hand still raised, frozen by equal parts shock and dread. Her classmates sat motionless at their desks, staring at her with expressions ranging from confusion to dawning unease. And the professor stood there just steps away from her position, now completely still, his eyes locked onto hers, filled not just with horror but something else unreadable.

Everything snapped at once, a chaotic crescendo of humiliation. Elara doubled over as another vicious cramp tore through her gut, the rune’s heat searing her from within. She lost all control, her body betraying her. A warm, heavy mess pushed into the seat of her diaper, spreading against her skin as she stood there at the front of the class. Her cheeks burned a violent red, shame consuming her as the faint squelch and crinkle echoed in her ears louder than any sound in the room. She was pooping herself, right here, in front of everyone, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But the class had its own unraveling nightmare to contend with.

The instant Elara began to mess, a chorus of groans erupted from the students and the professor alike. His face contorted, hand fluttering to his stomach as he hunched forward slightly. Students around the room mirrored him, doubling over their desks or clutching armrests, faces twisting in sudden distress.

Then, one by one, each person in that classroom lost control just as she had. The air filled with muffled squishes and crinkles, an unmistakable symphony of messing diapers echoing off the stone walls.

Yet there was an added side effect to this catastrophic hex gone awry, one Elara hadn’t anticipated when her mumbled incantation warped the spell. As they hunched over, faces initially screwed up in discomfort, something else bloomed across their expressions: pure, undeniable bliss.

Moans mingled with groans, rising into a cacophony of raw pleasure that drowned out the sounds of their shared degradation. Every person in the room was not only messing their diapers but orgasming at the same time, bodies trembling, eyes half-lidded or rolling back, breaths hitching in ragged gasps. Hands gripped desks or thighs for support as waves of ecstasy visibly coursed through them.

A girl near the front let out a shuddering cry, her knuckles white on the edge of her desk. “Oh… oh gods…” she gasped out before collapsing forward, quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

A boy two rows back groaned deep in his throat, head tipping back against his chair. “F-fuck… what is this…” he muttered through gritted teeth, hips jerking involuntarily.

Even the professor wasn’t spared; his flushed face betrayed him as he braced himself against his podium, a low grunt escaping despite his attempt to maintain composure. “This is… unbelievable…” he rasped under his breath, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before snapping open again in disbelief.

The room reeked of both filth and unfiltered arousal, moans overlapping, bodies shaking with simultaneous release triggered by the botched hex linking physical surrender to overwhelming pleasure. It was obscene and chaotic, a collective loss of dignity paired with an enforced euphoria that none of them could resist.

Everyone felt it.

Everyone but Elara.

She stood before them all, still doubled over from her own humiliating accident, the mess caking her rear within the confines of her sodden diaper. Her sex throbbed with desperate need beneath the rune, but no pleasure answered.

No blissful wave crashed over her to dull the shame. Instead, she was left painfully aware, acutely feeling every second of her degradation while watching classmates and teacher alike writhe in orgasmic relief she couldn’t touch.