Story #162: Curse of the Poobrain

Story #162: Curse of the Poobrain: (Content Tags: Messy diapers, magic, light scat and general ickiness, humiliation, bullying, bully victim, fantasy setting) Magic can be used in a billion different ways. A spell is really just an instruction, or a series of instructions, that are manifested into reality by the willpower of the caster. Some spells are simple, some are complex. Some spells may be offensive or defensive, and some are just utilitarian. Magic can be used for good, evil, and anything in between. This was the ethos of the Blackwood Academy for the Magically Gifted. Morality was only so followed as deemed absolutely necessary by the council, and the students were taught that no form of magic was considered taboo from an ethical standpoint. This was vastly different from other similar academies, who instead taught their pupils to be righteous and thoughtful in their craft. In places like those, entire schools of magic were considered forbidden, because they were 'evil'. Because it was 'dark magic'. Blackwood scoffed at such self-righteous notions and viewed such a philosophy as detrimental to the future growth of sorcery. No great leaps forward would come from meekly hiding from the darker edges of arcana or by ignorantly eschewing centuries of work by ill-meaning wizards. That wasn't to say that Blackwood believed in complete anarchy either. There were rules of conduct about how magic was to be used inside the academy and there technically were parts of the archives that students were forbidden from seeing until they were deemed experienced enough. But nothing was ever completely off the table for students at Blackwood. All mystic disciplines could share the same roof, and with pupils ranging from preschool to young adult, there was a vast selection of different ideas being used. Even the most 'humble' of magicians had a place in the academy, such as in the 'Special Ed' area, where the loathsome brown mages gleefully cast their shameful 'poo magic'. Contradictory to the big tent philosophy that the school had of magic, the same theory wasn't given to admissions. Blackwood was one of the most competitive academies to get into, with most students being legacy admissions or coming from rich and powerful families. A much smaller population of students got into the academy on pure merit, due to their capabilities or academic scores. Robin was one of those lucky few. The studious preteen had stumbled his way into getting a full ride on a scholarship; he'd published a somewhat impressive thesis at his last school, and it'd gotten around the magical community. That'd been two years ago, and while Robin had learned a lot so far, he'd also come no closer to fitting in. He came from a poor village and had no important relatives that he could point to. There was a chasm of class division that kept him from making meaningful relationships here, and those differences also made him a target for bullying. No one bullied him nearly as much as Piero Pasqualino. Piero was a young boy from the illustrious Pasqualino family, who themselves had a long history of rising to the top of magical society. Many famed pupils of this very academy had come from that family over the centuries, and it gave Piero a license to act as he pleased. What he pleased to be was a pompous jerk that led mockery and derision to those who were deemed less important than him. There was a reason that Robin was a favored target for Piero's scorn, and that reason was entirely about ego. Piero would have grown bored of mocking the 'poor nobody' if that 'nobody' wasn't topping him on academic scores. The Pasqualino name could open many doors and it led to preferred treatment, but Blackwood was still honest enough that scores were purely about merit. That wasn't to say that Piero was lackluster in his abilities; he'd been tutored from infancy by the best scholars available, and his talent had been nurtured. Piero got very good scores. But Robin's scores were better. Robin wasn't all that bothered by the bullying. It was a nuisance, but it felt like a small price to pay for the resources that the academy offered. Social ostracism, getting shoved around and the occasional joke at his expense; these were things he could endure. What he couldn't endure was the injustice of a system that would favor a student for reasons outside their ability. Blackwood didn't boost grades, but they weren't above showing favoritism with promotion. Blackwood didn't separate their students purely by age, but also by ability. Age groups were broad, but the promotion system was how a student was supposed to reach the higher levels of their education. Promotion was limited though, with only selective students being picked to have a chance at it every semester. Students who were similar in capability would be paired and compared by a small board of administrators. Only one student of the pair would be allowed to be promoted, while the other would have to spend more time in the section that they were in. By all means, both Piero and Robin should have been great candidates to ascend to the next level. They were both so good that it would be usual procedure to not put them in the same pairing, as to not be forced to keep one in their current level. However, Piero had the game rigged. One of the administrators was a friend of the Pasqualino family, and in an ultimate act of bullying, Piero had demanded that he be put up against Robin. That wouldn't have been so bad if not for the fact that it was obvious that Robin wouldn't be given a fair evaluation. Piero had even said as much. He had made it abundantly clear that on family name alone, he would be the one who got promoted, and that he'd be forcing Robin to squander his time in a grade that was too simple for him. Worse than that, getting passed over for promotion could end up impacting the scholarship that Robin had been riding on. The petty jealousy of this bratty rich kid was endangering Robin's very future. All the bullying of the last two years suddenly hit Robin right in the chest. Every childish insult or juvenile prank, every time he'd gotten his books knocked out of his hands or had been tripped in the cafeteria. Now that Piero was doing something 'real', Robin retroactively couldn't tolerate all the little things that had led up to this. That's how he'd found his way into the grand archive after curfew. That's also why he'd commissioned a higher level magician to make some adjustments to his school amulet. It was a move that had the possibility of getting him expelled, as he was essentially forging credentials, but it was a key that he needed. The grand archive was the library at the center of the academy. It had tens of thousands of tomes and scrolls, accumulated over the centuries and all rigorously organized. The archive had levels to it, which were typically gated by the promotion system; certain sections were completely barred off from where he currently sat on the school's totem pole. He knew that within this massive library, there were some of the most powerful or twisted spells ever constructed. Somewhere in this library, there was a perfect spell to take care of Piero. Something not to kill him, but to both humiliate and subdue him in a semi-permanent way. Robin couldn't be expected to deal with this bothersome of a bully for years to come. Whatever spell he was looking for, it would be in tomes that were currently forbidden to him. He'd never tried to infiltrate those verboten sections of the library, so he didn't know exactly what to expect. He didn't detect any magic barriers to inhibit him, which he nervously thanked his forged amulet for; the young pupil entered the first limited section without much fanfare. Deeper and deeper he dwelled into the archives. Whatever he was looking for, it needed to be powerful and preferably not easily reversible. He needed a spell that would make it impossible for his target to succeed in their contest of promotion. Where even having an insider wouldn't help. He eventually found himself deep within the depths of the library, where the most sordid spells were contained. This was magic that was considered too dangerous for the vast majority of students at the school; this was magic that would be purged completely from less open-minded schools for being too dark or barbaric. Robin began to scour through a few books off the shelves. He would need a spell that was within his ability, which would automatically disqualify many of the ones he was reading about; some of these spells required legendary ingredients or decades of specific knowledge, which made them either impractical or impossible for him to cast. Many of the spells also had either too high a personal cost, or too severe of an effect. Robin had no love for Piero, but his stomach wasn't hardened enough to inflict such torturous magic on another. He came across a book that'd been shoved in the deepest corner of the lowest shelf; it was bound in...A diaper? He'd never seen a book like this, where a literal diaper was used as a cover. Within the first few pages, he realized how oddly scatological this spellbook truly was, and he wondered if a brown mage's text had somehow gotten mixed up with actually useful information. Brown mages, or 'poop wizards', were the most denigrated of all magic users. The school of mysticism was most referred to by other kids as 'poo magic', and was solely the repulsive creation of wizards who were too lowly to cast anything else. It was exclusively something used by the dumbest of the diaper-dumpers in the 'special' class. The diaper that they wore became their 'well of power', where the fuel for their sorcery was kept. Magical glyphs, runes, or circles were drawn with the brown 'ink' of their own idiotic disgrace. It was foul and degrading, but for wizards who were so cognitively unrefined, it was the apex of their magical capabilities. The less dumb idiots instead usually used their own drool or snot in the same way, which was still disgusting, but decidedly less so. As Robin flipped through the pages, he could see that this had indeed belonged to such a mage, but that the spellcraft was surprisingly solid. This must have been written by the most skilled and intelligent brown mage to ever live, because the instructions weren't just legible, they were complex and poignant. His fingers halted on a page and he saw an illustration that made him gawk. It was captioned as being 'the deepest transformation of the brown mage; the putrid poobrain, who eschews all humanity for the fantastic filth of their own making. All intellect is sacrificed in this enlightenment.' The boy in the illustration was clad in a large diaper, which had been drawn to be very lumpy and obviously soiled. Brown symbols were etched all over the garment, with what was obviously meant to be from the contents of the sagging sack. Similarly, he had what appeared to be a lumpy diaper being used like a bonnet, and multiple other heavy diapers hung from a staff whose head bore the resemblance to a stereotypical stool. Drool seeped from his toothless mouth onto a large bib and there was no wit to speak of in his eyes. It was a repulsive creation. Down below, there were written the words: 'curse of the poo-brained'. Reading further, his cringe turned to a grin. These were instructions on how to forcibly transform *others* into this mockery of magic. Whoever had written this tome hadn't done it with pure intentions, and this curse alone was likely why the book had been locked away so far down. Robin stuffed the book in his bag and turned back. As horrific as the curse appeared, it also checked all the boxes that he'd been worried about: it looked doable, it looked somewhat permanent or difficult to undo, it would disqualify his target from promotion, and as a bonus, it would be an ironic fate to inflict upon his bully. The biggest problem, which would soon become clear, was that to cast such a curse, it would mean having to make utility of the required school of magic. Being a brown mage wasn't something to be taken lightly, even if only using it one time; it was a tacit admission of mental vacancy that carried very harsh penalties in the wizarding world. To be caught using it would very likely come with steep consequences. Not only would promotion be out of the question, but he may just be sent below with the other dimwits that practiced the 'art' in earnest. Additionally, there would be the personal shame of having to cast it in the first place; even if nobody else ever found out, Robin would remember the indignity. It was all worth it. With just three days until the promotion would be decided, Robin got to work in private. Using more utilitarian magic, he would transform a pair of underwear into a puffy diaper around his waist. Then he used his alchemical skills to concoct a powerful elixir that would act as a laxative. Casting this kind of magic required the 'well of power', and that meant he had to *make* it. Robin would go out to the woods to cast the curse. He couldn't very well risk using it in the confines of the academy, especially in his dormitory. He found a secluded spot and set the tome on a stump, then he proceeded to strip down to just the diaper and he gulped down the elixir. His mixture was impeccable at what it was intended to do; within minutes, Robin's gut had been thrown into a burning tizzy that made it bubble and brew. The magician shut his eyes and let loose. Surge after surge of simmering sludge splattered the seat of his diaper. Flatulent eruptions that blew semi-solid mush into his diaper like a self-contained typhoon. Robin's rump radiated the heat of the major mudslide, he could feel the muck oozing underneath as it struggled to find adequate space to smear itself. While still tooting and involuntarily passing soft lumps into the garment, Robin picked the padded book back up and looked closely at what had been so sloppily written. Next would come the incantation, as well as the necessary etchings... The boy's shame grew more pronounced as he was left to dip a 'quill' into the 'inkwell' to scribe the complex array necessary for the curse. He didn't have an overly weak stomach, and at least it was his own to work with, but the real 'ick' came from the feeling that he was lowering himself to a level unimaginable. The only thing that kept him proceeding was knowing that his own shame would be but a speck in contrast to what he'd be putting Piero through. This curse would send every indignity that'd been inflicted upon him back tenfold. The precious legacy that Piero rode the coattails of wouldn't be able to save him, and from the theorems he'd gleaned from these forbidden pages suggested that this wasn't a process that could be reversed. To become a poobrain was a permanent transformation, or at least one that couldn't be reversed except by the talent of a brown mage beyond wonder. Whoever created the curse probably could have reversed it, but expected a user of 'poo magic' to have that kind of intellectual prowess was already patently absurd. Even if a knowledgeable wizard could diagnose the cause of the curse, no self-respecting mage would ever deign to do what was required to cure it. Robin's decision to use such magic now was already a reckless mistake of youth, and his own powerful emotions were at the helm that steered the ship of his actions. After speaking the first line of the incantation, which embarrassingly sounded a lot like a baby babbling about their own poopy diaper, he looked at the next instruction. To finish setting the curse, he would need to speak the final words while loading his seat to the minimum degree that the diagram showed. An explosive burst of 'power' that would send the curse. Robin took another big swig of his elixir, draining the flask completely, and steadied himself. His bowels felt like they were full of lava. The cramping was impossible to suffer without audibly groaning. The pressure was rapidly rising, like a pneumatic piston ready to thrust forward. The bubbling fart was what harkened its envoy; like a cannon stuffed with mud and firing directly into the ground, his diaper shot outward in its split-second expansion. It was such a profoundly powerful bowel movement that he nearly lost the words he was supposed to be saying. Stumbling over them while he was assaulting his padded seat with a supervolcano of excrement, Robin hardly managed to babble the last line of the incantation. The sickly brown arrays and glyphs on his stained diaper began to briefly glow with power, before the curse was cast with an infantile farting sound. Robin struggled to catch his breath, still helplessly soiling himself from the potion he'd used on himself. This was a shame he wouldn't forget for as long as he lived. But for Piero, his entire life would become this shame. The curse had begun, and soon the legacy admission would be known as nothing more than Piero Poobrain, empty-headed brown mage; pitiful practitioner of poo magic; forever relegated to the depths of the academy to be among his fellow disgraces. Promotion day was only three days away and while Robin was currently crapping himself in a loaded diaper after casting the most degenerate of spells, he was feeling pretty good about his chances.