Wet Witch-Boy

Summary: Magic, Humiliation And Revenge

This is the story of how the most fantastic year of my life turned into 
the worst. My life has changed so much now, I feel like I live in a 
different world altogether. And it's a nightmare.

Let me start from the beginning. My name is Mike and I'm fifteen years 
old. There's always been something strange about me and my family, 
although I was never aware of that until someone else told me. For 
starters there's our house: we live in England in a very old town and 
our house may be the very oldest one in it.

Tuesday, 10 November

When I was in primary school, I sometimes heard the other kids whisper 
and look in my direction. When I asked my friend James one time what 
they were whispering about, he told me that they said I was a witch-
Boy. Apparently, some witch was rumoured to have lived in our house 
ages ago and some of the kids thought I was one too. A strange thought, 
because I would never have pictured a witch as a slender, blue eyed 
blond boy. But as there's no reasoning with fools, I just went along 
with it, sometimes threatening to turn them into frogs or something if 
they offended me. Somehow that never helped though, and I was more 
often the object of their teasings than of their fear. The fact that I 
had a weak bladder, of course didn't help me. It often occurred that I 
would suddenly stand up in class and make a run for the bathroom, which 
I always barely made.

Just one time at age seven, when I had to go during lunch break and the 
bathrooms were all occupied, had I not made it. It was only one time 
and I was young, but the incident had already earned me a nickname for 
life: The Wet Witch-Boy.

It's always been very frustrating for me that this nickname was never 
forgotten. Because I'd had one accident when I was seven, people were 
still making jokes about it even when I had reached the age of fifteen.

Unfortunately, last year, a new guy joined our group at school and he 
wasn't nice. Kind of a bully, but not in a violent way. More vicious. 
He was always looking to humiliate other kids, and as soon as he saw me 
suddenly get up from class and going to the bathroom a few times (now 
walking calmly though, I had learned that at least) and found out about 
my nick name, I was the obvious target for his cruelties.

And so it happened that one time, when I was on my way to the bathroom, 
this guy, Jack, stopped me in the hallway and started talking to me. He 
knew of course that I had to go, but he didn't let that on and started 
asking me all sorts of difficult questions while a few of his friends 
were standing around him, grinning. When I finally started to panic and 
tried to run past him to the bathroom door he grabbed my arm and asked 
me, in the friendliest of tones why I was in such a hurry. Was there 
something wrong, he asked. There was of course, because at that moment 
my bladder exploded and I felt myself wetting my pants there and then, 
in the crowded hallway, unable to hold it any longer. I'll never forget 
how all my classmates saw me running away, my jeans soaking wet, while 
they were all laughing and pointing and calling my nick name: look! The 
Wet Witch-Boy has done it again! I ran all the way home through town, 
not taking the bus. A fifteen year old boy, running through town with a 
big shameful wet spot on his jeans for the world to see.

Back home I was almost crying of humiliation, but I held back, afraid 
to seem even more like a baby than I already did.

I ran downstairs to the basement, where my room was and in a hurry as I 
was, hit my head on one of the low hanging wooden beams which supported 
the ceiling. I was then that I discovered by accident the small hatch, 
cleverly hidden in the structure of the wood. Because I'd hit it with 
some force it had sprung open to reveal a narrow cache. In it was a 
small chest with a strange symbol engraved in the lid. I immediately 
forgot about what had happened at school and sat down on the stairway 
steps to look inside the chest. A squishing sound reminded me of the 
condition of my jeans and I felt a sting of humiliation again. If only 
there was something I could do to take revenge on that guy..

I should have known when I opened the chest and found the amulet that 
it was too easy. No good could come of such a great power gained so 
easily.

But I didn't know that then, and when I read the note that was written 
beside it my heart skipped a beat with excitement. It was the amulet of 
the witch Malversia, apparently one of my ancestors. It contained her 
power. One had only to wear the amulet around ones neck and say a spell 
and it would instantly happen. I never read the lines below that 
message, excited as I was about this discovery. I was nick-named the 
Wet Witch-Boy. Since one part of that name had already proven to be 
true, as evident by the current state of my jeans, the other part might 
as well be.

At first I wasn't sure the amulet would work. I tried using it to clean 
up my room and at first nothing happened. But thirteen seconds later (a 
meaningful amount of time for a witch of course) The rubbish suddenly 
began to lift itself off the flour and floating through the air to 
where it belonged. The amulet worked like a charm.

You are probably able to guess what I did when I took the amulet to 
school the next day, hidden under my clothes...

Wednesday, 11th November

I heard the muffled giggling of my classmates as I entered the room and 
felt the looks aimed towards me. I was certainly never going to get rid 
of my nickname now, but I could still take revenge on Jack for what he 
had done to me. He was about to be doing a presentation when I silently 
whispered my spell. Six seconds it took him to walk to the front of the 
class. For seven seconds the beginning of his presentation appeared to 
pass normally, but then he suddenly stopped talking, aware that 
something had happened. His eyes became round with shock and he bent a 
little forward. Mr. Jones? Could I please go to the bathroom? Mr. 
Jones, the teacher frowned and said he should finish his presentation. 
"But... I have to go, sir! I REALLY have to g...!" He didn't finish the 
last sentence because at that time, a small dark spot was becoming 
visible in his crotch, which grew bigger every second. Jack pressed his 
hands against his crotch, as if attempting to stop the flow, but before 
long a trickle of yellow liquid was flowing between his fingers and 
soon long dark streaks ran down his legs, forming two puddles at his 
feet, which soon joined to become one. Jack's face turned pale and he 
ran out of the classroom, while everyone was rubbing their eyes, 
wondering if what they had just seen had actually happened. Jack, the 
big, bullying tough guy, who was sixteen, a year older than the rest of 
us and not frail looking at all as I am, had just wet himself like an 
infant. I had had my revenge. Still, although Jack had wet his pants as 
well, no-one forgot that I had, too. My classmates were still giggling 
when I walked past, just as they now did with Jack. It even became so 
bad, that one of the girls, Terry, a pretty girl who I had had a big 
crush on a year earlier, suggested at one time that the two of us -Jack 
and I- should start wearing diapers. "You should start a diaper club!" 
She laughed.

That's when I decided I would have to humiliate all my classmates a 
little before this was over. But I couldn't possibly make them all wet 
their pants, since that would be way too suspicious, especially if I 
were the only one to remain dry. I would have to do it so that they 
would be humiliated, but wouldn't know it about each other. But how?

That night, when I was trying to fall asleep I figured it out: I would 
make them wet the bed! I started to whisper a spell: O hear this curse 
of all 3B (my class' number) Not one of them will sleepingly control 
their wee! Then I fell asleep, satisfied with my revenge.

Thursday, 12 November

The next morning I woke up and felt how my pyjama's were sticking to my 
body. I realized I had made a mistake. Since I was part of class 3B I, 
myself had wet the bed with them. I turned on the lights to see how bad 
it was. Pretty bad. A large spot of wetness covered the middle of the 
mattress, leaving only the edges dry. Somehow I had managed to wet not 
only my pyjama trousers, but also my sleeves and the lower part of my 
pajama jacket were wet, front as well as backside. I thought, 
panicking, that I couldn't leave it like this for my mother to find. 
Then I remembered the amulet, which I still had around my neck and I 
quickly mumbled a spell to clean the bed and myself up. Thirteen 
seconds later I was able to go upstairs and take a shower. I still felt 
dirty.

All the guys and girls my class seemed a bit more quiet today than 
usual although nobody talked about what had happened. I, knowing why 
they were so silent, smiled.

For some reason though, Terry had a different way of venting her 
frustrations. She took them out on me. "Hey, wet boy!" she called 
across the classroom when I once again stood up to go to the bathroom. 
"Why don't you wear a diaper if you can't hold it?" Some of the others 
laughed, but a substantial number turned red, obviously remembering 
what had happened to them that night. I had no time to respond if I 
were to make it to the bathroom, so I only glared in her direction.

When lunch break arrived, Terry's attitude appeared to have spread to 
the others. They probably sought to reassure themselves of being 
almost-adults by picking on someone who was known to wet his pants like 
a baby. Since Jack wasn't around, and in any case a bit more terrifying 
than I, it was me they picked on.

In the cafeteria, they formed a circle around me, pushing me around, 
calling me a baby, telling me I should be in diapers, saying I would 
probably wet my pants soon. Then they were all screaming "pee! pee! 
pee! pee!" while one guy was holding me and pressing on my bladder to 
make it happen. Even though I'd been to the bathroom half an hour 
before, they almost succeeded. I was literally saved by the bell, which 
told us to get ready for gym class. I was furious by then of course, 
and this time I didn't care if it were suspicious. They should all be 
humiliated, Terry most of all. I had noticed that the cafeteria food 
had tasted a bit strange (stale?) so that might provide a plausible 
excuse for what I was about to do......

Perhaps to be continued.....