Xenaen

Chapter 1
Xenaen

Chapter Description: My brief and efficient twist on the mischievous genie genre.

“Camryn, I gotta be honest with you.” Mr. Arturo was shaking his head and handing the unsigned bathroom pass back to the frowning 12th-grader. “Every single day since the beginning of this year, you’ve been using the start of my calculus class to go use the restroom. Now, I’ve told you numerous times to address those matters before the bell rings. You’re missing too much explanation and your grades are suffering. I have to put an end to it.”

Camryn growled.-- not confrontationally, but in frustration. “Not today,” he pleaded. “I really gotta go right now. This’ll be the last time.”

To his credit, Camryn was telling the truth. He really had to go. More often than not, he abused his bathroom privileges; overcome with a truly heroic case of senioritis, Camryn had taken to ducking out at the beginning of calculus to sneak a quick joint in the boys’ john. He had convinced himself that the airy high provided by his North Carolina bud sharpened his mathematics skills to a razor’s edge. In actuality, sobriety would have been a boon to his plummeting grades. But the shift in the 18-year-old’s perception, afforded to him by his drug of choice, had not only skewed his thinking, but dulled his sense of personal responsibility.

He had, after all, already been accepted to college. All of this? It was just a victory lap.

But, on that day, well... he really had to go.

“No,” said Mr. Arturo, finally putting his foot down. “I’m not signing it.”

Camryn sneered. “Fine.” He plucked the bathroom pass out of the teacher’s hand. The bearded man recoiled with a start at the sound of hissing notepaper cutting through the air. “I’m going anyway. I’m not pissing my pants on your account.”

“If you’re caught in the hall without a pass, it’s an automatic det--”

“Detention!” Camryn spat. “I got it!”

The young man stormed out of the classroom and slammed the door behind him.

-=-=-

“Fuckin’ cocksucker. Fuckin’ asshole. Douchebag motherfucker.”

Camryn was stamping down the hallway, hands crammed into his jeans’ pockets, muttering whatever meatheaded invectives popped into his mind. It wasn’t his fault he had to rush to class without taking care of business. His science teacher had kept him late, his girlfriend had bitched him out at his locker over one thing or another, and a couple of the freshmen to whom he’d been selling pills were starting to get wise to the fact that they were Motrin. He had a busy life between classes. The high school experience was cutting into his business, both personal and financial.

At last, he made it to the restroom. Storming in, and sighing in relief to the realization that it was empty, the muscular, six-foot-five student grabbed a nearby steel trash can and propped it up against the bathroom door. He gave the handle a few stiff jerks until he was satisfied that his privacy was guaranteed.

Just because I gotta piss doesn’t mean I don’t gotta smoke a J.

Camryn walked towards the stalls and glanced in the mirror. His bleach-blonde fauxhawk stood erect, his blue eyes pierced the glass, and the fury that bubbled just beneath the surface of the skin had given rise to a spot of rosacea that bordered a few extrusions of acne with which he considered himself too old to be cursed.

But something else caught his eye. It was a 16-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew, sitting on the bathroom counter, still factory-sealed and damp with condensation.

“Finders keepers,” Camryn shrugged, and he swiped the libation with a smirk. He figured that, as prone to cottonmouth as he was, a little zing on his tongue and spring in his step would be enough to put him back in commission for the remainder of a newly-chillaxed day.

Absentmindedly, unthinking, almost as though his muscle memory had taken control, Camryn, having subconsciously decided to take a swig of the sugary sweet before relieving himself, untwisted the cap.

The snapping of a broken plastic seal was the only sound that separated our own unremarkable universe from the one in which Xenaen, the most clever and whimsical genie in existence, filled the boys’ first-floor restroom with her alluring green glow.

Camryn raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? A motherfucking Mountain Dew bottle?”

“Don’t judge,” said Xenaen, wiping a droplet of Monsanto’s finest corn syrup from her silk-shrouded wrist. “It’s so tacky.”

“So I get three wishes, right?”

“Honestly,” said the genie, “the sense of entitlement indulged by your generation is utterly revolting to me.” She dressed the part, all right; appearing as though her age scarcely surpassed the teens, the style of Xenaen’s dress bespoke a tenure more in the hundreds, if not thousands, of years, and the variety of her jewelry and sundry embellishments suggested that she had been around the world multiple times, leaving no stone unturned or unclaimed.

“There is a catch, however.”

“What’s that?”

“O’er whisp’ring sands / The Djinni calls / But echoes not / Beyond these halls.”

“Come again?”

Xenaen rolled her eyes. “My power is limited by the boundaries of the structure. Your wishes will expire, evaporate, what-have-you, as soon as you exit the doors of this school, though they’ll reactivate upon your return. So I’m afraid things like wealth and fame won’t be of much use to you, Master, unless you’re particularly fond of the vending machines and trophy cases.”

Camryn scoffed. “You call that wish fulfillment? Talking about my generation...”

“People try to put us down,” Xenaen replied, “just because we--”

“Alright, alright.” Camryn threw up his hands. “Three wishes, but they’re only good for use in this school.”

“You spend a third of your life here, do you not?” Xenaen raised an eyebrow. “Surely you could make use of having the upper hand in matters social and academic.”

Camryn curled his lip and nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I’ll bite. I wi-- hey. Wait a minute.”

“What?”

“You’re not one of those cynical, sarcastic genies that opportunistically literalizes the wishes you grant for your own personal amusement, are you?”

Xenaen blinked. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know. Like... I’ll wish -- and I’m not wishing now, for the record -- but I’ll wish to get a C on my physics final and the whole fucking Atlantic Ocean will come shooting out of the paper.”

“Why would you wish for a C in the first place?” asked Xenaen. “Look, all genies are like that. That’s how it works. But you fancy yourself a shrewd sort of lad, don’t you? I’m sure that if you word your wishes carefully enough, you can make these final few months as pleasure-filled and responsibility-free as you desire.”

Camryn thought for a moment, then nodded. His “business” could wait. First, he could attend to the business of reinforcing his status as king of the school... one step at a time. And the first thing he had to do was squash any chance there was that the image of his power could be jeopardized by someone as inconsequential as a calculus teacher.

“Very well,” Camryn grinned. “My first wish. I wish that I didn’t have to beg Mr. Arturo to go to the bathroom.”

“Your wish is my command,” Xenaen nodded, and a soft green glow washed over the high school senior.

Camryn was wearing a diaper. And not just that-- he was wearing a double-thick disposable adult diaper to the exclusion of everything else, his t-shirt, jeans, and shoes having vanished into the aether, and leaving the confused and very chilly teenager standing barefoot on the filthy boys’ room floor. He looked down in horror to see his happy trail disappear into the top of his new diapers and, distracted by confusion and fury, he began to wet himself, draining his bladder into thick polymers of the diaper as the hot hiss of escaping urine signaled the new activity undertaken by his rapidly-soaking penis.

Worse yet, he couldn’t stop himself. The signals that connected his brain to the muscles of his groin simply weren’t firing. Startled, and helpless, Camryn could do nothing but stand there and whine in surprise as the front of his diaper became saturated... then the space between his legs, and up along his ass. He looked, and felt, like a total baby.

“Granted,” said Xenaen, a smug smirk taking up residence on her sultry face. “You won’t be needing to beg Mr. Arturo -- or anyone else -- for the opportunity to use the bathroom any more. For you are wearing yours, young man, and your toilet training has disappeared for as long as you’re in the school building.”

“That’s not what I meant!” yelled Camryn, though his protest came out more as the petulant whine of a toddler. In one fell swoop he had completely undone all the social capital he had worked his entire life to build up. He simply couldn’t spend the rest of his senior year incontinent-- he’d be the laughing stock of the student body, and his nightmare would be relentless.

“You have two more wishes,” Xenaen reminded the harried teen.

“Damn straight,” he hissed. “I wish... I wish I didn’t need to wear diapers!”

The green glow returned, enveloping Camryn in its misty aura. “Your wish is my command.”

And, just like that, Camryn didn’t need to wear diapers anymore.

He wanted to.

To his utter horror, Camryn realized that he loved diapers. He loved everything about them. He loved the way they felt against his skin. He loved the way he felt when he was wearing them. He loved the soft cottony inside and he loved the secure plastic outside. He loved the crinkling sound they made, and he loved the smell of baby powder, and he loved the illusion, however temporary, that he was safe and little again. And the only thing he realized he loved more than wearing them himself was the idea of other boys just like him wearing and wetting them, too.

“Granted.”

“You bitch,” Camryn moaned. Tears welled in his eyes.

The worst was the humiliation. In spite of his nearly obsessive fetish for dressing and behaving like a baby, he still felt the searing, stabbing shame of being 18 years old and dressed only in soggy, ammonia-stinking baby pants. And, as if that wasn’t enough, he was getting an erection. With each passing moment, his cock twitched anew, a fresh rush of blood filling out the spongy tissues inside it and driving the boy to become achingly, ragingly horny. His balls were boiling. He needed to get a load off, and quick.

But he knew that he’d never be able to ejaculate as long as he felt so terribly, wretchedly humiliated.

“I wish...” Camryn sniffled. “I wish I wasn’t so goddamn embarrassed!!”

-=-=-

“So, we find the derivative of the cosine x--”

“Hey, everybody!!” Camryn shouted, throwing open the classroom door. He stomped in on bare feet, the cool air of the classroom lapping at his naked skin and soaked diaper, and robotically guided Mr. Arturo to a seated position at his desk. “I’m afraid I’ll be taking over this class from this point forward, Mr. A.”

“Camryn!” the bearded man yelled. “What is the meaning of this!? Put some clothes on, for God’s sake!”

“Nope!” the teenager declared. “I got shit to do... and to make!”

Camryn squatted at the front of the room and started pooping in his diaper. He grunted, squirmed, and moaned as he squeezed out some very rude and flatulent noises. The seat of his disposables began to fill, rounding out with a brown hue and an unbearable stench.

“Jesus Christ!” called out one student.

“Baby, stop!” Camryn’s girlfriend shouted.

“No can do!” he howled with a grin, pinching off the last of his massive bowel movement. “This baby’s made a stinky, and he’s gonna goddamn well enjoy it!”

Camryn dropped to the tile floor, his load of shit smooshing all over his ass cheeks, and whipped his erect cock out over the top of the front of his diaper.

Some students were laughing. Others looked away. Most of them just gazed on in stunned silence.

Moaning, squirming, and sucking his thumb, Camryn masturbated in his filthy diaper at the front of the class, pounding his heels on the floor and not stopping until his toes curled and several arcs of hot semen launched out of his slit and splattered to the linoleum.

To this day, Camryn remains institutionalized, sharing his room with a fellow horny 12th-grade diaper boy, insisting upon tales of a Mountain Dew genie, and hoping that he gets a chance to finish earning his diploma in the building where he’s always, if nothing else, the guaranteed center of attention.