Tale #107: 'Lesson' the Load ((Part 2))

((Continued from the first part)) "Oh, hey, you're in early! Good, I was going to ask you about something." Ben looked up and saw the boy was mysteriously gone, while one of his colleagues had let himself in through the open door. He'd only been dazed a moment, so how had he missed the brat leaving? "June and I were thinking that we'd throw in on some donuts and kolaches this Friday, you want in?" Such a casual question to have lobbed at him, at least compared to the small gauntlet he'd just been put through. Ben tried to shake things off and he started to nod his head, the mop atop going for a flop. "Y-yeah, let me just grab some cash..." Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, Ben realized something crinkly was underneath. It wasn't a Goodnite that he'd forgotten to take off either... He yanked out his wallet, which was now colorful and sporting a superhero on it, and he pinched some bills from it. Meekly, he extended his hand toward the other teacher, who took it with first a smile, and then a wrinkled nose. "Cool...Hey, uh, you might want to take care of that before the students get here. I didn't know you did *that* in them too..." Ben's cheeks caught fire at the suggestion and the revelation that his padded and accident-prone state was apparently common knowledge to the other teachers, even though his briefs had only become a diaper in the last few minutes. When his reality changed, it was obvious that people's memories of him changed too. "Y-yeah, thanks for the tip..." The smelly boy muttered, before the teacher would take his leave with a chuckle and a wave. Regardless of the circumstances, as bizarre as they were, Ben at least knew he needed to focus and somehow get himself cleaned up. If he was a known diaper-boy, then that must mean that he kept spares, right? And as humiliating as it would be to put another pair of babypants on, it was better than the alternative of teaching twenty eight year olds while hauling a load around in his bulky britches. Slowly, but cautiously, he got out of his desk chair. The pile of poop in the back of the diaper wasn't very cooperative with all the movement, regardless of how delicate he attempted to be; the squishing sound was noticeably audible and the sensation of the hot muck was that it was shifting and spreading. It made Ben nauseated, though he wasn't usually so squeamish. As his feet touched the ground, he could also tell that he'd gotten a lot shorter. The difference between thirteen and ten was a precipitous one, much like the difference between thirteen and sixteen had been. Any physical evidence of puberty or adulthood had completely disappeared from his appearance, with only his own mind remaining as it was, and there were even doubts to cast about that. He waddled over to his bag and unzipped it. Inside was what he'd been looking for: a couple of plain-white parcels of padding, and a soft-pack of baby wipes. It made little real difference, but he did notice that the puffy garments inside weren't actually full-blown diapers, but what appeared to be jumbo-sized Pull-Ups. It felt silly to feel a surge of pride about that; to feel that by virtue of being in Pull-Ups instead of diapers, that he was still mature. It brought to mind the commercials he'd seen in his youth, and how pitifully inaccurate the tagline always seemed: 'Mommy, wow! I'm a 'big kid' now!' The part of being a big kid seemed a little deluded when it became clear that a Pull-Up was just a diaper that could be tugged up and down. His Goodnites had a similar vibe to them, but they were noticeably thinner and marketed specifically for bedwetting, whereas the disposable briefs in his bag were built to handle the exact infantile pantload that he now struggled with. He took his bag and began the awkward toddle out of the room. It was too risky to try cleaning up in his own classroom, especially if any more teachers or students showed up unannounced; he needed to take care of this icky situation in a place with some privacy! The teacher's bathroom seemed the most obvious, but it was a little further away than he would have liked. Closer was the boy's bathroom at the end of the hall, but he ran the risk that some early-bird student could wander in while he got changed. The nurse's office didn't seem like a good option either, because even if his status was already known to the rest of the faculty, that didn't mean his ego could bare validating that. Another option, and one that was closer, was nestled in a nearby set of classrooms. At the Kindergarten level, the classrooms each had small single-stall bathrooms, where the toilets were lower to the ground and more easily accessible for kids who were still relatively new to the whole 'underwear and potty' thing. Kindergarten also started later than the other classes, so the teachers usually weren't in until a little bit later. The cherry on top was that he knew those bathrooms had a trashcan that was no stranger to baby wipes or used Pull-Ups, since every Kindergarten class had one or two pottytraining stragglers. Each Kindergarten class also had a welcoming window into the room, which made it easier for him to pick one where the lights were off, where a teacher hadn't yet arrived. He got himself situated in the small, colorful bathroom of the glorified daycare room, and began to unbutton his slacks. Sliding them down his ankles, he could finally see what had felt so bulky between his thighs; the garment was the same as what was in his bag, except this pair was clearly weighed down with the big dump that he'd taken. Ben blanched at the worsening odor and groaned quietly. "When did you last pee your pants at school?" Ben's blood ran cold at the familiar voice and he nervously turned to see that the strange little boy was standing behind him in the open doorway of the bathroom. Something was different this time though; the boy was much younger, looking now like he was five, instead of looking like one of Ben's students. It was obviously still the same boy, but just made miniature, as if he was camouflaged for the environment. "I w-was in third grade and I had too much juice at lunch..." The memory was shorter this time, as the incident hadn't been as notable as some of Ben's other more embarrassing chronicles. He'd gotten too excited at recess and had waited far too long to go to the bathroom, which had been an infrequent issue for him at an earlier age, due to the ADHD he would later be diagnosed with. He'd hosed his shorts on the playground, but it'd been away from other kids, and he'd only had to let a teacher and the nurse find out about it. Regardless of how smoothly it'd gone then, it was in the present becoming a new issue, as he could feel the front of the training pants growing warm and swollen. The front was turning a faint yellow and beginning to sag between his thighs, while the muck in his seat became even more of a mess to manage. "Getting changed in here isn't new to you, is it?" The little boy's grin broadened, his eyes like those of an apex predator about to mangle its prey. The boy was right. He hadn't gone to *this* elementary school, but in his own Kindergarten, the setup had been remarkably similar. His delayed pottytraining had meant that he'd come to school in Pull-Ups, and that he'd still occasionally had both wet and messy accidents. At least a dozen different occurrences flashed in his head, where his Kindergarten teacher had led him into a bathroom just like this, to get his muddy butt dealt with. A short, yet powerful fart echoed in the small room, which helped to bring Ben back to his senses; just in time to feel his knees bending and his bowels releasing again into his poor, dirty trainers. The mushy pile grew in size and the Pull-Up bulged further out to accommodate the load; there was a mirror in the room, so he got to watch himself as it actively happened. He looked so pitiful now. Shrunken down into a nine or ten year old, wearing disposable briefs and helplessly filling them to the brim, while being harassed by this little brat and his questions! "W-who are you?! Why won't you leave me alone?" He groaned, his gut aching and only feeling relief from him actively pushing to further soil himself. No answers, just another question in return. "Why did your teacher put you in a diaper?" Ben had worn Pull-Ups for nearly the entire year that he'd been in Kindergarten, only firming up his potty skills enough for undies by the end of the school year. They'd been practical enough to wet, but the poopy accidents had been less accommodated by the insufficient padding; he'd had a few blowouts in his time, and dirty trainers were undeniably more difficult to change standing up, than on his back in a diaper. His teacher at the time hadn't thought it appropriate that Ben wasn't fully reliable at his age, so things had already been uncomfortable between them. After suffering two blowouts in one week, she'd gotten irked enough to buy a package of diapers to put in the bathroom for him, without bothering to consult his parents about it. From his memory, her thought process was that if he was going to use the Pull-Ups like diapers and she was going to have to keep changing him, then she might as well make it easier on herself. It came with the added bonus of shaming him into compliance. The lights in the classroom suddenly turned on to match the lights on in the bathroom, and the little tormentor disappeared as if he'd never even been there, which left Ben standing alone in the bathroom with his slacks around his ankles and toots still blasting into his trainers. "Classes haven't even started yet; couldn't you have tried using the bathroom?" Dana stood at the door-frame, hands on her hips and a disappointed look on her face as he glowered down at her young 'colleague'. It was a stark contrast to the flirty way they'd interacted before this, when he'd been a full-grown man, instead of a little boy with boom-boom britches. "Honestly...My three year old does a better job at keeping his pants clean! I don't think those training pants suit you. Those are for kids who at least *try* to make it. What kind of example are you setting for your students?" Her diatribe was lost on Ben, who was cherry-cheeked and compelled to continue grunting like a toddler. He wasn't exactly disproving her point, as his Pull-Up sagged lower and lower with the weight of his filth. She brushed past him and opened a cabinet under the sink, taking out of it a large, white rectangle. "I think it'd be best for you to wear a real diaper from now on; at least until you can prove you're ready for the potty. I already spoke with the principal about it earlier in the week. This *is* becoming a daily problem, so a long term solution is the only reasonable thing..." It'd been bad enough when he thought he'd be wearing a Pull-Up under his slacks to teach, but now he wasn't even being allowed that? How had his life become so absurd in such a short time? "N-no! I don't need diapers! R-really, I can make it to the--" **bbrrrrrAAAAAAAAAAAAP! PLORP!** His seat ballooned again, almost comically so, as the whining tyke pushed his trainers to their max capacity. The back had become lumpy, distended, and very brown; whatever remained of his argument he'd had for big-kid pants had just been deposited into the back. His life, much like his pants would soon be, was changing. The 'how' was definitely linked to the mysterious boy, but that still left the 'why' a mystery.