Tale #132: Incompatible Exchanges (Part 3)

Tale #132: Incompatible Exchanges (Part 3) (Part 3 to the 'Incompatible Exchanges' Storyline) (Content Tags: Messy diapers, mild scat, humiliation, braindrain, body switch, brothers, perceived as mushbrain) Erin watched with a frown as Lenny traipsed around the living room in a body he'd once been able to call his own. The buffoon had already had a blowout earlier in the morning, marring his romper with poo, and so how he was in one of the genius's speedsuits. Ever since the IQ test, where Lenny had found it so amusing to write the answers with his own diaper droppings, he couldn't be trusted to have easy access to that 'inkwell'. Erin could remember a time, years ago, when Lenny had done that with his own fingers. When Lenny had gotten in trouble for making such a gross mess, but he'd grown out of it as he got chastised and punished for it. Now that Lenny was in a new body, it seemed like he felt free to act as unhinged as he liked, as if there no longer were any consequences for him. If Erin thought more highly of Lenny's capacity for malice, then he might have considered that the raw hedonism was intended to destroy Erin's life more completely. As it was, Erin thought it was more that Lenny didn't feel as if he had to restrain himself, since he wasn't living his own life anymore. It was shortsighted to be sure. If Erin couldn't fix the machine, then Lenny would ultimately just be debasing himself, since Erin's life would be the one he permanently had. Maybe it wasn't malice, but instead was something to deter Erin from wanting to switch back. If Lenny effectively enough destroyed Erin's life, his reputation, then maybe he could convince Erin to stay put where he was. As if making the habitat too toxic for the native species to return to its home. Regardless of the 'why', Erin had to accept that Lenny was acting far worse as a 'genius' than he had as a retard. Just yesterday morning, the mushbrain had smeared the contents of his diaper on the wall, as if he was a two year old. The day before that, he had gotten caught pulling diapers out of the pail to plant his nose in. Earlier in the week, he'd let his dirty diaper drop to the floor and he'd streaked around the living room. He was acting far worse now than before. Every day they spent in one another's body was another day where Lenny made it harder for Erin to stomach the thought of returning. Even if Erin returned to his genius, then he'd be dealing with the worst fallout imaginable. He'd have to convince everyone that his lapse into complete and total mental retardation had been a temporary fluke, and that he didn't belong in SPED in a dirty, fly-swarmed diaper. Progress out in the garage had continued to be slow going. Keeping a continuous stream of thought was difficult, and if he 'overheated' his brain, then he'd have a mental crash that impeded his progress. It'd been bad enough that he had to scribble down on a piece of paper where he'd been at whenever he felt the crash was imminent, so that he didn't have to spend another hour tracking down where he'd gotten. To his own humiliation, he'd had to take a note from his brother a few days earlier. His pen had run out of ink at a critical juncture, and he'd felt like he was heading swiftly for a massive crash. Whenever these mental crashes occurred, he was effectively lobotomized for a minimum of five to ten minutes, sometimes longer; he would evacuate his bowels completely and legitimately become as hopelessly retarded as Lenny's brain should have been. It would also prove grave for his memory of what he'd been doing before the crash, which is why he had to take so many notes. But without any ink in his pen, and the crash imminent, he'd had to resort to the same 'creative' writing utensil that Lenny had gotten in trouble for. Erin had been disgusted with himself, to stick his fingers down the back of his diaper and to then finger paint his thoughts with the warm mush as his medium. Having run out of room on his paper, he'd had to use his own crisp white diaper as a canvas for his icky brown equations. It'd been just in time though, as he'd suffered a major crash right after. With his intellect zeroed out during the reboot, the genius would then go on to repeatedly dump into his already mucky diaper, until he was on the verge of a blowout. Whenever he would mentally return, he'd find himself in a much fuller diaper and with a drool bib that was completely soaked through. It was a little terrifying, especially because in that empty-headed of a state, he couldn't be sure that he wouldn't do things that were far more disgusting than Lenny was already known for. Reading the front and back of his poo-scribed diaper, the boy had at least been able to continue his work exactly where he'd left off, but it was still so painfully slow that he sometimes wondered why he should bother. Erin was becoming less convinced that he could finish fixing the machine before the additional brain damage stacked up and made it impossible. Erin's concerns had made him less focused on the things that Lenny was doing. As far as Erin could tell, Lenny was living his life similarly to how he had been before the switch. He had all of Erin's big boy toys to play with, but it wasn't as if he could effectively use Erin's computer or take advantage of Erin's life in any novel way. No, Lenny was just living as Lenny, except with a new face. Happily farting and pooping on himself, watching preschool cartoons, and constantly snacking. Erin had to watch as his former body put on the pounds, making the two boys more similar in pudge. Lenny had been taken to neurologists and psychologists to figure out what was 'wrong' with 'Erin'. There was still the prevailing theory that it was a lab experiment gone wrong for the genius, but they only had 'Lenny' to trust on that assertion. As far as anyone could tell, the genius's brain wasn't damaged, though it was reading a far lower level of activity than it should have been. There was nothing medical to be done. Whatever the cause, it was beyond any doctor's ability to fix. There was no telling if the state was temporary or permanent. All the doctors could say was that 'Erin' was stuck indefinitely in a state of extremely low cognition. He was a baby-brained nimrod, possibly forever. For Lenny though, this was still considered an improvement beyond imagination. Sure, he might still be the imbecile he'd always been, but he felt so much more capable now. As he'd adjusted to his new body, he'd found himself having a much easier time with his coordination and dexterity, and the processing speed of his thoughts was incredible! All of those thoughts were that of a mushbrain, but there was no delay. He didn't get stuck in the molasses of his own mind, and he could talk freely without pauses, though his vocabulary was still pretty abysmal. He was also slowly starting to adjust to the bodily signals that would eventually grant him some limited form of continence, if he so chose to practice it. Lenny may have been frustrated at the start, whenever he'd realized that he wasn't the genius he thought he'd be, but he had grown to appreciate his brother's body, even with the limitations still in place. It was unfortunate that he'd decided to burn everything down so early on, since he was slowly beginning to grasp what Erin had feared him discovering the most. Lenny was capable of learning. With Erin's brilliant brain, Lenny could actually increase the scope of his knowledge past the preschooler stage. Lenny could, with enough time and effort, become as normal as he had always dreamed. His vocabulary was already improving rapidly, as was his grammatical ability and reasoning skills; he didn't completely grasp it yet, but he was becoming more intelligent. If he better knew that, then he likely wouldn't have tanked that IQ test on purpose, nor would he be living this hedonistic life of a shortbusser. If he understood the opportunity he'd been given, then he would be acting as a responsible steward of the genius brain and body he now resided in, instead of sniffing inside the diaper pail or proudly smearing his own feces on the wall like a petulant toddler. Likewise, Erin was becoming aware of the opposite for himself. He could sense that his mind was slowly degrading inside of this poobrained prison. Every day he stayed inside of Lenny's body, in his brain, he became more like his brother. He couldn't overheat this useless lump in his head in perpetuity, not without completely burning it out and himself in the process. Erin had found himself starting to mentally drift without immediately realizing it; the sensation of having a dirty bottom had started to grow on him, as absurd as it sounded. He'd snap back to reality and realize he was drooling over fingers that he'd jammed in his mouth, or he'd been groping the squishy diaper around his waist. Mannerisms of a mental midget like Lenny, but not for a genius like him. "You got da coolest clothes, bro." Erin looked up, his ruminations ruined by hearing his old voice. Lenny was standing in front of him, hands on his hips in a triumphant stance, as if he felt like a real scientist while wearing the red speedsuit. Erin grimaced, recognizing it as the very same one he'd been wearing when the switch had happened. Erin had literally watched as Lenny helplessly defecated in the very outfit he was now so proudly donning. All the pleasant memories of that uniform had been tainted. All the tireless hours of turning wrenches and screwing in screws, all in the effort for scientific progress, and it was all meaningless because all he could associate was that giant lump that Lenny had immediately made. That'd been the first hint for Lenny that his assumptions about the machine had been very wrong. "Dat s'pposa be mine." Erin practically snarled in return. "Not s'pposa poopie it..." Lenny smiled knowingly. The dimwit had already had the capacity for jealousy and spite, as those had been the emotions which had driven his decision in the first place, but they'd been less refined then. Utilizing all the beautiful wrinkles at his disposal now, Lenny's emotions had grown more complex, as if they could be filtered through a thousand tiny pipes instead of one huge sewer pipe. The boy gave his own padded butt a pat, "Not supposta poopie in it, huh?" He suddenly tensed up and strained, his legs shaking from the sheer force he was trying to exert. A crackling emanated from behind him, and the diaper rustled as a baseball sized lump appeared in the seat of the speedsuit. "Little late for that! Dat's okay, you can poopie in *my* clothes too." Something Lenny still hadn't gotten completely used to was that his new body was not so accustomed to pooping in any stance or situation. Lenny might not have been pottytrained, but Erin's body definitely was; initially, the nerve signals had been scrambled from the mind switch. This accounted for why Lenny had crapped himself within seconds of being in Erin's body, because Lenny's 'mind' was used to evacuating with very little prompting. Putting that mind into that brain had caused the disconnect. The same was true for Erin, who intellectually had been pottytrained for about a decade, but his mind hadn't meshed well with the brain's wires. The difference was to say that Lenny was in a massive room where sounds were too far and quiet to hear, while Erin was cramped in a tiny room that was way too loud and chaotic for any signals to be discernible. Lenny was actually adjusting to that problem a lot better than Erin was. It was probable that about half of Lenny's dirty diapers or more were intentional, whereas Erin hadn't once intended to soil himself. If Lenny wanted it, he could be fully pottytrained in a matter of weeks, if not days, but for Erin it would take years, if not decades. That was the primary difference in their situations. Lenny could only improve from where he was, but he had little interest to try; Erin could only degrade and devolve from where he'd started, and it would only be expedited by all the effort he was putting forth. It was pure poetry; a fitting tragedy of ironic fates, as melodramatic as 'Jekyll and Hyde' or 'Macbeth'. "I dun' wanna poo-poo yo' cwothes!" Erin shrieked, while Lenny indulged himself by grinding the fresh lump in his seat against the arm of the couch, effectively mashing it flat and spreading it throughout the back of the diaper as much as he could. They actually shared a sense of fashion these days, which wasn't something that could be said for the last several years. Erin had received Lenny's wardrobes, which much of looked fitting for a really big toddler, instead of a grade-schooler. Likewise, Lenny had inherited all the 'cool clothes' that Erin had once worn, except now that was shifting. Lenny had ruined all of his briefs and many pairs of shorts in the first few days after the switch. Bleach could only so so much, and after a return to diapers, there'd been no point to keep anything that'd been soiled. Lenny still had all of those 'cool' t-shirts of Erin's, but as he was letting himself get thicker, those would have an eventual expiration date too. With the 'issues' Lenny had been having in keeping his diaper alone, a lot of his wardrobe had shifted to clothes that would make sure his diaper would only be tampered with when being changed: sleepers, rompers, and the like. Thus, the two dressed eerily similar these days. Except today, Erin was clad in a onesie of all things. One that simply and affectionately said 'Stinky' on the front of it. His diaper was plain as day through the sides of the onesie, already swollen and sodden from the constant trickle he had no hope of halting. "You should try likin' it. Poopy diapers are the best!" Lenny chirped with a grin as he plopped onto the seat of the couch. "Dat's the only thing I miss. My body made way bigger poopies." Erin was acutely aware of that. One might say he was *dreadfully* aware of it, because not only had he been Lenny's brother all these years, but he'd also now effectively *become* Lenny. The poopy diapers felt like eighty percent of his existence! Walking, talking, sleeping, bathing... During any of those moments, he had a high chance of dooking in his diapers. "Yuh. Me know, me--" Erin suddenly lurched forward and spread his legs. His body always knew what to do before his brain had a clue what was happening. He heard himself blow a massive fart, and he could feel it sputtering like a chainsaw too. Then, as if just a drive-by evacuation, he let loose a python of poo that slithered rapidly into his diaper, until the garment stopped tenting and instead the smelly serpent was forced to coil up into a putrid pile underneath his bottom. If he'd been in his own body, this would no doubt have required a plunger to exorcise, but in Lenny's body it was just a random, inconsequential BM. It'd cut off his sentence, but all and all it had only taken fifteen quick seconds to pinch the whole leviathan off. As involuntary and unpredictable as a sudden sneeze. "Jus' like dat! Super big! An' you din't hab' ta' try at all!" Lenny gushed, having watched from the nearby sidelines with a look that almost betrayed envy. Erin let out a sigh of relief and stood back up straight. It felt like a slap in the face that Lenny was squandering what he was sitting on; that Lenny was still so single-minded about dirty diapers, when he had a chance at normalcy. Erin's biggest grievance right now was that he was stuck inside a Kafkaesque nightmare, while Lenny's only complaint was that he wasn't filling his pants as much as he used to. Erin turned away from his brother and started to waddle off to get his freshly pooed diaper changed, while Lenny had no such compulsion to do the same. He planned to get himself changed and then he'd head back to the garage for a couple of hours. The work had to continue and he needed to go faster. There was a time crunch here, and Erin couldn't see the clock. If he wasn't quick enough, then he'd need to get used to being 'Lenny' for the rest of his life.