Squish Game: Round 1, Part 4

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, hypnosis, pants wetting, mental regression, masturbation/diaper sex, sissification, bondage, violence, strong language, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

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Perched up on top of a long, metal slide sat the man with a “1” on his shirt. His name was Lance. He’d been made to suffer dearly earlier when Dom, his Mistress, decided to make an example of him. Being forced to stand on a changing table and soil himself was by far the most humiliating and surreal experience of his life. Looking back, even his memories didn’t feel real.

Now that Lance was allowed to roam unsupervised, he moved to a position that suited him best. A place to watch others from a bird’s eye view. That was always Lance’s greatest strength. He was patient and strategic, prone to watching others and calculating his moves based on his environment.

From what Lance could see, everyone here was just a run-of-the-mill mobster or criminal. All except for one. Having watched the scene that unfolded between Natalie and Brett from up high, one would think his attention would be drawn to the two brawlers in the sandbox. However, he had no interest in a duo of bruits like those two numb skulls. No, his attention was centered on the man stepping back as the fight raged on. The one who seemed to have no stake in any of this. “Who are you, number 12?” he mumbled to himself.

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“Ged da fuck away fwom me!” shouted Natalie as she marched into the wooden jungle gym with Aaron following close behind.

Stubborn in his pursuit, Aaron pressed on, attempting to court Natalie into teaming up, “Den why did you save me?”

“Because…ugh!” Natalie came to a stop, folding her hands over her nose in frustration, “You wight, okie. I didn hafta save you, bud I did an I’ve been regwetting it evew since. Pwease, if you know wuhs good fo you, stay away fwom me.”

Aaron shook his head, deciding that if an alliance was out of the question, he’d need to switch tactics, “Whad about da otters? Don you tink dey’d be innerwested ta know whad an avantage you habe?” he said in the most intimidating way he could muster. He didn’t plan on resorting to extortion, but he was growing desperate.

Regardless, it seemed to have the desired effect. Natalie stood in silence, uncertain about how to proceed. By no means did she want to pair up with someone in a game like this, much less this obvious putz. Still, the idea of him running off and telling the others she had some sort of insider knowledge was too great to risk. “Fine,” she relented, holding out her hand, “Bud we don tawk unwess id’s ta do wit da game. Deaw?”

Aaron smirked, extending his hand to meet Natalie’s, “Deaw.”

*CLAP!* *CLAP!* *CLAP!*

Suddenly, both Aaron and Natalie froze as the echoes of a slow clap rang throughout the wooden playset. “How bery toushing,” said the light, nasally voice. The petite-framed person stood up from behind one of the wooden pillars with a big “4” on their chest. They snickered, “Don spose you have woom fo anudder partnew? Would be a shame if de otters knew bout dis widdwe awwiance.”

Aaron couldn’t even be mad. After using the same extortion tactics on Natalie, it was only karmic justice that he would fall victim to them as well.

Number four scurried over to meet Aaron and Natalie with a shit-eating grin on their face. “Name’s Lee, pleasuwe ta meetcha!”

“I’m Aawon an dis ish Nadawie,” said Aaron, trying to make the most of this situation. As a group of three, they would have the numbers to stack up to Brett and his crew, “We sood fin sombwhewe mo pwivate ta tawk.”

Natalie rolled her eyes, “Oh, now you cawe bout dat!” Not wasting any time, she walked over a small cubby area underneath the playset and crawled inside. After a few seconds, she stuck her head back out and frantically waved Aaron and Lee over. “Whad awe you two waiding fo?!”

Both Aaron and Lee rushed over and crawled inside the cubby.

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Over on the opposite side of the playground, Brett was fuming. “Sewiouswy, can you guys bewieve dat bitsh?!” he shouted, pacing while holding his hand to his neck. It didn’t hurt, but he was slightly embarrassed to be left scarred without getting to hit back. “Dat bitsh betta watsh hersewf! Next time I see hew, she’s dead!” He sat down on an open swing in a huff, his diaper making a delightful *poof* as he settled his weight into the seat.

“Fowget bout dat swut, les focus on da chawwenge,” said Rod, going frustrated with his unconsolable boss. After listening to Brett’s ranting for the past fifteen minutes, he was already starting to regret placing his fate in the hands of such a loose cannon. Sure, he was fit and intimidating, but he was also a low-class moron. But as long as he stayed a useful moron, that’s all that mattered.

Meanwhile, Mike was too busy blushing over the massive double diapers he was tapped into. His Mistress, Miley, had gotten a bit overzealous, deciding two diapers were safer than one. Secretly, he very much loved his thick diapers, having been a closeted diaper lover ever since he could masturbate. Perhaps that was the biggest advantage he had over everyone else.

With the other two preoccupied, Mike allowed himself to pee in his diaper, loving how squishy and warm his diaper became. He lightly pressed down on his diaper front, indulging in his kink.

“Mike!” said Brett, sounding peeved.

Immediately, Mike stemmed his stream and abruptly turned to see Brett and Rod staring at him intently. “S-Sowwy, wuh werwe we tawkin bout?”

“Ahhhh!” shouted both Brett and Rod simultaneously. Brett pinched his eyes, his patience running out, “We need to figuwe oud how to suwvive dis wound! Ged yo head outta yo assh, dumbassh!”

“Number 2! That is no way to speak to your friends!” All three men froze in place as a soft, yet stern feminine voice silenced all of them. Brett’s Mistress, Ellisa, stepped onto the wood chips with her hands on her hips. She continued, “You’ve been causing quite a lot of trouble today! I don’t need to pull you from this game, do I?”

Brett shook his head no vigorously. “N-No! Pwease, Miwth Ewissa! I’ww be good! I pwomise,” he said, his lip quivering at the thought of losing for an idle curse word or two. He bit his tongue, realizing he’d need to curb his near-constant cussing if he wanted to last in this game. He turned to Mike, his head lowered, “I’m sowwy I was mean ta you.”

Rod covered his mouth, holding back his chuckles as best as he could. There was just something about seeing Brett apologize that made him giddy. The catharsis was too rich.

“I fogibe you, Bwetty,” said Mike, hopping to his feet and placing a hand on Brett’s shoulder. Brett could be a bit mean, but he was a softy deep down. At least that’s what Mike thought.

The truth was anything but. As Brett held his head down and allowed for Mike to touch him, his mind was filled with ways to screw Mike out of the game. He didn’t care that he was on his side. No one made him feel small!

Satisfied with the resolution, Elissa gave Brett a head pat and made her way back to her spot in line. In the back of her mind, she knew that Brett’s apology was disingenuous, but that didn’t really matter to her. If she had any mind to repeat her victory from last year, she’d need to keep him focused. Her threat, while somewhat empty, should be enough to keep the loudmouth subdued.

Stewing in frustration, Brett wanted to get some space from his so-called crew. They were getting on his last nerve. If he ever wanted to figure this shit out, he’d need to get as far from them as he could. “Awwight, we can’d jus sit hewe an waid to wose. Les spwit up, boys. We wegoup hewe in ten.”

Both Rod and Mike nodded, and the three each went off in different directions, leaving Brett to have the alone time he so desperately craved. Why he teamed up with those bozos so fast was beyond him. Still, having them under his thumb instead of plotting against him definitely had his perks.

Brett moved into an area where several teeter-totters were stationed, with one seat for each contestant present. Since it had the perfect number of sides, he contemplated that maybe they needed to complete some sort of task in each area.

Climbing up on the center of one of the seesaws, Brett looked out at the wide landscape that was the playground. Everything we perfectly sectioned off into 7 areas: swings, slides, a wooden playset, a sandbox, a rope climber, monkey bars, and, of course, teeter-totters. If his theory was correct, all he needed to do was pretend to play in each of the areas to clear this round. He just needed to go find one of those idiots to be on the seesaw with him and he could clear the rest on his own.

*GUUUUUUUUUURRRRGLE!*

Doubling over, Brett clutched his gut. A warm, bubbling sensation began to build in his intestines. It reminded him of the time he got food poisoning and was shitting his brains out for several hours. His eyes shot wide. It had to be the castor oil’s doing. Even after being made to poop his diaper on purpose, the oil was doing its best to fill his bowels back up again. He needed to get through each area fast, or else…he didn’t even want to think about that. With a hand pressed against his butt cheeks, he toddled off towards the meet-up point.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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