Tale #2: Empathy and Lack Of (Illustration)

Tale #2: Empathy and Lack Of "Don't think I don't understand the hypocrisy of it. I know that I'm being one, I just don't care. I'm sure that grownups feel the same way about me, that they think I should just stay in my lane. Difference is that they can't do anything about it, at least not in the same way that I'm planning on fixing the problem." Dylan Wainwright, by all accounts, was a child prodigy; only ten years old and registered as a genius level intellect. The special academy that he attended was already a hotbed of high IQ levels, but his own score was among the highest, much to the resentment of some of his older classmates. He'd enrolled a year ago, when he was nine, and had been put in a class of kids that were several years older; at the time, he was the youngest student at the school by a couple of years, and his presence caused quite a stir in the student body. At an academy full of geniuses, there was a brutally competitive nature in play. For Dylan to show up with such high scores, at such a pitiful age, it put a target on his back from envious peers. Dylan had dealt with all manners of hazing and razzing from his peers, but he'd persevered all throughout. There had been humiliation, but he'd paid it back with interest with how much better his test scores were. In due time, the harassment eventually slowed and eventually stopped, once it became clear that he wasn't going to be leaving. The resentment was still thick in the air of his classes, but it wasn't like Dylan was here to make friends. Once he had finally found his footing and had begun to truly excel, that is when he'd be forced to relive the whole process, just from the other side of it. It happened in the second semester, right at the beginning, there was a new student enrolling. Sammy. It was a cruel mirror for Dylan to have to peek into; much like Dylan had been much younger than the rest of his classmates, Sammy was much younger than him. The little brat wasn't even five quite yet, and he'd already surpassed Dylan's IQ rating, albeit by a fairly small measure. Dylan had never felt so humiliated by anything in his life, than to have this prodigal preschooler showing him up while still looking like he should be mastering the toilet. To make matters more complicated, Sammy didn't get the same tumultuous entrance that Dylan had been forced to weather. Being so small and cute, the older classmates just didn't seem to have the heart or the hate to bully him in the same way. It probably helped that Sammy didn't have the same ego that Dylan did, or rather, he didn't flaunt it out in such a brazen way. Dylan couldn't stand it, and it really didn't help that the school had bunked him with the twerp as a roommate. The genius had to slowly stew in his own spite over the course of the semester, his scornful thoughts growing by the day. Why couldn't Sammy just act like a normal little preschooler? Why didn't he know his place? He didn't belong here! Dylan could finally understand the way that his classmates had felt about him, or how most adults thought of him. He wasn't content with simply bullying Sammy until the boy went crybaby and quit; no, that wouldn't properly solve the problem. It was petty, but while Dylan was embarrassed by Sammy's presence, getting rid of him wouldn't fix what else vexed him, that Sammy was the child genius now. With Sammy both younger and smarter than him, he felt completely overshadowed. He'd never get the recognition that he deserved! It was time to get to work on a solution... ...And a solution was exactly what had led everything to this: Sammy wearing a funky looking helmet on his head and looking like he was unable to move, while Dylan was carefully arranging some suspect supplies on his desk. "It'll be better this way, trust me. You'll be able to focus on dumb little kid stuff like blowing bubbles or splashin' in the mud. No more of all this complicated science and math stuff... Don't you think?" Sammy remained silent, just sitting on his bed with an expression that seemed torn between anger and fear. "...Oh, you can respond. Sorry about that." The helmet gave a soft beep in response to the permission, and the younger boy was able to open his mouth. "..N-no! I don't wanna be a dummy like those other kids! I'm gonna tell on you for this, and you're gonna get in a lotta trouble! They'll kick you out!" Dylan turned his neck to look over at his apparent captive. "You won't really be in a position to do that, squirt. You're not gonna be all that good at talking, or concentrating...Or thinking for that matter." He started to open something and Sammy could hear the tearing of plastic. "That helmet does more than just give me control over you, that part was just to make things easier. The real purpose of it is to give me access to modifying your mind." Sammy squinted, trying to see what Dylan was doing at the desk, but the boy's body shielded whatever was happening. "Just because you're all jealous about me bein' smarter than you?! You're gonna make me act like a little kid?" Dylan finally turned, and Sammy could see he was holding some white rectangle that was covered in infantile designs. "Best way to fix jealousy is to take away whatever is makin' you jealous. Also, acting your age is only part of it...Let's just say you're not gonna be the sharpest tool in the shed." The older boy approached and gestured for Sammy to lay down, which he had no choice but to obey. He put the diaper next to the younger boy, as well as some changing supplies. "This helmet isn't exactly perfect, so I'm gonna probably fry you a little past the point I'm aiming for...I'm pretty sure that this is a good precaution to take, so I don't have to deal with you making a mess anywhere afterwards." Sammy's further arguments were ignored as Dylan struggled to get him properly changed into the pair of Pampers; he may have been a genius, but he wasn't exactly a skilled babysitter. Finally, sloppy as it may be, the younger of the two was now snugly taped into the cumbersome babypants. "There we go...Lil' Sammy is happy in his fresh didee, isn't he?" Dylan cooed condescendingly, sitting the boy back up and offering a firm pat to the back of the nursery-printed garment. "I'll find a way outta this! You already know that I'm smarter than you, so you gotta know that--" Dylan pushed a button on the side of the helmet while Sammy was right in the middle of his rant, and the gadget whirred to life with light and sound. Sammy's whole diatribe had been cut off and his eyes widened, as if he'd been put into a state of being completely stupefied. "Not anymore, Sammy. This helmet might as well be a giant blender for those big boy thoughts of yours. Your brain won't look physically any different on any scan, but your IQ is gonna see a real big kablooie." Sammy's eyes began to lose focus, and a small streak of drool was beginning to stream out from his slackened jaw. Just as Dylan had promised, his mental capacity was being broken down into a more natural set of parameters for his age, though on the 'slow' side. After a few more moments, the helmet began to cease its function, slowing to a halt. Sammy let out a quiet, dazed groan. "I'll have to think of a good story for what happened. Maybe something about you just crackin' under the pressure? What do you think? Any ideas?" Sammy stared blankly at Dylan for a moment, as if his mutilated mind needed time to reboot from the rewrite it'd just been issued. There was suddenly a muffled burst of gas that came from beneath him, ripping and sputtering wetly into the bulwark of his bulky diaper. "I...I gotta poopie." Dylan smiled and ruffled Sammy's hair, before giving a couple of pats to the boy's emptied head. "Sure sounds like it, mister. You think you can still use the potty, or...?" Sammy squinted an eye shut and leaned forward on the bed, beginning to continue the rude eruption in his diaper, which culminated in something that sounded suspiciously squishy and hefty. Dylan clicked his tongue, having been well aware that this might happen; it was impossible to be fully accurate with how much intellect that the helmet would destroy, and while he'd been aiming for 'preschooler', it looked like he'd probably gotten closer to 'toddler' in some regards. He offered a shrug, finding little meaning in the distinction of the two; either way, Sammy wouldn't be staying at the academy as his shameful rival. Dylan wrinkled his nose, feeling especially happy about that, considering what kind of roommate he would now be. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and peeked around his back to check the damage. There was a rather large bulge in the back of the diaper, and while he examined it with a juvenile curiosity, he could hear a dull hissing coming from the front. "You weren't kiddin'...Ya little stink-pot. You did have to make a poopie, and it was a real big one." He reached down and gave the warm lump a gentle squeeze, feeling the mass flatten and squelch under his grip. "That's okay though. This might make it easier to lie about what's goin' on." Dylan reeled back, catching a glimpse of the pale yellow staining that had marred the swollen front of the diaper. "I'll just clean up in here, so there's no evidence of what happened, and then we can get you taken down to the nurse and out of my life forever." He lifted the helmet off of Sammy and began to stuff it in a box to hide in the closet. Meanwhile, the baby-brained former genius was giggling and scooting back and forth on his mushy pile, finding it hilarious how squishy his diaper was. Dylan felt a surge of pride at his handiwork, but with it came an underlying anxiety: considering the motive at play, this could have very easily been him in Sammy's position, from one of the older geniuses that found his existence troubling. Dylan gulped, glancing briefly out the window in his newfound paranoia. It seemed like his classmates had come to tolerate him, but how long would it be until he was the one taking a dump in a diaper and laughing like a loon? He had come to understand their resentment and their envy, and he had come to know how it could be remedied, so they must know the same. While Sammy was now a blissful tot, Dylan now knew a little too much, and he felt fear. How long until a classmate could no longer suffer him and his precocious prodigy?