Tale #145: The Worth of a Boy

Tale #145: The Worth of a Boy (Content Tags: Femdom, brain drain, humiliation, messy diapers, horror) "Did you make a big boom-boom for mommy?" Her syrupy voice had cooed, the woman bending down to pull back the waistband of a bulky diaper, as if opening the door to a fabulous prize. "No mommy...Me no make poopie fer' yoo." Came the dulled response of the one that said diaper was taped around. "Wow! No poo-poo, just tinkles? What a big boy!" It was condescending prattle, not that the one being condescended down to was aware of it. The man sitting on the floor, strapped into a cumbersome, white diaper, which struggled to fit his flabby form, was well beyond the point of self-awareness. With drool seeping past his lips like a faulty levee, and a lone booger dangling precariously from his nostril, the man's mind had seen better days. In front of his hulking form was an infantile puzzle of shapes, to which he'd quickly become stumped with, and had instead resorted to sticking one of the blocks in his mouth to drool all over. A shocking display, at least to one person who had to watch it. In a chair across the room, sitting with his knees to his chest and with a book in his hands, sat a much younger male. It was this little boy, still a bit off from middle school, who'd had to take the brunt of the humiliation, as secondhand. Even though it wasn't him wearing the diaper or being treated as an oversized infant, he still had to witness it, and he had to watch as his older brother was reduced to this retarded laughingstock. It wasn't as if it was natural either, though others may not believe him. This nightmare had been intentional, and it'd been orchestrated by the same woman who'd just given him a bumcheck. The full story was something years in the making. Radish, and his older brother Zane, had been split up in their parents' divorce; that'd been three years ago, whenever Radish had been barely seven, and Zane had been around fifteen. Their parents had been in an unhappy marriage for a long time, and while they were toxic on their own, their toxicity was multiplied by their proximity. Radish had gone with his mother, while Zane had gone with their father. They rarely saw one another after that, which Radish hadn't minded, since Zane had been such an abusive bully to him. The last time they had seen one another had been at their father's wedding, whenever Radish had first seen Sabrina and her daughter. Radish hadn't thought much about that half of his family afterwards, especially since his brother and father had still proven themselves to be total jerks at the wedding. He'd returned to his humdrum life with a mother that should have been medicated, in prison, or both. And then that's what ended up happening. After a particularly harrowing night of his mother getting drunk, screaming, and trying to hit him, their neighbors had finally cared enough to contact the authorities. His mother then had gotten belligerent with the cops, gotten arrested, and her other substance abuse issues came out in the wash of it all. She'd be serving five to ten, and CPS couldn't have gotten him out of their shared hovel fast enough. As it was, and it pained him to admit it, life had been immeasurably better with his junkie mother. She may have been neglectful, volatile, and downright scary, but she'd been easy to figure out. Radish had only actually been hurt a handful of times, and afterwards he'd become more vigilant to avoid it. This new home was obviously bigger and better, but it frightened him far more than the crappy rental full of broken bottles. On the surface, it seemed safe and prosperous, but that was merely a facade for the horrors that lurked underneath the surface. In a rare instance, his father had married up, instead of down or sideways. Sabrina came from money, and this house was a perfect reflection of that. Radish never had to worry about getting clean clothes or having enough to eat; he wouldn't go to school smelling like booze or cigarette smoke, and people wouldn't comment about how they could play his ribs like a xylophone. Instead, he had to worry about becoming like Zane. His older brother hadn't been a genius by any measure, but he'd also never come across as stupid. Being so much younger, it was Radish who'd always been embarrassed about seeming dumb or immature; whenever his custody had shifted, he'd been dreading having to live with his brother again, where he'd become a punching bag for a total jerk. Now he would actually prefer that had been the case. He'd rather take the abuse, verbal and physical, than live in fear of becoming as disgustingly devolved as Zane. The memory of first coming into the house was still fresh in his mind too. His anxiety and natural timidity had been shifted in an instant whenever he'd come face-to-face with Zane, after over a year of not seeing him. The once proud teenager, athletic and imposing, had been watching Cocomelon with the most vacant eyes. He'd been more dressed back then, wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt, as if to give him a sense of refinement or normalcy, but it'd been wasted on him. Radish had gone to tease him about watching baby shows, and that's when he'd noticed all the drool. "Don't mind him, dear. He just loves his cartoons." Sabrina had said, as if it was totally normal for Zane to be sitting there in a lobotomized state. The panic hadn't set in yet. At that point in time, Radish had only been childishly amused by what he was seeing. He'd thought it was funny to see Zane in such an infantile state, and then had come further surprise, whenever Zane had made the centerpiece to his degradation more noticeable. With drool pumping out and down his chin, the teen had gotten crimson in the cheeks. He was straining himself to an absurd degree while sitting there, and it hadn't been immediately obvious as to why. Zane's face had contorted, twisting and screwing up like an infant, and a glob of snot began to slide down his left nostril. "...Zane? What are you doing?" Radish had innocently asked, put off by the older boy's shameless grunts. Some gas sputtered out, which caused Radish to laugh, but that was hardly the end of it. Another fart, which was far more forceful and hard, started to blast the carpet underneath the teen, but about midway through, it took on a far different sonic texture. The gnarled toot, low and rough, turned squishy and wet; it was undeniably the sound of a fart transforming into a bowel movement. Radish watched in what was almost a morbid curiosity, as the back of his brother's pants began to bulge with the plethora of solid lumps being pushed out from his bowels. Radish had only ever seen such an act a handful of times, and only ever from toddlers, so he was mystified by the sight. "H-he pooped!" Radish exclaimed plainly, unsure how else to put it. Sabrina had chortled quietly to herself, seemingly unsurprised by the sudden explosion in the back of her stepson's pants. "That was a big one, wasn't it? A big, icky mess." Compounding the confusion that Radish already felt, he stared blankly while the woman crept up behind Zane and began to kneel down. Zane seemed completely satisfied with sitting in his own poo; his slobbery chin and snotty nose a mild inconvenience to his comfort. "Why'd he poo his pants? Is he sick?" It was an innocent question from a boy that was giving his new stepmother the benefit of the doubt. He hadn't any clue what she had done to his big bully of a big brother, but it'd soon become disgustingly clear to him. It would eventually turn his smug grin into a horrified frown. "No, he's just a silly little baby." She then pulled back the waistband of his pants and Radish saw what the teen was wearing underneath: white, shiny, and bulky... It was a giant diaper! His older brother, who had never let Radish have any peace or tranquility, was now a drooling pantsfiller in a puffy adult diaper! It was enough to make Radish audibly gasp. "Yup, that's a big poopie. You want to look, dear?" She cooed at the much younger boy, as if getting a sadistic glee out of showing off what would later be discovered to be her handiwork. Curious and still processing it all, Radish had come closer to look at the diaper that Zane had so shamelessly dumped in. It had a lumpy topography, but lacked any stains, which was a testament to the firmness of the droppings within. The earthy smell radiating off of the bulging backside of the garment was subtle, at least for the moment, but Radish had suspected the fumes would seep out over time. As much vindication as he felt from seeing Zane in such a loathsome state, there was still the obvious question of why or how he had come to be like this. He asked as much, with all the wide-eyed curiosity of youth to match. The woman had clicked her tongue and shook her head, as if recollecting a boyish blunder, such as breaking a window with an errant baseball. "Your big brother got wrapped up with some bad kids, sweetheart. He took some icky things that he wasn't supposed to, and it scrambled his noggin like an egg." That had been the cover story that she'd come up with, that Zane had been influenced by a bad crowd to start doing some hard drugs. It was believable enough, considering his age and temperament, but the tale was recounted with the same casual detachment of describing a kid being caught cheating on a test. He had believed it at first, without much questioning. He was young and he didn't imagine, at least at the time, that Sabrina had a reason to be lying to him. His newfound stepsister, Debbie, had given almost the exact same story, as if it'd been rehearsed, which had given him his first big red flag. Other than Zane's slip into simplicity, there was also the curious case of his father's whereabouts. He had no love or admiration for the man, and those feelings had long felt mutual, but it was still concerning that the raging rapscallion was gone from the house. Whenever he'd first asked his stepmother about it, she'd merely mentioned that he was in a rehabilitation clinic upstate, as he'd been dealing with a lot of stress at his last job. That was what she'd told him at the beginning, but that story would go on to shift in a few ways over the next few months that he was there. Little details would change, such as the location or nature of this supposed facility, and even bigger details such as the reason he was there in the first place. During that time, Radish would also come to realize how strict Sabrina was. Her daughter was a couple of years older than him, so it made sense that there might be a difference of privileges, but Radish seemed to be on the receiving end of all the correction in the house. He never saw Debbie get chided or lectured about anything, whereas he was walking on eggshells to avoid Sabrina's stern tone. Gradually, this difference in treatment began to be contextualized by the propaganda that Sabrina and her daughter would spew. While Radish was ignorant to the ideological title that his stepmother held, which would undoubtedly be the most radical of the 'RadFem', he could at least understand that Sabrina had very little respect or patience for boys. Boys were dumb, smelly, violent creatures that never evolved past the daycare stage; apparently his older brother was exactly as he should be, at least by the tenets of their postmodern 'religion'. It then made more sense why the pair was so comfortable with what Zane had become, and it turned Radish's suspicion dial up a few cranks. Whenever he'd had to see Zane be treated in such a condescending, undignified manner for so long, it'd made him become less amused and more appropriately horrified. Zane may have been a bully and a jerk, but now he was a jumbo-sized toddler that gleefully drooled and pooed on himself all day, and it'd stopped being funny. Radish had happily cackled at all the embarrassing things that Zane would shamelessly do, especially whenever he pushed a load into his Pampers, but then it'd started to feel mean whenever Sabrina or Debbie denigrated his new form. It would be months after, whenever his suspicions grew into confirmations. A small handful of events would coalesce in a brief window to shine clarity into his eyes. The first was something that personally afflicted him in a very unpleasant way: wetting the bed. For as crappy of a hand as Radish had been dealt, he'd never been a bedwetter. Perhaps a couple of times in Kindergarten, but nothing substantial since that point. It started with just one wet morning, but then it happened again and again, with the time between each accident shortening. By the third soggy morning, his stepmother had forced him to start wearing Goodnites to bed, which both her and Debbie were quick to call Pull-Ups. Around this time, as his wet nights became more frequent, he noticed that he'd been getting offered yummy drinks late in the evening. He was skeptical that this alone would cause such a problem for him, since he'd had no issues with late beverages in the past, but it suggested an intentional enabling of his problem. The accompanying infantilizing was a confirmation of that. Second, and far more substantial, was a slip of the tongue from his stepsister. Her and Radish had both been in the living room, with her watching some adolescent drama, while Radish quietly tried his hand at building houses of cards. Zane had also been in the room, confined to a playpen in the corner, where he was busy nibbling the ear of a stuffed animal. Sabrina was out of the house, which had meant that Debbie was in charge. At some point, Zane had started to do what he was best at, which meant screwing up his face and grunting with red cheeks. What started as what sounded like a very firm load, which required much strain, became quite the opposite in the second half; the flatulence kicked up several notches and became much wetter sounding, and what followed was an intensive splattering. Radish cringed of course, still unaccustomed to hearing his older brother painting the inside of his diaper with explosive diarrhea, and the fumes quickly began to permeate through the thick padding of the adult diaper. Meekly, Radish spoke up and mentioned that with an 'accident' that sloppy, that Zane would probably be needing a change sooner rather than later. This soft suggestion was met with a rude rolling of the eyes and a scoff; Debbie was far too entangled in her show to have any concerns for Zane's comfort or the prospect of diaper rash. "Quiet, twerp. He sits in his gross diapers for hours; he can wait for mom to come back. Besides, he's a dumb boy; he likes sitting in his own filth. You'll be the same way." She obviously hadn't meant to, but it had been an admission all the same. It was soft disclosure that made it very clear that whatever had happened to Zane, could also happen to Radish. Which brought things to the third big push: seeing his father again. After living in the house for over three months, without so much as speaking with his father over the phone, the man would briefly show up. More accurately, it was what remained of the man, that reared its head. There'd been very little warning for it either, with Sabrina only casually mentioning that there'd been an issue with his 'rehabilitation', and that he'd only be visiting for a few hours. The same man that'd screamed at Radish, who had struck him with a belt, and who had called him a 'sissy' for crying, was led through the front door on the same kind of leash that one would expect for a toddler or for a child with special needs. The man had always had a beer belly, but he'd truly let himself go since the last time that Radish had actually seen him, and his blubbery physique was still the least shocking part of his appearance. Much like Zane, he was wearing a huge adult diaper. Much like Zane, he was drooling and had a vacant stare. Unlike Zane, he actually seemed to be much worse off. Aside from his weight gain and newfound incontinence, which itself was somehow more extreme than Zane's was, the man had also been liberated of all his teeth and the hair on his head, which made him look more like an infant. On the side of his head was a scar that had only started to fade. Leading him in was another woman, whom Radish was unfamiliar with, but who seemed to have a rapport with his stepmother. The woman, who Radish would hear called Dana, seemed to really straddle the line between treating the man like an infant and a pet. She was allegedly his private nurse, from the supposed rehabilitation center, but she lacked any of the warmth one would expect of such a role. The short time that his father was there, with Dana, was an awkward time that made Radish feel deeply uncomfortable. Bad enough that he'd watched his brother become a giant toddler, but now he had to watch in horror as his father outdid Zane on every undignified front. Radish even tried talking to him, to see if there was recognition, but the man seemed too spaced out to even know where he was. And then he pooped himself. Over and over. Until his diaper was sagging low between his chubby thighs, the leg-gathers stained a muddy brown, the garment packed completely with fudge. Was Radish really to believe that stress had done this? He was young and naive, but he wasn't stupid. For whatever demented purpose, his stepmother had made both his father and brother into these mockeries. Seeing this had been the final confirmation he needed that he needed to be extremely careful going forward. Which was what brought him to the present, where he quietly read his book like a nice, civilized boy, while Zane was slobbering over a wooden block. He didn't know the process that had made this happen, and he hadn't a clue how to avoid it, but if nothing else, he was going to do his best to not make any ripples. Lest he be the third and final victim of Sabrina's cruel whims.