🕑 Added 2025-10-05 18:53:03 +0000 UTC
Lucas was mostly quiet during the tour, his poker face only faltering whenever they came across the testing rooms, but he bit his tongue. From Andrew's perspective, it was like his twin brother had really changed for the 'better', which gave him immense satisfaction.
Afterward, the two would go out to drink as a celebration. The events of that evening would be the last things Andrew remembered in the life of luxury that he'd lived. What came next was a series of blackouts and hazy memories, where time would become meaningless for him. Flashes of operating tables and garbled discussions, before he would fade back into darkness.
The next time he woke up for real, he felt disoriented and sickly; his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his face hurt, and it felt as though he was sitting with a pillow under his ass. He shifted with a groan, and something crinkled conspicuously underneath him.
"You're up? Good. I was worried I wouldn't get to be here for the big reveal."
It was his brother's voice, but it wasn't coming from nearby; his voice was being projected through a speaker on the ceiling. Andrew tried to look around, but the room was still rather dark, and his vision was blurry from the grogginess of waking.
"Ugh...Head is killing me...And my face..." His hands went to rub at his temples, and then down his face, and something felt very off about it.
"Yeah, well, that's to be expected for a few weeks. According to Dr. Hulidi, at least. He did a great job though, considering the time crunch"
"Great...Job?"
Lucas laughed, "You were never happy we looked so much alike, right? You thought I was a blemish on the family name, right? Funny, because from where I've always stood, it felt more like I was the one clean speck on a big-ass blemish. You and dad, just soulless ghouls to the bitter end..."
Andrew didn't like where this was going, not one bit. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like jello, and they were pushed apart by whatever was around his waist. Suddenly, the lights to the room flickered on, and he could see that he was in a familiar space: the testing room.
Looking down, he could also see he was wearing one of the products: a massively thick diaper of the highest grade, intended for adults with absurdly low IQ.
"What kind of sick joke--"
"--Sick joke? No. The only joke is that anyone let you near the levers of power. You're not just an evil scumfuck, Andy, you're also a complete moron. You have to know that, right? That dad always paid off your teachers to make sure your grades looked nice? Pretty poor planning on his part, since he put your name in the will. You know you weren't his first choice, don't you? He begged me to take over when he passed, but I turned him down. Over and over again."
Andrews massive ego wouldn't allow him to acknowledge that, but it was undoubtedly true. Lucas was the smart brother, and if he hadn't been such an empathetic person, then he would have been a significantly better choice for who should run the family business. Andrew couldn't be trusted to run a lemonade stand, let alone a multi-billion conglomeration.
"I was going to let bygones be bygones, because I just wanted to wash my hands of the whole family name. I was perfectly happy as an investigative journalist, where I could work in total anonymity. But then, I got a little tip-off about that whole car fiasco, and it reminded me how many people would eventually be destroyed by your greed and idiocy."
It was Lucas who the whistleblower had broken the story to? That was why he had returned to seek 'reconciliation' with Andrew? The revelation made the man's eyes widen, and in his shock, he didn't notice a warmth beginning to spread around his crotch.
"The whistleblower actually told me a lot more than I published. In exchange for promising to take care of you personally, he agreed with leaving your name out of the story altogether. How's that for deal-making? Isn't that something you like to tell people you're good at?" Lucas chuckled again.
"That wasn't the only deal I made either. I made a deal with the surgeon to make a large contribution to his practice and overall community, under your name of course. He was all too willing to change your face, mutilate some muscles, and disconnect some nerves...
Oh! And let's not forget the owner of the factory, who you were about to fire, so that I could take his spot. In exchange for keeping his position and being better funded, he happily agreed to not only look the other way with what I was doing to you, but together we'll be turning the ethics of this place around. No more bad working conditions, no more bad wages or slaves, and the quality assurance will be revamped to be on a fully willing basis... Well, save for the poor souls that you broke badly enough to be incapable of anything else."
Andrew knew what Lucas was talking about: the jagged scars on the sides of their heads, where it was obvious that the factory had claimed not only their bodies, but their minds as well, all to make a better garment to shit inside of.
"You'll be the last unwilling participant, Andy. You'll become a slave here, whose job is to piss, shit, hump, and cum in those diapers. Frankly, I'd say its the only job you've ever really been qualified for. Meanwhile, I'll be going back to the states as you, so I can clean out the filth that our family has cultivated. My only regret is that you'll get all the credit, but I think I can live with that."
There was a definitive resolution to the words that Lucas was weaving; there was no deception, no fear-mongering, just plain facts that described what the future would look like. Words that would condemn Andrew to the kind of paltry existence that he'd spent an entire lifetime both looking down upon and forcing others into.
Because of his greedy decision to eschew assuring quality on a single line of products, he would now spend the rest of his days testing out the quality of the lowliest products imaginable. No more caviar, no more supermodels, no more sports cars and private jets.
Just diapers. Diapers and the turds that filled them. Forever.
He was too furious to speak, and maybe too torn asunder by fear. Instead, he howled a warcry, and he tried to make a break for the door of the plexiglass cell he was contained in. Every step was wrong, barely manageable; not just from the immense bulk of the diaper, but because the muscles in his legs felt barely strong enough to stand, let alone sprint.
Halfway across, he toppled forward and landed on his bare stomach; his only remaining garment was the diaper, and his only accessory was a collar around his neck. On impact, a fart sputtered powerfully into the back of the diaper, in a way that was completely out of his control. He was too worked up to be embarrassed in that moment though, and with flatulence wildly assaulting his diaper with poots and toots of varying sizes and strengths, he was desperately trying to clamber back to his feet.
Just as Lucas had informed him, the nerves that controlled signaling to his bladder and bowels had been surgically severed; for a man who would only know filling diapers as a profession from that day forward, it was a perfectly sensible decision to make. What use could he possibly have for them?
"Y-you can't do this! You can't...! You can't...!" Andrew foamed at the mouth, his demeanor utterly cracking under the strain of the betrayal.
Another gassy rumble thundered in the back of his diaper, and he screwed up his face into an ugly grimace; his bowels no longer heeded any master, and like the rogue agents of destruction that they were, they began to cause mass chaos within him. The first involuntary squeeze was almost painful in its execution; without the regulatory authority that his brain automatically made his plumbing abide by, there was nothing to stop a deposit from vacating too rapidly.
The pillar of poop shot against the puffy seat like an over-tuned piston in a factory; the force of the incoming bulge was powerful enough to puff latent talcum from his waistband, like dirt kicked up by a cannonball. Andrew groaned, his dreams of escape fleeting fast as the solid pole proceeded to push out, the tent in the diaper growing to show off the girth of the prodigious payload.
The more that it snaked out of him, crackling nastily in its exit, the more his ego would fracture; he'd never abdicated control to anyone, he'd never once thought that anything bad could happen to someone of his status. Only the lower class was meant to suffer in this world, not someone of rich provenance like him!
It was a full-on narcissistic collapse, and it was made all the more deliciously pathetic by the disgusting sounds his body continued to make as he filled his diaper like a lobotomite. Whenever that first turd would pinch, there would be several more waiting in the wings to follow; whenever all the solid salvos were nestled against his pale asscheeks, then there would still be a torrent of soft pudding to continue his degradation.
Such an event would no longer be unique after that first time though; this humbling evacuation wasn't an epilogue to a morality play, it was the prologue to a new story altogether. Every day going forward would have all this and worse, until he was so broken that he'd be begging for the sweet lullaby of a merciful lobotomy.
Lucas smiled from his vantage point on high, now satisfied with the fate he'd provided for his monstrous brother.
"I've got a flight to catch, but you keep up the good work here. No pressure, right? At least now you'll be assuring the quality of the products yourself, and if you screw up? No big deal! Just means some blowout in a onesie, instead of a blowout on the interstate. You might kill some clothes, or some noses, but your killing people days are officially over. I'll check in with your boss from time to time, see how you're doing."
And that was it. That was how an empire would fall. A prince at the metaphorical guillotine.
It was the way all greed had to go; karma would always catch up.
(To be continued…?)
