Saturday, January 15, 2011
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
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