Story #138: Dummy's Day Out (Part 1)

Story #138: Dummy's Day Out (Part 1) (The second chapter to 'Daddy's Diapered Dummy') (Content Tags: Adult with dwarfism, mistaken for being younger, brain damage, messy diapers, humiliation, bullying, light sexual reference, inferences to scat, ongoing storyline) "What a sweet little boy you have there." The old crone swooned, reaching down to give him a pat on the head. "Do you like your ice cream cone? Is it so yummy in your tummy?" She cooed. Just as Daddy had promised, they had stopped on the way home to pick up ice cream. Stewie had gotten two big scoops of chocolate, and lactose intolerance be damned, he was enjoying them. It'd make for some devastating diarrhea later, explosive even, but Stewie couldn't think that far ahead anymore. Besides, if the cramping struck during naptime, then he'd be happy for the massive mudslide. So he was standing outside the ice cream shop with his cone, while his daddy had gotten into a conversation with an older woman who'd stop to chat. It was a somewhat small town, so people felt comfortable to strike conversations with complete strangers, as it was likely they might see them again. Stewie's mouth was already completely coated in chocolate after only a couple of minutes with his cone; his hands were getting dirtied with it too. Hell, the back of his tights were covered in chocolate handprints and smears now too, since he'd carelessly reached behind himself to try itching his butt through all the layers. If the ice cream cone wasn't currently in his hand, it'd definitely suggest something a lot less innocent or wholesome. "Yuh-huh...Yummy..." He vacantly agreed, while sloppily eating more of it. "How old is he?" The woman smiled, turning her attention back to Justin. "Eleven, at least physically. Mentally, I'd say he's more like... Twenty-seven months?" Justin was being cheeky with that second number, though Stewie was totally oblivious. Even if Stewie knew he was an adult, his brain was far too damaged for a number as big as twenty-seven to have any meaning to him. It was the true number of years he'd been on this planet, but odds were low that anyone would ever know that again. "Oh, I see. I suppose that explains his puffy tushy." The woman said, having recognized the diaper outline in the tights immediately. "Yeah, he's a real stinker. He probably won't be using the potty for a long time, if ever." Pottytraining was a little too far beyond Stewie at this point. If it'd been focused on immediately after his devolution, then perhaps he could have simply been accident-prone, but after all this time of his brain getting even less refined, it just wasn't feasible for his intelligence level. Not that either him or Justin were really complaining about that; Stewie was so stupid that he loved his own poop, and it was only fitting in Justin's eyes that the little retard go around shitting his pants. As if to emphasize that point, a gross, wet bubbling fart suddenly sputtered into the bulky diaper. It was muffled by the thick padding, but still audible and undeniable. Stewie paid it no mind, just continuing to messily eat his ice cream cone. His love for sweets had really been amplified by his IQ loss, and the consequences showed on both his pudgy belly and his worsening teeth. "Sounds like he may be making you a present." The woman teased. "I think it's just gas. He just had a poopy diaper at the park, though I guess it wouldn't surprise me if he was having another one so soon." His daddy was half-right. It hadn't just been gas, but it also hadn't been a full soiling. The burbling fart had brought with it just enough to stain the inside of his fresh diaper and to be felt between his cheeks. Mindlessly, he shifted his stance and roughly tried to scratch his butt again through all the layers, which just got more chocolate all over his blue tights. Pretending to be the doting father, Justin reached down and pulled out his waistband to peek inside. "No, just gas. For now, anyways. I better get him home though, I only brought one change in the diaper bag and he's wearing it." Stewie finished his cone and smiled blissfully at the sugar now seeping throughout his system. Justin gave the old woman a wave and ushered the mushbrained man back to the car; noticing the chocolate stains all over the back of the tights, he temporarily relieved Stewie of them and strapped the boy into his carseat in just his onesie. "Chalk-oh-lit wuz yummy, daddy." The moron happily stated, with drool already starting to dribble from his lips again. Regardless of how he felt about Justin's cruel betrayal or the mockery that his form had been left as, he couldn't ignore the primal feelings that made up so much of his thought process now. Chocolate ice cream was delicious and that was a more important note in his mind than the fact that he was being forced to live a life that wasn't his own. The same happened with his diapers and messes he kept making in them; none of his fury or resentment could overpower the sheer euphoria of having shit-caked buttcheeks stewing in a loaded diaper, especially when his mentally addled state turned it into such a carnal affair. Stewie might remember being Stuart, and he might remember why he should see this as a living hell, but his brain was just too mushy now to process that in any productive way. "Yeah? Well, looks like you got more of it on you than in you." Justin chuckled as he got into the driver's seat. "How about we run a couple of errands and then get you fed and down for a nice afternoon nap, hm?" The larger man wasn't looking for an actual response to that, which was good, because Stewie had already changed his focus to sucking and drooling on his stained fingers. The car got moving again and they'd soon be arriving at their first destination, which fortunately was just the drive through lane at the bank. "You're such a good little boy, Stewie. You're still making daddy so much money!" Justin chirped as he made a withdrawal from his fat account. The cure that they had both had a hand in creating, or rather, the one that Stuart had mostly created, had insured that Justin could live comfortably from now on. While niche, the research notes alone would have been worth tens of millions; Justin had bargained with their employer to be paid a lump sum and then monthly residuals, and then he'd quit and disappeared. The uncomfortable truth was that if he had stayed or tried to be more involved with the project after its conclusion, then people would have caught on how little Justin was responsible for such brilliance. Using the 'trauma' of what had happened to his research partner as a veil, it hadn't been any trouble to quietly resign with his income assured. "But don't you worry. I'll be spending quite a bit of it, just on you and your needs. Speaking of, I think we need to stop in the pharmacy and take a look. I doubt they'll have better diapers in there, but there's no harm in looking. Besides, we need to pick up more wipes, you little stinkpot." Once they arrived at the pharmacy, Justin was starting to put the tights back on his charge; he realized it wasn't a good look for Stewie, with the chocolate smears and handprint all over the back, but he hadn't brought any extra clothes and it wouldn't hurt Stewie any further if people saw him in such a way. He put a harness around the dummy and leashed him, not quite trusting that he wouldn't wander off while in the store. "We can't get those wipes quick enough, huh? You're a mess!" Justin tittered. "I wan' more chalk-oh-lit, daddy." The diapered dunce replied, his dimwitted little mind having one track to it. "Maybe after lunch, if you're good." Stewie got some looks as they came into the store, and for good reason. The chocolate disaster he wore looked like something a lot worse and his very obvious diaper only accentuated that. It became more self-explanatory whenever people saw his dull gaze or his drooly mouth, but that didn't blunt their disgusted expressions. "Are you finding everything alright, sir?" A saleswoman inquired as the man had started to look at the different brands of wipes. "Yes, but maybe you could help me. I'm looking for some new diapers for my special little boy; he's been having some leaks and blowouts, so I think he might need something thicker." The young woman looked down at Stewie and cringed at the sight. To her, he looked like some intellectually disabled kid with bowel control issues, among other things... For Stewie, the young woman helped to awake a weakened fragment of his former self. The saleswoman looked close to his age, so late twenties, and she was fairly attractive; in his prior life, he would have probably tried to flirt, though even then it would have been more than a little awkward. Most women had a tough time looking past his juvenile appearance for obvious reasons, though that wasn't to say that he hadn't had a few romantic relationships in his past. Now though, his underage appearance wasn't even the biggest hindrance to his dating life; even if a woman could look past his rare form of dwarfism, then they definitely couldn't get past the gross and pitiful retard that he'd become. No woman wanted a man that helplessly squeezed out turds into his diaper, or that drooled, or that picked his own nose, or that barely had the IQ of the average toddler... Still, the sight of her made Stewie smile and stare. He felt adult again for a moment. "I see...Well, we have a wide range of youth incontinence products over here. You'll probably want to try a few different brands to find the one that works best for him. We also have plastic pants, which can help keep things contained, as well as add another hindrance to kids getting into their own diaper..." She was obviously referring to the chocolate stains, but Justin didn't bother to correct her. "Oh, those might be helpful..." The man commented, picking up a few pairs to look them over. The extra layer would definitely help keep everything inside the diaper, and more importantly for Stewie, would help keep him in his filthy diapers for longer periods of time. He let go of the leash and allowed it to retract into the cute little 'animal backpack' that the harness was attached to. Justin looked around at some other pairs and started to look at the different diaper brands too. Meanwhile, Stewie had shamelessly been rubbing his hand across the front of his puffy diaper, while watching the saleswoman take her leave, and now that the leash was no longer keeping him in place, he began to waddle away. He'd followed to the end of the aisle, but she'd moved too fast for him to keep up. As if to replace her, a couple of kids were walking by and stopped to look at the dunce. They were probably ten or eleven, as they looked about the size as Stewie himself. The obvious difference being that they were real children, and also that they weren't dimwitted little diaper dumpers. While they gawked at Stewie, with their eyes trailing down from his chocolate stained mouth and hands to the undeniable bulk of what his tights barely concealed. "Dude, look! That kid's wearing a diaper!" One announced to the other, sounding genuinely surprised by the sight. "No way! You're totally right, haha! What a big baby!" The other boy cackled. "What's the deal? You piss your pants, baby? Mommy put you back in diapers for being a little pee-pants toddler?" Neither of them seemed to realize that they were mocking someone who was no longer in a normal range of intelligence, though such a factor was unlikely to change the force of their cruelty, just the content. Stewie didn't immediately respond, just standing there with a dumbfounded look on his face. Part of him knew how unacceptable it was for the brats to be teasing him; he'd been a brilliant neuroscientist, after all! A genius that studied the brain itself was not someone deserving of any teasing or mockery. A minuscule shred of his ego returned to him for just such an occasion: "I not bay-bee! You bay-bees!" He whipped up as a scathing retort. Stewie felt a surge of pride at his own 'wit' and his drooly lips curled up into a triumphant smile. Instead of being slain by the comeback, the pair of boys started to laugh even more. "Bro, I think he's like, retarded or something." A fair assumption to make after hearing how stilted and sluggish his voice was. Stewie sounded only barely capable of speech, which spoke nothing of the infantile vocabulary he'd been reduced to. For someone as loquacious as he had been, it was one of the largest contrasts that his new life had provided. Stewie recognized the word as insulting, since he'd heard a lot of it since his transformation into this. He furrowed his brow and looked upset, "Nuuuh! Not dat!" The verbal outburst was matched by a flatulent one as well; a long, juicy fart that rippled and sputtered wetly into his thick padding. He stood perfectly straight while it happened, his face betraying no sense of even acknowledging that he was seriously gassing his tights. "Oh, gross! I think he's crapping himself!" One of the boys stuck out their tongue in bemused disgust, already going to cover his nose preemptively. "I farded." Stewie casually clarified, unashamed by the loud fart that he'd just ripped. "Oh, just a fart, huh? Well, maybe we should escort him to the bathroom, huh? Wouldn't want the little retard to have an accident, would we?" The other boy grinned deviously. In a small town like this, the kids had to find entertainment wherever they could, and with how much free reign they got to roam unchecked, it was no surprise that they'd abuse the privilege. The boy grabbed a hold of Stewie's wrist and dragged him off the aisle, to which Stewie didn't put up all that much of a fight. "We were just coming in to use them ourselves, so it's really no trouble!" The other one giggled. It only took a few more moments of walking before the kid lagged behind and caught a look at the back of Stewie's tights. Besides scoping out what was an extremely obvious case of diaper-butt, he also saw the chocolate and looked disgusted at what he thought was a diaper blowout, but then he also saw the brown handprint... "Oh, sick! Dude, let go of his hand!" "What, why?" "Just take a look for yourself! The little moron got into his own poopy diaper! Ugh, just like my baby brother..." The other boy let go of Stewie's wrist and got white as a ghost when he saw what had been described to him. "That's so nasty! Wait, does that mean..." The two exchanged looks as they thought about how Stewie's mouth was stained similarly to his hands. "You don't think he's *that* much of a retard, do you?" "Me not dat!" The accused man repeated. "Oh yeah? Then what's all over your pants and hands, huh? And your mouth? Ugh, I think I'm gonna be sick..." Stewie raised his hands in front of himself and smiled, "Dat chalk-oh-lit ise-cweam!" The pair looked skeptical, but it was definitely a better alternative to consider. It explained the mouth and hands pretty well, but then it was still highly suspicious that he'd have chocolate stains on his rump too. "Yeah? And why do you have chocolate ice cream on your butt?" "Booty itchy." Stewie plainly replied, taking his hand to do the same thing, which was still a near-impossible task with the three different layers in the way. One of the boys sighed in relief, but the other one still didn't look all the convinced. "I still don't want to touch his hand again. Let's just bail and leave the little idiot here." "No, dude, look. He's got one of those leash things, like a giant toddler." The other one said, pulling the cord of the leash from the backpack. "Fine, then you hold onto it. We should go tie him to something with it." Stewie was starting to fart again, and rather grossly at that. The pair cringed, but were undeterred from bullying the mushbrain. Leading him by the leash, they took him toward the bathrooms, but they didn't make it all the way before he was starting to resist their dragging. It wasn't out of any sense of self-preservation, Stewie just really needed to poop! "Nnnghhh...hrnnnghh..." He grunted, standing in place much to the ire of his captors. His face quickly got red and screwed up like an infant. "Dude, I think he's..." **BRAAAAAAAP! FRRRRT! THUMP!** Before the obvious could even be stated, a massive knob was forming in the back of Stewie's stained tights and it was growing larger by the second as a cannonball shot out into the back of his diaper. "Hrrrmph! Made POOPIE!" He loudly announced, bending his knee to grunt the rest of the enormous turd out. "BIG POOPIE!" "Ughh...Dude, look! And its getting *bigger*. Let's just bail; I get enough smelly diapers at home from my brother. Besides, his parents are gonna come looking for him." The other boy relented and let go of the leash, "Fine. Next time though, we're not gonna wuss out. Looks like you got off pretty easy, lame-brain; this time at least." They wouldn't leave him without a parting gift however; with a mischievous smirk, one of the boys turned and gave Stewie a big shove. With him now squatting, he easily landed flat on his bottom with a nasty squish, but he hardly seemed to mind that. Stewie watched the two boys run off and let his mind drift to the amazing warmth that was oozing across his buttcheeks. He couldn't wait to finally get home from all these boring errands, or more specifically, for naptime when he'd have some privacy to enjoy his poopy diapers more fully.