Loving Care: The Stories of Lola Trechlyn

Chapter 11
VIII - Leisurely Competition

Chapter Description: M on M, Mental AR. / Originally published on March 3rd, 2010. All new!

based on 2003’s "-20" by dioscuri

The image could have only been described as bizarre... and, despite my scant few months as a Willowbrook University freshman, I’d already seen more than my fair share. My worst enemy and I, sitting in my dorm room together, throwing back beers as if we were old friends.

His name was Ted. He was a 22-year-old senior who cared more about having fun than doing anything worthwhile. Much of this fun was at my expense. And I’m not talking about harmless pranks... I’m talking about full-fledged beatings, humiliations, and books’ worth of malicious gossip. Either the whole “seniors tormenting freshmen” trend wasn’t relegated to high school as I had originally hoped, or Ted was having a tough time growing up.

My name’s Robert, and I’m 19 years old. I’m not a nerd, or a loser, or an outcast... things you might have expected me to be after learning of my troubles with Ted. I’m a small guy, though -- five-four, 110 pounds -- and more smart than tough, which is the perfect recipe for disaster. Ted’s an imposing guy, besting my height by a nearly a foot and my weight by a solid hundred pounds.

Getting Ted into my dorm room was a surprisingly easy task. He had been stumbling about campus, bouncing from party to party, getting increasingly loaded with each stop on his grand tour. Ted’s popularity guaranteed him an endless supply of free beers and shots of tequila. So, by the time I ran into him, his organs must have been pickled with 80-proof preservative; and, since he’s one of those guys that become famously suggestible while under such heavy influence, Ted was more than willing to stop by the dorm room of his favorite victim. The promise of free beer certainly didn’t hurt.

I looked at Ted from across the room. He was sitting on the tile floor, leaning up against wall, his legs spread out in front of him. Ted was burning through my beers pretty quickly and handling them relatively well. His well-maintained black hair was only slightly messy, and his black t-shirt and boot-but blue jeans were devoid of any telltale beer stains. He could have even been mistaken for sober, until he opened his mouth.

“?Nother brewshki, Ro-ob?” he asked as he rolled an empty off to the side.

“Nah, that’s okay,” I replied. I had only had one beer, but my conservative intake was a calculated decision. As kind and as well-meaning Ted had been to offer me one of my own beers, I had big plans for that night, and I wanted to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

I stood up and walked toward my closet. “Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“What kinna game?” he slurred. “I hope it’s none of that gay shit you prolly do all the time.”

“It’s a board game,” I said. “One I made earlier today.”

Ted gave a snort of derision.

“No, I’m serious. It’s a lot of fun.” From my closet I removed a large square of reinforced cardboard, two playing pieces, and a pair of dice. The board boasted a crudely-drawn ring of squares, most of which were blank, some of which had negative numbers scrawled inside them: -1, -2, and -3. I placed the game board between Ted and me and handed him a playing piece and a die. I kept an entirely different die for myself.

“?Sit have a name?” Ted asked.

“Not yet.”

“What’re the numbers for?”

“Uh... score,” I said. Without missing a beat, I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen from my desk and set them beside me. “They’re negative numbers, so they reduce your score. Which is, of course, the best way to increase your score! After both of us make one trip around the grid, whomever had the lowest score wins the game.”

“That’sh retardated,” said Ted, scrunching his face up. “Slet make it interesting. 20 bucks?”

I sighed in impatience. “20 it is.”

I rolled my die and landed on a blank square, as expected.

“I gotta piss,” Ted said.

I rolled my eyes. “Can’t you just wait till the end of the game? It’s short.”

“Fine,” he replied, throwing his hands up defensively. Ted rolled his die and it took him to a space marked -1.

“Okay, so what does that mean?”

“-1 score, remember?” I said. “You’re winning.” I picked up the pad of paper and the pen, but I didn’t write -1 beneath Ted’s name. I wrote 21.

“Great,” he said, taking a swig of the beer he’d snatched from my fridge. “Go.”

I rolled again, and landed on another blank square. It’s actually pretty easy to locate a pair of specially-weighted, custom-made, but cosmetically-identical dice. The challenge (and challenge is an understatement) was in finding an aged benign-occultist talented enough to bestow upon my ridiculous sheet of cardboard the precise supernatural qualities for which it had been constructed in the first place.

My die would always send me to blank spaces. Ted’s... not so much. He was going to win, all right.

Ted’s next roll took him to a -2, so I put a 19 under his previous score of 21. I decided to test the potency of the magic at hand.

“You’re taking Physics II this semester, right, Ted?”

Ted looked up at me as if I’d grown a third head. “?Course not, you idiot. Freshmen can’t take Physics II.”

He wasn’t undergoing any physical changes... it was all in his head. At that point, I knew for sure that Ted was merely a 19-year-old in the body of a man three years his senior. Everything was working out perfectly.

We kept playing. Blank space for me, -2 for Ted. Another blank square for me... -1 for Ted. The 16-year-old inside the 22-year-old Ted was oblivious. His mind knew nothing beyond who he was, knew nothing of what he had been. All Ted knew was that he was hanging out with this much cooler guy, three years his elder, drinking -- of all things -- beer!

“My parents would kill me if they found out I had a beer,” said Ted, scratching the back of his head and looking at the floor.

I chuckled. “Well, if you don’t tell them, neither will I.” I handed him another bottle, and the game went on.

Blank space for me. -2 for Ted. Yada yada yada me. -1 for Ted. I was definitely losing to my arch-rival; while my score hadn’t budged from its starting point of 19, he had managed to earn his way down to 13.

“Ever beat your meat?” Ted asked, whipping his head up from the game board just as I was about to take my turn.

I stopped shuffling the die in my hand and jerked my head up in confusion. The college senior was grinning at me mischievously, drawing his knees up to his chest and clapping them together.

“You know,” he giggled through his grin. “Jack off.”

My confusion turned into amusement and I crooked my chin in my elbow, appearing interested. “Not sure,” I replied. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Well,” he began, leaning forward and quieting his voice conspiratorially, “you know how your dick gets all hard and painful in your jeans when you see a pretty girl’s boobs?”

“Sure,” I said, holding back a chuckle.

“OK, so get this. If you take your hand? And you wrap it around your hard dick? Not too hard, not too soft? And you slide your fist up and down it for like 10 seconds? Your body locks up and your dick drips out a few little sticky white drops and it feels soooo good!”

I laughed despite myself “I’ll have to try that.” Finally, I rolled my die... blank space, natch.

Ted rolled such that he landed on a -2, mentally regressing him to the status of an 11-year-old. He was already more than halfway around the ring. Interestingly, the stakes went up considerably in the final stretch, with only a few squares blank -- and the numbered ones ranging from -2 to -3.

Blank square for me. -3 for Ted.

“Rob, I REALLY have to go pee now,” Ted whined. “Can I go now? Please? Please!?” The overgrown child was comically rocking on his butt, every so often thrusting his hands to his crotch and pushing against his cock.

“We’re almost done,” I said. “Can’t you wait a few more minutes?” Ted squirmed and nodded weakly, readjusting his legs and clutching feebly at the fly of his jeans. He shoved his finger up his nose and started picking to distract himself.

Ted ate what he pulled out and rolled again. -1.

“My teacher says I’m a good student an’ I got an A on my last writing thing an’ I won the spelling be well almost won cause the word was Tuesday and I spelled Tuesday right but I forgot to say ?capital before the first letter so I lost but I actually won cause that wasn’t fair.”

“Certainly doesn’t sound fair,” I said. “But you sure sound like a big, smart boy to me.”

“I am a big boy--” --the 22-year-old kept motormouthing-- “but last night Mommy was really mad at me cause I wet the bed again last night and she had to clean all my Turtles sheets again and she yelled at me cause I promised last month that if she let me stop wearing my Pull-Ups to bed at night I could keep my Spiderman undies dry and she said if I made her go through that again then she’d skip right past the Pull-Ups and put me back in” *sniffle* “baby diapers again for a week!”

He rolled a -2. On the scorepad, beneath Ted’s name and descending list of numbers, I scribbled a 5. When I looked up, Ted was sucking his thumb.

“Teddy, what are you doing?”

He looked embarrassed, blood flushing through his rhythmically inflating and deflating cheeks. I almost felt guilty for calling him on it. “Suckin’ my fumb.”

“Aren’t you a little old for that?” I asked.

“Mommy said it was okay if I stopped on my next birfday.”

I nodded and smiled at my handiwork. Ted had transformed from a vindictive, repulsive college senior into an absolutely adorable little boy... without losing a single inch of height or pound of muscle. It almost made me like the guy. Too bad the game was almost over.

Ted rolled his die one last time... dropped it, actually, as he was losing control of his motor skills. He moved his playing piece to the appropriate square: -3.

On my scorepad, there was a small note which read “GOAL: 2.” Beside it, I placed a checkmark.

Ted whined and started pawing wildly at the crotch of his jeans. I could tell his bladder was aching to burst.

“What’s wrong, Teddy?” I asked in my kindest, warmest voice.

“Me no wearin dipee,” he said in a weak, humiliated voice. “Me need dipee.”

“I think I may have just what you need.”

I congratulated myself on my foresight and pulled a diaper from my closet, one large enough to accommodate Ted’s 22-year-old body. Ted started clapping childishly when he saw it. He must have really liked his diapers as a toddler.

Ted needed help getting out of his blue jeans and boxers, and I was more than willing to assist him, provided he didn’t spray piss all over me and my bed. He must have had been a smart kid, since he managed to hold his bladder as I took off all of his clothes, mostly by squeezing his naked penis with two fingers and a thumb. I wrapped up the process by pulling Ted’s t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside to join the remainder of his big-boy clothes.

He obediently laid his naked body across my bed, spreading his legs in preparation from his much-needed diapering. I unfolded the double-thick disposable and slid it beneath the senior’s ass. I powdered Ted’s crotch and massaged the talcum into his thighs and along his cock. I couldn’t restrain a giggle as he developed a semi at my very touch.

“Ah, I almost forgot something.” I reached into a nearby bag and removed a small, baby-blue pacifier. On the knob of the pacifier was an adorable yellow bear driving a red speedboat. When Ted saw this, he clapped energetically once again, and practically snatched it from my hands before I inserted it into his waiting mouth. Ted sucked peacefully on his new binky, letting his eyes fall shut as I nestled a stuffed doggie into his arms.

Ted cuddled the doggie and sucked on the pacifier as I pulled the front of the diaper up between his powdered legs and held it to his muscular tummy, taping up either side with security and care. I guided my hands along Ted’s thighs, sending a shiver of pleasure up his spine as I tucked in the diaper’s legbands to prevent him from making a wet mess of my bed. A few moments later, Ted was as well-diapered and cozy as any little bundle of joy, and I stood back to admire my handiwork.

As if on cue, Ted began pissing his diaper. I glanced up at his face and found that his eyes were still closed, but a small smile was curling up around his pacifier as he emptied his straining bladder. His body gave a few gentle spasms of ecstasy, his mouth a few relieved sighs, as if he were experiencing the infantile equivalent of an adult orgasm. The front of his diaper quickly changed color from virgin white to saturated yellow. I watched the young man squirm in pleasure at the sensation of his hot piss coating his stiffening cock, coursing down his balls, and settling into the thirsty fabric between his powdery thighs. He even let out a little giggle. The kid was adorable, even as he moved his right hand down to the front of his warming, soppy diaper and began massaging his hardon through it. Ted bit down on the nipple of his pacifier as he squeezed and stroked and sighed.

While he busied himself jerking himself off through his wet diaper, I walked back to my closet, as I had one more thing to do. Perhaps the most important step of all.

() () ()

When Ted awoke the following morning, I was sitting at my computer, organizing some files. I had already cleaned and redressed Ted in his street clothes after he had fallen asleep and, if everything had gone according to plan, his mind had returned to its original 22-year-old state.

The first sentence out of Ted’s mouth was “What the fuck am I doing here?” Yep, he was back to normal.

“Have a good sleep, Ted?”

Ted leapt up and stomped towards me. He was fuming. “I said, what the FUCK am I doing here? In YOUR room?”

“You came here last night, man,” I said. “We had a few beers together.”

“I don’t remember that,” huffed Ted. “Did you drag me in here to rape me or something, you little faggot?”

I sat back from my computer and turned to face him, crossing my fingers behind my head. “Listen, Ted, I think it would be in your best interest if you laid off me for a while. The insults, the beatings, all that shit. Just stop, alright?”

Ted laughed. “Yeah, right. I’ll get right on that, scroatguzzler.”

“I’m just warning you, man.”

“Or what?” Ted asked, advancing on me. “What the fuck you gonna do about it?”

I slid my chair off to the side, exposing the contents of my computer screen to Ted’s gaze. The first thing he saw was a picture of himself, cuddling a stuffed dog, sucking on a pacifier, and wearing a very, very wet diaper.

Still smiling, I clicked through a few more pictures I’d taken the previous night. Ted masturbating through his diaper. A picture of the load of cum he’d managed to bust out the top of his diaper’s waistband and onto his chest. One of a curious Teddy coating the nipple of his pacifier in his load, and one of him happily returning the binky to his mouth. A few pictures I’d managed to snap during the few brief times he’d woken up during the night -- one of him rolled onto his back, sucking his naked toes with wild-eyed glee. Even one of him sucking his thumb with one hand and playing with his penis with the other.

“What, you don’t remember this stuff?” I asked. I didn’t even bother trying to hide my grin.

Ted balled his hand into a fist and wheeled back to strike me.

“Ah-ah-ah,” I scolded. “You do that, and I e-mail these pictures to everybody I know. Every last one of my friends. Every last one of YOUR friends. Maybe even print out a few to post around campus, just for good measure.”

“How--”

“Remember our little board game last night?” I asked, motioning to the cardboard on the floor. “You’d be amazed at how willing an occult store is to satisfy a customer when offered the right price.”

I reached into my pocket and took out a $20 bill, which I handed to the fuming Ted. “Oh, since you won the game, I mean.”

Ted’s hand was still tightened into a fist. I rose up from my chair and faced Ted, standing about two inches away from his face.

“Go ahead,” I said. “Take a swing. I can’t wait to show off my adorable Baby Teddy to the entire campus.”

I stared at Ted. He stared at me, too. His face flushed with crimson, I thought it was going to burst into flame. Instead, he turned around and went for the door.

“Don’t forget to take a shower,” I called after him. “Get all that cum and baby pee scrubbed out of your crotch.”

Ted hasn’t tormented me since. Every once in a while, I’ll e-mail Ted a picture or two of him nursing his semen-streaked pacifier and massaging his soaking wet diaper.

That’s the kind of insurance no lizard could ever sell you.

About This Story

On August 1st, 2007, upon the publication of "In the End," I vowed never again to visit the lolatrec well. On March 3rd, 2010, with the publication of "Leisurely Competition," I vow never again to vow things. Make no mistake-- this isn’t an unpublished 2007 tale, something "lost" or withheld. It’s freshly written and happily delivered to those who have supported me. And, as you can see, just as Lola Trechlyn’s seventh story was not her last, neither is her eighth.

I had always, in fact, planned to revise and rerelease a story I had written in 2003 under the pseudonym dioscuri, as I had when I repurposed "Overzealous" into "Losing Control." This time, I took my other dios story, "-20," and gave it the same spit-shine. I don’t like abandoning ancient material completely; when I have new skills, new kinks, and new methods, I’ve no reservation about bringing the oldies back with a fresh coat of paint. Insane, compulsive revisionism, a la George Lucas? Maybe, but he was trying to improve upon Star Wars. I’m trying to improve upon Battlefield: Earth.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this revisiting of a simpler time while little trip takes a much-needed vacation. That me’s got a dirty mind. There’s another treat waiting for you below... lolatrec’s ninth original story, "Lifelong Customers." Brand-new and based on nothing I’ve written up till now. See you on the other side!

Thanks for reading. -lt