Story #45: I Was a Preteen Poobrain

Story #45: I Was A Preteen Poobrain (The last story this month that has this particular method of braindrain; might be something to revisit in future stories if anyone cares for it.) (Content Tags: Messy diapers, bullying, excessive retaliation, mind being merged with a messy diaper, brain drain, diaper sniffing, protagonist becoming totally obsessed with poopy diapers You should always be nice to littler kids. This advice goes double for the ones that are way, *way* smarter than you. Because if they *are* way smarter than you, then you're going to be on the receiving end of something way worse than anything you could think to do to them. For me, that involved becoming the unwitting and unwilling participant in a science experiment that was really just my baby brother's way of putting me in my place. Its not like I did anything to *really* deserve it either. Maybe I teased him from time to time, or used my size to push him around a tad, but he essentially retaliated to a pebble with a nuclear strike. It started last week; in a time where I wasn't obsessed with dirty diapers, nor was I creating them myself. My brain was still totally normal, as average as average gets, and not mutated into some horrid hybridization of intellect and a poopy diaper. Oh, yeah, I should probably explain my little brother. He's what I'd call a 'baby genius', and not like those stupid movies. He's smarter than anyone else I know, and probably smarter than anyone else you would know either. He's not even pottytrained yet, and he's already intellectually lapped me several dozen times over. He doesn't let anyone else know though. I've tried to tell my parents and my friends about how smart he is in actuality, but nobody believes me. Not hard to understand why, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. He acts like a normal little twerp for everyone, but when its just me and him, he doesn't hide what's really going on in that melon of his. He's always making gizmos and gadgets, usually just stuff that he thinks will be fun, and I'll often try to push him down and take what he's made. I always make the mistake of not figuring out how it works either, and then since he makes them just look like baby toys, I look like a loon when I claim to people that they're actually sophisticated inventions. We butt heads over it a lot. He likes messing with me, and I can never leave that unpunished, so we're in an endless cycle of harassing eachother. The only difference being that I'm the only one getting in trouble for it, because again, everyone just thinks he's a dumb little baby. I guess I took things too far the other day though, so my brother saw it fit to finally break the cycle by 'winning' in a more absolute way. I'd lost my temper at him, since I'd gotten grounded again for something that *he* had done! In my fit of rage, I not only smashed several of his inventions, but I'd also hung him up from the waistband of his smelly diaper, in what must have been one heck of an icky, mushy wedgie. I'd taunted him, as usual, but I had maybe been a little more mean. A little more crude. I'd been giddy to point out that his poo-packed Pamps were evidence enough that he wasn't nearly as smart as he thought he was, especially when I was in 'big boy undies' and he wasn't. My diatribe had gone on pretty long, and I'd really hammered home how gross, and stinky, and dumb they made him. It was the only thing, besides my size, that I had over him. So I basically spent ten minutes emphatically talking about his dirty diapers in the most juvenile manner possible for a preteen. To the point, that from an outside perspective, I probably must have sounded pretty obsessed with them, though it really just was my own inability to mock him on any other grounds. And I guess he took all that to heart, but not in any way of self-improvement. No, he didn't plan to better himself...He planned to *worsen* me. The way he would do it? With the same putrid, poopy Pampers that I'd had my tirade about. That incident was what lit the fuse, but what I did next was what really messed me up. I was still pretty steamed at him the next day, so while I was watching him, I wouldn't let him out of his highchair until he finished all what I put in front of him. I'd found all the jars of mashed prunes that we had, and I just kept putting one down in front of the other, knowing the gastrointestinal distress it would cause him in the coming hours. I mocked him further, telling him that he'd be spending his day loading his diapers like a drooly dummy, and that I wouldn't be changing him at all. He seemed irritated, and certainly uncomfortable after he finished the last jar, but there was still a glint in his eyes that suggested I was only digging my grave deeper. I didn't think too much of it, but I did go to take a little nap afterwards, satisfied that I'd probably ruined his day with all the pantsfilling he'd be preoccupied with. I actually woke up to my final moments of being 'normal', with his puffy tush prodding against my face, and his sing song voice about how much I had messed up by being so mean to him. This wasn't the first time I'd been woken up by a dirty diaper in my face, since my genius baby brother was still an immature terror, but this would be the first time that it was the prelude to something so much worse. I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn't listen to me. I wasn't bound in place by anything obvious, but my body was clearly stunned by something, likely another one of his stupid little gadgets. "Wake up and smell da'....MMPHHH!" **BRAAAAAAP!** "POO-POO!" The tiny terror cackled madly, after grunting and blasting his Pampers with a gassy rhapsody. I immediately cringed and tried to turn my face away, but it was futile. "Ughh! Cut it out! That's so nasty!" He tilted his head back to look at me and gave me a toothy grin. The expression he had made it clear that my punishment at his hands wasn't something so cut-and-dry as being forced to smell his rank fumes. No, that was just extra. "Don't worry! You're 'bout to like my dookie diapees a lot more, trust me. All you're gonna be thinkin' bout is poo-poo diapees. This is all your fault too! I wouldn't have thought it up if you hadn't talked so much about my dirty diapers! And then all the prunes...Well, you'll see..." He reached down and stuck a little tab to my temple, and then connected it to a tab that was on the puffy white seat of his Elmo-printed babypants. "I'm gonna turn your brain to poo. This'll make your mind get combined with my diapee as I go potty in it, and since you made me eat so many prunes, your brain is gonna be totally overloaded with new 'data'." He let out another sloppy fart, the flatulence sputtering wetly right near my nose, and I heard something squishy drop into his diaper with it. It'd begun. True to his word, his invention was working exactly as he'd described it to me. With each gassy eruption of filth in his diaper, I could feel my mind becoming more and more clouded by intrusive thoughts about poop. Instead of shying away, I was starting to actively sniff at his ever-sagging seat. It wasn't just pleasant, it was divine! My IQ was getting obliterated, but my genius brother saw no reason to stop, and with all the prunes I'd made him eat, it was doubtful that the tot even could. I was beginning to drool on myself and dumbly giggle at every squelching plop that I was an intimate audience to. At some point during it, I'd felt compelled to join in on the fun. So while I obsessively stuck my nose against the dirtied diaper, I began to push and allow a big hot load to go into my own pants. It was an indescribable experience, and one that'd I'd be repeating as often as humanly possible. "Nnghhh! I BAKED POO-BROWNIES! MAKE BIG, BIG POOPIE!" I heard myself exclaim while in the middle of pushing out the cavalcade of semi-solid lumps into my shorts. My vocabulary had shrunk tremendously, and appropriate to what my mind was being merged with, they were almost all related to what was in my seat. As my brother finished his business, and the merger concluded, I was left with nothing on my mind but poopy diapers. They were the only thing that really mattered to me now, and they took such a precedent, that most of my big boy thoughts had been totally overwritten. Obviously I'd be returning to diapers full-time, which would make me extremely happy, and I'd be much, much less critical of my brother's own diapers now. If anything, I'd treat them as a gift and bow down to get my fix of the odor. He'd turned me into a preteen poobrain, and had gotten the big win on our petty fraternal rivalry. My life would be going through some...*Interesting* changes in the near future. (To be continued?)