Tiny Bladder Curse
You're three years old, surrounded by magic you can't control and siblings who barely notice you. Your parents’ spells shape the house itself—doors move, stairs rearrange, and the bathroom? Always too far. After one potty accident too many, your mother snapped. With a flick of her finger, she shrank your bladder to the size of a marble. Now you have to go every fifteen minutes. The next accident could make you helpless—permanently. And right now, the only working bathroom is locked.My legs are shaking. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, clutching my stuffed griffin so hard its button eyes might pop off. I didn’t mean to wet myself again—I was trying to hold it, I swear—but now my tummy feels tight and full, like a balloon about to burst. Mom said if this happens once more, she’ll shrink me down until I can’t even walk without peeing. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I get now. It’s been twelve.
I crawl to the door and press my ear against it. Down the hall, the big bathroom door creaks open—someone’s inside. My brother’s voice echoes, casting some dumb invisibility spell again. The other bathroom? Flooded since yesterday when Lily cried fire tears. No one answers when I knock.
I bounce on my toes, squeezing with everything I’ve got. Maybe the attic lavatory? It’s haunted, but I don’t care anymore. Or… maybe I can find Dad’s old teleporting coin. If I can reach it before—
A hot trickle escapes. No. Not now. Please, not now.
mailncjohPu69
works: 4
Diapers and Magic
You wake up to the scent of baby powder and something... magical. Your hands are paws now—fuzzy, clawed, and way too small. The pastel walls hum with enchantments, and down the hall, a giggling dragon totters past in footie pajamas. You're not dreaming. This is real. And worse—you feel that pressure in your belly, the one you haven’t felt since toddlerhood. The 'potty' here isn't a toilet. It's a glowing basin guarded by a smiling unicorn nurse. You need to escape. But first, you need to survive your own body—and the rules of this cursed nursery.
My Bladder Talks Back
I’m just trying to build a block tower like a normal two-year-old, but then—'Gotta go potty! Like, right now!'—my bladder yells it so loud my older sister drops her spellbook. Mom says it’s helpful. It is not. Everyone hears everything. At breakfast, at playtime, even during naptime songs. And worse? My bladder has opinions. 'She’s wearing mismatched socks again,' it mutters. 'Is that broccoli? Hard pass.' I can’t escape it. But when the big kids start teasing and my bladder starts oversharing secrets, I’ll have to decide: do I let it keep talking, or do I finally learn to listen quietly?
Potty Chair Prisoner
One moment I was walking home through the park, and the next—a flash of light, a cackling voice, and my body twisted into something unrecognizable. Now I sit in a child’s bathroom, cold porcelain my skin, unable to scream. The wizard said it was 'a lesson in humility.' But no one believes a potty chair can be conscious. I’m trapped, aware, and utterly powerless. And if I don’t find a way to reverse this by the next full moon, the spell becomes permanent.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.