Story #21: Trapped Underneath the Filter

I felt the warm, swollen material pressing tightly against me. When had that happened? Another soggy diaper to remind me that I was no longer in control of things; I should only feel fortunate that no fuming 'luggage' got left in the trunk as well. Functionally, I was basically an oversized toddler: my mobility was stunted, my bladder and bowel control laughable, and my verbiage cut down to what was comparable with a two year old. To all outward appearances, I was an intellectually mutilated mockery. The drool, the vacant eyes, the stench of failure that emanated from a drooping diaper... It was all wrong. My brain was fully intact, my thoughts while muddled at times, were just as brilliant as they had once been. The only problem was the ability to project those thoughts outward, to make my external self match the internal. It always seemed so futile however, and it was never even remotely convincing. I could try to talk to someone, to be cogent and eloquent, and the words would be transformed as they left my mouth. Desperate expressions of intellect, put through a filter of infantile idiocy, coming out as babbling gibberish about diapers or whatever preschool programming I had been set in front of. I began to waddle away from the spot on the living room carpet that been set up specifically for me; leaving the comforts of my blanket and toys, rustling with each step. I must be quite the sight, from the string of drool that hung from my mouth, to my ever-softening stomach, to the yellow stained adult diaper that hugged my hips in idle desperation as they sagged between my thighs. Any opportunity was one worth taking, no matter how futile things felt. My situation was not one of happenstance, no, it was born of a malicious intent. The exact origin of how this had been done to me was a little hazy, but I had an idea of what I was looking for. My brother, the less achieved brat that he was, undeniably was the source of these ills. It was some sort of curse, as the smug pipsqueak had blithely admitted to me after the changes first started. There must be some arcane bauble or worn grimoire that were the culprit. Some object of power that my sneaky little brother had come into possession of, and that meant there should be something it could do to reverse this. I just had to make it to his room without him realizing I had left the living room, and then hope I had time to actually find what I was looking for. Making my way into his room, it was as lame and childish as ever. The room had toys spread out across the floor, making this quite the obstacle course for my slackened level of coordination. I headed for his desk first, figuring that beneath the crayons and manilla paper, that whatever had done this might be tucked away. As I was digging through his drawers, I suddenly felt a heavy weight drop into my own. I halted and leaned myself against the desk, feeling the warm solid that was now trapped between the back of my diaper and my buttocks. It was so gross, but I couldn't stop myself from doing it; ever since this curse, I'd been filling my pants like crazy, and often it would happen as randomly as this. No warning, no logic, just the sudden gassy descent of a full-sized steamer into my adult diaper. I tried not to let the sudden intrusion and resulting protrusion bother me, and instead continued onward with my sloppy search. I could already smell the fragrance I had created, and it made me wrinkle my nose. "Lookin' for somethin?" I heard my brother ask from behind me. I stopped what I was doing and cocked my head back, my drooly mouth agape in a stupefied guilt. I lamely shook my head, "Nuh-uh.." "Oh really? Kinda looks like you are. Looks like you're tryin' to find something to make things go back to normal, like something--" He suddenly stopped and his eyes trailed downward, "--Did you make a doo-doo in your pants, in my room?" The lump wasn't exactly subtle, even with the considerable bulk of my large diaper. But frankly, even from my own stilted vantage point, it looked like I was smuggling a softball in my seat. "..I no make poopie." My brother's face curled into a terrible grin, before he broke out into a full bellied guffaw of mockery. "Uh, dumb-dumb? Y-you're 'makin' poopie' right now!" He wasn't wrong, even if he had noticed before I had. I could feel my diaper getting heavier, and in an almost delayed way, I suddenly felt an immense pressure that was rocking my bowels. My body positioned itself without any conscious effort, squatting down with my hands using the desk as a way to balance. I didn't want to humiliate myself further, but I simply had no control over the situation; I began to push. A cacophony of dire diaper defecation began to ride the air, each flatulent note reaching a crinkly crescendo with a squishy plop and a rich rustle from my plastic-backed diaper. In physical contrast, I could feel the drool on my chest growing cold, while the filth in my pants was an ever-expanding inferno of muck. "Ugh, so gross...! You're gonna stink up my room, you big, dumb baby." My brother complained, exaggerating the point by pinching his nose and turning his head. "Too bad I can't wish my nose away, like I wished you into bein' a dumb diaper-dooker." I would throttle him if I still was capable. Unfortunately, violent actions got transformed through the filter too. Even with my size and weight, I was literally incapable of enacting an aggressive impulse. The filter liked to change my attempts at punches or shoves into sudden lumps in my seat, but then again, a lot of things seemed to end up that way. "Mom's not here, so you're just gonna have to sit in that poopy diaper until she gets home. No way I'm gonna deal with that! But, I don't wanna be too mean..." I watched him walk to his toy chest, the only sound now being the small lingering toots that were still sporadically peppering my fully packed seat. He opened it up and dug around, before pulling out a toy telephone. My brother was a kid, but it honestly looked like something more fit for a toddler. I watched him pretend to dial it. "Yes, hello? Yeah, its me. I need to make another change to my big brother, and I'm not talkin' about a diaper change! I was thinkin' that maybe he should start to like sittin' around in his dookie-pants, that way he won't have to feel so bad about it. His brain? Nah, he can keep it for now. Not like anyone else thinks he still got one." I sneered, thinking that he was just mocking my plight, but as the 'call' ended, I was having a feeling of uncertainty. The warm muck, which had filled out every inch of my diaper, suddenly didn't make me cringe in disgust. In fact, I loved the feeling! Unwittingly, my hand cupped the lumpy posterior of my poopy padding, and I pushed down to squish the garment. My brother put the phone away and folded his arms, "There, that's better. Now you can go stink up the living room for the next few hours, and I won't have to feel bad about it! Happy?" My mind wandered into the absurdity of it all, that my bratty kid brother was literally phoning it in and manipulating my existence at the most basic of whims. Logically, I knew now that he could manipulate not just my outward appearance, but the inner workings of my own mind. Aspects of my very existence could be artificially interwoven; my own thoughts could not be trusted as my own. But, begrudgingly, he had made me happy. I was in heaven with this alteration, and it didn't speak well for the future of me attempting to make any fixes to the situation. For now, I had to concede defeat in a dignified, intelligent manner. "Me made poo-poo. Me happy."