Long Story #5: Tricks and Treats (III. A Spare Pair of Pumpkin Pants & IV. Take Only One)

III. A Spare Pair of Pumpkin Pants (Content Tags: Diaper, plastic pants/diaper cover, fear, humiliation, pantspooping and wetting, forced diapering.) "Nice pumpkin-pants, squirt. They're a perfect fit for those Huggies of yours." It should have come across as ironic to call him a 'squirt', whenever the one tossing the stones lived in a very fragile glass house. While the two boys may have been separated by several years in age, their difference in size was far more negligible. Calvin might have been nearing the start of middle school, but he could only boast an inch at the most of size superiority over his first grade neighbor Jake. Winning by a hair for height, but losing by means of weight, as Jake was densely built and Calvin was feathery. "You can borrow them if you like 'em so much. You can have a diapee too." Jake retorted with a gap-toothed grin. Calvin met the suggestion with a disgusted scowl, "No thanks, some of us are smart enough to have figured out the toilet. I'll be going as a ninja, not as a stinky pumpkin baby." It was Jake's turn to scowl, his own pride not quite as resilient as one would expect; he wasn't embarrassed by the way he was dressed, that much should have been clear, but he didn't like being talked down to by his neighbor. It felt especially cutting whenever Calvin was throwing out jabs at his intellect, as if his lack of toileting was a question of mental capacity, rather than a matter of stubborn hedonism. "Ninjas are s'pposed to be quiet." Jake grumbled, turning his head away from the older boy, with a slight tinge of pink hitting his cheeks. "Silent, but deadly. Just like what you do in your pants." Calvin snickered, before tapping his finger at his chin, "...Well, maybe not the silent part. You can get pretty noisy whenever you're tooting away." That was met with an irritable grunt, Jake no longer continuing their battle of wits, if flinging these dull barbs could be called as such. Calvin didn't push any further, rather enjoying that he'd gotten the obnoxious brat to quiet down. It was bad enough that they were sharing a couch right now, let alone the fact that they'd be sharing a route for trick-or-treating. Their parents were close friends, and though the disparity in age was great, that didn't stop them from having to spend an inordinate amount of time together. Jake had an older sister, who was a little older than Calvin himself, but there hadn't been the same push to make them hang out; this was likely because Jake's sister decried him as gross and immature, which...Well, she wasn't without merit in saying that. In terms of maturity, even if he would refuse the notion, Calvin was definitely closer to Jake, than he was to Jake's sister. That hurt extra hard, because Calvin absolutely had a crush on the girl, which ironically had only led him to act more like a buffoon in her presence. It was a vicious cycle, and it always ended with another layer of resentment toward the diaper-dooking dork beside him. "So...Uhh... Is Jasmine gonna go trick-or-treating with us? What's her costume gonna be?" Calvin broke the relative silence, leaning over to get closer to Jake. "Yeah, but I don't think she's gonna get any candy. She's dressin' up as a princess or something." The boy shrugged. The thought had Calvin gushing, wondering how she might look, but then the other part of the statement elicited some confusion. She wasn't getting any candy? Then why go in the first place? He wanted to ask for further clarification, but then as he looked back at Jake, he saw the brat lifting his rear from the couch cushion, and his face was twisting up like an infant... Braaaaaaap...SQUELCH! And just as quickly as the question had risen up his throat, it slid all the way back down again, only to be replaced by: "Mrs. Jake's mom! Jake went poop in his diaper!" Being loudly belted out toward the kitchen. His opportunity to get more answers would be stalled by the oversized baby getting walked to the bathroom, so that the smelly lump smeared in his Huggies could be dealt with. It was no matter, the answer would present itself soon enough. And present it would! Though he probably should have figured it out sooner. Calvin had thought that going without parents to trick-or-treat was proof of his budding privileges, and he hadn't thought much about the fact that he would have to do it with Jake, or why Jake would be given the same right. Well, that was because they were still going with a 'babysitter' of sorts. Jasmine wasn't really trick-or-treating, she was playing chaperon to her baby brother, and apparently to Calvin too. To be clear, Jasmine was only two years older than Calvin, if even that. She had a major height advantage on him, sure, but they weren't so far apart otherwise that it made sense to stick her in charge. It was mortifying whenever Calvin found out for real, and to make it worse, he didn't realize it until they were already several houses in. He genuinely thought she was just there to watch over Jake, hence the diaper bag that she'd brought, but then she started giving him directions too, and it all came crashing down on him. He would try channeling that humiliation into something more productive, as the evening proceeded, but it was a grim outlook for him; every attempt he made to appear more mature, or to separate himself from the same category as Jake, would be either ignored or misconstrued. Jasmine had a short temper to begin with, and with Calvin, that fuse shrank by at least half, so striking out was inevitable. By the middle of the route, Calvin would try something a little more bold: he would go knock at the 'spooky door'. It was an urban legend whispered between kids at the lunch table, localized completely to the one street where the old house remained. The old Hitchens place, where it was said that children went missing, and that the reserved owner was a cannibal. In all honesty, the place was host to a dozen different rumors, most of which were contradictory to one another, but that was what happened when everyone put their own spin on it. The Hitchens house never had decorations, the lights were off before trick-or-treating began, and every kid knew to steer clear. There was no candy to be had there, only frights. For Calvin though, he really didn't believe in most of the rumors. He thought the place was creepy, and that the owner was shrouded in mystery, but most of what was said was patently ridiculous. ...Right? Maybe he was telling himself that now, but the lump in his throat, and the chill down his spine, that told a different story. Still, it felt like a foolproof way to show not only his bravery, but how 'grown' he was, by not subscribing to such silly myths. Jake refused to follow him up the sidewalk, and Jasmine let out an exasperated sigh whenever Calvin insisted on giving the door a knock. "Calvin, come back here. They don't even have their lights on!" "That's okay, I'm not scared of a spooky house. Only babies believe all those terrible things..." "What? That's not the point, the point is..." He was already too far up the walkway to hear her, so the older girl just rolled her eyes and planted her feet underneath the street lamp, taking the opportunity to give her brother a timely check of the waistband. Calvin drew in a big breath as he approached the withered door; a lot of the paint had chipped off, and the knob looked weathered. The house was old, and apparently the owner had never installed a door bell, so Calvin had to reach up on his tippy toes to grab hold of the rusted iron knocker. Knock! Knock! Knock! Each pound against the wood made his stomach clench more. He waited a moment, and then seemed relieved that nobody had come to answer; the purpose had never been to get a reply, just to show his stuff, and now he could leave! The boy turned back around, feet leaving the tattered welcome mat, and then the door creaked open... "WHAT'S WITH ALL THE RACKET?! GET OFF MY PROPERTY!" The boom of the cantankerous voice was so loud, so sudden, so aggressive, that it tipped the scales on whatever bravery that Calvin had thought he could show. The boy yelped and ran, unaware he was leaving a trail of fearful urine in his wake, left to stain the walkway with his cowardice. It was only fortunate that his ninja costume was black, since he'd almost picked the 'snow ninja' variant instead... Back under the streetlight, doubled over to catch his breath, he was only just now realizing what had happened. "I told you, Calvin! No decorations, no lights, they didn't want any little kids coming up to their door! Why do you have to be such a pest? Why can't you just act your age?" The taller girl berated, only stopping when her nose wrinkled. She turned back to Jake, "Jake, I just checked you! Did you seriously...?" "Wasn't me!" No, no it wasn't. Peeing his pants wasn't all that Calvin had done, and now that he had gotten his wits back, he could feel something warm and sticky filling out the back of his favorite pair of Power Rangers briefs. Had he really? In his attempt to show his bravery and maturity? He'd done THAT? There was no chance to hide it either, because before he could concoct a plan of action, the princess was looming over him, and she was pulling out the back of his pants. "SERIOUSLY? How old are you, Calvin? Are you still a baby like Jake?! Ugh, and you're soaked too..." Jake was laughing, Jasmine was fuming, and Calvin was smoldering. "Well, I'm not going to cut things short for Jake. I brought spares, so you'll just have to change." "S-spare pants?" "Yes, in the diaper bag." A secluded spot, ten minutes of an awkward clean-up, and Calvin was back on the street with his candy bag. Jasmine hadn't been lying, but she hadn't been completely honest either; there had been spare pants to give him, but not the kind he'd expected... Pumpkin pants, and a diaper to fill them out. Just like Jake. The two now matched from the waist down, and it was clearer than ever that the gulf between him and Jasmine was entirely too vast. He could only hope to not prove the pumpkin pants a further necessity, but there were still a lot of houses to go. IV. Take Only One: (Content Tags: Silly, slice-of-life, pantspooping accident, greed, karmic) ‘Big kids know how to share. Please take just one piece each!’ Timmy scoffed, he wasn’t about to be lectured by a sign on a bowl. The dish was still over halfway full, and Halloween was coming to an end, so what would it hurt? It wasn’t like the dumb grown-up inside needed candy, so it’d just sit there and expire! His little sister would abide the sign and looked intently at the bowl, trying to decide which piece she wanted; she ended up taking a Snickers bar. The older boy rolled his eyes at the obedience on display; there were a bunch of candies in there that he might want, so why limit himself? He reached down into the bowl and got a little bag of gummies, and then with a mischievous smirk, he darted his finger around to pinch a sucker too. Timmy tossed both pieces of candy into his bag, and then looked over at Fiona, as if daring her to say something. “The sign says just one piece, Timmy. It says so!” She chastised, clicking her tongue and putting her hands on her hips. “Yeah, so? Whenever we go to the store, the sign in the bathroom says to wash your hands. Doesn’t mean I always do.” The boy responded with a titter. “Eww! You’re so gross! Some big brother you are; the sign is right, you’re just like a little kid!” “That sounds like something someone would say if they wanted a wet-willy.” The girl twisted her face up at him and stepped away from the candy dish, clearly not willing to test him on whether or not he was joking. Timmy just laughed and grabbed another big handful of treats; he saw kids coming up the walkway, so he knew he’d have to leave at least something, so he made sure to avoid the ‘garbage candy’ like candy-corn or milk duds. The good stuff, though? He was taking that for himself, even if that meant everyone else got trash. Once satisfied, he skittered back off toward the street, where his sister was sulking. Feeling like he deserved to enjoy his bounty, now that his bag was more than twice as full as it had been before, he didn’t wait to start digging in. He almost felt bad about just how much of it he had taken, so he offered a piece to his sister, and she just shook his head at him. “Whatever, just more for me. Don’t think I’m gonna give you any, once you run out. You’re gonna run out waaaaay sooner than I will, too!” With how much he’d taken from the bowl, he’d be able to eat candy every day for weeks! Longer if he had better impulse control, but that seemed unlikely; whenever he ate one, he felt like he needed to eat at least two more. His sweet-tooth was much worse than the one his sister had. Thirty minutes would pass, and they’d be hitting up their final houses of the evening; Timmy’s stomach had started to bubble, but he thought it might just be that he had too much sugar. He’d been tossing back candy like it was popcorn, and that couldn’t have been healthy for his gut, could it? It was unpleasant, sure, but nothing he couldn’t handle for a little while longer! Or at least, so he had thought. As another house brought another smattering of candy into his overstuffed bag, he felt a fart starting to slip out; it was impossible to stop, and it quickly warmed the inside of his underwear. It helped relieve a little bit of the pressure, so he decided to lean into it, since he felt more of the gas building up; while walking beside his little sister, he got a devious look in his eyes. “Hey, Fiona. What sound does both a trumpet and a steam-boat make?” “Are you trying to tell a joke?” “It goes…” He gave an intentional push with one eye shut, stopping briefly in his tracks to let the foul wind spew forth. The answer was supposed to be ‘toot-toot’ and under normal circumstances, that would be an approximation of the sound he made, but instead… SQUIIIIIRT...SQUISH. Timmy’s eyes became like saucers, and his lip curled down in disgust at the feeling that was starting to spread all across his bottom; it felt like he’d just sprayed hot pudding in his underpants, easily a whole snack-pack too. The molten muck was rapidly seeping through the fabric of not just his briefs, but into the green tights of his ‘Peter Pan’ costume too. “O-oh...No…” He quietly whimpered, hands slowly reaching behind him, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. His sister didn’t believe it at first either, but the sight made it impossible to deny, and she’d be reminding him of what that sign had said about ‘being a big kid’, and how right it must be. She giggled, she teased, she gloated, and he had to carefully take each step back home, as the big brown stain on his tights grew bigger. One might think that’d be the end of it, but that wasn’t the case. Halloween night didn’t mark the end, not by a long shot. What he had thought was a freak accident, was quickly becoming a daily struggle, and his briefs soon got replaced by Pull-Ups, and when those failed him, then it became time for diapers. Over the course of a couple of weeks, the proud ‘big kid’ had been reduced to a pantspooper in Pampers, and he had no idea why! Had he been cursed by some spirit of Halloween? All because he broke the rule of some silly sign? Even if he believed that might somehow be the case, it didn’t stop him from stuffing his gob with more of the ill-gotten gains from the bowl, which inevitably led to squishy, plopping consequences a little bit later. The truth was, that there was no magic in play. There was just a hard lesson being taught, one that the boy didn’t seem able to learn. The sign had warned to take just one piece, and ultimately, that was because only one piece would be able to be tolerated by someone’s tummy, before things became...Volatile. The candy was all laced with an artificial sweetener, much like sorbitol, an an intentional way to teach a moral about the sin of greed; Timmy was likely not the only boy who had ended up with a dump in his pants that night, but he was the only one that’d taken enough pieces to disregulate his bowel control for weeks to come. One piece wouldn’t do anything, but two or more, and the sugar molecule that couldn’t be digested, well… It begged for release, and it made an explosive exit, without formally getting a ticket for departure. He still had enough to last him the next month, and if things went on the way they were, then he might need to be re-pottytrained by the end of the candy bag; it might not be until next Halloween that he got out of diapers! Hopefully by then, he would have learned something about sharing. Or maybe not.