Story #60: Unflattering Reflections

Story #60: Unflattering Reflections (Content Tags: Messy and wet diapers, messy and wet undies, mental regression, surreal horror, first person perspective) I spend a lot of time in front of the mirror. Can I help it? I'm a stunning sight to behold; how could one boy be so handsome and slick? People like to say that I'm full of myself, or that I'm some kind of narcissist, but considering how *they* look, that's clearly just jealousy talking. Much of my beauty is natural, but there's still a lot of work that goes into being this gorgeous! And that work has to be done in front of a mirror, so it isn't like I'm *always* admiring myself in one, sometimes it's just necessary! That's what I was doing. The first step to my morning routine was getting tangles out of my bedraggled bedhead with a brush. One brush, two brush, three brush-- My eyes caught something that looked off in the mirror. Something that looked wrong with...Me. It was only out of the corner of my eye, but I could have sworn that something had looked completely wrong, like I was wearing something else instead of just a pair of briefs; something bigger, with a shine to it. It was gone though, so I excised the thought from my mind and continued with my routine, getting my hair ready for a jump in the shower. I started to pull down my underwear to step out of them, and I heard what sounded like tape being stripped off of something. I nearly jumped at the noise, and I anxiously looked around, but nothing seemed to be the obvious culprit. I shook my head and pulled back the shower curtain, reaching over to twist the knob and to let the water warm up. Maybe there was a mouse in the wall or something? After a couple of minutes, I gently put my finger under the raining water and was satisfied by the temperature; I set the other knob to the side, so that it wouldn't get any hotter, and I began to step in. I tilted my head back, while I was pulling the curtain back into place, and something in the mirror was wrong again. What was that blue thing around my waist? I looked down, seeing nothing but my natural shame, and then looked back up and saw that it was gone from my reflection. I felt that I must not be fully awake yet. I must still be groggy and that's why my eyes were playing tricks on me, and maybe my ears too. The shower would help wake me up! I was in there for a while. I had to give my hair plenty of attention, and then I had multiple body washes and special soaps to keep my skin glowing and my fragrance delightful. By the time I turned the water off and stepped out onto the shaggy mat, the mirror had completely steamed over. I wrapped my hair in a towel and dried off the rest of my body, before I moved on to the next step of my morning routine; the most unmentionable and secretive part, where I became like everyone else and had to sit on the porcelain throne. It certainly wasn't glamorous, but no level of beauty could override basic human biology. I yawned and did my business, the mirror was still foggy, but I squinted and noticed something terrifying: I wasn't there. Even at its worst, there should have still been some blurred image of me, but it was if I just didn't exist. Startled by the impossibility, I jumped to my feet and darted toward the mirror. I was there again, blurred but reflected...What the heck was going on? Had I just been at an odd angle, or was I truly losing it? I grabbed a small towel and wiped away at a spot to see myself with, staring wide-eyed for any irregularities. Nothing. I shook my head and began to get dressed, first tugging a shirt on over my towel-clad head, and then beginning to pull on a pair of briefs. I heard noises again...Rustling? Crinkling? Still no source. A little freaked out, I didn't stay to admire myself, instead just getting fully dressed and skittering out of the bathroom. This evening was the night of the carnival, and I didn't have time to be getting spooked by my own imagination; I needed to look collected and suave as I usually did! The thoughts of my strange experience died in my head as my day at school went normally. Nobody thought I looked frazzled, even though that's how I'd felt in my first few classes. I talked with some friends about the carnival and we agreed to meet at the entrance around six. After school had let out, I went home and began to get ready for my evening of fun. I had to find the perfect outfit that showcased all my best features, so over the next couple of hours was the strenuous task of deliberation and trying plenty of things out. This time, I used the mirror in my bedroom; posing and strutting like a runway model as each ensemble was put to the test. I thought I'd found the perfect one, but I needed to see how it accentuated my perfectly round rear. I turned my head, backside facing the mirror, and gave the mirror a pouty look. As I turned, my nose wrinkled at a sudden odor that had caught me off-guard. It was vile, but it smelled familiar, what could it be? What greeted me was a dumb, drooly grin and the thing accentuating my bottom was a big puffy diaper, stained brown and sagging with the weight of an undeniable filth. I didn't jump this time, no, I was too shocked by the bluntness of it. I could only stare, with the vacant look of my reflection staring back. Even my perfect figure was gone, replaced back by the youthful appearance of baby fat. I didn't scream, though my mind cried out for it. Instead, without thinking too deeply, I reached back to grab my own butt, as if I needed to make sure I didn't have a load in my own britches. I watched my reflection track my movements, tracing them perfectly, except with less refinement of motion. He grabbed the bulging seat of his oversized Pampers, and grabbed the back of my stylishly picked jeans. I felt something warm, something squishy, and I heard myself give an infantile giggle. Only it wasn't me, it just sounded like me...Like a recording echoing in my head. I jumped back from the mirror, the terror catching up to my functions. The twisted reflection was gone, and in its place was just a very disturbed looking...Me. I felt the back of my pants again, wondering if I was going crazy, but that part was real; at some point during those tense moments, I'd soiled myself. There was also a warm spot on my crotch, and a dampness around my chin. Deciding to still go to the carnival might have been a mistake. Something was obviously wrong with my perceptions of reality, but I couldn't think of any way to tell anyone about it. The whole thing sounded far too crazy to explain, and I didn't *want* to explain it. It was too...Degrading! The thought of even conceiving of a less perfect me, of a bastardization of my handsome form, was too much for my bloated ego to take, let alone to share with others. Whatever was messed up in my head, it would have to be dealt with by only me. We met at the entrance and my smile returned as I got compliments on my stylish threads; the praise sustained me and gave me the strength to enjoy my evening. We started the night like every year, going around the bustling carnival and trying out the various booths. At one point, I won a stuffed animal, which I didn't really want, but I enjoyed having a trophy of my prowess to much to decline it. We ate cotton candy and sausage on a stick, we went on the ferris wheel and the rollercoaster, we had a fantastic time. I had all but forgotten about the oddities of my day. Until one of my friends insisted on going into the mirror maze. In years past, the mirror maze was one of my favorites. For a consummate narcissist, it was like crack, to see one's self at so many simultaneous angles. They knew how much I liked it, and I couldn't bring myself to explain why it made me nervous to go in there. I had no choice. It was as I remembered it, except maybe the layout had some slight alterations, so that people didn't memorize the right path. I tried to stay close to my friends, but at some point, we got split up. I was alone, except for the dozen other images of myself that painted the walls. My eyes carefully scanned each one, making sure that the horrible sight from earlier wasn't anywhere to be seen. On some level, I was primarily concerned that someone else might come by and see 'that' awful version of me; how embarrassing that would be! Normal, normal, normal...I counted off each one as I passed. Until I caught the sickly sweet smell of something like cotton candy and...talcum. That was what I was catching, mixed in with the cotton candy was the undeniable smell of baby powder. Had someone left their brat in here? "You dun' look right!" I stopped in my tracks. I was again hearing my own voice, though it sounded 'off', like it was in a stupor. Rapidly turning myself around, spinning to find which mirror it emanated from, I again saw him. In one lone mirror, that distorted version of myself again stood. His face was sticky with what was probably a triple-serving of the confectionery pink treat, and he too held onto a stuffed animal. He was looking right at me, his legs awkwardly bowed out from a bulky white diaper. I fumed, more angry at his comment than frightened by his presence: "M-me?! I don't look right? You're the one that doesn't look right! You're supposed to be *my* reflection!" My finger jutted out, pointing in accusatory fury. His hand didn't follow my movements. One arm remained around the plushie, while his other hand had its thumb tucked between his slobbery lips. "Nuh-uh. You's *my* ruh-flesh-on. You supposta look like *me*." Another mirror suddenly bore his reflection, and then another. He couldn't be serious, could he? I was a golden god, and he was...was...A total baby-brain short-busser! Trotting around with a pudgy tummy, an empty head, and a full seat! The nerve of him claiming not only to be me, but to be the primary 'me', it was absolutely absurd! My veins should have been iced over, but my blood couldn't run cold when it was boiling from an indignant, narcissistic rage. "Listen to me, you disgusting idiot. You're all wrong! You can't be 'me' and look that...Ugh, *repugnant*. You have no style, no pride! You're wearing a friggin' **diaper** for god's sake!" The reflection listened with some level of intrigue, though his face began to become similarly angry at my crude insults to his being. "A'course I wear diapees! It's where I go pee-pee an' poo-poo! I love my diapees!" His anger turned to a sudden relief as I saw the front of the diaper begin to swell and droop, staining from virgin white to a cowardly yellow. He hardly even seemed cognizant of doing it, like he'd flipped a switch and then flipped right back. "You da' one dat don't look right!" Another mirror began to show his image, then another and another. "You supposta' look like **me**! Do you even like makin' a huge poopie in yur' pants an' watchin' Bluey?" I was too mortified to reply, and I was starting to take notice of the other mirrors. His sloppy visage was taking over the maze. He suddenly let out a grunt and clenched his fists, "Where else you make poo-poo? Potties only go in our pants!" There was a sharp note of flatulence, which buoyed a wet crackling sound to the surface. He was soiling himself, that's all it could be. Tilting my head in horror and catching an angle of him from the back, it became more obvious; a lump kept pressing against the puffy bulwark of his seat, trying so hard to push out, like a gopher from its hole. His diaper rustled and the bump in his seat started to fully form, the crackling continuing, now joined by the sounds of a diaper being forced to expand and smooth out all those wrinkles. "NNGGHH! POOOOOPIE!" His face got red like a tomato, more saliva coating his lips than before, and his knees buckling together. The tent in his seat continued to grow, then it started to run out of space to press forward, and began to spread more evenly throughout the bottom of the diaper. He let a few more farts sputter out, his body tensed from the experience, and then with a shudder as the final part of the loaf was pinched, he let his shoulders droop just like his mucky Pampers. "...Aahhhhhh...Mmm...Poo-poo warm...poo-poo squishy..." He mumbled in a state of relief and muted fervor. His eyes came back to match my gaze, "...Dat what you s'pposta do in yur' diapee. Make big pushies, an' den.." His hand reached back to rub the back of the recently soiled seat, his fingers caressing the rounded out backside of the dirty diaper. "..You get'sta make big squishies an' mushies!" As I watched, entranced by the shameless display, my own hand reflected his motions. My hand was on my butt again, but I didn't feel the telltale heat of a pantload, but I did feel something...Thick, cumbersome. He groped at the lumpy exterior of his smelly diaper and looked back at me, "Don't you do dat in yur' diapee? Yur' s'pposta do all da stuff dat I do! Yur' a mirror, silly!" Drool was dribbling down my chin and I didn't even realize it. "N-no! I don't poopy my pants like a dumb, stinky baby! I'm a smart big boy! I pee standin' up and I wear nice clothes an' big kid undies, not diapers like you!" My fingers fumbled with the zipper of my pants and I let them drop to my ankles. "See! M'not you!" "You makin' a big tinkle in your diapee." The other boy said plainly, pointing at me. He was right, though I hadn't realized until he said something. The front of my diaper was getting warm at an alarming pace, and that warm wetness started to spread and I could feel it pressing against my buttocks too. It felt...Pleasant, like getting hugged. It made me feel placated, and I let my knees bend. **FRRRRRRT...!** "An' now you makin' pushies!" The reflection giggled. What was he saying? I couldn't quite focus on him. Instead, I was fixating on the dreamlike euphoria I was getting from letting something push out into my pants. It was like I was pushing out my own insecurities, pushing out my overwhelming pride. Something was starting to press against my rump, but it was more solid this time, like sitting in a warm pile of mud. "Mmmm...Warm...Squishy.." I said, hearing some more farting; was that dummy pooping his pants again? How shameful! Not refined and elegant like *me*, not stylish and dignified like me... All the mirrors were the same now. I hadn't taken notice of it though. I was too busy running my hand over my lumpy seat, just like I'd seen myself do only moments before. Except he was a dumb dirty diaper baby, and I was...I was...Wait, what had been wrong with the mirror? That *was* me, wasn't it? It looked just like me, and we were doing the same thing, and-- I suddenly heard my friends calling from further out in the maze; they'd likely been waiting at the end of the maze for me, and here I was, just talking to myself! I stopped squishing at my diaper and got my pants pulled back up, again having too much trouble with the zipper; hearing their calls grow more frustrated, I left the zipper down and started to waddle toward their voices. Uh-oh, why'd my pants feel so heavy? Was that why I was smelling something icky? No, that smell was great, it always came with that amazing feeling in my diaper...Wait, diaper? That wasn't right, was it? Walking past the last few mirrors of the maze, I knew something wasn't quite right. I shook the feeling off. Maybe another cone of cotton candy would help!