Story #73: Acting Your (Alleged) IQ

Story #73: Acting Your (Alleged) IQ (A sequel to 'The Missing Integer') (Content Tags: messy diapers, farting, humiliation, domination, forced diaper sniffing, slow intelligence loss, exaggerated special ed, surrealist horror, bureaucratic horror, bullying, genius protagonist) That first day of special ed had really taken a toll on him. Thanks to the bottle of prune juice, he'd spent much of it farting and repeatedly soiling the immense 'retard-diaper' that'd been assigned to his supposed IQ level. In between gassy pantloads, he'd had to narrowly dodge the curious noses of his new mushbrained classmates. He'd been rather popular, just not for any of the right reasons. Being the 'dumbest' kid meant that many of the morons mocked him, while having the biggest diaper (and one seeing as much action as his) meant another portion of the drooly dummies were out to huff his heavy Huggies. Then there had been Benjamin. His former 'rival' made into 'wrangler'. He'd been a problem all his own, since he intentionally took the time to humiliate the genius in any way his jealous mind could concoct. The teacher spent most of the class on her phone or her computer, so Benjamin had free reign to torment the one that'd been better than him in school for years now. And the nightmare hadn't ended when he left school either. His parents had been well informed of his transfer to the special ed hall, and while they should absolutely know it was some type of terrible mistake, they too were convinced by the algorithm that'd said he belonged like this. Years of academic achievement and displays of extreme mental fortitude, none of that meant anything. A worn key on a keyboard had decisively sealed his future with one errant typo. So being at home didn't offer him any reprieve from being labeled as a drooling, pantspooping retard. He still wore immense diapers, his clothes had all been replaced, and his room itself was being remodeled to fit his alleged IQ score. A big crib, a changing table, an oversized bouncer... All his old furniture was being replaced, just as his identity was being rewritten. His younger brothers had gotten a kick out of it for sure, and they too bought into the lie that this was simply who Rhys really was. The twins were half his age and starting to boss him around, all while mocking the massive diapers that actually labeled him 'RETARD' with writing on the seat. Still not allowed to even attempt to show his pottytraining prowess, he had little choice but to whizz and dump in his pants, just as he had in class. During the rest of that first week, Benjamin had been sure to spread the word of what had become of Rhys. The genius hadn't exactly made friends with his insufferable arrogance, so his former classmates were all too amused to learn that the brainy brat was now 'Rhys the retard'. A few even intentionally passed by the special ed hall during school to peek in the window and see what had become of him. They could gawk and laugh at his giant diaper, at his dunce cap, at his big bib. One such time, early that first week, he'd again been given a bottle to drink, and while he tried to sip in solitude, one of the actual mushbrains in the class had approached him. "Benny said you stupid tardy!" The larger dummy had mocked, smugly looking down on Rhys. From what Rhys knew, this blubbery bully was named Mark, and from what his diaper said, his IQ was hovering somewhere in the sixties. There was an additional humiliating sting to it, for a literal retard to be calling *him* a retard. Mark *actually* wore diapers because he was too stupid to use the toilet, and he wore a drool bib because his mouth was a leaky faucet. Unlike Rhys, this classroom suited his capabilities. Rhys glared, "I'm not 'tardy' like you imbeciles. I'm only here by mistake; I'm a genius being wrongfully treated. Got that, tubby?" His diction and vocabulary should have been enough to inform Mark that Rhys wasn't as dumb as his Tardpants claimed him to be. Instead, Mark just looked irate that the 'dummy' was trying to act like he was smarter than him. "No! You tardy! You got biggest diapee, you da' dumberest!" He growled, taking a step toward Rhys. In his anger, the mushbrain began to twist his face, a snot bubble forming in his nostril and a loud juicy fart sputtering in his exposed diaper, the same one his chubby gut hung over the front of. "Nnghh! Tardy likes POOP!" He exclaimed, talking about Rhys. "Tardy smell MY poop!" The genius looked positively disgusted. "Ugh, vile! I don't want to smell your droppings! Kindly relocate *elsewhere*." The larger boy suddenly pushed him to the ground with one powerful shove, "Stop talkin' smarty! You dumberer den' me! Diapee say so!" Before Rhys could start to pick himself up off the floor, which was already difficult in such a huge diaper, Mark was jutting his own puffy rump into the boy's face and sloppily farting again. "Tardies like poop! Smell my poop!" It would seem that Mark was so happy to have someone considered less intelligent than him in the class, that he wanted to make sure that Rhys didn't try to act smarter than he was. A violent splattering came from the back of the diaper, muffled by the sheer bulk, but loud and powerful enough for it to be clearly audible that Mark was shamelessly defecating in front of Rhys' face. "S-screw off, you dimwit! I'm not going to do that!" He exclaimed, now catching sight for the first time, that some of his former classmates were watching from the window, with one even filming the whole encounter with their phone. Mark wasn't taking no for an answer. "Mmmph! Hrggggg! Me make you! You tardy, me smarty!" Another gurgling eruption burst forth, filling the diaper with more bubbling muck, and Mark crouched down, forcing Rhys to put his nose to the oversized garment. The flatulent flooding of feces became more intense, and Mark's diaper was beginning to swell outward against Rhys' nose, staining a sickly brown with every noisy evacuation. The smell had Rhys dazed, and the juice he'd been drinking had his own bowels crying out for relief. Without control in this situation, kneeling there with his nose to Mark's diaper, he began to helplessly push turds out into his own tardpants. The gassy crackling attracted attention of another nearby mushbrain, and before Rhys knew what was happening, he had become sandwiched by the two boys, with one aggressively sniffing at his currently loading seat. It could hardly have been a more humiliating sight for his former peers to see and even record. Shown as a link in this filthy, pantspooping chain of diapered debauchery. That'd sink any hopes that anyone else was going to try to help him escape this place, escape this role. After the traumatic experience, Rhys had to begin to change his strategy of survival here. The rest of that week, Mark still targeted him, but Rhys became more careful about not setting him off. He dumbed down his own speech and made sure to act the part of 'dumbest student' whenever the bulky bully was nearby. It was the only way to prevent him from trying to teach the 'tardy' another lesson in humility. By the start of the second week in special ed, his own bodily controls were getting more difficult to maintain. He was given nothing but bowel-stimulating food and drink while he was in school, and with no allowance to use the toilets, he was becoming forcibly accustomed to just voiding himself whenever the urge arose. As much as he didn't want to admit it, his toileting abilities were very clearly becoming as poor as the mindless mudbutts that he had to share this room with. That same lack of control followed him home too, where he began to have genuine accidents in his diaper around the house. His mind was still good, but even that he could start to feel some slippage with. Having to act like a brainless pantsfiller in front of Mark all the time was taking its toll, and being surrounded only by actual idiots was beginning to rub off on him in the worst way. The constant poopy fumes and the nonstop orchestra of defecation that filled the classroom wasn't helping either. Being stuck in a filth factory all day was starting to really mess with his head. Especially since he was already treated like he was an idiot by everyone he interacted with. At the rate he was going, it would only be a few months before the typo in his file was no longer a typo. He'd become every bit the drooling, diaper-dumping retard that the algorithm had sorted him to be. His wonderful genius would be snuffed out and replaced by a nose-picking, vacant-eyed idiocy. And when that happened, he would no longer even be able to advocate for himself, instead just living the lie that everyone else had already readily accepted as his twisted reality. He'd spend his days happily soiling his diaper, over and over, while he ate his own boogers and gleefully crawled around like an animal in search of another smelly butt to sniff. He didn't yet want to believe that such a fate was a possibility, but someone as smart as him knew that without action, that was an inevitable path that his life would take. If he didn't figure out an escape soon, then he'd reshape to what everyone already saw him as, and then he'd never leave the indignity of special ed. As he felt a fresh hot log cramming itself into the backside of his diaper, the sticky, solid steamer escaping with minimal input from his own conscious effort, he got a sense for how limited his deadline was. He had maybe another month or two before he was too dumb to formulate and execute a plan. If he didn't, then he'd simply become 'Rhys the Retard' for real and forever.