Story #89: Deja Voodoo (Part 2)

Story #89: Deja Voodoo (Part 2) (Part Four to the 'Pin-Cushioned' series) (Content Tags: Ongoing story, messy undies, voodoo magic, humiliation, unrequited affection, obsession Clean-up seemed impossible. Jean-Baptiste had taken a look at the damage, after Remy had left the bathroom, and even with all these briefs stacked on eachother, the outermost layer had a small brown stain. If his accident had been more solid, then the makeshift diaper would have done a sufficient job, but as it was... The options didn't look good. He had about fifteen minutes before lunch got out and classes were to resume, and there would surely also be a flood of other boys that would come into the bathroom before the bell. He could swallow his pride and go to the nurse's office for some help, but then he'd have to explain why he was dressed like this, and why a middle schooler like him had found it alright to soil himself. He could try to clean himself up, with the short time that he had, but the single-ply toilet paper would make that a fool's errand at best. He obviously couldn't just proceed with the other half of his day either, since he smelled like a sewer. The only prudent choice felt like he needed to sneak out and waddle to a nearby convenience store or something. He needed wipes, or more preferably a shower, but it'd be too risky to do that at home right now. His parents sometimes came home early from work, and the last thing he wanted to do was to get caught playing hooky. One solution did present itself, if he was to sneak off the campus; there was a nearby bayou that he could take a dip in, though he'd need to be quick about it, since sometimes gators would drift in from further down in the swamp. It was a minimal risk, but still one to consider, especially since he'd be going over there alone. He had already spent too much time deliberating in a stall, he needed to make his choice, before the opportunity to do anything slipped away. Wanting to keep this as secret as humanly possible, he finally opted for an afternoon dip. The pathway outside the school wasn't too hard to get on, with security being so minimal, and his absence likely wouldn't get a call home, since he'd been there for attendance earlier on. Within ten minutes of cautious waddling, he was outside the perimeter of the campus and he was making his way towards the nearby woods. Besides the gators, there was one other danger he needed to look out for on his journey, and it was debatable on which had the more vicious bite: teenagers. The bayou was a popular hangout for high school students to ditch class and go drink or smoke at. They wouldn't take too kindly to having a 'kid' intruding on their fun, even less so if they found the sorry state of his pants. The only saving grace was that the bayou stretched pretty far, and the delinquents wouldn't be near the mouth, since that was too close to the public eye. If he stayed closer to the start, he might run the risk of some random passerby seeing him, but a confused adult was highly preferable to a sadistic teen, and there was less chance of gators, snakes or leeches at the entry. Jean Baptiste took a deep breath once he'd arrived, ducking behind a mighty cottonwood. The coast looked clear, and while the water was murky, he couldn't see any eyes floating at the top. Jean slipped off his shoes and balled up his socks to put inside, he then unzipped his pants and let them drop to his ankles. Glancing down, he grimaced at the bulk of his undies-stack and the fetid odor that emerged from their heavily soiled condition. He considered taking all of them off except for the base pair, but that seemed like it could get messy. The best thing really came across as walking in with all of them on, and then perhaps disrobing while under the sway of the water. The swamp would hide his shameful secret, just like it had all those years ago. Next off was his shirt, and he stuffed all of his clothing into his backpack, planning on leaving it nestled up against the tree. Standing in the damp grass, wearing nothing but his dirtied 'diaper', there came a flicker of things best left forgotten. It was just like before, the only difference was that he'd gotten older and gotten a taste of being 'popular'. Jean was paralyzed. "Yeah, I left them in a cooler a little further down. I mean, they're like Natty Ice or some shit, but can you believe someone just left half a case at that self-serve place? Man, I was just looking to vacuum up the seats, since me and Heather were going out for that movie, but then BAM! Score!" There was chattering and obnoxious laughter. It was getting closer and closer, but Jean was trapped inside his own past. He was like a statue, if one were to ignore the quivering at least. "Yeah dude, I found a bag of bud at that stop-and-go a few months ago. Shit was sketch, but it smoked like some straight dank. People need to pay better attention to their shit." "Yeah, one man's trash though, or finders-keepers, I guess...Whoa, check out 'Tarzan' over there!" The teenage trio spotted the middle schooler from afar. They weren't close enough to see him too distinctly yet, instead thinking he was just some kid running around in his underpants. The snap of a stick under one of their feet is what woke Jean back up to what was happening. The boy turned his head, panicked and spotting that he himself had been spotted. The teenagers were less than twenty feet away now, and closing in on him fast, all while stupidly snickering at the sight before them. "Going for an afternoon swim, junior? Forget your trunks?" "I think he's playing hooky like us. Is that right, kid? You ditching daycare?" "Probably snuck out during nap time! Or ran off during a diaper change." Jean Baptiste was still living in two realities: the past and the present. Every crude comment and jabbing jeer took him back in time, specifically to getting bullied on the playground by some older kids. He reached his hands down to cover himself, but it didn't help all that much. Once the teens had gotten right up to him, Jean was basically shaking and his knees were knocking. All his confidence, the cool factor that'd made him so socially adaptable with his peers, it was leaking out and being replaced by the childish terror he'd tried so desperately to shut the door on all these years. "Well how about it, pipsqueak? Not old enough to talk yet?" "Nah, dude. I think he's just scared. Look at his legs!" A warmth sprung in the front of Jean's briefs. It was small and easily overlooked in his battered headspace, but it'd lead to something else being seen on his legs soon enough. The boy finally spoke up, quietly and meekly, "...I-I'm just going for a swim..." "Going for a swim? Without your floaties? Cory, don't you lifeguard at the pool? Think you got some water wings for junior here?" "Or maybe some 'Lil' Swimmers'!" Another round of laughter erupted from the boys, while Jean shrank back and blushed at the juvenile mockery he'd become the target of. One of the teens suddenly got a look on their face, "Dude, something smells straight up like shit." "Sure does. Maybe little dude got scared and crapped his pants." It was a joke at first, but the silence that followed from the middle schooler was deafening. The way he looked down at the ground, with eyes on the verge of tears, made things all too obvious. "No way... Little dude, did you actually shit yourself? Are you a fuckin' baby, or a retard, or what? Grant, check it out." "Why me?!" "You have a little brother; you know how to do that kind of shit." "That's diaper duty for a three year old, not a fuckin' fifth grader or whatever! Cory, you should do it; you're a lifeguard, right? Don't you have to check it out if some kid drops a deuce in his trunks?" "I don't get paid enough for that shit. At most, I'll stop a kid if I see something running down their leg, or if some kid has a diaper that looks its got a bowling ball in it or something. I don't 'check' them though, I just send them to their parents." "Yeah, well, something tells me that the brat's parents aren't hanging around to supervise him right now." While they'd been bickering, Jean had been starting to back up ever-so-slowly. He just needed an opening so that he could run and jump into the water; he doubted that the teens would follow him in. Just as he was about to turn and begin his sprint, he felt a hand grip tightly around his wrist. "Where do you think you're going, junior? We still have to check your..." The teen trailed off, now getting a closer look at Jean's underwear. Wearing so many pairs, it looked as bulky and cumbersome as a pair of old-fashioned training pants, and there were some small stains seeping through. "...What the fuck are you wearing? You just decide to put on the whole undies drawer this morning, or what? Ugh, dudes, I can *see* the shit! Guess we don't need to go checking!" More snickering from the gangly hyenas. "He must have run out of diapers! Doesn't look like those were a good replacement though, the kid's got a blowout!" More warmth in front. Another fragment of a tormented memory of suffering long past. A yellow stain slowly began to grow on his white briefs, and without the necessary absorption of a diaper, a trickle began to glisten down his scrawny legs. "Check it out, he's pissing himself!" All of a sudden, Jean-Baptiste was seven years old again and thrown fully back into a former life. He was trying to have fun on the playground, at the park next to his house. After going on the monkey bars and getting pantsed by a group of preteens, he was getting brutally mocked and laughed at for his poopy diaper. He was crying and peeing himself, feeling so infinitesimally small and weak. He got shoved onto the ground, landing right on his squishy bottom and feeling the mess seep to every corner of his garment. It happened before, and it was happening now. He was just a pitiful diaper-dork; always had been. "Go home and get your dirty diapee changed, baby boy. The bayou is for big kids; we better not catch you around here again." And just like that, it was over. The teenagers had their fun, but they were done wasting time on a sniveling little brat like him. They left Jean Baptiste to his mucky pants, sitting there in the marsh with tears streaming down his cheeks. After taking a few minutes to regain his composure and to wait for the teens to make some distance, he stood up and wiped his face dry. His world was whirling, but he still had a job to do here. The smelly boy began to walk toward the mouth of the bayou, but by the fifth or sixth step, he was hearing something crinkling. One glance down and he was met by the sight of a clean diaper, with the rest of the underwear he owned having just completely disappeared. He didn't know what to feel about this development, but decided it was best to get dressed and take his leave. He was too frazzled to return to school, nor did he want to in a diaper, and he didn't feel it was wise to take the infantile thing off either. Jean left the bayou the same way that he'd entered and decided he'd go grab a soda or something while he waited for school to get out. He still had a meeting with Remy ahead of him, and it was seeming less and less wise to miss it. Meanwhile, Remy had been watching the doll with his backpack open between his legs in class. He hadn't seen what all had happened, but he could sense a humiliated energy coming from it, which is what had drawn him to switch out the doll's choice of underpants in the first place, especially after they'd been on for so long. This was better anyways; he wanted his beloved to be in a real diaper for their upcoming rendezvous. It would help him to illustrate his point, and aside from that, it'd feed the glee in his heart.