Tale #160: Max and the Megamax (Part 2)

Tale #160: Max and the Megamax (Part 2) (Content Tags: Humiliation, messy diapers, slice of life, familial bullying) The steaming hot pile felt impossibly large as it settled in the sagging seat of his Megamax; in actuality, it probably only took a third of the diaper's spacious capacity, but to Max, it felt as if he was nearly at blowout levels. The sticky stool clung to his cheeks just as mercilessly as the cloying scent clung to the air around him; it was earthy, ripe, almost a bit fruity. It stunk, and ergo, he too stunk. A malignant odor was the least of his worries though, with those fetid fumes being little more than a small byproduct of the much larger problem. The same could be said for the moderate discomfort that the mushy mound afforded him; it was unpleasant, or at least he seemed to think so for now, but it was just a symptom, not a source. The source, or the sickness, from which all these minor inconveniences sprung, was from his own flailing ability to control his bowels like a boy his age should. It was a dire dilemma that'd grown worse in a relatively short period of time, and it'd come to consume him. The occasional messy accident hadn't been much to think about when he lived with his father, but that had been because he'd been the sole soul to know of them, and to deal with them. It had all been on his own terms, and it had been a sporadic enough affliction that he'd never considered it to be a real problem. Now that he lived here, with his mother and her new family, it'd become his biggest problem by a far measure. Not only had the incidents become a lot more frequent and severe, but they hadn't gone unnoticed by those that he lived with, and he no longer had the autonomy to deal with them on his own terms. That's how he'd ended up going from briefs, to pull-ups, to diapers, and all in record time. There was no place to hide the evidence of his failures, there was no looming shadow of parental negligence to veil his misdeeds within, and there was no arguing for what solutions he himself wanted to explore. The worst part was how a small part of him had given up and come to agree with his stepfather's decisions. He hated the man, and he knew that he wasn't being treated fairly, but the logical part of his brain had to admit that the rampant pantspooping couldn't simply go unchecked or unchallenged. With the kind of accidents he was having now, and the rate that he was having them, it would seem a little silly to lodge an argument against the kind of protection that was most prudent. If he had his own way, then he'd be ruining every pair of underwear and pants that he owned, as well as putting all the furniture and carpeting at constant risk. In a terribly ironic way, his greatest shame, which would be the diapers he had been condemned to, had also become his greatest source of feeling safe. The padded prison may have marked him as something lowly, but it was a prison that'd kept some of his anxieties quelled. The Megamax around his waist, with four sturdy tapes, plastic-backed resilience, a high-rising back, and an unrivaled capacity, was almost a sort of armor against the unpredictability of his own body. The evidence was even presently simmering in its seat, with the protective garment hardly groaning from the heft of his sizable payload. That was all on the logical end of things though, and Max was still at his core an irrational child who was more comfortable with viewing the world through his immature, volatile emotions. So he wouldn't admit to himself that the diapers were necessary, or that they were the right call, and he certainly wouldn't credit his cruel stepfather with finding a solution to his potty problems. Perhaps it was a lack of familial support that exacerbated his ire toward wearing the diapers. His stepfather was clearly evil, and so was his older stepbrother, but his mother and sister had hardly been respectful to him in these trying times. On some level, Max almost thought that his mother might be embarrassed of him. Their awkward reunion at the airport had hardly been the last of their shaky relationship, and Max swore he saw pity in her eyes whenever she spoke to him. Maybe that was just his own biased perception, tainted wholly by his reasonable insecurities, or maybe it was him mistaking a guilty gaze for pitying eyes, or perhaps anything in between. The tone she used whenever talking to him, and most noticeably whenever the situation involved his potty problems, was syrupy and somewhat dismissive; in the chasm that their distance created, it was a hopefully unintentional condescension that bridged her words to his ears. It was infantilizing, as if he had no wit to boast of, and as if he was the same first grader that she'd left behind. Max was frequently left wondering if he deserved it, too. He was a small boy that'd only been made to feel smaller, and at least in regards to keeping his pants clean, he'd become worse than he was at six; maybe his mother had justification in her newfound appraisal of him. All the other ways that he'd let himself regress were surely not helping his case either. The woman hadn't fought her husband on any of the decisions that he'd imposed, so Max already could tell that she agreed with most of them. The Megamax around his waist wasn't something that had been simply deliberated on by fiat. She likely didn't have the same cruel humiliation in mind as Burt, but she didn't seem to care much about how his embarrassment was a prominent byproduct. Max felt the cool grass between his toes as he stepped outside into the backyard, and he felt a pleasant breeze cast itself against his bare legs like a gentle wave upon the shore. The open air of the outdoors was a sharp contrast to the stuffiness of the house behind him, not just for the differing atmospheric qualities, but for the openness that the yard represented. He didn't feel confined or entrapped, and the fence felt just tall enough to keep his poopy diaper from becoming a neighborhood spectacle. Originally, his purpose for coming out here had been to mess himself in private; whenever the intense gurgling had made itself known to him, and that he only had scant moments before his poor sphincter gave out, it had been an easy decision to shuffle his way to the backdoor. Things hadn't quite shaken out the way he wanted, since Burt had sidelined him at the backdoor, and then his own 'backdoor' had failed him, but the change in venue had still been welcome all the same. The only downside was that he'd have to share the space, and with a pair that he'd really rather not see right now. The smoldering pile of poo that he was sporting wasn't a good look, not that it had ever been, and it would only lead to further degradation from his other siblings. They were in that plastic playhouse, or at least that was what Max could figure. It was a garish, oversized testament to how his little sister liked to conduct herself; it was a feminine fiefdom, and she was its baroness. His relationship with Erin had been weird in the time that he'd returned to her life, and he'd been left wishing that they could have stayed separated. She'd been little more than an overzealous toddler whenever they'd been split up, and at six, Max had been the one that she'd always looked up until that point. It was a faint memory now, but Max could still recall how he'd had to complain about the way she always followed him around and wanted to play with him; she'd been his little shadow back then, but now things were different. Erin hadn't said it in so many words, but plenty of context clues had led Max to the conclusion that she was disappointed by the big brother she'd gotten back. After four years, and after however many weeks she'd had to realize he was coming to live with her, the image of what Max should be had been hyped to hell in her head. A big brother that she remembered as being big and strong. A big brother that would fill the role of an older sibling, where Terrence had failed. A big brother that she could respect, and who'd come to her aid if she was ever a damsel in distress. She hadn't gotten that though. She hadn't gotten any of those things in the least. He'd seen those crestfallen eyes the moment that he'd shuffled in the front door, when he'd still been reeling from his accident on the plane and the subsequent clean-up in the airport bathroom that his mother had helped attend to. Max was meek in that moment, appearing even lesser than his physical depiction would lead her to believe. The malnutrition, lack of sleep, and caffeine addiction had ravaged his physical development in ways that would probably never fully be rectified. All those 'freedoms' that he'd had for himself had led to an appearance that didn't suit the ten year old that Erin had thought up in her head. Instead, Max was a slouching, diminutive runt with a pudgy tummy and an unkempt appearance. Combining his unimpressive development with her evident growth spurt had led the siblings to practically be eye-to-eye, even though they were supposed to be three years apart. That had been a big strike one against him, and the big strike two would end up being the accident he had later on that first evening that he was there. Max paused in the grass, his legs bowed by the bulk of the diaper, and the heat of the mush radiating against the back of his thighs where the diaper's seat had sagged down. His stepfather had given him a clear instruction to tell her about the looming dinner being prepared, but he really didn't want to face her like this. She hadn't seen the Megamax yet, nor had the toddler she was forcing to play with her. He knew that she'd see them sooner or later, especially with how things had become, but he'd been hoping to stretch that time out a bit further. The reaction that Terrence had given him had already done enough to stain his pride, and his psyche needed time to recover. The descent, or rather the demotion, from 'pull-ups' to diapers was a big one. It somehow felt a lot bigger than the demotion from undies to the pull-ups had felt, and perhaps that was because of the hopelessness they represented. The training pants may have also been bulky and infantile, but they had still represented the potential for turning thing around. The training pants had been a precaution, but diapers weren't interested in providing that same vibe. A diaper was an indication of a foregone conclusion; it didn't denote 'in the event of' or 'if this may happen', it clearly insinuated instead 'when this happens'. No longer was there any confidence that he'd actually use the toilet like a big kid should, and judging by the stench that was beginning to summon the flies, he couldn't make much of an argument against that. Before he could ruminate much further about potential reactions, the door to the playhouse opened, and Max saw his sister starting to cart Collin out in a little red wagon. Much like Max, the toddler had his Huggies on full display, and from the look of things, the garment was at least soggy. "Wook! Dere iz Max!" The tot exclaimed, one hand carrying a sippy cup, while the other raised to point at his older half-brother. Max blanched, the suddenness an issue all its own to his delicate constitution; he'd been stuck in his head, wringing his trembling hands over what may happen whenever Erin and Collin saw him like this, and now it was happening without his express say-so. In his anxious headspace, it made his body shudder, and a low fart bubbled into his stooly seat. "Max? Did daddy send you to--" Erin's sentence came to a stop as her eyes shifted downward, and the Megamax became the focus of her vision. The garment was impossible to hide, especially with no pants to speak of; Max's shirt wasn't long enough to cover any more than the top few inches of the waistband. It was a stark transition to take in, since he'd still had the dignity of something untaped earlier in the day, before his stepfather had laid down the new law. "--That's a DIAPER!" Erin exclaimed, gawking unapologetically at it, seemingly in a state of disbelief that her 'big' brother had once again proven himself to be undeserving of the title. Max blushed, but he didn't bother trying to deny it. What could he say, really? It was very plainly a diaper, and a very thick one at that, and Erin wasn't some gullible idiot who could be swayed to believe otherwise. His best bet was to instead try to ease the blow of the discovery, and to try to get her to move past it. "Y-yeah, Burt is making me wear it. Umm, anyway, he told me to tell you that dinner will be ready soon...And umm, to send Collin in if his diaper is stinky." That in itself was already a grace that Max hadn't been given; Collin was being offered a diaper change that was free of judgment or scorn, given at his own want and convenience, while Max had been told that he'd be waddling around with a steamy dump pressed up against his buttcheeks until dinner was ready. It certainly showed a difference of respect between the two boys, and it was a perfect example of how Max's situation was being treated in a more disciplinary context. "No stinky." Collin interjected, as he gave the back of his infantile garment a firm pat. He then smiled as he looked closer at Max's own diaper, "Max izza bay-bee too!" "I'm not a baby." Max grumbled simply, his eyes shifting down to avoid contact. "Only babies wear diapers." Erin snidely remarked, not hiding the malicious grin growing on her face. It was hardly an improvement over what Terrence had said; while Erin leaned in to calling him a little baby, using the totality of his immaturity against him, Terrence had been more interested in deriding his intelligence, by calling him a special ed retard. Max didn't think either crude assessment was correct, or at least that was his outward view, but it would be a lie to say that he didn't take both depictions into account when fretting over how he was coming to view himself. His self-confidence was riddled with holes, his ego frayed and fragile, and doubts had increasingly plagued his every thought over the last few months. Maybe he *was* stupid and immature. Perhaps he *did* resemble a mushbrain more than he'd like to admit. His schooling had long suffered from his apathy, and while he thought he'd been so mature to make his own decisions, it was becoming more painfully clear that those decisions had been themselves a benchmark of his lacking maturity. "W-whatever. Not my fault that he's making me wear this stupid thing." Max groused. Erin approached closer, letting go of the wagon so that she could see the Megamax with a more discerning eye. "It's your fault, because you won't stop pooping your pants. That's why daddy put you in a diaper, just like Collin." Max gulped as the girl came up into his personal bubble, without any care for his space. The fetid fumes of his disgrace would become more pungent, but the earthy odor was at least diluted by the open air of the backyard. "I don't...It isn't...I'm not *trying* to have accidents..." "Yeah, like a baby. Babies don't hafta try, Max. They just go poopie in their diapee, and cry about it. Are you gonna cry? Did you make a poopie?" Her words were like razors dipped in venom, and it was like she knew exactly how to implant all the niggling doubts that'd come to destroy his peace of mind. "N-no! Shut up! I was just coming to tell you about dinner, that's it." He took a cautious step backwards, but then Erin grabbed him by the wrist. "Don't tell me to shut up! Or do you want me to tell daddy? He'll give you a spanking, you know." She wasn't lying about what he would do, nor was she bluffing about what she would do. The siblings were long past the point of mutual respect, and Max had come to see just what a spoiled, entitled brat that his little sister had become in these four years. He blamed Burt for that, for enabling this bossy princess persona, but he also knew that it wasn't very far outside the norm for a girl her age to act this way. She likely hadn't needed much pushing to end up a despot in pink. Max pursed his lips, and his knees knocked together; another juicy fart sputtered to life in his messy diaper, and he could feel that his bowels likely weren't finished with their earlier evacuation just yet. "Now, we're gonna play, and you're gonna be a good baby, okay?" Max nodded quietly, knowing exactly how futile it would be to argue with her.