After the Wave

Chapter 6
Obligatory Classroom Scene

Chapter Description: Chaos chapter. Many different things are going on here.

Chapter VI: Obligatory Classroom Scene

The Wave didn’t leave the junior high school untouched. The social studies teacher was out of the classroom and his students were engaged in quiet study time-- busying themselves with doodling, texting, and playing Angry Birds. The absence of the teacher was good for the doomed seventh-graders’ sense of dignity in the face of authority. But their grasp of the concept of embarrassment amongst one another was still fully intact.

Ryan’s mind was the first to be warped. The Wave gave the 12-year-old no quarter.

“Guys?” he said. Twenty-four pairs of eyes looked upward. “There’s something cool I gotta show you.”

Ryan wasn’t upset about the suggestion that had been implanted in his mind. In fact, he was excited. He’d suddenly figured out a new way of impressing his peers. The boy’s grin was wide as he stumbled out of his chair, drunk with anticipation.

“Check this out,” he said to his classmates. Then he bowed his legs, squatted a bit, and started pooping in his pants.

At first, there was little indication to his friends of what Ryan was doing. All they heard was a brief sound of flatulence; all they saw was a dumbly-grinning adolescent. For that matter, even Ryan wasn’t sure he had enough in him to pull off the feat.

But all it took was a grunt.

Ryan was so proud of himself when he felt the slippery mess begin to ooze out of him, when it started filling up his boxer-briefs, causing them to sag within his loose-fitting jeans. His classmates weren’t as thrilled. The odor left nothing to the imagination.

“Wait, wait, guys!” he whined to the gawking crowd. “I’m not done!” More grunting. More mess.

When he started pissing his pants-- that was incidental, something that merely happened because Ryan had been struggling to empty his bowels. In fact, he resented the intrusion of that ingredient-- and then he blushed a perfect crimson. He was wetting his pants in front of all his peers. It was so embarrassing. Their laughter hurt. Couldn’t they see that he was trying to impress them by loading up his underwear with filth? Pay attention to THAT!, he wanted to scream. But, by that point, all he could do was grunt, whine, and beg with his eyes.

Finally, both expulsions came to an end. The mess upon the boy’s backside was so monumental as to threaten bringing his underwear slopping to the floor were it not for his ruined jeans. Ryan was proud of that and he hoped his friends appreciated what he had managed to accomplish. The puddle of urine in which he was standing almost ruined the moment, though. It was humiliating.

Tyler was the next to be struck. Fortune wasn’t smiling upon him, either. In the blink of an instant, the 13-year-old was dressed as a baby.

The molecules of his clothing had completely reconstituted themselves to transform the conventional duds of a young teenager into an exaggerated version of what a baby might wear. Most of what Tyler had been wearing had gone into his crisp disposable diaper, padding it out with polymers to an almost comic extent. His expensive sneakers had become soft, blue booties, tied off at the ankles with tiny bows. The boy’s baseball cap -- which he suddenly regretted having worn to class against school policy -- had become a frilly bonnet. And the pen upon which he had been chewing was the most adorable pacifier one could imagine.

That was it. That was what he had to work with. And it couldn’t have come at a less opportune time.

Maybe it was the Wave. Maybe the teen hadn’t taken care of business when he should have. All Tyler knew was that his bladder was at capacity, and he’d been given the urinary control of a four-year-old: Almost adequate to get on in life, but not quite.

Enough to stem the flood so that the boy could leap away from his desk and make a beeline for the door. The laughter at his ridiculous outfit was piercing him, as well, but he had more important things about which to be concerned.

Maniacally did the teen waddle towards the boys’ room. It wasn’t very easy. The thickness of his diaper separated his thighs almost prohibitively. His hands, clutched to his puffy groin, weren’t helping. He was tripping and sliding on account of his new booties. And he hated the pacifier. The taste of rubber was driving him to distraction. He’d been a thumbsucker as a child, born and raised.

At last, Tyler arrived at the restroom. He toddled awkwardly towards the urinal and stood in front of it.

The young teen’s fingertips slid helplessly against crinkling plastic.

Tyler started whining as he clawed frantically against the front of his diaper. Where was his zipper? How could he get his dick out? How the fuck do you work this thing?

At last, when warmth and sogginess were the only sensations that greeted his fevered clutching, Tyler knew it was too late. Still, he tried to find a zipper, a set of buttons, anything from which he could release his genitals and at least get some of his pee into the urinal. But he couldn’t figure his diaper out. He might as well never have known such a garment existed.

Sniffles exuded from the boy, who had suddenly elected to nurse from the pacifier as a wildly unsuccessful means of comfort, when he realized that the most recent few squirts of urine that had saturated his underpants were the final ones. Tyler was wearing the contents of his bladder. What would he tell his friends? How could he play basketball, crinkling and squishing around like an idiot, tripping over his booties?

He didn’t even want to think about his parents changing him. But there was no one else to do it.

In the classroom, there was some strange amalgam of order and chaos. Somebody had figured out that opening the window, grabbing Febreze from the storage closet, and forcing Ryan out of the room was the best way to attenuate the malodorous scent of the boy’s shit. That represented order. And, when the Wave brought its effects upon its victims, it was done in sequence. One at a time. That, too, represented order.

The chaos was represented in the humiliations visited upon the students. Cory had gone around and French-kissed everybody, loudly proclaiming that he was trying to break his “kiss record.” Angelina’s back was hurting; her rival, Julia, was clinging to her shoulder like a baby chimp, terrified as all hell that there was a chance their touch would separate.

And the quest to purge the room of the smell of stinky babies ended rather decisively when a handful of kids ended up in diapers. One was inspired to grab part of a portion of the mess out of the back of his diaper and cram it down the back of the one worn by his best friend. The best friend didn’t mind. In fact, he wondered why he hadn’t asked to sit in his friend’s poop more often.

Boys who weren’t busy sucking on their own newly-naked toes were nursing upon those of other boys. Adrian moaned loudly as the guy seated on the floor in front of him, Jack, slathered his tongue all over Adrian’s denuded feet. The 12-year-old had his first-ever ejaculation because of that-- right into his diaper. Then, Adrian started sucking on Jack’s toes, which led to a similar result. This continued until supernatural amounts of semen were spilling from both of their legbands.

Cory ran around the tableau, hollering. “I need more people to kiss! I’m not a man if I don’t kiss people!” But, having run out of mouths, he proceeded to assholes.

Julia was already sucking milk from Angelina’s left breast. The sensation startled her when Cory pulled down the back of her jeans and shoved his tongue up her butt. The sensation startled the non-diapered boys even more.

It was about that time that the teacher walked in. “What the hell?,” I believe, were his last intelligible words before he whipped back in time enough years to leave him a diapered newborn, squirming on the floor. He couldn’t get his thumb into his mouth quickly enough!

I heard it took the unaffected members of the custodial staff a week to clean that room-- and the guidance counselors still longer to work with adoption agencies to find new parents for a teacher who’d become quite unintelligent, and quite giggly.

publication to still be further continued on Monday the 29th; thanks for reading so far. -luvs, lt