Story #41: Mushy Mind, Mushy Bottom (1949)

Story #41: Mushy Mind, Mushy Bottom (1949) Content Tags: (Messy diapers, brain drain, pharmaceutical drugs, mental asylum, shock therapy, mild bondage) Part 1: Intellectually Miscast (https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/84084985) Part 2: Broken to Fit the Mold (https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/85720091) *Storyline Recap:* (Some prick named Ansem works at a mental asylum. He's the mastermind of a conspiracy to wrongfully commit kids to the asylum, so that he can make bank off of the fat government stipends for such patients. A troublemaker named Franklin gets targeted and is committed, where he's thickly diapered up and kept on a steady cocktail of pharmaceuticals and high-grade laxatives, to keep him drooly and smelly. Franklin is currently awaiting an inspection that will soon take place, hoping that he can stave off his drug-induced stupor and spill the beans about what's going on.) ----- Ansem was furious. He'd been running this grift for years now without any issue, but his newest 'patient' had gone and mucked up more than just his diaper. His immediate inclination was to have Franklin sent off to 'Room 307' for some much needed 'adjustment' at the lobe-end of an ice pick, but reason won out in knowing that such a move would be too suspicious. Franklin was sure to be named directly by the whistleblower, so whomever came to perform the inspection would want to take a look at him and his files. The paperwork was less of a problem, since it could be spun however Ansem wanted, but an examination of Franklin himself would prove too volatile a situation to have any permanent damage shown. Even the pharmacological abuse would have to see some adjustment for this type of visit. He couldn't dose Franklin at the same irresponsible amounts that he'd been having his orderlies dole out, especially if the inspector planned on any type of blood test. No, Ansem would have to dial the dosage back to something more reasonable. That wasn't to say that Ansem didn't intend to both silence and punish the little rat. "I want patient 74 to begin electroshock therapy; I'll personally attend his first session to diagnose what voltage is appropriate." Another problem arose with an immutable reality: not everyone who worked here was in on the scam. There were more real patients than built ones, and a majority of the staff had no idea of the seedy scheme he'd run all these years. He'd made a pretty penny off of destroying minds, but if he was to be caught, he'd more than lose his license...He'd be spending the rest of his days busting up rocks on a chain-gang. He'd sooner erase every last fragment of Franklin's mind, before he allowed himself to go down for this. Back at the padded room that the boy was sitting in, with the uniform he'd grown accustomed to these last few weeks: dunce cap, straitjacket, and an absolutely immense cloth diaper that was packed with several hours worth of hot mushy droppings; the door was opening, with Ansem's handpicked orderlies coming to get Franklin. They winced at the encroaching odor of his filthy diaper and one of them commented on how the boy's manure-packed pants were attracting flies; it was mercifully decided that he'd get a fresh diaper before heading to electroshock therapy. As they got him cleaned up and rediapered, his drug cocktail was beginning to wear off and clarity was returning to his previously muddled thoughts. It was the first time in a while that he'd return to a normal cognitive function, unhindered by mind-altering pills. They led the boy down the hall, having to go slowly as he was still dazed and diapered to a degree of disability in his mobility. "...Where...We...going.." He muttered quietly, those being the first words in weeks that had been intelligible to any real degree. The burly white-shirts didn't answer him. Instead, they marched him right into the room, and led him to a grim looking chair. Clinically and without care for his discomfort, they lifted him into the chair and began to restrain his wrists to the armrests. "That'll be all, orderlies. I'll call for you when his session is over" Franklin looked up, suddenly seeing Ansem poking his way in, with a malevolent glint in his eyes. The men left the room, and Ansem began to affix an odd looking headpiece to his captive prisoner; Franklin was confused, and it wasn't just the drugs that were very nearly out of his system. "You've been a real thorn in my side, runt. Your little stunt could jeopardize my entire operation here...Well, could have. There will be someone coming to investigate claims that you are apart of, so we can't keep giving you the full cocktail." Franklin was surprised to hear the wicked man be so open with his malfeasance in this matter; he wasn't playing coy or dancing around the topic at all. Hearing his meds would be adjusted was enough to give him some hope though, so that perhaps he wasn't sedated and in a constant state of soiling himself every day. "...And a surgical procedure is too far, for *now*. So, instead, we're going to make you nice and agreeable with some electroshock therapy." Franklin frowned, what was electroshock therapy? His inquiry would immediately be answered when Ansem sent a mild shock through his brain. Just enough to make him notice it. "Mmph..! Y-You just wait until that inspector man gets here, and I tell him everything you're doing!" He found the strength to call out, his mental faculties having fully returned, just in time to be hindered once more. "You're not the first one to make things difficult, and I know you won't be the last. I always fix these little problems though, no matter how far I have to go." He flipped the switch again, this time sending a stronger current into Franklin's mind. The boy felt his thoughts spasming, and in the same instance, he could feel his bladder suddenly spraying the new plush set of diapers. Ansem laughed at Franklin's expression. "We just need to keep moving our voltage up here...A few sessions like this, and you won't be telling anyone anything for quite a while." Franklin snarled, struggling against the restraints. "You can't break me that easy! You're going to get what's coming to you!" The switch flipped again, and Franklin could begin to understand what he was up against here. With every burst of electricity, he could feel white spots growing in his mind; the 'treatment' was causing some massive confusion for him. His remarks became less focused after each shock to his brain, and he was losing track of how much he was saturating himself. "Mmn...ngghh...B-brain still...thinky fine..." He groaned, eliciting no sense of sympathy or apprehension from his tormentor. "I think just one more..." Ansem raised the voltage significantly and flipped the switch one more time. The helmet sparked to life and began to zap Franklin; during which, it was as if his IQ could be seen diminishing in real-time. He began to drool and rip big juicy sloppin' farts to blast away at his diaper like a cannon. "Mmmrrrggghhhh! P-p-P-pooo...! POOOP! POOPIE!" Franklin found himself shouting helplessly as his bowels began to fully unloaded into his diaper. A violent torrent of stool began to cascade into his seat like a boiling river of sludge. Each mucky deluge was accompanied by loud flatulent fanfare. His thick cloth diaper was rapidly becoming a smelly cauldron of steaming hot mush. Ansem laid off the juice, watching as the mentally addled youth continued to shamelessly defecate on himself, looking every bit the absolute moron that he'd falsified his record to reflect. "Now, how does that feel Franklin? I think that was a good start." The boy cocked his head, his mouth coated in slobber and his eyes completely devoid of any signs of intelligence. His diaper had begun to stain brown, and even now, he hadn't stopped farting in it for more than two seconds. "Poo...poo-poo....Poopie make butt squishy!" A few more times in the chair, and Ansem wouldn't have to be worried about Franklin telling anyone anything that didn't have to with his own excrement.