Lost Cause (3)

Chapter 4
Part Four

Chapter Description: morning

Charlie awoke to the feeling of his thumb in his mouth and a cold, soggy diaper wrapped around his private parts. Sunlight cast shadows of crib bars across the teenager’s face. He was confused in that he had never before woken up in such a state.

The boy reached down and scratched between his legs. He itched and reeked of urine.

“Dr. Tompkins, please,” Charlie heard his mother say from the kitchen. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

The 16-year-old popped his thumb out of his mouth, unlocked the top of his crib, and brought the bars down. Carefully, he set his tired legs to the floor and toddled out of his nursery and toward the kitchen.

“Well, that’s just it, Doctor,” Charlie overheard his mother say. “I’ve never put him to sleep without first taking him out of his trance before.”

When Charlie arrived in the kitchen, he was ashamed to see Emily still there, hovering around the boy’s mother as if she were a nurse’s assistant. Mrs. Burbank sat on a stool, talking intently into the telephone. The teenager wanted to move his hands, to cover the front of his soaked diaper from his girlfriend’s sight, but he still felt too weak, too drugged, too controlled -- doubly so that he had just woken up.

“Uh-huh. I see.”

As per the terms of his hypnosis, Charlie returned his thumb to his mouth and dribbled his morning pee into his diaper. It dangled threateningly between the boy’s legs, causing his girlfriend to chuckle.

“I understand I was supposed to take him out of the trance first, but circumstances-- I see. Yes. Uh-huh. Alright. Thank you very much.” Mrs. Burbank hung up the phone.

Charlie yawned and stretched. “W...Wha was that all about?”

Mrs. Burbank sighed and turned to Emily. “There’s a problem, sweetie. We shouldn’t have put him to bed without taking him out of his hypnotic trance first. Apparently, the process of deep sleep wired the results of the hypnosis into Charlie’s brain a little harder than intended.”

Charlie shuddered. What was the meaning of this?

“Emily?”

“Yes, Mrs. Burbank?”

“Can you take this next week off of school?”

“I’ll check with my mom, but I’m sure I can,” smiled Emily. “Why?”

Mrs. Burbank sighed. “I’ve spoken with the superintendent and Charlie is welcome back at school after this one-week suspension, but Dr. Tompkins said that, as a result of the hypnosis, the drugs, and the sleep, Charlie’s going to be in this state for a while. He’s lost all control of his bladder and bowels.

“Now, I’m going to be in a conference in Arizona all week... if I leave you with the keys, some cash, and a list of items, would you be a dear and potty-train him for me?”

Charlie’s head began to spin. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe he was going to be trapped in this condition with his girlfriend for an entire week. And-- she would be potty-training him!

A nervous tear trickled down Charlie’s cheek as he visualized the week ahead. He saw himself at night, curled up with his drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend, only he’d be heavily diapered and nursing from a bottle. He saw himself during the day, toddling through the house wearing only his training pants, desperately trying to find Emily so he could tell her he had to go potty. He pictured Emily leading him by the hand to the bathroom and sitting him down on a purple potty chair, then holding his hand and coaching him on as he made tinkles for her. They’d sit together, Charlie’s face burning with morbid shame, waiting patiently for the sound of the teenager’s poop to hit the bottom of the potty chair. He saw his girlfriend clapping, congratulating him as he pouted tearfully, then wiping his butt before pulling up his Barney training pants. And if Charlie ever had an accident, he knew he would be back in diapers... and it would be his girlfriend who would have to change him. He didn’t want to go through that again. Not with his mother, not with Emily... not with anyone!

The 16-year-old burst into tears, his wails echoing across the kitchen walls. “Waaaaahhhhh!! I don’ wanna be potty-twained!”

Charlie’s mother and girlfriend looked on at the boy, clad only in his sodden diaper, in ultimate pity. Dejected, humiliated, and at a complete loss of strength, the teenager bawled like a baby as a stool worked its way out of his butt and settled into the wet fabric dangling between his legs. Charlie lost all control and all hope as he helplessly, reflexively, unclenched his muscles and pushed load after load of sticky crap into the seat of his bulging diaper. Emily stared on in mutual embarrassment and awe as her boyfriend messed himself so completely, so openly, and so loudly. Drops of salty tears splattered on the kitchen linoleum as the boy wailed around his thumb, the back of his diaper turning brown and hanging heavily from his hips. He had never felt so helpless, filthy, and utterly infantile in his life.

Emily approached her boyfriend, hoping to comfort him. Amusement had so quickly turned to empathy. She embraced him, kissed him into silence, and reassuringly ran her hand down his back and along his loaded diaper, pressing the stinking mess against his flesh.

“Does my baby need his didee changed?” Emily asked. “Does hims need Emiwy to teach him to use da potty?”

Charlie sniffled, nodded, and surrendered to his girlfriend the task at which his mother had failed; to make him a big boy.

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