Story #83: Making Shapes

Story #83: Making Shapes (Part two of 'The Poo-Poo Doll') (Content Tags:Creepy antagonist, stalker behavior, karmic braindrain, mushbrained antagonist, messy diapers, dark storyline) On a list of things that Pascal would rather do than this, one might find something as extreme as giving himself a swirly. It still chapped him that after what had clearly been harrassment, where he had been the victim, that he was the one being punished. Sure he'd said some rude things, but his words paled to the offputting things that Renard had been saying (and doing!). But because he was 'special', Renard got a pass, and Pascal had been told that he must just be misunderstanding what Renard was trying to convey; Renard was just being 'friendly' and was too stupid to realize that his idea of 'friendliness' was inappropriate. That meeting with the principal over it had basically been a kangaroo court; it didn't help Pascal that his modicum of fame was factored into the principal's opinion of him. The man in charge was a traditionalist, and thought that Pascal's little streaming 'hobby' was not only a distraction, but something that gave him an inflated sense of self-worth. No less than three times did his activities online come up, along with accusations that being a minor e-celebrity had made him think that he could treat people however he wanted. Funnily enough, there was no truth to that; Pascal enjoyed what he did, but he was as down to earth as any of the other kids in his class. Having transferred to a podunk town in the south, Pascal had grown accustomed to being treated a little differently. The kids around his age didn't give him many issues, but adults were less kind, thinking him to be the spawn of some 'coastal elite' family, just because he'd come from Seattle. It'd been worse when he first moved, but over the time that he'd spent here, he felt that he'd shifted opinions of a lot of the people that were wary of him. Clearly the principal, and his teacher, were not among that crowd. Pascal vaguely remembered what Renard was like before whatever affliction had destroyed his intellect; the boy had been quiet, and he'd creeped Pascal out a bit by how much he found the boy staring at him. He recalled that Renard had tried to strike up conversations with him a few times, but the boy's lackluster social skills had made them increasingly short discussions. At most, Pascal was aware that Renard had been a fan. In fact, when Pascal had his first day of class, it was Renard who had exclaimed that the new kid was a 'famous streamer'. In a way, Pascal could almost bring himself to thank Renard for the shout-out, since it'd been a major boon to his popularity on day one. But then Renard had whatever it was that happened to him, and one day he showed up to school as 'Renard the Retard'. It'd been shocking to their class, to see a classmate become something so infantile and repugnant, but that surprise had worn off a year later. Nobody was looking at Renard with the pity over what he'd once been; now people looked at him as if this was his natural state, and they were caught between disgust and amusement over his daily antics. Pascal really hadn't thought about him much since then. Other then farting and pooping in his diapers on the hour, or the loud declarations he'd make about when he was doing it, the moron didn't really impact his life. He was little more than scenery and a laugh during the drudgery of school. But now *this* had happened, and Pascal was forced to confront actually thinking about what must be rattling around in this nimrod's mushy head. He had to spend the week being Renard's 'friend', or face suspension. That meant both *at* school, and *outside* of it. Which was why he'd been dragging his feet down the street. He was supposed to go and see Renard at his house, to give him some 'tutoring', as if the demonstration with the crayons hadn't already confirmed that Renard was completely incapable of learning anything. The long walk from his house had given him plenty of time to bemoan what was coming, but it'd also given him enough time to inject some much needed positivity. Perhaps his principal and his teacher were right? Maybe he'd been too harsh in his own assessment of the situation? The drooling pantsfiller had come across as a creep, but that wasn't really his fault with the bowl of oatmeal he called his brain. Pascal just needed to be firm, yet polite, in explaining why Renard's unsavory comments made him feel uncomfortable. Barring that, there was also the fact that Pascal assumed there would be some level of supervision to protect him. As awkward as an encounter with Pascal's caregivers would be, since they'd know the reason why he was coming, their presence would surely act as a barrier to whatever weirdness Renard was cooking up! The boy plodded up the walkway and rang the doorbell, stuffing his hands in his pockets and nervously shuffling his feet around. After a few minutes, a woman answered the door, and after a moment of identifying who Pascal was, her expression turned dour. "H-hello ma'am, I'm here to uh, 'tutor' Renard?" He greeted, teetering on his heels and giving the woman a bashful smile. "...Yes, Pascal, is it? I was surprised to get a phone call from the principal about the things you said to my son." She let some tension hang in the air, her arms folded sternly across her chest. "I don't know how they talk in the big city, up north, but down here? We don't talk like that. I can tell your mama doesn't whoop that behind of yours, and she don't take it to church on Sunday neither, but while you're in *my* house, you *will* show some respect." The diatribe slapped hard, even though there was certainly a good deal of hypocrisy in the woman's words. While she obviously was upset about her precious, blameless son getting called a retard, it was unlikely that she stretched that indignation to anyone else in a similar situation. She probably used the word quite liberally herself, just so long as it wasn't in conjunction with her son. "... Y-yes, ma'am...sorry ma'am.." Pascal mewled, feeling completely dressed down by her idea of southern hospitality. "..I shouldn't have said that stuff, it was mean.." The woman didn't react to his apology, instead directing him to enter the house. "Renard is in his room, I'll go get him. Ya'll can study at the kitchen table while I work on supper." Pascal gave a nod and went to put his backpack down at the table. The session had already gotten off to a horribly awkward start, but maybe that meant the worst was behind him? Meanwhile, Renard had been happily holed up in his room. As usual he was lost in his own depraved daydreams, his simple mind working overtime to imagine a reality where Pascal was every bit the drooling moron that he was. The messy abode had a permanent stench of dirty diapers, courtesy of the two diaper pails required to keep up with his output, and while anyone else would be repulsed by the odor, Renard absolutely reveled in it. That all encompassing smell actually worked to his benefit in another way now. Since the whole room reeked of poopy diapers, it made the 'dirty diaper doll' he was constructing completely hidden to the nose. What were a dozen dirty diapers unguarded by the pail, when the pails themselves were so frequently packed to the brim? He kept his secret little 'project' hidden away in his closet, surrounded by a veritable shrine of his devotion to his obsession. The incomplete 'poo-poo doll' was the centerpiece, but old photos of Pascal surrounded the smelly thing, as well as the many different drawings that he'd made, both before and after the accident. Renard even had a few articles of the boy's clothing, snatched back before his incident. If Pascal saw the shrine, there was no doubt that he'd bolt and take whatever punishment came his way. The way that Renard obsessed over him was insanity, and becoming a pantspooping retard had done little to dull that total craziness. There was nothing good that could come from wherever this was going. When the boy's mother came to collect her son, his eyes lit up with glee at the name that she'd tossed out. The woman was ignorant to the extent of her kid's madness, so she only took his excitement as meaning that he treasured a friendship with this bully. She didn't like Pascal, but she of course wanted her son to be happy. At home, Renard didn't wear a ton of clothing, since the modesty was unnecessary and it got in the way of checking or changing his diaper. So he came into the kitchen, waddling broadly, with his diaper on full display and a drool-stained tank top that was probably a size too small. His mother sat him down at the kitchen table and told him to try his best, before giving Pascal another warning look and going to start on dinner. Both boys were speechless, for different reasons. For Pascal, he was shocked at how slovenly the retard presented himself at home, and a little embarrassed to see the bulky diaper just out in the open. For Renard, he was overcome by his infatuation and left staring intently at his tutor. Pascal finally noticed the look that Renard was giving him and he cleared his throat to clear the air. "U-uh, hey Renard...I wanted to apologize for what I said yesterday at school, about uh.. W-well, you know..." "Tardie?" The nose picker specified, not sounding upset by the crude terminology; if anything, the term was exhilarating for him, as if it was an accolade for what he now was. "Y-yeah, that... Umm, why don't we get to work. It looks like your homework is about shapes." Renard grinned widely and continued to stare while Pascal got the paper placed on the table. Who could care about some stupid homework assignment when the object of his affection was sitting mere inches away? When someone as important as Pascal had come to Renard's own house to apologize and spend time with him? Surely that must be a sign that Pascal wanted to be a mushbrained mudbutt like him, that he must want to snoof Renard's poopy diapers! "So...this one, is, y'know, a square...Right? You understand that?" Pascal gently asked, like addressing a two year old, while pointing his finger at the colorful square on the page. Those eyes remained blank at the explanation, and Pascal quietly sighed. "..Okay, umm, well now about this one? Rectangle...It's like a long square. Make sense?" Renard looked at the shape and formed a sly smile with his drool-coated lips. He reached down toward the front of his cumbersome diaper and tapped a finger against one of the heavy-duty tapes that kept the garment in place. "Like dis?" The tutor nodded slowly, thinking that Renard might understand the concept, even if through an unconventional connection. He was mistaken on what the subtext was though; Renard wasn't simply confirming that his tape was a form of rectangle, he was trying to flirtatiously ask if his idol 'liked' his diaper. "..You wan' tardy-pants?" Renard hooked his finger on the tape and started to peel it open. Pascal panicked and scrambled forward to stop Renard from going any further to expose himself. "N-no, I don't...! L-let's keep that on..!" He bashfully squeaked, putting his hand over the tape and looking Renard in the eye. "Hehehe...You touch tardy diapee.." The dummy giggled, some warmth starting to spread around the front of the garment, his bladder helplessly releasing. "Feel warm pee-pee." Pascal could feel not only the heat, but the vibration of the urination in progress, and as he tried to retract his hand, Renard suddenly clamped his own hands down on top to keep Pascal's palm pressed against the swelling front of the pissy diaper, all while keeping his eyes on him. Pascal let out a surprised little yelp, mortified that he was being forced to do this, and Renard pressed down harder, before finally finishing when his mother gave a little call to ask how the lesson was going. "Me learn reck-tang-gal!" Renard chirped, while Pascal finally retracted his hand and bit his lip. Pascal wondered if he should say something to the woman, but after their tumultuous introduction, he sighed and decided to keep it to himself. "L-let's move on to the next shape..." The boy murmured with pink cheeks. He attempted to get Renard to identify the triangle next, to which the moron stuck his finger in his nose and began to dig for treats. After a few more attempts on the triangle, he was about to move on when Renard ripped a juicy, muffled fart in the back of his soggy diaper. "Ugh..." Pascal recoiled at the nasty sound, hoping dearly that his student here wasn't trying to make him another 'present' like he had in class yesterday. Another sloppy sputter made him think that there indeed about to be a fudging in those Huggies, so Pascal decided he could at least avoid being present for it. The boy got up from the chair, and turned toward the kitchen, "Umm, Mrs. Renard's mom, c-can I use your restroom?" "Uh-huh. Renny, show your little classmate where the potty is!" She hollered back, busy cutting up vegetables. Renard got up from the table too, his diaper sagging slightly from the soaking he'd done. "Okay, mommy! Me show him potty!" This really wasn't what Pascal had wanted, since this had been more about escaping the impending poopies that were set to drop in the retard's diaper. He couldn't very well relay that though, and so he had little recourse as Renard grabbed his hand and began to lead him out of the kitchen, little toots slipping out with every step. Renard kept looking back over his shoulder at Pascal, to which Pascal just kept a sheepish expression. "S-so uhh, we still have some shapes to go over, but uh, some of them might be a little too complicated for you... Maybe I need to talk to the teacher about what work you're capable of.." No response to that, just the same dopey grin and the continued path toward what Pascal hoped was the bathroom. "..I mean, you probably know what a star shape is, or a circle, but I don't think you'll be pointing out what an oblong ovoid is anytime soon..." "Circle like Pascy's booty cheeks!" Renard chirped, well informed of the round shape that he'd spent so much time gawking at, especially these days when he fantasized that things would become even rounder with some puffy Pampers. The tutor got red in the face, "S-sort of, I guess, umm... T-that's not really appropriate though, to say about your classmate..." Renard stopped short of the restroom, "Me know da' udder' one too!" He claimed confidently. "..Wait, really? An oblong oval?" That definitely didn't sound like something that the tard could grasp, especially when his response to identifying a triangle had been to start picking boogers out of his nose. "Uh-huh! Me show you, Pascy." He ominously replied. Before Pascal could react, Renard was forcibly pulling him closer by the hand, and then pushing him up against the wall. He then turned and stuck his padded butt right up against Pascal, making sure to keep the boy completely pinned. "Tardee make shape for you!" "W-wait, what?!" Renard had no intention of waiting, instead he loudly grunted and let more flatulence rumble his jumbo-sized Huggies. Shortly after the gassy blast, Pascal could feel something warm getting pushed out against his hand; it took a second to register, but it was unmistakable that Renard was indeed making the shape he said he would, and that fairly solid shape was bulging right against Pascal's palm. There was another, louder grunt, and snot erupted from the moron's nostrils just as the turd tripled in size. "HHHNNNGGGGGGGG! UUUMMMPFFF! TARDEE MAKE FUDGIE FOR YOU!" Came strained from his slobbering lips. Pascal was beyond disgusted by this point, even more-so than he had been yesterday when he let loose an angry tirade against the tard. He was literally being forced to hold onto the backseat bulge of this huge diaper, and right as it was being freshly produced at that. It was additionally confusing to him that Renard was calling *himself* a retard while doing so, making it even more unfair that Pascal had been punished for saying it. The boy let out a loud sigh as the python pinched, and the diaper sagged a little more with what had to be two or three pounds of poo that was now steaming in the trunk. He took a moment and then gyrated the lump some more against Pascal's palm, while turning his head to give him a sly look. "You like big poopie? You want sniff?" Pascal hardly knew how to respond to that, and he was cut off by the boy's mother calling from the kitchen and asking if her son had shown Pascal where the potty was. In a technical sense, Renard had done just that; he'd shown Pascal where *his* potty was, and very intimately at that. "Yes mommy!" Renard called back. He then stepped forward to allow Pascal off the wall, though not before giving him another drooly grin. "Me showed you shape *and* potty. Dis gonna be *your* potty too...Pascy gonna be diapee poo-tard like Renny. Tardee together." The matter of fact way he was saying that was unsettling, and it was getting harder to brush this off as Renard just wanting friendship. Pascal sputtered out something and stumbled away from the wall, immediately taking the first doorknob he saw and taking it, which coincidentally was the bathroom he'd sought in the first place. Pascal closed himself in and locked the door. He needed a moment to process all this. Meanwhile, Renard was patting himself on the back for being so suave, and for creating another component for his doll; Pascal had a 'connection' to this diaper now, which would be needed to finish Renard's mushbrained version of voodoo. Just a few more steps and Renard could make the poo-poo doll, and then Pascal would truly belong to him.