Long Story #1: A Mathematical Certainty: The Poobotomy (P2)
🕑 Added 2025-10-20 19:00:16 +0000 UTC
“Say hello to the nice freaks, Matty! They’re all here to see you make a nice, full diaper for them. I guess that part is actually pretty pedestrian though… They’re really here to see what will happen to you whenever you do start making a full diaper.”
“T-turn those f-fucking cameras off…!” Another groan, another helpless fart.
“No can do, brother. I’ve already accepted their money, after all, and I can’t go giving refunds to a show that’s going to air regardless. It sounds like that laxative is starting to kick in, isn’t it? Won’t be long now.”
“M-Marty, p-please… I don’t want… I can’t shit in front of…”
Martin gently hushed his brother and walked over to give him a pat on the crinkly bottom, “That’ll be the easy part, Matty… Well, not physically easy, since you’ll have to put in a lot of work to get it all out, but it’ll be the easy part to come to terms with. Let me ask you a question: do you remember mocking me all these years, over being really good with math? Trying to make it seem like catching a ball was somehow more impressive than doing differential equations? Well, you’re about to witness first-hand, just how impressive my math skills really are.”
Another grunt came from the other boy’s mouth, the gurgling in his belly becoming more furious by the second; his arms were shaking, and he looked almost as though he might be sick.
“...And me? I’ll get to witness first-hand, just how completely full of shit you are. Fun, right? Let me break it down for you, okay? I don’t want my hard work to go unnoticed, especially since you won’t be able to understand it soon. All those gummies you ate? Full of a very dense fiber. The medicine? Full of a special laxative and some muscle relaxers. Even a nitwit like you should be able to tell what those things should do to you, right?”
“..T-they’ll make me...H-have to poop...A lot…”
“And circle gets the square! That’s half of the equation right there, buddy, but not the whole answer. See, I kept tabs on how much food you ate, and I very carefully measured the exact amount of fiber and laxatives that you would need…”
Matthew raised an eyebrow, “N-need for what?”
The nerdy brother laughed a little, “Well, I guess you could call it… A poo-botomy? Clunky, I know, but I was never one for creative writing. You’re constipated, Matty; you’re all stopped up, because of all the fiber, but the laxative is going to make your bowels unable to stop sending the ‘push’ impulse to your brain. You ever wonder what would happen if you pushed too hard? Like, really, really hard? That’s the kind of thing that can cause a stroke, y’know… People die on the toilet all the time! But, I’m obviously not trying to kill you, so I was very particular with the exact amounts to give you. My work will be extremely precise, just as a good engineer’s work should be. You’ll blow out your brain to an irreparable degree, but you won’t be dead, or a vegetable.”
The horrifying nature of the explanation wasn’t lost on Matthew, but the shock of hearing such things was enough to silence him in that instance, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t stop what was trying to come through. After repeatedly farting in his diaper, his body wouldn’t accept any further half-measures; it was time to stage a full-on evacuation, even with Matthew being fully aware of the consequences that would come along with it. The grunting began again, and a redness crept onto his face as the strain started.
“You’ll definitely be too dumb for college, which will solve our dispute pretty quickly. As a bonus, you’ll be able to wear your precious diapers all the time, or rather, you won’t have any choice. You’ll be shitting and pissing yourself, and if my calculations are correct, you’ll likely be getting frisky in those diapers all day long too. I get to have an education, and you get to live out your disgusting fantasies; it’s a win-win, isn’t it?”
Whether Martin actually believed his own words or not, it shouldn’t have been controversial to contradict what he was saying. How could it be considered a ‘win’ for Matthew? Fetish or not, he had never indicated that he wanted his innermost personal fantasies to intersect in any way with the real world, especially in any manner that would prove permanent. No, this could only be considered a loss for him, and one which had no equal. If he were to believe what Martin was saying, which he had no reason not to, then he would be soon shitting his brain apart; the very act that he’d spent many sultry weekends doing in private, in the comfort of his own bedroom and of his own will, would be the very cudgel that clobbered his noggin into the same degree of mush that would soon be underneath him.
“N-no! Please...Please… S-stop it! I’ll g-give up college...I’ll--- MMPHHH! NGGHHH!” His own words morphed from human language into that of a mindless beast, as his body was forcing him to start pushing, and thus he couldn’t prevent the guttural greetings associated with defecation.
“That’s a nice sentiment, Matty, but I’m afraid that it doesn’t matter now. I couldn’t stop things even if I wanted to. As soon as you finished eating everything I gave you, your fate was decided; everything is already in motion, and short of calling for an ambulance right this moment, there’s nothing to be done to stop any of it. It’s already over for you, and now it’s just a matter of waiting for everything to finish up.”
Matthew heard no lie come from between his brother’s lips. Just as Marty said, the die had already been cast, and his brain had been a dead man walking for the last hour at least. Now it was truly just a matter of letting things play out, and by the end of it, Matthew would end up just as he’d read about in smutty stories online.
The burning white inferno inside his belly would not relent, and it felt as though he had a stack of bricks in his gut. As his knees dug harder into the carpet, and his fingers gripped at the lavender fibers, he had to keep pushing. Harder and harder, whether or not it felt as though he could make any progress. His skin got hot, reflected in both the increasing redness of his face, and the trickles of sweat beginning to form across his brow. The process felt utterly futile, like a man trying his hardest to push a ten-ton boulder out of the way, but whose muscles wouldn’t allow him to give up. Matthew’s bowels were so irritated by the special laxative that he’d been given, that they were essentially stuck on ‘push’, with ‘clench’ not even remotely being an option; if the same laxative was administered to anyone else, in any other circumstance, then they’d surely be shitting their pants uncontrollably for the rest of the day.
“HRGGGGHHHH! HMMMMPHHH!” More loud grunts and groans, more huffing and puffing from exhaustion, and veins beginning to bulge at his temples.
More parts of his body were beginning to become pink with heat, and the sweat that had earlier been reserved to his brow, was now beginning to dampen more of him. Finally, after minutes of horrible pushing, he could finally feel himself crown; there was only a small amount of relief that he could associate with the sensation, because there was also a pain to it. The turtle-head that he’d so vigorously worked to earn, was the tip of something truly titanic; it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that the turd, a few inches past the end, was the circumference of a soda can. Drool started to course down his chin as Matthew pushed, not a lot, but enough to add another level of degradation toward his act.
Picked up by the camera that was angled directly at his rump, a small bump was showing in the back of the thick diaper. This didn’t go unnoticed by the anonymous viewers who’d paid a fortune for the private show, as evident by the associated chatroom going off about it:
: “Look! Hallelujah, it’s starting! Anyone want to bet on how long it’ll take?”
: “I’d rather bet on how long it’ll be whenever he pinches it off.”
: “Or maybe bet on how retarded he’ll be afterwards? I’ve seen some ‘botched’ brain surgeries before on these streams, and that’s the part that’s always most interesting.”
: “Agreed, @Cromwell. This is easily the most creative method I’ve seen before though; I think I’ll have to remember to find some copycats in the future…”
The gnarled log, which currently only rested gently against the plush padding, was as solidly dense as a rock, and nearly as heavy too. Now that the floodgates were officially open, Matthew could known no peace until he’d let the invader completely through, and by doing so, he’d be allowing his own destruction. Now, more than ever before, he was compelled to keep pushing, as all prior resistance was officially gone. Every grunt, every full-body shudder, every gnashing of teeth, was proof of another inch being allowed exit, and the proof was in the slowly increasing bulge behind him. It would start as the stubby tail of a rottweiler, but the poopy protrusion was only just beginning to bud, and soon it would bloom into something of unimaginable proportion.
Martin watched from the couch, his own feelings difficult to parse. At the start, there had still been some semblance of guilt, or disgust with himself for concocting such a wicked scheme, but those feelings of self-reflection began to dull. They were instead replaced by a scientific fascination, or maybe a morbid curiosity, and wrapped up nicely by darker feelings of retribution and karmic justice. He was only doing what needed to be done, and just as he’d always thought, this was exactly the sort of end that Matty deserved to have. Besides, if his brother ended up becoming a professional football player, then what difference would this really make? His brain would have ended up like tapioca either way!
The adult diaper, as truly impressive as it was in its construction, could only stretch the material so far. As the pole of poop reached past nine inches, the tented bulge was as far as it could stretch, and so instead, the diaper itself was being pushed outward. The taut waistband, which had been tight against Matty’s skin, was pulling out, which allowed cool air to wisp down the back and chill his sweaty buttcheeks. It made the front of the diaper tighter, which coincidentally only made his member grow more stiff from the rubbing of the inner material, when he’d already been rocking a quarter-chub from the constant stimulation his prostate was currently getting.
As the megalithic mess continued to surge, crackling slowly out with each heaving shudder of Matty’s whole body, the cracks in his sense of being were beginning to show. He was running out of room for the solid pole to go, which was making it even harder to continue, which made him have to strain even harder. Once he’d reached the ‘foot-long’ point, it was time for the climax of the whole show, and though Matthew thought he still had plenty of time left with his current level of intelligence, the genius mathematician adjacent to him, was perfectly aware of what was about to happen.
Everything hadn’t just gone to plan, but also to schedule. The calculations had indeed been perfect, down to the last second, with a very small margin for error.
“Go ahead, Matty! Push! You’re almost done!” Martin encouraged, getting up and going behind his brother to give the elongated bulge a gentle rub. “You’re so very close…”
Matthew didn’t need to be egged on, but only because things were as close to automatic as they could be, while still feeling manual. The pushing had to be a lot harder now, for a lot longer at a time, and he felt white spots in his mind after each one, like a swift, silent seizure in the brain. His face was going purple, his brow was furrowed as far as it could be, and the veins popping out were beating like a war-drum. He was drenched in sweat, all over his body, and his diaper even felt wet, not from piss, but from the sweat of his strain.
‘PUSH, PUSH, PUSH---- POP!’
And there it was, audible on camera, the moment that his brain mangled itself from physical over-extertion. His gasket was popped, his lid was flipped, and it happened more quickly than anyone could have expected.
The effects were immediate: his slobbering mouth gaped completely open, his size-mismatched eyes became vacant and set in different directions, a massive snot bubble blew and popped from each nostril, and a damp stain formed on the crotch of his diaper, from the massive sticky shot he’d involuntarily blown during the brain-bust. The efforts hadn’t been completely in vain either, as the extreme level of pushing had also managed to push the turd out another several inches, and having nowhere to go horizontally, it instead began to finally coil like a length of rope.
: “There he blows! My god, look at his face! Look at the back of that diaper!”
: “Got a bulge like a football back there. Ironic, right? And check out the front too! Dude cummed all over himself.”
: “Just as promised, he shit himself into being mentally retarded. Kudos to our curator today for such a creative result. If you look at his face, I’d wager that his IQ score is in the low forties now, and all without ever directly confronting the noggin itself!”
: “Look, he’s trying to talk! I wonder if he can still even say anything.”
“P-Puh...Puhhhh…” His mouth tried to sound out, slowly opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
A juicy fart sputtered, and it continued on for what would end up being almost a full minute, having lows and highs like the intro to a progressive rock song. Just as his face had slackened, his body was doing much of the same, and now the record-size steamer was rapidly escaping with much less resistance than before. The back of the diaper continued to fill up, undoubtedly on the way to holding more than the manufacturer could have ever intended for.
“POOOO!” Matty managed to squeal, his chest drenched in his own saliva, his vocabulary and focus being whittled down to the lowest possible level.
It came as no surprise to Martin, who had calculated as much. With the heavy intellectual damage, and a kink that’d already been present, it could be estimated that Matty would wind up being a very horny, very scatological, very shameless retard.
The dimwit shut one eye shut and strained some more, the crackling behind him continuing a few more inches, easily having reached two-feet in length by this point, though now it was taking the shape of a rigid python piled betwixt his cheeks. Snot bubbles continued to form and pop, spattering his red face with bits of green. On a particularly difficult push, his eyes rolled inside his head, and his tongue lolled out, having to push as hard as earlier, though without risk of further brain damage.
In the final few minutes of his unloading, the initial turd would finally break off, and the subsequent logs would be of a more average size. The lumpy exterior of the diaper looked strained beyond its limits, but it held stalwart like a champ, keeping the immense heft of his legendary load contained. He’d ceased having to push with all his might by that point, which had allowed him the luxury of putting a hand down the front of his diaper, to work his large shaft as he pushed out luggage more quietly.
“And there we go, ladies and gentlemen! The lights are on, but there’s nobody home… And also the bulbs are pretty low wattage too. Now, before we finish things up, maybe I could interest someone in some last-minute requests? My crypto-wallet is open and ready…”
It was a done deal, though Marty was greedy enough to try to get a bit more before it was all over. He’d be getting his tuition money for sure, now that Matty was very openly a shit-loving retard, and he’d have plenty of perks due to the money he’d raised from the stream, but there was always room for a little more green. He already had a plan in place to explain how this had happened, so he didn’t need to worry about covering his tracks either; it was tragic for a football star to get some tainted drugs and become a shell of his former self, but Martin knew that their parents would provide all the care that Matty would now need.
Math was a wonderful thing, a powerful thing, and as always, it would continue to open doors for someone who so masterfully knew it.
