Message-ID: <13298eli$9807231505@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Dream Spinner" Subject: ST: At Their Mercy - 08 (m/b/b/b, scat, mind control) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980723035750.3798.qmail@hotmail.com> Warning Welcome: This is a story about us (Jay and Tyler, age 11, and Billie, age 9) taking over the mind of a forty-four-year-old man. If you don't like stories about poopy diapers, you might wanna skip this part. If you do, then you can thank R****** along with us for this idea. If you got any ideas yourself what we can do with ol'man Wallace that we haven't already done, let us know and we'll do it. Then we'll make him tell you all about it. At Their Mercy - Part 8 When I could not take my usual dump and morning piss last Friday, I immediately suspected my preteen tormentors were involved. When Saturday came around and I still had not felt any need to perform those two basic bodily functions, I knew the three boys were responsible. At ten that morning their arrival confirmed it. "Hi, Mr. Wallace," they greeted cheerfully as they came sauntering into my kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator and cupboard. "Boys," I replied, trying to sound pleasant so as not to offend them, although I had come to associate their presence with my humiliation. Whenever they arrived, I had a staring role in the performance of one of the most perverted acts I have ever known. They helped themselves to the Gatorade and bag of Nachos that I kept on hand just for them. "You better strip so we can get going," said Jay. Over the past two months I have done many things under the hypnotic control of these boys, and I have learned I might as well go along with them as much as I can for my own health if no other reason. Willingly exposing myself was crossing the line even though they have now seen me naked plenty of times. "Ah, shithead. Haven't you learned not to fight us yet?" asked Jay with irritation. The key word immediately put me under their hypnotic spell. The boys had something big planned or they would not have put me under so quickly. I had learned by now that they enjoyed toying with me as much as they enjoyed making me perform obscene acts for their entertainment. "Now, strip you fucking shithead." "Even though I've seen it seven times now, I still can't get over how the old fart obeys us the moment he hears the word shithead," observed Billie as I began to unbutton my shirt. "Me neither," agreed Tyler as Jay left the room, "but isn't it neat?" "Fuck yeah," swore Billie. "And what we make him do is even neater!" The two boys laughed as they helped themselves to another handful of Nachos. I was just stepping out of my underwear when Jay retuned with a couple shopping bags. I had no memory of making the purchases, but evidently I had. In the first bag was a pack of adult extra large disposable diapers. I stood there helplessly as he opened the pack up and put one on me. Tyler and Billie glanced at each other and giggled. This was followed by a pair of extra large plastic pants. In the other bag was a pair of men's shorts, brilliant lime green, and a polka dot short- sleeved shirt. "What do ya think?" Jay asked the others once he had dressed me. Billie and Tyler were laughing so hard they could not answer. "Okay, shithead, listen real close. Today you are a little boy, and we are your babysitters. We want you to talk and act just like a two-year-old. Course you can really understand all the words you understand now, and you can think just like you do now, you just can't act or talk like an adult. You got that?" "Uh-huh," I replied, nodding my head as a two-year-old might. "Right-on," Jay said and the three boys high-fived. "Now, when you hear someone say the word 'good', you are going to start to poop your diapers. And when you hear someone say 'nice', you are going to start to pee. When someone says 'great', you will stop pooping or peeing. Understand?" I nodded my head, my adult mind screaming its objection to what the boys had in mind but being unable to do anything about it. With those simple instructions, we headed outside and down to the park at the end of the street. There were several mothers and little children and a few slightly older children at the playground. Being a bachelor and sticking pretty much to myself, I did not know any of them by name, but I did recognize them all of being from the neighbourhood. "Go ahead, baby Wally, you can play on the playground while we have a visit," said Jay with a wide grin. I ran over to the swings immediately, the baby part of my mind bubbling with excitement, the adult part dreading what was going to happen. "Swing," I said, pointing to the swings. "Yes, that's right," said Jay with a smile. "Swing," I said more emphatically. "Oh, you want a push?" I nodded my head enthusiastically. When I was really a child of two, I could have spent the entire day on a swing set if anyone had let me. Now forty-two years later, I was feeling the same way again. The three boys glanced at each other with huge grins. Jay came over and helped me get on and then pushed me for a while. Quickly tiring of that, he told me to go play on the slides. All the mothers were looking at me strangely, and some of the children were also. I played on the slide and got my babysitters to play with me on the teeter-totter for a while. It took all three of them to balance me. They quickly tired of that and we returned to the swings. Two of the older boys came over to where we were and got on the swings beside me. They were about four or five years old. After looking at me for a while, the braver of the two boys spoke up. "There something wrong with him?" "What do you mean?" asked Jay. "He's sortta big to be liking to swing so much." "Yes, he is," agreed Jay. "So, is he, you know, stupid or something?" "Yeah, Baby Wally has a problem that way." "He's a retard?" "Yup." "He your brother?" "Nope. We're babysitting him." "He's weird." "Yeah, he is. You mind him playing on the playground?" "No. It's just weird seeing an adult playing on all the stuff is all." "So you think that's bad?" Jay asked, glancing at the others with a twinkle in his eyes. "No, just weird is all, not good or bad," the boy replied innocently. I immediately began to release the shit that had been filling my intestines for the past two days. The first warm, thick turd eased out easily. A mixture of emotions passed over me. I was thankful for the final relief, and the physical sensation was pleasant to both my two-year-old mind and my adult mind. Of course I was embarrassed as hell, and feeling the warm shit oozing along my butt crack was weird. Most of all, I was angry with my tormentors for their control over my simple bodily functions. The boys all noticed the odour immediately. "Great," Jay said after a moment. "I think he just farted," the braver of the two boys whispered with a grin so his mother would not hear. "Uh-oh. Baby Wally, did you go poop?" "Wally go poop," I replied as if it was a perfectly natural thing to say as I nodded my head. "You're kidding! He didn't?" the boy giggled as he glanced at me, then at Jay and finally at his buddy. "Yep, he did. Gotta put a diaper on him." "Bet it's a big one!" He and his friend giggled with amusement. "It certainly is," observed Billie. "When he goes, he's got lots of poop." The two boys laughed, and then one called his younger brother of about three over. "Hey, this retard poops his pants." "No way." "Can't ya smell?" "Yuk. He stinks." "He certainly doesn't smell good," Tyler said with a twinkle in his eye. I immediately began to force out another turd, refreshing the air. "Yuk, I think he's doing it again!" "Hey poop head, that feel good?" Even at two years of age I would have known they were teasing me. I began to turn red. "Hey he's poopin' so hard his face is turnin' red!" "Baby Wally, it's bad to poop your pants," Jay said sternly. "And it certainly can't feel very great." I ceased my efforts to evacuate my bowels even though there was still a lot more left. It did not feel great. I could feel the hot mush along the crack of my ass and down between my legs. It was sticky and foul smelling, and I felt filthy. "Yeah, pooping your pants is not nice," observed Billie. I began to release my bladder, and after holding it all this time, the release felt good despite my situation. The hot piss soaked into the padding around my crotch and began to spread across my stomach. "Hey, how come he looks like that?" asked the first boy. "Baby Wally!" scolded Jay. "Are you going peepee?" "Baby Wally peepee," I announced gleefully. "Oh great!" I stopped. By this time the circle of kids had grown to about nine, ranging in age from probably two to six. As each newcomer arrived he was told what was happening and the group of tiny kids giggled and pointed and held their noses. "That's weird, a grown man peeing himself." "He's a big dumb poophead," observed one of them. "I'd sure hate to change his diapers!" "Yuk, that's for sure." "Hey, poophead, you like going in your diapers?" I looked at my baby sitters for help. "He doesn't know it isn't good," observed Jay. I resumed emptying my bowels much to the amusement of the boys around me. I should have known I would not get any help from my three tormentors. The teasing began anew. "Yeah, he doesn't know it isn't nice," agreed Tyler. I continued emptying my bladder, soaking the front and underside of my diaper and feeling the piss spread across my belly. I stood there, forty-four years old, crapping and pissing my pants, the butt of amusement and teasing from a gang of little children, and there was nothing I could do about it. "Com'on, Baby Wally, lets go for a slide," said Billy wickedly. The others all knew perfectly well why he suggested it, and they followed me with perverted amusement. I went over to the slide and slid down it as the kids all glanced at each other knowingly. I could feel the hot, sticky shit oozing inside my diaper and spreading across my butt. As I walked, I could feel it hanging between my legs. The stink was overpowering and I noticed the children were keeping their distance. Gradually my audience wandered off or left with their mothers. Finally it was just my three tormentors and I. Taking me down to the ravine, Jay pulled down my lime green shorts. "So, ya havin' fun, Mr. Wallace?" I shook my head. "Bet you're really hating us right about now," he said as a matter of fact. "Yes," I said. "That's too fuckin' bad," he said simply. "Get on you knees, shithead." Unable to do anything other than glare at him, I did as I was told as he pulled down his fly. "We don't want your diapers getting dry, Baby Wally," he said with a wicked grin. Pulling out his penis and pulling open the top of my plastic pants, he moved close to me. A second later a yellow stream erupted from his dickhead and splashed against my diapers. I stood there helplessly as his piss soaked into the padding and the aroma of fresh piss enveloped me. When he was done, he stood there and laughed as he shook himself off. We returned to the playground. Finally around noon the boys decided it was time to go for something to eat. I drove them to the MacDonald's near by. The heat in the car was oppressive, and the stink from my dirty diaper unbearable. Of course the boys would not think of going through the drive-through. As we sat there eating, the patrons around us all moved away from the stink emanating from me. A number looked at me with disgust, evidently wondering how a grown man could be so careless in his personal grooming. A few glanced over with sympathy, evidently realizing the problem couldn't be as simple as that. If they only know just what my problem really was. I sat there embarrassed as hell and wondering if a two-year-old had any such feelings at that young age. I also wondered when this humiliation was going to stop. After lunch, we went shopping at the Target Store. The boys wanted me to buy them some comics and some gum, something they seemed to be continually chewing. As we approached the clerk, she wrinkled up her nose and took a step back. She gave me a look of disgust. I wanted to tell her just what her place was, and lecture her about judging people without knowing anything about them, but all I could do was stand there and give her as mean a glare as a two-year-old can. We returned to the playground, and the boys took me down to the ravine. "Well, Baby Wally, you want some candy?" Tyler asked, handing me one of the suckers I had just bought the boys. As I began to suck on it, he drew down my shorts and had me kneel like Jay had. "Gotta keep those diapers nice and wet," he said with a grin as he began to empty his bladder. His hot piss soaked into the padding of the diaper and into my shit. All I could do was kneel there sucking on my sucker and let my eleven-year-old babysitter soak my diaper with his urine. "He's such a shithead," observed Jay. "Yeah, but he's our shithead," Billie said with a grin and the three boys laughed as they high-fived. We returned to the playground and to a new group of children who soon discovered my situation. They surrounded me and teased and taunted me, all to the amusement of my tormentors. All I could do was stand there and take it while my three babysitters lay down on the grass and read their new comic books. Midafternoon Billie added his piss to my diapers. We returned to the McDonalds for an afternoon snack, and then went back to the Target store to buy the boys some water pistols. Throughout it all, I tried to ignore the chaffing between my legs and the fact my diapers were stuck to my body. I could not ignore the looks the other shoppers and the clerks gave me. The boys finally took me home around supper time. "Thanks asshole," Jay said, at last pronouncing the cue that released me from their hold. "Smell ya later." The boys all giggled and gave themselves high-fives as they headed up the street. I went into the bathroom and removed my shoes and socks and slipped off the shorts and shirt the boys had dressed me in. Very carefully opening up the adhesive tapes, I slowly removed the sodden, shit-filled diaper and placed it in a plastic garbage bag. My stomach, butt and legs were smeared with shit. It was caked to my pubic hairs and between my legs and was wedged up the crack of my ass. Stepping into the shower, I washed for over half an hour, but I could not really clean my lower body as well as I would have liked. The inside of my thighs, my genitals, and my ass crack were so raw and sore I could barely touch them. I applied Vaseline to the tender areas, including my red, itching penis. Putting on a fresh pair of diapers in the hopes they would be more comfortable than shorts, I crawled into bed even though it was only seven o'clock. I was totally exhausted. As I was drifting off, I made a mental note to myself that tomorrow I was going to have to get some talcum powder for my diaper rash.--====================987654321_0==_ Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----