Some New Disaster

Chapter 5
Lesson IV: Diapers

Chapter Description: M/M diapers, bodily functions, vengeance, and humiliation. I thought putting diapers in one of my stories would be an interesting change of pace.

The undisputed asshole of the class stood in front of it. That was bad news for him. The good news for the class was that its undisputed asshole stood in front of it with his back to it, and all he was wearing was a pair of virgin-white, double-thick, disposable diapers. They fit him so naturally that it was a wonder to many that he hadn’t been wearing them his entire life.

But he hadn’t. He had built his reputation on being the most relentlessly antagonistic son of a bitch Willowbrook High had ever seen. Misogyny. Racism. Homophobia. Beatings. Ostensibly, these were the reasons he had been chosen by Miss Berdette to model her lesson on diapers. The teacher felt as if it would have more of an impact-- if not on the class, than on the boy. In at least one respect, she’d been right; all eyes of the class were held in rapt attention, transfixed on the diapered bully standing before them.

“Let’s pretend this is a baby,” the teacher said. Her students had no problem with -- and even took great pleasure in -- the hypothetical image.

“He is!” called out one boy.

“No need to pretend,” muttered a female student.

Nick was the name of the 18-year-old diapered F-student, and he endeavored to muster the combined strength of every neuron in his brain to whirl around and systematically beat the shit out of anyone and everyone who stood in his way-- starting with Miss Berdette, then moving on to Corey, his favorite victim, all the while swinging his fists back and forth in a holocaust of assaults that would have left a lot of spilled blood and lost teeth in its wake.

Instead, he stood there, frozen in place, his hands nervously tucked behind the small of his back, a thick and crinkly disposable separating his thighs by inches.

“Boys, girls,” Miss Berdette scolded, though her seriousness came off as more than a little disingenuous. A few students wondered whether they actually detected the crook of a smile elevating one side of the teacher’s lips. “This is all for educational purposes.”

“I’m going to fucking kill every last one of you!” Nick screamed. “Every single--”

The silent man in the back of the room scrawled a few notes on his sheet of notebook paper.

“Can’t we just get this overwith?” Nick whined.

“I thought you’d never ask,” sighed Miss Berdette. “The lesson here is on changing a baby’s poopy diaper.”

“...Let’s not just get this overwith,” amended a visibly-distressed Nick. The class was shocked-- they had never seen Nick distressed about anything. When something upset him, he answered it with a clenched fist.

“Now, class, changing a diaper is one of the most daunting tasks you’ll have to face as parents. Babies don’t poop like adults. They do it a lot more often, and there’s not much solidity to it, and it’s almost a substance undefined by science.”

No laughter.

“I’m still workshopping that joke,” said Miss Berdette. “Anyway, we don’t have an actual baby here... just someone who often acts like one. Nick, show the class what a poopy diaper looks like.”

Nick faced the whiteboard, looked upward, and sighed. “There’s no way in hell--” and the smooth, white seat of his diaper began to grow brown and lumpy... in waves, as if he was pushing everything out individually-- as if he retained some modicum of control.

But the boy didn’t. He leaned down, put the palms of his hands on his knees, and grunted. Strained. Lumps of filth emerged from his body, but only spread out into stinking brown mess as they pushed up against the seat of his diaper.

The consummate bully stood straight up and whined like a baby. It just kept coming. His attempts at stopping it only brought more waste out of him. The storm didn’t end until his body was totally empty.

Nick was a very big boy with a very loaded diaper. He reached down and felt what he had done. What hadn’t spread across his backside and made its way to his balls had coalesced into a humiliation the size of a softball.

The girls in the class were the first to notice the malodorous nature of the offense.

“Jesus,” one said, “did he actually manage to generate that!?”

“No wonder boys get their own bathroom.”

“Some bully he is. The only bullying he can pull off now is towards people with functioning noses.” That little quip had actually come from Corey, a young gay man everybody except Nick seemed to like.

Nick felt a lot smaller than usual. Just as he had usually felt when nobody was around.

“Corey?” asked Miss Berdette with an uncharacteristic smile. “Would you like to demonstrate how to change a little boy’s dirty diaper?”

The 17-year-old felt his heart flutter. Not in any permutation of romance -- but in a sense of good, old-fashioned, revenge. All the agony he’d suffered at the hands of Nick. All the tears. All the slurs. All the beatings.

Corey nearly knocked his desk to the ground leaping out of it and running to the front of the class, as if there were a chance Miss Berdette might suddenly change her mind and pick someone else.

Nick whirled around in a fury, his mess slapping against the skin behind him. There was fire in his eyes and his fists were balled up.

The man in the back of the classroom wrote another sentence.

There was need in Nick’s eyes, and his hands fell open, weakened.

Corey was grateful to have been provided with all the supplies he’d need. As Nick lay down upon the ground with an audible squish, his perennial victim dragged to his side a canvas bag full of supplies designed for babies as big as Nick. Corey unzipped the inventory and started organizing things.

Nick felt his muscles -- and then his will -- begin to weaken, at just about the time Corey untaped the larger boy’s diaper and unfolded it.

“Pee-yew!!” Corey cried theatrically, much to the amusement of a clapping class of students. “It’s a good thing we’re changing this poopy baby now... he might get rashies all over his peepee!” The smaller kid was loving every minute of it.

Nick was enjoying none of it. He was burning. He was melting. He wanted little more than to vaporize into nothingness as the little gay boy he had slapped around for years cleaned the shit off his ass and from between his thighs with uncomfortably cold baby wipes. He wanted to lash out and scream as another unfolded diaper was slid beneath his ass -- hadn’t he done the demonstration already!? -- and as oil and powder was massaged into his privates.

In a calculated move, Corey balled up Nick’s fist -- the same one that had made contact with Corey’s jaw so often in the past -- and pulled the thumb from it, pressing the digit to the big baby’s lips. The bully started suckling, preventing him from moaning as he developed an erection at Corey’s touch. The boy’s gentle massaging of oil and powder into Nick’s privates had given the bully a painfully throbbing hardon.

“Now,” explained Miss Berdette to the remainder of the class, “sometimes your child will develop an erection as you prepare him for his new diaper. That’s perfectly normal and is the result of a pleasantly nervous reaction.”

Grinning down at him, Corey stroked Nick’s cock, watching the self-proclaimed badass squirm helplessly with his thumb affixed firmly between his lips.

Corey leaned down to Nick’s ear and whispered.

“Good thing I’m a quote-unquote ‘fucking faggot,’ am I right?” Corey smiled. “Let’s see how many girls are gonna feel like getting your rocks off when they’re changing your shitty diapers.”

Nick started to cry as Corey pulled the double-thick up between his legs, taped each side securely, and tucked in both legbands. The littler boy patted the front of his bully’s fresh diaper lovingly, teasingly, adding a tight squeeze to the final pat. Nick shuddered at the touch...

...and had an orgasm.

The delinquent squirmed and crinkled and moaned and squealed around his thumb as his balls unloaded themselves into the front panel of his diaper. Contraction after contraction sent jets of hot cum into Nick’s baby pants, causing him to suck his thumb harder and drag his heels helplessly along the tile floor. The laughter from the classroom somehow made him ejaculate even harder. Corey merely looked down in amusement until the other teen let out a final, exhausted wail-- then collapsed completely to the floor, his thumb falling from his mouth, dragging a long line of drool with it.

“Aww,” Corey cooed in his best conception of a parent-of-an-infant voice, “did widdle Nicky habs a accy-dent in hims didees already?”

Nick didn’t reply. He simply tried to catch his breath, his eyelids pressed closed.

“Welp, too bad,” smirked Corey, again patting the front of Nick’s diaper. This time, there was no pleasure for the older boy-- just painful sensitivity. “I’m not changing you again. Maybe you can get a girl to do it next time... if you’re still into them, I mean.”

Nick realized that, in a dusty corner of his mind, a decommissioned switch had been activated. He would henceforth only be able to cum if he was wearing diapers or having his dirty ones changed. He had no idea whether anyone -- girl or boy -- would be into that. But there was always the internet, and Rule 34 gave him a glimmer of hope.

Then Corey lurched away and made the trek back to his desk. His eyes met those of the unspeaking employee in the back of the room, whose pencil continued to dance furiously.

He nodded to him. Corey received a nod in return.