Tale #110: Lesson the Load 2

Ben was lost in his own bowel movement. It was such a tremendous undertaking that it captured the whole of his thoughts, and most of those thoughts were devoted to doing whatever he could to relieve the pressure in his lower gut. The leviathan continued to surge, and finally his pants had tented out by such a measure that they slipped down under the weight; it was only by a few inches, but that was enough to reveal the puffy garment he wore underneath. "Mister Ryder is wearing a DIAPER!!" "He's POOPING in a diaper!" "Like a big baby..." Everyone had something to say, and Ben could feel his credibility dipping lower than the bulging seat of his dirty diaper. He'd already had concerns about respectability, and this was making all those concerns significantly worse. Another big bubble of pressure ached within and he felt compelled to squat down, his stool-packed seat nearly smooshing against the floor with how far it bulged. He pushed, red-faced and sweating, and a gurgling fart bellowed throughout the diaper, bringing with it the final impact of the massive turd getting pinched off and plopping very heavily with its full weight. A few toots came as an aftershock, with some more muck trailing behind, but the show was ultimately over. The kids were laughing, Ben felt tears welling up in his eyes, and whatever lesson he had hoped to teach was effectively over. He'd taught the three types of matter, in a very gross and personal way, and he didn't think anyone would soon forget them. Mercifully, since he otherwise would have no way to settle the class down, the lunch bell finally rang. Ben shakily got back to his feet, his legs bowed far out by the dump in his pants, and he couldn't turn to make eye contact. "G-go to lunch! W-we'll pick this up later!" The students obliged his demand, but he knew that his potty failure would be the primary discussion at the lunch tables. Why wouldn't it be? News of his diaper and of his soiling would reach all throughout the school by the end of the day! When the last giggling boy or girl had exited the classroom, Ben finally let the tears of shame streak down his rosy cheeks. He'd never been so humiliated in his entire life, not even when he'd had potty accidents as a student himself! And now what was the plan? Was he to wait on the same colleague that had diapered him in the first place? She had mentioned coming to check him during the lunch period. "How did it feel to get put back in a diaper for school?" There was that voice again. A voice that could only belong to the inhuman child that had been stalking the halls of this elementary school. Only ever speaking in questions, never with a sense of normalcy or even humanity. It was a voice that he had very quickly come to dread hearing, because he knew that with it would come terrible changes. "I was embarrassed. I was already behind everyone else, since I wore Pull-Ups, and being put back in a diaper made me feel like I was still just a baby...Not a big boy." It was a train of thought that was continued on from the previous questions he'd been asked. That time in Kindergarten had been a tough time for him, and it had haunted his school experience for years after. "When was the most embarrassing time you pooped your pants outside of school?" The creature had already delighted in his tale of French class during sixth grade, and of pooping the bed at his Aunt's house when he was ten. It was time for a new chronicle of befouling, and his mind immediately zipped to the perfect one. "W-when I was eight, I went to my neighbor's birthday party. I kept eating more and more cake, and I think something in the frosting made my tummy upset, and I--" The classroom around him dissolved, and instead, he found himself warped back to the very memory he'd been forced to narrate. He was in Pull-Ups for the party. That wasn't something he originally would have remembered, but he'd dipped in and out of training pants a few times after Kindergarten. His toileting problems hadn't really ever fully resolved, just been minimized, but they were still fairly prevalent before the age of ten. He'd be in undies for months at a time, and then he'd have a string of accidents and get punished with daytime Pull-Ups for a few weeks. It was a humiliating cycle that was pretty much gone by the time he was ten, except for an outlier case or two. But in this memory, his hands and mouth were smeared with cake frosting, and his gut was gurgling like a coffee pot. He was in line to hit the pinata, and he didn't want to break away to take care of his business. A few farts were easy enough to get away with; his trainers dampened the noise and the outdoors dissipated the smell. One fart went too far though. It was a really wet one, and midway through it, Ben had realized that something else was on the other side. He'd exploded' in the back of his Pull-Up with such a copious, mushy mess, that his shorts had been ruined too. There were literal toddlers at the party who had managed to stay clean all throughout, and yet Ben had been the one to get escorted away with brown-marred thighs. He had been teased about it for a long time; unsurprisingly so, and relentlessly for a time. His pooed pants had been the talk of the culdesac, and his little brother had been more than willing to talk about how the older boy was still stuck at the Pull-Up level as a whole. Shame built around his potty failures had defined his whole childhood, when he was able to stop and evaluate it. When Ben came back to reality, or what was at least passing for reality, he saw the mysterious boy had gotten closer and was hungrily licking his lips. He had little conception of who or rather what the boy was, and he wouldn't be given enough time to really figure it out either. Some victims were snacked on for a long period, but the beast in front of him wasn't looking for a snack. Instead of drawing this out for months, where a predator may nibble here or there, the boy intended to gobble him up whole and pick the plate. It gave Ben no chance to escape his fate, but it would also be a mercifully quick end to his suffering. The questions stopped having any real pauses. "When did you stop playing with baby toys?" "When did you stop watching preschool cartoons?" "Why were you almost held back in second grade?" "When was the last time you pooped the bed?" "When did you stop wearing real diapers to bed?" "Why did you make pottytraining so difficult?" Each question was like another bite, and just like a plate of food being heartily enjoyed, his form was reducing. Eight, seven, six, five... He was far beneath his students by this point, and his head felt so much less full now too. "Stoppit! No more quessions!" He lisped, trying to put his hands over his ears. Ben was a Kindergartner again, with his loaded Huggies on full display. They were fuller than what was truly possible for a normal diaper, like he had a beanbag chair for underwear. The boy could hardly stand up straight with his legs so bowed out from the mushy material. He'd continued to poop his pants with every question that he was asked, even when the question hadn't involved that as part of a memory. It felt almost like he was expelling the future he had built into his diaper. "When were you too dumb to use a toilet at all?" A simple inquiry, and one that could really be asked of anyone. No one was born with the wit to operate something as complex as a toilet; it took brain development and coordination control to reach such a point. He himself hadn't understood the mechanism of it until he was past the age of three, and even then, that knowledge had been useless. Ben was a toddler now. His work clothes having shrunk down with him and having become more infantile in the process. It looked more like a cute outfit to put your baby in, rather than the professional wardrobe of an educator. He found his thumb going into his mouth for comfort. His thoughts had slowed completely, like his neurons were suspended in molasses, and he was mindlessly letting toot after toot slip out into his poopy diaper. "S'posta be big boy...Gotta teach...Gotta...Mmph...Gotta p-pooopy!" His wit had been scraped clean. The boy was still asking questions, but Ben could hardly summon the intellect required to understand them. No, the creature might be picking the bones, but Ben was no longer helpful in assisting his own demise. The teacher was an empty-headed tot, who was drooling over his thumb and squinting an eye shut every time he felt compelled to further befoul him immensely loaded diaper. He soon fell onto his butt with a giant squish as he sunk in, no longer able to hold himself up. The room began to shift. The beast had waited as long as possible before see starting to eat the infrastructure of Ben's existence. His career got gobbled up too, and the classroom became more like the nursery of a daycare. He wouldn't be sculpting young minds any longer, and not even his own would ever develop any further. The beast hadn't just devoured his future, but he'd been so thorough that Ben couldn't ever progress to a future. He'd eternally live his life in a blissfully ignorant loop of soiling his diapers and taking naps. An eternal toddler with nary a complex thought in his head. No anxiety or doubt, just the joy of a mushy butt. There was no more to eat. Not without risking making Ben disappear altogether. No memories could be found past this dimwitted age anyways. "My, my! I think someone is very stinky!" A daycare worker chirped, seeing Ben sitting there with his onesie popped open by the massive dirty diaper. He giggled and babbled behind his drool-soaked thumb, seemingly unaware that the mysterious boy had just completely disappeared, taking his future in its gullet. "Let's get you changed before your brother comes to pick you up, okay?" No more anxiety, no more stress, no more doubt. Just dirty diapers and drooly chins.