Story #175: Thanksgiving Tales

Story #175: Thanksgiving Tales (Content Tags: Messy diapers, humiliation, accidents, intentional soiling, slice-of-life, mild absurdity, chubby protagonist) Stuffed: Paul's favorite holidays were always the food-centric ones. Without mincing words, Paul was someone who deeply enjoyed eating, and he was terrible at moderating his own intake. To others, the words used would probably be along the lines of: fat slob, total pig, and glutton. The most important holiday to him was the one where food was most celebrated, the one where overconsumption was actually encouraged: Thanksgiving. Mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, yams, rolls, deviled eggs, turkey and gravy... It was a beautiful sight to behold, and he always went back for seconds, thirds, and fourths. Last year had been a tipping point of sorts for him though, because he'd gone beyond simply having to unbuckle his pants. At the previous Thanksgiving, the boy had pushed himself to such an unwieldy limit that he'd actually lost control of himself and pooped his nice slacks at the dinner table. It'd been a humiliating experience, but not one that he'd learned much from. He still didn't moderate himself the way he should, and he still hadn't figured out that soiling himself was his body's way of telling him that he'd taken his gourmet gorging too far. He was right on track to have a repeat performance. Which his aunt, who was hosting, had prepared for. She was a no-nonsense woman that found his behavior and appearance to be appalling, and she wasn't about to risk her nice furniture or rug being soiled by his juvenile ineptitude at eating a normal amount. The most obvious solution, at least to her, was to both protect her furniture and to thoroughly humiliate her nephew for his piggish behavior. Diapers. Big ones, too. The woman had actually gone out and bought a pack; she'd had to search for just the right kind to both fit Paul's husky frame and that were rated high for heavy soiling. The result was a very cumbersome brand that would be nearly impossible for him to have a blowout in. It had been her caveat for Paul to eat as much as he liked. She gave him the option to limit himself to a portion that she made for him, but his gluttony refused to be bound, so he shamefully selected to wear the diaper. He got taped into the garment and was given a heavy powdering; he quickly found out once it was on him, that it was too big for his pants to fit back over, so he'd have to go without anything to cover the crinkly thing up. To add to the mortifying image, a bib was tied around his neck, since he was too much of a slob to be expected to keep his shirt clean during the meal. His cousins obviously teased him in the lead up to lunch, and he didn't have any ammunition to use against them in retaliation; even his youngest cousin had left training pants behind in the last year, so Paul stood alone as the 'big fat baby' of the family. Whenever Paul started to smell all the food being prepared though, he forgot his woes in favor of imagining how delicious the meal would be, even if he had to wear a diaper while eating it. He was at least adamant with himself that he'd prove he didn't need the diaper by keeping himself from having a repeat of last year, but the reality of the matter was a little less certain; he simply couldn't help himself from going overboard, so an accident was almost inevitable. Whenever it was time to eat, he waddled his way to the dining room and carefully plopped his plump padded rump into a chair. His mouth was positively watering at the delicious looking banquet that'd been presented across the table, and he immediately forgot his convictions about moderating just enough to prevent a soiling. By his third plate, he was starting to feel some major cramps forming in his lower gut, but he was too focused on eating to pay the warning signs any mind. Instead, he started to let little farts out into the thick backside of his diaper, which regulated the pressure in his bowels and allowed him to keep stuffing his face. His bib quickly became covered like a Pollock painting in all the various food groups that he was gorging on, and his extended family was less than impressed that his slobbish behavior hadn't seen any improvement over the last year. By the middle of his fourth plate, the feeling in his gut had reached a critical point, and he knew he should leave afterwards to go take care of his business in the bathroom. But as he finished the food on his plate, when everyone else had already been mostly finished, his aunt had unveiled dessert. He couldn't leave now! He got a slice of each pie, drowned the plate in whipped cream, and forced the feeling of fullness away. There always had to be room for dessert after all! But...There wasn't. He'd filled up so utterly on lunch, that it felt impossible to have room for anything else. The delectable flavors of dessert would go unknown unless he could make room right now; if he waited until later, then the pie wouldn't still be hot! And so he had to make a repulsive decision. Instead of doing his best to keep a repeat performance from happening, he was going to lean into this punishment and use the diaper to his advantage. His gluttony overcome his sense of pride. Paul leaned to one side in his chair and pushed. It didn't take very much, not with how full he'd become, and poop began to *explode* into the back of the diaper like a mortar shell. It just kept coming and coming, until he could feel that it was creeping into the front of the padded garment as well. Warm, squishy mush that coated his rump completely. It was vile, in a way, but it also did as he wanted, which was to make room for the plate of sweets in front of him. With a satisfied smile, he went on to eat the plate of pie with what was easily two pounds of droppings underneath him. The shame would catch up with him after he finished eating, but that was a problem for the future. For now, it was another Thanksgiving where he was stuffed, and the second where he'd finish with a stuffed seat as well. Bleak Friday: Standing in line for hours on end had never been something that Teagan was interested in doing, but there was a first time for everything. Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving that had become the date known by consumers as the day of deals; it was this day where shoppers would come out from every nook and cranny to buy their goods at seemingly slashed prices. Teagan had balked at the idea most years, since he was old enough to understand the point; who would want to suffer such discomfort to save a few bucks? But then things changed whenever the deal in question was something that he'd been desperately saving up for: the newest gaming console. With all the allowances and birthday money that he'd been saving up, he was still a ways off from being able to purchase the system in its cheapest package; he had been resigned to being stuck with an old console for another six months or so. That is, until he saw a promotion from a nearby store about selling off a small inventory of the consoles at a fraction of their usual cost; first come, first serve. That was when Teagan understood the spirit of Black Friday. That was when he realized there was reason to stand in line for hours and hours, just to get something for a bit cheaper. He decided to go with his older sister, who herself was trying to get a limited deal on a laptop; the plan was that they would head over right after Thanksgiving dinner and spend the night outside in line. The store opened around six in the morning, so it'd be around ten hours of waiting; they would bring folding chairs and a small cooler with them, and they would bundle up to keep warm. There was one major problem though, a hitch in the wagon: Teagan wasn't the most reliable at 'holding it' for more than a couple of hours. There was a nearby convenience store, but that would close around midnight, which would mean that there'd be no bathroom around for miles. His sister was like a camel, but Teagan wouldn't be able to last six hours without a potty break, and leaving at all would jeopardize his spot in the line. It was quite the pickle. The boy couldn't very well just pee out in public, and he definitely couldn't drop trou either. The inevitable result would be an accident, which wouldn't be safe or hygienic to spend hours out in the cold like. Thus, his sister had made a recommendation that turned his head. She suggested that the boy swallow his pride and wear a diaper. It'd been a hard sell. Teagan was at an age where he was self-conscious about how he was perceived, especially in terms of his maturity, and to agree to be diapered was to agree to let that backslide. He'd only stopped wetting the bed a few years ago, and she wasn't even suggesting Pull-Ups like he wore then, but actual diapers. He'd been ready to write the whole idea off and to just keep saving up his money, but then one of his friends bragged that he'd gotten one of the new consoles for his birthday, and his gushing over playing on it was enough to reignite the fire in Teagan's heart. So he agreed to the idea and he accompanied his sister in seeking out just the right 'product' for the marathon ahead. He ended up signing off on something exceptionally thick, that boasted a superior capacity to the other brands; his sister had explained to him that there probably wouldn't be any opportunity to change while waiting in line, so he needed something that could hold anything he would throw at it for the whole ten hour stretch. The diapers were a little expensive, being so high-quality, and the smallest pack was a count of thirty-two. From his calculations though, he would still have enough for the discounted console, with a little extra for snacks. It would seem wasteful to toss the rest of the diapers away, but there wasn't much way around it. Shortly after they finished Thanksgiving dinner, Teagan went upstairs to get ready. He enlisted his sister's help to get the diaper on, and he made sure to be heavily powdered for the long night ahead; he then threw on some sweatpants and a jacket to keep warm in the cool autumn air. It was a lot harder to walk than he had expected, at least without making it look obvious that he was wearing a diaper under his pants. Luckily for him, his sister would be driving them over to the store, so he'd only have to toddle to the entrance. Whenever they arrived, they could see the line had already started. They would end up being fifth in line, and that line only grew longer as they set up their chairs and plopped down. As the night went on, Teagan would busy himself by playing on his Gameboy or texting with his friends, but he would eventually have the soda he was drinking catch up with him. He'd held on as long as he could, but it wasn't even midnight yet and he knew he couldn't hold it until morning. So he closed his eyes and peed his pants. The warmth was surprisingly pleasant, since it was chilly outside, and he could feel the diaper quickly wicking it away to keep him dry, which just left the swollen material hot and squishy. He would wet the diaper a couple of more times after that in the oncoming hours, but it held up shockingly well against his super-soaking assault. Finally, as dawn was breaking, it came time for the store to open. For Teagan, it couldn't have come soon enough, because he was starting to feel some major grumbling in his bowels from the enormous dinner the night before. He'd been okay enough with wetting the diaper, but he had no plans to take any dumps in it, so things needed to move fast. The store only let in a few patrons at a time, and luckily Teagen was in that first group. Him and his sister headed inside with the other lucky few and the worker explained that they would only have about ten minutes to locate their deal and head to checkout. That was fine by Teagan, who was struggling to walk normally with such a saturated pair of babypants. Him and his sister headed toward the electronics section and got what they'd come for, before heading back toward the checkout area. His sister went first and got her laptop, and then Teagen put his console on the conveyor belt and fished the money out of his pocket. That was when he realized that he hadn't accounted for the sales tax. He was off, by just about the amount that he'd spent on the diapers. The shock was so devastating that he just stared at the insufficient funds in his hands and he lost the battle with his bowels. A titanic turd crashed into the back of his soggy diaper with the force of a meteor, and he just stood there slackjaw as it happened. It was as if he was pushing out all the excitement and anticipation that he'd been full of for the last ten hours, and it was piling up in his seat as disappointment. He turned to his sister and pleaded to borrow money; when she hesitated, he even blamed her and said that *she* should have paid for the diapers! It *had* been her idea after all! Annoyed and wrinkling her nose at what she was starting to smell wafting off her little brother, the girl agreed, but with the condition that her retroactive purchase not be be wasted. So Teagan waddled out of the store with his console, a very full diaper, and the knowledge that he'd be using the rest of that pack throughout the following month. The Kiddy Table: Most kids can't wait to get away from the humiliation of the 'kiddy table' at Thanksgiving; that was the smaller, less regal table where all the snot-nosed brats and fussy tykes got seated for their meal. It meant to be surrounded by diaper-dumpers, nose-pickers, and crybabies. It was messy, it was chaotic, and it was sometimes smelly. Still, Marshall found it preferable to the alternative. Marshall was a fidgety, socially anxious kid that was terrified of the social obligations that the 'adult table' required; he was a messy eater and he had little to no ability to carry conversations with adults or older kids. He'd turned eight earlier in the year, and he'd been told that he'd no longer be sitting with the 'little kids' when it came time for Thanksgiving or Christmas. Plenty of kids would have been buoyed to hear such news and to reach such a milestone, but the thought of sitting at that big table, having to carry a complex conversation with people so much bigger than him, filled him with an existential dread. At the kiddy table, he might have to suffer inane babbling about Barney or Bluey, and he might have to literally sit next to someone with dookie in their pants, but there was a true freedom in it. There were no expectations of how he'd behave, or how neatly he was eating, or even how long he had to sit at the table! Getting excused from the adult table would be met with scrutiny over being rude, but nobody would bat an eye if a rambunctious tyke drifted from their seat at the baby table. The most order that existed for the little ones was that his older cousin would 'supervise' to make sure nobody was choking or getting into something they shouldn't. His first thought had been to request that job, but that carried some problems. Besides the fact that he was too timid to act as any kind of 'leader', he would also somehow have to convince his cousin that she should relinquish the role, and she cared too much for the power to do so. He'd casually asked about staying at the kiddy table a couple of months previously, but the notion had quickly been shot down as 'silly', and the subtext had obviously been to drop it. Now it was the week before Thanksgiving, and he was running out of time to find a solution for this dire problem of his. It was his younger brother, Milton, that had actually given him the idea that he'd ended up going with. Milton was about three, and he'd been starting the tedious process of pottytraining, which had meant a move to some Mickey Mouse Pull-Ups. He'd gotten caught behind the couch, dropping a major deuce in them and he'd been chastised about being a 'baby'. During that lecture, Marshall had been sitting on the couch and watching cartoons. He'd heard his name get dropped with the line: "Don't you want to be a big boy like Marshall? He gets to sit at the grownup table this year, but you never will if you can't stop going potty in your pants!" It was extreme, but extreme was just about all that Marshall had left to try. With only a week left until Thanksgiving, he started to have 'accidents' in his pants every day. Starting with peeing himself, until he felt confident enough to poop in his underpants too, a couple of days in. That'd actually been a big moment, and not in a good way; Marshall had been getting berated a lot over wetting himself multiple times, and to seal the deal, he'd pinched a large loaf in his briefs at the dinner table. The first one to be blamed was Milton, but his innocence was proven quickly after, and Marshall was found to be the culprit. In a bit of irony, Marshall was made to wear his baby brother's diapers, now that Milton was progressing to Pull-Ups. Marshall was also grounded and in more hot water than he'd bargained for, but he was at least informed that he would *not* be joining the rank of big kid this year at Thanksgiving. Instead, on that day, Marshall and his little brother would be sitting next to one another, just like last year. Except this time, Marshall was wearing little more than his lent Huggies, a shirt he'd made in class with a hand turkey on it, and an awkward smile. His brother wasn't much better, but he could at least boast that his own exposed undergarment was for big boys. Aside from the obvious teasing that he'd already anticipated, and all the grief he'd gotten from his parents, he was actually pretty satisfied with the end-result. He could feel childish freedom exuding from every pore, and he channeled it to eat as sloppily as he wanted and to giggle along with every immature joke that his younger cousins told. He felt so free that he even made use of his diaper mid-meal, as if to definitively prove that it wasn't just a costume piece to punish him. He was in good company though, as he wasn't the only one in stinky pants by the end of the meal. But would today be the end of his little scheme? Christmas was right around the corner, and Easter wasn't too far off from that! Marshall might have to delay his induction to the adult table for months and months to come...