After the Wave

Chapter 9
Going to Pasalacqua

Chapter Description: Chaos chapter. Now with micro! Meanwhile, back at the fraternity house...

Chapter IX: Going to Pasalacqua

I honestly believe that the three of them got a better shake than their fellow fraternity brothers back at the house.

Now, it could have just been a cosmic coincidence, but this episode leads me to suspect that the Wave had some semblance of sentience. Because none of the freshman pledges were affected-- just the older boys who had been hazing them with spankings, diapers, and forced bottle-feedings.

And my, how the tables did turn.

Paul was laid across an 18-year-old’s lap, saying nothing particularly intelligible during his bawling fit, as the younger boy repeatedly brought the palm of his hand down atop the other’s suddenly-sensitive behind. ...WHAP! ...WHAP!! ...WHAP!!!

To be fair to poor, tantrum-prone Paul, the 22-year-old had been given the emotions and locution of a shamed five-year-old. He was fully aware of his identity... perhaps some of his squealing and kicking was resultant from that. It couldn’t have all been pain.

When his ass was sufficiently red from what had been almost 100 swats, Paul was relieved to find that the storm had abated. It took him a while to stop bawling, though, and even that merely decayed into fevered sobs.

The younger student turned the senior over in his lap so he could look him in the eyes as he spoke. He wiped away a few of Paul’s stray tears with his thumb. The fraternity brother had already peed all over the pledge’s legs in fear.

“Now, is little Paulie going to be a good boy?”

Sniffles. “Yaaa. I be good boy. Pwomise.”

“Good. Then let’s get off the couch and nestle your dinky into a diaper. I don’t want to see you using the big-boy potty until after graduation.”

The senior’s bawling resumed.

A lot of students had it far, far worse. Some were transformed into actual five-year-olds, though the freshmen still showed them no mercy with the spankings and diaperings. The victims toddled around aimlessly, legs unsure from the foreign bulk between their legs and the glowing sting on their butts.

“How are you going to do your term paper now, boys?” hooted one pledge. “With crayons and paste?”

Some of the hardier kids held out longer than others, but ultimately, they were all crying. A particularly tough holdout didn’t start until he fell onto his diapered butt and began wetting it.

And the lion’s share of elder students retained their bodies but were simply outfitted with the minds of five-year-olds. One ran to the kitchen, giggling all the while, and repeatedly threw handfuls of used coffee grounds at the walls. Two others were pissing into the same toilet, trying to cross swords and maniacally laughing every time they managed to do it. By the time they were finished, the commode was splattered and dripping with urine.

One of them was fighting with another over the remote control; they were physically tugging it back and forth between them where they stood, screaming “I’ss my tuwn! I’ss my tuwn!” Another prankster pooped in the decorative planter in the corner of the living room, but most just chose to go in their diapers, because it felt good, and they were silly.

But Bill, the toughest and most antagonistic of the class of graduating students, had it the worst of all. He held on to his 22-year-old body and his 22-year-old mind... but at one point found out that he would, without question, immediately do anything anyone younger than himself told him to do. And he’d never again be able to do anything that hadn’t been preceded by someone giving him an order.

Seventeen-year-old Jason, his ass still raw from his paddling at Bill’s hands during the most recent hazing, was happy as a pig in shit when he discovered this. But he was far more clever than somebody who’d simply settle for “an-eye-for-an-eye.”

Jason stripped and diapered Bill himself. But, for the rest of the evening, Bill would be doing most of the legwork; Jason was the true brains of the operation:

“Lay across my lap like a baby.”

Bill, clad only in two diapers -- one taped over another -- toddled over to Jason and did so. He looked up at the pledge expectantly.

“I said like a baby.”

Drool sputtered from Bill’s lips and ran down his chin as he squealed and happily kicked his legs. He shoved a finger up his nose and ate what he pulled out. He clawed needfully at Jason’s chest.

Bill could hardly digest what was happening to him. Why couldn’t he stop making a complete fool of himself? In the lap of this tiny-ass freshman, no less?

“Take your bottle.” Jason had filled a baby bottle with chocolate milk and shoved the nipple into Bill’s drooling mouth. He began to suckle in earnest, stopping only when Jason told him to do so-- when there was no more milk in there to drink.

“Burp.” Bill burped, some of the chocolate milk erupting from his mouth and dripping down the side of his face.

“Play with this rattle and giggle.” And he was doing that, too, bashing it against the front of his diapers playfully, giggling at the sound that resulted.

“Shit your diaper.” Only when the smell hit his nose and the diapers flared out squishily against his lap did Jason’s smile lapse into laughter. He had become drunk with power, and high on vengeance.

“Again.” And, amazingly, Bill did. The Wave had provided him with whatever he needed to satisfy any boy or girl’s every order.

“Again.” Bill grunted and strained and dropped a third full load into his pants.

“AGAIN!!”

That was more than Bill’s new underwear could stand, and they suffered a blowout, leaking poop out of the back of, front of, and through the legbands of his diapers. Amazingly, the garments themselves remained firmly affixed around Bill’s waist.

“Aww, you got shit all over my new khakis! Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Bill said in his characteristic deep voice.

“No. Say you’re sorry as you’d imagine a baby would say it.”

“Me thowwy,” he squeaked. Then he shoved his thumb into his mouth and started to suck.

Bill was wrapped up in a blanket of emotions. There was guilt, remorse, regret, confusion, terror, anger, hatred, and this sudden, intense fear that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as big and strong a boy as he thought he was.

He didn’t know the half of it.

“Shrink,” spat Jason. “And take your diaper and shit with you.”

Is that possible? Can that really happen?

But it was already happening. Bill’s body quickly and very evidently began to decrease in proportionate size as he squirmed around in Jason’s lap. Moreover, the diaper and its contents shrank with him in perfect time. He wanted to scream, to protest-- but he hadn’t been ordered to do that.

So he just lay there, soundless, sucking his thumb as he dwindled in the lap of an increasingly-sadistic Jason.

“Stop.”

Bill was two inches tall. Incredibly, he was still squirming around on Jason’s left thigh, though the merest motion on the former’s part would send the latter tumbling down to a soft landing upon the center couch cushion.

Jason suddenly jerked his legs, and that’s exactly what happened.

He leaned down with his mammoth head and somehow managed to meet Bill’s eyes.

“You’re a little piece of shit, you know that?”

Nobody, pledge or brother, sat on the couch after that. All they wanted to know was who had dropped a deuce on it.

Now, now, kids-- don’t worry; Bill spent only 30 minutes motionless and in silence. Then, as quickly as he had lost it, he regained his full-sized, adult, human form. He was naked as the day he’d been born, true, but he was also mercifully clean and prepared to resume a full life of kindness, having at last discovered what it was like to feel like crap.

That being said, whenever he stepped out of line, a younger person always seemed to be hanging around, armed with a humiliating new command meant to put Bill back in his place.

publication to still be further additionally continued on Saturday the 3rd; thanks for reading so far. -luvs, lt hbslb