Tale #156: Sentenced to Sequence

Tale #156: Sentenced to Sequence (Content Tags: Messy diapers, brainwashing, humiliation, degradation, karmic vengeance, light sci-fi) Stop and fart. Fart and squat. Squat and grunt. Grunt and push. Push and poop. Poop and sit. Sit and squish. Squish and drool. Drool and gyrate. Each step was a doorway to the next, and each doorway was a new frontier for him to conquer in the crudest way he could. His brain followed the instructions at every junction, like a program that'd been fine-tuned for procedural operation. The description was apt for what had been done to him; his conditioning had been all about forcing connections, and those connections were now impossible to deny. He had Phineas to thank for that, though one could argue that much of the fault laid at his own feet too; it wasn't as if he'd been chosen at random for this to he done to him. This was what revenge looked like, whenever conspired by a nerd that'd had enough of being pushed around. The time to regret that was far gone now though, and whatever lesson could be learned, was utterly lost on the buffoon who befouled his pants with the same lack of decency that an empy-headed tot would. His capacity for remorse was as faulty as Phineas' capacity for forgiveness, and thus this was the solution that'd been decided upon. "Colby! Are you doing what I think you're doing? Already?" His little brother's exasperated groan had merit behind it; Colby had only kept himself clean for a little over an hour this time, and his younger sibling had undoubtedly hoped to have a little more time before the return of such a fetid stench in the air. If Colby was capable of it, then he might apologize for tainting the room with yet another round of miasma, but apologies were not a part of his sequencing. It wasn't that his brain was gone, or rather the mediocre bastion of intellect that he'd laid claim to, but it had been irrevocably altered in such a way that at least slanted toward the less mentally gifted. After all, purposely defecating on one's self, and then gleefully sitting in the fresh pile to smear it, all while slobbering like an imbecile, was hardly an indication of intelligence. But he was still Colby, at least in other ways that might matter. He was still more than capable of talking, of thinking, and of acting of his own accord, just now with a series of invisible tweaks that made him a little more 'special'. "Uh-huh...! G-gotta...Mmph...T-take a dump!" He shamelessly replied, the flatulence beginning to burble and rasp. Once he felt that tickle in his tummy, even the slightest of urgency from down below, then he had the overwhelming compulsion to act upon it. Following the decision tree, there was no option to deny this urge, nor was there even a tiny dissenting thought to fight it. Not any longer. The same couldn't be said for how it'd been in the beginning, before all the tinkering had fully concluded; there had definitely been a period where he had fought the artificial programming that controlled him. There had been a time where he would try to resist following the sequence that called to him. By that same account of the past, there had also been a time where he could have still been reliably depended upon to not need protection for such matters. It felt like an impossibility long time ago, a distant memory of a completely different life, whenever he'd been relatively normal. Jasper, his baby brother, groaned and put his hands on his hips. "Can't you wait a little while? Mom's taking a nap, and I don't wanna have to smell you until she wakes up!" It was funny how their dynamic had so sharply shifted from how it'd once been. Jasper had always been a little crybaby, a third grade wuss that struggled to meet the requirements for Colby's respect, and now he was the one whose respect was impossible to earn. Such was fair. Colby may have been three years older, but he was no longer the one that Jasper looked up to in any regard. Now it was Jasper who had reason to be embarrassed of Colby, instead of the other way around, and also reason to be irritated. Another juicy fart sputtered out and Colby's knees bent further down, until he was squatting on his haunches like a toddler. The grunting grew more shameless, an admission of how little Colby cared about his own privacy while trying to evacuate his bowels. He no longer understood why he should hide it, as if it'd become something as standard as breathing. That too had radically changed in the time since his reprogramming had begun and concluded; whenever there had still been some semblance of control, whenever there had still been some feasible chance to use the toilet, he had been a lot less comfortable with so openly messing himself. Like a normal boy, he had been humiliated by any such accident and the telltale signs that accompanied it. No longer did he blush, though his face still would turn red out of exertion, and he made no attempts to muffle the sounds passing either set of cheeks. He didn't feel any need to lie about what he was doing, or where the smell may be emanating from; these days, there were times where he wasn't even always the first to know what's happened in the first place! "N-no...Gotta poo. Think it'll be a...Hmmph...Big one.." "When is it not?" A fair remark from Jasper, when taking into account the sheer size that so many of these frequently pinched pant-loafs boasted; another gift from the one who'd rewired Colby in his entirety, to ensure that the rest of his handiwork was put to good use. Colby had always been regular, but Phineas had done what he could to dial that up to ten. The ending result was that Colby didn't just fill his pants every day, but instead devastated every diaper and did so every few hours. The cheaper disposable briefs that Colby had first been given were long gone by now, since he'd suffered one too many blowouts and ruined one too many pairs of pants; the secondary reason, which was also fairly obvious in its own way, was that those pull-up style garments were intended for those who might at least make an effort to not crap their pants, and Colby was well past that point of no return. What he wore now hadn't even a passing resemblance to real underwear, nor did it insist upon functioning in such a way. Colby wore diapers, large ones, and their utility was strictly to act as a receptacle for his constant excretions; a pull-up acted as a cautionary guard against potential accidents, but a diaper was little more than a literal turdsack, that was simple and honest in its function: catching feces and absorbing urine. That was at least the clinical way that Phineas would have put it, whenever his outlook's focus was scientific instead of being filtered through the juvenile recesses of his brilliant mind. The prodigy had a way of code-switching without thinking about it, where one moment his words would take on the sterility and seriousness of a scientist, and then the next moment might have him instead mocking Colby for making 'poopies' and giggling wildly about the rude noises that accompanied the act. Colby had known both sides of him, and he'd inadvertently done his best to agitate the two in tandem. He bullied Phineas whenever he was being a nerd, and he bullied Phineas whenever he was being a little kid, as both were ripe for his derision. Or he had, at least. Colby was too pathetic of a specimen to be credibly mocking anyone anymore, least of all the intellectual that'd made him into a diapered lab monkey to test on. Most impressive was the fact that Colby was so totally unaware of it, of what had been done to his brain. It wasn't like his memories had been taken from him, and so he could still remember a time whenever he had been on top of the world, but his personality had been changed in such a way that he couldn't even imagine being that person again, nor did he have a want to be. That was what made it so perfect. It would have been rudimentary to effectively lobotomize Colby, but there would have been no art to it; Phineas had instead done what marketing psychologists could only dream of: he'd made Colby truly believe that everything was of his own accord. Phineas took the philosophical question of 'is a slave a slave if they don't know it', and then ran with it. Colby had literally no awareness that he'd been acted upon by external forces, he had no internal inquiries about why he'd become so different, and he had no resentment over the contemptible state that he now lived in. It was neurological and psychological magic, at least compared to what was thought to be possible. Phineas had treated Colby's brain, his being, like lines of code in a computer program, and he'd taken his craft as seriously as an artist would take their work. That was also how inconsistencies and paradoxes could be so easily resolved by Colby's neural processing; a good example being that Colby now seemed incapable of feeling shame for soiling his diapers, but was still fully capable of feeling shame for so many other typical things, or how Phineas had only flipped certain 'retard' switches, as to fully customize the degradation he wished to inflict. It was the work of a supervillain from a comic book, but from the mind of a puny, prepubescent twerp from across the street. It was the kind of technological prowess that could rule the world, but it'd instead been used to make a mean sixth grader into a diaper-dooking dummy. Genius that should have been historical was being casually squandered on a petty, childish grievance in the suburbs. Another gurgling volley of gas erupted and reverberated in the cushioned confines of the bulky, white padding. A small trickle of drool left Colby's chin shining wetly in the light, and his chubby, freckled cheeks burned like ingots being smelted in the furnace. The first solid salvo of a boisterous barrage was snaking its way out and fully intended to greet the white, pillowy valley below with gusto. It crackled like a log in the fireplace, and coincidentally, with the radiant heat it would bring, that would be a perfectly apt simile for what the back of the diaper would soon feel like. With tremendous effort reflected in his sharp grunts and burning cheeks, Colby pushed harder to let loose the python of poo that dwelled within; it came slowly at first, like dipping a toe in the water to check the temperature, and then it quickly accelerated into a full blown cannonball that puffed out his padding with a thunderous thump. The newfound lump, sizable and easily discernible, was up high on the seat, from where the lumpy log had shot out like a missle, but it then unceremoniously rolled down into the bottom of the diaper with a dull plop. The diaper itself, in a testament to its impressive capacity, only sagged by less than an inch from the sudden onset weight it'd been burdened with. A diaper such as his wasn't so easily loaded, and one hefty turd wasn't nearly enough to bring gravity's cruel wrath upon him. That being said, Colby also wasn't remotely finished with the dirty deed he'd started; he didn't even let out a sigh of relief from the deposit, instead doubling down on his efforts to continue the debasing act. Jasper groaned quietly behind him, now certain it was too late to convince Colby on holding off. Perhaps he'd already known that before, since he'd had a front row seat to Colby's precipitous devolution in that regard over the months, but he still naively held out hope that his big brother could be reasoned with to consider what a good time and place was for self-defecation. When the accidents had first started, Jasper had been over the moon about them; after a long-suffering bout of being the figurative punching bag for his big brother, it'd been a godsend to finally have one up on him, especially when considering what that one up actually was. The younger boy had laughed, he'd teased, he'd tattled, and he'd never let an opportunity pass him to remind Colby of which one of them was the baby now. For a bedwetting, crybaby pipsqueak, it was exactly what Jasper had needed to turn the tables on his bully of a brother. It'd decidedly become less fun whenever Colby had stopped being embarrassed by it though, or when Jasper had been made to take on a more active role in his brother's caretaking needs. The first time that it'd become apparent that Colby no longer felt the shame that he should had been while the two brothers were playing a game together; they'd been sitting on the floor in front of the television, each with a controller in their hand as they competed, and Jasper had heard a vile gurgling from beside him. Looking over, he'd been greeted by the sight of his older brother leaning forward and getting a distant look on his face; there was gas, and there were squishy splattering sounds, all of which came right from the puffy backside of his mesh shorts. Colby had been too invested in the game to really take note, even as he lazily lifted a buttcheek from the ground to more easily let loose. He'd laughed at his brother, but whenever Colby didn't blush or seem the least bit offended, Jasper had instead gotten irritated and accused him of doing it on purpose to get an edge in their game. Jasper hadn't been able to compute that Colby was simply fine with sitting in a loaded diaper that was full of steaming, diarrheal mush, with the ferocious fumes curdling the air around them. But that'd been a while ago. That'd been over a hundred dirty diapers ago. So Jasper no longer questioned his brother's attitude, but instead was only annoyed by it; the old Colby was long gone, and what had replaced him was a putrid pantspooper who seemed to relish in his own filthy filling of his babypants. The shift from apathy to enjoyment had been a separate transformation, but certainly a more subtle one. The back of the thick diaper began to bulge once again with the dull thud of another ballistic poo-missile striking, and Colby's expression twisted into one of dopey pleasure as the steamer unfurled below him. The earthy aroma grew stronger, radiating off the back of the garment in thick plumes of stink. "Ngghh...Ungggh..." The older boy sloppily grunted, as the turd was pinched off with a boisterous toot as a send-off. "You're gonna make the whole downstairs smell like poop." Jasper grumbled, folding his arms and turning his gaze away from the pitiful sight that his big brother had become. That was hardly a dig that meant anything to Colby; by this point in his programming, at the whimsical yet scatological direction of Phineas, the diapered dummy had been imbued with a deranged joy for the scent of his own diaper-droppings. It was an odor that tickled his nostrils softly and filled him with a feeling of contentment, as if it was the sweet scent of pumpkin pie in the oven. That particular devolution had come soon after Colby had started to enjoy the sensation of the warm muck in his pants; whenever his brain had been insidiously tweaked to feel ecstasy over the tactile data that his own stool provided him. From pushing it out, to feeling it collect in the back of his diaper, and then to sitting down on top of it and letting it smear from buttocks to balls, it'd become a five-course extravaganza of sensory delights. This moment was no different for him. Even as Colby strained to continue the protracted evacuation, the look on his face betrayed the serendipity of it all. The way that the diaper continued to bulge out behind him, like he was smuggling a grapefruit, was pure jubilation for him; it was euphoria in its most degrading form. Such personal feelings on the matter also made it more of a struggle to get him to willingly change; Colby would often hide and lie about the state of his diaper to their parents, not because he was mortified like he should be, but because he just wanted to prolong having a dirty bottom. He'd whine and fuss, he would try to argue or negotiate, and all just so that he could get a little longer with the packed Pampers stuck messily to his bottom. A final series of grunts came barreling out of the drooly lips of the boy, first strong and then weak, as he gave the final few pushes necessary to achieve what he'd been trying so ardently to accomplish. Jasper looked back at him, well past the point of pity or amusement, and watched as the lumpy diaper distended once more with a barrage of smaller pieces of poop making their exit. Finally came the sigh of relief, even though some short toots would continue to pepper the loaded seat for the next few moments; with an almost vacant expression, Colby reached behind himself and fondled the warm mass that so clearly showed itself in the seat of the diaper, and he gawked with a childlike bliss. "That was a really big one..." He murmured,  mostly to himself, as his fingers danced across the warmth that the thick padding now offered. Then, without any care for the messy consequences, the boy lowered his rear onto the floor and put down his full weight; the large bulge made contact with the carpet with a nasty, muffled squish, and Jasper could literally hear the poop being mashed under the oppressive heft of Colby's bottom. He didn't need to watch the pile flatten to know that it'd smeared outward in all directions, coating his brother's underside and up the crook of his back; the sounds were enough evidence of that, and if there were any doubts, then he could watch as Colby rocked back and forth, or scooted his rump around on the carpet, to ensure that the dirty dump was evenly distributed to all corners of the padding. "I'm not changing that." Jasper pointed out, still irritated at the whole affair. Colby didn't look like he cared. If anything, he'd fully anticipated that response; it'd actually been a boon to him that he'd had to poop while their mother was taking a nap, because now he'd be able to enjoy riding dirty for a while. "Good. I don't want you to." He simply replied, continuing to rock in place, the previously white padding beginning to get some nasty brown blotches at the leg gathers and up toward the top where the puffy paneling ended. This was who he was now. This is what he wanted, and he'd never know that it hadn't been his choice.