Story #90: A Mess Made by Being NEET

Story #90: A Mess Made by Being NEET High school graduation had been almost three years ago. Where had all the time gone? It didn't take a genius to figure *that* out, all it took was one look at the slobbish dwellings of the twenty year old glued to his computer screen. What had started out as a 'gap year', had turned into an apathy towards doing much of anything except lazing around and playing games. No college, no trade-school, no job, no ambition. His stepmother was positively sick of it. She'd had to raise Nat alone when his father had passed, the boy only having been thirteen or so then, and she'd been sympathetic to him for much longer than he really deserved (or at least as sympathetic as a cold woman like her could muster). The only reason that she hadn't kicked him out was because she received money from his trust for his continued 'care'. It was actually a bit of a sore spot for her, that so much of her idiot husband's money had been put aside for his lazy brat of a kid. The only thing that made the contrast worse was that she had a daughter not much younger than Nat, and a son who was about a decade his junior, and they were both significantly more worthwhile than Nat was. The man, if he could be called that, had no life skills to speak of; he couldn't cook himself anything to eat, he couldn't do his own laundry, and he had no idea how to budget his money or his time. If anything, especially by his love of 'chicken nuggets' and the skidmarks in his underpants, he was just an oversized toddler that'd somehow been allowed to graduate. He was the poster child for 'no child left behind', and this wasn't some recent development either. She'd known him since he was eleven, and even then he'd been an embarrassment. The boy's father had been permissive to the point of negligence, and that showed no greater than now that the boy was doing nothing to progress his adulthood along. Nat had at least been a little more structured when he was still in school; he'd socialized and gotten out of the house, he'd had to work his mind and body in some kind of way. With that structure gone, he'd started to get a little doughy and the only socialization he did was either online or when he went to meet his dealer for some weed. It was frustrating. Her meal ticket had accidently punched his own ticket, and instead of setting her up with a big payoff, she had to look and see that the vast majority of it was left to a boy that'd do nothing worthwhile with it. The terms of the large trust gave Nat a small monthly allowance, as well as a sum to the stepmother for living expenses, but Nat couldn't access the bulk of it. He either had to meet the requirements of having a degree and three years at a job, or reaching the age of thirty-five, and the woman wasn't sure which would come first. Why would Nat even bother? He got enough of a monthly allowance to live comfortably, and he had no bills to worry about, so why not just play video games all day in his underwear? There was only a couple of little clauses in the trust agreement that the stepmother could take advantage of. The first gave her the option to set the rules of his boarding as an adult; this meant, that if she so pleased, she could make his housing conditional. She'd rarely taken advantage of it before, since it did mean that she'd be taking a hit to her own monthly stipend as a penalty. The other clause had more to do with his competency, which was fairly standard for a trust like this, but it had made her wonder what standards needed to be met there. She could have him evaluated by the state, if she ever wanted to, and if he was found to be incompetent, then she'd be the one who was given stewardship over the sizable trust. So as far as everything stood now, there were hundreds of thousands of dollars that were just sitting in an account, the majority of which wouldn't be accessible for another fifteen years. Meanwhile, her daughter was having to go to community college and her son wasn't being afforded all the luxuries that he deserved. All because of that lazy good-for-nothing that was taking up space in her house. The situation really came to a boil when she'd gone to ask him about going out and finding a job; stepping into his room wasn't something that she liked to do, unless it was absolutely necessary, because of how disgusting it always was. While in there, trying to lay down the law about at least getting his foot in the door somewhere, she'd discovered that the slob had actually been emptying his bladder into one of the giant styrofoam cups that had once held soda. It was a step too far for her. It was the sort of unsavory behavior that one might have to punish a child over, not someone on the cusp of being able to legally drink! In no uncertain terms, she told him that he had a week to clean up his room and find a job, or else she'd be changing the rules of his lodging here. She already knew that he wasn't going to abide her requirements. Why would he change now? He likely didn't take any of her threats seriously, and that was fine, it would only make things easier for her to justify what would come next. So while Nat procrastinated the week away, only doing the bare minimum to tidy up his living space, and putting absolutely no applications out, she prepared for his inevitable failure. When the final day had arrived, she again marched into his room and grimaced at the lackluster job he'd done to get things in order. He'd spent an hour, at most, over the last week; much of the debris was stuffed under the bed or crammed in the closet. Again, much like a small child. "So, did you find a job, Nat? Did you even make a resumé?" "Well...No, but, uh...I was looking into doing some stuff with crypto, or streaming.." The woman shook her head, "A *real* job, Nat. Not some online nonsense where you pretend to work. From the look of your room, I'm guessing you didn't apply to be a janitor anywhere..." The boy frowned and slumped his shoulders, "I just don't see what the rush is to go be a wage-slave somewhere. I already have everything I need." The woman got irritated at that, "You only have everything you need because other people do everything for you! You can't feed yourself, or clean up after yourself, or even do your own laundry! Even your little brother can do all of that, and you're twice his age!" She massaged her temples, "If your father hadn't left you any money, you'd be starving on the street right now." "But he *did* leave me money, an ass-load of it!" "Of which you only get a small monthly amount, since you refuse to grow up. If I kick you out of this house, that won't be enough money to rent an apartment or buy groceries with." Nat looked like he wanted to argue, telling by how red his face was getting, but he had no argument to make. His stepmother was right on every count. He took a moment, and then mumbled the only counter he could think of: "...Yeah, but if you kick me out, then you won't be your little monthly kickback from dear old dad either." She'd been expecting that. The money she got from the account was genuinely necessary to give her the lifestyle she'd become accustomed to, but there was no way she'd let Nat know that. Instead, she shrugged it off. "A good deal of that money goes toward taking care of *you*. I make plenty as a realtor to not miss a single dime of it." Her stepson looked taken aback by her sly bluff, and he was beginning to realize that he didn't have any bargaining power here. He looked down, the resignation plastered on his face, "Fine... What the hell do you want me to do?" She told him to wait a few minutes and then left the room, allowing him to stew in his own defeat. When she returned, she was carrying a couple of large bags, which she placed on the unkempt bed. "You want to act like a spoiled little toddler, Nat? Then that's fine with me, but you're going to take the bad with the good." She chastised, reaching into the bag and pulling out a large package of adult diapers. "Until you get your act together, you're going to be wearing these. All the time, no exceptions. That means that you're no longer allowed to use the toilet either, though maybe that's not much of a stretch for you, mister pee-cup?" It took a few moments for it to even register. It felt so completely out of left field that Nat was left speechless at first. Finally, still in disbelief, he found his voice and spoke out: "You can't be serious. It's not like I'm some kind of retard or anything!" His stepmother gave him a coy smile. "Like I told you, Natty. If you want to be treated like a grownup, then you need to act like one. You can either follow my rules or you can stop living under my roof." That quelled his furious indignation, at least for the moment. She took the opportunity to open the package and pull one of the crinkly white garments out; she hadn't invested too deeply into this plan yet, so she'd only gotten some generic medical ones from the pharmacy, and they were pull-up style instead of taped. "Go ahead and try it on. We can discuss the other changes to you living here later." The woman had expected that this would have been the wakeup call that Nat needed to get his shit straightened out. She was literally making him wear diapers, like the big helpless baby that she saw him as, so that would surely 'inspire' the lazy slob to get off his fat ass and start proving himself. That would not prove to be the case. Nat might have put in a little more effort those first couple of days, in getting his room clean and putting out some half-assed job applications, but his fervor looked to die off very early. His stepmother hadn't pushed any more new rules yet, and as embarrassing as it was, he couldn't deny the convenience of just being able to piss himself at his desk, without having to aim into a cup either. Being pull-up style also meant he could take care of changing them himself, though he wasn't very diligent at that part. After the woman's younger son complained of a strange odor in the upstairs hall, she'd gotten a diaper pail for Nat to at least keep that ammonia smell contained. After a few days of this, the woman was irritated at the lack of impact her punishment had brought to Nat's daily life. She was also convinced that Nat had been breaking her rules about using the bathroom, since she'd yet to see a soiled one come from the boy. That meant it was time to turn things up a notch. She began to taint Nat's food, at least the stuff she made for him, with higher and higher amounts of fiber. She also instilled a new rule, that Nat would have to start eating his dinner at the table with the rest of them, instead of sequestering himself up in his room. That first evening of the new rule, she spiked his drink with a fast-acting laxative, and made sure he had access to it before the meal was even fully ready. Nat looked nonplussed to be attending dinner, and his stepsiblings looked surprised by his presence; they'd be surprised about much more by the end of the meal though. The woman forced small talk at the table, in an attempt to break the awkward vibe that permeated the room. Her daughter spoke of writing an essay for her college course, her son talked about watching a new cartoon, and Nat gave curt answers about how his 'job hunt' was going. It continued on like this for a little while more, until after she had already plated up a second helping for the young man. Not long after a few bites in, he started to look a little uncomfortable in his seat. He started to stand up, "I think I'll eat the rest upstairs..." His stepmother shook her head, "That's not what the rule is, is it? Dinner is down here with the rest of the family, and I already made you another plate, so you need to finish it." The leering look she gave him was enough to get him begrudgingly back in his seat. She already knew what his issue was; after all, she'd given him triple the recommended dose on that fast acting laxative, and combining that with all the recent fiber intake... The younger of the sons had been talking when it happened. Nat must have been trying to relieve some of the pressure with a sneaky fart, but the man had gotten far more than he bargained for; there was a disgustingly wet fart that thundered the back of his britches, and his face turned bright red. Nat had just soiled himself at the dinner table. Not a brown streak or a small slipping piece, but a powerful geyser of bubbling muck. The younger boy at the table wasted no time in erupting into laughter, while his stepsister reeled in disgust at the noise; neither of them thought it had been anything more than a fart, but the smiling woman at the head of the table knew better. "I think you might need to change yourself, Nat. Do you think you can handle that?" The woman's youngest child looked confused by the frank statement and he looked between the two. "Wait, did Natty actually go in his pants?" Nat grimaced and started to stand up, "...No, I didn't. May I *please* be excused?" The woman tapped her chin, "Well, if you don't need to change, then go ahead and finish your dinner. You still have some food left on your plate." "You can't be serious...I really need to--" **BLLLAAAAARTT!** He stopped in place, his face twisted in pain from the horrible cramping in his bowels that was producing these rude sounds. The young man could feel another sloppy barrage of mushy turds assaulting his adult pull-up. His evacuation was so explosive that the poor man suffered a horrendous blowout right there. The woman had already made her way around the table to see things more closely. She didn't have the same look of shock as her children, understandably so, since she'd gone to lengths to reach this result. "That sounded like more than a fart, young man." She turned him around and saw the brown staining on the back of his pants. "...And you ruined these nice slacks." He was in too much intestinal discomfort to stop her probing, and she didn't hesitate to pull his pants down right there in front of everyone. "...Hm. I think you might be needing bigger diapers, Nat. These just aren't thick enough to handle an accident like this. Why don't we go get that stinky butt changed, hmm?" It was the start of the end for the young man, and it would be an equally visceral display for the rest of his transformation at the hands of his greedy stepmother. If he wanted to live his life like an incompetent child, then she'd make sure such a lifestyle was suited to what he deserved. What would Nat look like a few months down the line? Or by next year?