Long Story #6: Spooky Tales for Twisted Tykes (VI. Smashed Pumpkins)
🕑 Added 2025-11-01 01:03:46 +0000 UTC
VI. Smashed Pumpkins:
(Content Tags: Diapers, brain-drain, supernatural horror, pants-wetting, humiliation, mind-control, bad end)
(A commission for Alex)
It was squishy, more-so than I would have expected it to be. The slick seeds scraped ever-so gently at my tender skin, but between the goop and mush that ensconced them, their presence was little more than added grit to the overall texture. The sinewy strands were coated in a gooey pulp, and it all amalgamated into one shocking warm pile that pressed and smeared all throughout the diaper. The scent was sweetly cloying, but also earthy and fresh.
"And how is it, my sweet? Delighting in sitting in that fresh pumpkin 'pie' of yours? You were so thrilled to break them open, that I figured you must really want what was inside."
Her voice was haunting, it stung in my ears like pinpricks; she was a ghastly sight to behold, and not at all what I'd had in mind whenever I'd come to the patch. I hadn't been one to believe in ghosts, but...
She'd caught me in the act of busting them open, with the hammer I'd taken from the garage. Why had I gone there? To the pumpkin patch? There wasn't a good excuse for it; maybe I just felt I needed to blow off steam, and what better way than to smash up some gourds? There couldn't be that many more people who needed them for Halloween, not this late into the month, so who would it hurt?
One by one, I cackled as I smashed the hammer into the orange targets, like they were organic pinatas. Seeds scattered, mush was mashed into the grass, and I was swinging my arms around like a madman. It was exhilarating, it was liberating, it was fun.
But then she came. Maybe she was a protective spirit over agriculture, or maybe the patch was built over an old burial ground; hell, maybe she was just the pumpqueen, lord of gourds. It didn't matter what she was, the end result was the same.
With a phantasm moaning to life behind me, my first instinct was of course to run, but my legs wouldn't take me anywhere. I felt like a cartoon character, staring down at the toothpicks supporting me, and spotting that their hurried steps weren't pounding the earth. I was levitating, trapped in place.
"Such an insolent little boy, such naughtiness! You come into my domain, and you crack open my beloved bounty? What a childish thing to do, to destroy what doesn't belong to you, and for the sheer amusement of it! What do you think I should do with you?" Her fury softened into almost a cooing toward the end of her diatribe, and then those glowing embers that passed for eyes took a downward turn.
There was a splashing sound, like a hose that had been shut off, but that still had water remaining to drain. The light hissing of running water, the gentle thud of dry dirt being moistened into mud.
It was me, I was to blame. In my fear, I'd lost control of my bladder, and now my pants were soaked in my own liquid terror. It was an unwelcome warmth, even on a cold night like this.
"Tsk, tsk...Such an infant. So be it, little man."
A pulse ran through my head, like a jolt to the temples, and it left my thoughts scrambled for a brief moment. I rapidly blinked, trying to regain composure, and I noticed my legs were no longer warm with urine; quite the opposite, in fact, as they were now bare and shivering. Would I be left naked in the pumpkin patch?
That might have actually been preferable to what the reality was.
My underpants were gone, my pants were gone, and in their place, was a very cumbersome diaper. Crinkly, thick, white, the whole nine yards.
But how?
That question became less important as I considered the absurdity of being tormented by a ghost in the first place; if a ghost could exist at all, then that was proof enough that all sorts of strange phenomena was on the table.
I could feel the waistband pulling out in back, forced open wide by what I could only call ghostly telekinesis, and then I watched in awe as a pile of pumpkin mash from the ground began to float up.
"Did the baby go uh-oh?" The revenant cackled, as the mushy wad was deposited into the back of the newfound Pampers around my waist. Then came another scoop, and another, and then...She halted.
"I think baby should clean up his own mess. Go ahead, baby. Put all those icky pumpkin guts and seeds into your diaper."
My feet touched the ground again, legs bowed wide by the bulk of not just the diaper, but the contents now within. Could I run now? No, my legs weren't listening to my brain, they were listening to orders from her; spot by spot, I toddled to each smashed pumpkin, and I began to scoop up the remains and stuff them down the back of my diaper. The ghost kept laughing, and as the diaper I wore felt heavier, my head was feeling lighter, like my thoughts were sticking to the sides.
"What a good cleaner-upper. Come back to mommy, now. It's time to teach you what a little boy is meant to do with a pumpkin; creativity, not destruction."
My legs carried me back, my face only betraying fear, and I felt myself sitting down on a nearby bale of hay with a glorpy squelch from the filled seat of the diaper.
"We're going to make a Jack-o-lantern, my little pumpkin. What's the first step, do you know? It's a lot like what you were doing, but with more precision." A spectral knife manifested into her palm, and then the ghost hovered above me.
"First, you cut a hole, right around the stem."
I felt a strange pressure on top of my head, and I wondered in horror, what exactly she was doing to me. My answer came moments later, when she laid the stem beside me; the gnarled thing was surrounded by wisps of hair, but the sides of the chunk showed no blood, no pieces of skull...It was pumpkin.
"Next, you want to pull the icky goop out of it. Here, I'll cut, and you pull." She cooed, starting to saw at the interior; a headache started to form, my thoughts got tangled, and then she grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my arm up over my head.
"Scoop it out! And then you can put that in your diapee too, dear."
I was powerless to stop her. My hand dug right into the hole, and once is felt the slimy pulp inside, it gripped a handful to tear out. It was a lot warmer than a pumpkin should have been, and as my arm retracted, I felt my mind grow immediately more foggy.
Now with a hand covered in pumpkin innards, there was nothing else to do but to make them join the rest of the pumpkin puree that clung to my bottom. I kept doing that, taking handful after handful from inside my own head, and stuffing the matter behind me, to squish around in my Pampers.
Drool began to dribble out the corners of my mouth involuntarily, and my terrified thoughts became calmer and more simplistic. The warmth of my personal 'pumpkin pie' was soothing, being flattered beneath me, and I couldn't remember what I'd been so upset about. My head was delightfully empty of wit, my diaper delightfully full of mush, and my body tingling with anticipation of another scoop.
"I think we emptied out this one just in time! It was starting to go rotten, don't you think? Or maybe you don't think at all? Not much of a difference to how you were when you came into the patch, my little pumpkin."
"..Widdle...poomp...poom.." I tried to repeat, my tongue thick and my mouth damp, the consonants alluding me.
She picked the stem back up from the hay and placed it back on top of my head, "That's enough of a lesson for tonight. Enjoy your squishy pumpkin pants, my dear, you've earned it."
The phantom would fade into the moonlight, but I'd still be there, drool dripping onto the front of my full diaper, with a mind that'd been scraped of all thought, and by my own hands nonetheless.
She was right, I had earned this.
