Story #65: Bullied by the Baby (1980)

Story #65: Bullied by the Baby (1980) (Here's the first time warped story of the month, for Tale #14: 'Bullied by the Baby'.) (Content Tags: Messy and wet undies, messy and wet training pants, plastic pants, domination, humiliation, diaper sniffing, face sitting, implication of wearing someone else's dirty diaper) "But Phoebe, you're the one who is supposed to be babysitting him, not me!" "I'm babysitting *both* of you twerps, but I'm also having some of the girls over, and we don't need a couple of sticky-fingered brats blowing the scene. Just play with him in your room for a few hours, use your imagination." "..But I was gonna watch the 'Super Friends' and--" "Me and my friends are using the TV tonight, twerp. Now beat it!" That frank discussion had been a prologue to how DJ's friday night would turn out. His older sister had been tasked with babysitting a neighbor to make some shopping money, and once she learned that her own parents were leaving her to watch DJ too, she'd selfishly decided to abdicate her first job to her second. DJ didn't appreciate it in the least. The eight year old was waifish, appearing a few years younger than his peers, but that didn't mean he was a suitable playmate for the toddler that he was supposed to be entertaining. Even less so did it mean that he was a suitable caregiver for a kid half his age. He spent the next couple of hours playing with toys in his room, pushing the thought of what would soon come from his head. Eventually though, the time came, and his door swung open with his sister on the other side. "Here's my baby brother's room, Marvin. You two can play together while you're over, right DJ?" Phoebe gave her brother an expecting look and DJ just quietly sighed in return, knowing he really didn't have a choice in the matter. Phoebe gave her charge a gentle nudge and he went into the room, "You two play nice and I'll order a pizza for dinner." The teenager left, and with her departure, her duties had officially departed on to DJ. Marvin wandered into the bedroom, looking to be a little older than DJ expected, or maybe just big for his age; he looked closer to Kindergarten age than daycare age. "...Hey Marvin. I guess I hafta watch you tonight." DJ bitterly greeted, starting to stand up off the carpet. "I guess I can find some toys you can play with or whatever, I just don't want you to break anything." Marvin came closer, giving DJ a better idea of their size contrast, which wasn't as large as he thought it would be. With DJ being small for his age, he was only about four inches taller, maybe five, and they had very different builds. Marvin looked bulky, chubby with baby fat, while DJ was a total featherweight. "I wanna play with dat one." Marvin pointed a stubby finger at the action figure that DJ had just been using. "Huh? Oh, that's uh, that's a toy for bigger kids...I can find you one that's for someone like you. You're in like, Kindergarten, huh? I don't really think I've seen you at school though..." Marvin shook his head, "I dun' go to school yet! M'three!" The lad stated, putting the tip of his thumb in his mouth. "T-three? Really? Wow, you're kinda big for a three year old! Well then we definitely gotta find something else for you to play with...I'll check my closet, maybe I have some of my old baby toys still in there.." "I wanna play with *dat one*." Marvin sternly reiterated, narrowing his eyes at his host. "An' I notta baby!" It was DJ's turn to look annoyed, and he furrowed his own brow. "That's *my* toy and I already said no. This is *my* room and I get to choose what you can play with. Got it?" The tot nibbled on his thumb and shook his head, simply starting to walk toward the toy with an obvious intent of ignoring what DJ had ruled. "Nuh-uh." What was the older boy to do? He wasn't about to let some grubby toddler play with his favorite wrestling figurine, especially when the brat had been putting his fingers in his mouth! He'd probably get drool and boogers all over it! DJ tried to intercept, getting in front of Marvin with his arms folded in front of him. With DJ blocking his path, Marvin stopped in his tracks and looked irritated. Then an idea began to bubble up in his head and a crooked grin spread across his face, "How 'bout we wrestle fer' it?" DJ looked a little surprised by the offer and thought about it for a moment. He did love to watch wrestling on TV, much to his sister's chagrin, and he was confident in his abilities to take down a three year old, though maybe a little anxious that he might accidentally hurt the younger boy. "You sure? I watch a *lot* of matches, *and* I'm bigger and older than you." Marvin offered a toothy grin, "I watch lots too!" "Okay...But when I win, you have to listen to me and not touch anything I don't want you too. Okay?" The toddler agreed to the terms and DJ spent the next few minutes clearing the floor and laying down thick blankets down, using pillows to create a border for their 'wrestling ring'. Once he was satisfied with how it looked, he began to pull off his shirt. "Gotta look the part too... I don't think I have anything that'd fit you, but uh, I guess use your undies and maybe make a cape outta your shirt.." DJ offered some advice as he stripped down to his own pair of double-seated Superman underoos and showed Marvin how to tie a shirt around his neck. The toddler gawked at DJ's underpants and was bashful while undoing his overalls. Once they dropped down, DJ better understood why Marvin had seemed shy: the boy was still wearing training briefs! Not only that, but they had plastic baby pants over them! It was DJ'S turn to stare, until that staring turned to rapturous laughter. "You still aren't pottytrained?! But you're so big! I thought you said you were three? Not still a little baby!" Marvin's face got red, a combination of shame and fury. He tugged down the plastic pants and prodded a finger at the cotton material of the training briefs, "These aren't diapees! M'not a baby!" DJ was still doubled over and it took a minute for him to compose himself again, "Trainin' pants are pretty much the same thing, baby-butt. You still piddle in 'em don't ya? Still make in 'em too, I bet! I dunno if I can wrestle with a *baby*..." Marvin growled lowly and clenched his fists, pulling the plastic pants back into place. "You're not dat much biggerer! I can still beat ya! And if I do...If I do...Then we gotta switch!" DJ looked confused, "...Switch?" The toddler tapped his trainers, "Yup! I get your supah-man undies! An' you get this!" If DJ had thought there was any chance of a loss, then he wouldn't have accepted these strange terms. But he was humoring the younger boy by wrestling him in the first place, and the way he saw it, Marvin could do with an attitude adjustment, so he just snickered and agreed. "One...two...three...Go!" DJ announced. The regret he would soon feel would be almost immediate. For as much as he had underestimated Marvin, the younger boy had taken advantage of the lowered guard and slammed right into him. The level of force hadn't been expected in the least, and so DJ got knocked backwards and off his feet, slamming his slender frame right onto the blanket. It'd been a direct hit to his diaphragm, leaving the boy breathless, and giving Marvin the perfect opportunity to sit on the boy's bare chest and put his feet down over DJ's arms to pin him. "Lookit dat! I mus' be really good, huh! Now I jus' gotta count to ten!" DJ got his breath back and coughed, beginning to squirm underneath the boy's heft. "T-that was just a lucky shot! You probably can't even *count* to ten, baby-butt!" The expression of glorious victory faded from Marvin's face as he realized that DJ was right. "W-well...! Den you gotta count!" "I'm not gonna count for you! Now g-get off!" Marvin didn't like DJ's response, so he lifted padded rump up, and then plopped back down on the thin boy's stomach. This elicited a yelp and then a groan as Marvin could see what the result of his slam had been, playing out right before his eyes: a dark spot growing across the front of the very Superman underoos he'd been coveting. "You pee-peed!" The tot pointed, starting to giggle at the lapse in bladder control. DJ couldn't believe what he'd just done, and worse, the feeling he felt in his gut was that he wasn't far off from doing something worse. "I-I couldn't help it! You dropped your stupid fat butt on my tummy! It just...Came out!" "I did dat? Maybe I can do it again!" Marvin grinned, raising himself back up. "N-no, wait, don't d--" Too late, the toddler had already crashed back down onto the grade schooler, and instead of forcing a response from his bladder, this time there was a sound like a whoopee cushion being sat on, ending in a squishy crackling that signified that DJ had definitely just pooped his pants. "No fair! You're jus' ruinin' the undies switch!" Marvin had the gall to complain, "Dun' worry, I make it fair.." DJ was too dazed to ask what that meant, and beyond simply having warm mush under his bum, he felt sickly from the repeated abuse his body was taking. He suddenly had a brand new respect for the wrestlers he watched on TV! By the time he could register what Marvin had been saying, he was hearing a sigh of relief and feeling a muted warmth where the tot sat on him. "A-are you...? R-really?! Get off! That's so gross!" DJ squeaked with disgust at the revelation that the younger boy was wetting his training pants, even though he himself had already made full infantile use of his briefs. "Not till you count to ten!" Marvin chirped, "An' you better be fast, if you don't wanna be wearing stinkypants when we switch...Actually..." Marvin looked down at the prize awaiting him and frowned. He wanted to wear big boy undies, and that meant having a pair that wasn't used like a diaper! "...An' I get clean ones when I win, or I'm jus' gonna keep droppin' down on ya." DJ didn't have the pain tolerance for anymore of that, so he haphazardly agreed to those terms, but he was still reticent to announce his own loss by counting. After reiterating that Marvin would have to do that part himself, the younger boy became upset. "Hmph...Den I gotta use my finishin' move! The uhhh, 'Poo-Driver'!" He lazily concocted, lifting himself up again, but this time staying up in the air. He suddenly tugged his plastic pants down and started to lower his padded rump closer to DJ's face. "You should start countin'!" Was all he suggested before the first foul wind broke with a grunt. This was beyond what DJ could handle and he frantically began to squirm, "N-no! I give up! I give up! You win!" Another wet fart ripped into the training briefs, and the smaller boy started to talk between strained grunts. "N-nope! Gotta count! Dat's how they do it on TV! Real slow!" This couldn't be happening. It was probably the one time he wished that his sister would disregard his privacy and barge in here. Alas, no help was coming, so he had to start counting to his inevitable humiliation: "O-one! T-two!" Two was right. A lump was starting to push out against the fabric of the training pants, right before DJ's terrified eyes. "T-three!" The age of the dumb baby that'd just wrestled him into submission, regardless of what the age gap should empower him with. Audible plopping came as the lump began to manifest more fully and the material of the garment really began to stretch out with it. DJ kept frantically counting, but his eyes couldn't look away from the looming mass being formed with wild flatulence right above his nose. "..Nine! T-ten!" Just when Marvin had been declared the winner, and when he'd pinched off an inordinate payload in his pants, he threw up his hands in victory, and took this time to give the big finish of his special move. He plopped his befouled seat right down on the loser's nose and let forth a concluding cacophony of sloppy gas. DJ was just fortunate to not be comatose from the rank fumes, and even when his tormentor had finally gotten off of him, the older boy remained lying on his back in his soiled undies. He heard his dresser being opened up, and Marvin returned holding a fresh pair of superhero undies. "You lost, 'Doo-Doo DJ'! Time to switch!" Looking at the saggy state of Marvin's training briefs, DJ deduced his night stuck 'babysitting' wasn't getting better anytime soon. --