Sharlette Starr

“Whatever the critics say, I know I came up the hard way. I’ve worked hard, and I’m entitled to my success.”

Of all the female solo artists to appear in the music business, it’s a rarity for one of them to receive the amount of attention and to make the kind of impact that Sharlette Starr has in her six-year career. Appearing on the scene at the age of eighteen, the talented singer-songwriter became an overnight success when her first single, “Shooting Starr”, went straight to the top of the charts. “Shooting Starr” was followed by a string of hits, such as “Violet Hearts” and “Cartwheel”. However, Sharlette’s career has had its share of controversy, mainly owing to her involvement in the “adult baby” lifestyle. The infantile outfits and oversized baby items Sharlette uses in her performances have drawn much attention from the media, both negative and positive. Sharlette’s style has been highlighted as “eccentric”, “unique” and “inspired” by various sources and none have been more supportive than her fans. Sharlette’s mainly young-adult audience are well-known for wearing babyish outfits to her concerts and the singer’s influence has led to a rise in the popularity of baby clothing, items and furniture for adults, something that has come under criticism from various parties. In spite of this, Sharlette went on to win a “Best Newcomer” award and has received critical acclaim for her work throughout her career.

Sharlette’s luxury home outside San Francisco is famous for its originality and has been featured in housing and furniture magazines for its unique design. Its style and theme revolves around babyishness, with oversized items, furniture and even fixtures designed to make residents and visitors feel as if they are the same size as an infant. Everything, from the kitchen counters to certain food products to the plastic, childlike toys and ornaments, is several times larger than their more common counterparts. Sharlette’s home is frequently the topic of online articles about home improvement and is often mentioned in features of insights into celebrity homes. In some circles, it could be argued that Sharlette’s home is as popular as her music.
Now, in this frank and open interview, Sharlette Starr discusses the highs and lows of her career and attempts to silence the critics.



Justin Remington: First of all, Sharlette, thank you for joining us for this interview.

Sharlette Starr: Thank you Justin!

JR: Let’s start by talking about the new album. You’ve mentioned that “Collide-O-Scope” will be a departure from some of your past work, such as “Crayon Rhapsody”. Can you talk us through some of the differences?

SS: I’ve focused a lot on power beats and funky bass lines on my last album. Crayon Rhapsody was all about movement. I wanted a more subdued low level rhythm for Collide-O-Scope. I wanted songs that were going to build up. I mean, I wanna keep that intensity but be a bit more methodical with it.

JR: You grew up in northern California and got your start in the music business there. How difficult was it to get noticed?

SS: Well a girl screaming into a microphone wearing a diaper tends to get noticed, even in San Francisco! But no, I mean it’s tough running the gauntlet, ya know? All the sleazy, stinky, dives, the time spend on the road in my friend’s van … I’ll take a tour bus over a run down, ratty old van any day! Still I think it’s important to “make your bones” that way. It makes me feel like I’ve earned it, ya know? Like, whatever the critics say, I know I came up the hard way. I’ve worked hard, and I’m entitled to my success.

JR: Since the start of your career, you’ve been known for your interest in the “adult baby” lifestyle. Why did you decide to express that publicly, while many would’ve preferred to keep it private?

SS: Well, the AB (Adult Baby) thing is a big part of who I am. I’ve never been the kind of person to shy away from the spot light. I mean I know it’s weird. I’ll be the first to admit I’m a weird person. But, the cool thing about Rock and Roll is that weirdness goes hand in hand with it, ya know? I mean look at all the famous rockers that came before me. Look at all the people making really great music right now! They’re all a least a little weird, they all defy convention. That’s what being an artist is all about, cuz you’re naked up there on stage. Through your music, you’re naked. People are out there reading your diary basically. I’m not just ganna leave out the parts where I’m in diapers. I mean, those are important parts. They’re my favorite parts!



JR: Nevertheless, you have faced problems concerning your status as an AB in the early days, notably your difficulty with getting a record label to sign you. When it became public knowledge, a few considered it to be a form of discrimination, so did it annoy you or was it something you expected? Or perhaps both?

SS: I guess both! I mean, people can be really judgmental, I know that for a fact. But with the record labels, they were just scared I wouldn’t sell albums. I mean, that’s all they really care about. I think they were pretty short sighted. I mean, I’m selling like crazy now. And I’m not ganna lie I think the whole AB thing has an appeal, it gets me noticed, good or bad ya know. I’m not saying it’s a gimmick, it’s not, it’s me. Anything you say about Adult Babies or the community, you’re saying about me. But, controversy sells records. I knew that going in. As for all the rejections, I can look back and laugh now.

JR: Have you always had an interest in being an AB?

SS: I’ve pretty much always been in diapers in some form. Even since I was “supposed” to be! I’d sneak away, wear diapers and suck on a pacifier in my room when no one was around. I was so scared of getting caught by my parents. It’s crazy, now I’m in front of millions of people doing the same stuff. It’s a real contrast.

JR: Your songs are clearly influenced by your life as an AB. Were you ever worried that the general public might not be able to relate to songs such as “Diapers and Dresses” because of their AB lyrics?

SS: You know, I’ve never really worried about that. I mean, I’ve never really given a thought to whether people could relate to my music or not. The music just happens, it comes from inside. I don’t go into the studio and think, “oh, this song’s ganna sell a million records”, I’d be doing the same thing even if I wasn’t getting paid, ya know? Music is part of me, just like being AB is part of me. Somehow people can relate to that. Some how I have fans, and I’m very grateful for that. I feel very fortunate.

JR: Certain lyrics of yours have become a surprise hit with mainstream audiences. For example, when you sat down to write “Violet Hearts”, did you ever expect the lyric, “My heart and soul the age of three, infinite infantity”, to catch on like it did?

SS: You know, I'm always surprised when any of the stuff I work on hits the mainstream. It's such a hard thing to be accepted n our society if your considered even a little unusual. I like to think music crosses those divides though. I like to believe that if your really honestly true to what you believe and you sing with conviction people will understand on some basic human level.

JR: Your success and popularity has led to many of your fans seeking to emulate your style, many of them becoming active in the AB community themselves. Given the lack of awareness and acceptance of AB, were you surprised by how popular the lifestyle has become in such a short time?

SS: I was super surprised! I was shocked that my music even caught on with a mainstream audience. The AB thing was even more of a shock. I mean, I love dressing the way I do, I love being me and being this way. I guess I can see what other people would enjoy about it too. Who doesn’t want to be taken care of, right? Who doesn’t want to be held and loved? Everyone’s a little AB I think. Everyone’s got the innocence, that... want to go back.

JR: Your music videos and live performances are known for being very visual, making use of baby paraphernalia such as cribs, high chairs, strollers, etc. Do you work with directors and other designers to come up with what looks best on stage?

SS: I work solo, that’s what I’m used to. I have a lot of technical backup but, they just help me get the vision I have in my head up on the screen. It’s my thing, I do what I wanna do.

JR: A few people have mentioned the fact that the band you perform with onstage are always dressed in baby clothes too, despite them not being ABies. Do they enjoy dressing in baby outfits? And what’s it like for you, as an AB, to see them dressed that way?

SS: Some of the guys I’ve worked with were like, “I’m not doing that!”, but most people just wanna get on stage. I think that outweighs whatever peeves they have as far as dress is concerned. I do have a few folks who I work with more often and they dig the AB scene. I mean it’s always nice to have someone up there who shares the same feelings you do but, it’s not a requirement.

JR: Of course, you yourself are known to be very active in the AB community and have been for a long time. How have other ABies reacted to your success?

SS: Before I ever hit it big, the community was there. I mean, it’s private, I know some folks got together. I first experienced it mostly as an internet thing. That’s where I met almost all the friends I have in the AB scene. There’s a lot of fear, I realize, especially amongst kids, cuz their parents don’t get it. It’s tough for a lot of ABies when they’re young. I imagine a lot of kids sneak my music and listen in private. I guess I’m a guilty pleasure.

JR: You’ve had various critics throughout your career, some of whom have attempted to demonize you. Did you expect to receive that kind of criticism?

SS: You know, I did, I saw it coming. Regular bands have a hard enough time pleasing the critics, you throw the whole AB thing in there and well... you’ve seen what they’ve said. I mean it is what it is.

JR: How did the criticism make you feel? Saddened? Determined?

SS: It’s never easy to hear or read bad things about yourself. I have to be stopped sometimes. My band mates are like, “Sharlette, don’t keep reading that stuff, you’ll make yourself crazy!” And they’re right! So I ignore the bad press, focus on my work. It does get to me though. Sometimes I let that anger out on stage. I just scream my head off and the fans dig it. It’s like a big “F*** YOU” to the critics.

JR: Some critics have been less hostile but have also stated their opinion that you’ve only had the success you’ve had because of your unique style. Do you think that being an AB may have helped your career as opposed to being just another female solo artist/guitarist?

SS: I think it’s gotten me noticed a lot more than maybe some other artists. It’s the thing people notice about me first. At first it’s like, “whoa, that chick’s in a diaper!”, then it’s like, “… and she can play too!” I mean if it’s given me an advantage, I’ll take it! If being myself up on stage helps make my dreams come true faster, then I’m all for it.

JR: It’s not unlikely that your success will lead to more ABies becoming singers or other public figures. Do you have any advice for them and do you see yourself as a pioneer or role model for others in the AB community?

SS: You know, I’ve never really seen myself as that exactly. If I am a role model, I’m not sure how to handle it. I mean, it’s worked for me. As far as advice goes I’d say, just get up there and start doing what you love, let to loose up there. You’re probably better off wearing a diaper cuz it can be “piss your pants” scary the first few times. It’s a hard road and if you can walk it and still be a soft person then rock on, you know? Then get up there and do it and don’t worry about what anybody says.

JR: Sharlette, thank you so much for your time.

SS:No problem! Always a pleasure.

Sharlette Starr’s new album, Collide-O-Scope, will be released on May 5th. Justin Remington is a frequent Mean Beats contributor and has been an interviewer of various musicians for over ten years.

Copyright Mean Beats 2010 ©


Art by Pink-Diapers, written by Guest-1001

Morgan and Steven: Cake butt

Morgan groaned and looked over at the pile of homework sitting on her desk. She knew she shouldn’t have let it build up but it was difficult not to; the attraction of acting like a baby with her little brother was often too much to resist. She had a choice between working on an English paper, the Math project and the still life for Art class or going downstairs and playing with Stephen. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make.
No, I need to concentrate, she told herself, trying her best to focus. She tapped her pen against her desk absent-mindedly, looking at the equation she was working on. It was only after her eyes had scanned the page five times that she realised she hadn’t been reading the equation at all.
Feeling distracted, Morgan stood up and stretched her arms above her head. She walked around the room a little, waddling a little because of the diaper on her bottom. As a compromise between acting like a baby and doing homework, she had decided to do make an effort to work hard but wear a diaper and have a bowl of ice cream while she did so. However, it had taken so long for her to start working that the ice cream had melted and was no longer cold. Morgan didn’t think wearing a diaper was enough to satisfy her babyish desires either; it was either all or nothing, so a diaper just wouldn’t cut it.
Meanwhile, Morgan’s younger brother was leaning against the door frame, watching his sister with an amused smirk on his face. It was funny for Stephen to watch Morgan struggle with a dilemma, at least up to a point; he enjoyed playing by himself as a baby but he got bored of it after a while. He could only crawl around on all-fours and shake baby rattles for so long before he wanted to play with his sister.
Morgan groaned and walked back across the room to her desk. She sat down and made a half-hearted attempt to start working again.
‘Get to work missy!’ Stephen called, stepping into the room. Morgan sighed, actually feeling rather happy for the interruption.
‘There’s too much sometimes even for me, the great and powerful Morgan,’ she said, ‘and also …’ Morgan stuck out her tongue at Stephen, who smirked playfully. In his mind, he was already concocting an evil scheme to distract Morgan from her homework.
‘Hmph!’ said Stephen, ‘the “great and powerful Morgan” is heading for a time out!’ Stephen picked up a pink plastic kiddie-sized chair – one of the ones he and Morgan used whenever they had a tea party with their stuffed animals – and put it in the corner, facing the walls. ‘The time out chair has your name on it, young lady!’ Stephen added. He picked up the pen that Morgan had been using – or hadn’t been using, more accurately – and wrote her name on the time out chair, before quickly adding “is a loser” underneath it.
While her brother was writing, Morgan picked up the bowl of melted ice cream from her desk and tiptoed over to Stephen. ‘Your poopy chair don’t scare me, jerk face!’ she said, completely giving up her pledge to finish her homework. Morgan turned the bowl upside down and dumped the entire helping of melted ice cream onto Stephen’s head. Stephen gasped and Morgan spared no time in running away, laughing while she did so.

Stephen gave a small shiver, thinking he should’ve been more careful about what he wished for. Morgan, meanwhile, was already at the bottom of the stairs, feeling free. She knew Stephen wouldn’t mind – he might’ve been a little cold or uncomfortable for a while but Morgan generally handled the laundry and the cleanup – but still couldn’t help feeling a little concerned. An ice cream attack was no laughing matter for the person on the receiving end. Morgan knew her brother well enough to know that he wouldn’t cry but she’d be a fool to let her guard down. Stephen would be looking for payback.
‘Hey!’ Stephen called, ‘you think that’s funny!?’ Morgan heard the rapid thuds of Stephen dashing down the stairs and ran into the kitchen, laughing to herself. Stephen leapt down the last few stairs, still coated in ice cream, and hurried after Morgan. The two of them ran around the kitchen table a few times and Morgan even attempted to escape by crawling underneath it at one point. Unfortunately, that was to be her downfall; Stephen hurried around the table and grabbed the back of Morgan’s diaper to stop her from running away. ‘Revenge time!’ Stephen said.
Since acting like babies meant eating like babies too, Morgan and Stephen always made sure they had lots of sweet things to eat, like cookies, ice cream and cotton candy. Basically, any snacks or desserts that would give them the opportunity to wear bibs and make a mess of their faces. So on this occasion, a delicious chocolate cake was sitting on the kitchen table, ready to be eaten. Stephen grabbed a slice and wasted no time in dropping it down the back of Morgan’s diaper.

‘Poopy butt!’ he said, grinning mischievously. Morgan gasped and squirmed, the look on her face causing Stephen to burst out laughing.
‘Hey!’ Morgan yelled, turning around and pouting. Her expression just made Stephen laugh even more. Morgan gave a small growl and stomped over to the refrigerator grumpily. Stephen wasn’t the only one who could get revenge. Morgan scooped a few ice cubes from the refrigerator’s dispenser and dropped them down the front of her brother’s diaper without hesitation. Stephen’s laughter stopped mid-chuckle and he let out a very surprised squeak instead. He clutched the front of his diaper with discomfort, causing a triumphant smile to appear on his sister’s face.
‘C-C-Cold!’ Stephen said breathlessly, ‘that’s really mean!’
‘Hey, tell it to the chocolate in my baby pants,’ said Morgan, frowning. Stephen pouted and marched off to the corner of the kitchen in his icy diaper.
‘Meanie!’ he said, facing the wall and pouting.
‘Hmph!’ said Morgan, walking to the opposite corner and doing the same. She was waddling uncomfortable due to the affliction she imagined was called “cake butt”. The two of them just stood facing in opposite directions for a minute or so before Stephen began growing impatient. He and Morgan only had the opportunity to dress and act like babies while their parents were out, so he didn’t want to waste time with standing in a corner. He glanced over at Morgan a few times while he stood in the corner. He couldn’t help smirking when he saw the back of her diaper; the chocolate cake really did leave a noticeable bulge. Stephen couldn’t imagine how difficult it must’ve been to walk with a dessert down the back of his diaper, although it was no picnic for him either; being covered in ice cream with rapidly-melting ice cubes in his diaper wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.
An idea occurring to him, Stephen smiled and tiptoed over to the opposite corner. He lifted one hand and poked Morgan in the shoulder. ‘Tag!’ he said, ‘you’re it! Chase me, little miss chocolate diaper!’ Stephen laughed and ran out of the kitchen, into the dining room. Morgan was stunned but couldn’t resist a game of “tag”. She knew the cake in her diaper might cause a few problems for her but she was too competitive to resist. She grinned and tore out of the kitchen after her brother.
Morgan chased Stephen around the dining table, waddling babyishly as her brother outran and outmanoeuvred her, diving over the table and running into the living room to escape.
‘You’re too slooooow!’ Stephen teased, throwing a cushion in Morgan’s path as an obstacle. Stephen dived behind the couch, thinking that he had no other choice but to hide; he would have to run past Morgan if he wanted to continue running, so stealth was the only option. Morgan, meanwhile, had leapt over the cushion with ballerina-style grace and landed softly at Stephen’s feet. Lying face-down, Stephen hadn’t noticed her. ‘She’ll never find me here,’ said Stephen quietly, in the way that only a toddler or a teenage boy who watched too many cartoons would do, ‘I’m invisible. Totally hidden from view and impossible to see with the naked eye! Stupid Morgany cake-pants!’ Morgan rolled her eyes but had a small grin on her face at the same time. She looked around the living room, wondering what would be the best way to surprise her little brother. Stephen had brought a lot of toys downstairs, some that Morgan hadn’t seen for years. She smirked when she saw an old Halloween mask lying on the couch. She had bought it for the year when she decided to dress as a bumblebee but ultimately chose not to wear it when trick-or-treating; her costume turned out to be cute, rather than accurate, and the mask looked too insect-like. It was clearly plastic but Morgan had preferred to paint her face yellow and black instead. It was a lot cuter and, most importantly, more childish. However, Morgan thought the mask would come in very useful for giving Stephen a shock. She tiptoed around the other side of the couch and slipped the Halloween mask over her face.
Stephen was still lying behind the couch, face-down. He had no idea what was coming and thought Morgan was still chasing him. He continued to work on the idea of running past Morgan so she wouldn’t tag him. In a moment of silence, Stephen thought it’d be a good time to sneak a peek out from behind the couch. He slowly lifted his head … and found himself face-to-face with a giant insect.
Stephen recoiled in horror and leapt to his feet, turning to run as soon as possible. ‘Ahhh!’ he yelled, running away. He had only seen the terrifying creature for a moment but it was enough to fill him with fear. What was it? Was it really a giant insect monster or was his mind playing tricks on him? Perhaps it was a normal-sized insect but one that was very close to his face. That thought just sent further shivers down Stephen’s spine; Stephen was arachnophobic and, although he couldn’t be sure that the creature had been a spider, the idea of a spider being that close to his face brought him close to tears. ‘Morgaaaaan!’ Stephen yelled, running back into the kitchen, ‘save meeeee! Monsterrrrr!’
Stephen looked around when he was in the kitchen but could see no sign of Morgan. She must’ve chased him into the living room … right into the monster’s lair. ‘The … the monster must’ve eaten her …’ Stephen said, stunned. He gulped and shook with fear, his bottom lip trembling. He wasn’t thinking straight. Stephen’s teenage and childlike thoughts seemed to have melded together and a giant insect monster eating his sister actually seemed possible. He choked back the tears as a more worrying thought occurred to him; it was actually his fault if Morgan was eaten. He was the one who insisted on playing “tag” …
Morgan, meanwhile, had taken off her Halloween mask and was giggling to herself quietly in the living room. It was so funny to watch her brother, covered in ice cream and with melted ice cubes in his diaper, sprinting off to the kitchen in a panic. She looked over to the kitchen and could see Stephen with his back to the door. Morgan briefly wondered what he was thinking but shrugged it off and put her mask back on, ready to scare him again. She struggled to keep her giggles quiet as she began to sneak up on him again but she was faced with a few problems.
The floor was covered in flecks of ice cream, water that had dripped from Stephen’s diaper while he had been running and pieces of chocolate cake that had fallen out of the bottom of Morgan’s diaper when she had chased him. Not only that but Morgan couldn’t see much from behind the mask; her vision was limited to two small slits, which wasn’t enough to get a good look at the room around her. Inevitably, Morgan slid on a piece of chocolate cake and she made an “aieee” noise as she fell to the floor with a thud. She had been holding the mask between her finger and thumb – the elastic designed to hold it on her face had snapped years earlier – and as she tumbled, it flew out of her hand and disappeared under the dining table with a clatter.
Stephen looked around as he heard a noise, frightened that it might’ve been the monster again. He gasped when he saw Morgan on the floor but the mask was under the dining table, where he couldn’t see it. ‘Morgany!’ Stephen yelled with surprise, ‘are you okay?’ Stephen ran over to Morgan to help her to her feet. Morgan blushed with embarrassment, mainly because she had just sat on the chocolate cake that was in the back of her diaper. ‘I was so worried,’ said Stephen, holding Morgan’s hand, ‘I thought a monster got you and gobbled you up.’ Morgan’s eyes widened as Stephen put his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back in surprise, not knowing what else to do; Stephen had thought the monster was real!? It came as a shock to Morgan and she was overcome with guilt. Her heart sank when she remembered that Stephen had a fear of spiders and that probably added to how scared he was. ‘I had nobody to protect me …’ Stephen added.
That was the last straw; Morgan’s bottom lip began to tremble and she started to sniffle. She gave a few dry sobs before a few tears leaked out the corners of her eyes. Stephen looked up at her in confusion. ‘Aw, Morgan, you’re crying,’ he said, ‘why? Are you scared of the monster? I think it’s gone now …’ Stephen paused to hug Morgan tighter, ‘… I think he knew my big sister was here to keep me safe, so he ran off …’
Morgan’s crying became louder. The guilt was just too much to take. How could I have been so stupid? Morgan thought to herself. By now, her crying was practically a full-blown “waaaaahhhhh” noise. Very babyish but certainly not the kind of “babyish” that Morgan and Stephen enjoyed.
Stephen’s bottom lip began to tremble and, to his surprise, he started to cry too. It had been a difficult day for him and he wasn’t thinking straight with ice cream on his head and shoulders, a soaking wet diaper taped around his bottom and the shock of the “monster” attack still fresh in his mind. He couldn’t help being a little childish after everything he’d been through and the sight of his big sister crying was enough to set him off too. Morgan raised her eyebrows and sniffled a little. She subtly altered their poses, so she was the one holding Stephen comfortingly and stroking his hair gently with one hand. A few more sobs escaped Morgan’s lips as she realised that Stephen was only crying because of her. The guilt inside her grew a little more, in spite of Morgan doing her best to reassure herself that she was doing everything she could to comfort her little brother.
You’ve got to tell him, her conscience said, you’ve got to. You know you’ll regret it if you don’t. The guilt won’t go away just because of a comforting hug or two. Morgan’s expression turned into a pout as she knew her conscience was telling the truth. She wouldn’t be able to face Stephen properly if she didn’t come clean with him. Morgan’s heart sank. Stupid conscience, she thought to herself.
‘Are … are you okay?’ Stephen asked, his bottom lip trembling. Morgan cleared her throat and wiped the tears from her eyes. Time to put on her big girl pants and come clean. There was a first time for everything …
‘Yeah,’ said Morgan, taking a deep breath to steady her voice, ‘listen … there’s something you should know.’
‘Hm?’ Stephen asked curiously.
‘The … the monster? It was me,’ said Morgan, hugging Stephen close to her to avoid looking him in the eyes, ‘I was the m-monster. I was wearing a mask and sneaked up on you when you were behind the couch. I’m really s-sorry.’ Morgan bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling and kept as still as she could, desperate to hear what Stephen would say. There was a long pause and Morgan’s mind raced, wondering if Stephen would be upset or angry or distant. Morgan couldn’t do anything but wait, staying as still as a statue and even holding her breath, so desperate was she to hear what Stephen said.
‘I don’t care,’ said Stephen, hugging Morgan tighter. Morgan’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Huh?’ she asked, ‘you … you don’t care?’
‘Nope,’ said Stephen, ‘it doesn’t matter that you scared me. You were no scarier with the creepy mask on than you are without it.’
‘Shut up! Poopy face!’ said Morgan, unable to hide her grin. Stephen smiled too and shook his head mischievously. The two of them giggled a little but didn’t say anything, happy to enjoy the friendship between them. It was a huge weight off Morgan’s shoulders and she wanted to savour the moment.
‘So you’re okay?’ asked Stephen, more relaxed.
‘Yeah. No more tears,’ said Morgan, smiling and nodding, ‘my bum’s feeling a little chocolate-y though.’ Stephen laughed while Morgan reached for a tissue from the box on the dining table.
‘Well we have lots of fresh diapers and baby wipes,’ he said, ‘we need them after how, uh, “chocolate-y” your bum can get from time to time.’ Morgan gave a weary smirk and held the tissue up for Stephen to blow on, which he gladly did. ‘Just kidding,’ he added in a squeaky voice, as Morgan held his nose. Morgan’s grin widened and she mussed her brother’s hair up a bit.
‘We should both get cleaned up,’ she said, ‘I think that monster scared something out of you, if you know what I mean.’
‘Heeey, I’m clean and dry!’ said Stephen, folding his arms and pouting indignantly, ‘except for the ice you put down the front of my diaper!’ Stephen looked at Morgan’s clothes with a raised eyebrow; since he’d been hugging her, she had more than a little ice cream on her too.
‘I dunno, doesn’t smell like it,’ Morgan teased. Stephen blushed but was determined not to give in.
‘Nu-uh, does not!’ he countered, ‘or … does too! Whichever one is right in this non-poopy diaper situation!’ Morgan sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Arguing with Stephen meant that everything was back to normal.
‘Either way, I’d say we both need a change,’ Morgan said.
‘Yeah,’ said Stephen, with a smile, ‘I think we do. And … sorry. For making your bum messy.’
‘I’m sorry for … all the other stuff,’ said Morgan, her heart warming to her little brother as it so often did in tender moments. Even after everything she had done to Stephen – scaring him with the mask, covering him with ice cream and putting ice down his diaper – he was the first to apologise for his actions. Although a slice of chocolate cake against her behind wasn’t any fun, Morgan knew that Stephen had been on the receiving end of worse treatment. Being kind to her brother was the least Morgan could do. ‘I’ll start the bath,’ she said, ‘you wanna go in first?’ Stephen smiled and shook his head.
‘I think you need it more,’ he said, with a playful smile, ‘seriously, you smell worse than cheese and feet mixed together in a bowl made of poop!’ Stephen winked at his sister and dashed up the staircase to the bathroom, laughing to himself. Morgan just smiled and rolled her eyes.
‘I always end up being the grown-up in the end,’ she mused, traipsing after her brother.

Art by Pink-Diapers Written by Guest-1001 and Pink-Diapers

Morgan and Steven

Morgan and Stephen aren’t your typical brother and sister. While other siblings relax on the weekends by playing videogames together, watching television, or having a game of soccer at the park with some of their friends, Morgan and Stephen have a different way of unwinding. When they’re by themselves, their parents out and neither of them expecting visitors, the two of them love nothing more than to put on diapers and act like babies together.
Morgan’s bedroom was home to a whole host of baby items. Packs of disposable diapers were piled up in a corner, a few bibs decorated with pictures of cartoon characters lay on the bed and stuffed animals, baby rattles and action figures were scattered across the floor. A whole host of babyish objects were hidden around Morgan and Stephen’s bedrooms, so their mother and father wouldn’t find them while cleaning or doing chores. Morgan hid her favourite pacifier in her jewellery box while Stephen kept his locked up inside his piggy bank. Their baby clothes were folded up inside empty boxes of board games they no longer played and bottles, rattles and bibs were hidden in the false bottom of the drawer in Stephen’s bedside table. As for the diapers, Morgan had hidden them at the bottom of her laundry basket. As well as doing her own laundry, which meant that their parents would never have a reason to take clothes from the basket, Morgan was careful enough to make sure that there was always at least one item of clothing that needed washing, so the diapers were always covered. The stuffed animals and action figures didn’t require any measures to keep them hidden; all Morgan and Stephen had to do was tell their parents that their toys had a lot of sentimental value for the two of them and they shouldn’t be sold or disposed of.
Because of these precautions, Morgan and Stephen were able to keep their hobby a secret from their parents and everyone else. Dressing up and acting like babies was just “their thing”. Whenever they had a lengthy period of time to be alone, the pants came off and the diapers went on. As soon as they were dressed, the two of them grabbed the nearest stuffed animal and began to try outdoing each other when it came to baby talk. During their time as babies, Morgan and Stephen shook rattles together, scribbled in colouring books with crayons and made up stories about fairy princesses and dashing knights to tell one another.
However, Morgan and Stephen were brother and sister. This meant that, like all brothers and sisters, they argued. A lot.
‘Nobody is going to take a little itty bitty baby boy seriously when it comes to cuteness!’ said Morgan, grinning smugly, ‘everyone knows the girls have it all!’
‘You wish!’ Stephen retorted, ‘girls are only cuter for superficial people who go on appearances alone.’
‘Hey, I put the super in superficial!’ said Morgan. She gave a small giggle and tossed her hair back as if she was modelling for a photo shoot. Stephen grumbled. Morgan seemed to be impervious to criticism. He would have to use harsher insults.
‘Yeah? Well … well … you’re a poopy face!’ he said. Morgan looked taken aback but quickly composed herself, looking stony-faced. She could tell that Stephen was bringing out the big guns.
‘You’re a doo doo head and your face is made of smelly cheese,’ she said, by no means a novice when it came to arguments, ‘plus, your whole body was made in a jerk factory in Jerksville!’ Morgan stuck out her tongue, which just spurred Stephen on more.
‘Well you’re a monkey butt who lives in a dinosaur’s toilet and smell really bad all the time,’ he said, before folding his arms and sticking his tongue out at Morgan too. It was sometimes hard to believe that Morgan and Stephen were teenagers.
‘Well … well you live under a beaver’s butt and you smell like a beaver’s butt cuz … cuz that’s where you live!’ Morgan exclaimed.
‘Nu-uh!’ Stephen retorted.
‘Yes-huh!’ Morgan growled. A small smirk appeared on her face when she looked at Stephen; his expression was angry but his babyish pout couldn’t have made him look any less threatening. For Stephen’s part, although he knew he and Morgan were just being playful when they teased each other, he still wanted to win the argument. Nothing would please him more than to wipe the grin off his big sister’s face.
‘Well your favourite food is waffles and idiot sauce!’ Stephen said, convinced he’d come up with a good argument, ‘and you live in a tent with holes in it and … and the name on your mailbox says “duhhhhh”.’
‘Nu-uh!’ said Morgan, ‘I live in a pretty pink castle in the sky and ride unicorns all day and eat candy and you’re not allowed to come up there cuz you’re a lame-butt and you have to stay in lame-butt-town!’
‘Nu-uh! I live in Awesomeville and I’m the only one who lives there, so I’m the Mayor of Awesome!’ said Stephen, thinking that if Morgan could invent somewhere cool to live, he could too, ‘and you really live in Loserland and live in a giant kitty litter box with the other bits of doo doo! And you wear flares!’ Stephen grinned, thinking that the insult about flares would put Morgan over the edge.
‘Well … no! Cuz your stupid Awesometown which is really Stupidtown just exploded and turned into poop-dust and now you sit around being smelly all alone,’ said Morgan, turning her nose up at her brother, ‘and I know what flares are so … shut up!’ Stephen pouted again. The teasing wasn’t going the way he had planned.
‘You shut up!’ he whined, ‘your favourite toy is a stick with lame juice all over it! And the lame juice got there because you touched it! With your lame germs and loser cooties!’ Morgan gasped and a satisfied smirk appeared on Stephen’s face. He knew that teasing Morgan about cooties was hitting her where it really hurt. She hadn’t had the most pleasant experience with head lice when she was little. She always appreciated Stephen’s reaction to it though. He hadn’t minded; he had called her “the cootie cutie”.
‘I … don’t … have … cooties!’ Morgan roared, with an angry expression on her face. She spotted Stephen’s favourite fire truck out the corner of her eye and a mischievous grin teased the corners of her mouth. She leapt to her feet and dashed over to the toy, snatched it up with one hand and then hurried over to the window. Stephen gasped and quickly crawled over to where Morgan was standing, his diapered bottom wiggling back and forth as he moved. By that point, the window was open and Morgan was holding it outside.
‘Nooooo, not the fire truck!’ he said pleadingly, ‘please don’t drop it! I’ll do anything you want!’ Morgan giggled and looked at her little brother deviously. She felt a tad sympathetic towards him but she didn’t let it show; she wanted Stephen to think she had the upper hand. Morgan wasn’t really going to drop her brother’s favourite fire truck. She was nowhere near that cruel or wicked. Likewise, Stephen knew that he would never break any of Morgan’s toys. However, that didn’t stop him for thinking Morgan might break some of his. There was a chance that the cooties comment was the straw that broke the camel’s back and, as long as Morgan had the fire truck, he had to dance to her tune.
‘Anythiiiiing?’ Morgan asked, smirking.
‘Yep, anything,’ said Stephen desperately, ‘except … stub my toe. I won’t do that. But anything else!’ Morgan stroked her chin for a moment, with a thoughtful expression on his face. Stephen, on the other hand, had his eyes glued on the fire truck. He was sure Morgan was losing her grip …
‘Okay,’ said Morgan, looking down at Stephen, ‘you have to bow down and say “Morgan, you’re the greatest princess ever and you’re suuuuuper cool and really pretty, probably the prettiest girl ever”! Oh, and you have to call me “princess” and be my slave!’ Stephen pouted, his bottom lip trembling with frustration. He knew he’d only have to do it for as long as Morgan held his fire truck out the window but how long would that be? He knew Morgan had strong arms; she always won their arm-wrestling contests.
‘Grrr … okay,’ Stephen mumbled.
‘Saaaaay it!’ Morgan commanded, grinning. Stephen sighed and bowed down, so his nose was an inch away from the carpet.
‘Morgan,’ he started, ‘you’re the greatest … princess ever and you are super cool and really …’ Stephen started to struggle with his words, ‘… really …’ he had an urge to be mischievous, ‘… really poopy! Probably the poopiest girl ever! And now I’ll call you poopy and be your … super cool boss ‘n’ stuff!’ Stephen leapt to his feet, laughing out loud at the expression on Morgan’s face. She was fuming. Stephen expected to see steam shoot out of her ears at any moment.
‘I hope there’s a fire house and a toy hospital in the backyard, cuz mister fire truck is going for a little trip!’ Morgan threatened. Stephen panicked but a light bulb appeared over his head. If Morgan could do it …
Stephen looked around the room desperately before spying Morgan’s favourite doll, near to where she had been sitting. It looked surprisingly like him, with the same black hair and glasses. Stephen had made a mental note to reciprocate and get a doll with long red hair but hadn’t got around to it. ‘Ah-ha!’ he said, grabbing the doll off the ground, ‘if you do anything to my fire truck, I might just have to do something with this!’ Morgan winced.
‘You put that down or all your toy soldiers are going M.I.A.!’ she said. Stephen bit his bottom lip. Morgan wasn’t giving up.
‘You put down the fire truck or I’ll shave your teddy bears so they’re all bald!’ he said, upping his game too. Morgan gasped and instinctively moved her hand back into the room, just in case she dropped the fire truck by accident. She really didn’t want bald teddy bears.
‘If you do that, I’ll put all your clothes in the laundry with a red sock and turn them all pink!’ she said, with a grin. She was already imagining Stephen going to bed in pink pyjamas and sliding pink underpants on every morning. He’d certainly worn more embarrassing things – his diaper was evidence of that – as well as more girly pieces of clothing too. However, as far as Morgan was concerned, this had turned from an argument into a war and the idea of going to school in a pink shirt and pants would eat away at Stephen’s will.
‘Grrr,’ said Stephen, through clenched teeth, ‘well I’ll buy new ones, make you wear them and then give you a haircut so you look like a boy! Even more than you already do!’
‘I’ll … I’ll tell everyone at school that you still wet the bed,’ said Morgan, now making completely empty threats, ‘and I do not look like a boy!’
‘Yes you do,’ Stephen lied, ‘I’ve seen dogs that look more feminine than you.’ He bit his bottom lip again, in order to hold back the apology that threatened to escape his mouth. He felt guilty about having to stoop so low but was willing to use whatever tactics he could in order to defeat his sister in their epic battle.
‘Hmph!’ Morgan huffed, ‘maybe like a super cute puppy dog with ribbons and bows …’
‘Nu-uh!’ said Stephen, ‘more like a Great Dane. Or a St Bernard. Oh! Or an Orang-utan in Pampers and a t-shirt! Yep, that’s your look-alike.’
‘Well you look like a dog with no face and two butts and nobody can tell which is your face,’ Morgan countered, with a smug grin. Stephen was dumbstruck and he had to hold back a laugh. He hated to admit it but that was a good insult …
‘Well you’re like a big baboon butt because that’s red, just like your cheeks always are,’ he said, folding his arms. He blew Morgan a raspberry before letting her speak again.
‘Your cheeks are ganna be red when I tell Mom you used the good tablecloth for a cape when were playing pretend as superheroes,’ said Morgan casually. Stephen gasped, feeling his heart plummet.
‘You wouldn’t!’ he squeaked.
‘I sooooo would!’ said Morgan, with a grin, ‘that mud-stained tablecloth would get you in a whooooole lotta trouble, wouldn’t it Stephen? And Mom’s been looking all over for it too. Maybe I’ll just take it out of the hiding spot and show her. Tell her the whooooole story!’ A shiver ran down Stephen’s spine. He was a teenager but a very childish one too and to a child, there was no greater threat than a sibling saying, “I’ll tell Mom”. Morgan had absolutely no intention of letting their parents know anything about the tablecloth; she remembered the fun she had when she and Stephen had played “Superhero” in the backyard, just wearing diapers, t-shirts and their “super accessories”. The fence in the backyard was high enough to ensure their privacy while playing together, so they could be as babyish as they wanted without the neighbours seeing. Morgan and Stephen had wrestled, talked like superheroes and come up with their own superhero theme tunes too. It had all been a lot of fun and Morgan wasn’t going to make their parents suspicious about their activities by giving them a slightly muddy tablecloth.
However, Stephen didn’t know that and thought it was about time to start being a little more cooperative. Not completely but a little. ‘You didn’t have a problem with me wearing that tablecloth as a cape when you got to put a colander on your head and pretend to be a super-villain,’ he pointed out, grinning as a few fond memories returned to him. Morgan grinned too.
‘You just barely escaped defeat at the hands of Galaxia and her Helmet Of Doom!’ she said. She and Stephen both giggled, remembering a few of their verbal sparring matches as hero and villain. After they’d stopped laughing, Morgan and Stephen stared at each other for a moment, still grinning. By now, the window was closed and Morgan was absent-mindedly spinning the wheels of the fire truck with her fingers. Stephen, too, was hugging Morgan’s doll tenderly, not even thinking about doing anything unpleasant with it, as he had said. They put their respective toys down and Morgan brushed off her hands, smiling. ‘Hey …’ she said, ‘ya wanna go play Superhero now?’
‘Okay!’ said Stephen eagerly, dashing out of the room. Morgan giggled and chased after him. ‘Prepare to face infinite justice at the hands of … the Caped Commando!’ Stephen called out to her.
‘You won’t escape the traps I devised for you, Caped Commando!’ said Morgan, in a super-villain voice, ‘let’s use the dining room table and chairs as a fortress! And try not to get them muddy, like you did with the tablecloth.’

Art by Pink-Diapers Written by Guest-1001 and Pink-Diapers