Tale #126: Malady Mover:

Tale #126: Malady Mover: (Content Tags: Messy diapers, humiliation, brain drain, role reversal, cousins, light reference to scat, supernatural, surrealism) His cousin was supposed to be the autistic retard that crapped in his pants, not him! Why couldn't anyone else see that? Life had turned upside down as of late for Mason; up until a few days ago, he'd been a developmentally thriving sixth grader that was smart, athletic, and generally respected by his peers. He hadn't so much as peed his bed or sharted in his boxers for years. He was in fact a shining example of what a boy his age could hope to be! His cousin on the other hand... In the least offensive manner of speaking, Charlie was 'special needs'. In the way that Mason would put it: he was a drooling retard that dumped constantly in his big, fat diapers. Medically, the diagnosis would be more accurately a severe form of autism that greatly impacted Charlie's cognitive capacity.  At best, Charlie was on the level of a particularly slow preschooler. Pottytraining was a pipe dream, and he was very sluggish in his thoughts, but he knew enough basics to not be considered mentally outright a toddler. He also had enough self-awareness to feel some modicum of shame for his abysmally dim wit. A typical day for Charlie had him watching baby shows and playing with toys. He'd sit around the house, drooling onto a large bib; he'd very often be making gassy rumblings in his bulky diaper, which would be obscured by a taut onesie of some variety. He couldn't be trusted to keep out of his diaper once it got full, so any possible entrance to such was barred by the infantile clothing that he called his wardrobe. For similar reasons, the diaper pail was latched shut in a way that was too complex for Charlie's dimwitted dexterity. The differences between the two boys couldn't have been more obvious. Charlie was a couple of years older and far bigger than Mason, but Mason had unmatched superiority in every other metric that mattered. It was humiliating for Charlie to be casually disparaged when people spoke of him in relation to his younger cousin; whenever Mason's accomplishments and milestones were lauded. A new baseball trophy, a blue ribbon in the science fair, a first date at the movie theater, or even just having to watch Mason mosey over to the toilet to poop like a big kid, while Charlie was squatting down and unleashing a gargantuan turd into his jumbo-sized Huggies. They didn't give any medals or trophies for *that*. If they did, then Charlie would have had a trophy case that surpassed Mason's in size. Charlie was madly jealous that Mason had lived such a privileged life, but he wouldn't have been so bitter about it if Mason was a nice kid. The fact of the matter was that Mason was a total jerkwad. He knew how to act in front of the adults, in order to seem respectful and mature, but he spoke to Charlie in the most caustic of ways. Mocking him, belittling him, bullying him. Mason had no reason to want to make himself feel better by tearing someone down, but he still did it to Charlie at every opportunity. His name for Charlie, whenever the adults weren't around, was plainly just calling him 'retard' or 'an autist'. Charlie was smart enough to recognize he was being horribly insulted, and he'd get upset every time. Emotional regulation was especially hard for him, so he'd whine and fuss until he shook and shit in his pants. Then Mason would taunt him for that too and make a flippant comment about how disgusting Charlie was and how he knew Charlie was so retarded that he wanted to play with his own muck. Luckily, the two cousins didn't live in the same town, so Charlie didn't often have to suffer this abuse. There would sometimes be months between having to see Mason, which was always something pleasant for Charlie to hold onto. During one of these lulls, a new family had moved in next door. Charlie was usually apprehensive about new kids, but he was pleasantly surprised by who he met: Rich, who was a soft-spoken eight year old and who had been nothing but nice to Charlie, and his older brother Daryl, who was similar to Charlie in being less than sharp. For the first time, Charlie had felt like he'd made great friends. Daryl was a dumb diaper-dumper like him, and Rich treated Charlie like he was worthy of dignity. The trio spent a lot of time together and Charlie had been able to forget about his embittered relationship with his younger cousin. But then the unthinkable had happened. Mason was coming over, and not just for a short visit, but for a whole week! Apparently his cousin's house had been found to have some kind of potentially dangerous mold and it had to be properly cleaned by professionals, so Charlie's family would be hosting. The first day that Mason was over, he had already made an attempt to ruin whatever semblance of friendship and camaraderie that Charlie had managed to scrap together. Charlie had been out in the front yard, playing with his two new friends, and Mason had marched on out to survey what he thought he saw. Daryl, with a thick diaper that peeked far out of his waistband, was very obviously an autistic retard like Charlie. Thus, Mason didn't question that friendship at all. The other boy though, who was closer to Mason's age, seemed too normal to be hanging around Charlie. "Are these your friends, Charlie?" "...Yuh." Rich looked up at Mason with a welcoming smile, "Oh, you must be Mason, right? Charlie said you would be coming to his house." Mason shifted his gaze between the three, "One of these things is not like the other...At least, I think. Are you a retard too, or do you just like playing with them?" The smile on Rich's face faltered, "That's not a nice word. Don't say that again. I'm playing with Charlie because he's my friend, and that's Daryl, who is my big brother." Mason rolled his eyes at what he considered to be either virtue signaling or crybaby sissy junk. "Just because your brother is one, doesn't mean you have to play with others. We should ditch the dummies and go do something fun; stuff that only big kids can do." There were no words from Charlie about that, though several danced in his head. He wanted to give a strong response, but it died in his throat. "No thanks. I'm having fun playing with your cousin; he's nice and doesn't say mean things about other people." Rich replied curtly. Mason glowered down at the three. "Nice? Whatever. You really want to play with a dumb diaper boy instead of a normal one? You know he eats his own poop, right? Thinks that it's chocolate because he's so stupid." "D-doo nawt! I dun' do dat!" Charlie screeched, absolutely mortified that his cousin would launch such a nuclear strike against his character with the first normal kid that'd ever accepted him. Mason smirked, "Yup, that's why he has to wear stupid clothes like that. So he can't get into his diaper. The diaper pail gets locked too. He's a super gross retard, so you should ditch him before you have to see that." Charlie was going apoplectic in his own fury, but Rich didn't look all that impressed by the supposed revelation. If he believed Mason at his word, then it didn't look to move the dial on his view of Charlie. In a fit of impotent rage, a squelching fart rumbled from Charlie's romper as he was very obviously soiling himself from sheer anger. "I said not to say that word. And I also think you're just making that up about your cousin. You're just being a little bully." Rich asserted, seemingly more mature and level-headed than his peer. "Tch, guess you're just a little retard boy too, huh? Bet you got Huggies of your own under there." Mason taunted, clearly offended that he'd been consistently rebuked. "Guess I'll just have to go find the real big kids around here." "Mmph...Me...Big kid!" Daryl suddenly spoke up, his lips coated with drool. Shortly after announcing that, a thunderous fart crashed inside the back of his enormous diaper; his eyes rolled back, snot hung down his nostrils, and the diaper began to swell in back with the sloppy sound of sludge getting pumped into it. "Ughhh, so fricking nasty... Enjoy the poo party, losers." "You should be nicer. What if that was you?" Those words would later echo back to haunt him. Mason would come to understand the importance of being kind to those who were less fortunate, whenever it was his own fortune that soured. There would be two phone calls over the next couple of days that turned things upside down. The first phone call would come from Charlie's doctor, who would inexplicably suggest that Charlie's existing charts were erroneous, and that it didn't look like his diagnoses were accurate; apparently, Charlie wasn't mentally retarded or even autistic, and that had been mistakenly recorded. It sounded ridiculous whenever Mason heard his aunt and uncle discussing it. Charlie was so obviously a mentally incompetent mudbutt and always had been; a change in diagnosis couldn't dissuade years of drooling and diaper dooking! Then there was the second phone call, to the cell phone of Mason's mother. Similarly to Charlie, it was Mason's pediatrician, who said that there was another look at Mason's files that suggested he might actually be autistic and significantly cognitively impaired. In less flowery terms, his doctor was saying that Mason was a retard like Charlie. It came across as a dumb joke at the dinner table. In fact, it sounded patently absurd. Was Mason really supposed to believe that he'd suddenly been marked as a mental invalid while his pantspooping cousin was given the stamp of normalcy? As if to agree with his viewpoint, Charlie grunted and pinched off a big sticky loaf in his diaper while at the table. One of the adults sniffed the air, "Uh-oh, I think someone did an uh-oh in their pants." Mason rolled his eyes at the syrupy tone. He'd literally just watched the bottom of Charlie's romper bulge with a huge turd, he'd heard the sickening crackling that it'd escaped with. So it came as a surprise when his father was lifting him to his feet to pull back his waistband and look inside his superhero briefs. "D-dad!" "Just hold still a second, sport. We just need to see if you made a whopper in your pants." The man gently explained as he peered inside. "T-that was Charlie! He just pooed himself in front of everyone! Just like he always does!" Mason shrieked. "Now Mason, you heard your aunt. Charlie's doctor said there'd been a mistake..." Charlie was just grinning like a loon, even as he farted hard into the load he'd just made and the bulge swelled to a larger size. He was explicitly soiling himself and not trying at all to hide it, and yet Mason was the first suspect! Things would accelerate later that evening. Mason would be told he was going to bed early, while his older cousin got to stay up later than he would typically be allowed.  His mother would come to pull him away from the television, with his aunt in tow, and she'd take him by the hand to Charlie's room. The mushbrain's bedroom was more befitting of a toddler or a preschooler than someone who was practically a teenager now. The bed had plastic sheets and a toddler rail, there was a stinky diaper pail in the corner, cute prints adorned the wallpaper, and juvenile toys littered the floor. Usually, Mason would sleep on the futon in the living room, since he rejected being in the same bed as someone who badly soiled themselves in their sleep every night. Not this time. Mason's mother said that the bed was easily big enough for both cousins to share and she didn't listen to any of her son's bratty arguments to the contrary. Worse, his aunt was pulling a diaper out of the package and bringing it over. "W-what's that for?" "Your aunt doesn't want you sleeping in Charlie's bed without protection, because of your special needs." The woman cooed as she started to slip the pants off his legs. "I don't pee the bed! I'm not special ed like Charlie!" "Don't throw a fit, Mason. We're guests here and your aunt just wants to be safe." For the first time since he was under three, Mason got put into a diaper. It was oversized for his frame, since his cousin was bigger and older than him; with his heft, Charlie wore what were technically 'adult diapers' on the smaller waistband size. The garment being so large, it looked absurd around his own waist, and his pajamas only barely fit over it. Mason would lay in the crinkly bed with a sour look on his face for hours. He wasn't at all tired this early in the evening and he was frankly pissed off that he'd been humiliated like this. He would still end up falling asleep before Charlie came to bed though. The next morning, Mason would awake to a foul odor. It was obvious what it must be, since his slumbering cousin's padded rump was so close to him and Charlie was an infamous bedpooper. Moments after his eyes had opened, so had the door to the room, with his aunt coming inside. "Smells like someone made a present in their pants." She cheerfully announced. Charlie stirred and began to yawn as his mother lowered the toddler rail. Meanwhile, Mason was groggily rubbing his eyes and internally scoffing at the absurdity of saying 'someone' instead of just saying it was Charlie. "Did you make a big stinky present in your pants, Mason?" She asked as she suddenly lifted him up by the armpits. "H-huh? No! Obviously that was Charlie!" Charlie shook his head, "Nope! I don't do dat. I'm notta baby." The older boy sounded different than he had yesterday, as if he'd become more clear in his speaking. Instead of sounding like a toddler, he sounded more similar to a Kindergartner in his speech capabilities. Mason's aunt lifted the boy higher up and gave the back of his diaper a loud sniff. "Shoo-wee! That smells like one yucky diaper!" The younger boy got red in the face from her analysis and began to kick his legs uselessly. "D-does not! I don't poopie in my pajamas!" "Yuh-huh. You poop the bed, because you're special in the head." Charlie quipped as he got out and stood up. "Now, now, Charlie. Your little cousin can't help it." The woman put Mason down on the bed again and the boy felt something mushy smear against his buttcheeks. It was a completely alien feeling to him, but it felt like someone had dumped oatmeal down his diaper. It was obvious that it wasn't oatmeal, but Mason couldn't easily believe the truth. It became impossible to ignore whenever she pulled down his pajama pants and untaped his diaper. During the night, for whatever reason, Mason had crapped his pants. It was a big brown pile in his diaper that he couldn't account for, and his relatives were acting as if it had been expected. Once the filth had all been cleared away with baby wipes, Mason was heavily powdered and taped into a new one. He tried to argue, but his aunt popped one of Charlie's pacifiers into his mouth. "Hard to believe your doctor made such a mistake. Not catching your needs until now, when you're such a wiggly little boy." The woman cooed, giving his tummy a tickle, which made him giggle from behind the pacifier. The day would only get stranger from there. Breakfast saw him getting the same plastic utensils and sippy cup that were supposed to be for his cousin, while Charlie was able to show newfound mastery over the ability to feed himself without making a big mess. The adults talked down to Mason like he was an oversized toddler and would ask Charlie to keep an eye on the boy, whenever those roles had been utterly reversed just a day before. Whenever the two cousins found themselves back outside, against Mason's wishes, they'd soon get another visit from the two neighbor boys. Daryl was as dense as ever, mindlessly picking his own nose, but Rich had a sly smile on his face. "Hello again! Are you ready to be nice today?" Mason grumbled, sitting in the dirt with a makeshift onesie his mom had made out of one of Charlie's large shirts and a couple of safety pins. His big diaper was not all that well hidden. "Shut up. Go away." Rich knelt down to get eye to eye with the grumpy brat. "Sounds like a no. Are you here for the 'poo party' as you called it? Is that why you're in a diaper now? Maybe you're not as big and smart as you thought?" Mason's face got red, "I said to shut up! I-I'm not wearing a stupid diaper like a retard! I'm not like Charlie, or your brother!" Rich looked over at Charlie, "I don't think Charlie's a dummy. Not more much longer, at least." "...What's that supposed to mean?" "It only took five or six days for me when I did it, but I wasn't so good at it back then. I think now, I can do a move in just a couple of days. Maybe three." Mason squinted, "What the heck are you talking about?" "Call yourself what you've been calling Charlie and maybe I'll tell you." Rich shrugged. "W-what? No way! I'm not a...O-one of those!" Mason's face got redder and he felt anger starting to boil quickly in his veins. It was as if his temper was running way hotter than usual. "Yeah? You sure? You definitely *look* like you are..." "I'm not, I'm not, I'M NOT! NOT A RETARD! NOT A--" **BRRRAAAAPPP! SPLLURT! PBBFFTTTT!** A violent gurgling and sputtering exploded from Mason's backside as his anger hit a fever pitch. His face twisted up as he involuntarily began to push a massive solid turd into his oversized diaper. There was no stopping it once it started, and he could only groan and lean forward to let the anaconda slither out uninhibited. "...A retard? You sure about that, poopy-pants? You're definitely looking like a three day job to move most of it." Mason was still having to push the behemoth steamer out, starting to drool on himself in strain as he did. "M-m-move WHAT?" "Charlie's autism. I'm moving it to you, just like I moved my own to Daryl. Bullies get what they deserve, and I think you deserve to be the one getting made fun of, just like Daryl did." If Rich was to be believed, then he'd once been a pantspooping retard himself and Daryl had been a totally normal kid. Now the process was starting with another pair, where Charlie's malady was being moved to someone more deserving of it. Were there really only three days to stop this from happening?