Story #91: What's Going On Here?

Story #91: What's Going On Here? (Part 3 to 'The Poo-Poo Doll' series) (Content Tags: Supernatural, mushbrained antagonist, obsession and twisted affection, messy and wet diapers, messy underwear, ongoing story) Pascal couldn't hide in the bathroom forever, even though he really would prefer it. The quasi-famous boy was still reeling over what had just happened and the disgust within hadn't yet faded or dulled to something he could easily hide. Disgust wasn't the only thing rattling around in his gut, there was also a sense of dread. The ominous way that Renard spoke, and the particular words that he chose, it was difficult to just brush it off as empty-headed ramblings. There was intent in those words, there was a want that was brazenly being flashed like a giant neon sign. Pascal killed some more time, sitting on the toilet with his pants still on. Much to his dismay, there seemed to be a diaper pail even in here, and the huge package of swim diapers looked like a likely culprit as to why. Apparently Renard couldn't even get through a bath without the possibility arising that he'd pinch off a torpedo in the water. The sight of them, especially with the pail partially open and showing a hint of brown-stained blue padding, made his head spin even more. Renard had said something about Pascal wearing diapers too, about becoming a hapless 'pootard' just like him; was this really the fate that the dummy wanted for him? And why? Was he really that desperate for friendship? "Why couldn't it have been *anyone* else..." The boy lamented, burying his head in his hands. "Why'd I have to go and open my mouth..." There was suddenly a knock at the door, and Pascal nearly fell off the toilet in surprise. "You fall in or something? Don't think you can go shirking your responsibility to my boy now, just hidin' away in the bathroom!" The woman's stern tone brought an authority with it, and as much as Renard scared Pascal, the dummy's mother almost scared him more. "S-sorry, miss! I'm almost done, I just, uhh...I'll be right out!" "You better. Renny says you're eatin' supper with us, so make sure you wash up!" Did he really have to stay for dinner too? Hadn't today already gone poorly enough as it is? He let out a sigh and stood up from the toilet. On the bright side, he would at least be more closely supervised for that, which hopefully meant that Renard would either behave himself or get caught acting weird. Pascal washed his hands and gave a final look to the fuming diaper pail. It was just one week; he just needed to be Renard's 'friend' for one week, and then he could excise him from his life forever! Or at least make him more a part of the environment, instead of a humiliating tormentor. By the time that Pascal had finally returned to the kitchen, Renard had been changed into a fresh diaper, and was sitting in what looked like an oversized highchair. It was a pleasant surprise to see that they wouldn't be eating with Renard sitting in his own filth, but Pascal knew how short-lived that would be if lunch at school was any metric to go by. The other silver lining was the highchair, even if it looked ridiculous, since it would restrain the dummy away from him during dinner. Pascal took a seat at a chair that was further away from the boy and he awkwardly tapped fingers on the table. "Supper is ready; I made meatloaf and mashed potatoes." Announced the woman, as she came to the table with plates in her hands. She would be dining off of a real one, while him and Renard were stuck with plastic plates with juvenile animal prints on them, and with the added indignity of plastic mats underneath to keep the table tidy. He would have just kept his mouth shut, but then she brought them their beverages too. Two sippy cups of milk. That was problematic, for more than one reason. "U-uh, miss? I don't think that I should need this kind of cup and--" "We drink da' same!" Renard suddenly interjected. The woman sat at the table, "I don't want you spillin' nothing on the tablecloth. Besides, if Renny can drink out of one, so can you." Pascal got pink and he picked the sippy cup up, looking at the smiling face of Bluey. "W-well, also, I can't really drink normal milk... I need almond milk or--" "Don't give me that crap! That's some liberal west coast garbage; ain't nothin' wrong with drinking some milk. Especially a boy as little as you; you look like you could snap in half just sittin' there!" Pascal pursed his lips, unsure how to respond to her abrasive and highly opinionated rebuttal. He was lactose intolerant, and while he could have a little bit of dairy without issue, a big cup of milk would be havoc for his gut in the near future. "..Y-yes ma'am..." Pascal mumbled, looking down at the packed plate. It was easy to see why Renard was so hefty, if this was a typical portion. He started to gently peck his fork at the food, while Renard used his hands quite slobbishly. "Stop playin' with your food. I better see that plate completely clean before you leave. Cup too." "Yes ma'am..." They ate in an awkward silence after that, only the sounds of eating filling the room, especially with how shamelessly loud Renard was about it. "More! More!" The mushbrain suddenly demanded, wiggling around in his chair, his diaper noisily crinkling with every movement. Already? Pascal was barely halfway done with his plate, and he'd gotten a smaller portion than Renard had! He gave a quick glance and grimaced at the sight of his mandated friend who was covered in his own food. While Renard's mother went to plate more food for her darling son, Renard locked eyes with Pascal and suddenly twisted his face up. "Nnghhh...dinner poopies.." The boy grunted softly. "D-dinner what?" Pascal blinked, confused momentarily. That confusion went away pretty quickly once he heard a muffled fart and a nasty crackling coming from the highchair. As natural as breathing, the retard was freely defecating in his diaper; it took him almost no time or effort to push out the turd, and then he let his tongue droop from his mouth in mindless relief. The woman came back with more food for Renard and caught a whiff of something at the table; before she could deduce the obvious culprit, her son chirped that 'Pascy farded', and Pascal was scolded for rude behavior at the dinner table. Pascal tried to deny it, since it was so clearly Renard that was the source of the odor, but then he got too worked up and let out a fart for real. With his milk halfway gone, and being whole milk at that, his stomach was starting to protest. With his defense defeated, the boy sulked and returned to eating his meal. Desperate to leave, Pascal picked up the pace with dinner. The food wasn't terrible by any means, but it was heavy, and by taste alone, not very healthy for a boy that was more accustomed to a mindful diet. Once he'd gotten to the last few bites, Renard was finishing up his hearty second helping. The woman collected the plates and went to take them to the sink. Meanwhile, Renard gave Pascal another sly look; the chunky dummy lifted his diapered rump as far up from the highchair as the restraints would allow, and the crackling sound returned with a vengeance. Pascal watched in disgust, surprised he'd even been able to keep his appetite throughout this ordeal. Renard pinched off another fat turd in the diaper and immediately sat back down on it to 'hide' the evidence, all while keeping his eyes locked on the object of his obsession. His mother came back to let him out of his highchair and wrinkled her nose again. "Pascy *POOPED.*" It was a much bolder accusation than last time, and patently ridiculous! Right? Pascal might not be the most mature kid in the world, and he may not be above suspicion for farting, but she couldn't really expect he might soil himself like her idiot son! ...Right? He let out a nervous chuckle and waited for the woman to do the same, but she didn't. Instead, she looked between the two boys for a moment and then turned directly to face Pascal. "Is that true? Have you got stinky britches?" It would have been laughable if it wasn't such an embarrassing question to receive. He probably hadn't been asked something like that since he was in Kindergarten! The boy froze up and just stared at her. "Well? Spit it out, city boy. Did you mess your britches or not?" "N-no..! Of course not!" "So you're sayin' my son's a liar?" "What?! No! N-no, I'm not, but--" "Stand up." What the heck was happening here? Did the woman despise him so much that she wanted to humiliate him, or was her perception so warped by caring for her dimwitted son that she actually thought one of his classmates may poo himself? "I said stand up! If you got poop in your pants, then I don't want you staining the cushion on the chair!" She grabbed him by the arm and effortlessly forced him onto his feet. "I swear, if you crapped yourself in my house..." She grumbled, forcing the boy to turn around and tugging down his pants. Pascal was paralyzed by shock, and while his cartoon briefs got displayed out in the open, all he could look at was the pleased expression on Renard's face. If he didn't know any better, then he'd think that this had been meticulously planned. His briefs were a little on the childish side, having a colored waistband and superhero prints all over them. Getting a closer look at his tush, the woman was greeted by the infantile sight of skidmarks, which matched the small yellow stain in front, but no evidence of anything solid. "Hmm...No number two; though if you were my child, you'd be goin' over my knee and gettin' put back in Pampers, with you dirtying yourself up like this. It looks about the same color as Renny's diapers when he needs a change." She pulled his pants back up around his waist and stepped away from him, completely unapologetic for her demeaning treatment of him. She went back to letting Renard out of his highchair and checked his diaper, which as Pascal already knew, had a mucky pile steaming in the back. "Hmm, I think this can last a lil' bit longer..." She mumbled, snapping the waistband back and giving him a squishy pat on the rear. The woman then turned toward Pascal again, "I'm going to step out for a moment. You and Renny can get the dishes cleaned up. Don't break nothin' while I'm on the porch." "O-oh, actually, I need to go to the bathroom--" "You were *just* in there. I know your parents probably don't expect you to do anything around the house, but in *my* house, if you didn't make supper then you clean up the dishes. Hop to it, boy." Pascal wanted to argue, but she was already walking off, undoubtedly to go have a post-dinner cigarette out front. He knew he shouldn't be surprised by her demeanor or demands by now, but it still chafed him that she expected him to do chores while he was technically the guest here. Renard just gave him a drooly smile and gave his own lumpy seat a squeeze. "...Let's just get this over with." Pascal sighed, heading into the kitchen proper and going to the sink to wash the dishes. He hadn't been trying to get out of the duty by going to the bathroom; Pascal really did need to go! That milk, alongside the heavy meal that he'd been compelled to eat *way* too much of, was making his tummy somersault. "Renny saw Pascy's undiepants." Renard giddily mentioned. The streamer had his hands covered in soap already, with a scrubber going full throttle at the serving dish. He blushed and rolled his eyes, "...Yeah, because you lied to your crazy mom. I don't know what your angle is, but I don't appreciate it." The drooling boy giggled and stood beside his guest, which went unappreciated due to the odor he brought with him. Renard let out another juicy fart, provoking a grimace from Pascal, who finally turned his head to openly scowl. "Can't you go stand somewhere else? I'm sick of smelling you." He nastily snapped. "Smellin'...Poo-poo?" Renard inquired, as if asking him to clarify what he meant. Before Pascal could further explain, Renard bent his knees and began to loudly grunt. "Uhh...ughhh..UGHHH! **UUGGGGHH!**" With each infantile grunt, growing louder and less restrained, sloppy gas blasted against the diaper and brought with it a heavy, squishy splattering sound from within. Renard's bulky diaper sagged lower, the legbands staining brown from the nasty assault and the top of his buttcrack beginning to show itself. "**POOOPIES FOR PASCY!**" Pascal again reeled back, but there wasn't anywhere to really go in here. Renard was looking over at him, lifting his head to show the slobber and snot that'd come part and parcel with the 'parcel' that he'd just proudly dropped off. That expression was once again the oddly confident, almost 'suave' look of someone who thought they'd just impressed their crush. Pascal wasn't impressed; not that it wasn't an impressive display of sheer idiocy, but it wasn't bringing forth the reaction that Renard was so sure that it would. Renard wasn't one for backing down though; this just reassured him that his plot to alter his beloved was still necessary. The dummy squeezed the back of his diaper again while looking directly at the streamer, "You wanna squish? Squish tardee diapee? Squish warm poopies?" Pascal was done. Only on his first day and he was ready to throw in the towel. "That's it, I'm leaving. There's no way I'm going to spend the whole week with a gross, smelly retard like *you*." Before he could make an exit, his gut shot off the final warning; there was a longwinded fart and the boy's eyes grew wide. That milk was proving itself to be no joke, and Pascal was all out of time to seat himself in the proper place for it. With his bowel control breached, he groaned and felt his briefs suddenly fill with a muddy flow. He was pooping his pants, just like the mushbrain he'd just berated. Renard grinned widely, watching Pascal helplessly fill his underpants with blasts of smelly shame. As fate would have it, the boy's mother was taking this time to come back inside from her reprieve, and she was catching sight of the loathsome brat soiling himself. "What's going on, here?!" What was going on, indeed. And what would be going on through the rest of this week?