Story #94: Lose-Lose Situation

Story #94: Lose-Lose Situation (Content Tags: Messy diaper, wet diaper, humiliation, domination, unfair perception of main character's intelligence, treated like an idiot, treated like a baby, ongoing story, slice-of-life) (Part 2 to 'The Learning Disability') Reactions from his stepsiblings hadn't been great. Nora had dragged him out of his room and downstairs to show to her other kids. She would go on to explain that due to his 'mental disabilities', Finn needed to return to diapers and that they would need to learn to pitch in to help. It was mortifying for the boy; to be standing there with the puffy garment on full display, while the woman poked and prodded at the different parts of it, so she could explain how to check him or fix his tapes. The woman only barely mentioned that Finn would still be using the toilet, briefly touching on the fact that he'd need help with his diaper for that. Lily had looked like she'd already expected it, but still had that smug look of victory. Meanwhile, Marshall was genuinely shocked, and a little uneasy looking about the whole thing. Each of their reactions to the news was able to give a lot more insight than Finn would have guessed. For Lily, it cemented his anxious theory that the girl was in her mother's ear about how Finn should be treated. She must have already known about the diapers; she might have even been the one that pushed them as the sensible next step. For Marshall, it seemed more obvious that he was a little more sympathetic to Finn's situation. He'd been the sickly 'prop' to foist up beforehand, so he knew the shame and misery of being manipulated; to be wielded like a trophy. On the other hand, this was an opportunity to fully abdicate that position and force it upon the younger boy. Either way, his siblings weren't going to be the ones to come to his rescue on this one. No matter how ridiculous it was, they wouldn't dare cross Nora, lest they get her wrath. His father, who was rarely in the country, let alone at home, wouldn't be of any help either. Without any support, there was no way he could resist this injustice alone; he could only hope that she grew bored of this charade and moved on from him. The first evening wasn't so bad. He asked a couple of times, once from his stepmother and once from Marshall, for some help with using the 'big boy potty'. He may have to wear the embarrassing things, but that didn't mean he needed to prove Nora right by actually using them. He hoped that enough time keeping them clean would make it more obvious how unnecessary they truly were! Around eight, his stepmother came in while he was watching cartoons with Marshall and Lily. "Alright, Finn, time for bed." The woman said plainly, singling him out from the rest of the kids. "Huh? But it isn't even nine yet...!" He fussed, glancing over at the clock on the wall. His usual bedtime was around ten! "Yes, but I think an earlier bedtime would do you some good. Now let's check your diaper and get you in some jammies." His sister snickered and waved the bib baby off for 'beddy-bye time'. Finn felt his face get red and hot, but he lowered his eyes and trotted behind Nora to go get ready for bed. The woman checked his diaper, front and back, then looked surprised that he'd kept it so tidy all day. "Wow! That's a good boy. Maybe we need to get you a sticker chart, huh? Would you like that? Getting a nice big sticker for not going boom-boom or tinkle in your pants?" She mockingly praised, lifting his shirt up off of him. "...I don't need stickers." He murmured in return, too afraid to get angry at her condescending tone. "Oh, don't be silly, Finn. I know a special little boy like you must *love* stickers." The woman scoffed, reaching down to pinch his cheek. She raided his drawer for some pajamas, and then motioned for him to raise his arms. Finn gave her a quizzical eye, leaving his arms down at his sides. "Arms up, Finney. Let's get these PJs on." "...I umm...I can put them on just okay, on my own." That had come out a little less confident than he had intended, but that was partly because of how out of sorts it felt to have her trying to help him. "I know you want to feel big, Finn, but it'll be faster if I help. Now...Arms up." Some of that subtle rage had returned; the woman didn't like to argue. With a quiet sigh and the feeling that more of his autonomy was being taken from him, the boy lifted up his arms and let her put the pajama top on him. She then got the matching bottoms and had him sit on his bed, where she could slide them up his legs and over his diaper. "...There we go! All ready for night-night. I'll see you in the morning." Fantastic. Now he was left wide-awake in bed, more than an hour early than what his norm was, and he hadn't even gotten a chance to use the bathroom one more time. He'd usually go right before he went to bed, but everything had happened so quickly, and he didn't *feel* the urge to go right now. With concerns how things would escalate from here, it took him a while to find enough peace to sleep. If anything, his anxieties burned him of enough energy to make him finally succumb to the sandman, though those anxious energies would still pervade his nightmares. Finn woke to the shaking hand of his stepmother. Groggily he got up, and the woman pulled his pajama pants off and put a finger in the front legband to give him a check. "You're soaked...That can wait until after breakfast though. Go on and get a move on." The boy slunk out of bed and quickly grew conscious of the saturated diaper that was pushing his thighs apart. It was better than waking up in a puddle, and Nora sounded a lot less angry about it, but it was almost more humiliating than soggy sheets. He went down to the kitchen, struggling somewhat in walking around with the sodden thing taped to him. The front of the diaper had faint discoloration and was fairly swollen; sagging against his thighs, but the tapes stayed steadfast and true. Breakfast was more complex than usual. Typically, Nora made them the bare minimum, if she was cooking them anything at all; today though, there was a full spread waiting for him! Eggs, bacon, waffles, oatmeal, and fruit! And a tall glass of milk to wash it all down with. Finn was suspicious, but he wasn't going to let a large meal go to waste, so he sat down with a slight squish and picked up his fork. "Looks like the dummy needs his diaper changed." Lily chirped, giving his soggy diaper a smirk. "I don't see why he couldn't have gotten changed before coming to the table." Marshal bemoaned, looking a little disgusted at the swollen and yellowed state of the garment. Finn shoved a forkful of egg into his mouth and meekly shrugged. It wasn't *his* idea to wait until after breakfast! Or to even wear this dumb thing in the first place. While he stuffed his gullet, his stepsister continued to watch him, as if she was judging his every move. As soon as he fumbled his fork and dropped some food on his pajama shirt, that was when she pounced again. "...Geeze. Such a dummy that he needs a *bib*...Probably needs a sippy cup too." She pointedly announced to the table. "Finn, sweetie, you need to do a better job of keeping your food off your clothes. I already told you I don't want to have a lot of extra laundry because of your condition." His stepmother added from over by the sink. Lily gave her stepbrother a malicious little smile and Finn shrank in his seat. The girl knew what she was doing, and Finn knew what she was doing too; she didn't plan for diapers and an early bedtime to be all that Finn had to suffer because of his diagnosis. Finn slowed down for the rest of the meal. He wasn't going to give her yet more ammunition to use against him, so he ended up being the last of the children to finish, and just in time too, because his morning BM had come knocking about ten minutes ago! He handed his dish off to Nora and fidgeted, "Umm, I need to use the bathroom before I get changed..." "Need to potty? Okay, well I'm doing the dishes, so ask one of your siblings to help you, okay?" She told him in an unconcerned tone, as if his wanting to use the regular toilet was something silly, like a child putting on their father's work boots. From the sound of things, Marshall had already stepped into the shower upstairs, which meant the downstairs bathroom was his only choice. It also meant that Lily was his supposed option to be 'helped', but Finn decided it to be unnecessary; he was about to be changed out of the soggy diaper anyways, so why would he need help putting it back on? He got to the bathroom door and realized it was closed. A jiggling of the doorknob confirmed that it was locked too. "Umm, Lily? Can you be quick? I really gotta go..." "I'll be just a minute!" Was her reply, though as the minutes began to pass, that was sounding more and more like a lie. His bowels were churning wildly, and the boiling cramps he felt told him that his time was running short. The boy clenched his buttcheeks and put a hand to the back of his diaper, using the other hand to pound at the door. "C-come on, Lily! You're taking long on purpose!" He accused with a squeak, suddenly feeling a rumble against his palm from a wayward toot he couldn't stop. She didn't respond this time, and Finn was getting desperate. Farts were slipping past his defenses and rasping wetly into his diaper, and the tumultuous bubbling in his lower gut was picking up in intensity, transforming into a violent percolating. He hit the door with his fist again, "Emily! I gotta POOP!" It wasn't entirely his fault here. He usually went before bed and then again before breakfast; the sequence-breaking that his stepmother had forced was throwing him off of his routine, and for a boy like him, that would have devastating results. Maybe he couldn't see that the derailment was part of the plan; with all of the malicious motives floating around, why wouldn't this be a part of the scheme as well? Planned or not, it was having a huge effect on the diapered boy. The cramping in his belly was becoming far too much for him to handle, and all of the gas, while a mild relief, was actually making it harder for him to maintain his control. He was sweating and fidgeting, one hand on the door and one hand pressing tautly against his soggy bum. Little did he know that Lily was right on the other side of the door, sadistically waiting for her brother to lose control. And lose control he did. The pressure was simply too much. With a lamenting moan, that turned into an infantile grunt midway through, his body gave a full shudder and stiffened up. "N-nooo...N-noo...I'm...Mmmphh!" The semi-solid shame began to flood the back of his diaper, heralded by the trumpet of his own explosive flatulence, and the garment rustled loudly in return. The hot droppings quickly began to pile up in the bottom of the wet diaper, causing the babypants to puff out and sag with the weight of their new occupants. "..P-pooping..." Finn could feel the warm poop pressing up against his rear and even inching toward his underside; the sensation filled him with shame and relief all at once. He had no choice but to let go of his control and simply allow his bowels to fully evacuate themselves. In a very long feeling twenty seconds, the deed had concluded, and the smell of his own poop was teasing at his own nose. Relief was replaced by panic. Finn just pooed himself! Pooping his pants had been what had pissed his stepmother off enough to buy diapers in the first place, and this would only embolden her to take things further! He needed to hide this somehow, he needed to get out of here! No dice. Moments after he'd soiled himself, the bathroom door finally opened, with Lily smiling mischievously coming out. "All yours. Need help with your diapee?" She knew that it was too late for Finn to use the toilet. After all, that had been the whole point if her holing up in there for as long as she had, but she wanted to milk his humiliation for all that it was worth. The girl gave an exaggerated sniff and wrinkled her nose, "Uh-oh, I think the retard might have done a poopie in his diapee..." Finn's face burned red. "I-I...no...I wouldn't..." "Sure smells like a poopy diaper out here. Maybe you're just too dumb to realize that you made a mudpie? Or maybe the autistic retard *likes* having a big icky poopie in his pants?" The girl viciously mocked. Lily put a finger in the air and spun it, "Turn around, Finn. Let a big person check your diaper, just like mom showed me how." Finn remained petrified like a statue, with both of his hands attempting to cover his smelly rear. "N-no! Leave me alone!" His resistance was not what she had wanted out of him. The little girl was a reflection of her terrible mother, and her own narcissistic rage was modeled directly after the evil woman that she so meticulously emulated. Those tendencies meant that Lily abhorred being denied, especially when it was coming from someone that she considered to be so very lesser than her. She slapped him. Right across his blushing face. "Now, Finn. Don't make me ask again." It took a lot to not start crying, and as tears tingled at the corner of his eyes, he could feel his lip involuntarily warbling. With a sniffle and a hand now nursing his stinging cheek, the boy begrudgingly began to slowly turn himself around. "Good boy. Now I want you to take your hand off of your diaper; a dummy like you doesn't need to be touching it." The girl commanded. Finn let go of his rear and presented the whole sordid sight to his stepsister. The diaper had a distinctive sag to it, definitely more-so than it had at breakfast, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Still, Lily put her hand on the back and gave the poopy padding a firm squeeze. "...Eww! You lied to me, Finn! You said you *didn't* make a poopie in your pants. So you either lied about it, or you couldn't even tell, which is it?" It felt like a trick question. It sounded like a lose-lose; if he had culpability, then he'd get in trouble for pooing himself and lying about it. If he *didn't* have culpability, then that meant he really did need to wear diapers like a retard. Lily was intentionally doing this; she was trying to shatter his life apart, and he had no defense against her. No matter how he answered, he'd be paying for it.