Diaper U - Chapter 13 (April 26th)

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 1

 

Rejection hurt the most when it came in multitudes.

Daniel Aster prided himself in his resiliency and independence. He didn’t care what any authority told him, he could bounce back from any criticism. If a critique held merit, he’d listen, and if it just broke him down without purpose, he’d ignore it. He knew he had power, and he knew that with the right training, he could control that power. He was a master warlock in the making.

The first rejection slip that came on his doorstep, delivered by a curiously intelligent Peregrine Hawk, he ignored. There were over a dozen great Warlock schools across all eight continents. (Maybe Mundanes thought there were seven continents, but they hadn’t figured out indoor plumbing until the 19th century, so what did they know?) and plenty of smaller private institutions. It didn’t matter if one said no.

The second slip, he laughed it off. ‘Fundamentally incapable of controlling power’ may have been a note in both papers, but what did that matter? He knew his control was a weak point, it just took one administrator to see that it could be improved, that it wasn’t hopeless. Besides, they saw his strengths, didn’t they? Good results on written exams, high levels of magical attunement–if it wasn’t for piss poor control, he’d have been a cinch.

Eight rejection letters made his confidence waver.

He now had a stack of forty. So many letters that they made his waste paper bin overflow, so many that animal control had been called to complain about the bird poop spattering cars in front of his home–bird messengers were traditional, but perhaps a bit inconvenient.

When he got to be High Warlock, he’d see about getting official communication channels equipped with telephones and pagers.

If he got to be High Warlock. You didn’t get elected to top positions without a prestigious degree to your name.

For all his confidence, he admitted needed education, practice, and a good teacher. Nobody became a master on their own; even Merlin had learned from the fae.

Only…that wasn’t quite true. He didn’t just need a teacher, he needed remedial classes, maybe a tutor–the kind of education he could only get with a lot of money or a top-tier school. He was like a toddler who’d never learned to walk while his bones were growing, and now required physical therapy to catch up; he knew he had the capacity but he couldn’t stand up to prove it.

And with forty academies–public, private, long lasting institutions and barely-accredited night schools–all insisting he was unfit to be a warlock at all, Daniel had to admit that maybe they were right.

Maybe.

Lying on his bed, Daniel weighed his options. Give up, find a private tutor, bribe his way in–or keep digging for another school that he hadn’t already applied to.

Maybe he could make an appeal to his upbringing–his dad had been Mundane, not a lick of magic in him. Only his mom had power, but naturally, she was a witch. Women’s magic worked off the same fundamentals as men’s, but the nuances were vastly different; Warlocks worked alone, with lightning responses and raw strength no witch could manage, witches pooled their magic into covens that operated more slowly but with more delicacy, more staying power.

It was like the old saying–If you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to go far, go together. Warlocks were fast.

Or…they were in theory. Daniel had learned the basics of magic early, but he wasn’t fast, and nothing his mom had taught him had built speed.

The catch-22 made him reel–he needed a teacher to get the speed and precision of a true Warlock, but his current abilities were so low that no school would take him.

While he pondered this, another hawk smacked into his window, flopping onto the wrought-iron fire escape outside his apartment. He winced, walking over to open it, while the bird gave him an annoyed look.

“I keep my space tidy,” he said, rolling his eyes as he untied the letter from around its neck, allowing himself to feel a spark of hope. “Not my fault you can’t tell clean glass from open air.”

The hawk gave a croaking little caw, giving him a side-eye that seemed to say, ‘I’m better than you.’ Even the birds were looking down on him today.

Once the note was in his hands, the bird squawked, flapped its wings, and took off to the skies once more.

“Okay,” Daniel said, turning over the letter in his hands. “Let’s see what we’ve got…Berrier University.”

A distance-learning outfit, Berrier had been just about his last choice for application, but it was at least a choice. He didn’t need to attend for the full course–he could enroll for a semester, get enough proof that he could handle his shit, and take those grades to a real school.

He just needed his foot in the door. Holding his breath, he slid the envelope open and withdrew the note inside, mumbling the words as he read it aloud.

“Dear Mr. Aster,

We regret to inform you–”

Something was wrong with the note; after reading those first eight words, all the letters turned blurry and illegible.

He knew what the note said by heart, anyways. ‘Your control isn’t good enough, you aren’t fast enough, you don’t have the potential to be a warlock–you’ve got good grades on paper, go find work as an enchanter or something, maybe get a job teaching.’

And the message between the lines: ‘You’ll never be a real magician, so take the crumbs you can get. You just don’t have what it takes.’

“Dammit,” Daniel snapped, crumpling the note in his hand and tossing it into his trash bin. It bounced off the rim and rolled away. Annoyed, he snapped his wand–a stubby little thing with an ergonomic grip–off his desk and sent a shower of sparks at the note. It flopped into the air, overcorrected, and soared past the bin again.

He tried the spell again, and it this time flew straight up, no closer to being thrown away than if he’d left it to sit. On the third time, he spat out a word and flicked his wand and–instead of levitating the paper–set it on fire.

Eyes widening a fraction, Daniel blurted, “Shit,” and ran over, stomping out the flame before it could spread.

He stared down at the ashy pile.

(Goddammit.)

(God fucking dammit.)

(Are they right about me?)

Grimacing, he went to get a dustpan and clean up the mess. A cleaning spell would have been faster, but the last thing Daniel wanted to do was confirm the worst belief he held about himself.

He did have the potential, though. Daniel knew his strengths, and he knew his flaws–he was impulsive, he acted too quickly, he could be too stubborn for his own good. But he had a well of power inside him, one he could feel deep down in his core, the kind of power that warlocks of legend could only dream of.

Maybe he was a little cocky, too, but who ever heard of a passive warlock?

“Screw them,” he said aloud. “I’m going to get into one of these schools, one way or another.”

He wondered about cheating, but that wouldn’t help either. Even if he found a way to pretend to be able to do things he couldn’t, he’d be found out too quickly; he needed something that would get him trained, not just that would get him in the door. His control was that bad–and, being honest, he couldn’t blame it fully on being taught the basics by a witch. Many witches, his mother included, had better control than him even though that was miles away from their field of expertise. And…

And…

And that gave him an idea.

Sitting down, he picked up the phone from his desk, punching in his mom’s number on the hard plastic buttons. It rang twice, and then–

“Daniel!” she said, excitedly. “How are you, sweetie? Everything still going okay in Seattle? Have you found a job yet? A girlfriend?”

“I told you, I’m just here until I get accepted into college,” he said, scratching his chin. “Why look for a job when I’m leaving in a few weeks?”

He heard her click her tongue, a noise she made when she was thinking. “Right, right–it’s just, you never call, how am I supposed to know what’s going on in your life?”

“I’m calling right now!” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I was just curious–do you have your old records from when you were studying at Alphebeta?”

“I’m sure I’ve got them somewhere,” she said. “Why?”

He didn’t detect a hint of suspicion in her tone. Perfect. “For filling out one of these applications–I think it might help. Could you send that over?”

There was a way to get the education he needed. If witches had better focus than him, he’d just go learn from witches. His poor control wouldn’t stop him from getting enrolled, and he could fake the rest.

Daniel just had one obstacle to overcome:

Alphabeta–and, for that matter, any other witches’ school in the world–was an all girls school. Of course it was; ‘all witches’ and ‘all girls’ were practically synonyms.

Still, he had a way around that, too.

He’d just need his mom’s records, a little sleight of hand, and a dress.

[kerry]

I quite like this opening!

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Two

The Plan came in three stages.

Stage One had been the easiest–just filling out a new university application with some creative verbiage. It had been relatively straightforward to send in enrollment information without ever referring to himself with a single pronoun. The forms did have an option to self-report being a non-binary witch, but Daniel just left that section blank: The assumption was ‘Girl’ by default.

Under his name, he’d written it as ‘Dani Aster’, a nickname so close to his real salutation that it wasn’t really a lie, and in the personal information section, he’d described himself as a legacy applicant following in his mother’s footsteps.

Just to be safe, he wrote down a phone number for her, but put down his own number, and cleared his voicemail greeting. If anyone called, he’d be able to ‘Get her on the line’ and then speak in a high register.

A week later, he got his response–he’d been selected for the final group of applicants for the upcoming semester. His application had been a little late, but given that he was a legacy applicant with good grades, they were willing to give him a shot.

Now came the harder part: Stage Two.

He’d need to look like a girl, because they wanted him to come in and take an in-person test.

Some parts were easier than others. His hair had grown pretty shaggy over the summer, and even a Mundane stylist could get him extensions. He felt a bit sheepish when he pointed to a girl on a magazine cover and explained, “I want my hair to look like that,” but the stylist had only smiled pleasantly and started on it without question, chatting him up about movies and the weather while she worked.

He half suspected they’d gossip about it as soon as he left, but who cared? They were Mundanes, after all, he didn’t need their approval.

Shopping came next. He picked out a knee-length skirt, and got an employee’s help selecting a blouse to match. With a pair of kitten pumps and a padded bra, he was all good to go on the physical front–there was no chance in hell he'd get any alternative underwear to replace his boxers. If he got checked for panties he'd already be in too much trouble to recover.

He had a moment in the changing room. With his hair already long and lush, and the skirt and blouse donned, he had to do a double take in the mirror. Even without makeup, he looked like most of a new person–if he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was looking at his secret long-lost sister.

Without giving that any further reflection, he bagged up the clothing, checked out, and went to go potion shopping.

Alchemy was something he was an old hand at–it didn’t require precise, quick action, just a slow, steady supply of magic and a good head for magical reagents. Though potions were brewed by all sorts, it did get a bit of a reputation as witch’s magic–a whole coven could work on a potion together and keep it brewing for days or weeks. A warlock or even just a low-powered hedge mage on his own could only do simpler potions, since they needed to be brewed in a single sitting.

Fortunately, all Daniel needed was something to make his voice go up a half-octave and handle a little modulation for him. A few crushed pearls and the tears of a siren were the only expensive ingredients, the rest he picked up at the local grocery, and in an evening of stirring over a hot plate, he had his potion.

He had dressed the part, and he sounded the part. Two steps down. All that remained was dealing with his face.

Looking himself in the mirror, he studied the magazine tutorials he’d acquired. Lipstick, blush, eyeliner. He’d gone to a pharmacy and bought everything the tutorial suggested, and with it all laid out on his dresser, he followed the steps.

Foundation, and then concealer. (No, wait.) A makeup wipe took that all off, so he could go concealer, then foundation. (Why the heck isn’t ‘foundation’ what comes first? It’s in the name.) To ensure he really sold it, contouring came next, which…

He looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look like a girl version of himself, he looked like he was in the midst of anaphylactic shock. Another wipe took it off, again, and he sighed, grateful he hadn't even gotten to eyeliner–that looked like a nightmare.

Some skills he couldn’t learn from a book–he needed a teacher.

So, sucking up his dignity, he left his brownstone apartment and took a walk to a boutique makeup store a few blocks away.

If he’d felt uncomfortable with the hair and sheepish about the clothes, the store had him downright frozen, a deer in the headlights. He couldn’t really think of a proper excuse, it’s not like he could claim he was buying makeup for his twin sister who looked exactly like him–or, well, he could, but it wouldn’t be believed.

It took him ten minutes of pacing the aisles before he built up the courage to approach the counter. Feeling like he was about to be laughed out of the store, he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes drawn down to the employee’s name tag.

(Kimberly. Okay. She’s just a person. This is her job.)

“Hi,” she said, beaming at him. “Can I help you with something?”

He nodded. “I need…eh…” (Just ask for it.) “I need a consult.”

She nodded. “Alright–let’s get you started, then. Are you looking for a new daily routine, or something more elaborate?”

“Eh…” (A normal girl on a normal day would just use a daily routine, right? Or–since this is a test, it’s a big deal. Should I go for the fancy stuff?) “Something more elaborate.” And, adding a touch of honesty, he continued, “I’m enrolling in a new…position and I want to look my best for the application.”

Kimberly just nodded. “Alright–well, we can start with the basics and work our way up from there. First things first–getting a color match that’s right for you.”

Daniel got no impression that she cared that he was clearly a guy, albeit a guy with long, flowing locks of recently-permed hair, she just set him down and took out a color matching set, comparing different shades with his skin tone.

“Can you explain what all this does?” he asked, as she pulled out a product to sample, applying it with a soft brush to his face.

“Of course! This concealer is going to match your skin tone and hide your beard shadow, so we’ve got a surface to work on. We want to use a complementing color here, so it’s tinted orange to cover up the blue.”

He blinked. “My hair is brown, not blue.”

That did get a smile out of her, but not one of condescension–more just, ‘I’ve answered this objection before’. “Not when it’s under your skin.”

“Right. You’ve done this before? With–guys, I mean?”

She nodded. “Makeup is for everyone, sweetie. Now, let’s get you set up with a good foundation and show you how to blend it…”

She walked him through the whole process, and at risk of missing something that would tip off the school, he said, ‘Yes’ to everything. Concealer, foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow, (That’s different from eye liner?), primer, setting powder, lipstick and lip liner, (again, why are there two products for lips?), bronzer, a contouring palette, false eyelashes, and enough brushes that he was having trouble keeping them apart. As an afterthought, he tossed in a bottle of nail polish. The total bill came out to a hefty triple digit sum, but it'd be worth it once he achieved High Warlock.

But when she was done…

He had to rush home, paying quickly, hurrying to get out of there. Back in his apartment, all he wanted to do was stare in a mirror.

He looked…good.

Great.

He looked adorable.

Full lips, and a face that didn’t have any pockmarks or old acne scars. All the little blemishes that he didn’t like about his appearance were gone.

In a moment of uncertainty, he took out the dress he’d bought and put it on, comparing how he looked with that on in the mirror versus his shirt. That…didn’t do anything for him, which wasn’t exactly a surprise, but it affirmed what he’d already thought.

He didn’t want to be a girl–even if that would have made the ‘applying to a witch’s school’ part of his life a little more understandable. He was certainly still Daniel Aster, would-be Warlock, confident in his manliness.

But all the same…he liked how he looked in the makeup. He didn’t need the falsies or the bright red lipstick, but the rest of the routine? He could get used to that. Plus, he’d learned a lot, and had some ideas. A little contouring could make his jawline stronger instead of softer, and generally have him looking a bit more...Daniel at his best.

It’s like Kimberly had said–makeup was for everyone.

And, more important to his scheme, he’d completed his look. Hair in golden locks, with a face that looked pert and feminine and a skirt that twirled so easily he seemed to be flouncing with every shift of his weight, Daniel knew at a glance that he’d never be questioned on his girlhood.

With a ritual circle and some concentration, he apparated into Alphabeta’s grand landing hall. A towering chamber built out of white stone, there was enough space overhead to comfortably fit his entire brownstone apartment building, and the light cast across the entire chamber seemed to be sourceless, coming from everywhere and nowhere, so that everything was well lit and nothing would ever be blindingly difficult to look at.

The air had a warm undercurrent–a surprise, given that they were somewhere in the North Pole. The whole school was built so far away from Mundanes that it didn’t even need to hide. Getting in and out required magic–simply making it into the school was proof that you had some talent.

And sure, a warlock would have been able to apparate to the landing hall in a snap of his fingers. The hall was built to be a beacon for sending magic, after all, but Daniel was happy to have made it, period. Speed could come later.

Speed could come later, that’s why he was here.

Turning to look around, he saw girls popping into the space around him–a few in groups, most solo. Hoping one of them might know which way to go, he watched for a moment, but they seemed as directionless as him. Before he could approach anyone to ask, though, he heard a voice call out.

“If you’re here for testing, raise your hand!” A tall blonde girl with angular features and equally angular glasses stood near one of the large corridors leading out of the landing hall, and her voice carried so well that Daniel suspected she’d amplified it with a bit of magic. She didn’t look old enough to be a teacher, so Daniel suspected maybe a TA or just a student who’d volunteered to help.

Most of the girls in the room raised their hands, and Daniel followed suit.

“Alright–Sparks, follow me.” Making a ‘this way’ gesture, she turned to walk down the corridor behind her, walking sideways so she could keep an eye on the group. “And don’t dally–you might want to familiarize yourself with the place, but this isn’t home yet. Most of you are going to leave and never come back, so don’t waste everyone’s time on tourism.”

Daniel snorted, following along in the middle of the group.

Mistake.

Her eyes shot to him. “What’s your name, Spark?”

“Spark?” he asked. His voice came out in a high alto, and he almost gave himself away by looking shocked–he wasn’t used to how he sounded with the pitch potion in his system.

“Newbie. Rookie. You’ve got a bit of power, but you don’t know how to use it,” she said, walking backwards so she could face the group and lead them at the same time. “What’s your name?”

“I know how to use my power." He looked her petulantly in the eye, annoyed at her attitude when she didn't even know him. She stood almost a foot taller than him, so to meet her eye line, he had to look notably up. “And I appreciate the directions, but I don’t need your opinion about my skill–I know how good I am. This test is going to be easy.”

“Yeah? Check this again,” she said, pointing at her chest. He looked back down, only now noticing the name tag with ‘Prefect’ printed beneath her name, ‘Rachel Haligtree’ over a pair of breasts that warranted staring. “If you do make it in, Spark, I’m going to be watching over you to make sure you know your ABC’s. That means my opinion about your skill is all you need. Name.”

He almost puffed himself up for an argument, but a second’s hesitation told Daniel to stand down. Once he aced the exams, he could start throwing his clout around. Until then, he’d keep his head down. “Dani-el Aster,” he said, pronouncing his name like ‘Danielle’.

Rachel tapped her horn-rimmed glasses, considering. “Right, the momma’s girl. You got in because of a family connection. Don’t think that’ll help you on testing.”

Adjusting the bra, annoyed by the straps over his shoulders, Daniel cast his gaze downward and continued marching towards his exam room, following Rachel. (Just get through the exams, then you can take this stupid outfit off and shove your results in this girl’s face.)

He did smile, though–his disguise had survived a trial by fire. All eyes had been on him, and he’d made it through without anyone noticing that it was a disguise.

Daniel grinned, the expression accented by his cherry-red lipstick. The tests would be the easy part.

He was practically in.

...

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[kerry]

Hi,

Loving this new piece. I quickly subscribed to your subscribestar because of it, but I hate the fact that subscribestar doesn't (apparently) let you organize by story, creating a long list of chapters and messages to scroll through. So I am canceling that and have subscribed to ream instead. Either way, I do enjoy your work.

[PeculiarChangeling]

1 hour ago, kerry said:

Hi,

Loving this new piece. I quickly subscribed to your subscribestar because of it, but I hate the fact that subscribestar doesn't (apparently) let you organize by story, creating a long list of chapters and messages to scroll through. So I am canceling that and have subscribed to ream instead. Either way, I do enjoy your work.

Yeah, it's a bit awkward - fine for reading the most recent post, but there's not a great catalog system. That's why I like offering the Ream option, it keeps the reading experience clean. ^^

Thank you!

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 3

Alphabeta’s testing hall put most universities to shame.

Built in a multipurpose space that could’ve served for recitals, speeches, or even spectator sports with the right equipment. It had been lined with rows of tables to one side of the room, and long rune-scribed mats laid out on the other side, surrounded with personal shields so that spells could be thrown back and forth without risk of collateral damage. Girls were doing spells on those mats: Creating lights, conjuring shapes, lifting stones. Displaying their skills.

A teacher by the entrance called out, her voice amplified so that everyone could hear her clearly, though nobody would find her voice uncomfortably loud.

“Applicants to the right–find an open seat and sit down. You will not look up from your test until you’ve completed it. Once it’s done, bring your test to me, then head over to an open practice mat for practical demonstrations of ability.”

Here, Daniel knew he’d shine. Swaggering to one of the open seats, he sat before the slightly-enchanted paper and picked up the #2 pencil provided. Multiple choice bubbles were so easy as to be laughable, and he blew through them one after the other. Questions about magical theory, basics that Daniel didn’t even need to consider–for many of the questions, he didn’t even need to look at the multiple choice options, he just knew the right answer immediately.

Smirking as he got past the first page in minutes, he wondered how the nearby girls were doing–surely they found this as much of a joke as he did. Turning his head–No. His eyes remained on the next page of his test.

(Hey, why can’t I–)

Turning his head–No.

His gaze stayed locked on the paper. (They enchanted us?)

Straining, Daniel turned his head–No.

He simply could not look up from the multiple choice questionnaire, no matter how much effort he poured into the attempt. Cheating wasn’t simply forbidden–it was impossible, robbing his autonomy away.

(Note to self–figure out what this sort of spell is called. Figure out how to get around it.)

Daniel wondered what’d happen if he found a loophole in their magic and managed to cheat. Would they give it a pass, because it demonstrated more skill and magical power than simply answering the questions normally?

Then again, what good would cheating be if he could bypass spells created by the teachers?

Flipping to the next page, he grinned. (Rune diagrams–they must have heard I was coming.)

This was no test, it was a game. He knew runes better than the alphabet, and quickly identified the purpose of each diagram, flipping from page to page.

Potions knowledge took a bit more effort, but not much–who could forget what amounted to memory puzzles and shopping lists?

With every question, his confidence grew. He finished up before the girls sitting around him, most of whom had sat down before he walked into the room–and, once he stood up and his answers had been locked in, he was able to glance at their tests.

(Wow, really? They’re getting answers wrong? This is…like… grade school stuff.)

Walking back to the teacher by the door, he brought his test back to the teacher organizing this section. Holding out the sheaf of papers triumphantly, he said, “Here’s my test.”

“That was fast, Miss…?” She took the stack and glanced through horn-rimmed spectacles at the top of the first paper. Finding his name printed there, she read out, “Aster.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he replied, keeping a straight face–even dressed as a girl, he’d been caught off guard by the ‘Miss’. “I didn’t see any reason to slow down when I knew all the answers.”

“The fastest results aren’t always the best,” she pointed out, thumbing through to check a few things before setting aside the stack.

Daniel nearly ran his mouth: ‘In a duel, it’s the quicker warlock who wins, not the one who sits down to hem and haw over the details.’ He caught himself, just barely too late to keep from speaking entirely. “In a d…” (Witches don’t duel.)

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Hmm?”

“In a day or two,” he said, mouth running ahead of his thoughts, just filling the air. “Will we…know our test results?”

She exhaled through her nose. “Ms. Aster, we don’t need to wait that long. I’ll have the results as soon as the last test is done.” Holding up his test, she added, “In fact, I’ve already graded this paper, and you did remarkably well–if you can handle yourself this well with practical magic, I am fully confident I’ll see you in my class.”

“I’m sure I will.” He smiled, and–hoping to sell it a bit–gave a slight curtsy.

Her expression flattened by degrees, a shade cooler than it’d been before his attempt at femininity.

(Crap, crap–)

“Don’t expect your confidence to get you through my lessons,” she added. “If you expect to breeze through this easily in my class, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

(Oh, she just thinks I’m cocky.) “I won’t. May I ask your name?”

“Once you’re enrolled, Professor Blackburn,” she said. “Until then, I prefer non-students simply call me Velma.”

He smiled. (Once I’m enrolled. Even the teachers know I belong at a school like this.)

(Eh…not exactly like this, but certainly at a magic school.)

“Thank you, Velma,” he said, turning to walk to the practice mats.

Time for some practical magic.

He stepped into the ring, and felt the slight pop of magic sealing around him, weighing on his ears like a pressurized airplane cabin at high altitude. Everything around fell silent–it was just him and the sound of his breath, with slightly aching ears from the pressure.

Another student, a blonde girl about his height with a bandaid over her nose looked distraught and slightly pained as the magic sealed her into her own private bubble. He caught her gaze, smiled, and gestured to his face. Reaching up, he squeezed on his nostrils and blew until his ears popped.

She mimicked him, expression melting to relief, and gave him a thumbs up in response.

He smiled, waiting for instruction.

A second passed. He shivered–he hadn’t accounted for the dress being this drafty, he was used to pants that kept his legs comfortably warm. His dress came down pretty far, but a gentle shifting of air in the room still sent cold tendrils up his bare legs.

After a few more moments, glowing letters formed in front of him, hovering in the air. ‘Follow instructions accurately, quickly, and efficiently.’

“Okay, which instructions?” Then he answered his own joke. “Yup, that’s correct, the witch instructions.”

The letters shifted. ‘Conjure light.’

Light spells were easy peasy, and about what he’d expected from a witch’s school–there wouldn’t be any fast, complicated evocations. Reaching into his purse, he took out his wand, flicked it in the air, and flexed his power. It felt like tensing muscles somewhere deep in his chest, except for a lack of physical strain on any part of his body–the more he tensed, the more power he unleashed, and here it took just a little burst of power for the desired effect.

He created a little mote of werelight.

The letters flashed green.

‘Dismiss light.’

He did so, releasing the tension he’d held over his heart. Robbed of its fuel, the light winked out like a lightbulb and the letters flashed green again. Again, simple.

‘Instructions understood. Proceeding to testing.’

“Uh…oh. That was just to make sure I…understood…”

The letters had already begun to reform. ‘Create a physical construct four feet wide and six feet tall, capable of withstanding fifty Newtons of force.’

“Uh…uh…”

The girl next to him was already working on it, already building a barrier. He had to stop and think, focusing on how much power he needed to stop that much force.

“Cavilion Elementus?” he flexed his power to try and release just enough energy for the result he wanted, but it was like going to pick up an object without knowing how heavy it’d be, and he had no way of fixing after the fact if he overcompensated. Sending out power, he flicked his wand through the air.

A slightly shimmering shield formed in front of him, then shattered. The instruction letters flashed red, highlighting the end, ‘Capable of withstanding fifty Newtons of force.’

He scowled–he’d been trying to avoid wasting power, but he’d undershot. He tried again, figuring out the exact level of magic power needed to pass by gut feel–a bit of trial and error based on the failed attempt, and a bit of superstitious guessing. “Cavilion Maximus!”

This time it worked, but when the letters flashed green, they seemed…duller. No shiny success for him, just an adequate result.

Another set of instructions formed, asking him to manipulate flame. Trying to whip out the magic, he sent a gout of fire that burned a brief hole in the letters, stopping against the edge of the invisible seal that penned in his practice mat. He tried again, slower–when he stopped and focused on exactly what he needed to do, he did better.

It went like that. His hastily conjured magic worked one in four times, but more often than not he had to try again, reworking the power needed on the fly. None of the spells were particularly complicated or immensely difficult, but they were tricky and specific–he didn’t want to take an hour on each one to work out exactly how much energy he should send out, not when speed was being accounted for, but instead he kept flubbing it, using far too much or far too little power.

The girl with the band aid on her nose finished up. When she left, she gestured to her ears and beamed at him, calling out words he couldn’t hear.

He smiled weakly. (She’s done already?)

Another girl took up that spot.

That girl left, too, replaced by yet another would-be student.

Aware how long he was taking, aware of every mistake, Daniel tried to get closer to finishing. He put himself more into every spell, but it didn’t help–that just meant his mistakes were more dramatic.

Thirty spells in total passed, and by the end, sweat had begun to drip down the back of his neck. He remembered Velma’s words: “If you can handle yourself this well with practical magic.”

(“If.”)

Clearly, he couldn’t. His practical magic sucked so much that even these witches were doing laps around him.

He needed to turn things around, and he couldn’t, because there were no spells left to test him on–save for one.

The letters reformed. ‘Lift the stone. It will grow heavier over time. Keep it suspended for as long as you can.’

A test of strength and nothing else.

Okay.

If he couldn’t be precise, he could at least be strong. He wasn’t sure how long the girls around him had lasted, he just knew he had to make it longer, to show off enough raw power to stand out from the pack.

A pebble appeared, popping into existence in front of him.

He took a breath, focused on what he wanted to do, flexed the psychic muscles in his chest, and lifted the stone, hovering at a point a few feet off the ground.

Levitation had its difficult parts, but this wasn’t one of them. Moving things around precisely? Daniel struggled there; it took too many precise releases of power to control direction and thrust. Quickly? Even harder–take all the issues of precision and put them on a time crunch. But just holding the rock in place in the air didn’t take precision, just focus and power.

Daniel didn’t feel the effort at first, but as seconds passed, the stone began to grow, swelling out with his breath. Inhale, nothing. Exhale, and it expanded, like a balloon drawing on his own magic.

He reached into himself, to the deep well of power somewhere in his belly, anchoring himself to the magic. The rock swelled past the size of a basketball, then a beach ball. He braced himself, spreading his legs into a solid stance he’d seen in a kung-fu movie, reaching deeper.

(I’m strong enough to lift the rock,) he told himself. (This is true. This is the way things are. My will overpowers reality. I am strong enough to lift the rock.)

He had to believe it–if he didn’t believe it, deep in his core, the magic would fail. Truth was no mere social construct, for the purposes of magic, truth carried weight. In order to lift the rock, he needed to believe he was strong enough to lift it, and that belief had to be founded in truth.

The paradox would make him go cross eyed if he thought about it too much, so he didn’t think about it.

Fully a boulder now, the rock grew larger, and larger.

He had begun to sweat so much it justified his choice of premium setting powder. Breathing deeply, Daniel lowered his hands down almost to his knees and lifted them up, as though pushing the rock with his palms. Levitation magic boiled the air, and he saw sparks of light shimmer around him.

(I am strong enough. I can lift anything.)

Power flowed from him. He could do this. He would do this. He’d show the school that, for all he lacked, he had the might of great warlocks of old, and the will to use it.

The rock grew bigger, so big it pressed against the shimmering shield surrounding his testing platform, sending up motes of angry light as the barrier struggled to contain his spells, to keep it from spilling out into the testing hall at large.

(Is this enough? Am I even doing well?)

It wobbled, threatening to fall out of the air.

(What if this is expected, too? What if I’m kidding myself, if every girl here can lift these boulders and I’m a joke for telling myself this is impressive?)

It started to sink, dropping, nearly touching the ground. He sucked in his air, throwing out more power.

(No–no. Hold on. I’ve seen them testing. I haven’t watched, but I’ve seen–other girls lifted rocks. None had one this big.)

Exhaling, Daniel Aster laughed, recognizing what he should have realized before: He’d proven enough already. If they wanted to confirm strength, he’d done it; no girl in the class had lifted anything bigger than this. He’d seen some fairly large rocks, but his boulder had grown to the size of a small car, bigger even.

“YES!” he said, triumph coursing through him. He was strong enough. He knew it. The rock lifted, higher, and so did he, levitation energy flowing in every direction. His feet lifted off the ground, floating up in tandem with his stone, knowing that he would pass this test with flying colors.

Then, without warning, the magical barrier penning in his training pad burst. Sparks shot up, and all his strength lashed out into the room beyond.

Levitation energy that he’d stopped trying to focus, relying on the training pad to keep it contained, now shot out untamed in every direction. Tests shot into the air, papers fluttering like birds, and half the girls in the room–everyone not currently inside a training circle of their own–staggered for a moment as the magic lifted them up off the ground.

All eyes turned to him, floating several feet off the ground and cackling like a madman.

He realized, only then, that his dress hem had flown up along with the rest of him, and his tighty whities were showing.

“Uh–” he started.

The power left him, and he fell back down in a heap.

(Well…shit.)

...

I've got a little story to tell!

I started writing Diaper U well over a year ago, as an exclusive story. At the time, I was doing it without an outline - no real plan, just vibes.

It, frankly, wasn't very good. The story rambled and lacked direction. Worse, it rushed, trying too hard to get to 'the good stuff' without any buildup. There were some scenes I liked, and some concepts, but overall, it just wasn't up to scratch.

So, I restarted it. I wrote an outline, stole all the best bits from what I'd already written, and began again from scratch. The chapter you just read loosely correlates to the original Chapter One.

I'm really grateful that my supporters were on board with the change - being able to go back and fix things, to make my stories as good as possible, is something I'm glad I can do.

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 4

Daniel had a moment to stagger and gape at the room around him, following the chaos of his little display.

Everyone had seen him lose control of the power, and even now papers were fluttering down from the ceiling of the testing chamber. More to the point, everyone had seen his underpants.

It barely even registered that the mess was being cleaned up, he was focused on deciding how to respond to his exposure. By the entrance, Professor Blackburn had out a wand and was guiding all the papers back into stacks, but he had to choose then and there: Try and gaslight the room into thinking they hadn’t just seen what they thought they saw up his skirt, or come clean.

He wasn’t that good of a liar.

When he stood, he found himself looking up into the eyes of one particularly angry Rachel Haligtree. Speaking with slow, punctuated emphasis, she snapped, “What. The hell. Was that?”

“Fine,” he said, dusting himself off, glancing back at the boulder behind him. His testing was over. He’d be in or he wouldn’t be. “You caught me. I’m a guy.”

She blinked. “You’re–excuse me?”

Hesitating, Daniel said, “Well, you saw my…er…”

“I’m not talking about your junk, I’m talking about this!” She waved a hand at the chamber, at the other people. “You disrupted the entire test, and–you’re a guy?”

“Well–” he started.

Fortunately, or perhaps not, Velma Blackburn stepped in, looking down at him through horn-rimmed glasses. “Perhaps a bit more control would have been advisable,” she conceded, “But this young lady didn’t break the rules–our training wards failed, that isn’t her doing.”

Fuming, Rachel said, “Okay, but he just said that he is a man.”

Velma blinked. “He…”

“Yeah,” Rachel confirmed. “He.”

“Well,” Daniel said. “You can run my numbers instantly, right? Did he pass?”

“Danielle,” Velma began. “Er–”

“Daniel,” he corrected.

“Daniel, this is a school for witches. Not warlocks. What are you doing here?” Velma arched an eyebrow at him–perplexed, not upset.

“I needed a little education in control before any warlock school would let me in,” Daniel admitted. It was embarrassing, sure, but who cared? He was in, or he wasn’t; if his stunt had failed, he wouldn’t be able to pull it again somewhere else. “Did. I. Pass?”

“I suppose, but–”

“Great,” Daniel said, smoothing out his dress, already planning to go wipe off the makeup so he’d look his boy-self again. “Awesome. I’ll look forward to studying under you, Professor Blackstone.”

“Ahem,” Velma said, simply. “Perhaps this needs judgment from the Dean.”

“Allow me, ma’am,” Rachel replied.

In an instant, her own wand was out, a colorful rod with a long piece of lace ribbon on one end and gemstones along the other. With a flick, Daniel shot up into the air, hoisted by levitation magic with infinitely more refinement and control than his own.

Only, she hadn’t cast it on him. Rachel’s spell seized the back of his tighty-whities, pulling him in the air with a particularly intense wedgie.

He winced and his legs flailed, kicking to try and push off the floor and release some of the weight. “HEY!”

“I’ve got him,” Rachel said. “Don’t worry about this, you can focus on the testing, ma’am.” With one more flick, she lifted him up some ten feet so that he dangled above everyone’s heads, underwear straining to support the whole weight of his body.

A few of the other testees giggled, more pointed. All eyes had already been on him from the crisis, but now he’d been turned into a spectacle, floating in the air, red faced and angry. With his dress down, nobody could see that he was being held aloft by wedgie power, but they could see his inability to fight back from the spell. Daniel’s face burned, half with embarrassment, half with discomfort as the fabric chafed between his cheeks and compressed his balls into his body. “Put me down!”

"I thought warlocks outclassed us witches in duels," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes. "I didn't know you boys got out of binding spells just by begging."

Screwing up his face with anger and annoyance, Daniel flicked his wand and tried to dispel the magic, but Rachel’s levitation persisted. On his second attempt, the magic recoiled, sparking in his hand–he dropped his wand towards the floor, and Rachel snatched it out of the air.

“Come along,” she said, waving a hand. The levitation began to carry him forward, over the heads of the other applicants, floating right out of the testing hall and down a corridor towards the faculty offices.

Daniel kicked and squirmed, the underwear burning between his legs. “I’ll have you expelled for this!”

“You assume anyone cares what a little boy who plays dress-up thinks,” Rachel replied. “Why did you come here? Just as a joke? To have a laugh at us?”

“Because I wanted to enroll,” he snapped, reaching down to try and lift himself up out of the undies, to relieve some of the weight. Pushing both hands around his dress to get at the waistband, he accomplished his goal, but in doing so his center of balance shifted. He began to rock forward in the air, tipping with nothing to hold onto, until he fell forward and down to the ground–with his underwear still suspended ten feet up.

Naked from the waist down–save for his sneakers–Daniel flushed bright red and pulled his dress down to cover himself.

“Oh, wow,” Rachel commented. “Okay, let’s try–”

With another flick of her wrist, she grabbed him by the ankle, flipped him up, and sent him into the air once again–upside down, his dress flipping up to cover his body and leave him exposed to the air.

“Put me DOWN!” Daniel screamed, trying to push up his dress to cover his exposed dick.

“No,” Rachel said, simply. With another flick, then, she eliminated the dress as well–the fabric simply vanished, disintegrated into nothing.

He was, momentarily, surprised. That sort of destructive evocation took a lot of precision and control. Rachel was scary for a witch.

If he could learn that, he’d be a shoe-in at any warlock school in the world.

Then, the reality of being completely naked in a hallway full of girls his age hit him, and he kicked in the air, spinning to try and face Rachel. His only reprieve from humiliation was that they weren’t still in the grand hall surrounded by the absolute throng of test-taking girls–only a few passing girls saw him in his half-naked state.

Finally managing to kick at the air enough to turn and look at Rachel, he demanded, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is you, trying to undermine the integrity of Alphabeta with your stupid trick,” Rachel shot back. “You do not belong here. You should not have come here, and unless you promise to turn around and leave as soon as I give your big-boy undies back, I have zero reason to be nice to you.”

Daniel might have stood up for himself more, but it was hard to build self-confidence without anything to make him decent. Rather than continue the argument, he just glared, blushed, and tried to think up a counterspell he could cast without his wand.

Her expression declaring victory, Rachel paraded him down the halls, smirking proudly at his humiliation. In less than a minute, she had him at an important looking set of double doors, which led into an equally important looking office, helmed by–of course–a woman who radiated a sense of paramount authority.

The dean looked like every bit of the scholarly witch–half moon glasses, classic black robes, and a black, pointed hat. She glanced up, raising a single eyebrow at the spectacle marching up to her desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked. On her desk, a nameplate read, ‘Dr. Penelope Madrigal’. “Rachel–put the girl down.”

Rachel dropped him in a heap on the ground. “Ma’am, this boy–”

“Rachel Haligtree,” the dean snapped, shooting a stern look at the prefect. “Leave us. I will handle this.”

Rachel, gaping, still gave deference to this woman’s authority. Scoffing, she turned and walked away, shutting the doors behind her.

The dean looked at him calmly. “What is your name, child?”

“Daniel Aster,” he said, simply, getting to his feet and brushing himself off. He’d lost his purse at some point, and Rachel had gotten every bit of his clothes, leaving him truly naked. In front of the dean’s consummate professional gaze, though, he felt a bit less like the subject of an indignity, and managed to stick out his chin in defiance of Rachel’s humiliations. “I just passed the entrance exams, so I’ll be in your upcoming student body.”

She looked between his legs, then up at him. “And what happened to your clothes, young lady?”

“I–Rachel disintegrated them, the prefect,” Daniel said, uncertainly. “She got up in my face and said I didn’t belong.”

“I see,” Dr. Madrigal sighed, reaching for a feather pen on her desk. Daniel had to do a double take at the object, realizing from its runic inscriptions that it wasn’t a pen at all, but a wand. Conjuring a simple gown, she said, “I’m sorry, Miss Aster. I’ll of course ensure this is dealt with; Alphabeta is an institution that prides itself on accepting all–”

“I’m not a Miss,” Daniel cut in, taking the gown.

“Mrs.?” the dean asked, curiously. “Or do you prefer ‘Ms.’?”

“Mister, if you please.” He dressed himself, glad to have a bit of modesty. “I’m a man.”

Dr. Madrigal blinked a couple times, absorbing that information, recalibrating her appraisal of the situation. “I… see.”

“I went over your rules exhaustively,” Daniel continued, pacing a little as he talked. “Strictly speaking, there’s nothing in the charter that explicitly prohibits male students–the only rules have to do with the entrance exams. Once you’ve passed, you’re enrolled, and that’s all there is to it. I passed. I’m going to be a student. I had to fudge some of my paperwork to get on the exam, but that doesn’t matter once the exam’s over.”

The dean leaned forward, tapping something on her desk. “Rachel Haligtree, please come back to my office.” She eyed Daniel again. “Let’s say you didn’t miss something, that you really can bypass five hundred years of tradition on a loophole–why, exactly, are you here?”

He gave her as confident a smile as he could muster. “Because, I need an education. Who are you to deny me that?”

Her face hardened, but before she could say anything else, Rachel pushed in the door.

“Miss Haligtree, did you destroy this boy’s clothes?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Rachel replied. “And I’d do it again.”

“If what he tells me is correct, he’s a student here,” the dean said. “And you know you aren’t supposed to discipline students, except for those kept under your wing.”

Rachel hesitated, swallowing her anger so hard it looked like she might choke. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Dr. Madrigal leaned forward, using her wand as an actual pen. A document apparated under it as she wrote something out, as though her writing dictated the appearance of forms and not the other way around. “I’m assigning Aster to your wing. He’s shown a propensity for skirting discipline, rules, and order, so I expect you’ll keep a very close eye on him and dispense discipline accordingly.”

Daniel blinked in surprise, glancing back nervously at Rachel.

“Is there a problem, Mister Aster?” the dean asked. “Or did you think you’d get to choose your own wing and get to be team captain in the Voxavin league?”

“No, it’s fine.” Daniel swallowed. “More than fine. Totally fair.”

“Be sure to put in your sizes for your uniform,” the dean added. “We’ve got a dress code here, and running naked through the halls hardly complies.”

“I… yes, ma’am,” Daniel said. “Are we good?”

She glanced at him over her half-moon spectacles, considered for a moment, and nodded. “You’re dismissed. Welcome to Alphabeta University.”

...

I haven't given my editor a shout-out in a while, so: Thanks to my awesome editor, Ezi, for helping me get this story to sparkle! It wouldn't be half as good without you.

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 5

“Welcome to Alphabeta,” Rachel declared, looming over Daniel with a downright chesherian grin. “I give you a week before you drop out.”

Staring back up to her, Daniel tried to forget that she’d seen him naked. He’d had most of a month to put those events behind him before the school year started, but now, with her right in front of him, the memories popped right back.

He rallied the courage he had on hand, standing up to Rachel. “Trust me–as soon as I can, I’m out of here. This is just a stepping stone to get me where I actually want to be.”

That turned Rachel’s expression sour, malicious glee twisting into anger.

“You don’t belong here, spark,” she sneered. “But you’re assigned to my wing, so you do what I say, and if you step out of line, I’ll be there to make sure you regret even daring to breathe in this space.”

Daniel doubted she could do that, but he didn’t doubt her intent. He just had to hope she was all talk.

The dormitory halls weren’t quite as grand as the entrance, but the floor was still polished marble and the walls were old hardwood stained a deep, rich brown. The design made him think of wisdom, patience, and virtue, concepts at odds with Rachel’s plain malice.

He’d planned on showing up, finding his dorm room, and unwinding a bit before opening ceremonies, but Rachel had other plans. She clearly intended to harass him all year, and didn’t want to waste her first opportunity to do so.

For now, she spun on her heels, motioning with her hand for him to follow. He scurried after her, just in case she accidentally shared information worth knowing.

Glancing over her shoulder, she looked down on him. “Is there a reason you didn’t bother wearing your uniform?”

“Well, yeah,” Daniel pressed his lips into a line, looking down at his plain pants and T-shirt. He’d ditched the girly clothes he’d bought–no need to keep up the charade any longer, even if it meant the other new students were all sending curious looks his way. “The welcome letter said I wouldn’t need to purchase anything, so I didn’t get any–was there some secret girls-only meeting where they were passed out?”

Rachel snorted with amusement, drawing the attention of a few girls walking the other way. “They’re not given out, they’re conjured. You can do a basic conjuring, right?”

Daniel hesitated.

“Well?” Rachel asked. “What is it, Mr. Hotshot?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Daniel avoided her glare as they turned down a hall, down a narrower corridor away from the bulk of the sleeping quarters. “I’m…not so good at conjuring. I’m still getting there.”

Rachel barked out a laugh, cynical and bubbling with condescension. Daniel told himself she was playing up her reaction for the crowd, but…this part of the hallway was mostly empty.

Leaning against a wall for support, Rachel wheezed. “The would-be warlock can’t even do conjurations? That’s pre-year stuff.”

“But–” Daniel started.

“Hell, I was conjuring clothes I’d copied out of magazines when I was in junior high,” Rachel continued. “This is like, kiddie stuff.”

“I’m here to learn,” Daniel growled, trying to sound fierce. “That’s the point of education, isn’t it?”

Rachel’s laugh was punctuated by a slight squeak, a reaction to his attempt at intimidation. “That’s your best macho defense for being incompetent?” she asked. “Puh-lease.”

“Well,” Daniel said. “What am I supposed to do about uniforms? I can try the conjuration, I guess, if you get me the specifications.”

“If a witch is too useless to conjure her own clothes, and isn’t part of a coven that can help her yet,” Rachel said, “Well–wouldn’t you know it? She can ask her prefect to conjure her uniform for her.”

“Eh…” Daniel said, recognizing the leverage that gave her. “On second thought, I’ll do it.”

Rachel smirked. “You just made it clear you can’t do so safely. I’ll conjure them for you, since I can’t trust you not to have any accidents,” she said, putting a particular emphasis on the last word.

“Why’d you say it like that?” Daniel asked, frowning.

She tilted her head and cast a glance over her shoulder at him, turning down the last of the long halls. “Like what?”

Daniel shrugged. “Like you were telling a joke that I don’t get.”

“Oh, we’ll get to that,” Rachel said, looking around the hall innocently. “We’re almost to your room.”

Daniel glanced about, confused. “Where are we?”

“The ‘Boys’ wing,” Rachel explained.

Looking up at her, Daniel asked, “Alphabeta has a boys’ wing?”

“We do now,” Rachel replied, a flicker of a smile playing over her lips. “But don’t think we went through any trouble. There used to be a higher ratio of prefects to students, and of students to teachers. Since growing more selective, there’s been an extra hall of rooms–extra lodging, really. We decided this would be the best place to stick you, so you’re not getting in anyone’s way.”

“Oh,” Daniel said. “So I get a prefect’s room? Sweet.”

Rachel snickered. “You do know this is a witches’ school, right?”

“Sure.” Daniel shrugged. “But I don’t see what that has to do with my room. It’s not like a separate dorm makes me a worse witch–er, warlock.”

“BZZZT, wrong,” Rachel replied. “You’re learning to be a witch, spark, whether that’s what you want or not–and witches work in covens.”

“Oookay,” Daniel said, trailing out the word while he tried to decode her meaning. “So I’ll be in a group.”

“Mhmm,” she explained. “Working with your peers. Building relationships. Group magic relies on trust, and you know what makes it hard to build trust and relationships?”

“Let me guess: Having a room far away from everyone else, being isolated, yadda yadda?” Daniel asked. He got the point, but he didn’t particularly care–lessons on witchery were the thing he cared about the least; they’d matter a little once he got to be a High Warlock with his own coven of eight but for the time being it wasn’t even on his radar.

“That’s right,” Rachel said, smugly. “If you want to be a witch, you’re going to need friends.”

“Right.” Daniel couldn’t stop himself, before adding, “So why’d they let you in here?”

He’d meant the quip to sting, but Rachel’s expression flattened to pure neutrality and she just waved at a door. “In. Now.”

Daniel pushed open the door. It was a pretty basic dorm room: a bed, a desk, a bookshelf, a dresser. Two trash bins under the desk was a little weird, but not worth commenting on. The window looking out over a summer prairie stood out the most, though he knew the view was only an illusion–they didn’t get lush prairie views half a mile below the arctic circle.

Boring, practical, with a nice view.

“To change the view, it’s a simple obscurate viewportal spell,” Rachel said, taking her wand out from the holster on her hip. “Like this.”

She called out a few words and her ribbon wand trailed through the air, sending out the magic. The window changed from a pristine prairie to a dull, flat wall, ever so slightly glossy. It took Daniel a moment to get it–he was literally watching paint dry.

“There,” Rachel said. “I think that’s a more engaging view, don’t you?”

“Put it back,” Daniel snapped, annoyed.

“Do it yourself, I’m not your nanny,” Rachel sneered. “I just showed you the spell, didn’t I?”

Daniel knew he was caught. He could give up and leave the window as is, or he could demonstrate what they both knew–he didn’t have the precision skills to repeat the spell.

Grumbling, he gave up, unwilling to take the bait and demonstrate his incompetence for Rachel a second time. “Okay, fine. Very funny. Is there anything else, or can I get my uniform and get ready for the opening ceremonies?”

“Fine,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “Since you’re being fussy, this is appropriate now anyways.”

“Just conjure my clothes already, and I’ll–” Daniel frowned at Rachel’s giggling response. “What?”

She stepped forward, turning to face him. “You haven’t put it together yet, spark?”

“Put what together?” Daniel asked.

Extending her wand so that the ribbon drifted all the way down to the floor, Rachel said, “You came to a witch’s school, Danny boy, and they put me in charge of your accommodations. Boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ room, after all, and I don’t think it’s appropriate to let you have the privilege of using the staff restrooms.”

“Eh…” Daniel frowned, his brow furrowing. “So, what? Is there a bucket I have to use, or…?”

“I thought about it,” Rachel conceded. “But you don’t know how to do vanishings, do you? And I’m certainly not coming to clean up after you.”

She was right. He swallowed, not liking where this was going.

“So,” Rachel said. “Hold still. I’m going to get you into uniform.”

Before Daniel could object, she spun her wand in the air, creating a fluttering circle of ribbon that formed into a magical pool, directed right at him. He took a step back, nervously, but then the circle of deep power lashed out, going over his body from his head to down to his toes, transmuting his clothes every step of the way.

At first, it was expected. A tall, pointed hat flopped onto his head, a bit too big for him, a bit lopsided, so tall that the tip fell off to the left. Two black ribbons appeared in his hair, and the shirt unwove and reformed from the same thread, turning from a plain tee to a creased white top with plaid red tie that hung down to his belly button. A long sleeve jacket formed over it all, and he had to admit–it fit great.

Then the spell got down to his waist. His shorts morphed and poofed out, turning to a matching plaid miniskirt that only came down halfway to his knees. He felt something else happening, too; his boxers seemed to suddenly swell, as though there was a pillow knitting itself into shape between his thighs.

Finally, before he could investigate what’d happened to his underwear, the magic moved down below his knees. His socks extended in length, climbing up to his thighs and capping off with lace, transmuted into cotton stockings, and to cap it off his shoes became shiny, black kitten-heel pumps.

Daniel blinked down at himself, unsure what he’d expected. This was the school uniform–Rachel was wearing almost the same thing, though her skirt came down much further.

“What’s with the miniskirt?” he demanded.

“It’s within regulation,” Rachel smirked, already prepared to answer. “Minimum length is twelve inches. If you don’t like it, conjure your own.”

Daniel accepted that. It wasn’t that bad, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy showing so much leg. He had to know something else, though–putting a thumb in the waist of the skirt, he pulled it out so he could see–

“Hey!” Daniel objected, eyes widening. “Why the hell did you put me in a… In a…”

“You still haven’t figured it out, have you?” Rachel snorted. “That’s precious.”

Daniel pulled up the skirt completely, so he could be certain he hadn’t mistaken anything, but it was plain as day: A puffy white diaper had been conjured between his legs, with cheerful wetness indicator stars and moons printed down the crotch.

“A diaper isn’t part of the uniform regulation,” Daniel shot. “This is crap.”

Satisfied with his reaction, Rachel leaned against the door. Visibly savoring how flustered and mad Daniel had grown, she said, “Oh, no crap yet–unless you really need to go potty that bad, I guess.”

“I’m taking this off,” Daniel said.

“You’re doing no such thing,” Rachel replied, raising her hand to count off. “Let’s go down the list, shall we? First: You’re not allowed in any girls-only spaces. Second: This school wasn’t built with any boy spaces in mind. Third: I’m in charge of ensuring your needs get met, including deciding how and where you go to the toilet. Fourth, and I cannot stress this enough: I hate you.”

He blinked. “Wait, no. You can’t be serious.”

Rachel laughed. “Sure you don’t want to quit yet, potty pants?”

Daniel started to shake his head. “No, but–

“Diaper pail’s under your desk.” Rachel holstered her wand. “I confirmed with the dean, and she agreed with my idea: We’ve officially declared that diapers are part of your uniform. When you need a changie-poo, there’s spares in your dresser. Oh, and if you think to try anything–if we catch you out of your drawers, you won’t like the results. The dean said you should at least be allowed to change your baby bottoms for now–give me a reason, I’ll take that away, and then we’ll see how Mr. Big Powerful Warlock likes asking his prefect for didee changes.”

Gaping, caught without words, Daniel just stood there holding up his skirt, face bright red.

Rachel pursed her lips, mouth quirking at the corner into a thoughtful smirk. Taking out her wand, she cast one last spell, power lashing past him, to the window.

Then she slammed the door behind her, and Daniel could hear her strutting away down the hall.

One thing was certain–Rachel wasn’t done coming up with ways to make his school experience hell. She wanted him gone, and this was just a taste of how she’d bend the rules to push him out.

Daniel turned to look at the window, at what she’d conjured. He saw a recursive view–the window was looking into his own room, with him right in the center, probably an exact duplicate of what Rachel had seen a moment ago.

He now had an excellent view of himself, holding up his skirt to show off the diaper that’d been summoned between his legs. Blushing, humiliated, and forever frozen in the moment, never lowering the skirt or regaining any of his dignity.

Daniel ground his teeth.

He hated bullies, he hated people who lorded their authority over others to get what they wanted. When he became High Warlock, the first thing he’d do is find anyone like that and remove them from power.

For now, though, he’d just have to deal with it. Let Rachel throw whatever she could at him. He was up for the challenge.

...

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 6

“Come…on…” Daniel grunted, tugging down at the hem of his plaid miniskirt.

The efforts got him nowhere. No matter how much he tried, there would always either be a very, very obvious waistband poking out the top, or a pillowy bulge that would reveal itself if he moved his legs even a little. 

He’d put together a fix for it–a little adjusting spell that’d increase the length of the skirt by about six inches. An easy, straightforward spell.

The less said about how that went, the better. He hoped nobody would ask why he’d thrown away a diaper that was eight inches thick around the crotch, and was trying to forget the absurd pillowy feeling he’d been struck with.

He’d perfect the spell later and get his wardrobe fixed. For now, he had the opening ceremonies to attend, and no good way to hide the diaper he’d been sealed into. He’d just have to hope nobody stared at his butt and get it over with. 

Gathering up everything he thought he might need–wand, catalysts, and most important of all, a notebook–he checked the time. The assembly had crept up on him, he only had fifteen minutes. As long as he walked quickly, he’d have time, but he’d have to stay on task and not get lost. 

The prefect’s lodging, away from the rest of the student dorms, was relatively empty when he left. Everyone else was out, busy with socializing and getting familiar with the university space. Meeting people. Preparing for classes. He’d been too preoccupied with failing to hide his diaper. 

Pulling his bag close to his chest, Daniel shuffled down the hallway, trying not to take short steps. Long steps sent his skirt flapping and revealed his diaper, but short, even steps helped the fabric fall down a little straighter, providing a modicum of visible protection. The pronounced waddle in his step from the significant bulk was harder to hide, but as he walked, he got a little more used to it.

(I don’t want to be used to it,) he thought. 

Then again, he might not have a choice in that. It’d be nine months like this, minus Christmas break. 

He paused as he came to an intersection. There was a direct path from the edge of the dorms to the Grand Hall, probably, but he wasn’t certain which way to turn. He could navigate all the way back to the entry hall, the hub of the school where five great arches led to the school’s five wings, but that would take way too long. He didn’t want to be late.

“Hey!” 

Daniel spun, instinctively yanking down on his skirt, hiding the seat of his diaper.

Another student stood behind him, dressed in a similar uniform, albeit one with a bit more modesty. Her hat was the most different, it was petite, with the point only sticking up six inches, and red ribbon curled around the brim–a style that narrowly stayed within uniform parameters while adding some splash to the outfit. 

Daniel took a second to realize he recognized her–she’d lost the bandaid over her nose, and had on a pair of full moon glasses that drew attention to her blue eyes, but her face was otherwise pretty much the same.

“It’s Daniel, right?” she asked, looking him up and down. “I heard about you–kind of hard not to, it took a second to realize you were the person next to me in the test, but then I was like, ‘Oh hey, I know him! Kinda! I mean, we didn’t really talk, but we interacted a bit. Thanks for the nose trick, by the way–did you really strip naked after you passed?” 

“No!” Daniel reeled at the barrage of words he’d been assaulted with, struggling to answer the question. “I–Rachel, the prefect. She took my wand and, uh. Did that.” 

The girl smirked, then covered her mouth and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I–I wasn’t giggling at you.”

“Yeah, you were,” Daniel rolled his eyes, turning to start finding his way to the assembly. 

“No, wait–” she ran up, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “For?”

“For…giggling at you,” she conceded. “I shouldn’t have. I mean, it’s kinda funny in a cartoon way, but it’s mean, and I don’t want to be mean, and she shouldn’t have–look, I’m Jen. You’re headed to the assembly, right?” 

“Right,” Daniel said, suspicious of a trap. 

“I found a shortcut earlier. Or, well, I got lost. It’s a quick way, though, I’ll show you,” Jen said. “As an apology.” 

Daniel weighed his options. On the one hand, if this girl had malicious intent, she could easily just lead him away from the assembly, he’d be late, and Rachel would surely use this as an opportunity to invent some sort of new, terrible punishment.

On the other, Jen would be late too, and there were easier ways to mess with someone that wouldn’t involve getting herself in trouble. Besides, she seemed authentic–painfully authentic, in fact, and too scatterbrained to be duplicitous. 

“Sure,” Daniel agreed. Deciding that a bit of diplomacy couldn’t hurt, he added, “And thanks, it’s nice to actually meet someone friendly around here.” 

Jen beamed, turning to walk down one of the arches. “I mean, I don’t really get why you decided to enroll here and not a warlock school, but that’s no reason to be mean about it.”

“Yeah, try explaining that to Rachel,” Daniel suggested. “She’s…yeah. Been a bit of a nightmare.”

“I’ve heard rumors,” Jen said, glancing over at him as she guided them through a fork in the hall.

Daniel caught Jen’s look, and his eyes darted down before he could help himself. Jen’s gaze naturally followed his, and she saw the waistband of his diaper, poking out obviously from the top of his skirt.

Flushing pink, Daniel yanked the skirt up, but overcompensated, flashing the puffy, round bottom of his padding instead. With a third adjustment, he finally got a little modesty, but it was too late.

Jen stared, blue eyes growing huge behind her glasses. Finally, she couldn’t help it–a squeak escaped her lips. She tried to catch herself, clapping hands over her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to plug the flood of giggles that poured out of her. 

Sighing, Daniel rolled his eyes. “Go ahead and ask, I know you want to.”

Hesitating for a moment, swallowing her laughs down with visible effort, Jen finally asked, “How come you’re wearing a diaper?” 

Despite knowing that the question was coming, Daniel still turned pink. “It’s…Rachel. I said she’s a nightmare, right?” 

“I’ve heard they go for creative detention here, but sheesh,” Jen said, nodding, the humor leaving her face a bit. “How long?”

“It’s…not detention,” Daniel said. “I’m not technically in trouble, at least not officially. The dean couldn’t think of a reason to punish me, but she clearly wanted to, so Rachel’s getting to make up rules I have to follow. It’s just malice, a creative excuse to try and make me quit without saying that out loud.” 

Jen whistled. “And you’ve got to, erm… use them?” 

Glancing away, Daniel didn’t answer that directly. Jen still got the point.

“I mean, I guess if you can go in your room it’s not so bad,” she said, musing out loud. “I mean, it’s kinda gross, but nobody would be there to see so it’s kind of just like if you pee your pants in the pool–oh, but then you don’t just pee, you’ve gotta–”

“Jen,” Daniel snapped. “Please. I don’t need the play by play.”

“Sorry,” Jen squeaked. “Just…my mom says there’s a big empty space between my brain and my mouth where good sense is supposed to go.” 

It was Daniel’s turn to whistle. “Oof. She said that to your face?” 

“Oh, she didn’t mean anything by it, she’s just…” Jen hesitated, coming to another fork in the hall. “Er…”

To the right was a hallway, but if Daniel had any sense of direction at all, he knew it led away from the direction they were supposed to be going. The other way was a staircase, down into an unlit, abandoned corridor. “Are you sure this is the right way?” 

“Yeah,” Jen replied. “I think…er, yeah. Okay, it was just lit last time. Like I said, it’s a shortcut. The normal path leads us, like, halfway around campus. This way we can cut under some halls, through a couple faculty areas, and get there straight away.”

Again, suspicion struck Daniel. This could be a setup for a prank, or something a lot more intense than a ‘prank’. Judging by how badly Rachel’d been treating him, out in the open, he was wary about wandering into a shady, unobserved space.

Then again, he was running out of time, and doubling back to find his way normally would mean he ended up late. 

“Sure,” he said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Let’s just get there, I can’t afford more trouble.” 

“Just this way.” Jen pointed, her voice low as she went down the stairs. “Just…let’s not be too chatty here.”

Daniel followed her down, checking over his shoulder as they descended into the dark corridor. “You’re telling me to be quiet?”

“Rude.”

“You laughed at my diaper.”

“I apologized.”

“Right. Sorry.” 

“I forgive you.” Jen shrugged, finishing her statement from earlier. “Yeah, quiet though. I don’t think it’s technically against the rules to be down here, but all the same…”

“We don’t want to get caught. Got it.” 

Daniel kept his mouth shut as they walked the back hall. Unlike the grand, regal corridors of the main university, this could have been a back room in any mall or conference hall the world over. Plain hallways with off-white walls, plain cheap doors, and a simple number system rather than more dramatic names like the ‘Grand Hall’ or the ‘Tillander Wing’ or whatever. 

As they passed perhaps the hundredth nondescript door to an old room, Daniel heard a crash, and his back straightened. He turned to look behind him, and Jen looked as alarmed as he was. 

Casting their gaze around, he heard more loud noises–breaking glass and shouts, coming from one of the rooms. Creeping towards it, he pressed his ear, listening. 

“This is unacceptable!” The voice sounded feminine, but deeply modulated, warped and crackling as though it had been run repeatedly through a record player at the wrong speed. “You said the energy here would be sufficient–now you’re telling me it’s not?” 

“Professor, I explained–” Another woman, more timid, more uncertain, and much more clear–no modulation on her voice at all. 

“You explained,” the first voice shot back, so warped it could have been a banshee. “And explained, and explained, until you were so covered in explanations that any monumental setback could be excused–I don’t want explanations. I want results.” 

Sighing, the regular voice took on an air of fatigued repetition. “I’m taking readings across the school, like you asked, don’t blame me if the result doesn't match what you wished for–some of these hallways, like the one I’m in now? They’re a straight up dead zone. If you want power, you’ll have to wait. The date I gave is accurate. Besides, you’ll have better links then, you won’t need to cook up any excuses–”

“You’re certain? This isn’t another one of your explanations?” 

“Yes, I’m certain.” 

Jen fell in across from Daniel, facing him, pressing her own ear to the door to listen. 

“These fools have no idea what they’ve built,” the first voice continued. “If they did, they’d have never let these children toy around with such power.”

“They’re all legally adul–”

“Do I care?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t try to humanize them. They’ll be gone this time next year, and then–”

Jen, unable to help herself, let out a little squeak of alarm. Her hands clapped over her mouth, and this time she managed to stifle any further noise, but it was too late.

The conversation stopped. Jen looked at Daniel, and their eyes widened together in fear.

The dominant voice spoke again, utterly demonic. “Go.” 

Daniel looked up and down the hall. There was no good place to run to, the hallway extended straight in either direction, and if they hid in a room, the woman looking for them could just check doors till she found them. They couldn’t both hide.

He invented a plan, and without time to explain it, quickly mouthed, ‘Hide!’

Jen seemed uncertain, but there was no time to argue. She scurried away, checking doors until she found a closet that opened.

Daniel, meanwhile, straightened, stepped a door down, and yanked on the handle. It was locked, but he didn’t care–he just shouted, loudly, “Come on! There’s got to be a bathroom–”

Someone stepped into the hallway, and Daniel faced them, trying for all the world to look like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “Hi! Uh–”

The woman–an adult, though she didn’t have a teacher’s uniform, glared at him. It was dark enough that he had trouble making out her face too clearly, but by the gray curls on her head, she seemed to be on the older side of life. “What are you doing down here?” 

He blushed. “Rachel–the prefect, Ms. Haligtree–uh… well it’s… I needed a bathroom.” 

The woman hesitated, pulling out a wand and conjuring a bit of light. Now that he could see her, he confirmed she was a stranger–just an older woman, maybe in her fifties. “There are plenty of student bathrooms. Why–”

Pulling back his hair, Daniel let her see his face clearly. “I’m Daniel, the… uh, the boy. I’m not supposed to…yeah…” 

He had Rachel’s threats fresh in his mind, so he just had to hope that either this woman didn’t know he had a hardass prefect, or she did, but would believe that Daniel was naive or cocky enough to try and get away with it.

The woman’s eyes narrowed for a moment, thinking. 

(Please don’t question it… Please don’t question it…) Daniel prayed.

Finally, she walked up to him, grabbing him by the ear. “This area is for faculty only, and we’ve been told about your special case–you shouldn’t be trying to find a bathroom at all.”

“Ow! Ow!” Daniel winced, as she dragged him down the hall. “Hey, where–”

She offered no mercy, pulling on his ear hard, doing an excellent part in acting like an annoyed staff member with no ulterior motives. “Let’s see what Ms. Haligtree has to say about your little detour. I’m sure she’ll find it very interesting.”

Daniel swallowed, but he couldn’t do much to argue except stagger along, trying desperately to keep his footing and keep her from yanking on his ear too much.

He glanced back, and saw Jen peeking out of the closet, terrified but hidden. He winked at her, and she nodded back. 

The woman got him into a public hall, but didn’t let up on leading him, all the way up the stairs, down a hall, and to the side of the grand hall. 

“Wait right here,” the woman snapped, turning to walk into the hall. While the door was open, Daniel heard the beginnings of an introductory speech going on. Not only was he in trouble–he was late. 

A second later, Daniel heard a squeak, and just about jumped out of his skirt. Turning, he saw Jen, wide-eyed.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “What the heck–”

“Get out of here,” Daniel said. “I’ll be fine. They think I was just trying to find a bathroom. Get inside, before they notice you’re with me!” 

“And abandon you?” she asked.

He threw up his hands. “Yes!”

She hesitated, looking like she wanted to argue, but finally turned and scurried down the side of the grand hall, to another entrance.  

Only a minute later, the older woman appeared, Rachel Haligtree in tow. 

“Hah!” the prefect declared, leering. “You couldn’t make it twenty minutes without breaking the rules, huh, spark?” 

The woman–some kind of faculty, clearly, turned and faced Rachel. “He was wandering the faculty halls, looking for a boy’s toilet.”

Rachel laughed. “Wow, a rule breaker and stupid. Well, don’t worry ma’am–I’ll make sure he gets disciplined properly.” 

Daniel flushed–even though his ploy had worked, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to whatever Rachel had in mind as punishment. 

As the woman walked away, Rachel grabbed Daniel’s wrist. He shook his head, hoping he could get out of this. “I can explain, I wasn’t–”

“Shove it, spark,” Rachel replied. “I don’t really care what excuse comes out of your mouth right now.” 

He pointed the way the woman had gone, hoping to convey a bit of urgency without giving away the depth of his concern. “Who was that woman?”

Rachel shrugged. “Honestly? No idea. Probably faculty, but that’s not the point. You couldn’t get through orientation without fucking up, could you?”

“Erm…I guess not?”

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” Rachel loomed over him, taking full advantage of the height difference between the two of them. “Well let’s clear something up, then. You ass? It belongs to me.”

Daniel swallowed. 

“Now.” Rachel tilted her head to the side, gears turning as she thought. “Let’s talk punishment.” 

...

Well...that's troubling. 😲

I'm sure Rachel will go easy on him though, right? Right?

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 7

“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.

...

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 8

Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

There didn’t seem to be any way to position his weight without feeling the muck in his diaper clinging to his skin. If he sat back, everything squelched forward, and he really didn’t want it going forward. When he sat forward, it mushed up the back and made him fear a blowout–and the only situation that might be more publicly humiliating than a visible dirty diaper would be a visibly blown out diaper.

Of course, constantly wriggling back and forth wasn’t helping any, but he couldn’t help himself. Everything about this was new and deeply unpleasant. 

Jen, sitting next to him, seemed to fidget almost as much as he did, even though she had no particular reason to–fiddling with the loose threads of her scarf, she played them between her fingers so much he thought she might pull the garment apart. 

The eyes of nearby girls kept glancing his way. He could hear comments being whispered, and the giggles that followed those comments almost immediately–jokes and rumors at his expense. 

He’d have to do something about that eventually, but for now, Daniel tried to listen to the orientation, the reason he’d come here. 

The dean had conceded the stage, giving way to a woman in her mid fifties with silvery patches covering much of her skin–her hands, her right ear, even a part of her face. She’d begun her introduction a few moments ago, and Daniel had to play back his memory for a moment to catch himself up. 

(Professor Saito Sora, potion master.) 

Someone a couple rows ahead whispered, “Is that a skin condition?” 

A second girl shook her head. “No, I heard it’s from an alchemical accident.”

A third, “I heard she lost a bunch of parts in the war and had to replace–”

A fourth, “What war?” 

A fifth, “Shut up!” 

Daniel shook off the chatter, focusing on the presentation. “...Freshmen should know, there will be no brewing outside of class hours while you’re here at Alphabeta. You will only make the potions required for your lessons, and only under the supervision of myself or one of my teaching assistants. Junior and Senior students may be given a pass for unsupervised brewing, but only for specific needs.” 

Leaning forward, she scowled at the whole student body, as though each of them had personally wronged her. “You will not free brew under my watch. Potions will by made by the book. If you don’t, and I find out, you could get seriously injured.” 

“Jeez,” Jen muttered. “Is it just me, or did that sound like a threat?” 

One of the girls in front of them shot a glare over their shoulder, making a face at Daniel. 

(Oh, come on–I’m not even the one who talked!) 

He shrugged sheepishly, and after an exaggerated show of sneering and wrinkling her nose, the girl looked away. 

While Professor Saito stepped away, a familiar face stood from the row of chairs at the back of the stage. Velma–or, she’d be Professor Blackburn now, the teacher who’d been in charge of grading their entrance exams. 

“Most of you know me,” she said, looking out at the room. “You can refer to me as Professor Blackburn, or simply Blackburn, and I’m here to make sure you’ve got friends.” 

That got a round of chuckles–even Daniel smirked, though he didn’t totally get the joke.

“In all seriousness, your coven is going to be more than just a friend circle. Many of the freshmen have requested to be in a specific coven–and my returning students know you’re going to be disappointed to see that I’ve denied most of your requests. We’re not building cliques here, and we’re not interested in turning covens into gossip circles.” She waited for that moment to pass. “Your coven will be a second family to you, and you don’t get to pick your family. The team building tools you develop together will be crucially important, and they need to go deeper than mere friend relationships–as such, you will not be allowed to switch to a different group except in extreme circumstances, as it would not be fair to the other women in your coven.” 

(Women,) Daniel thought, pursing his lips. (Not everyone in my coven will be women, though.) 

Chances are, this speech had been written months prior, if it wasn’t recycled every year word for word. It didn’t surprise him that the language hadn’t been changed just for him, but he wondered if that, too, was a veiled threat. They were only concerned with fairness towards the women in the student body, not Daniel. 

(Is Blackburn against me too?)

Maybe he was being paranoid, but the dean had all but publicly condoned bullying Daniel a moment before, so he felt justified in his paranoia. 

“Your coven assignments will be posted outside the hall when we’re done here. Disregard your preconceptions. Some of you will be assigned to a coven with women you can’t stand–and, I got permission from the Dean to say this: Tough shit, suck it up and find someone else to complain to. If you can’t make friends, you don’t belong in my class, or this institution. Thank you.” 

Velma’s voice was amplified through the hall by magic; she had no mic to drop. Still, her point had been made, and she stepped back, glancing around. Clearly confused, she looked to Dean Madrigal, seated at the end of the row of teachers. 

“Where’s Glinse?” she asked, voice still carrying. Glancing out at the student body, she waved a hand, silencing the spell so that she could confer privately. 

Standing, the dean walked up to the center of stage, pulling the amplifying spell onto herself. “On the subject of the Voxavin league,” she began, and Daniel could just barely notice the annoyance in her tone. “We’ve been selected–”

A side door–the same door Daniel had made his humiliating entrance through, in fact, flew open, and a pale woman hurried in. She didn’t raise her voice or cause a stir, but the dean’s silence drew all eyes onto the woman, watching as she scurried onto stage. She was tall, and had a frame like she spent a lot of time watching other people exercise–Daniel pegged her as a gym teacher. 

Accepting a harsh glance from the dean, the woman walked up to centerstage. 

“Greetings, hello, I’m Catherine Glinse.” She paused, as though expecting a reaction. When she didn’t get one, she continued, losing a bit of steam. “I’ll be coaching you through Voxavin.”

That, at least, got a reaction–interest from a lot of the girls, particularly the freshmen, who leaned in keenly. It also confirmed Daniel’s guess–Voxavin was, for all intents and purposes, Witch Gym. 

“All of you are required to participate in Voxavin practice, though you won’t be required to play in the league if your coven doesn’t wish it. The sport has an illustrious history amongst Witches, and we carry that tradition forward. Not only is victory in Voxavin one of the highest honors and greatest achievements a witch can achieve, it’s crucial to your education, your Coven. The skills you learn playing with your sisters of magic will stay with you for the rest of your life, and–if you’re lucky–you’ll end up…” She trailed off for a moment, gazing into the middle distance. “Three of the past seven high covens had members who were collegiate Voxavin champions. This could define your future.” 

She started to turn away, but stopped when the dean cleared her throat. 

Turning back, she added, “Oh and we’re hosting the school games this year. Try to win, it’s embarrassing when the host school gets beaten. Good luck.” 

While Daniel gawked at her presentation, and how poorly put together it’d been, Jen leaned over and whispered to him. “Why do you suppose she was late?” 

Daniel shrugged. (Laziness? Or–)

He went cold, realizing Jen’s implication.

Someone had been behind that door, after all, ranting about power.

Was Catherine Glinse their mystery voice? 

The thought tickled at the back of his brain, distracting him through the rest of the presentation–a few other teachers introduced themselves, explaining details of their job that wouldn’t be obvious at a glance and generally giving an overview of what to expect. 

Daniel was so distracted, he even stopped fidgeting in his seat. It was like breathing–while it’d been on his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, his attention drawn to every detail of the discomfort. Now that he’d been distracted, it fell back into the white noise of the world around him.

(I need to learn more about Catherine Glinse.) 

When the ceremony ended, girls everywhere stood, shuffling out in an excited rush. Daniel just turned to Jen, hoping she might know more about the world of Voxavin. “Do you know–”

“Come on,” Jen said, apparently unaware that he’d spoken at the same time. “We have to go find out what coven we’re in!” 

Daniel blinked. “Oh, yeah, but–” 

“Oh,” Jen said, mistaking his hesitation. “I…oh! Right, your, um. Uh–can’t you just tie your jacket around your waist?” 

Blinking, Daniel said, “Er…I didn’t–I was distracted, okay?” 

“Well, no time like the present,” Jen said, lowering her tone. “I mean, it’s not like anyone will forget, but at least they won’t be able to see your, y’know…diaper.” 

The extra emphasis she gave the word, speaking in a stage whisper, made Daniel more self-conscious rather than less, but he didn’t raise the point. “I…yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks.”

“I mean, it’s something, right? And something’s better than nothing, so, yeah. You’re welcome!” 

Shrugging out of his uniform jacket, Daniel was faced with a question–it wasn’t a skirt, he couldn’t fashion it to cover things completely, he had to pick–hide the back, or the front? The bottom of his diaper would be visible from one angle for another. He could have asked for Jen’s jacket, too, but that just felt awkward, so he chose to cover up the back, letting his jacket drape over the drooping diaper seat. 

“Now come on!” Jen insisted, grabbing him by the hand and pulling Daniel towards the exit, leading him through a sea of students, pushing forward in her haste to find out who they’d been assigned with. “You were saying, by the way?”

“Huh?” Daniel asked, struggling to keep up. He would never in a million years get used to the feeling of walking around in a fully loaded diaper, let alone speedwalking in one. 

“Earlier–you said, ‘Do you know,’ what were you asking if I knew?” Jen clarified. 

Trying to keep his head low and avoid the sneering glances directed his way, Daniel said, “Oh, you did hear–do you know much about this Glinse woman?” 

“I think she’s been the coach here for forever,” Jen explained. “But I dunno–okay, find our names!” 

Daniel looked up as they stepped out into the hallway. The outer chamber was as grand as the actual assembly hall, and large illusions were cast up on the far wall, an enormous list of names, separating the girls into their covens. 

“I think Glinse might be the voice we heard,” Daniel said.

“Oh, sure,” Jen agreed, nodding as she read through coven lists. “I mean, maybe–what’s your last name, so I don’t get you confused? Oh, wait, I guess there’s not many ‘Daniel’s up here, but still.”

“It’s Aster,” Daniel supplied automatically. 

“Aster, Aster…oh, there I am!” Jen said, pointing excitedly. “I… oh. I don’t know any of those people.” 

Daniel hadn’t really expected that there’d be such a giant coincidence, but he still felt a twinge of disappointment to not be in Jen’s coven. She’d been nice to him, the only friendly face he’d really met in the school so far. 

He found his own coven a moment later, reading off the names: Soga Asami, Hazel Saunders, Mathilde Travere, Radha Gole, and Cassandra Clay. Like Jen, he didn’t know them. These were the strangers he’d be stuck with until he got into a proper Warlock college. 

He’d just have to hope he didn’t end up in a group with five Rachels. 

...

This chapter is another one that is completely original from the V1 version of the story - There was a tiny bit of the introduction, but the teachers and most of the class introductions were nonexistent. I'm so glad I added this

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[Bonsai]

I wonder if the concept of transgender witches was ever object of fiction.

[PeculiarChangeling]

7 hours ago, Bonsai said:

I wonder if the concept of transgender witches was ever object of fiction.

I'm quite certain it has been! (And, for the record, Alphabeta is a trans-inclusive school.)

I'm not sure of stories that specifically use the idea of, 'only women can be witches' and uses that as part of a trans narrative, but I'd get a tall pointy hat and eat it if a story like that didn't exist out in the world somewhere already.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 9

After the acute humiliation of his first few hours at the school had faded, Daniel expected that the rest of his day would pass by with reasonable ease, and a minimum of giggles at his expense. Only one thing stood out, and that was a humiliation of a more private sort–changing his own diaper.

That, at least, he could do in the privacy of his own room, but privacy didn’t totally bury the shame. Even alone, he still had two eyes judging him the whole time–his own. 

The whole thing just proved to be profoundly, acutely awkward. He didn’t know if there was a shower he could use, but even if there was, he didn’t know if it’d be private, or what access would be like. For the moment, he had to deal with this on his own with the supplies provided. 

Baby wipes and a pail did not feel up to the task, not after how thoroughly Rachel had forced him to fill his diaper, and certainly not after he’d been sitting in it for a couple hours. 

Even then, working through the awkward, slow process of wiping himself clean was not what hit Daniel the hardest. Going through dozens of wipes, trying to clean away muck that seemed to perpetually return, working at an angle that made it difficult to see? That was frustrating and humiliating, but the worst part was the implication.

If he’d been half the mage Rachel was, he could do this with magic.

If he’d been a warlock, he could have done this with magic.

But, because he was no warlock, he had to spend twenty minutes cleaning up his poopy diaper. 

At least he didn’t have any other classes for the day–it was expected that they’d use this first day to get familiar with the campus, make friends, unpack, and generally get settled. He could have sought out his new coven members, tried to socialize, but Daniel had other goals. 

He wanted to figure out what he’d overheard. Plot, ploy, or whatever the hell–someone in the school wanted to accomplish some nefarious, secret end. 

Daniel’s first impulse was to pass the buck, but he’d long since come up with reasons not to. 

Reason the First: He didn’t know who was involved. He’d heard two voices, so even if his hunch about the Voxavin coach participating was correct, there was no certainty about who the other might be. If Penelope Madrigal was involved, and he went to her and explained everything he knew, she’d be perfectly situated to retaliate and stop him from sharing what he’d found out. 

Reason the Second: He lacked proof of any kind, and Madrigal hated him. She’d all but told the student body to bully Daniel, after all. His story would probably just sound like a weak excuse for being out of bounds, and lead to further reprisal, humiliation, and punishment. 

Reason the Third: If Daniel solved everything on his own, discovered the culprit, and unveiled the conspiracy all in one fell swoop, it’d look great on an application.

He told himself that the first two reasons were the important motivators, and would never admit the third motive to anyone else, but he couldn’t deny it held a bit of allure. ‘I’m the warlock who saved Alphabeta’ would, in truth, be the best possible legacy of his time here. He wouldn’t just get an education, he’d get a positive reputation, saving the school that actively wanted him to fail. 

So, rather than seeking out the dean, or even Jen, he instead traced his steps right back to where it’d all started. 

He wasn’t stupid about it. He checked around corners and generally obeyed all the rules of stealth he’d learned from movies, spreading out his arms, crouching low, moving silently and listening for anyone who might be around.

The prefects’ dormitories were only sparsely populated, and just like last time, the hallway itself was unlit and abandoned, barely remarkable except as an ill-used wing of the campus. Daniel had no issue slipping down it, and this time he made sure to check for closets and hiding spaces as he went, in case he encountered any other teachers or staff and had to evade future punishments. 

Daniel had to resist the temptation to hum the Mission Impossible theme as he went, though it ultimately didn’t matter. On his way to the room where he’d overheard the sinister conversation, he encountered not a single soul.

Or…well, that wasn’t exactly true.

He located the same room, identifying it by the faded numbers on the door. When he reached for the handle, though, he felt a slight chill and pulled his hand back. 

(Is this stupid? What if it’s warded, or trapped? I don’t know who I’m dealing with.) 

Even if his control was weak, he was a sort-of warlock, he had magic at his disposal. Precision might be beyond him, but he could identify magical power if he tried. Crouched in the hall, Daniel closed his eyes, extending his senses.

Nothing stuck out to him right away. No big, obvious screw-you spells were woven into the door to blow up anyone who tried to open it, not even the sensation of magical static. The people behind the door had mentioned the hall being a dead zone, and what he could feel lined up with that.

Still, that didn’t rule out subtler traps or wards. Tightening his face, Daniel searched a little harder. 

He could feel something. A whisper of power, something in motion, something he couldn’t identify. Maybe a spell, maybe the lingering results of an enchantment, maybe a mistake. Focusing a little harder, Daniel concentrated his senses, trying to follow every spark of magic, grunting slightly–

“Are you pooping yourself?” 

The voice came from nowhere, and Daniel’s eyes shot open in alarm, stumbling back. He looked around, but nobody had snuck up on him–nobody he could see, anyways. 

“Who’s there?” he yelped. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you, sunshine.” The voice tittered. It was feminine–not a surprise–but the voice didn’t seem to come from anywhere. “If you gotta go, you gotta go.” 

“I–” Daniel started. “I wasn’t pooping myself, I was just crouching down.”

“Really? Crouched down, face all screwed up, and let’s not even start on these.” With the last word, a puff of wind seemed to come from nowhere, flapping Daniel’s skirt up so that his diaper was flashed to the empty hall. Daniel felt an intense chill around the seat of his diaper, and hastily pushed the skirt down. 

“I don’t need these!” he snapped, spinning in the hall. “And–stop that! Where are you?”

“You’re wearing diapers for fun? Are you just some kind of dork, or has fashion taken a really weird turn lately?” the voice asked. Daniel felt the coldness move between his legs around to the front. He crossed his hands over his crotch self consciously just as the voice said, “When did they start letting weird diaper dork boys into the school?” 

“Shut–hey!” Daniel shot again, stepping back. “Are you invisible? Where are you?” 

“I’m over here,” she replied. Daniel blinked, and she added, “No, a little to the left–a little more–there.” 

Daniel was staring at a bit of wall in a blank hallway. There definitely wasn’t anything to see, and reaching out, all he felt was a slight chill. 

“Yup, found me,” the voice said. “Though–move your hand, casanova, or we’re going to have a conversation about hypocrisy here in a second.

“I don’t get it,” Daniel said, stepping back. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? Who are you?”  

He felt a chill breeze pass over him again, like someone’d just walked over his grave, and the voice whispered right in his ear. “I’ll give you a hint: Boo!” 

His eyes widened. “You’re–”

“An incorporeal, post-life entity,” the voice said, her intonation slipping into a teacherly affectation. “Left behind as the result of a traumatic death surrounded by extreme magical energies. Also known, in some circles, as a ghost.” 

“Oh, uh…” he swallowed, uncertain how to handle that revelation. “I see.”

“No you don’t, dummy.” 

Daniel frowned. “I beg your pardon?”  

“I said ‘incorporeal’. No body means nothing to refract light,” she explained. “So you couldn’t ‘see’ that I’m a ghost.” 

“Okay, well… I’m sorry to hear that,” Daniel said, quickly adding, “And I can hear that.”

She giggled. “It’s okay, I don’t remember dying. My mom always said I’d sleep through my own funeral–and she was pretty darn close, I slept through my death!” 

Daniel hesitated. “So when I feel a chill, was that me touching you?”

“Closest thing to it–I can’t really touch stuff, but I can kind of…move energy around, just a little. It’s like if touching was homeopathic.” 

Daniel frowned. “So when I felt cold between my legs a moment ago…”

“You’re just dodging explaining why you’re wearing a diaper,” the voice continued.

“It’s this stupid thing with my prefect,” Daniel explained, rolling his eyes. “I managed to get into this school by working around the rules, so she’s getting back at me by making me wear diapers. And before you ask, yes, I’m ‘potty trained’ or whatever, I don’t actually need them.” 

“I wasn’t going to ask if you needed them,” she replied. 

Daniel frowned a little, surprised at her lack of curiosity. “Oh, well–I don’t.” 

With a coy giggle, the voice asked, “I was going to ask if you used them.” 

Turning pink, Daniel said, “Look–this doesn’t matter. I’m here because I overheard a weird conversation earlier and I wanted to try and figure out what happened.” Finally opening the door, he walked into the room where he’d overheard it all a few hours prior. “Were you here?” 

“Well, yes, I was definitely here,” the ghost said. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go. Do you know the first thing about ghosts?” 

“...not really,” Daniel admitted, giving the room a once over. It was mostly barren–a desk was pushed up against one wall, but the rest was given over to storage, dusty cardboard boxes stacked against each other. “Like, I’ve heard of ghosts, but…okay, to be honest, most ghosts I’ve read about were the ‘Late night TV Movie’ kind, not the real ones.” 

“Well, we can’t leave our haunts,” the ghost explained. “Some of us stick with our bodies, but I didn’t really get that option, so I’m stuck here, where I died. And, uh, you may have noticed it’s a featureless, boring storage area.”

“So you’re stuck here, and the only company you get is when the janitor comes through,” Daniel surmised. “That’s got to be lonely.” 

“Oh, no, I’ve got a friend. Do you know Jordan?” She asked. 

“I’m new here, it’s literally my first day,” Daniel said. “I don’t know her.”

“She comes around to spend time with me,” She explained. “Sometimes I’ll help her study, or we’ll just play games, or talk. She’s sweet. What were you asking about, though?” 

“Oh, well, this should be easy. Can you tell me what happened here a few hours ago?” Turning to face where he thought she was, Daniel asked, “There would have been two people talking–one of them was a middle aged woman, not a teacher though. 

“Eh…” Pausing, she admitted, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.” 

Daniel frowned. “If you were here–”

“I don’t remember,” the girl said. “I’m a ghost. Time doesn’t pass for me like it does for normal folks.” 

“You don’t remember things?” he asked. 

“I don’t remember when things happened. Once you walk out of here, I won’t know if this conversation happened yesterday or a year ago–though the boy in a diaper will probably be memorable enough to stick. There’s a reason we ghosts tend to live in the past–I remember stuff from my life the normal way, everything after that’s a jumble.” 

Daniel thought about that. “If I describe the situation, could you tell me if you’ve seen something like it before?” 

“I guess that’d work.” She sighed. “Sure, it’ll kill some time I guess.” 

Pausing, Daniel asked, “Wait, you mentioned your friend Jordan. How do you know if she still even goes here?” 

The girl didn’t respond for a long moment. “I…I don’t, admittedly, but I think she still does. She said she’d let me know when she graduated, and she’d still come back to visit when she could.” 

“When’s the last time–” Daniel started, before realizing the issue with his question. “You can’t remember the last time she visited, right.” 

“Not really,” the ghost confirmed. “But I can piece together the order, sort of, like–I know she broke up with her girlfriend at some point, so any time she comes here with Penny it has to be before that happened–and she started wearing her team scarf after she got into the Mothwicks, so those memories happened later, but…”

Daniel heard a sniffle. He rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. For all he knew, Jordan hadn’t been around here in years. “When did you die?” 

“It would have been…I don’t know how long,” She said. “But I was twenty two, the year was nineteen seventy one.” 

(It’s been almost thirty years,) Daniel thought. (Jeez. That has to be lonely.)

“So…”

“I know, this is boring to you,” she said. “Go ahead, tell me about the thing.”

“So there were two people, I think one of them might have been a coach named Catherine Glinse, but I didn’t get a look at her,” Daniel explained. “The other one didn’t have a teacher’s uniform on, just plain professional clothes. She’s faculty or something, but I don’t know what she does, though she did have blond hair. They were arguing, and one of them had a voice that sounded all warbly and demonic.” 

“I don’t…I’m not sure. That’s not ringing any bells, but teachers are in and out here a lot. Like, a lot a lot. The warbly demon voice should stand out, but, well, I’ve got a lot of memories.” 

Daniel rubbed at his chin, trying to think. “The one who was maybe a teacher was yelling about explanations. Does that help?”

“Not really…sorry. Let me think about it some, though, it might come to me,” she offered. 

Nodding, Daniel looked around and said, “That’s fine. Will you be able to remember it when it does come to you?” 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a repetition thing. Like, you’ve got old memories that are still pretty clear, because you think about them a lot, right? It’s like that. I can sort of…just keep it in mind, if that makes sense.” 

“Thanks,” Daniel said, walking back towards the door. “I shouldn’t stick around too much longer, I’m not supposed to even be in this hallway and if someone catches me, I’ll be in real trouble.” 

“Oh.” The ghost fell quiet for a moment, disappointment more clear from the silence than it would’ve been with words.

Quickly, Daniel promised, “I do, but I’ll be back, as soon as I can. Also…here, let’s see if this helps.” Clearing his throat, he spoke loudly and clearly. “This is my first time ever visiting you.”

“I know,” the ghost said. “I’d remember the diaper boy, I don’t forget that stuff happened, I just forget when.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Daniel confirmed, trying to clarify what he meant. “But you’re going to see me more than once. So let me clarify, and it’ll help you remember the order.”  

“Oh–oh! That’s… really thoughtful,” she said, hesitating for a moment as another thought struck her. “What’s your name, diaper boy?” 

“Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Aster.” 

“Nice to meet you, Danny,” the girl replied. “I’m Ismella.” 

 

...

Ugh, I love Ismella, and also hate that I wrote her into a corner - literally - where she can't move in and out of places, making it super hard to use her in any group scenes.

At least, I used to hate that, in the previous version. Now I've got plans to fix that.

Financial support is always appreciated to help keep me fed and diapered while I write, but if you can't do that for whatever reason (no judgement!), a comment is also lovely to receive!

-Penn

https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 10

After tossing and turning through his first night, trying to find a good way to lie down when there was unexpected and unwanted bulk rustling between his legs, Daniel had woken up crabby and late, with his bladder painfully full. With little time to get breakfast, he’d taken a shower–and peed in the shower, too, so he wouldn’t have to actually wet himself again–then changed into a fresh diaper as quick as he could and hurried to get to his first class. 

He wasn’t the last one in the room, but it was close. 

The Covenry Hall was one of the largest in the school, and with good reason. Covens required space to operate, necessitated large groups, and–of course–the class was fundamental to their education.

Or, well, it was fundamental to the witches’ educations. Daniel, a warlock, could have gone a couple years without ever needing to bother interacting with this field of magic. Still…it was on the syllabus of every student at Alphabeta, so he couldn’t exactly blow it off. 

Arranged in many tiered sections that arced up so that every coven would have a good view of the teacher at the front, dozens of ten foot sections were separated by curved walls, so that the huge lecture hall reminded Daniel of the interior of a seashell. Each bubble contained five or six girls, sitting on beanbags that were arranged in a semicircle so that they could face each other while still seeing the front of the room. 

Narrow staircases ran up the sides to reach each coven’s personal bubble. Looking around, Daniel tried to guess which one was his–he knew his covenmates’ names, but not their faces. 

“Daniel Aster,” a voice to his right said, and Daniel almost jumped–he hadn’t noticed Professor Blackburn. She stood off to the side like an assassin ready to pounce; her black robes and black hat helped her blend into the blackboard that dominated the wall behind her. 

He looked at her, trying to gauge if she was happy to see him. Surely she didn’t like him–the general vibe he’d gotten from faculty was vague disdain and outright hostility–but Blackburn’s expression seemed neutral and polite. 

“Hello, Professor,” Daniel said, testing the waters of diplomacy. “I’m looking forward to learning under you.” 

“A moment of your time,” she replied, cutting to the chase. “I know the comments some of my colleagues have made, but I want to be clear–once this conversation is over, I will expect you to behave just as any of my other students, and I will treat you no differently.” 

“Thanks,” Daniel said, hesitating for a moment. “I think.”

“This means I expect you to perform as well as any other student,” Blackburn continued. “You call yourself a warlock, but I’m not teaching warlocks.”

“Warlocks can be in covens,” Daniel pointed out. “Typically only Covens of Eight, but still–covens.”

“That’s true.” Professor Blackburn’s eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, flaring with amusement. “As the coven’s Focus, the fulcrum they pour their power into. A warlock leading a Coven of Eight can be a truly terrifying thing–one mage with that much power and the skill to use it is a rare thing. All the power of a coven, all the speed of an individual caster with scarcely seen mastery.”

“So,” Daniel said. “There shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Mmm. Daniel, don’t forget–there are five other witches in your coven, and you’ll be getting no special treatment,” Velma pointed out. 

“So?” Daniel asked.

“So, why do you assume you’ll be chosen as your coven’s Focus?” Velma asked. “Or, I should say–a coven of six has no explicit Focus, so why do you assume you’ll be given such control?”

Before the conversation could move further, a light french accent sounding off at waist level caught Daniel’s attention. “You’re Daniel, right? We’re in the same coven.” 

Daniel turned to look at the speaker–a girl with long, blonde hair sat in a subtly rune-marked wheelchair. He nodded. “I’m guessing you’re…I’m going to say Mathilde?” 

“That’s right,” she said. “How’d you know?” 

“Honestly, relying on stereotypes,” Daniel admitted. “You just sound like a Mathilde to me.”

“Well, I guessed on generalities too,” she conceded, smirking up at him. 

“Not many boys in class,” Daniel agreed. 

Glancing off away from him, Mathilde’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “That…wasn’t the first thing I noticed. Your skirt isn’t hiding much from my vantage.” 

Daniel’s own face turned fully red, and he glanced between her and Blackburn. “Thanks for the talk, Professor–I promise I won’t be a problem.” 

“I expect as much,” she replied. “Go join your coven, class will be beginning in a moment.” 

Daniel almost asked, ‘Where are we seated,’ but Mathilde waved a hand forward. “We’re over here.” 

Her chair moved on its own, wheels spinning with neither manual effort or an electric motor. Daniel watched the chair move for a moment, curious. 

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, as the two of them moved across the front of the lecture hall, passing covens in their own little scooped-out bubbles. 

She looked at him with uncertainty, and maybe a touch of suspicion. “That depends on the ‘something’.” 

“How are you controlling the chair?” he asked. “I mean, it seems like psychic control, but even with constructs designed for the purpose, that’s…well, either you can control a construct without focusing on it, which is a wild level of precision, or you’ve got a trick I haven’t thought of.” 

Her suspicion faded, replaced with a confident smirk. “How do you know I’m not focusing hard on it?”

“I mean…I guess I don’t, but it’d be pretty dumb on the part of the designers if it took your constant attention. At that point, you’d be better off with like…a remote control or a joystick or something.” Daniel shrugged. “So, I assumed there’s a trick I’m just not seeing to make it easier, since, well–it’s nice to be able to move and cast spells at the same time.”

“I’m controlling it directly, and there’s no trick to make it easier,” Mathilde explained, but she quickly added, “Though it’s not as impressive as you might think. You know how it takes babies months to go from ‘Awkwardly standing’ to ‘Walking without thinking about it’? This isn’t much different. And besides, can you?”

“Can I what?” Daniel frowned at her.

“Cast spells and walk at the same time,” Mathilde asked. “I mean…I wasn’t here for testing, but I heard you…struggled, a bit.” 

Daniel blushed. “I can, just–never mind. Your control is impressive, is all I’m saying.” 

Together, they made it to the bubble at the far end, where three girls waited. Mathilde nodded with a smile at the nearest girl, rolling her chair between a couple of the available beanbags. She exchanged a couple more greetings with the other two, pleasant and familiar; They all knew each other, Daniel was the only stranger.

So, taking off his pointy hat, he held it in front of himself for a moment and waved anxiously. “Hi. I’m Daniel.” 

The girls eyed him, and every one save for Mathilde wore an expression that was tempered with uncertainty.

The first, whose smile said, ‘I’m trying to be polite’ while her eyes said, ‘What did we do to get stuck with him?’, introduced herself. “Soga Asami. I’m a Second year, same as Mathilde.” Asami wore her uniform skirt long, cut so that it was almost a mirror opposite of Daniel’s immodest miniskirt, with an earthy complexion and a faint Japanese accent. “They try to put a couple of us in every group, so there’s some more experienced women–eh, experienced witches, at any rate.” 

“Historically, ‘Women’ and ‘Witches’ would be synonyms,” another girl added. She had red hair that curled up around her neck in a very particular, just-so sort of way, and wore a sneer that looked just as carefully cultivated as the hair. “I’m just going on the record here, I did not come to the most prestigious Witches school in the world to get stuck with…y’know. You. If you shit yourself, I don’t care what Blackburn said about ‘working with each other’, you’re either going to leave or I’ll make you leave.” 

“That’s Hazel, she’s always like that, it’s not you,” the third girl added. The only one so far to actually get up and offer a handshake, she wore her hair long, nearly down to the small of her back. “I’m Radha, and–I mean, if you do need to go, I’d appreciate giving the rest of us some space.” 

Daniel started to respond, shaking her hand. “Thanks, but–like, I don’t actually need–” 

“Take your seats,” Blackburn called from the front of the room. “Things are about to begin.” 

Glancing around, Daniel asked, “Where’s… Cassandra, right? Our sixth?” 

Radha shrugged. “Late.”

Daniel sat down on one of the two available beanbags, sinking slightly into it. He wanted the firm reassurance of a desk, but apparently this was how they did things–he’d have to put up with it for now. Turning his attention to their teacher, he waited. 

Walking to the center of the room, Velma Blackburn raised out both her hands in a dramatic flourish. “Magic–” 

“Sorry!” 

The voice cut in from across the classroom, and the entirety of the lecture hall turned to look at the last girl approaching–a couple books clutched to her chest and a piece of toast held in her mouth. She had dark skin and frizzy hair pulled into a pair of hastily-thrown-together messy buns. 

“Sorry!” she repeated, scrambling across the room and hopping into the last beanbag in Daniel’s coven, sliding over next to him. Loud enough that Blackburn could hear, she added, “I had to get some books for this, and then I missed breakfast, and–yeah. Um. Sorry.” 

Blackburn stared at her for a long moment. “Cassandra Clay,” she said. “Your tardiness is not our concern. Delaying class by explaining tardiness, however, is.” 

“Sorry,” Cassandra repeated, sinking into the bag a little deeper as though she might shrink from the professor’s gaze. 

“Now,” Blackburn repeated. “Magic…” 

She began a monologue about the importance of covens, the history of witchcraft, a whole spiel, but Daniel’s attention was focused on the latecomer. Leaning in, Cassandra whispered to Daniel, “I’m Cassie, I don’t think we’ve met.” 

“Daniel,” he replied. “Are you a second year?” 

She shook her head. “You?”

“First, and I hope only,” he explained. 

“Shut up,” Hazel snapped.

They shut up.

“The construction of the coven is one as old as magic,” Blackburn was explaining, turning, moving her wand through the air and twirling a piece of chalk on the huge blackboard behind her. A tiny motion of her wand made the chalk fly, inscribing a perfect circle. “It takes fundamental concepts, sharing the power that we all depend on. These are the fundamental forms of magic–the Wheel, or the Circle, being the most basic. The symbol that contains power so that it can be shaped and released into the world.” 

Moving her hand again, she marked a five pointed star, the kind kids learned to draw by marking five lines without picking up their crayons–though hers was, again, smooth and perfect, each angle exact, with the points of the star touching the inside rim of the circle.

“The pentagram,” Blackburn continued. “A channel, moving magic how you desire, and together these two form a pentacle–contained, controlled magic. Each point represents power–From the leftmost point, clockwise, Earth, Aether, and Aqueus, the physical elements, then the two legs, Spirit and Mind, for the mortal elements. But for all the power these carry, that alone is no coven, for that, you need a sixth.”

Finally, drawing back in preparation, she waited, letting the anticipation build. Once certain her audience was rapt, she flicked the wand forward, and the chalk broke into five pieces, marking five lines from the perfect center of the chalkboard out to each point of the pentagram. 

“The Familiar.” Blackburn’s voice was quiet for a moment. “Some of you may shy away from this role, because the Familiar wields none of her own power, but without her, you cannot cast a single spell. The Familiar carries magic she cannot wield. She is the wellspring that your might is drawn from, she is the conduit that your thoughts are carried through, she is the vessel in which you must place your confidence, because in you she will demand utter trust, because in you she will rely on your skill, because while she’s acting as your Familiar she will not be able to cast a spell. Never forget the burden placed upon your Coven’s Familiar, and never take her for granted.” 

She let that hang for a moment–apparently, that was the end of her speech, too. 

“Your first lesson will be simple,” she explained. “You will each take turns acting as each point of your pentagram, and as your Familiar. Form a circle, orient yourselves, and open your minds to share your power. By the end of our lesson, I will expect each of you to have experienced every place in your coven, from the raging Aether to the helpless Familiar.”

A moment of further silence passed, and she frowned as though surprised by their reactions. 

“Well?” Blackburn demanded. “What are you all waiting for? Begin.” 

...

And here we meet the coven - And, very much, *not* the 'study group'.

Of all the changes from V1 of the story, this group got the most work, going from basically just an idea I had one day to the crux of the plot. I hope you like them ^^

If you want to support me, a comment is always awesome to get!

You can also contribute a couple dollars to help keep the lights on over here, which is also awesome

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https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 11

All throughout the lecture hall, the girls were sitting in circles on the floor, one person in the middle, taking turns channeling power. It felt less like magic and more like a team building exercise–and, really, it felt even less like that and more like a game for toddlers. Duck Duck Goose, but someone sat in the middle. Guess the Leader without any guessing.

Daniel resisted the urge to make any sarcastic quips about kiddie games, but the jokes still came to mind. 

He kept his mouth shut, because if Daniel started making quips about how babyish the exercise felt, the retorts would be fast, obvious, and draw far more attention to the diaper he’d been required to wear. Better to keep silent and avoid reprisal.

And, besides, he had work to do. This was why he was here, after all, to learn magic. 

He began as the top left point on the pentacle–the point representing ‘Earth’. Mathilde sat to his left, Hazel to his right, and Asami sat right in the center of the circle, legs crossed on the ground. 

In practice, there was no need for them to literally sit in a pentacle formation to do their magic, but this helped everyone remember their roles and reinforced the positions they were attempting to fulfill. Daniel, as Earth, was the most tangible, physical point in their coven, the shaper of all things solid. 

“How do we start?” Cassie asked. 

Asami spoke up. “I’ve done this before, so you can just follow my instructions. Scoot closer, though.” They all did so, moving close enough in that they could reach out and touch one another. “Okay, put one hand on the shoulder of the wom–the person next to you, and one hand on me, then follow my lead.” 

She shut her eyes, as all the girls reached out their hands. Mathilde’s hand rested on Daniel’s shoulder, a gentle touch. 

Daniel didn’t know if he should take her instruction to ‘follow her lead’ literally, so he watched for a moment, waiting to see that the other girls had actually closed their eyes. Once they did, though, he still watched for a moment longer. Hazel’s face was tight with concentration, and Cassie’s looked uncertain, eyelids fluttering like she was tempted to look around and see if she was doing everything correctly. Radha, meanwhile, wore a smirk, like she’d thought of something funny she couldn’t wait to share.

Mathilde and Asami, though, looked relaxed. Since they were the most experienced amongst the group, Daniel tried to mimic them, clearing out his mind. Reaching out, he laid hands on Cassie, to his left, and on Asami. He shut his eyes, pushed aside worries, and allowed his magical sensitivity to extend to the space around him. 

Gently touching of hands, a close, cozy circle, the closed eyes and silent halls, it all facilitated their mental bonds. With practice, Daniel knew that covens could link minds with one another like second nature, but for now, they had to prime their brains and bodies to prepare. 

Though the goal was different, the intent had much in common with Rachel’s own mental manipulation the day before: Creating parity between headspace and arcane goals. 

He felt the pull a moment later–Asami’s mind touching his own. He didn’t allow her in, exactly, his thoughts were his own, but he met the connection and matched it. A mental handshake, rather than a mental hug; he was reticent to open himself too much to strangers. 

Through her, in a moment, he felt the others. Asami formed a mental basin, from which rivers flowed in and out, pooling their connections. They had no spells to cast, but they shared energy regardless.

Daniel struggled with the specifics of his own cornerstone. He was Earth, his role was to give their magic solid shape, an outline. However, though he tried, the rivers that flowed between them still spilled out, sloshing over their banks and beds. The connections were strong, but without an equally strong boundary to hem it all in, much of the finer details were lost. 

(It’s my first time doing this,) he reminded himself. (It’s fine if I make a few mistakes.)

He thought he could almost hear the thoughts of the other girls, but it was shrouded, too, muffled by the babbling power flowing between them. All he got was a vague impression–Cassie’s anxiety, Hazel’s tightly focused efforts. Enough that they could coordinate their efforts, not enough to invade privacy. 

After a few minutes of this, Asami let the connection fade, streams of power drying up, and Daniel opened his eyes. 

“So, that’s pretty much what it’s like,” she said. “Mathilde, do you want to be our next Familiar?” 

Mathilde smiled and nodded, and everyone shifted one seat to the left, while Mathilde rolled to the center of their circle, and once again they all shared their touch.

Taking the point of Aether, Daniel expected his role to be different, but the fundamental shape of their coven to be the same. However, as Mathilde made her mental connection, Daniel found himself not connected by a stream, but by a current of wind. 

There was no dribbling connection flowing directly. Instead, the power he shared was picked up like a paper airplane, carried on currents to a whirling centerpiece–not so violent as a tornado or a hurricane, more like a gentle updraft.

With Mathilde as their Familiar, he had no carte-blanche connection to the other girls’ thoughts or feelings. The power drifted away from him as needed, and came back as needed, little packets that were insulated from one another. The only thoughts he received were ones deliberately sent, asking for more power or less, focused requests to help shape their mental landscape more precisely. 

And his own job was to ensure that the packets were handled correctly–zipping to the right people, at the right times. It was now Asami’s job to keep the power from being lost, she’d taken the job of Earth, and she did so reliably. Daniel, however, struggled to keep things on course in his own way. Some magic went to the wrong people, or arrived at the wrong times–too much to one witch, too little to another. In his effort to keep the connections consistent, he caused the mental wind to billow and gust, only to lose it all. 

(Dammit,) he thought, annoyed with himself. (This shouldn’t be hard, we’re not even moving much power. What’s wrong with me?) 

Only a second later, the connection dropped, severed completely in an instant. 

Daniel blinked a couple times, surprised by the sudden absence of magic, and looked around. “What happened?” 

Mathilde looked away for a moment, then only said, “Some things were said a little too loudly, that I assume we’d rather keep private.” 

Everyone glanced around in confusion, except Daniel, who just widened his eyes. Mathilde must have heard his thought, his self depreciation, and rather than let that mote of personal criticism be announced to the group, she’d ended the exercise. And, because Daniel hadn’t thought to look around in mock confusion, he’d made it obvious who had led to the early completion. 

Since it was already obvious that Daniel was the one she’d done this for, he mumbled, “Thanks.” 

He assumed everyone else was wondering, ‘What did Daniel think about?’, but nobody asked, and Mathilde’s expression made him believe his secret was safe with her.

“Hazel, you’re next,” Mathilde said, as she moved to take her spot in the pentacle once more. 

And, once again, things were different. Hazel was no current, no gentle breeze.

Hazel’s mind called up the image of thick metallic cable, electricity coursing through it at blinding speeds. The power wasn’t necessarily greater than the previous two, but she threw it around with reckless abandon. 

It was Daniel’s job to be the Aqueus, the flow of the power, and in this role he failed utterly. He struggled to understand the distinction between this and his previous job, and within moments, surges of crackling power were coursing around, his inexperience and Hazel’s aggressive speed playing off each other in the worst way.

And then he heard a thought, more crystalline and exact than anything he’d heard up to that point.

(So what was Daniel thinking that was so embarrassing?) 

He could not identify the voice, the speaker, only the words, and it seemed to be a careless message. Hazel didn’t have Mathilde’s experience, and wasn’t holding anything back. Their thoughts were a PA system.

(Hazel, you need to control thought flow better. Our thoughts are spilling.)

(No I don’t, we’re a team, we’re supposed to know each other.)

(She’s got a point.) 

(Still, we’re just now learning–that’s unfair to put on him.) 

And, because trying not to think about something was impossible, Daniel’s mind slipped. (I can’t–fuck shit think about something else elephants elephants elephants–) 

Trying to shield his thoughts through a barrage of mindless noise, Daniel lost even the tiny bit of control he’d had over his role. Feedback began to build in their magic. 

(It’s got to be one of the diaper things.) 

(Probably true.)

(If I were him, I’d have quit the instant they made me wear that. Is he shameless or does he like it?)

(Maybe he just really wants to learn?)

(Yeah, no, he’s doing this for kicks.)

(Who would like this?)

Daniel tried to pull away, but an arc of electric shock struck his mind, and his hand felt almost magnetized to her arm. He winced. They’d built up power too fast, and to retreat was painful. Mind racing, he couldn’t do a thing to prevent the thoughts that flashed to the forefront of his mind. 

Rachel, leering over him, as she dealt out her humiliations. The sense of pathetic smallness he’d felt when she first put him in a diaper, and the deeper, greater shame when she’d forced him to use it. The window she’d put in his room, a constant display of his ineptitude, his incompetence, his–

(Enough.)

The mental connection broke. Daniel felt a tiny static burst, but the overwhelming power didn’t course through him. 

Eyes snapping open, he saw Mathilde wince a little, and could sense the burst of power seeping out into the ground around them. He heard footsteps behind their bubble and looked out to see Blackburn, a few steps away, pulling out her wand.

Before Blackburn could act, though, Mathilde smiled and shook her head. 

“Sorry, Professor,” she said. “We got a little out of hand there, but I brought it back into control.”

“Very well.” Blackburn looked at them for a cold, thoughtful moment, and Daniel was certain he felt her gaze land on him for longer than any of the others. “If you know what went wrong, remember that, and find new roles for those who couldn’t handle it.” 

Daniel was glad his next thoughts weren’t projected to the whole group. (So far we haven’t found anything I can handle.)

It was, to his surprise, Hazel that spoke up when the teacher had left. “So, your prefect is Rachel?” 

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “She’s…”

“She’s such an ass,” Hazel finished. “She’s mine, too. Pretty sure someone shoved coal up her ass and she’s trying to turn it into diamonds.” 

“I heard about her,” Radha added. “She got in a shouting match with a second year while I was getting settled in. I don’t know what about, but–I didn’t know faces could get that red just from yelling.” 

“You’re…not wrong,” Daniel said. “She hated me before she knew the first thing about me, and she literally said she wants to make my life hell. What’s her deal?” 

“She’s just mad because she knows she’s barely scraping by, and it makes her self conscious,” Asami explained, adding in a whisper. “She’s nearly flunked out of two classes. Had to take extra studies to stay enrolled.” 

Daniel frowned, confused. “What? I mean, I haven’t seen her test scores or anything, but she’s good. She’s got control like you wouldn’t believe, she’s fast–what’s her problem?”

“Oh, she’s a Nitch,” Mathilde said. 

“The right term is, ‘Bitch’,” Hazel supplied, producing a giggle from Radha. 

“No, but seriously,” Mathilde continued. “A Niche Witch. ‘Nitch’. She’s good enough at a few things that she can scrape by, but her coven is…a disaster. Rumor says, she’s the reason Blackburn won’t let people trade coven members, because people kept trying to get rid of her.” 

Asami shook her head. “That’s just a rumor, the rule’s always been around.”

“Still, if it’s a rumor, gotta be based in something,” Radha said. “Should we keep going?” 

“You’re on deck,” Hazel replied. 

Radha’s practice passed quickly–her mental landscape was rather like Asami’s, and yet rather different. Magic still flowed like water, but instead of streams and lakes, her passages and basins were colorful plastic slides and swimming pools, and the water poured rapidly around. Slower than Hazel, faster than Asami, it struck a balance between the two girls. 

What stood out to Daniel was not Radha at all, but his own performance. As the point of Spirit, he was meant to supply the concept of the magic. Since they weren’t casting spells, this part was easy–he could have given it any concept that he wanted, but that ended up being so broad that he couldn’t even imagine what to make it into. He didn’t fail, exactly, but nor did he really try.

That left only one other student to take the center before Daniel would be up. 

Cassie hadn’t said much so far, and Daniel had little idea what to expect when she walked to the center of the group, sat cross legged, and extended her own mind to the rest of them. 

Daniel expected some new metaphor for the exchange of power, but instead, he found that the first thing he saw in the space was…Cassie. 

She didn’t represent herself as a metaphor at all. Instead, Cassie stood in front of him, though her uniform had been replaced with a flowing blue dress, and she stood in a garden, surrounded by warmth, life, and growing things. 

Daniel saw no direct transfer of power, but then he saw that it wasn’t just Cassie in the mental landscape–the other girls were there too. Not as the people he recognized, though. Radha was a squirrel, darting across the garden, carrying acorns which she deposited in a pile at Cassie’s feet. Asami had the form of a fox, prowling around, keeping everything in line, while Mathilde looked like a robin out of a Disney movie. Hazel was, perhaps inevitably, a prickly hedgehog. 

The whole group, all the woodland creatures, were rushing to her and from her, bringing little things from the garden, or taking them away, while she hummed a little tune.

Daniel’s nose twitched, and he reached up, pawing at his face for a moment, pulling a floppy ear over his eyes. It took him a moment to realize what he’d appeared as, glancing back to eye his cotton ball tail. 

(I’m a bunny rabbit?) he groaned to himself. (Ugh–I guess that’s better than a skunk.) 

He’d taken the role of Mind, and here, he felt most confident. The practical part of spellcasting, not working with concepts, but with form. He scurried up to Cassie, and she knelt, brushing a hand between his ears and petting back his fur before handing him a handful of seeds that’d been brought in by Mathilde. 

Daniel understood immediately what Mathilde was conceptualizing–the loose idea of a light spell. Not something difficult, not something they’d actually cast, but it was a spell he knew and could work with. Hopping away, he pictured what he wanted in his mind, bringing forth a concept conceptualized–of course–as a long, pointy carrot. 

For all the cartoon juvenility of the mindscape, here, Daniel the Fluffy Bunny Rabbit felt most confident, most at ease. He might not be good at the other points, but when it came to the Mind, the knowledge of how spellcasting worked, he felt he had a handle on things. 

His job didn’t require working with gut feeling or judgment, and it didn’t ask him to control power in precise ways–it was, almost completely, a mental game of taking memorized information from his head and using that information to give the ideas form and shape.

This was where he belonged, and he knew it. Above and beyond the here and now, more than just in their training, this is the role that warlocks belonged in. There was power here, and this was the place he could use it. 

A warlock, with all the speed and power that implied, could take this power and do incredible things with it.

His early assumptions had been wrong–the witches in a coven weren’t simply batteries that charged up their spells. They did far more, providing structure, relieving the mental load of spellcasting and allowing magic to have greater precision. 

The warlock leading a coven wouldn’t have to worry about using too much or too little power, the Aether point handled that. Nor did he have to worry about losing energy, that was controlled by Earth. Spirit and Mind reinforced the mental and literal structure of the magic, and Aqueus kept it all moving, flowing, so that the warlock would have all this ready at his fingertips. 

Maybe this would be a different course to the top. Maybe he didn’t even need to go to a warlock school. Daniel didn’t need to perfect everything after all–as a warlock leading a coven, he would have the girls to compensate for his weaknesses. They would give him everything he needed to achieve mastery, to let him demonstrate the power he had within him. 

Plus, occasionally, Cassie would scratch him between the ears. 

The mental connection finally faded, and Cassie sighed happily. Of all the groupings so far, this one had worked the best, and there were smiles all around when it ended. 

“You’re up, Daniel,” Asami said. 

Daniel felt it a bit unnecessary, but he wanted to do it regardless, just to see what the role felt like. A mental understanding was good, even if it wasn’t where he belonged. 

So, moving to the center of the group, Daniel sat down, letting all the girls reach out and rest their hands on him. It was more physical contact than he could remember having since…he wasn’t sure, but he tried not to let that bother him, donning the mental role of the coven’s familiar. 

Daniel extended his mind. To make the proper mental connections he had to go one at a time, slowly unfolding the arms of their pentacle, and it wasn’t until he’d touched every girl that he realized the form his own mental landscape had taken. 

He was neither a pool, nor a garden, nor even a gardener. 

He was not the only human, surrounded by a group of abstract representations of his peers. Daniel had projected himself as some kind of machine, not a computer even, but a modular, five-way arcade cabinet. 

Every other member of the coven stood around him, human, fully formed, speaking plainly, talking to each other about what they wanted to do, and Daniel was the only one without a voice. 

He immediately felt the claustrophobia–in his mind, he was unable to move, except for how the girls moved him. They had all the controls, after all, the buttons to push and the joysticks to move to get the results they wanted. He was a game for them, or a toy. 

And, as Blackburn had made clear, he was helpless. He hadn’t realized how helpless, either, until he was here, projecting the mental image into the world, with zero control over the magic. The only choice he had was to keep the coven’s connection alive, or to end it. 

But, a moment later, he realized something else. 

His goal as the coven’s Familiar was to carry magic between them–thoughts, energy, willpower. In his first moments, he’d been waiting for that to begin. As with his other roles, the work would show up, and he’d start handling it as best he could. 

Ten seconds passed in the mental space, where the girls played his mental arcade and input elaborate button combinations. Only then did he realize it’d already begun, and he hadn’t even noticed.  

He’d been succeeding, and he hadn’t even noticed. Sure, the mental construct was uncomfortable, even claustrophobic, but above all else it was effortless. Even trying to take notice, Daniel barely registered the effort it took to move it, and the thought process was reflexive, second nature. 

Even being the Mind had been work, but this? 

This was child’s play. 

...

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter 12

Daniel could distantly feel himself taking deep, steady breaths, but his mind was lost in the arcane arcade space his coven had built.

The girls of his coven loomed around him, working together like a team–and, of course, they were a team. Daniel was in theory also a part of that team, but he didn’t feel like he belonged with them; he belonged below them. 

Hazel leaned in over the console with an intense expression, almost a glare, tapping away at a few buttons so quickly that the clicks ran together into white noise. Asami, whose controls were lowered so she could reach them while sitting, was in an almost zen-like state, moving joystick and buttons together in a fluid motion. 

Mathilde, though, sat at a lower set of controls that she could reach comfortably from her chair, watching the screens, only occasionally pushing a button. At first, Daniel thought she might be uncertain, even hesitant, but after more thought, he understood–she wasn’t uncertain, she was patient. She waited, watched, only doing what was needed in the moment it had to be done. 

All the magic happened around him, and Daniel could control none of it. He was surrounded by power–his power, mostly–but the flow went past him. He’d imagined himself as a console, and that was reinforced by how he felt.

Though he couldn’t see the ‘game’ displayed on the screens, he understood the flow by the inputs passing through him. It didn’t resemble anything he’d ever played at the arcade–if anything, it was more based on Daniel’s childhood imagination of what arcade games could be if they’d been built for whole friend groups…and if Daniel had ever managed to bring along four whole friends. 

After a moment longer, hearing a few choice sound cues, Daniel realized it didn’t just resemble his imagined game, it was his imagined game–a clean ripoff of Star Trek, though rebranded because he’d never understood how licensing worked, with each girl playing a different role amongst the officers. It didn’t even take long to figure out who was who:

Asami, the ‘Mind’, was obviously the captain, delivering orders through rapid button inputs to the rest of the ship as it battled an armada of Hangons. Mathilde, Spirit, was the first officer, the Spock–or, based on Daniel’s preferences, the Riker. Hazel, Aqueus, would be the communications officer, with an earpiece the size of a chicken egg, Radha would be the Aether and the Chief Medical Officer, and that left Cassie as the Earth Engineer, dealing with exploding crystals and all manner of mayhem as they tried to go past warp eleven. 

Daniel was the Computer–not just in the literal sense, but the show character, too. When Asami barked orders through button combos, he relayed those orders as text displays and icons on the other players’ screens. Cassie could fuel up the engines and push them to faster speeds, but Daniel was the one who had to display the ship’s status for the rest of the crew to understand.

Daniel felt a pang of jealousy–he wanted to play the game he’d imagined, to take a role amongst the team. Instead, as they issued orders and handled their respective places amongst the ship, he could only pass the electrical signals between their displays and facilitate their fun. 

He was an object for them to use, a tool to get what they wanted, but the magic in his very soul was no longer his to control. 

Daniel shuddered. 

Magic had been a part of him for so long that he couldn’t imagine its absence. It was a sixth sense, a part of his soul, the music in his thoughts–and though it hadn’t exactly left him, he had no control. 

Though his body sat in the center of the circle, free save for a few hands resting gently on him, his mind felt trapped. The urge to sit up, to run, to wave his arms around just to express his freedom weighed on him, but if he did that, he’d draw the scorn of his classmates and the ire of his teacher, so he waited a little longer. 

“Did you see that?” Cassie asked, reaching forward to tap the side of the monitor in front of her. 

“See what?” Asami asked. 

“He’s fast,” Radha interjected, looking between the display and the buttons to remember where her controls were. “I’m having trouble keeping up.” 

“It looked like a glitch,” Cassie explained, pointing at the display. “I don’t know. I just don’t want another feedback situation.”

Mathilde nodded. “I saw it too. Daniel, are you okay?” 

Daniel had no words to respond. He’d conceptualized himself in such a way that he had no voice, but he thought about how he felt, willing the girls to hear. (I can’t move. There’s all this power, and I can’t even touch it. I can’t breathe.) 

“Stress response,” Mathilde declared a moment later, pulling her hands back from the controls. “Everyone stop.” 

The mental image broke, and Daniel’s senses fully came into his body once again, giving a brief flash of a ‘Game Over’ screen that lingered in his vision for several seconds. Taking a deep breath, he felt the control of his magic–his power–return to him, and just to reassure himself, he snapped a spark between his fingers. 

“Take a few deep breaths,” Mathilde instructed. “Don’t worry. You’re fine–I had a panic attack my first time, too.” 

The other girls withdrew their hands one by one, though Cassie’s fingers rested on his shoulder a moment longer than the others, and she asked, “Are you okay?” 

“It was like…” Daniel started, trying to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t know. Bad. Like if you strung up my arms and legs with puppet strings, and each of you had the handle for a different limb. I wasn’t just unable to act, I was acting without any control over it.” 

“That’s what the Familiar does,” Radha pointed out. “You kinda just get used to it.” 

“If it’s scary, you don’t have to be our Familiar,” Cassie added, looking around. Her hand was still on his back. “Right?” 

Hazel’s gaze was centered on Daniel, hard and focused, though she didn’t say a word. He avoided her glare, 

“We can’t force anyone to take a particular role,” Asami said. “If nobody wants to be the Familiar, we just take turns. That’s pretty common, actually, it’s…not the most popular position.” 

“Well if we take turns, he’d still have to do it sometimes,” Radha added. 

“But that’s cruel,” Cassie objected. “I don’t want to make anyone do something that scares them like that.” 

“He’ll get used to it.” Radha shook her head. “Everyone does.”

Cassie shook her head in return. “And if he doesn’t?” 

“Unless we’re giving special treatment to him because he’s not even a witch, he should do it,” Radha declared, scooting back a little, breaking the circle and all it symbolized. “And if we are giving him special treatment–” 

“Everyone, shut up,” Hazel snapped, finally. Not loud, not sharp, but exasperated and firm. The coven shut up, though less out of obedience than surprise, and she continued. “Daniel, were you actually panicking?” 

He wasn’t sure he understood the question, but Mathilde cut in and answered for him. “I know what it looks like when a Familiar is feeling stressed. That was stress.” 

“But was he just running his brain too hard, overloading himself?” Hazel asked. “Exhausting his brain, stress from a mental load? Because, I’m not super experienced in this, but I sat in a coven with my mom a couple times. Correct me if I’m wrong here–was Daniel not fast?” 

“Hazel, you were ‘Fast’. Daniel wasn’t fast, he was more like…you know that saying, right? About the difference between being fast and being fast?” That got her five blank stares, so she clarified as best she could. “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”

“So Daniel was slow,” Radha said. “But skilled.”

“But, if he gets scared and panics when he’s the Familiar, we still shouldn’t make him do it,” Cassie pointed out. “Okay, he’s good, but that shouldn’t matter.” 

“He’s not good,” Mathilde corrected. “When we work with Blackburn, she’s better, but…not that much better. And she’s the teacher. Daniel is great.”

“She says she’s better as the Mind than the Familiar,” Asami pointed out. “So she’s not like, the best Familiar in the world.”

“Still. He’s never even sat in a coven before today, let alone as a Familiar.” 

“And he shouldn’t have to, if it’s scary–”

“We’ll take turns, but he’s not skipping his turn.”

Daniel twitched his shoulder, but it was Hazel that spoke up before he could snap. “Shut up,” she said again. “Seriously–what is wrong with all of you?” 

Again, she got their attention, though this time there was a retort as well. Asami said, “Hazel, just because you’re crabby–”

“Stop talking about Daniel like he’s not here,” Hazel snapped. “He was our Familiar for a minute, but he’s not actually a silent box that we need to control. You know he’s got a mouth, right? And, if memory serves, he knows how to use it, too, right, Daniel?” 

Daniel was speechless for a moment longer, but Hazel’s speech had its intended function. She bought him a moment of space, and the attention of the coven, where he could figure out how he actually felt. 

He took a breath and said, “Look, I just need to say one thing.” 

“Whatever you want to tell us,” Cassie promised him, patting his shoulder in an attempt at reassurance. All it accomplished was to remind him that he was still the center of their attention, all five girls studying him, still undecided on how he should be treated. He had to break that barrier between them, to join the circle instead of being surrounded by it. 

“I don’t want to fulfill any stereotypes about my gender, or just be a pig in general,” Daniel declared, pulling away from Cassie’s touch. “But, come on, Hazel, if that wasn’t a setup for a dirty joke, I don’t know what is. Like–seriously. ‘I have a mouth and I know how to use it?’ Is that bait or what?”

Five girls laughed, and Daniel breathed a bit easier. They weren’t looking at him like a thing to be protected anymore, and for once, his peers were laughing at something he’d said, rather than the underwear he’d been forced to wear. 

Daniel continued. “And, okay, on the Familiar thing: It was stressful. I don’t like how it felt, I kinda wanted to scream, I very much wanted to run around and flail my arms like a maniac. But–” he spoke quickly, interrupting before anyone could interject. “But, like…you said I’m good. So I’ll do it.” 

He didn’t totally like what he was saying, but he loathed their pity. He would rather agree to be their Familiar for the whole year than to be told he was too soft, too weak, too frightened for the role. Besides, Blackburn had made it clear–he would be expected to hack it, to be as good as anyone else, he couldn’t demand special treatment. 

“Okay,” Asami said. “Are you sure?” 

“Taking turns,” Daniel continued. “Like Radha said. Not because I don’t want to Familiar, but because I think I’m better at being the Mind, and besides–I want to practice the other parts. I’m not going to be a Familiar when I graduate, anyways.” 

That settled the matter. Nobody could object or tell him he was being unreasonable to ask that they share the load.

“Okay, Hazel, you were right,” Manju said, giggling before she could finish her joke. “He does know how to use his mouth.”

Daniel threw up his hands, but he was grinning. “Oh, for–‘Insert cunnilingus joke here’, are you happy?” 

More laughter, and they all sat back, a little more relaxed than they had been before. Noting a gap between Cassie and Hazel, Daniel scooched to the side, so that he wasn’t surrounded anymore, becoming just a part of the circle once again. A member of the team.

“We all did all the parts,” Asami added. “I think, do we want to talk about how we felt about each of them, until the group exercise is done?” 

Grinning, Radha put on a truly atrocious southern accent. “Dammit, Hazel, I’m a doctor, not a backup Aether point! But seriously, you leaned on me a bit hard in that last one–I know our roles are similar, but that’s something to work on.” 

They laughed, and the conversation moved on to group discussion, jumping right in without further preamble. What they were weak on, what were their strengths, where everyone felt the most comfortable and what they felt they could improve on. It wasn’t a lesson, exactly, none of them were teachers or experts. 

Instead, it was peer review–six people, all sharing what they’d felt and observed. Technical acumen could come later, and a professional, experienced hand, could teach them specifics, but that didn’t matter yet, because this wasn’t about the mechanical parts of spellcasting. 

This was teambuilding, and Daniel knew, sitting amongst them, that he was included in the team. 

 

...

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[PeculiarChangeling]

Chapter Thirteen

“How’d it go for you?” Jen asked, leaning against the hallway wall. 

Daniel jumped–he hadn’t expected anyone to be waiting for him, and her sudden hello shocked him. “Gah! Eh–sorry, you surprised me.”

“Oh, sorry! I–sorry, didn’t mean to startle,” she spluttered, shaking her head a couple times. 

She’d broken her glasses at some point since Daniel had last seen her, and a little strip of tape wrapped around the center. Daniel squinted, making out a slight bit of movement beneath the semi-transparent adhesive strip. “Enchanted tape?” 

“Spell-o-fix,” she nodded. “I’m not great with fixing spells, so I just keep a roll with me whenever. Great for tears in clothes, too!” 

“Smart.” Daniel glanced over his shoulder. His coven all had different classes to get to and had broken up when the class had ended, but he’d been tempted to walk with one of them until their paths were forced to split by class schedules. Remembering finally that Jen had asked a question, he added, “I…I actually kind of like my group.” 

“And that’s a surprise?” Jen asked. They began walking down the hall together, continuing to chat. “Mine were super nice–Candice brought cookies!” 

“Well–statistically speaking, most of the girls at this school don’t like me, and of the two I was on speaking terms with, one hated me,” Daniel pointed out. “I was worried I’d end up with five Rachels, and that would’ve been a–” 

“Daniel,” Jen blurted, cutting him off. “Um. You were saying about–uh…crap. Sorry.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow at her, noticing too late the discomfort on her face. “Oh.”

“You were saying?” Rachel asked, looming over Daniel’s other shoulder. 

Daniel’s eyes widened as he turned and saw his prefect. He stopped in the hall, shrinking away from her looming presence. “Eh…” 

“Go on, Danny,” Rachel prompted. “Finish the sentence. ‘Ending up with five Rachels would have been a…’, what?” 

He cringed away, and Rachel’s smile seemed to spread in direct correlation with his awkwardness and fear. “It would’ve been a…learning experience?” he suggested.

Her smile fell, brow furrowing. “Really, you think I’m that dumb?” Raising her voice, Rachel added, “Come on, diaper boy, use your words.” 

“I…” he started, before steeling himself and standing up a little straighter. He was armed with information he hadn’t known before, and he refused to be bullied. “You’re a bitch, and a nitch, and you’re obviously just mad that a warlock can waltz in here and get twice your score on every test you’ve taken. Seriously–you think I got in here on a fluke? Even if I did, at least my coven hasn’t started looking for loopholes to transfer me out.” 

Daniel felt pretty good about the monologue. It was all true, which meant it would sink in with far more weight than any snide comments he could’ve made the day before. 

Rachel reacted as though she’d been slapped. Which is to say, she showed a flash of pain, followed by fury and a desire for vengeance. 

Daniel no longer felt pretty good about the monologue. 

“Oh yeah? You want to talk about rejection?” Rachel asked, raising her voice. “I’m not the one who volunteered to shit his diapers just so he’d get to learn his ABCs and fundamental forces!”

A crowd had begun to form–girls who heard the shouting and stopped to watch. Daniel swallowed. “Yeah, you’ve got petty authority,” he snapped. “Why don’t you just wave it around so everyone can see? That’ll definitely make up for the fact that your career’s dead in the water as soon as there’s no school forcing girls to be in a coven with you.” 

Her anger flashed hotter, and Daniel realized with concern that she had at some point taken out her wand, long red ribbon trailing to the floor. “Do I need to remind you about the chat we had before orientation?” she asked. “Hmm? Do you need my help, diaper boy?”

Daniel knew she’d do it–she’d make him use his diaper again, for the crowd of watching girls. Still, he couldn’t just back down and submit either, not here, in front of everyone. Another quip rose up to his tongue, an attempt to win the argument with words.

“Danny,” Jen interrupted, stepping forward and touching his arm, “we’re going to be late for class, and I’m not showing up to Potions without my lab partner.” 

She didn’t look at Rachel, but her words were loud enough for the amassed crowd to hear and carried a clear message: She was offering an out, a way to de-escalate. 

Daniel still wanted to pick a fight, but Jen had offered him a lifeline. A way to not lose, and all he’d have to do was accept not winning. 

“Get going, spark,” Rachel growled. “Have fun with your babysitter.” 

(Screw this.) Daniel turned, walking away with fists balled in anger. “Come on,” he said to Jen. A few paces later, under his breath, he added, “We aren’t lab partners, you know.”

Jen hissed her response so that only he could hear. “Uh, well, we will be–unless you want to go explain that to Rachel.” 

“Oh.” Daniel nodded, following along. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome, now don’t prod the bear,” Jen shot. “It’s like you wanted her to get mad.” 

Daniel checked over his shoulder, feeling a touch paranoid, but Rachel was far behind them, storming the other way. “I don’t want her mad, I just…I can’t just sit there and take it when she decides to make me her whipping boy, you know?”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jen said, “But…aren’t you worried about what she’ll do?” 

Drawing his lips into a line, Daniel nodded. “I mean…yes, obviously. She’s the one who thought of…” 

He stopped in the hallway, a light popping above his head as an idea came to him. Jen winced away, shielding her eyes. 

“Er–sorry,” a student off to the side of the hall flicked her wand, and the light vanished. 

Daniel blinked, shook his head, and kept walking. “I mean…” he began. “She’s a petty bully. She’s only picking on me because I’m the person she has permission to pick on. If I don’t argue, she’d still come up with excuses to get mad.” 

Jen snorted. “I can’t imagine trying to work under her. Can you? ‘You turned in your TPS report five minutes late, I’m revoking company bathroom privileges!’” 

(Perfect setup,) Daniel thought, wondering if Jen had the same idea as him. Raising his voice a little more, so that his voice would carry without it sounding like shouting, he said, “You know–it seems like Rachel’s a bit too fascinated with all this baby diaper crap. If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was some projection going on there, too.”

Covering her mouth, Jen turned bright pink. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Daniel said, acutely aware that they weren’t the only students walking down the hall, and that their conversation would be carried to quite a few eavesdropping witches. He knew the power of a good rumor. “Honestly–if it were just diapers, that’s a random prank, but she keeps bringing it up. You don’t just randomly decide to keep playing the ‘Diaper’ note for no reason–unless it’s because you secretly want someone else to do it back to you. I’d bet you your wand that Rachel wants to sniff dirty diaper butts and is just using me to project her gross fantasy.” 

He didn’t turn to look at the other students, but he heard more ‘snirk’s and short chuckles behind him. Jen giggled, looking like steam might come out her ears if she had to listen to any more of his theorizing. “That’s–do you really think so?”

“She made a special window scene in the prefect dorms that permanently displays…erm…” he blushed. His rumor-mongering involved sharing a few humiliations that had otherwise remained private, but he was already in too deep to back out. So, continuing in a stage whisper, he leaned in. “She made an image to look at my butt in a diaper all the time.”

Technically, she’d made the window display that image in his room, but he didn’t have to admit that part. Anyone who overheard the comment would assume Rachel had put the window in her own room, if they believed him at all.

They both burst into giggles, and Daniel decided to stop there. He didn’t want to over-egg the pudding and make it obvious what he was doing–he just needed to spread a few nasty rumors about Rachel’s private interests. 

It might not help his reputation–his popularity would have been in the toilet, except that Rachel didn’t allow him anywhere near a toilet–but he could drag Rachel down to his level. They wouldn’t forget he was the school’s diaper boy, but with a little selective pressure here and there, they might begin to think of Rachel as the school’s diaper girl as well.

“By the way,” Jen said, as they turned into the potion lab, “I tried to look up a little bit about…erm…the stuff from the other day. With the person. In the room. You know?” 

“You could be a little less precise, I don’t know if that covers every encounter we’ve had since we’ve met.” Despite his snark, Daniel nodded. “But yes, I know.”

“There’s a few history books about the school,” Jen continued. “But–”

“Take your seats,” Professor Saito called from the front of the room. The potions lab looked like many a chemistry class from any number of Mundane schools, though instead of glass flasks, six-inch cast iron cauldrons sat on stands over bunsen burners, and instead of neatly labeled chemicals, they had out plastic baggies full of feathers, glittering dust, and strangely shimmering essences. 

“Oh, right, we should do this,” Jen began, straightening and adopting a smile. Rather than explain, she turned and walked towards the front of the classroom. Daniel didn’t immediately follow, but she turned back and grabbed his wrist, towing him with her. He stumbled and caught up, going with Jen right up to their teacher. “Professor Saito?” 

The professor, with the silver patchwork of marks along her face, looked none too pleased, though Daniel couldn’t identify what had upset her. Maybe she just didn’t like being asked questions. “Yes, Jennifer?” 

“Can Danny be my lab partner? He’s…”

The professor inhaled sharply, glaring down at the two of them, and Jen trailed to a stop under her withering gaze. “Answer me this question,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

When she didn’t ask a question, Daniel nodded. “Go on?” 

“What,” Professor Saito snapped, her voice strict and harsh, “is the most important rule of brewing?” 

“Erm…” Jen said, confused. “I…keep a clean work station?”

Their teacher began to shake her head, but Daniel jumped in before she could split them apart. “Don’t free brew!” he interjected. “Never free brew, or we’ll get hurt.” 

The faintest silver line curled up at the edge of the potion master’s lips, and she nodded. “That’s correct. I suppose you can be a good influence on her, Mister Aster. Now, go take your seats.”

“Awesome!” Clasping her hands together in a gesture almost like a clap, Jen grinned and nodded, scurrying to find an open work station. “Okay, so it’s–”

“Jen?” Daniel interrupted, shaking his head and touching her arm to stop her. “Can you not call me ‘Danny’?” 

“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Why?” 

“Well…my mom calls me Danny,” Daniel admitted, blushing. “It feels…I don’t know. I don’t like it.” 

“Sure, Daniel. Or ‘Dan’? I could call you Dan, I guess…” She raised her eyebrows and blurted out, “Ooh, Niel! Niel is a cool name!”

“Just ‘Daniel’ is fine,” Daniel chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Okay then, Just Daniel,” Jen snickered. 

Next to them, Professor Saito cleared her throat. “This is all very touching, but can you please go sit down?” 

“Right, sorry,” Daniel and Jen both said in near unison, turning.

“What were you saying before?” Daniel asked, as they started to walk. “When I interrupted you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jen said, picking up her pace. “It’s just hard to find anything that deep, you know?”

“Uh…what?” Daniel tilted his head, confused, struggling to keep up both literally and verbally with his new lab partner. Jogging after her, he asked, “Deep?” 

“About the school. Because, you know, ‘These kids don’t know what power, blah blah, this place is built on something,’” Jen explained. “But as far as I can find, we’re just built in a big block of ice. That’s it. No ley lines, no fancy magical wellsprings, just frozen water.” 

Daniel shrugged. “Technically, I think she said, ‘These fools have no idea what they’ve built, if they knew they wouldn’t have let these children toy around with such power.’”

Jen gave him a funny look. “You remember it that well?” 

“I mean…yeah, it was pretty important.” Looking out at the ingredients and tools set on the potion bench, he began to mentally categorize them. “So…reading was a dead end, then?”

“Only in the main library,” Jen clarified. “But it’s not the only place with books–it seemed like there was more to the school’s history, it’s just not publicly available. Plans, blueprints, all that kind of stuff.”

Daniel nodded, half paying attention, putting together the puzzle as he replied. “And where can we find that stuff?” 

“We’ll need a teacher’s pass,” Jen explained. 

“Uh-huh…” (It’s… We’re brewing a deadspell tonic.) He smiled, picking up one of the shimmering packets, identifying the contents as merflakes–a prime ingredient in potions that would deaden magic and make untamed spells safe. 

“Daniel,” Jen interrupted. “Are you listening?” 

He looked at her, nodding. “Yes, I just…sorry. Got sidetracked, I wanted to know what our class would be about.”

“Distracted by classwork.” Jen stared, her eyes large and pretty behind her glasses, which had almost completely repaired themselves in the ten minutes since they’d bumped into each other. “You know you’re a bit weird, Just Daniel Aster?” 

“I won’t contest that,” he replied. “So–why do we need a teacher’s pass?”

“To get more books,” Jen explained, leaning in conspiratorially. “We need to get into the restricted section of the library.” 

...

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