🕑 Added 2024-09-02 18:55:42 +0000 UTC
With a small sigh, the genius made his way slowly over to Timmy and wrinkled his nose at the encroaching odor that emanated from the little idiot. “Ugh… You smell terrible…”
Timmy giggled in return, “Dat’s the poop.” He said, giving his own bulging seat a firm pat, as if giving away a trade secret to his stench.
“Yeah, I know…” Jaime got down on his knees and took a deep breath to prepare himself.
“Okay, now you have to sniff for thirty seconds. Nose has to make contact.” Paxton told the contestant, “Aaaaaand… Go!”
The timer started its countdown and Jaime swallowed his disgust; grabbing Timmy’s thighs, he buried his nose right into the back of the fuming Pull-Up and began to take loud whiffs of the putrid aroma. Still having all his intelligence, it was not only humiliating, but he also wasn’t dumb enough to enjoy the ‘complex bouquet’ of scents, at least not like these short-bussers did. Timmy still seemed aware enough to recognize his own spite for Jaime, and so while the boy was nose-deep in the mushy padding, Timmy pushed and let a loud fart gurgle into the garment. Jaime felt it rumble and wanted to back away, but there was still time left on the clock. Then he started to feel the material of the trainers expanding and he realized that Timmy was pooping again… It made the boy’s stomach churn, but instead of retching, his own bowels began to release.
So there he was, the smartest boy on stage, and he was crapping in his diaper while sniffing deeply of a disposable brief that was itself being actively soiled. The crowd loved it. Jaime hated it, especially since he knew that even in victory, this little clip would haunt the rest of his childhood and beyond.
The timer finally ran out, just as Jaime finished pinching a large sticky loaf into his own diaper. The boy pulled back and coughed, wanting to get as far away from Timmy’s disgusting seat as he could, and as fast as possible too. Shakily, he stood back up, his diaper drooping in back.
“Good thing we have another commercial break after this round! Looks like we’ll be dealing with some more diaper changes. Miles, you’re the final contestant for round four: what would you like to take?”
This was one of his last chances to catch up. The fifth round was the final one, and if he wasn’t at least close to Jaime’s score, then there was no chance he’d be able to catch up. He had to go big and hope that it wouldn’t blow up in his face.
“World History for five hundred points. I’ll bet thirty-six months and my token.”
“Your question is: What year did the Soviet Union fall?”
If his IQ hadn’t been taken down to ‘below average’, then that question likely would have been far more involved. It probably would have asked about ‘why’, rather than something as simple as ‘when’. Fortunately for Miles, even with an IQ of ‘96’, he was still capable enough to answer. “1991, Pax. End of ‘91.”
“Correct! Would you like to take another question?”
That put him five-hundred points ahead of Jaime. The fifth round wouldn’t have any doubling modifiers, which meant that Jaime would have to pick a top question just to be tied with Miles, unless he was able to answer one of Richter’s or Timmy’s questions. The risk was still pretty high, but it could be worse if he fumbled a question right now. Maybe if he just picked something simple? Something he was confident that he could get?
“...Yes. I’ll take ‘Greek Mythology’ for one-hundred. I’ll wager ten IQ points and my token.”
“What was the name of the man who went to find his wife, Persephone, in the underworld?”
That was an easy one! The name came to his mind immediately and Miles smirked as he put his hands on his hips, “Morpheus!”
But then he heard the penalty noise, and he realized that he’d messed up in a pretty silly way. The host clicked his tongue and shook his head with the disappointment of someone who already had low expectations. “I’m afraid that’s not right. Can anyone else tell me what the real answer is?”
Of course Jaime had to buzz in, “The correct answer is Orpheus. Morpheus presides over dreams, and is a son of Hypnos, like the other Oneiroi.”
“And that concludes the fourth round! Miles will be losing another chunk of brain-power, and let’s see what his humiliation token has for him… Uh-oh, looks like you’ll be joining your fellow contestants in losing your underwear! Looks like yours is going to be ‘used’ though, that won’t be fun. Don’t go anywhere, we’ll be back after a word from our sponsors!”
The cameras turned off and Miles was nursing his aching head, which had just been zapped again. He groaned and quietly wandered off to the side, where the craft-service table was, so he could at least get himself something to drink. Richter had gone there too, though the snacks he was munching on weren’t the best for his newfound lack of decorum.
“I can’t believe this… Didn’t Timmy say that Jaime was a frickin’ retard? How’s he been beating us so badly? We were supposed to be the best in town…”
Richter had been his rival for years, ever since elementary school. The two had never ‘gotten along’, but it’d been in a competitive sense. They’d honestly gotten closer after a certain ‘incident’ that’d happened a couple of years ago, when they’d been a little too careless in the school laboratory; horseplay and outright bullying had resulted in a partially wrecked facility and a student who’d bore the brunt of the disaster. What had his name been? Tony? A dorky nobody that had just wanted some pointers on his science fair project from the two brainiacs.
Tony hadn’t been stupid, but he’d been painfully average in comparison to Richter or Miles. He’d tickled their egos, but he had still just been seen as a nuisance. In exchange for their help, he’d agreed to be the lab assistant for their own projects. Things had gotten out of hand, when Richter and Miles had collided with their narcissistic tendencies, and then things had gone ‘boom’. The lab had been wrecked, and Tony had been messed up pretty badly; he’d gone from average to ‘nose picking, pants-shitting retard’ in an instant, and that had been quite permanent. Being too mushbrained to defend himself, both geniuses had blamed the pantsfiller for what had happened. He’d been relegated to a permanent stay in Special Ed, and they’d sworn to never talk about what had happened.
Thinking back on it though… What had Jaime said earlier? About knowing what it was like to have a diminished older brother? Was it possible that…?
“Hey, Richter, you don’t think that Jaime is somehow connected to uh, that one kid? You know? From the lab?”
Richter’s mouth was stuffed with treats, but he still looked at Miles while the former teen spoke, as if contemplating what was being said. Miles awaited an answer, and it looked like Richter was really thinking hard about it, but then he heard a sloppy eruption come from the teen’s adult Pull-Up, and it became more obvious that Richter was just a retard that was shitting himself now. His rival was gone, which he couldn’t even enjoy, because Miles had taken himself out of the genius club altogether with this game. The grand prize of twenty million was starting to look less appealing, when it became more real what was being lost in the journey for it.
Miles scowled and grabbed a soda to go. There was no point in talking to Richter, now that his IQ was at fifty. He was just a drooling, farting, and pooping imbecile. The former teen wandered back toward the stage, where Timmy and Jaime were laid next to each-other, getting their poopy pants changed by stage-hands. Timmy’s Pull-Up was replaced with a very bulky diaper, much like Jaime was wearing, except even thicker, and it plainly said ‘RETARD’ on the back. Richter would likely be getting one to match, considering where his own brain was at now.
Jaime then got dressed up in a very infantile onesie, with a pacifier clipped to the front and a baby bottle for him to hold. One of his penalties had been to wear baby clothes for the rest of the game, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.
“I want to know what’s going on, you little brat.” Miles seethed, putting his hands on his hips. “Timmy said you used to be in Special Ed; he said you used to crap in your pants and everything. Why are you so smart then? And why are you taking this game so personally?”
Jaime stood back up and adjusted his diaper through the fabric of his onesie. “Well, I guess we’re going into the last round, so there’s no point in hiding it. I already did what I came to do to most of you.”
Miles frowned, “Timmy’s little brother used to pick on you. He said that himself. It makes sense that you’re trying to get back at his brother by destroying him… But you’re too young to know Richter or me!”
The stage-hand interrupted and told Miles to take off his pants, so that he could be dressed for the final round. The indignant boy suddenly remembered what his penalty was from the humiliation token and he felt sick to his stomach as he saw what the person was holding in their hands: it was the freshly pooed diaper that had just been taken from Jaime; still warm, still steaming, still very stinky. There was no way out of getting put into it either, unless he was willing to walk away.
As the second-hand diaper was taped around Miles, much to his visible disgust, Jaime watched with a smug grin. “Hope I didn’t make it too messy for you.”
“S-stop avoiding the q-question…!” Miles stammered with hot cheeks as the icky garment was taped to his own butt.
“I have a big brother. He’s more like a little brother now though. I’m sure you know him, don’t you? I know you’d never admit to doing anything to him, but I remember him sounding really happy about how he was gonna get the two smartest kids in school to help him out… Then the next time I saw him, he was… Well, he was a lot like Richter or Timmy is now! A lot like you’ll be by the end of the game. You’re still a lil’ too smart, but you know what the winner gets, right? Besides the prize money?”
Miles had seen the show enough times to know what Jaime was talking about. The grand winner was granted the right, if they so decided, to drop either the age or IQ of one of their competitors by a large degree. It wasn’t always taken, and sometimes it wasn’t feasible with where the competitors were at by the end. If they were too dumb or too young, then that extra prize was just converted to a little extra cash.
Miles got stood back up, and the preteen felt his mushy butt getting patted by a very condescending looking Jaime, as if admiring his own dirty deed. “And as for me being a ‘retard’, as you like to put it… That was never the case. I’m a savant and was just a really late bloomer; I’ve always been very clever, just not good at showing it. Are you satisfied?”
He wasn’t satisfied. Not at all. His curiosity was, but knowing the full truth hadn’t yielded any benefits to this competition. The final round was about to start, and if he couldn’t pull out all the stops, then Jaime planned to take everything away from him.
A few minutes later, once everyone was in a clean diaper, except for Miles of course, they were ushered back to their podiums for the final round to begin. The cameras came back on and the host stood at the front of the stage.
“Welcome back, folks! It has been a brutal game for these four boy geniuses, but now we get to see who the winner will be! Let’s review our competitors first, shall we?”
One by one, Paxton would point to each boy, and the screen above would show their stats and how they’d changed over the course of the game.
“Richter! Originally seventeen years old and with an IQ of 150! Now, he’s fifteen and has an IQ of just fifty! His score is only at five-hundred points, which unfortunately for him, means that he is incapable of winning the competition at this point. Sorry, Richter, but you won’t be getting a question this round.”
The only teenager left in the competition, and his screen suddenly went dark as he was effectively dismissed from it. There was no combination of factors that could bring him victory, so he’d be little more than a prop on the stage until the end of the round. He didn’t seem concerned about it, instead eating his own boogers and occasionally bending his knees to let a juicy rumble out into his immense tardpants.
“Next, we have Timmy! Originally thirteen years old and with an IQ of 139! Now, he’s the youngest at six years old and his IQ has lowered to 64! His score is 1800, which still gives him a small, but real chance to steal a victory here.”
The littlest boy on the stage and he gave a sheepish giggle and a wave. He was more aware than Richter was, but that wasn’t saying much.
“Our competitor that has been leading for most of the game is Jaime! Who was also our youngest and smartest competitor at the start, being ten years old with an IQ of 163. He’s gotten nearly every question right, but has still lost a single year and has been made incontinent. His score is currently at 2500, which is just shy of the lead!”
Jaime waved his baby bottle at the audience and grinned from behind the pacifier that had been put in his mouth. Whatever humiliation he’d dealt with today, it will have all been worth it, to take vengeance out on the ones who had wronged him.
“And finally, currently in the lead at 2800 points, we have Miles! Sixteen at the start of the game, and with the second-highest IQ of 160, he is now eleven years old and has an IQ of 86, which still makes him both the second oldest and the second smartest!”
With the catch-up completed, it was time to end things, one way or another.
“Now, as you all may know, our fifth round is where we try to end things with a bang! Today, since we only have three finalists, we’ll be changing up the rules of the competition. You’ll each get one question, but you won’t get to decide the topic, nor will you get to decide the wager. You only get to choose the amount of points you want it to be worth. You have to decide what that number will be before anyone goes, got it? The cap is two-thousand points.”
It made the final question a massive gamble. It seemed obvious that the difficulty of the question and the wager would coincide with how many points the contestant wanted it to be worth, but they couldn’t dial in what it should be, based on their competition. They had to do it blindly. The risk was high. Miles looked over at Jaime and wondered how much the brat would be willing to bet here, since he was only three-hundred points behind. Probably upwards of a thousand, just to make sure, which meant Miles would have to match that.
“Everyone have their number? Good. Timmy will be up first, so let’s see what number you decided on.”
“...A hunder-red!” The idiot beamed, holding up a card with a shoddily written ‘100’ on it. It was probably the highest number that his game-damaged brain could think of at this point.
The host chuckled and shook his head, “Well, okay then. Your wager will be five IQ points. Your question is: what is this shape called?” The overhead screen started to display a colorful square.
“Dat’s a square! A blue square!” Timmy exclaimed proudly.
“That’s right! Looks like Timmy’s final score is ‘1900’, which unfortunately is too low to win. Sorry, Timmy!”
It had already been expected. The little boy was happy to get the question right, but from the sounds coming off his rear-end microphone, he was already wetly soiling himself again; he could never have won this game, not when there were still two superior intellects in it with him. He’d instead get a consolation prize, just like Richter, which was a lifetime supply of ‘Tardees’ brand diapers in his size.
“Now, why don’t we switch things up a bit… Miles, why don’t you go next? What number did you decide on?”
The former teen frowned, since it was obvious that the host had more faith in Jaime being the winner here. Why else change the rotation on the final round? It was just a fluffing technique to massage ratings. Still, there was no helping it. He held up his own paper, which had ‘1000’ on it.
“A thousand! Wow, that’s really something. Your wager will be split: two years of age and forty IQ points. Now here’s your question: name a country where you could find a freshwater crocodile?”
Miles had to strain his brain on that one, and the fumes coming up from the dirty diaper around his waist wasn’t helping. It was like Jaime was messing with him mind one last time! He tried to shake it off and think, but the only thing he could think about was Florida… Weren’t they in Florida? Was there a difference between an alligator and a crocodile? He couldn’t seem to remember, and the smell of the filth from below was making it harder and harder. No, alligators were different! They weren’t the same! But there were crocodiles in the everglades, right?
“Uuhhh… United States?”
“Oh, so sorry! While crocodiles do live in the United States, the American crocodile is a saltwater one. The answer we were looking for was ‘Australia’! That’ll mean a very heavy penalty…”
(Finished in Part 4)
