Tale #141: A Barney Rerun (Part 2)

Tale #141: A Barney Rerun (Part 2) (Part 5 to 'The Barney Baby' storyline!) (Content Tags: Messy diapers, humiliation, role reversal, holiday themed, different era, braindrain, brainwashing, training pants) It wouldn't do it justice to call it a mere setback; not with the size of the dirty deed that Brandon had committed. Accidents weren't completely gone from his life, but it had been some time since he'd dropped a payload like that in his pants, at least during the daytime. It'd been fortunate that he'd already been diapered for bed, or else he'd be tossing a pair of undies in the trash. "Brandon! You need to stay focused, sweetie. Didn't you feel your body telling you to go potty?" His mother had chastised, right in the middle of the living room, with her finger tugging the back of his diaper out to check the damage he'd done. He'd stammered something that equated to a confused apology, but Brandon was completely clueless on how this had transpired. His brain had gotten foggy for a moment, and then the next moment had him being gawked at by his little cousin. There'd been no potty signal to listen for, no pressure in his bowels that needed immediate attention, but he'd ended up in a dumpy diaper all the same. She led him off to get changed, his gait further bowed by the steamy deposit, and the red-faced preteen could feel the judging eyes of his relative on him, on the bulbous lump in his seat, as he toddled past them. The trailing fumes being left behind would be more than enough to ignite a second wave of skepticism, as to whether Brandon was a 'boy boy' again or not. The next morning, after yet another diaper change from the battles of the night, his mother would slide a pair of his 'new' briefs up his scrawny legs. "M-mom! I don't wanna wear these...! I was already nice and tried them on last night. Besides, Kenny is just making fun of me, I know it." The squirmy brat whined. "No one will see them, Brandon. They're going to be covered up. After your accident last night, I think it might be a good idea to have undies with a little more...Oomph, in the back. Don't you think? And don't be silly! Kenny was just being nice; he was very sweet and helped you out, whenever you had your 'condition'." Brandon sat up, feeling the quadruple-seated thickness that the Barney briefs boasted; the backside felt thick enough to practically be training pants! Though that was still not as bad as a daytime diaper, which he supposed his mother could have reached for instead. "B-but...They're...They're like toddler underwear. They're all huge in the butt and they got Barney on them--" "--Sweetie, it's okay that you still like Barney. Your therapist said that it would be perfectly normal for you to still like some..." The woman searched her mind for the right word, since 'babyish' seemed too condescending. "--Things that younger kids usually like. You don't have to grow up all at once, you just need to remember that you're a big boy." She pulled out the back of his briefs and squeezed some powder down the back, the coolness of the talcum sending a shudder throughout his body. "Now get dressed and come have breakfast. We're going to see 'Santa' today at the mall." The mall was a little further than they'd gone prior, whenever they'd been in town to find gifts for their game. It was locally adored for the considerable lengths that the owners went in presenting 'holiday cheer' all throughout the facility. The adults were excited to see all the decorations, while the children would be more interested in the material matters that the mall could provide. For Ralph, he was most excited to see Santa and tell him what he wanted. Being six, he was still the perfect age to believe in Kris Kringle, and he didn't realize yet how demeaning it was to sit in someone's lap like a tot. Kenny was also just barely still in that age range too, but he secretly already knew that Santa was a festive farce. For the older of the children, which would be Brandon and Ralph's older sister Hailey, the time of sitting on Santa's lap was over. Brandon was twelve and Hailey was thirteen, and neither of them had believed in the man for years now. Admittedly though, during his regressive fugue state, Brandon *had* reprised his role as a starry-eyed baby, who was reverent of the 'naughty and nice list'. He had no such plans to demean himself this time though; he honestly hadn't even considered that he might be asked about it. Brandon assumed that he and Hailey would already be considered exempt, if not for age, then just for size, but... Brandon's growth had been stunted, and Hailey was fully entrenched in the middle of puberty; the girl was at least six or seven inches taller than him, and Brandon was still kid-sized. Waiting in that large line, surrounded by snot-nosed toddlers and rugrats, Brandon felt irritated. If Ralph was the only one they were here for, then why did Brandon even have to be here for it? Why couldn't his parents take him around to some stores, or to the food court? He'd already asked about visiting the big arcade that stood as a jewel on the mall's crown, but he'd been brushed off. "Maybe if you're good, okay?" It was aggravating. While waiting in the line, Brandon was witness to an embarrassing scene from one of the little kids in front of him. It was some little ankle-biter that was even younger than Ralph; a freckled kid with blond curls that poked out from his cat-eared beanie. He was fidgeting a lot, and he looked like he might cry. "It's almost your turn, Tucker!" Said a woman next to him. "I changed my mind, mommy! I don't wanna meet Santa, I'm too scared!" She tried to settle him down with some soft words and a pat to the head, but his grievances were hardly actually addressed. His face an anxious tapestry of raw nerves, Tucker continued to squirm, and then-- **Frrrrrt...Plorp!** It wasn't the explosive spectacle that Brandon had spent the last year making, but it was undeniably in the same general category. Tucker's knees had bent slightly, his teary eyes had widened, and the back of his pants had rapidly expanded with something hefty sliding into them. He'd been so nervous about meeting Santa, who to many children was like a god, that he'd pooped himself. It wasn't only Brandon who had seen it, since the other kids in his party were right near him; Ralph had only giggled, and Kenny had turned his head to smile at Brandon, as if to silently insinuate that Brandon was no different from the lumpy-seated crybaby being dragged out of line by his mommy. Ralph tried to get a grip on his laughter, "Hehe, what a *baby!* Who gets so scared of seein' Santa that they dookie their pants? He musta' been real naughty this year, to be that afraid!" Kenny nodded, "Guess so! At least he didn't do that *on* Santa's lap, right? That'd *really* make him a big baby." After a few more minutes, it'd finally be Ralph's turn, and he would excitedly run up to the bearded man in the chair to tell him all the wondrous things he wanted. As he did so, Kenny would turn to his parents, "Can I see Santa too? And I bet Brandon really wants to see him too!" His parents were a little surprised, but not in a bad way. Kenny had matured so much in the last year, that it had come as a shock to hear that he was still interested in the whimsy of something like sitting on Santa's lap. They smiled and nodded, but Brandon stood firmly against it. "You can if you want. I'm too big for that." "No you're not! We're practically the same size!" Kenny playfully argued, knowing full-well that Brandon hadn't meant 'big' in that case. "I mean that it's supposed to be for little kids." "I'm not a little kid!" Kenny's faux outrage was a calculated move, a trap that Brandon had stupidly stumbled right into. "Be nice, Brandon." His father warned, a stern frown forming. "Why don't you go, honey. You won't be small enough to do it anymore soon, and you don't want to end up on the naughty list, do you?" His mother's words carried a blatant subtext to them, the inference being that Brandon's ire was akin to calling this all a sham. If there was one rule to abide about Santa, about knowing the truth of Santa, it was to not corrupt the innocence of a fellow child by telling them he's not real. It may happen on a playground or at a sleepover, where no adult could intervene, but not here in this big family setting. Brandon scowled and just looked down at the ground, too irritated and embarrassed to respond to that. He already knew that his affirmation was unnecessary; he knew that regardless of his answer, there would be unpleasantness. He could still hold to his principles and refuse the shameful experience, but that'd surely mean trouble later. The small silver lining was that nobody would recognize him; they were in a completely different town, on vacation, so he would only feel the humiliation of his family members seeing him be like a child. Well, and Kenny, which was a whole other bag of emotions to unravel. Brandon would watch Kenny go next, once Ralph had happily returned, and he saw the mischievous boy still bearing that obnoxious grin. Near the end of his time on the jolly man's lap, he would whisper something to him, while quickly pointing in Brandon's direction. It didn't look innocent, but Brandon also couldn't decide what Kenny was attempting to do, so he'd be going in blind. Once Kenny came back, he gave Brandon a chipper look: "Your turn! Make sure to ask for everything you want!" Brandon rolled his eyes and wandered past the entry of where the mall had the chair set up. He awkwardly got up on the rotund man's lap, but he was standoffish, and his face was burning with shame. "Ho! Ho! Ho! And what's your name, little boy?" The boy let out a quiet groan, "...Brandon." "And what would you like for Christmas this year, Brandon?" He was quiet for a moment, genuinely unsure what a good answer would be. He didn't want to cause a scene by being rude, and he didn't want to come across as disingenuous as he felt; he needed something that would make the tubby man satisfied, where the line could just be kept moving. Sensing his hesitation, and mistaking it for anxiety, the red-coated man began to hum a very familiar tune. Brandon didn't know it, but that'd been what Kenny had been whispering about; Kenny had been making up lies about his 'special' friend being nervous, and how a certain song from his favorite show would make him feel at ease. The Barney theme song. Something that a mall Santa, if not most adults with children, had heard plenty of times by now. The very melody that would strip Brandon of his dignity, even if just briefly. Brandon could feel his thought freezing over, they were being encased in a prison of fog, where all maturity dribbled out from his neurons. That simple little song was more than enough to break his brain in two, to make it effectively 'two', and a very dim two at that. Drool leaked out the corner of his mouth and his eyes glazed over with a vacant stupor. "...Did you think about what you want Santa to bring you, sport?" Brandon looked confused for a moment, as if unaware how he'd gotten here or what he was doing, but hearing the name 'Santa' was enough to throw him into a fresh mindset. "Santa! I wan'...Ummm...Barney videos!" Yes, precious tapes! New episodes that he could add to his collection! The very thought got him so excited that he felt a little tinkle spurt into the front of his training briefs. The smaller incident was merely a warm-up to something much larger, which became more obvious whenever an extremely bubbly fart suddenly rumbled into his seat. The man was no stranger to such excited outbursts from the kids who came to see him, so he just chuckled and carried on. "I see, and have you been a good boy this year?" "Uh-huh! I learn-ded how'ta go poddy like a big boy." Brandon insisted, only further proving to the jolly man that he was 'special', just as Kenny had said. "Oh! That's very good. I bet your mommy and daddy are very proud." "Uh-huh! I notta baby no more, I--" He suddenly farted again and stopped midsentence. His body and mind were rebelling against his progress. For as far as he'd come in the last several months, his success was fragile; being a big kid was purely contingent on whether or not he was reminded of the purple dinosaur that had stolen a yearbof his life. Brandon's bowels were evacuating, and there wasn't a darn thing he could do about it. The boy could only get a drooly, dopey smile and gleefully allow for nature to take its course. He could feel the mushy mass pushing into his briefs, the warm load filling out every bulky inch of his seat with a sloppy crackling. He was making a major mudpie on Santa's lap, and he had no shame in doing it. It was at the moment of self-defecation that the photographer would get their shot. Santa was no stranger to kids having accidents on his lap, but those kids were usually a lot younger and it was typically a bladder failure. He looked a little surprised at the sudden BM, especially since Brandon had been boasting about his potty prowess only a moment earlier. "Ho! Ho! Ho! I think you still need some practice there, buckaroo; seems like you got some coal back here." The man teased, giving Brandon a gentle bounce on his knee, which smeared the hot poop all throughout the backside of the quadruple-seated briefs. "Maybe Santa needs to bring you some diapers, instead..." Hearing the word 'diaper' was sufficient to break him out of it, at least for the most part. Shards of reality pierced his veil of delusion, where he could remember how old he was supposed to be, and that he wasn't supposed to be pooping in his pants anymore. The recognition came far too late, now that he had a pound of muck being hauled around. His eyes lost their glassy shimmer and Brandon blinked, as if waking from a strange dream. "Now, why don't you go let your mommy know that you need a change, okay?" Patient as he might be, the man dressed as Santa was starting to smell what Brandon did, and he was a little nervous that something might seep through, since it didn't sound like the boy was wearing an actual diaper. Santa helped Brandon down onto the ground, his legs bowed from the cargo he was carrying. The only fortunate part was that nobody in his party had heard what either Brandon or Santa had been saying, so nobody was yet aware that he'd crapped himself or that he'd slipped back into being a Barney baby for that moment. The boy awkwardly toddled back to the group, trying desperately to walk as if everything was normal. Kenny was watching him carefully, with an expression that suggested he already knew exactly what had happened. "Did you ask Santa for everything you wanted?" The younger boy asked with a bit of a haughty sneer. "...Y-yeah...Can we go now?" Brandon replied meekly, his eyes looking at the floor. Hailey's nose wrinkled within moments of Brandon returning. His training briefs were excellent at containing poopies, but not at all at blocking the smell that came with them. "Something stinks!" Ralph gave a dramatic sniff to the air and nodded, "Uh-huh! Smells like POO!" Brandon's parents looked down at the boy, and his mother sighed, "Baby, did you have an accident in your pants?" "...No." Not a very convincing lie, and his heart was hardly in it to start. It wasn't going to fool anyone. His father pulled back the waistband of his pants, right there in the line, "Brandon! Again? At this rate, you'll have to start wearing diapers again full-time!" "It's a good thing Kenny gave you these undies." His mother added, looking exasperated at the resurgence of daytime accidents. "That's strike two, Brandon. Don't let it become three." His father warned, taking him by the hand and beginning to walk him toward the boy's room. If Kenny were to get his way, then strike three would be an inevitability. He'd be going back to diapers, and very soon