Story #56: Cocomelon Pop (Picture)

Story #56: Cocomelon Pop (Content Tags: Messy diapers, humiliation, braindrain, brainwashing, made to wear someone else's dirty diapers, plastic pants, no changes, surreal.) Over a hundred hours, nearly two hundred in fact, with no reprieve from its rancid loop. Locked in a small room, with limited supplies and no way of turning that awful noise off. It would be enough to drive anyone crazy. It started one week ago. I was supposed to be helping to tidy up the toddler room at the daycare where I sometimes volunteered as part of a community service stint for graffiti. The plan was that I'd go in for a little bit to clean, and then I'd leave and catch a bus to go spend Spring break with some friends at a beach house. My mother had been apprehensive about the arrangement, since she still had concerns I was running with a bad crowd, but I'd put her mind at ease with some silver-tongued fib about learning responsibility with my service to the community. She had too many double-shifts ahead of her to argue with me, and had just told me to stay out of trouble. Stay out of trouble...What a laugh I'd had at that. I was a lot smaller than my friends, but even at fourteen I could hold my liquor like the big boys. My Spring break was going to be fun in the sun, shots, spliffs, and maybe even copping a feel. I'd leave today and be back the Saturday afternoon before school started back up. I'd planned it out oh-so perfectly... But first, my last day of community service. The last time I'd be walking through those blue pastel doors, and the last time I'd be up to my elbows in dirty diapers or snotty noses. I just had to get things cleaned up before the place closed for the rest of the week. So I'd gone in, a couple hours before close, and I'd started to tidy up the joint. I left my vacation bag secured in the lobby, and I put my phone on a charger nearby it, since I knew I had a lengthy bus ride ahead of me. I'd need all that juice for rocking some tunes and launching some birds at pigs. There were still a few kids left there by the time I'd come in, but they were beginning to get picked up one by one. Most of the toddlers didn't bug me, besides the obvious gross or annoying aspects, but one in particular really chapped my hide: Zachary. He was the oldest kid still in the toddler room, nearly aging fully out, since he was almost five. But by four and three quarters, he was already way bigger than any Kindergartner that I'd ever seen, in height and especially weight. He still was refusing to be pottytrained, and the only reason the daycare put up with him was because his mother worked there. In fact, his mother was my direct supervisor. She'd been the one writing off on my community service, so I'd spent this whole time having to be especially nice to her and her little demon spawn of a son. Zachary definitely understood his privilege too, which is why he pushed around the younger kids with impunity, and saw to make my job harder at every opportunity. "Bentley, I need you to take out the diaper pails before you leave. They're really full and we can't have those just staying in here all week." Case-in-point. Zachary's diapers were a lot bigger than the other kids, and his messes were even bigger. The reason the lids on those cans weren't able to close was probably because one kid was taking up twenty percent of the total storage! "Uh-huh, will do. I'll get them on my way out." I had told her, though with my community service already having the final checkmark, I'd planned to just leave them and say I forgot. It wasn't like I'd be coming back here for anything. I looked at the clock, less than thirty minutes until my probation ended and the party would begin. I lazily dusted around the entertainment center; there was a large TV embedded in the wall, behind a thick plastic shell. This was to keep any of the kids from damaging it, but it also meant that the TV could only be turned on and off by a remote. I hated that fucking TV, even before all this had begun. Always playing babyish schlock that grated on the ears, always blasting far too loud from speakers on all corners of the room. It might have placated the toddlers, but it was certifiable ear-poison to anyone else. Zachary was the last kid here, and his mother had gone to finish cleaning the hall. I tried to ignore him, but he didn't make it easy. He trailed behind me like a shadow, asking me questions about what I would be spending Spring Break doing, and why I wouldn't be coming back afterwards. I was honest with him, at least on the basics. I'd be having big kid fun with my friends, and I wouldn't be returning because it was no longer mandatory for me to do so. He whined and moaned about me leaving, mostly because he probably would miss having someone that had to kiss his ass, and asked me to reconsider. I actually laughed out loud at that. He started to get indignant. "Why not? Aren't ya gonna miss me?!" I could no longer contain how I felt; I couldn't just continue to pretend that I didn't hate this stupid place, and especially Zach. I scoffed and shook my head, "Uh, no. I only started helping out because I was being punished, and that punishment is over after today. I won't miss this place, and I definitely won't miss an obnoxious, smelly brat like you." Zachary huffed and picked up the remote. He turned on the TV and set it to one of the few options programmed in: Cocomelon. It was horrible preschool programming that only toddlers could stomach for very long, considering the intellect of its audience, 'pantload programming' was a more apt description for it. I let out a groan and tried to ignore it. Only twenty minutes left and I could say goodbye to this bullshit forever! I finally had to tell him to turn that crap off and he just stuck his tongue out at me and got a cheeky smile. He stuck the remote down the back waistband of his shorts and started to grunt. I could hear a gross symphony of crackling and tooting coming from beneath his shorts; if the red face didn't give it away, the awful smell quickly did. So nasty! It wasn't enough that Zach was an insufferable bully, but did he have to shit his diapers five to six times a day too? And always such large loads... I shuddered and cringed, but I wasn't going to let it bug me. He finished with a juicy fart that changed his strained face into one of pure, self-satisfied relief, and I heard one last disgusting *PLOP* of another lump dropping into the putrid pile in his oversized Pampers. He was basically drooling on himself from the effort. Zachary squeezed the swollen seat of his own diaper and looked at me with a mischievous grin, "..You can get the remote back after you change my poopy diapee." Ugh, that was really ripe. Whatever this kid was eating, he needed a lot less of it. My nose wrinkled and I shook my head; cutting this close to quitting time, there was literally no way that I was going to wipe this brat's butt before I left. "Keep the remote for all I care. I'm not changing that nasty diaper of yours. Go get your mommy if you want that." Zachary gave me a dirty look, as if offended I didn't want to unwrap the 'present' he had so graciously made for me. "..You're gonna regret that, Ben-Ben. You're gonna wish you'd been nicer to me." I rolled my eyes and poked my head out into the hall to let the woman know that her little goblin had soiled himself. She seemed irritated that I couldn't just handle it myself, but I made up some lame excuse about needing to use the bathroom myself. I excused myself and let her get to work, while I went off to spend a few minutes shuffling around the restroom in the lobby. Thinking five minutes was enough, I came back just in time to see her dropping the hefty turdsack into the diaper pail, or on top of it rather, since it was totally full. She reiterated that I'd need to take the bags out to the dumpster before I left, and I reminded her that I'd get them on my way out, which was just a few minutes away... Now it was her turn to mention a bathroom break. She charged me with watching Zach and I halfheartedly agreed. At least the TV was muted, seems that she had her fill of Cocomelon today too. I was a little annoyed, since I knew how long she typically took in the bathroom, which would likely stretch past my required time here. I started to organize the changing table, and I accidentally dropped a bottle of talcum. As I went down to pick it up, I suddenly felt a blow to the back of my head and I crumpled like a tin can. In a daze, I could see Zach holding the broom that I'd earlier been using to sweep the floors. "Told ya that you'd regret not bein' nice to me." I was too stunned, too discombobulated to cogently respond or get up. I groaned and flickered in and out of full conciousness as Zachary got to work. I saw him grab the powder, and the diaper he'd been just changed out of. I was too weak to stop his plans, and each time I blinked, time was passing me by. "You shoulda changed my diapee...And you never shoulda said you were gonna not come back!" When I was finally coming around, I could feel something warm and squishy underneath my buttcheeks, and I noticed the lights in the room had gone out. The last thing I heard was the click of the door locking, and a muffled discussion outside of it, where Zachary lied and said that I'd already left. Then... Cocomelon. He must have taken the remote with him and unmuted it on his way out. Similarly, he must have hidden my bags somewhere, so that his mom really did think I'd ditched babysitting her brat to go get an early start on my Spring break. When the effects faded, of what I could only assume was a concussion, I sat up and felt warm shit smear and spread all across my ass. It was seriously nasty, especially considering it was courtesy of my assailant. I also realized he had taken my shirt, pants, and shoes. He must have put them with my bags. I was only wearing his freshly pooed padding and...A pair of 'prison pants', as I liked to call them. They were locking plastic pants, meant to keep certain tots from taking off their diapers, and they required a special key. They also could stretch out and expand to an impressive degree, as I'd seen Zachary make use of, time and time again. ...Which made it all the more horrifying, as I willed myself to stumble onto my feet, that it didn't just feel like a normal diaper and some plastic pants. The way I could barely stand, and that I definitely couldn't put my legs together, was a foreshadowing of the truth to soon come. The diaper pails from today were closed. Which could only mean... I looked down and blanched as I saw just how big and bulky my 'diaper' was. The most recent pair might have been the first put on me, but Zach hadn't stopped there; I was wearing a *ton* of dirty diapers, and the ones too small to fit had remained balled up, but stuffed into the plastic pants anyways. I was disgusted and disoriented, and Cocomelon was blaring in my ears. I staggered as I walked towards the door felt my foot kick an empty container of baby powder, with the top unscrewed; seemed he'd at least had the courtesy to use a ton of talcum on me. The door was locked, and the lights in the hall were out, evidence that nobody was left in the building. There were no windows in the toddler room, no telephone, and my cell phone was safely charging in the lobby. I looked up at the security camera and bleakly considered that nobody would be checking them until the daycare opened again... Next week. The door was extremely solid, which made sense when you wanted to protect the most vulnerable of society, but meant there was absolutely no way I'd be able to break it down, not that I'd have the coordination to even attempt it, with the mobile diaper pail I had around my waist. Rations were there in great quantity, but only the stuff that none of the tots usually wanted: prune juice and fiber-packed fig bars. The only scissors in the room were made of plastic, only good for cutting thin paper, and the room smelled only of more than a dozen dirty diapers...And I couldn't find the remote. Zachary had left me in hell. I'd be spending Spring Break in hell. And that's what it became for me. There was no clock or window, so I didn't even have a good perception of how much time was passing. Each episode of Cocomelon was made up of shorts, and each one had its own unique amount of time, so I couldn't use that as a metric either. All I knew was that I'd be in here for over a week; it was Friday when I'd come in, and nobody would be in until Saturday morning of next week. I had little else to do but to wait things out. My mom thought I was gone for the week, and I'd been planning on surprising my friends by showing up, so they didn't know they should be expecting me. My whereabouts were accounted for, even if they were wrong. So I did what I could to survive. The first few days were the hardest; I tried to resist Cocomelon, but it was inescapable, so I tried instead to distract myself by watching it, as painful as that was. I ate and drank just enough to be satiated at first, since I knew where everything would have to 'go'. That was an awful moment of its own. Pissing myself was bad, but considering how small my bladder was, I had to make peace with it pretty fast. Shitting myself...That'd been something I desperately wanted to avoid, even when taking into account I was already technically 'messy' from Zachary's putrid Pampers. By day two I couldn't hold it any longer. A diet of prune juice and fig bars was making it a fool's errand to even attempt. So I squatted down and let loose like a log flume ride, emphasis on the 'log' part. It repulsed me that first time, and the next couple of times after. By midway through the fifth day though, my 'pail pants' had grown too unruly for me to stand up, and even crawling was mostly off the table, so I just had to sit there. In front of Cocomelon. I absolutely lost my mind. Over a hundred hours of this slop with no stop, for even a second, and my brain had just 'popped'. My mind grew as mushy as my smoldering pile, and I spent the final two days pooping, laughing, and drooling. Exactly as mindless as someone watching Cocomelon in the toddler room should be. I'd become the target audience through a torture that even Guantanamo would find disturbing. Imagine the shock that my 'supervisor' had at the sight of me, come Saturday morning, and the absolute glee that Zach had in knowing how he'd completely broken me. To see me sat there, drool and snot, with all that diapers I was supposed to toss out now around my waist, and me without the wherewithal to lay the blame where it was deserved. "What do you think you're doing, young man?!" She asked me, thinking that I'd done this of my own free volition, as if I hadn't been suffering for a week straight. I just looked at her blankly, my tongue lolling out of my mouth stupidly. There came a squishy sounding eruption, like Mt. Vesuvius, from the back of my absolutely strained plastic pants. "..Mm'poooping!" My community service was up, but I wouldn't be leaving the toddler room. At least my mom wouldn't have to worry about me hanging with a bad crowd or getting into trouble. I'd be here, pooping my diapers and getting bossed around by Zachary.