Unwanted Presents

An illustration done for 'Long Story #1: Unwanted Presents'. Long Story #1: Unwanted Presents (CW: Diaper sniffing, forced to wear someone else's dirty diaper. General dirty diaper domination, so if that isn't your jam, you might want to skip this one.) Maybe bragging hadn't been the most prudent option. How could one resist though? Peter was spoiled rotten and he absolutely reveled in it; what was the point of being king of the present heap, if nobody else could languish at the bottom? And now he was languishing at the bottom, or at least at a bottom. It had started only a couple of days prior, before Christmas, and his younger stepbrother had come to spend the holidays with them. That side of the family wasn't as well off, and while Peter was an only-child in this household, his stepbrother contended with various others for a piece of the present pie. Peter rarely saw the preschooler, thankfully, but was more than familiar with his quirks. For one, Billy, the one in question, was still plodding around in packed Pampers as a way of life. Pottytraining wasn't going anywhere, and Billy didn't seem to have much of an interest in the process, instead preferring to push whatever may come out into his cushioned seat. Being a crude, immature, and frankly mean-spirited little hellion, Peter wasted no opportunities to jeer and mock this fact. He would smoosh the boy's seat, make juvenile remarks, and loudly announce whenever Billy was 'poopy'. Being eight, Peter couldn't help but still be grossly fascinated, and endlessly amused. That brought the next of Billy's quirks to the surface: he was big for his age. Peter was twice as old as him, but only stood half a foot above the tyke, and the chubby pantsfiller was densely built. Peter had never considered that Billy might be able to overpower his featherweight frame, but as recent events had unfolded, he had become acutely aware about where he stood in the vie for power. Worse yet, he hadn't just overpowered Peter, but he had stricken him down in the war of wits as well. This preschooler, who waddled around with a load in his drawers, was able to run circles around him on an intellectual level! Billy was cunning and sly, and most frighteningly of all, without a sense of mercy. It was only by sweet providence that the tot hadn't grown weary of his antics earlier on; but no, it was not ire that lit the fuse, but infantile greed. Though, Peter must admit, perhaps ire had been the payload that packed the powder keg. With as clever as Billy was, much of this torment had been fully unnecessary, if he simply wished to lay claim to Peter's beautiful bounty. In no reasonable way, did pilfering Peter's presents, require that the older boy find his nose pressed to the filling seat of an oversized Huggies. Especially not more than once. But all of that had started over a bratty boast. Peter's idea of welcoming Billy over had been to lead him to the Christmas tree and begin to point out all the big-ticket items that he had been assured were there. Oh, what an ephemeral beauty that had been, to see the naked jealousy form on the younger boy's brow, to see the curling frown of unadulterated envy. That smug sense of superiority hadn't been built to weather what Billy had in store. It had started small and begun to escalate at an exponential rate; vases shattered, crayon scribbles on the wall, and even accusations of harm. The brat, oh-so clever, had been framing him. It was a battle of sociopathic behavior, and for once, he was completely out of his league. Billy sealed the deal by 'innocently' posing the question: "If Peter is naughty, then should he be getting all these gifts?" One by one, his pile of presents began to shrink, or rather, they began to be relabeled and shifted into Billy's court. It was small things at first, just simple toys, but Billy was batting for a grand slam, and the heist had only just begun. Thus came Peter's second big mistake. There was no way he was just going to sit idly by while Billy robbed him blind, and with his parents already not taking his side, he would need to settle things mano a mano. Some intimidation, some strong words, and maybe a show of force; he was convinced it would be an easy task. It was not. Peter cornered him in the playroom, while the younger boy had been enthralled with some building blocks. Peter had shown up wearing a scowl, his hands planted on his hips, and eyes shooting daggers the size of swords. "I know what you've been doing. You're a big fat liar and if you don't come clean, then I'm gonna make you regret it." The tyke had been wholly unmoved, both emotionally and physically. He hadn't stopped stacking blocks, and his reaction had been as if Peter was a lowly pest that was buzzing in his ear. Peter had begun to get angry. Did this brat think this was some kind of big joke? Did he not realize who the big kid here was? Such insolence! Such irreverence! "Hey! You got cheerios in your ears, baby-butt? I'm talkin' to you! Now get off your smelly butt and go tell the truth!" Billy smiled, faintly at first, but he couldn't help but crack a fully crooked grin. He was like a crocodile that had just found his prey. Slowly, he turned his head, as if to acknowledge that Peter was making demands. "Nope. I don't think so." The younger boy plainly replied. What else was there to say? He didn't plan on stopping until all those presents were his, and the only part that Peter would get to decide, was how painful and damaging the loss would sum up to be. The older boy lost it. His freckled cheeks boiled with an indignant rage and his hands clenched tightly into fists. "I'm not giving you a choice, stupid!" Peter stomped forward and suddenly sent a swift kick to the colorful, disharmonious architecture that Billy had so proudly constructed. The spire broke apart and blocks of all shapes and sizes began to rain down to the fuzzy carpet below. "...Are you gettin' it now?! I don't wanna hafta repeat myself!" Billy's grin faltered, and for a moment, Peter could see a seething fury in those emerald eyes. The older of the two had stepped over the line and directly onto a landmine; now it was time for the resulting shrapnel to eviscerate his ego. Billy stood up, his damp diaper on full display, only the waistband being obscured by his shirt. "You sure? Because you keep repeating yourself! The only one here not 'gettin' it' is you." He came a step closer, bringing with him the type of gravity that befit a human monster, and not someone who still had velcro on their shoes. "You coulda' just let it happen, and I woulda' let you keep a couple toys." Peter gulped, he could feel an almost primordial fear welling up inside his stomach. He'd never seen the mask slip before, and it was turning his perception completely on its head. "T-they're my gifts! I should be the one getting them! Besides, they're gifts for a big boy, not a dumb, stinky baby!" That crooked smile seemed to return to Billy's rosy face; it was full of mischief, and perhaps something darker. "You're right, Petey! A big boy should be gettin' them, not a dumb, stinky baby. Don't worry, by the time Christmas gets here, I'll make sure we're both ready to get the right gifts." Billy suddenly shoved him and Peter stumbled backwards, ironically tripping over the same blocks he had just turned into a floor hazard. Peter tried to catch himself, but he stumbled and clumsily sprawled onto the playroom floor. Before he could fully recover, Billy had marched forward and stepped on his hands. Peter let out a short, squeaky yelp, but that did nothing to stop the tyke. Instead, Billy began to lower himself, jutting his padded posterior particularly at Peter's face. Confusion turned to horror as the older boy recognized what was happening and was powerless to stop it. "H-hey! What are you doing?! G-get offa' me!" Billy didn't respond at first, instead focusing his efforts on a more pertinent goal. He continued to lower himself, until the crinkly garment was only inches away from Peter's nose, and then unceremoniously proceeded to grunt and strain himself. "..Mmphh! N-nope!" FRRRTTT "..You're always makin' fun of me for goin' in my pants, so today..." PHBBBBFFFT "..You can be part of the joke!" Peter tried to tilt his head away, in order to escape the gassy eruption, but it was a futile effort, as was his shortlived attempt to hold his breath. Any attempt to break free from this cruel and unusual punishment was met with the sting of failure. An unsightly bump began to take form in the bottom of the garment, giving definitive proof that this wasn't just gassy posturing. The boy grunted more loudly, producing a wet crackling sound in his diaper. "Hehehe...Hope you like smellin' my poop! Mmmph!" The tot teased as Peter was forced to endure the increasing odor. His cheeks suddenly blazed crimson and he shut his eyes: "..SMELL--" BRAAAP! "..MY--" BLLLLARRRRTTT "..POOOOOP!" PLOP...SQUISH! It wasn't an order that Peter wanted to follow, but opting out was off the table. As the white wall of the Pampers became increasingly lumpy, each log deposited with a flatulent farewell, there was absolutely no reprieve from the ripe aroma. The crinkly garment had begun to sag sadly, gradually erasing the already short distance between his nose and the warm seat. "Ewwww! Eww! Get off, get off! I don't wanna smell your gross poopy diaper!" He shouted, his nose burning from the fowl miasma. "I-I'll tattle on you!" Billy couldn't help but laugh, seemingly pleased with how this was shaking out. The tot still had fiery cheeks, and some latent drool dribbling down his chin from the strain, but he could find the time to appreciate the humor at play. "Better get used to it! You're gonna really get ta' know my 'gross' poopy diapees; real close up too...And what'cha gonna say if you tattle? Gonna say what you were up to? Peter Poosniffer?" The older boy was aghast. Billy had a point after all; even if Billy might get in trouble for doing this, it was far too humiliating to admit that this had even happened. More importantly, it was much more likely that Billy would twist things to his own advantage, with nothing more than moxie and revisionist history. "I think you gotta learn your place, Petey. You're at the veeeeery bottom." To enunciate his point, he suddenly started to lower himself even further, and the squishy backside of the diaper began to make contact with the other boy's nose. If the fumes had been bad before, they'd just raised their 'rank' by an unholy magnitude. Peter tried to let out a disgusted clamor, but it became muffled as Billy sat his ripe rump right on the boy's face. "I'm gonna be the big kid from now on, and you're gonna listen to everything I say. Got it?" The only response was a desperate squirming struggle; flailing, kicking legs and more muffled gibberish. Billy smiled and tensed up, some more sloppy gas rasping within the confines of the putrid Pampers. More filth settled into his seat, and Peter could feel the diaper warmly expand further against him. The older boy could feel his reserves of strength run low and he finally relented to the infantile torment, remaining still on his back. Billy gyrated his rump around for a few more moments, some residual toots slipping out, before he also let go of his bladder and finished things by soaking himself with a dull hiss. Satisfied that he'd asserted his superiority, the younger boy finally lifted his soiled seat off of Peter and began to stand up. "I'm glad we had this lil' talk!" He chirped, as if they had discussed a matter of basic etiquette, instead of him debasing his stepbrother in one of the most infantile ways. That had been days ago, and since then, Billy had thought it necessary to 'remind' Peter of his place several times after. Every time the tot messed himself, he would coyly beckon Peter over with that same sharky grin. If Peter wanted to avoid a repeat of that traumatic first time, it was in his best interest to play along, and 'willingly' sniff at the boy's dirty diaper, like a dog, or a pig hunting truffles. And after the first couple of times, even that wasn't enough; he had to plead for the opportunity, as if Billy was doing him a favor! All the while, he also had to start abiding the very plot that he had tried to stop. He had to start actively misbehaving, in whatever way his stepbrother saw fit. He began to suck his thumb and wet his bed, he began to talk back and throw tantrums. It was all very degrading, but paled in comparison to what the alternative would be. More and more, he saw his presents ending up on Billy's side of the tree. Finally, Christmas morning had arrived, and Peter saw salvation in the near future. Today would mark the last day that Billy was a blemish in these halls, at least for a while until his next visit. From the visual audit that he'd done the night before, it looked like he still had a handful of nice gifts left, and now it would be too late for Billy to snag them! His stepbrother had no such plans to allow Peter the remaining scraps. In fact, before the morning would even really start, the little boy was looming in the doorway. "G'mornin' Petey. Merry Christmas." Peter was hardly fooled by the saccharine salutation; he sat on his bed and gave a nervous flit of his eyes. "...M-merry Christmas. W-we should go and unwrap our gifts.." Bitterness drowned his heart at his own words, primarily at 'our gifts', considering just what double meanings that now had with the redistribution of presents. The door closed behind Billy and he toddled into the room, his diaper hidden by a footed sleeper. As he got closer, Peter could see that the brat had brought some items in with him. Slowly, almost in a performative way, he plodded in and placed the items on the floor. "Don't worry, Petey. We'll go soon. First though, I thought that I could give you some 'presents' of my own, since I'm takin' most of yours. You'll get to unwrap them and everything. You'll even get to show off, jus' like you wanted to in the first place." What came next was almost exactly what Peter could have expected by parsing the fine print of that statement. Much like he'd had to do several times already, he was commanded to get on the floor and prepare to give unwanted worship to Huggies being unloaded upon with 'Christmas fudge'. The smell had become a little more tolerable, but he hadn't been able to grow accustomed to the death-blows it dealt to his dignity. The pajamas helped too, in giving that one extra layer of separation, but it was hardly enough to quell the qualms of a conscripted Huggies-huffer such as he'd become. "Mmmphh...! I made sure to eat a whole lot last night! Jus' for you. I know how much you like big--" BLLLLARRRRT! ..CRACKLE.. PLOP! "--Presents. You musta been pretty naughty though, cuz I guess you're just getting lumps of coal! Lotta them too.." The brat snickered and japed, being true to his word in making an inordinately sized pile in pants. Once he finished soiling himself, he allowed his stepbrother some fresh air as he stood back up straight. "..That wasn't really the present though. That was more like... Shaking the box, to guess what's inside." That sharky grin grew again and Billy began to unbutton his pajamas, stepping out of them so that the hefty, sagging poopsack was on full display. "...Like, I said. You still gotta unwrap it, and then you gotta show it off." Peter looked off to the side and realized that the stuff brought in had been changing supplies. He scowled, not looking forward to the diaper duty being foisted upon him, but it was still better than having the dirty diaper itself foisted upon his face, so he didn't air any complaints. To the best of his ability, he got the younger boy cleaned up and taped into a new diaper. Whether or not that new diaper was put on very well was a different story, but ostensibly, Peter had done what he was told, and now he held the heavy diaper in his hands. "...There, I unwrapped your dumb 'presents' you made for me, and I got you changed...Can we go to the real presents now?" Billy shook his head slowly and gestured toward the stinking diaper. "I made you something, you unwrapped it, and now you need to try it on and show me how much you like your present." Peter's mouth hung wide open as he understood what was being asked of him, or more accurately, what his marching orders were. He started to try to argue, tried to insist that this had gone too far, but Billy was rather insistent himself. The brat pointed out that he was going to wear the messy garment regardless, it was just a matter of how much trouble Peter wanted to make for himself in the process. Already broken down, and fearing what other compounding humiliations may come otherwise, he had to acquiesce. With an expression of pure disgust, he started to put Billy's poopy diaper on. Immediately, he already got the impression of just how full the thing had been stuffed. The diaper was hot, squishy, and carried a fetid musk that he almost felt nose-blind to. "There ya go! Its a perfect fit!" Billy ordered him to squish around in it for the time being and to wait about ten minutes before going to join the front room festivities. It was checkmate for this little game. Billy would make a theatrical go at using the toilet like a big boy, and once Peter came into the room, he would accuse the boy of pilfering a dirty diaper out of his diaper pail, and worse, of wearing it! That would be the clencher, the thing that proved that Peter didn't need any new toys this year; his folks would instead be looking to instill some much needed discipline. It had all started with a boast; one that had been flipped entirely on its head. Peter figured going forward though, that he probably wouldn't have much to brag about.