Million Diaper Baby: Chapter 2
DING! DING!
The bell signaling an end to the second round of Matthew and Amy’s match sounded off, giving the pair of fighters a minute to recuperate. With most of the gym having gathered to watch the long-time friends duke it out, the roar of the crowd, while still relatively small, was infectious as Matthew staggered back to his corner. Having started their duel planning to go easy on his female adversary, he soon found himself locked in perhaps the fiercest fight of his career. Regardless of gender or size, Amy’s hit like a sack of bricks, made evident by the mixture of sweat and blood running down his face.
Moreover, it was obvious to Matthew what attack Amy was aiming to land. Having watched her dedicate much of her training to mastering the Hollow Point, he had been forced to deflect multiple assaults on his lower midsection. Based on the rules implemented by the IBF, he could run the table on this fight and still lose if she managed to make him mess himself with a single hit. Unless he wanted to find out what being Amy’s slave for a week entailed, he’d have to put the kiddy gloves away from here on out.
Amy, meanwhile, wasn’t fairing a whole lot better. She had plenty of speed on Matthew, allowing her to avoid a large number of his killer punches. Although, the ones he had managed to land felt like being pelted with cannonballs, making two rounds feel like a full twelve. With the terms of their spar only permitting a three-round bout, she needed to dust herself off fast if she was going to withstand another three minutes in the ring with Matthew. She ground her teeth on the straw of her water bottle as she glared at her rival sitting in the opposing corner.
DING! DING!
Hoisting up the waistband of his diaper as he stood, Matthew reinserted his mouthguard as he danced with Amy to the center of the ring. “Uh oh, you’re not getting tired of me, are you?” said Matthew, remarking on the noticeably wider gait in her step, “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to read you a bedtime story after I lay your ass out.” He patted his gloves together playfully, attempting to heckle his way into Amy’s head.
Unfazed by Matthew’s schoolyard antics, Amy held her left glove out to point directly at her opponent’s head. “Shut up and box, diaper boy,” she stated smugly, savoring the hint of color that formed in Matthew’s cheeks
Unable to keep himself from scowling at being called “diaper boy,” Matthew planted his feet and threw the first punch of the round, connecting with the bulk of Amy’s glove as she moved to block his jab to the face. His second hit came shortly after, which barely grazed the top of Amy’s head as she performed a perfect duck.
Winding her fist up as she ducked, Amy was now in the prime location to deliver her signature twist on Blake The Bullet’s famous move, which she dubbed the Hollow Point’s Revenge. It was a two-point attack that would leave her extremely vulnerable if she failed but was almost guaranteed to end the match immediately if her efforts were successful. Unlike The Bullet, who used his superior strength to attack a person’s midsection head-on, Amy’s strategy was to trick someone into dodging a wild swing to the chest before sneaking her second fist in for a sucker punch to her opponent’s diaper-dumping sweet spot.
Unfortunately, if anyone was familiar with Amy’s boxing technique, it was Matthew. Dropping his fist low, he allowed himself to take a hit to the chest head-on whilst blocking Amy’s low jab. The direct impact knocked the wind clean out of him but he narrowly survived the attack on his bowels. A smirk flashed across his face as he took advantage of Amy’s vulnerable position. Right. Left. Right. Left. Over and over again until he had his rival backed against the ropes. It was brutal to watch, especially for those who were hopeful to see the gym’s alpha male get what was coming to him.
Tucking her elbows in and burying her face behind the mitts of her boxing gloves, Amy was forced to lean back against the ropes and wait for the person refereeing their match to call a knockdown. A wave of relief overtook her as she watched Matthew prance backward to the opposite corner of the ring. Bent down with a hand on her knee, she wanted to collapse right then and there, though that notion was quickly discarded once the sound of the ref counting the time she had to re-enter the match caught her ear. Stumbling to the center of the ring, she held up her gloves for the ref and looked them dead in the eyes, letting them know she was ready.
“Hey, is she wet?!” shouted someone from outside the ring, pausing the ref just as they were about to clear Amy to fight. Suddenly, all eyes fell upon Amy’s diaper, which had a very noticeable sag to it. The warm lights of the gym did a solid job masking the slightly yellow discoloration but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that her diaper had swollen since the beginning of the match.
Covering his mouth with his right glove, Matthew snickered at Amy’s humiliating predicament. He must’ve caused her bladder to slip when he had her tilted against the ropes. With his victory seemingly inevitable, this felt like the cherry on top. “Wait, she used her diaper. That means I win, right?” he asked the referee before looking to the audience for clarification.
“No, it doesn’t! There’s nothing in the rules that says a wet diaper equals a knockout!” blurted out Amy before the ref had a chance to answer. Despite her aggressive insistence in continuing the brawl, she couldn’t help but turn bright red as the amused, chuckling crowd turned on her.
Doing their best to stay impartial, the referee kept a straight face as he confirmed, “So long as a boxer’s padding isn’t leaking onto the canvas, a wet diaper doesn’t constitute a knockout.” The ref’s words squeezed a few final giggles from the small gathering of spectators as they made direct eye contact with Amy, slapped the tops of her gloves, and signaled for the match to resume.
DING! DING!
Matthew wasted no time closing the gap between himself and Amy as their match restarted. They were barely thirty seconds into the third round and he already had her pinned once. Two more knockdowns and this fight would be his. Leveraging his size and power against Amy’s, he quickly pushed her back toward the ropes again.
This pushed Amy into a defensive stance as she retreated in a circle around the ring, attempting never to let her diaper touch the ring’s elastic barrier. It was an exhausting way to fight that left her backpedaling constantly, but if it was tiring for her, it was certainly tiring for someone with greater body mass. Additionally, as embarrassing as it was to be called out for her little accident, the distraction it caused gained her an extra bit of rest time, boosting her mobility.
Another thirty seconds passed with seldom few punches thrown in that time. All the while, Amy could see the frustration mounting on Matthew’s face. Her strategy was working. She just needed to play it cool and wait for an opening. Her diaper squelched between her muscular thighs as she danced in a wide stance with one arm raised to block and one arm kept low and away.
“Quit moving and fight!” yelled Matthew, losing his temper at the cowardly, yet effective tactics Amy was employing. Most guys he’d fought were too vain to resort to a battle of pure footwork. Aiming to cut off Amy’s escape route, he pivoted to the side in hopes of scooting her into a corner.
Matthew’s rash decision to try and assert control over the match was exactly the kind of impatient response that Amy was banking on. Utilizing her defensive arm, she swung a check hook directly at Matthew’s head as he stepped to cut her off. His fists instinctually raised to protect his pretty face, gifting Amy with a renewed opportunity to land her devastating version of the Hollow Point to his intestinal tract.
GUUUUUUUURRRRGLE!
Keeling over due to Amy’s gut punch, Matthew’s eyes went wide as he felt his stomach lurch in a terribly foreboding way. He clenched his asshole tightly, forcing him to stiffen his body and flex every muscle in his core. He was only still for a split-second but his momentary freeze-up left him open for Amy to deliver a second blow to the exact same spot, sending him to the ground as he fought to keep a lid on his colon. The audience’s cheers dissipated into gasps before his shoulder collided with the ground.
“1, 2, 3…”
However, not a single onlooker was nearly as shocked as Amy was. Standing over Matthew as the referee began the knockout countdown, a crooked smile slowly formed on her face. “No…freaking…way…” she mumbled to herself, her hungry eyes homing in on her bestie's buttocks as she waited for him to cede all control to her and his quivering bowels.
“...4, 5, 6…”
With his knees curling into his chest, things were looking grim for poor Matthew. He knew if he didn’t get up soon, he would lose the match via a full-on knockout. Punching at the floor with his left fist, he moved to push himself upward. This was more than him as a man losing to a woman. He was a grown-ass adult; one who hadn’t shit himself since preschool. Lifting himself to one knee, he had precious, little time to lose.
“...7, 8, 9…”
Having only one second left to get into an upright position, Matthew ignored every warning sign that his body was giving him and promptly raised himself to a fighting stance to halt the ref’s count. A weary smile appeared on his face briefly, believing he had turned the tide against his bodily functions. Tragically, this period of peace was akin to being smack dab in the eye of a tornado.
BLOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRT!
The ref had no need to finish the final countdown. Matthew’s smile didn’t even have time to invert before the rear of his diaper started to inflate. The prideful boxer dropped to his knees hunched over, his mind failing to fathom what was happening to him as she stared blankly into the distance. A bashfully guilty expression overtook his crimson-coated face as he opened his mouth to speak. To his fellow boxers watching on in delightful trepidation, it looked as though he was searching for a way to explain away the shameful act he was committing but was unable to find a suitable excuse.
DING! DING!
Amy’s heart fluttered in correlation with the bell as it echoed the fight's conclusion. “Oh, my Goddess, I actually did it!” she said, nearly joining Matthew on the floor as her improbable victory left her feeling light-headed. To win against a guy as strong as Matthew was one thing, and certainly gave her a massive confidence boost, but to win against the guy she’d been forced to compare herself to since her fighting career began was a triumph she would carry with her for the rest of her life. Not even the lingering humiliation of her previous wetting incident could ruin this. The pièce de résistance was when she glanced into his watery eyes and watched as his male ego shattered in real-time.
Blubbering as lines of tears and snot replaced the droplets of sweat, Matthew could no longer hold back the emotions welling up inside him. It didn’t matter that this was an unsanctioned fight and that his 19 and 0 record was still intact. This was worse than a loss in his official fight history could ever be. Bursting into hysterics that were fueled by the pulpy mess swishing and churning around in his diaper, he lost all semblance of the confident and mature boxer that had stepped into the ring three rounds ago.
“Sorry, Matti,” teased Amy cruelly, justifying her actions with the knowledge that had the shoe been on the other foot, Matthew’s taunting would’ve been relentless, “Looks like we’re gonna have a whole week of fun together.” In truth, she never thought she’d make it this far, and thus hadn’t considered what she would do with Matthew if she pulled off the win. It wasn’t like he needed to know that, though, as she gleefully buried her sluggish creativity behind a condescending headpat.
TO BE CONTINUED…