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"writing": "[center][b]This is a work of fiction.[/b] All characters depicted are fictitious and not related to nor inspired by actual persons. The characters in this story are anthropomorphic animals.\n\nIf you enjoy yourself while reading, please feel free to leave a comment!\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------[/center]\n\n Carol loved her grandson. Despite his mental problems, she saw him for the perfect little angel he truly was, and never for one second resented that she had to care for him. It was the least she could do for the poor thing. Especially after what his parents had done to him.\n She smiled and glanced in her rear-view mirror to check on Max—her precious boy—and his special little friend, Timmy. The two of them were singing and clapping along to a song from Max's favorite CD that they always listened to during trips in the car, \"Barney's Classic Songs: All the Favorites.\"\n Timmy giggled at a particularly silly lyric. Poor Timmy. His little noises always reminded Carol of the day of the chess tournament. Nobody knew exactly what had happened to him, but the best guess was that Timmy's mind had finally cracked under the overwhelming pressure of his academic expectations. His father had been so disappointed. But then again, Michael never seemed to be impressed with anything Timmy had ever accomplished anyway.\n Beside his scholarly pursuits, Timmy had volunteered his free time to help out by tutoring Max after school. It had been how the two of them first met. Carol recalled how pleased Mr. Avery was that someone of Timmy's prestige would help out his class, and for almost nothing in return. And Timmy was always thankful Mr Avery had allowed him to partake of the juice boxes from the special ed class's refrigerator, too, but he never would have admitted to enjoying such an apparently childish allowance.\n She again looked at Timmy in her rear-view mirror. He looked so happy, singing along with Max in his carseat. Much happier than before. But those times were gone, and maybe it was for the better.\n Carol had been impressed with the boy's drive. When she'd asked him about his reasons for volunteering, Timmy always said that it was because he wanted to be a special education teacher himself when he was older, and that working with Max helped him gain valuable experience. In Timmy's current mental state, however, it seemed that his dreams would remain unrealized forever.\n Nonetheless, Carol was pleased that the two of them still got along so well after the incident. Maybe, she considered, they actually got along even better now that Timmy was no longer capable of thinking he was any better than Max, even subconsciously. Carol understood all too well how normal people tended to think of the mentally challenged, but she would never allow herself to get too upset about it. Not anymore.\n She'd seen Max called by many uncharitable names throughout his life: retard, useless, idiot, failure... The terrible words visited her mind, each in turn. She clenched her teeth and tried to remain calm.\n Max's parents were devils in the flesh. They were the entire reason he had ended up with a disability in the first place. Their delusional beliefs only served to hurt him in the end, and when he failed to meet their impossible expectations, they simply stopped loving him. \n The music stopped and the car went silent. The ambient hum of the van rolling along the highway only served to invite Carol deeper into her thoughts.\n What was that ridiculous excuse they'd come up with?\n Carol remembered... They had claimed it was some kind of occult ritual gone wrong... That it was supposed to bless him with the power to transcend the limits of his mind...\n She squinted as she tried to remember more, but did a double-take when she noticed Max was staring at her in the rear-view mirror with an expression that bespoke much more intelligence than he should have been capable of.\n Carol blinked, shook her head and returned her eyes to the road. It was just her old nerves playing tricks on her, she rationalized. When she dared to look again in the mirror, Max was his usual bubbly—hopelessly retarded—self again. Relief washed over her.\n Max let out a goofy chortle when he saw her glancing back at him again, then said, \"Nanna!\" trying to get her direct attention for more than just a moment. His voice was thick with his retardation, and his tongue seemed to work against his wishes as he chewed on the single word.\n \"What is it, baby?\" Carol answered. Her smile returned as soon as she heard his adorable voice.\n \"Barn-ee!\" Max said, his voice sliding upward into a squeal.\n Carol chuckled. Of course she should have known he only wanted to hear more of his silly songs. \"Just a second, honey. I'm putting on your other Barney tape now. Ok?\" She realized after saying it that she'd referred to the CD as a cassette tape, which only made her chuckle again, this time at herself. All the new technology lately sure was hard to keep up with, she mused.\n Fortunately, she had just stopped at a traffic light, and she had just enough time to change the discs around without having to fumble with them while driving. As the new CD slid into the player, Carol heard Timmy fussing behind her. She decided to turn around to get a quick look at him before the light changed back to green.\n Timmy was buckled securely into his carseat, on the opposite side of the car from Max's. His five-point harness and lap bar were snug as they should be, and there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary to speak of, but he was whimpering softly.\n Her viewing angle from the driver's seat allowed her to notice for the first time that Timmy couldn't see Max unless he leaned forward, due to the sides of the carseat's head rest obscuring his peripheral vision. Proving the observation, Max was hunched forward over his lap bar, gawking at Timmy beside him.\n But Timmy was obviously upset. His head was pressed backward firmly against his cushioned head rest. His gaze darted between his carseat's buckles, the window beside him, and then to Carol. His eyes locked onto hers. He attempted to speak, and it almost sounded like he was pleading with her. The words slurred together into a meaningless jumble, and she was incapable of understanding.\n Carol searched his expression and movements for meaning, but just as she leaned toward him to really take in what he was trying to say, the new Barney CD began playing its first song, and Timmy was immediately placated. She watched his expression soften into a contented grin as he and Max started their best effort at singing along.\n It turned out that Carol's nerves had just been playing tricks on her again. First Max, and then Timmy, both seeming as if there was something strange going on with them... \n Could a mentally retarded boy like Timmy really communicate anything other than the most infantile concepts? No. And Carol knew she had to keep herself from believing otherwise. Impossible fairy tales like the ones Max's parents believed in were best left in the realm of fantasy.\n She shook her head and turned forward in her seat just in time for the traffic light to turn green. With a sigh, she decided to just focus on driving instead of her worries. \n No more strange ideas about the boys, she resolved. She had to be there for Max, because nobody else would be. Nobody else would ever unconditionally accept him for what he was—what he and Timmy would both be for the rest of their lives. She needed to accept that they would be retarded forever, and that it just wouldn't do to waste any more time entertaining delusions.\n\nInterlogue: Timmy's Desperation\n\n The torturous, infantile music had stopped, and Timmy could feel himself regaining more and more control over his thoughts. He needed to act quickly, that way he might have a chance to tell Ms. Barnes that he was trapped in his own mind.\n He would finally get away from Max and his magical corrupting influence. He would finally escape his dorky outfits and thick diapers and humiliating sing-alongs. But only if he could make the best use of his precious moments of relative mental clarity.\n His eyes continuously darted around, scanning the van for anything he could manipulate. First at his carseat's lap bar, then to the door, then all around for any other possibilities. He quickly realized that his avenues of escape were practically nonexistent, especially while the van was passing through unfamiliar territory.\n For a mercy, the carseat's head rest kept him from seeing anything on either side of him, and importantly kept Max out of his sight. Any contact with him, be it direct or visual, was enough to send Timmy spiraling back into the degrading behavior that his retarded self simply loved.\n There was a sudden shift in the air, and Timmy whimpered as he realized that Max could somehow sense his lack of control over him. In response to feeling his influence slipping, Max made a point to specifically request more Barney music from his grandma.\n It was then that Timmy understood. The humiliating Barney songs were responsible for draining his intelligence in lieu of direct contact with Max. It was the only logical way to explain why he'd been able to think clearly for the first time that day as soon as the music had stopped. \n Timmy tried his hardest to get Ms. Barnes' attention, but before he could do anything to stop her, she had already pushed the CD into the player. However, due to his audible fussing she turned around to check on him; and just in time for him to regain just enough control to attempt to speak some words of his own choosing. He had to act quickly.\n He adopted a serious expression and tried his hardest to communicate through the fog of his retardation. No matter what he tried though, his mouth refused to fully cooperate with his intentions. The only thing he could seem to manage was pitiful braying, fit only for the most cranky of retard tantrums. He was still too slow.\n \"Naauu uh ree tarr!\" He choked on his words as his mind raced to think of anything at all that would reveal that he was still smart. That he was trapped in his own head because of Max's powers. That he wasn't a retard. He had to hurry! He—\n Barney's theme song chased his thoughts from his head. The cheerful melody tickled Timmy's mind, and he let out a sharp giggle in response. The heels of his shoes scraped against the car's carpeted floor, the last vestiges of his control vanishing. He could feel his desperation melting away as his lips curled into a dopey grin.\n Timmy had failed... And he loved it.\n Just as Ms. Barnes turned around to focus on driving—right in the middle of singing the very first verse—Timmy stopped, grunted, and tensed his body. Without thinking, he hunched over his lap bar and lifted his bottom slightly. He gave himself just enough room to push a stinky mess right into the awaiting seat of his bulky diaper, which was of a special brand made for mentally retarded teen boys like him. The steady relief he felt caused him to vocalize a low \"uhh...\" with his mouth wide open. His saliva production quadrupled, and his chin was soon dripping with the appropriate amount of drool for a retard like him.\n \"Timmy loves to smile and drool! Timmy loves diapers!\" An ethereal voice that sounded like Timmy's own enveloped him.\n It was utterly enthralling. Each time the distant voice spoke, it reinforced his lowly, permanent new place in the world. Timmy was powerless to resist as the words became his reality. Timmy giggled as the drool ran down his neck and onto the collar of his dress shirt. Timmy loved his diapers.\n Nanna didn't seem notice he'd pooped himself though. She never complained about how stinky he and Max always were, so her sense of smell probably wasn't very good. Which was a shame, because Timmy loved being a stinky retard. He wanted everyone to be able to smell how stinky he was!\n And Timmy loved how stinky Max was, too. Being embarrassingly stinky was a very important part of a retard's identity, after all, and Max was no exception. He especially delighted in the smell of Max's stinky socks when he would take off his shoes after a long day at school.\n Timmy curled his toes inside his socks and shoes. It actually wasn't typical for Timmy to wear shoes anymore, so today was extra special in that regard. Most mornings, Timmy's daddy would strap his comfy sandals onto his feet over a pair of his silly socks; and when Timmy arrived at special ed each day, Mr. Avery would usually just remove his sandals and his pants for convenience. That way, it would be easier to change his dirty diapers throughout the rest of the day at school.\n Timmy smiled and squirmed as he continued filling his diaper. He was just so excited to see how stinky his socks would be after wearing his shoes all day!\n \"Timmy loves being stinky! Timmy loves silly stinky socks!\"\n Timmy moaned in ecstasy as he finished pooping. It still wasn't the orgasm he so desperately craved, but each time he'd messed his diapers recently it had somehow become more and more pleasurable. It occurred to him that soon he would probably just give up trying to have orgasms altogether. There was a disturbing allure to embracing the nearly orgasmic relief that washed over him each time he made stinky in his pants.\n \"Timmy loves giving up! Timmy loves being helpless!\"\n But underneath it all, his inner self was still desperate for a real orgasm—the release he'd been tantalized by, and denied ever since the wretched day of the chess tournament. As he lowered his bottom back down onto his carseat, his penis could only throb uselessly as his poopy mess squished into the front of his diaper. Despite his inner anguish, he had a huge smile on his face, his breathing was ragged, and his face was hot with lust.\n \"Timmy loves being pent up and horny forever and ever!\"\n No! He needed to ram his cock against his poopy diaper! He needed to... uh... make stickies!\n In the midst of his desperate writhing, Timmy froze with realization that he'd lost focus for just long enough to find himself looking across the van toward...\n Max! His best friend!\n Max was leaning over his lap bar, watching Timmy with glee. A toothy grin dominated his face, his chin was likewise wet with drool, and he bobbed his head to the music. He was really happy, and he needed Timmy to be happy with him...\n Timmy scrambled to hold onto the only lucidity he'd known since the previous day, and he was wracked with frustration at his lack of control. He screamed, but there was no scream to be heard. 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If you enjoy yourself while reading, please feel free to leave a comment!
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Carol loved her grandson. Despite his mental problems, she saw him for the perfect little angel he truly was, and never for one second resented that she had to care for him. It was the least she could do for the poor thing. Especially after what his parents had done to him.
She smiled and glanced in her rear-view mirror to check on Max—her precious boy—and his special little friend, Timmy. The two of them were singing and clapping along to a song from Max's favorite CD that they always listened to during trips in the car, "Barney's Classic Songs: All the Favorites."
Timmy giggled at a particularly silly lyric. Poor Timmy. His little noises always reminded Carol of the day of the chess tournament. Nobody knew exactly what had happened to him, but the best guess was that Timmy's mind had finally cracked under the overwhelming pressure of his academic expectations. His father had been so disappointed. But then again, Michael never seemed to be impressed with anything Timmy had ever accomplished anyway.
Beside his scholarly pursuits, Timmy had volunteered his free time to help out by tutoring Max after school. It had been how the two of them first met. Carol recalled how pleased Mr. Avery was that someone of Timmy's prestige would help out his class, and for almost nothing in return. And Timmy was always thankful Mr Avery had allowed him to partake of the juice boxes from the special ed class's refrigerator, too, but he never would have admitted to enjoying such an apparently childish allowance.
She again looked at Timmy in her rear-view mirror. He looked so happy, singing along with Max in his carseat. Much happier than before. But those times were gone, and maybe it was for the better.
Carol had been impressed with the boy's drive. When she'd asked him about his reasons for volunteering, Timmy always said that it was because he wanted to be a special education teacher himself when he was older, and that working with Max helped him gain valuable experience. In Timmy's current mental state, however, it seemed that his dreams would remain unrealized forever.
Nonetheless, Carol was pleased that the two of them still got along so well after the incident. Maybe, she considered, they actually got along even better now that Timmy was no longer capable of thinking he was any better than Max, even subconsciously. Carol understood all too well how normal people tended to think of the mentally challenged, but she would never allow herself to get too upset about it. Not anymore.
She'd seen Max called by many uncharitable names throughout his life: retard, useless, idiot, failure... The terrible words visited her mind, each in turn. She clenched her teeth and tried to remain calm.
Max's parents were devils in the flesh. They were the entire reason he had ended up with a disability in the first place. Their delusional beliefs only served to hurt him in the end, and when he failed to meet their impossible expectations, they simply stopped loving him.
The music stopped and the car went silent. The ambient hum of the van rolling along the highway only served to invite Carol deeper into her thoughts.
What was that ridiculous excuse they'd come up with?
Carol remembered... They had claimed it was some kind of occult ritual gone wrong... That it was supposed to bless him with the power to transcend the limits of his mind...
She squinted as she tried to remember more, but did a double-take when she noticed Max was staring at her in the rear-view mirror with an expression that bespoke much more intelligence than he should have been capable of.
Carol blinked, shook her head and returned her eyes to the road. It was just her old nerves playing tricks on her, she rationalized. When she dared to look again in the mirror, Max was his usual bubbly—hopelessly retarded—self again. Relief washed over her.
Max let out a goofy chortle when he saw her glancing back at him again, then said, "Nanna!" trying to get her direct attention for more than just a moment. His voice was thick with his retardation, and his tongue seemed to work against his wishes as he chewed on the single word.
"What is it, baby?" Carol answered. Her smile returned as soon as she heard his adorable voice.
"Barn-ee!" Max said, his voice sliding upward into a squeal.
Carol chuckled. Of course she should have known he only wanted to hear more of his silly songs. "Just a second, honey. I'm putting on your other Barney tape now. Ok?" She realized after saying it that she'd referred to the CD as a cassette tape, which only made her chuckle again, this time at herself. All the new technology lately sure was hard to keep up with, she mused.
Fortunately, she had just stopped at a traffic light, and she had just enough time to change the discs around without having to fumble with them while driving. As the new CD slid into the player, Carol heard Timmy fussing behind her. She decided to turn around to get a quick look at him before the light changed back to green.
Timmy was buckled securely into his carseat, on the opposite side of the car from Max's. His five-point harness and lap bar were snug as they should be, and there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary to speak of, but he was whimpering softly.
Her viewing angle from the driver's seat allowed her to notice for the first time that Timmy couldn't see Max unless he leaned forward, due to the sides of the carseat's head rest obscuring his peripheral vision. Proving the observation, Max was hunched forward over his lap bar, gawking at Timmy beside him.
But Timmy was obviously upset. His head was pressed backward firmly against his cushioned head rest. His gaze darted between his carseat's buckles, the window beside him, and then to Carol. His eyes locked onto hers. He attempted to speak, and it almost sounded like he was pleading with her. The words slurred together into a meaningless jumble, and she was incapable of understanding.
Carol searched his expression and movements for meaning, but just as she leaned toward him to really take in what he was trying to say, the new Barney CD began playing its first song, and Timmy was immediately placated. She watched his expression soften into a contented grin as he and Max started their best effort at singing along.
It turned out that Carol's nerves had just been playing tricks on her again. First Max, and then Timmy, both seeming as if there was something strange going on with them...
Could a mentally retarded boy like Timmy really communicate anything other than the most infantile concepts? No. And Carol knew she had to keep herself from believing otherwise. Impossible fairy tales like the ones Max's parents believed in were best left in the realm of fantasy.
She shook her head and turned forward in her seat just in time for the traffic light to turn green. With a sigh, she decided to just focus on driving instead of her worries.
No more strange ideas about the boys, she resolved. She had to be there for Max, because nobody else would be. Nobody else would ever unconditionally accept him for what he was—what he and Timmy would both be for the rest of their lives. She needed to accept that they would be retarded forever, and that it just wouldn't do to waste any more time entertaining delusions.
Interlogue: Timmy's Desperation
The torturous, infantile music had stopped, and Timmy could feel himself regaining more and more control over his thoughts. He needed to act quickly, that way he might have a chance to tell Ms. Barnes that he was trapped in his own mind.
He would finally get away from Max and his magical corrupting influence. He would finally escape his dorky outfits and thick diapers and humiliating sing-alongs. But only if he could make the best use of his precious moments of relative mental clarity.
His eyes continuously darted around, scanning the van for anything he could manipulate. First at his carseat's lap bar, then to the door, then all around for any other possibilities. He quickly realized that his avenues of escape were practically nonexistent, especially while the van was passing through unfamiliar territory.
For a mercy, the carseat's head rest kept him from seeing anything on either side of him, and importantly kept Max out of his sight. Any contact with him, be it direct or visual, was enough to send Timmy spiraling back into the degrading behavior that his retarded self simply loved.
There was a sudden shift in the air, and Timmy whimpered as he realized that Max could somehow sense his lack of control over him. In response to feeling his influence slipping, Max made a point to specifically request more Barney music from his grandma.
It was then that Timmy understood. The humiliating Barney songs were responsible for draining his intelligence in lieu of direct contact with Max. It was the only logical way to explain why he'd been able to think clearly for the first time that day as soon as the music had stopped.
Timmy tried his hardest to get Ms. Barnes' attention, but before he could do anything to stop her, she had already pushed the CD into the player. However, due to his audible fussing she turned around to check on him; and just in time for him to regain just enough control to attempt to speak some words of his own choosing. He had to act quickly.
He adopted a serious expression and tried his hardest to communicate through the fog of his retardation. No matter what he tried though, his mouth refused to fully cooperate with his intentions. The only thing he could seem to manage was pitiful braying, fit only for the most cranky of retard tantrums. He was still too slow.
"Naauu uh ree tarr!" He choked on his words as his mind raced to think of anything at all that would reveal that he was still smart. That he was trapped in his own head because of Max's powers. That he wasn't a retard. He had to hurry! He—
Barney's theme song chased his thoughts from his head. The cheerful melody tickled Timmy's mind, and he let out a sharp giggle in response. The heels of his shoes scraped against the car's carpeted floor, the last vestiges of his control vanishing. He could feel his desperation melting away as his lips curled into a dopey grin.
Timmy had failed... And he loved it.
Just as Ms. Barnes turned around to focus on driving—right in the middle of singing the very first verse—Timmy stopped, grunted, and tensed his body. Without thinking, he hunched over his lap bar and lifted his bottom slightly. He gave himself just enough room to push a stinky mess right into the awaiting seat of his bulky diaper, which was of a special brand made for mentally retarded teen boys like him. The steady relief he felt caused him to vocalize a low "uhh..." with his mouth wide open. His saliva production quadrupled, and his chin was soon dripping with the appropriate amount of drool for a retard like him.
"Timmy loves to smile and drool! Timmy loves diapers!" An ethereal voice that sounded like Timmy's own enveloped him.
It was utterly enthralling. Each time the distant voice spoke, it reinforced his lowly, permanent new place in the world. Timmy was powerless to resist as the words became his reality. Timmy giggled as the drool ran down his neck and onto the collar of his dress shirt. Timmy loved his diapers.
Nanna didn't seem notice he'd pooped himself though. She never complained about how stinky he and Max always were, so her sense of smell probably wasn't very good. Which was a shame, because Timmy loved being a stinky retard. He wanted everyone to be able to smell how stinky he was!
And Timmy loved how stinky Max was, too. Being embarrassingly stinky was a very important part of a retard's identity, after all, and Max was no exception. He especially delighted in the smell of Max's stinky socks when he would take off his shoes after a long day at school.
Timmy curled his toes inside his socks and shoes. It actually wasn't typical for Timmy to wear shoes anymore, so today was extra special in that regard. Most mornings, Timmy's daddy would strap his comfy sandals onto his feet over a pair of his silly socks; and when Timmy arrived at special ed each day, Mr. Avery would usually just remove his sandals and his pants for convenience. That way, it would be easier to change his dirty diapers throughout the rest of the day at school.
Timmy smiled and squirmed as he continued filling his diaper. He was just so excited to see how stinky his socks would be after wearing his shoes all day!
"Timmy loves being stinky! Timmy loves silly stinky socks!"
Timmy moaned in ecstasy as he finished pooping. It still wasn't the orgasm he so desperately craved, but each time he'd messed his diapers recently it had somehow become more and more pleasurable. It occurred to him that soon he would probably just give up trying to have orgasms altogether. There was a disturbing allure to embracing the nearly orgasmic relief that washed over him each time he made stinky in his pants.
"Timmy loves giving up! Timmy loves being helpless!"
But underneath it all, his inner self was still desperate for a real orgasm—the release he'd been tantalized by, and denied ever since the wretched day of the chess tournament. As he lowered his bottom back down onto his carseat, his penis could only throb uselessly as his poopy mess squished into the front of his diaper. Despite his inner anguish, he had a huge smile on his face, his breathing was ragged, and his face was hot with lust.
"Timmy loves being pent up and horny forever and ever!"
No! He needed to ram his cock against his poopy diaper! He needed to... uh... make stickies!
In the midst of his desperate writhing, Timmy froze with realization that he'd lost focus for just long enough to find himself looking across the van toward...
Max! His best friend!
Max was leaning over his lap bar, watching Timmy with glee. A toothy grin dominated his face, his chin was likewise wet with drool, and he bobbed his head to the music. He was really happy, and he needed Timmy to be happy with him...
Timmy scrambled to hold onto the only lucidity he'd known since the previous day, and he was wracked with frustration at his lack of control. He screamed, but there was no scream to be heard. He demanded that he stop wasting time and start humping the crotch strap of his carseat's harness, or anything at all that might grant him even a little bit of sexual relief. But it was all for nothing.
The only thing he could do was smile and sing along to Barney with his best friend. He was a retard, and there was nothing he could do to change it. Not that he ever wanted to.
"Timmy loves Barney!"
It was true.
But Timmy loved his best friend, Max, even more.",
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