Story #139: Shameful Symmetry

Story #139: Shameful Symmetry: (Content Tags: Slice of life, messy diapers, forced diapering, dummy in diapers, twins, crazy stepmom, humiliation) Identical twins should be identical, at least in theory; hence the name in the first place. In some rare instances, this isn't exactly the case. For ten year old twins Oscar and Owen, there were some distinct differences between them. On a purely physical level, Oscar carried more weight than his brother and had far worse posture, but the real kicker was what difference there was mentally. While Owen was above average, Oscar had been born with little wit to speak of. It was as if Owen had taken all the intelligence for himself while they had been in the womb. It mattered little when they were babies, but as early as preschool, Owen knew that his brother was significantly different than him. Owen had been pottytrained a little past two, and he'd had to watch every day since as his twin could never catch up. Even now, in fourth grade, and Oscar was as far away from underwear as he'd been as a toddler. It was unsightly having to live side-by-side with a twisted reflection such as that. Whenever he saw his brother at home, in just his plush padding, with a finger in his nose and a lump growing in his seat, it was like looking in a funhouse mirror. That was *his* face plastered on the drooling moron that was mindlessly filling his diaper like a newborn. Besides that perpetually present unsettling image, there was also how it impacted his life in other ways. While most kids his age were mature enough to not make a big deal about it, Owen could remember the humiliation he'd faced growing up, when children had mocked him for the sins of his brother. Guilt by association had been a misery that'd plagued him all his life. When his parents had divorced, he'd hoped that his mother would take Oscar with her, but he hadn't been so lucky. The twins wouldn't be separated, and their woefully incompetent father would be taking prime custody. Not much longer after that and he'd start seeing a new woman: Marjorie. She was a strange one. She displayed some odd hybridization of 'crunchy', 'woo', and 'Karen'. Owen simply found her obnoxious at the beginning, and was wary when she got way too involved in trying to become enmeshed in his and Oscar's life. Marjorie was the type of woman that had an oil for everything, who talked about crystals, the age of Aquarius and 'indigo children'. He probably should have been more proactive in veering his father away from the crazy woman, especially whenever she blamed his brother's lacking intellect on vaccines and refined sugars, but the time for that had long passed; they hadn't yet married, but his father had invited the woman and her kids to move in with them, much to Owen's chagrin. With two extra kids in the house, that meant even less space; that meant that the twins no longer had separate bedrooms either. Owen had been forced to give up his bedroom to a boy who was a little younger than him and had been moved into Oscar's room, which was an undeniable downgrade. The guest room had been refitted to become the bedroom for the woman's young daughter. It wasn't just, but what was Owen to do? Marjorie's children were spoiled little brats who'd been convinced by her that they were special, and there was no way either of them would have agreed to bunk with Oscar; they'd had their own rooms in their other house too, so they weren't willing to share with eachother here. Thus Owen was forced to share a cramped space with his embarrassment of a twin brother, and worse than that, share the same fetid air. Having to see, hear, and smell his brother much more frequently had made him grow resentful; it also forced him to look in that twisted 'mirror' every morning and night. Still, Owen could have suffered such an indignity in silence, if not for Marjorie continuing to meddle. Once the woman had gotten comfortable in their home, she had turned her sights on the twins and considered them a new pet project. Her own kids already had their niche within her new-age worldview, which was what had twisted them into being so self-centered, but the twins were an opportunity for something else. Symmetry. Marjorie believed that symmetry was a fundamental force of the cosmos, and more than that, she believed that asymmetry was both a cause and symptom of poor fortune. Nothing better symbolized symmetry than the concept of identical twins; they were the human archetype for the balance of all things! This kooky belief was silly to a clever little boy like Owen, but he thought it mostly harmless, at least at the beginning. The woman's obsession with twins being the 'same' started as mere observations; just comments about how different the two brothers were. She wasn't rude or malicious in her words, though she was a little too quick in her supposed affection for her stepsons-to-be. After a small streak of bad luck in the family, which had started with his father losing his job, the woman's quirky commentary had become a little more serious. She was convinced that it was the asymmetry of the twins that was attracting this poor fortune, and she planned to take things into her own hands. Her experiment started small. She bought a matching pair of shirts for the boys, and then the same socks; this slowly progressed to making sure their plates looked the same at dinner, and sending Owen to bed at the same earlier time as his mushbrained brother. By coincidence, his father soon got a new job after this, and a better one at that. The kicker was that his father would have to do some traveling away from home, which would leave Marjorie as the only authority in the household. She saw this as an opportunity to continue shortening the gap between the two boys and got the permission of their oblivious father to do as she saw fit. Their father wasn't into the same new-age woo, but he also wasn't opposed to it. He gave the woman his blessing to run the household as she saw fit in his absence, even if that were to mean continuing down this path of 'balance' that she'd been proselytizing about. She also convinced him to allow her to homeschool the boys, just as she did for her own children, since she didn't trust the public school system. A few days after he left, during the morning, she would be taking the next big step in her experiment. It was early, and the twins were just starting to wake up. They shared a bunk bed, with Oscar on bottom. Owen had, as usual, woken up to the foul odor that was smoldering hot and fresh in the back of his brother's tightly taped diaper. Tucked beneath his pajamas or not, the scent of his mindless bed-pooping, to which Owen had heard during the night, was potent. It was a nuisance, and vile, but hardly worth any sense of surprise; that would be saved for what would be coming next. Marjorie had opened the door to give the boys a 'good morning', and Owen had merely grunted back in turn, still too groggy to socialize. With his father not here, the woman had been the one to change Oscar in the mornings, so her presence was expected. What wasn't expected was her telling Owen to wait before getting changed into his daytime clothes. "...I need to get ready for school." He murmured. "You won't be going back to that place. It's far too stifling for a child's spirit. You'll be learning at home, just like my kids do." That was a red flag, but whatever. Owen would take the vacation from school, at least until his father came back home and saw what a poor idea this was. He yawned and sat on the bed, quietly watching as Marjorie got his twin to strip down to his dirty, bloated night diaper. She was starting to talk about the importance of 'symmetry' again, which he zoned out for; he also averted his eyes when she untaped the nasty garment, since he didn't want to ruin his appetite before breakfast. Once Oscar was in a fresh diaper, she didn't bother with pants, instead just putting a shirt on him with an arrow that said 'We're Twins!'. Owen grimaced when he saw that, since he was pretty sure that meant she got him a shirt to match it. "Come get on the changing mat, Owen." That was where the line got crossed for real. Everything before it had been annoying, but nothing could compare to being told that he would be taped up into a diaper, just like his idiotic brother; well, at least until later when he got told to *use* the diaper too. Owen threw a tantrum, obviously, because who wouldn't? Marjorie wasn't stern or gruff about proceeding, instead trying to use a soothing tone and flowery language to make it sound as if this was somehow a good thing. Owen could fuss all he wanted, but the woman was determined, and she was also bigger than him, so the diaper went on. She would then have them stand side-by-side to compare them. They were looking a lot more like twins now, but there were still some differences that stopped them from being identical. The drooly, stupid look on Oscar's face and the extra pudge he had were the main offenders. She made a mental note to get a few pounds on Owen, who was very slim in contrast, but the intelligence difference would obviously be more difficult to achieve. She led the pair down to breakfast, where she'd made a healthy, 'natural' meal that Owen still hadn't gotten used to. Oscar got into his highchair, which would be another thing they'd need a duplicate of. Marjorie's kids gawked at the sight of both twins being diapered, and Owen felt his face burn as he could feel their eyes on his butt. Bradynn, the boy, was the first to make a comment about the puffy padding that adorned Owen's bum. "Wow! Which one is which?" His younger sister, Jasmine, would let out a giggle in turn and nod her head. "Now they're real twins!" Owen groaned and took a seat at the kitchen table, his new diaper crinkling gently as he put his rump down. "I'm the smart one." He seethed, "Shouldn't be hard to tell us apart." "Does this mean that the twins are gonna hafta do all the same stuff from now on? Cuz of sim-uh-tree?" Bradynn asked his mother, seeming to ignore Owen's grumpy comment. The woman beamed and put a plate down for Oscar on the tray of his highchair; she seemed proud that her obnoxious children were understanding the ideology that she'd been filling their heads with. "That's right, Bradynn. Symmetry is very important for cosmic balance; identical twins should be the same." "But we're *not* the same!" Owen exclaimed, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "We're not even close! Oskar's not my twin, not really, he's more like a baby brother." As if to agree, Oscar suddenly leaned forward in his highchair, his face and hands already covered in oatmeal, and he let loose a bubbling fart into the bulky diaper around his waist. "Mmmph...! Got make poopie...! Poopie come out!" It sounded more like he was trying to coax his own waste to surge outward, rather than simply making an announcement about its arrival. The two children adjacent to Owen seemed to find it funny, but Owen could only feel secondhand embarrassment at the sight. As always, it felt like he was looking in a funhouse mirror; Oscar even shared the same voice, though distinctive enough from his lack of proper speech skills. Marjorie took advantage of the outburst to put a plate in front of Owen, and while his oatmeal still had utensils, they were plastic and so was the bowl. She also put a colorful, plastic cup of almond milk down next to it, and it was obviously just one of Oscar's sippy cups with the lid taken off. Owen didn't notice, at least not yet. His gaze, much like the other two kids at the table, was transfixed purely on the slovenly sight of his red-faced brother, who was unmistakably trying to push a big turd out into his diaper, just like every other meal. Oatmeal and spittle dripped onto his bib, while some sweat began to run from his forehead and his eyes squinted shut. Oscar's highchair poops were usually a struggle for the hefty boy; with his puffy rump so snugly flat against the seat, and with little wiggle room, he had to really strain to get the log to start coiling up in his diaper. Aside from his size, his mannerisms were almost the exact same as a little toddler. That's really what he was: just a very large toddler with very large diapers and BMs. And *this* was what she wanted Owen to be more similar to? It made Owen's stomach churn. A sickening sound came from the backside of the diaper and Oscar's mouth hung open in relief as he was able to completely cram the mushy, hot steamer in the back. His tongue lolled out and he looked directly at Owen, as if expecting that he'd follow suit. Owen averted his eyes and began to eat his oatmeal. Symmetry be damned, he had no plan to imitate any part of that, even if he was wearing a diaper too! He hadn't thought too much about whether or not it would be expected of him either; did Marjorie want more than them to look the same? She couldn't honestly expect a normal boy like him to simply start pooing and peeing himself, or slobbering like a moron! As Owen ate the flavorless slop in his bowl, he could already feel his gut gurgling. He typically did his business right after breakfast, before he finished getting ready for school, and the high-fiber oatmeal he was eating wasn't making things any better. He considered asking about the logistics of using the bathroom, since it would mean pulling down the diaper and possibly messing up the tapes, but he didn't want to focus on it any more than necessary. He figured that he'd just go take care of things once he was done here, and if the diaper got trashed while he was using the bathroom, then so be it. He was angry and embarrassed that he was wearing it in the first place, and it wasn't as if he needed it to function for its practical purpose. While Oscar wore his to keep his poopies off the floor, it was little more than a piece of a costume for Owen. At least that's how he saw it. That was the only somewhat *reasonable* way to see it, wasn't it? Owen wasn't mentally retarded like his twin brother, so a protective garment was totally pointless! The more he considered it, the more irritable he became; he was being forced to play dress-up, as if Marjorie was a little girl that wanted to play house, and all because of her insane belief system. While he simmered and seethed, eating his oatmeal in complete silence, the others at the table had continued on with their conversation. The new topic at hand was Marjorie informing her children that the twins would be joining them for their homeschooling lessons. Oscar seemed clueless about that, which was unsurprising, since he didn't exactly do much at regular school. Owen finished his breakfast and stood up to go put his dishes in the sink. His stomach was starting to cramp a little more, and his bladder ached for relief. While he shuffled away to put his dishes away, Oscar was getting his face wiped off with a washcloth and was being freed from the restraint of the highchair. As the dummy got back on solid ground, his diaper sagged a little in back from the weight of his breakfast BM. "What a stinky little boy! Did you make a big present for mama?" Marjorie cooed, bending down to rest her palm on the back of Oscar's diaper, as if weighing the misdeed in his seat. "I did a big stinky poop!" The drooly boy giggled, seeming unperturbed by the smoldering mass. Nothing abnormal there, Owen's twin brother had always been rather scatological and took blatant pleasure in having a smelly diaper, ever since both of them were on equal pottytraining grounds. "Yes you did! What about you, Owen? Did you make a present for mama too?" The woman cooed, reaching over as Owen was walking past and hooking her finger into the waistband of his own diaper. The boy grimaced at hearing her call herself 'mama'. He might not have a great relationship with his real mother, who he only saw a couple of times a month, but that didn't mean he was looking for a wannabe replacement. That went double for someone as certifiably crazy as Marjorie! "L-let go! No, I didn't do *that*. I'm pottytrained like a normal kid." He growled, cheeks growing warm at the assumption that he'd just readily soil himself, just because he'd been put in a diaper like Oscar. The woman smiled and gave him a pat on his padded butt; she acted as if he hadn't said anything at all, instead standing back up and saying: "No poopies here... We'll have to get you two synchronized. You are twins after all."