Story #155: Detour De Force

Story #155: Detour De Force (Part 7 to 'Pin-Cushioned') (Content Tags: : Messy diapers, Pull-Ups, humiliation, diaper squishing, supernatural elements, ongoing story) "What's the matter, mon ami? You look scared." Jean-Baptiste had stalled in front of his house, after having been escorted home by his so-called 'master'. The weight of things had come down on him, and much of his anxiety had to do with the weight of what was around his waist. He was wearing a seriously soiled diaper underneath his pants, and two seconds beside him would betray that by odor alone. Aside from the most present issue, as pressing as it was (warmly against his buttcheeks at that), he had concerns of past issues that had come home to roost. From where he stood in the driveway, he could already see that his trash bag hadn't made it to the dump today. Inside was the plain evidence of his messy accidents, in both briefs and a diaper. Then there were the soaked sheets that he'd left in the washer, but that was a little less concerning. His parents wouldn't be home from work for a few hours, but his little sister should have already arrived from school. She would have had to pass that trash bag, which wasn't nearly as opaque as he would have liked. Even if she didn't notice that, and if the laundry room didn't smell like pee, then there was still the *current* state he was in. "Well? What's the holdup?" Jean-Baptiste blinked and cocked his head to look at his stocky tormentor, "I...Can't go in my house like this." "In poopy Pampers? You did the other day, didn't you? What's the difference?" "I have a little sister and she's in there waiting for me. I usually help her with her math homework after school." Remy cooed and gave the shorter boy an affectionate pat on the butt. "Such a good, little boy you are. You don't want her to find out that you're my dumb little baby now?" The blond grimaced as Remy effectively smeared the mushy mess further around. "S-she would never let me live it down. I have to change first." Remy looked thoughtful at what his diapered doll was fussing about. He didn't care much about retaining Jean's dignity or status; it all needed to burn in the end, after all. It did make for a chance to appear more benevolent though, and to insert himself into a more intimate role with his beloved cher. "Mm, I see. Well, we wouldn't want that cute little butt getting diaper rash, would we?" Remy smiled. That brought another issue to Remy's attention. From what he remembered of this morning, Jean had used all his underoos to craft the makeshift diaper he'd shown up to school in. That was a boon for Remy, since it helped to speed up the normalization of diapers in Jean's life, but it also meant that Jean had nothing to change into. The magic of the voodoo wasn't absolute, and he couldn't manifest clothing out of nowhere. For the doll to work, Jean had to already be wearing *something* to transform. No undies, then no diapers. "I suppose we'd need to go to the store then, wouldn't we? Get some baby wipes and something to change you into." Jean-Baptiste didn't like the sound of that. "I don't need help cleaning myself up." Remy clicked his tongue, "You don't know *what* you need my help with, mon ami. You should take my word for it, or else you might need help with a lot more than getting your poopy diaper changed." The threatening tone was enough to put the blond back in his place, even without the implications of what Remy could do to him with his powers. "...I haven't gotten my allowance yet." "Then you'll just have to pay me back, won't you? You should text your sister and let her know you'll be late getting home." It would appear that Remy was serious about heading to the store, which would mean an awkward waddle back a few blocks. Jean-Baptiste wasn't in a position to argue, so he sighed and sent his sister a short text about some soccer practice going long. The walk to the pharmacy was more quiet than Jean would have expected. For as confident as Remy had become around him, the weirdo was still a socially stunted dork. There was also the lack of precedence; Remy hadn't held power like this over Jean for long, and he hadn't fully adjusted to it. When they'd nearly made it was when Remy had broken the silence: "Squish, squish, squish. Every step you take, your Pampers make that sound. Must be familiar to you, no?" "No." Jean replied pointedly. "And still the lies. What would your mama think if she heard you fibbing like that? Bet she'd take the switch to ya." Remy teased. "I'm too old for spankings or getting switched. My sister doesn't even get them anymore." Remy shook his head and approached the entrance to the pharmacy, "You thought you were too old for Pampers too, din't ya? Or to be filling your britches?" It wasn't exactly a fair point, since Remy had since admitted his role in both those things. Jean-Baptiste couldn't exactly be blamed for pooping his pants or wearing babypants when it was the result of bonafide N'Orleans magic. The two boys entered into the store and Jean immediately felt self-conscious. At least when he was outside, he knew his odor would diffuse more freely, but now that he was inside close quarters, it was just a matter of time before he stunk the place up. The squishy sound of his toddling was also more pronounced, and people would be closer to him... "Now where do you think they keep the big boy Pampers? Probably not with the baby stuff or the bedwetting stuff. They'd probably be with the adult diapers, I'd bet on it." Remy was talking out loud, but he didn't sound like he was looking for any answers or feedback. The larger boy suddenly tugged on Jean's hand and he led him toward the back of the store. "I think you'd he cute in a baby diaper, and I'd bet it'd fit too, but something like that wouldn't do its job." Jean's face pinkened at the assertion that he could still fit in something for toddlers. He was on the small and slender side, so Remy was probably right, but Jean didn't like to be reminded of his petite stature. It also added to the humiliation, to think that Remy wanted him parading around in something that had Elmo or Barney on it. Remy pulled him onto the 'incontinence' aisle and the pair were confronted by the sight of dozens of options. Quickly parsing through the many adult options, Remy found the 'youth' section at the end of the short corridor. "Here we are. Puffy padded protection for the pantspooper. Too bad they don't seem to have any with fun prints..." Jean-Baptiste looked relieved to hear that. It was a small victory, but he'd take any win he could right now. He watched as Remy began to read the key notes on a few different brands and wondered what difference it would make. "You need something that you can take care of on your own." Remy announced, "A baby is no good at taping up his own diaper. I think Pull-Ups make more sense." Remy was burying the lede there. It wasn't like he wanted Jean to wear something slightly more mature, but there had to be baby steps. Remy wouldn't be around all the time to diaper Jean, and Jean's parents hadn't yet discovered their son's resurfacing problems yet. Jean would need something he could put on himself, just like underpants. Besides, once Jean put them on, then Remy could easily turn them into a diaper. Hearing that he was getting 'Pull-Ups' instead of diapers was only a small blessing; considering himself a big kid now, they were more similar than they were different. Though in all fairness, he knew pull-ups would be more discreet than a thick crinkly diaper would be. Then again, with how heavy his soiling had been, would training pants really be enough to keep things contained? "Let me see your waist size." Remy commented as he suddenly reached down and pulled out the back of Jean's pants, as if he was a little kid going clothes shopping with an ignorant relative. Remy wrinkled his nose and looked down at Jean's padded seat while he was already down there. "Shoowee! That's a real stinker of a pamper you got there." He reached down and gave the squishy underside a quick squeeze. "We made it just in time. Any more mud in your trunk and you'd be headed straight for a total blowout!" The larger boy chuckled. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?" "Boy, I ain't the one that dumped in those pampers, am I? That's all you." Remy looked back at the shelf and grabbed a package, now that he knew what size he was looking for. Jean-Baptiste snarled and folded his arms, "Y-yeah, well, you're the one that made me do it. With your little magic powers." "Is zat what you're gonna tell people? Gonna tell people that the 'fag' hit you with a voodoo curse? Made you start crapping in your drawers with some swamp magic?" The blond blushed and looked away. When Remy said it like that, it became clear just how ridiculous the claim sounded. He would look like an insane person, or a particularly infantile one; that was the kind of lie that a little kid might use to explain away his dookie-britches! "W-well, no--" "--Don't strain yourself there in figurin' it out. Let's focus on getting that hiney clean." Remy interrupted, gesturing for Jean to start following him again. The two made their way back toward the front of the store, with Remy grabbing a few other essentials in the process. If they lingered in one spot for too long, then Jean would get peculiar looks about the funk radiating off his bulging bottom. Remy brought the items to the checkout lane and waited a moment for the person in front of him to finish up. He went ahesd and deposited the diapers and everything else onto the counter; with his hands free he could dig into his messenger bag for his wallet. "Ya'll two having a blessed day?" The clerk gabbed when it became Remy's turn at the counter. "You could say that." The dark-haired boy smiled coyly. "Just need to pick something up for my little friend here." The woman did a double take when she saw the products they were purchasing and the age of the 'friend' that Remy was shamelessly referring to. "...Oh! Well, wettin' the bed in grade school isn't anything to be ashamed of. My grandson is ten and he still does it too." It was one of the few times that Jean didn't feel compelled to correct someone about underestimating his age. Remy didn't care to correct that part either, but he would correct the *other* comment. "Oh, this isn't because he's wetting the bed. He's been pooping his pants." The lady gawked, almost as if she didn't believe it. Like she was waiting for the punchline, but this wasn't a joke. "O-oh, I see. Well, I'm happy my grandson stopped doing *that* back in preschool." Jean-Baptiste shot Remy a dirty look and then went back to staring at the ground. It was better to just not say anything at this point. She bagged the items and handed Remy his change, "Thanks, does the store have a changing table in the bathroom? My little friend has got some very stinky Pampers on right now." Stricken a second time by the absurdity of what she was seeing, there was a delay, and then she pointed a finger toward the left side of the pharmacy. "Family room is right over there..." "Thank you very much, ma'am!" Remy again took Jean's hand and led him in the direction that the old woman had told him. Jean was back to awkwardly waddling and now the clerk could see that Remy hadn't been pulling her leg. Remy got Jean into the family bathroom and closed the door behind them. "Guess we'll find out just how little you are." Remy teased. Jean blinked and got pink in the face, "E-excuse me?" "The changing table, mon ami. You're such a feather, so let's gind out if you can still get on something made for toddlers. Says the advised limit is fifty pounds, but you're probably not that far off, no?" It was true. Jean was short, sure, but even more than that was just how light he was. It helped him in soccer, since he could glide across the field with ease, but it'd always been an embarrassing element. "I-I'm well above that! Besides, I'm not going to sit on that thing to change! I just need wipes and some privacy..." Remy scoffed, "With a pile like that? You'll be in here all day! Maybe if the little baby hadn't gone poo-poo before he sat on the slide, then the mess wouldn't be so bad..." That teasing felt especially undeserved, since Remy had made him do both of those things. "So, what, are you saying that you're going to change my diaper?" "I wouldn't expect a baby to clean up their own messes." Jean scowled and shook his head, "No. I'll do it by myself. I don't need you seeing me naked." Remy smirked, but decided not to push the issue. He'd done a lot in one day already, and he needed to ease Jean into this new reality that was being crafted. "So touchy, cher... Alright, I'll wait outside." He could have threatened Jean or made him think that he needed to be helped, but this way might help achieve the same result more organically. The more Jean pooped himself and had to clean up, the more he would grow to despise the task. At some point, he'd be far more willing to have someone else take care of it for him. As predicted, it took a very long time for the pantspooper to clean himself up. Eventually he would come out of the bathroom, looking drained from the harrowing task, but being 'fresh'. Remy wasted no time in checking to make sure he'd really put it on and was satisfied to see the pull-up staring back at him. "Must be so proud of your big boy pants, baby boy." "Yeah, this is totally different from a fricking diaper." Jean growled. "Whether or not it is a diaper or underwear is up to you. It's how you use it, or well, *don't* use it." With Remy steering this ship, that decision was something out of Jean's hands. His little aphorism, piffy as it was, was built on a false foundation. The trip back home was again quiet, except for the rustling of the plastic bag that held his new underwear. When they got back to his driveway, Remy instructed Jean to open his backpack and put the pharmacy purchase inside. Jean didn't want to take the pull-ups, but there was no alternative. Even if he wasn't afraid of Remy's reprisals, which he was, then there was still the fact that he was out of underwear! He put the bag away and zipped his backpack back up. "Don't have such a long face, mon ami. I'll even do something nice for you and take that trash bag off to a dumpster. I'm sure you don't want your parents knowing about your filthy little accidents." The kindness was almost suspicious, but Jean was too emotionally exhausted to question it too intensely. This was where they would go their separate ways for day, both with wildly different views on how the afternoon had gone. Jean went into his house and sighed, "Camilla, I'm home!" "Jean! Why does the laundry room smell?" Out of the frying pan and into the fire.