Tale #13: No Mirrors (P2)

A warmth pooled around my crotch again, but this time I was more aware of it, and it didn't trickle down my stringy legs. Instead it soaked into the diaper, making it swell slightly against the taut bodysuit. I glanced down and winced, a hand delicately pressing against the warming bulk beneath the fabric. "...Pee-pee.." I heard myself mumble, no more sophisticated term coming to mind. "Don't worry about that now, darling. That's what your new...Underpants, are meant for." The woman assured me, her tone sweetening, though it came across as hollow. New underpants? Why beat around the bush? And why shouldn't I worry? Someone as refined as I was shouldn't be sitting in their own urine, no, someone like me shouldn't have been put in such an undergarment in the first place! I made a mental note, or perhaps more accurately a mental scribble, to have my father later chastise her and this entire place for mishandling modern royalty. "Why... Diapee? Why... Here? Where...Copy?" Every word felt coated in molasses, every syllable barely able to tumble out from a mouth with a tongue that felt too thick to properly maneuver. "I'm afraid I can't answer those questions for you; that will be someone else's job. Go ahead and finish your meal, and then we'll take you to the next room." She didn't move from her chair, and she looked at me with the expectation that I'd continue eating; admittedly, I was still peckish, even if this slop was unfit for someone of my namesake. Struggling to unpeel the banana, I started to wonder about whether or not my replicant had been a success; if I'd been injured enough to end up here, then after the venomous lawsuit my father cooked up for the lab, I may have to make them make a second attempt, without the same possibility of failure as an option. Memories and thoughts were still somewhat fragmented; they were all there, swirling around in my brain, but bits and pieces seemed a little alien. If made to describe it, then I would have said that it was similar to a document having portions accidentally translated into a different language; the context was still there, and the surrounding parts were legible, but small pieces were completely foreign and indecipherable. One scene that played out in my head repeatedly, with each iteration adding more to the whole, was when I'd been sat down to sign the documentation for my replicant to be created. It felt a lot like how things were now, being sat across from someone, and having them ask me questions about myself, and about the copy I'd be creating. "I don't want him as smart as me. Nowhere close! He's just to be a servant; a toy, a plaything. He needs to listen to me, to worship me, to meet my every demand." Were those the words I had used? They sounded right, at least. That's why I'd come for the replication in the first place, right? To have a new toy to play with, as a birthday gift... Being so delightfully clever, I'd known right away that my copy couldn't have but maybe half the same wit, or else he might pose a danger to me. If the process had succeeded, I had to wonder where he was now. Was he simply stowed away until I returned? Or had he been sent home to wait for me? A dark part of my brain couldn't wait to give him commands; he wasn't really human, so no moral compass was needed, was it? My only fear was that I might lose interest in tormenting something that had my own face attached, but I could always make adjustments if need be. "All finished? Go ahead and stand up. We don't want to be late for your evaluations, do we?" I'd be dragged to another room in the facility, and it would be there where I would undergo a 'physical analysis' at the hands of more of those masked workers. Reflexes, temperature, heartbeat, stamina, the works. Running on a treadmill was the most difficult part, considering the soggy garment around my waist, and my coordination was still dodgy at best too. I would feel more of that wet warmth spreading during stretches, which I announced with ire, but I was ignored. Afterwards, in another room, I would again be sat down at a table, this time on a stool. A tablet and stylus were placed in front of me, and on the screen, I could see a jumble of numbers and letters, some of which looked a little unfamiliar. "Go ahead and answer the questions to the best of your ability." What was the point of this? I looked closer and decided these were supposed to be math questions of some kind. I was spectacular at math, or at least I usually was, when my head didn't feel so floaty. The stylus hovered above the screen uselessly as I tried to find something recognizable, until I finally spotted a simple addition problem. Doped up or not, I could still do that much! Two plus two? That was obviously...! Wait, what was it? I had to hold my fingers up again, so that I could scrutinize them with desperate eyes. Counting was easy, it should have been easy, but I felt myself getting tripped up. My focus became so singular that I didn't even register that a wet fart had bubbled into my seat with a rasping slap. "...Why don't we try something else, hmm?" The new proctor finally stated, after having watched my lack of progress over the last few minutes. "I-I can...I know it...I just...The numbers..." He delicately slid the tablet away from me and motioned to one of his assistants to bring something else to the table. The electronic screen was swiftly replaced with something more physical and real: a wooden block puzzle, with a series of holes with specific shapes. "Why don't you try that on for size, okay? Just match the shapes and put each peg in the right hole." He didn't mention it, and my mind didn't decipher the pattern, but they were color coded too. Every correct answer was a unified color: red square to red hole, blue circle to blue hole, and so on. I felt humiliated by the sight of it. Addled or not, I could tell it was like my crinkly underpants, in the fact that it was suited for a toddler. Still, no choice was given to forgo the task, so I started to pick the pegs up. The first couple were easy enough that it only took a minute for me to match them, but then the shapes got slightly more complex, and my brain was having trouble keeping up. Little did I know that the mental strain was impacting me down below. The flatulence came back with a vengeance, my diaper becoming a breeding ground for toots, and their fetid force became magnified by the minute, as the stress and confusion got worse. I began to get visibly frustrated. My face got red, I gritted my teeth, and unwittingly, a sticky streak of banana-thickened drool dribbled down my chin. My hand was trying to force one of the pegs into the hole I thought it belonged in, but it wouldn't fit, and as it continued to not fit, I got angry enough to start slamming it against the wooden puzzle. "GO IN! GO IN!" That noisy outburst came from another end too. My aggressive shouting masked the overall sound of it, but a mushy load had made a gassy exit into its new home, and the diaper had crinkled in accommodation of the expansion. It was easily the size of a softball, but I was oblivious to it, even as it formed a lump in the back of my jumpsuit. "I think that's enough. We have the data to assign a proper number." The man told his assistants, who came to retrieve the poor puzzle from my wrathful little mits. As my fury became diluted, aided by the lollipop traded for the peg in my hand, I would finally notice the squishy sensation pressing against my butt. For a brief moment I was enthralled by it, because it offered such tactile delight, but then as the faint smell tickled at my nose, and I recognized my diaper had been empty before, a look of horror crossed my face. I'd befouled myself like an infant, like an invalid! Such vileness, such degeneracy, such a lack of refinement... It was crushing. "Stand. We're finished with your evaluations now. You'll be going to have a word with the head of the department, and then we'll be sending you home." "B-buuhh...D-diapee...I made...I did stinky poopy-farts. Big poopy-farts from bum-bum." I attempted to relay, the gravity immediately undercut by my lackluster vocabulary. My hands gripped at the tenting lump behind me, as if trying to scope the sheer size of my fresh deposit. That elicited a dry chuckle, "You'll be cleaned up before departure. Might as well get used to that for now though." And that was how I ended up here, blinded by the dazzling brilliance of the observational lights. Sitting with stool smeared all across my backside, and my bowels threatening to anxiously release again, the head of the department was imparting some knowledge to me. He was lying. He had to be. I was the original, not the replica. What sort of mistake was this? Where had my copy been misplaced? Were they trying to cover up their mistakes? "Now let's bring in your master. He's been waiting long enough for the product evaluation to finish up, and on his birthday too!" No. It was my birthday! I was the one who had signed the contract! The one who made the specifications! There couldn't be a master waiting, because I was him! I opened my mouth to scream, but instead, another volley of mush shot like a geyser into my diaper. It spread and oozed, the heat like a blanket of sun-boiled mud. The door would open, and I would again see my reflection. But there was no mirror.