CutieButtCrusader

It's been a while since I've written or read anything ABDL related. Some of you, like me, feel the compulsion come in waves. One such wave struck today, and I ended up writing this as a form of therapy. Obviously I didn't fall into the Diaper Dimension, but I have a different happy ending of sorts. Still, it's a beautiful dream, and I hope you enjoy it. *** I remember the Before Time in dreams. There, I’m still a little girl’s heart in a grown man’s body, lost in too large a world, regardless of size. There, the cold is all consuming, and always finds me no matter where I hide; no matter how many blankets I use to smother my bed. At my age I should know better - be better, stronger; know by instinct how to navigate this life I was always destined for, outside the nest and out of my mother’s arms. Except that I never had a Mum, or even much of a Dad. Growing up I watched friends with whole families who could afford to take love for granted. What love I had were table scraps, but after a while you make peace with starvation. You learn to survive as best you can. Nobody wants to hear a grown man cry about a lost childhood, so I stomped it down and did the next best thing - tried to lose myself in the arms of women. I can still see her face, although it was many faces. Steph, Jenn, Lisa - different people, but similar in the loneliness I felt with them. I guess you could say I had a type. In all of them I saw the same smile; joyous laughter waning into tight, long-suffering grins, and eyes that sought out a man through his ever-present despair. How could I forget the looks on their faces when I told them the ugly truth? What was inside me, that she was still a child, and that she was lonely. Sometimes confusion, sometimes disgust, and sometimes anger in defiance of my words. Anything to avoid the fact that they didn’t love a man, but a twisted ‘thing’ in a man costume. “What do you expect me to do about it?” she/they snapped. “I’m not your mother. I’m not here to kiss your boo-boos better.” As if I ever knew what that was like. Such was life in the Before Time; a waking nightmare suffered until death. I wasn’t even awake before I started crying. The bars of my crib were a haze through the salty tears. Big feelings filled my chest, and next I knew I was wailing at the top of my lungs! The Before Times were over, but their memory still followed wherever I went. Then Mommy appeared, just like she did the first time - as an angel stealing me up for the rapture. My back and my torso slid into her hands, feeling her warmth flowing into me, already sapping the sadness. Hers was the power to reach into my chest and lift the weight that held me below the surface. “It’s alright, babygirl,” she cooed. Babygirl - not a yucky boy, but a princess who needed her Mommy; who was safe and never wanting for kindness. I loved my long, auburn locks; my pastel pink sleeper and all my pretty dresses - and the larger than life woman who adored them all; adored me! I clung to her as though my life depended on it, and with my head resting on her breast soothed to the gentle beat of her heart. And she held me back, bouncing me in her arms and stroking between my shoulders. Of course she took the time to do a sneaky diaper check - I was soaked like I was every morning, but that was a later problem. The nightmare eased its claws but still lingered. It plucked the strings of shame, echoing voices long since passed. My little hands pawed at Mommy’s nightshirt, desperate to get closer than close. A cold shiver ran over my skin as the tsunami threatened to come crashing down, pulling me to depths not even Mommy could reach. How could someone as sweet and as wonderful as her ever want someone like me? I grasped for an answer, but fell short. The trap door fell open and I fell once more into the dark. “You should’a left me,” I said. “I know dat I’m a bad girl, an’ I’m broken, an’ need to grow up, an’-” Mommy hushed me and bounced me higher to her shoulder. She cradled my head and rocked me back and forth, and never once made my panic her own. I smelled her hair and the warmth of her skin, and evaporated into a sea of love; love that I didn’t understand - and still don’t - but craved for longer than I could say. “It’s alright, little one. Mommy’s here now,” she sang. “You’re a good girl, you’re a sweet girl, and you’re a loved girl. You’re not broken; just hurt, and that’s okay. I still love you, just the way you are.” And I believed her. She loved me - me, who is a girl; not a yucky boy in an ill-fitting suit. Me, who thought that love was a beautiful lie, who wasn’t allowed to be pretty, who was taught to swallow pain no matter how great. Against everything I knew Mommy appeared, and with her voice, her touch and her caring the world became small again; soft and safe in the way a little girl needs. Some call this dimension a curse, but for me it’s the greatest miracle. It brought me to Mommy, and given the choice I’d fall into it all over again.

Chapter One Author's note: Gosh, it's been so long since I've written a diaper story. But the world being what it is has given me a little more time to work on personal projects, and since I now have a little of my own (Hello, my little rock lizard! I know you're reading this! Mummy loves you!) I thought I'd whip up a little two-parter. Dedicated to Tiffani, whose smile lights my life. * * * * Maya had given up on romance long before landing in the Diaper Dimension. Even in her old life, where she’d labored under the guise of manhood, love was a minefield that left her heartbroken more often than not. She didn’t know at the time that she was a little girl, and what she really needed was a Mommy to change her, feed her, and read bedtime stories. That required a cosmic miracle for her to learn, and she never looked back once it happened. Perhaps that explained all the yelling, the slamming doors, and broken dishes. Neither she or the people she thought she loved were mature enough to handle a truly ‘adult’ relationship. Few people were, at least where she came from. So it was for the best she landed in the arms of an Amazon, where she could know discipline and boundaries, and love without judgement. Mommy knew best, and saw her for who she was. Who would have thought a land of giants would be the safest place for her? On the other hand she did miss sex, and all the nice things that came with it. Whatever. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Things were better this way. “You don’t need to think about that yucky place,” Mommy’d said more than once. “This is your home now, and I’m going to love and keep my baby forever and ever and ever!” That should have been enough - would have been enough - if not for... her. * * * * Maya loved kindergarten, even if it meant being away from Mommy. There were lots of toys and games - a trampoline! (under close supervision) - and all the Amazons who worked there were super nice. Her favorite activity was pounding clay, getting her fingers in the muck, and pounding it into shape with her fists. It was a great way to spend energy! And at the end she always made something pretty, usually farm animals - cows, horses, duckies. If there was one thing she didn’t like, however, it was new kids. Not that there was anything wrong with new kids, except that most of them complained about being “adults” and how being a baby was “undignified”, and lots of other things that earned them a spot in the naughty corner. Maya frowned. She used to be like them, crying about having a “job” and a “family”. They were important for some reason, though the job wasn’t very good and her family weren’t particularly nice. No, things were better this way. A baby’s life was a happy life. The new kids would learn that sooner or later. Then, on a seemingly ordinary Monday, something different happened. “Everyone,” the teacher sang, clapping her hands to get their attention. “We have a new friend joining us! She just came from the little dimension, so give an extra big welcome to Natalie. Can you say ‘hello, Natalie’?” The littles greeted her in chorus, except for Maya, whose thoughts were a million miles away. From the moment she saw the new girl she was transfixed. Her jaw fell slack, and her binky dropped to the end of it’s clip. Natalie - or ‘Natty’ or ‘Nally’ as the other kids were calling her - was the prettiest girl Maya had ever laid eyes on, except for Mommy. She had the biggest smile, and big brown eyes that sparkled with wonder; and such pretty hair! Soft, brunette ringlets that hung around her cheeks. She wasn’t like the other new kids. She didn’t fuss with her diaper, or try to pull off the tapes. And she seemed right at home in a bibbed skirt, lavender onesie, and berets every color of the rainbow. Wasn’t she from the other dimension? Yet she’d taken to her new role so quickly. As far as Maya was concerned, that made her the smartest little on either world. A swell of butterflies churned in her tummy. Maya wondered if she wanted something to eat or drink, but no. It was something else. She felt it every time she turned toward Natalie. It wasn’t a very nice feeling. Maybe it would stop if she ran to the other side of the room. So she did, making sure to stay as far from the new girl as she could for the whole day. That should have made it better, but it didn’t. * * * * The car ride home was quieter than usual. Mommy arrived at three on the dot, picked up her baby girl and fussed over her, saying how much she missed her - Maya missed Mommy, too! - and strapped her into the booster seat in the back of the car. Maya used to drive a car; one sized for a little in a world full of littles, maybe a tenth of the size of the car Mommy drove. But as much as she missed the freedom of the road, she liked her booster seat more. The belts were secure and safe, almost as safe as Mommy’s arms. And it was nice to see the world pass by as she daydreamed - about animals and raindrops… And Natalie. She blushed and curled into a ball. Not even Mommy was allowed to see how embarrassed she was. What if she laughed? Maya was rarely aware of how saturated her diaper was - at least not as much as she used to. It was assumed by the time they arrived home she would be positively soaked, but after a few months she’d stopped thinking about it. Though her sudden hardness removed all doubt. Her clitty twitched against the damp lining, which only teased it more. “No,” she whined. Maya shook her head. She didn’t want this - at least, that’s what she told herself. Her thoughts were flooded with imagined sensations. What did Natalie’s lips feel like, taste like? What did she have underneath her clothes? A needy urge worked through her little fingers, wanting for all the world to grab the other girl in handfuls. The strain in her diaper grew to aching. The funny feeling in her tummy was stronger than ever. Maya bit down on the nipple of her binky, stifling a gasp. It wasn’t like her to have dirty thoughts. She’d left all that behind! And yet... Maya started to sob. “Baby?” Mommy looked in the rear vision mirror, powerless to do anything until they stopped. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Strange the way things change over time. When she pretended to be a man, Maya never cried. Crying was a bad thing. But now she was a little girl, she cried all the time! Whether she spilled food, or knocked over blocks, or her favorite romper was in the laundry, there was always a fresh supply of tears waiting to spring forth. Good thing Mummy was always there. But she couldn’t talk about this. It was just too embarrassing! So, Maya lied. “Nothing.” “Are you sure it’s nothing?” Mommy asked. It was common for littles to cry over the smallest things, even things so small they didn’t know what had upset them. But this was not one of those times. Mommy probably knew, because Mommies read minds. Maya nodded, and suckled on her fingers absently. She imagined for a moment that they were Natalie’s fingers, and reeled. Why wouldn’t these naughty thoughts leave her alone? “Nothing, huh.” Mommy wasn’t buying it. Poo! “I heard there was a new girl in kindy today,” she said. “And that she’s not kicking a fuss like other babies do.” How did she know? Natalie seemed a custom fit for the Diaper Dimension, like she was born to be a baby and nothing else! That’s why she was happy coming to kindergarten instead of throwing a tantrum. She’d even picked a favorite stuffie! Maya said nothing. She was too overcome by the feeling between her legs. Without even thinking she squeezed them together, closing the wet padding around her clitty. And then she started to rock, humming involuntarily. The butterflies beat their wings harder than ever! “Is she nice?” Mommy asked. If she were looking, Maya might have noticed a cheeky smirk in the rear view mirror. She couldn’t hide things from Mommy, even if she tried. The little girl gasped, “I don’t know..." Suddenly she was too far gone. Maya’s anxieties fell by the wayside, along with the rest of the world. Her eyes rolled back as she gave over to the sensation in her diaper. The soggy cotton was heaven around her clitty, which stood taller than ever, screaming for touch. And touch it she did with thighs fixed shut, bucking in her booster seat as she grunted, nurturing the wave building inside her. Nothing was this good, even in the old dimension. How was it that she missed sex that much when grinding her wet diaper was so much better? Mommy said nothing, and watched from the front seat without judgement. Baby girls needed relief, she supposed. They had their urges - adult urges. Littles were fully grown, and capable of a certain consent, even if they weren't as mature as they believed. Though it wasn’t Mommy’s place to scratch that itch. Maya, it seemed, could do that on her own. A new liquid soaked the seat of Maya’s diaper, draining her of energy and leaving her bask in the cool afterglow. She reveled in the release, and arched against her restraints. Then the little girl slumped in her booster seat, testing the hold of the straps. She smiled, groggy eyed, somewhere between content and sleep. “Perhaps,” Mommy said coolly, as though nothing had happened, “we should invite her for a playdate. Don’t you think that would be fun?” It would be fun, and terrifying; though Maya didn’t have it in her to think that far ahead, or even to think at all. Her whole body was swimming in a haze that lulled her gently from consciousness. To be continued...

Chapter Six PERSONAL LOG: Stardate 44318.2 The Alpha Quadrant is a big place - approximately thirteen thousand lightyears from one side to the other - but sometimes even that isn’t big enough. I’d just returned to quarters after a status briefing when I found a message (flagged ‘personal’) waiting on the comms. A small part of me dared to hope it was from a certain betazoid, but what were the chances. Since boarding Star Base 12 she was all I could think about; her smile, her touch, the taste of her skin - the gentle sing-song hush over her voice that made me so, so small. With one message I could have that again... maybe. The message wasn’t from Artemis. It was from my Mom. “Hi, sweetie! Guess who happened to be in the system? I know you’ll likely be on the clock when you get this message, but when you’re finished you should pay a visit. Dan and I are on base, staying in the civilian suites. We’d love to see you. Toodles!” Dan being my mother’s lover. Nice enough guy, but hard for me to get close to - then again so was my Mom, unless you were a certain kind of person. Children, even her own, were never that kind of person. Still, I owed her an appearance. Starfleet life meant being away from home this Christmas and the next. And, complex feelings aside, I cared about her. Mom and Dan had a suite on the base’s outer ring - a room with a view, overlooking the system. The door was set to open automatically on my arrival, so I entered. Immediately I was taken by the smell of fruit, something citrusy I couldn’t put my finger on. “Sally! You made it!” I was still in uniform, so didn’t leap out of my skin when I saw them gathered around the table. However, there was a third person there, and when I saw her my blood turned to ice. “We were beginning to think you weren’t going to make it,” Dan said. What was she doing here? The blue skinned woman looked up to me with a gentle smile, the same I’d fallen for so long ago. She then beamed wider, breaking the vertical crease over her features, and flashed every shining tooth. So beautiful, and yet... “Maedra!” She stood and pulled out the chair next to her. “Please, sit, my love,” she said, just like old times. Except these weren’t old times - not that I was about to say so with Mom and Dan watching. * * * * “You didn’t tell them.” It wasn’t a question - just a fact. The last I saw Maedra we were in San Francisco, Starfleet Academy, receiving honors; mine in engineering, hers in counselling. It seemed only yesterday that we were freshmen running into each other outside the Bolian Embassy, and an eternity since parting ways. ‘A break,’ we’d decided, because it’s healthy for couples to spend time apart, right? That’s when I signed on for a stint on the Hyacinth. What better place for an ensign to find herself than out in the stars? Maedra understood - or at least she said she did. We sat in the officers mess, which was the closest refuge after an awkward dinner. I stared into my tea, the only thing I could get my stomach around. The last thing I wanted was this conversation. Her blue fingers reached across the table and slivered between mine. “I’ve missed you,” she said. I looked up and fought a smile. “I’ve missed you too.” It wasn’t a lie. Her mouth hung open. ‘I love you,’ she didn’t say, and neither did I. Sure, the feeling was there, but putting it into words… Maedra sighed. “What happened, Sally?” Shame burned in my cheeks. Did she really not remember? My thoughts cast back to our apartment on the bay, who can say when? It was the afternoon, and I was alone - Maedra had an exam, and plans to spend time with classmates after. So, it was up to me to entertain myself… ...and the perfect chance to indulge. I changed the holovid from melodramas to cartoons, and gathered Gregory, my plush parrot, from the chair in the bedroom. Maedra didn’t approve of childish ‘decorations’, even if she claimed to understand on an intellectual level. ‘It’s the product of insecure attachment during adolescence,’ she reasoned. Even if that were true, you’d think she’d accept the reality of that need. Instead she pushed a goal. ‘By nurturing your emotional growth you’ll soon be able to put away childish things and become an actualized adult.’ Giving up Gregory? I didn’t like the sound of that. But I put up with it, because I loved her, and soft toys were a very minor part of my life; besides, the good times outnumbered the bad. She listened when I needed to be heard, and I made her laugh. And then there was the sex... I don’t know what made that day different. As soon as Maedra was gone a need welled in my chest. Cartoons on the holovid, Gregory in my arms, and one other thing. I bit my lip while considering the replicator, and fought to push out the command. ‘Baby pacifier, blue, size altered for an adult mouth.’ The object materialized on the plate, and I was in awe. Soft toys were one thing, but sucking on a plastic nipple like a baby was another. Don’t ask me why I wanted it so much - Maedra would have theories if she ever found out - but the feelings were too large for me to question. A diaper would have been perfect, I thought, but I wasn’t game. That was as far as I was willing to experiment, lest I was discovered. Maedra wouldn’t be home until late, but regardless, the risk was too great. Next thing I knew I was on the floor, sprawled on top of a mountain of pillows under a blanket, Gregory in my arms, and a pacifier firmly in my mouth. The action was automatic; my body had never forgotten that basic function. My whole body relaxed around it. It was perfect. I was small, I was happy, and most of all I was safe. Curled up in a makeshift bundle I was as close to a feeling I’d chased without knowing since childhood. I breathed a sigh of relief, and was lost, deeper and deeper into the fantasy. Soon, I slept, and I slept, and I slept. When I woke it was to Maedra standing at the doorway of the living room. My mouth hung open, overcome with a feeling of emptiness. It wasn’t until I saw the pacifier hanging from Maedra’s finger that realization snapped. I’ll never forget the look on her face - not angry, or upset; no, it was worse than that. She shook her head. ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she asked. ‘Sally, I… what is this? My love, you know this isn’t normal.’ My eyes cast to the floor. Shame burned down my cheeks in fat tears, but I held back sobbing. Maedra said nothing; not when I had so little control. She wanted an ‘adult’ conversation, and I was anything but. ‘Infantile regression’, she called it - a ‘problem’ to be ‘fixed’. How was I supposed to argue with that? She was an expert, a Starfleet counselor, and I was… I don’t know. Broken? In the star base mess hall my mouth hung open. I wanted to say something, anything, but no words were forthcoming. To be continued...

What a wonderful way to start a day ❤️

Oh, Bailey. It's just a matter of time. ❤️ Thanks, @KyleAB! That was a good read, and can't wait for more!

Mwahahaha! How delightfully evil!

Chapter Five The communicator beeped under the heap of my uniform. “P’Rsett to Morris.” I blinked the sleep from my eyes, and nuzzled into the warmth at my back. If I was still dreaming, I didn’t want it to end. Nothing could pry me from the heavenly embrace that I’d search out for so long. “P’Rsett to Morris! Sally, where the hell are you?” … Except that. I darted from the bed and rifled through my belongings, only vaguely aware of the wet, sagging diaper dragging my behind. A pang of guilt stirred as Artemis rose with me. It would be better if she slept. “Morris here,” I said. “Um, hi, P’Rsett.” Ensign P’Rsett was one of the ship’s science officers, a caitian, stationed on the bridge. She was also my bunkmate, and was well aware of who never came back to their quarters. The squishy garment felt cold between my legs - no longer exciting, but shameful. How could I explain being infantilized by a passenger? “Hi, yourself,” P’Rsett said. “Lieutenant Grul is on the warpath. You’re twenty minutes late for your shift!” Artemis placed a hand on her chest, feigning guilt. That was easy for her; she wasn’t the one facing a reprimand, particularly one from a grouch like Grul. He was a tellarite - not a people known for their patience and understanding. I winced. “Be right there. Morris out.” The dam wall burst, and suddenly I was in tears - the same level of fat, ugly tears that were spilling out the night before. I was a Starfleet officer! Starfleet officers didn’t pretend to be babies, let alone piss themselves! Except I was still a little girl, and in big trouble. Maybe Ensign Morris would have kept her composure, but fresh out of Mama’s arms Little Sally still lingered. I wasn’t ready to be a grown up and face the universe. It was too big! I cried, and I cried, until finally the arms of the loving betazoid lifted me from the floor. She hushed and cooed, and stroked my back until I settled in her shoulder. One hand supported my weight, pressing the clammy diaper against my skin. God, how embarrassing! “Now quite ready to be a big girl, huh?” She knew. Of course she knew; empathic powers and all. Artemis pulled away and brushed the tears from my eyes. Her smile made it easier. At least she believed that everything would be alright. I wish I had that confidence. “Be gentle stepping back into your grown up shoes,” she said. “Tell you what. You go have a sonic shower, and I’ll get you a raktajino. I bet you like it extra sweet.” She was right, but... I didn’t have time for either of those things. The look in her eyes, warm as it was, said that she was not in the mood for arguing; and how could I argue with her? “Mama knows best,” she said. * * * * I didn’t see Artemis for the rest of the journey, only in part by choice. For the rest you could thank Lieutenant Grul assigning extra shifts and overtime to my roster. Everything from panel glitches to loose power couplings was, by his decree, a ‘Morris problem’. Not that I was bothered. The work was just busy enough to keep my mind from how good it felt to share myself - to have a Ma- No. Not going down that road. I was a Starfleet officer, and had work to do. A week later we arrived at Star Trek twelve. The Hyacinth’s crew, myself included, stood in a row to thank passengers as they disembarked. Butterflies churned in my stomach with the prospect of facing her again. Artemis, Mama; sad as it sounds, I thought about her every idle moment - the night we shared a snapshot of contentment I never thought I’d live to experience. Now it was like a drug I’d spend the rest of my life chasing. Next to it, everything was a disappointment. I was shaking. The cool, Starfleet exterior hissed against the burning desire of a little girl that just wouldn’t grow up; but so long as my superiors were watching, the officer won out. That confidence shook the moment Artemis emerged from the hatch. She was different to when I saw her last - clothed - but every bit as beautiful, with her scarlet curls wrapped in an updo, and with a peach colored gown cascading down her shape. And yes, her breasts were just as inviting, more as they threatened to spill from her plunging neckline. Warmth flooded my cheeks in a cocktail of arousal and shame. The smart choice would have been to look away, but how could I? “Mouth closed, ensign,” said Lieutenant Grul. Crap! Artemis scanned the line, and grinned when she saw me. I thought she would have been mad, but she appeared anything but. I cast my head down; who knows how small I might become with a single look. She guided my arms and took my hands in hers. ‘Just a betazoid being friendly,’ I thought, mentally explaining it to my superior officers. Artemis squeezed. A tremor shot through my knees. The Starfleet officer held her balance. “I want to thank you for sharing yourself with me,” she said. And I would again, first chance I got. “It was a pleasure to have you aboard, ma’am,” I said. ‘Take me with you, Mama,’ I didn’t say. This might be the last time I ever saw her, but I would dream about her forever - I knew it. God, what a stupid thought. I doubt it meant to her what it did to me. I was fixating because I was desperate, because I was lonely, because I was- She placed a data chip in my hand, and leaned in to plant a kiss on my cheek. Her lips were just as soft as the first time they touched my skin, and I was in rapture. “Write me,” she said, “and let me know when you’re next on leave.” My heart stopped cold. She couldn’t mean that; but before I could ask she was on her way to her next destination. I turned to Lieutenant Grul, who did not approve. Then again, he didn’t approve of much. * * * * “You fucked that betazoid woman,” said P’Rsett. I damn near choked on my drink. “We agreed not to talk about it,” I said. “You think I didn’t see your face while she disembarked? A fling is one thing, but girl, you’ve got it bad.” So much for subtlety. Even if she did give me her contact information, nothing would come of it - not in a million years. “I didn’t know you were into cougars,” she said. “Well, you’d know all about that.” P’Rsett’s whiskers curled as she smiled. “That’s an earth cat, right? You say that because we caitians look like earth cats. Clever!” I shrugged, and stared into my synthale. “It’s nothing,” I said. “I just forgot how good it could feel, you know? Without the resentment, or the distance..." Or to be seen at all, I didn’t say. What were the chances of something like that happening a second time? I rolled the data chip in my hand. Maybe better than I hoped. To be continued...

Thank you! Fingers crossed that I get some more spare time. Heh. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And honestly, I'm glad I waited to write this one instead of forcing it out. I wasn't sure of the direction, but sometimes it takes a while. That and it's mainly written because quarantine gave me the time.

Chapter Four I’ve always loved the idea of diapers; the idea of them, less so the reality. My first adult diaper lacked the charge I’d invested in fantasy. The plastic caused me to sweat, and though soft the drooping seat offered no security. Alone in my quarters it meant nothing. I was an adult woman wearing incontinence protection, and nothing more. This was different. With deft fingers and a sixth sense for stimulation Artemis rocked me to my foundations. She stood over me, her robe hanging half open, exposing a bare hip and half a breast. She was more substantial than any dream I’d projected before; more intense, more arousing. Perhaps because for the first time I’d revealed myself to someone, and she embraced it! She unfurled the crinkling garment, never once breaking our stare. I gulped around the pacifier, too long exhausted to put up a front of resistance. The voice in my head saying such things were unbecoming of a Starfleet officer were barely a thought. I wanted this; the exposure, the vulnerability, the tender, loving touch - all of it. Artemis. Mama. Please. Your little girl needs a change. “Come on, baby girl. Legs up.” I did as told, and with one hand she snatched my limbs and lifted my bottom from the bed. Her strength was incredible! If I didn’t feel so small and helpless before I certainly did at that moment. Artemis lay the diaper flat beneath me, and set me down on the soft, cotton lining. An electric shiver ran along my skin as she reached for an object nearby and brought a gentle rain of sweet smelling powder between my legs. I giggled and kicked, clutching to the stuffed toy in my arms. “Such a good girl,” she sang, humming a melody as she attended me. Guiding my legs apart the beautiful betazoid folded the diaper between them, and pulled the tabs taut around my hips. She snapped another two pairs in place until I was snug in the garment’s hold. Artemis smiled. “There. All dressed!” She sat beside me, and guided me upright into her arms. The empty seat of my diaper puffed a white cloud as I sat on it, pushing the air out. I giggled, and I blushed, helpless under this woman’s watch. And that’s when I realized; the diapers, the baby clothes, the toys and the pacifiers meant nothing by themselves. Like strange matter in the distant cosmos they needed to be perceived by another to live to its potential. The little girl in me was a conduit; a means of connecting to another human being - something to be shared, idle on its own. That was why the fantasy fell short… until now. My body was light as a feather, and with a burst of energy rarely experienced I bounced into Artemis’ lap. My legs straddled her, my arms clung to her neck, and I whined needily through the pacifier. Fresh tears ran down my cheeks, but they were happy tears - tears of release. Unbecoming of an officer or not, we’d gone too far to turn back. Shame and reason could wait another hour until concluding our exploration of one another. “Oh! Is someone feeling little?” I nodded. Yes. God, yes. So small. So warm. So safe. What a marvellous gift to be blessed with. Artemis cooed and stroked the back of my neck. “Let’s have a cuddle, little one,” she said. “There’s so much more for me to show you.” With a smile that could melt any heart she leaned back, lifted my chin so that she had a clear view of my expression, and pulled the robe open. I couldn’t look away. Her heavy, naked breasts hung from her chest, full to the point of bursting. Artemis’ skin was creamy like milk, which I hoped against hope filled the fatty mountains she carried. One word crossed my mind. “Thirsty,” I mumbled through the pacifier. My eyes did not wander from the engorged nipples that probably fed more lips than I could count. Her large, brown areolas were hypnotic. I couldn’t pull away, even if I wanted to. So entranced was I that I was barely aware that Artemis moved my body so that I was laid across her. The swollen nipple begged me closer, and I listened. “Come on, sweetheart. Time for din dins.” She pulled the paci from my lips, and for a painful second there was nothing to fill them; though the need was quickly satisfied when I fell into her chest, devoured her flesh, and suckled on her ample tit. God, she was warm, and she was soft, and she was everything I ever wanted, like I was born to hang on her breast. I needed it, and I kneaded it, latching on with both hands in my attempt to inhale the thing whole. Artemis laughed. “Someone’s a hungry baby,” she teased. That was me - I was the baby; this was my place, where I belonged. This was how babies eat, being fed by their Mama. I was just fulfilling my place in the natural order... not that I was thinking about it all that hard. Every thought trickled from my ears, leaving only the simplicity of the act. Baby and Mama, Mama and baby. All that existed was her and that melodious voice that lulled me deeper into contentment. I couldn’t dream of anything better. Just then something sweet hit my tongue. I startled, not quite realizing what it was. A stream trickled into my mouth, and before I could gulp it down Mama was stroking my hair and hushing me. “Let it happen, baby,” she said, almost in a whisper. So I did. I relented to this most childish act, and it was heaven. I’d never had a meal so satisfying since... long before I could remember. It was more than just milk, it was a piece of her that filled my belly. If love itself could take physical form, I was sure this was it. I pulled as close as I could - closer, even - and Mama held firm. No doubt she could feel everything I could; delight and peace the likes of which I’d never known. How could anything feel so good? My body relaxed so much that the seat of my diaper was soon flooded. I wasn’t aware of it at first; too far gone in the closeness with my surrogate mother to realize. It wasn’t until the weight of the garment pulled down and the last trickle ran down my backside that I knew; I’d wet myself. I pulled away from the nipple and blinked. “Is everything alright, little one?” Perhaps I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t. I looked down through the haze of euphoria and shifted my legs. The padding between then was decidedly more dense. “Mama,” I gasped, “I... I fink I had a accident..." Ensign Morris would have been beside herself, but she was gone for the night. Artemis reached down and pressed the seat of my diaper. If I didn’t know it before, I knew it then. There was no mistaking the soggy padding against my skin - soaked all the way through. “Well that’s okay,” she said. “You’re only a little baby, and babies can’t control themselves, right?” She was right. I nodded dumbly. “Should we get you changed?” “Um..." Artemis tilted her head. “What is it, little one?” Words struggled to climb to my tongue, but I had them, somewhere. It just took a little more time when I was small. “Can I, um, stay wet a liddle while longer, peas?” Don’t ask me why I wanted to stay in a wet diaper. I could explain that as much as anything else. Maybe I’d become attached to what I was wearing. Maybe the warmth felt nice. Maybe, I don’t know, I didn’t want to break the rhythm of what we shared; or maybe it was nice to be wet and know that things were still okay. So long as I was with Mama, everything was okay, even if we’d only known each other for an hour. I pressed my head into her breast, hungry for more milk. If it was the last thing I ever drank I would die happy. Artemis stroked my hair and smiled. “Alright, honey. But just until bedtime, okay?” I hummed, and continued to nurse. Forget Risa. This was my dream come true. To be continued...

Absolutely agreed, 1000%

A commission piece from way back when. I hope y'all enjoy! * * * * From: Kaitlyn.Walsh@[REDACTED] Received: Yesterday, 10:30pm Subject: Re: Your Dirty Little Secret Hello William, It must be difficult to imagine that you’d receive an email like this from me, your office rival, but given the circumstances how could I resist? After all, it’s not everyday that a woman climbing the corporate ladder comes across such a juicy tidbit; and believe me I intend to exploit it for everything it’s worth. What am I talking about? Oh, I’m sure you already have some idea. I’ll bet your heart is racing as you wonder, “how did she find out?” You thought you’d unplugged all the security cameras that night, but I’m here to tell you, William, that no, you didn’t; and now I’ve seen everything. I saw you, William. I know that underneath that Armani suit your Daddy bought for you is a shy little boy who likes to wet his diapers. Honestly, I didn’t think you were the type; not until the guard and I watched your hand snake down the band of your disposable nappy, lean back in your office chair and grab for your pathetic cock, all the while moaning behind a pacifier. Don’t worry about Lawrence, the guard. He won’t tell a soul. All he cares about is keeping his job. He would never dream about trying to blackmail an executive who could bully him into the unemployment line before you could whimper for Daddy. I promised that he could stay, meaning that if you move against him you’ll have me to contend with; that prospect already has you shaking in your baby booties, I’m sure. When did it all begin, William? I can imagine you as a young teen stealing diapers whenever you got the chance, then slipping them on under your clothes. Maybe you deliberately wet the bed so that your mother and father would force you to wear them. The act left you humiliated, but deep down you knew you couldn’t stop; the crinkle of the plastic, the cotton lining rubbing against your special area, all of it was too much to resist. The fantasy of being a sweet little baby nursing at your mother’s ample tit made you so hard you couldn’t help but touch yourself; and so you were cumming and cumming, night after night. Does that sound familiar at all? William, you really are a dirty, dirty little boy. That wasn’t all I discovered. Imagine my surprise when I went down to the accounting department and found a number of ambiguous receipts charged to the company; imagine my surprise when I discovered that the ‘Madison Long Massage Co.’ was the cover name for a local mistress who was very happy to do away with client discretion for just the right price. Oh, the stories that she told. Did you like it when she spanked your tushy, making it all sore and red? Did you like it when you suckled the milk from her breasts until it dribbled down your chin? (I didn’t know one could induce lactation outside of pregnancy, but you live and learn.) Did you like it when she forced you on your hands and knees, and made you crawl around the room? Did you like it when she teased you, and pressed her high heel into your diapered crotch until the pressure mounted and you finally wet yourself? Of course you did, you weak little baby. The question now is, what does one do with this piece of information? One option, of course, is to sweep the whole matter under the rug, to respect the private lives and lusts of colleagues, and to go about our business; but then again, you were also the one who accused me of sleeping my way to the top, and spread office gossip that kept me from getting that promotion I’d been working for. Now you have my office, and my paycheck, and I had nothing; until now. I’m sure we can use our collective imaginations, and apply this leverage creatively. What’s say we begin with that corner office? It’s now mine. Annual use of the company jet? Mine. Corporate expense account? So very mine. These terms are highly agreeable, don’t you think? Imagine what might happen if you and I weren’t on the same page. If you and I were to have some sort of disagreement; why, I might be so upset that my finger slips and presses the “forward” button in my email, sending video evidence of your indiscretions to everyone in the building, from data entry to the CEO. I know the idea turns you on, but just think of what that would do to your career. Everyone would look to your CV, and they wouldn’t remember the closer on the Abercrombie deal; they’d remember the adult baby sitting in his wee, flailing his arms and calling out for Mommy. People will mention your name and laugh. They’ll make fun of your soppy backside until the only anonymity you can buy yourself will be working at a chain food outlet on the other side of the country. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Well, it certainly does to me, and deep down I know it does to you too, dirty baby boy. Either way it’s a win-win. If I were you I’d give in to my demands. That way you could keep your status and keep being a big baby, and nobody save us would be any the wiser. And, who knows? Maybe I’ll even press my own heel into your diapers when nobody’s looking; that’s the kind of humiliation you like, isn’t it? I eagerly await your reply. See you on Monday. Sincerely, Kaitlyn Walsh PS. We’re going to have so much fun together. We should set up a changing table in the private bathroom for extra shenanigans.

I loved every bit of this. Gosh, you have a fun imagination!

GASP! A Littledom story!?

For those of us who are able to push shame out of the way, I think so! The only people I've known who are sadder when embracing their ABDL selves are those who've not been able to find external validation from any source. I think that's the second half of self-acceptance; is finding a community who embrace the shape of your happiness, and respect the you who you need to be.

Oh, my heart! Sophie, you're making me feel feelings!

I have so many feelings as I read this, all of them warm. It's so hard to be a little girl in your heart, and it's so hard to trust and be honest when you're used to things being hard. Thank you, Sophie. I look forward to more. ❤️

I am too. I've been wanting to do the sequel for a while. The first part was me letting some sads out, but I'm also a sucker for a happy ending. I'm glad I could help. I write trans characters into nearly everything I do, so don't worry.

Michael should have been on top of the world. After all, he’d done what so few littles had ever accomplished; escaped the clutches of an Amazon, and lived to tell the tale. Yet the more he thought about it the more he spiraled into depression, until he was dragging himself through the working week, and sleeping through the weekends. During his lunch hour he sat in the park, as per usual, but couldn’t bring himself to look at the building across the lake. To do so was like torture; watching little boys go in, and little girls come out. It was the ones who smiled that broke his heart. Why couldn’t it be him? Maybe, he thought, if he lingered outside, tried to peek in the window… Then he heard his Mom - the little woman who’d given birth to him - screaming from the back of his memory. “Are you insane? Do you know what Amazons do to women?” The tone of her voice made him small, afraid, like nothing else could. “You’re lucky to be a boy,” she said. “Male littles have a chance to survive in this world. I won’t let you throw that away.” Michael was twelve with his Mom was ‘adopted’. Two years later his Dad was put in diapers as well, landing him in a group home for underage littles too young for Amazon ‘care’. Being an adult, ‘surviving’ this world, was all he had left of his parents. How could he just give that up? He leaned forward on the bench, head in hands, when a voice roused him. “Excuse me. May I sit here?” To his surprise the voice belonged to an Amazon, easily three times his height. She smiled at Michael with ruby red lips, almost as bright as her hair. Her dress was powder blue and patterned with summer flowers. Everything about her seemed friendly and inviting, but when it came to Amazons looks were often deceiving. “It’s a free country,” he said; whether it was true was another thing entirely. She smoothed out her dress and lowered herself demurely onto the seat. Michael couldn’t help but notice her in profile. The woman was larger than the other Amazons, but that extra mass made room for extra warmth. Getting lost in skin so soft would have been a dream for some. She noticed him, and he looked away. Even looking at an Amazon was a dangerous game. “Nice day,” she chirped. Micheal shrugged. “My name is Beth,” she said. He forced a smile at her. “Hi.” That was all he would give her. Starve the Amazon of attention, and she would lose interest - or so went the idea. Beth craned her neck to peer over the lake, and pursed her lips. “Interesting view you have here..." Micheal tensed. “I like to feed the ducks,” he lied. “They have one of those ‘feminization centres’ across the road,” Beth remarked. “Strange how there are no ‘masculinization centres’, don’t you think? That Amazons would rather make little boys into little girls rather than the other way around.” Michael shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it.” She was teasing him, he was sure of it; searching for the cracks in his exterior. Perhaps he should run, but what would stop the great, towering woman from giving chase? He’d never escape on tiny little legs. Luck served him once, but it might not again. Beth shrugged. “Maybe there’s something special about being a little girl,” she said. “A different kind of love, a unique kind of attention..." “Lady, you’re not putting me in diapers, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he snapped. She blinked with a start. “No? Then what if I put your hair in ribbons and let you play with a dolly instead?” There was no harshness to her tone, no judgement, but the words still cut to the core. “Forget it,” he said, and slid down from the bench. He had to get as far from her as possible. What she said next stopped him in his tracks. “Are you really going to be happy if you go home now?” Ice ran through his veins. Leaving meant another lonely night in bed, hiding his tears. With long but slow strides Beth came up beside him and knelt down in the grass. She took the man’s tiny hand in hers, and stroked it gently. “I’ve been watching you,” she said. “You must be in so much pain. Imagine, having a little girl locked inside of you; never seen, never touched." His muscles wound tight. Fists curled into balls of despair. It was everything he could do to hold the tears back. “You... you can’t..." “I only want to give that little girl the love she deserves,” she said. “That’s all any Amazon wants, though we sometimes have a strange way of showing it. We don’t just see your tiny bodies, but little hearts aching the be nurtured, like yours.” Images and sensations spilled through his mind; the dresses, the ribbons, the dolls. Sure, he still liked his robots and trucks, but it was the absence of the things he wasn’t allowed that hurt the most. To have that, and to be acknowledged, was more than he could bear. He shook his head. “No..." Beth tilted her head. “No?” “No,” he said again with conviction. Even if it was hard, he had to be a man. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice,” Beth said. “I’ve been watching you for some time, and it just won’t do for you to beat yourself up another day. We’re taking you to the Gender Center across the street, but it would be much better if you chose this yourself.” He winced, and looked away. Then the realization dawned on him. “You... you’ve been watching me?” Beth smiled. “Even since my friend Marie told me about you,” she explained. “She was so heartbroken not to have a little boy of her own. But the more we talked about it, the more we realized we couldn’t leave a desperate little alone, and I certainly wouldn’t mind a darling daughter, no matter how she was born.” The word struck like a hammer. ‘Daughter’. It was all he’d ever wanted. Ugly tears came spilling from his cheeks, and wouldn’t stop. Beth stood, and held his hand tight. “Come on. Let’s get you straightened out, sweet girl.” Michael followed, despite his better judgement. Then again, this was a long time coming. * * * * The starting process was faster than Michael could have imagined. No sooner than he and Beth were in the door than it seemed he was being escorted into another room. As the nurse scooped him up Beth grew further and further away. He whined through tears. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she called. “Mommy will be watching from the next room, okay?” ‘Mommy,’ she said; that’s what she was now. It wasn’t a word he’d used since being an actual child. To give it to someone at this stage in his life felt heavy. Michael fought to sit still while the nurse stripped the layers of his clothing. He seemed nice enough, but being naked in front of another man, especially an Amazon, was more than he could handle. First went the jacket and tie, then his shoes and socks. The nurse wrenched his trousers down, and popped up the buttons of his shirt, leaving Michael in his jockey shorts. They two were removed from him, leaving the hairy little man naked in the examining room. The nurse smiled at him, and patted him on the bottom in a way that was supposed to be assuring. “It’s alright, little one,” he cooed. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. I just need you to spread your arms and stand still for a few moments.” He did as he was told, and tensed as he revealed himself. The room was cozy, but Michael was unaccustomed to air blowing over his body. Then he stopped to realize that he would not be Michael for very much longer. It was a small relief, even if the alternative scared the life out of him. A wide, red beam projected from the eye of a machine ran down the length of his body while another did the same from behind. Michael giggled and fidgeted as it roamed, and only after a moment did he realize that it singed away every hair on his body from the face down. When it was done he clasped his body, ran his hands down his chest, arms and legs, as well as his crotch, and then at last his face. All were completely smooth; smoother than he ever remembered them being. Smooth like... The nurse attended him with a blanket and lifted the naked little into his arms. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Micheal shook his head. His skin felt amazing, and he couldn’t keep his hands off himself. “For this next part I need you to be a brave little girl. Can you do that for me?” He looked at the nearby window, and true to her word Beth was on the other side, with Michael’s wallet sitting open. She scanned the contents of a clipboard and copied details from Michael’s now-former identification. It was official, he thought; there was no escaping adoption this time. The nurse sat him down and ran an alcohol pad across the base of Michael’s penis. The little squirmed. He was as hard as a rock, and couldn’t hide the fact. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the Nurse said, and produced a small needle. “I know this looks scary, but this is going to help you get rid of those yucky boy feelings. Can you be strong for me, princess?” Anxiety twisted in his gut, but Michael nodded. To resist would have meant restraints, or worse. If he was going to have this life, he wanted it to be as simple as possible. He didn’t so much as feel the needle as he did its effects. Almost right away he became soft, perhaps even softer than he’d ever been. What had the nurse given him? “Some little girls get new princess parts on their third or fourth visit,” the nurse explained, “but most are happy to keep their outties, so long as they don’t get in the way. Doesn’t that feel better already?” Michael shivered. Though he hated to admit it, he loved feeling so vulnerable. Being called ‘princess’ was even better, and made his heart leap. The nurse reached for a small jar, and removed the cap. “This part is a bit itchy,” he explained, “but it’ll make you feel so nice. Boy skin is so rough and flaky. This will make you soft, like littles are supposed to be.” He was right; the jelly itched like nothing else. Michael tried to scratch, but his hands were guided back by the overly patient nurse. Fortunately it didn’t last for very long. When the jelly had done its job the nurse took some wipes and ran it down every corner of Michael’s body. With it he removed dark layers caked with dirt, revealing clean fatty flesh beneath. “It’s... it just like-” “A baby’s?” the nurse laughed. “Yes, little one. That’s the idea.” Michael’s hands combed over his body, every inch from head to toe. He couldn’t believe it, or the way his skin was so thirsty for touch and sensation. Was this what it was to be a little girl? “Now it’s time for your first diaper,” the nurse said, “but I guess we should let your Mommy have that honor.” “Mommy,” he echoed. That’s what Beth was now, he supposed. The word tasted funny in his mouth, but he may as well use it. The door opened, and through it entered the Amazon to whom he now belonged. She beamed with pride, and leaned down to where the soon-to-be-former-boy was sat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, enough that Michael himself melted. How was it possible that someone he’d just met loved him so much? “It’s official,” she said. “You’re my baby girl. All we need is to give you a name.” “Would you care to diaper your little one, ma’am?” the nurse asked. She practically jumped for joy, and reached for a fresh garment from a nearby pile. Grabbing the little by both feet she lifted Michael’s tush, and set it down on the paddling. She pried his legs apart, then liberally applied the powder. After that set to work on the tapes. “Mommy?” Michael asked, making her heart skip a beat. “Yes, little one?” The little’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. “Can... can my name be Alicia?” Beth started with a blink, and smiled even brighter. “Yes, of course, little one! That’s who you’ll be from now on. My beautiful daughter, Alicia.” She lifted the baby into her arms, supporting her padded behind with one hand and stroking the girl’s back with the other. Beth’s skin was just like the little had imagined; warm and soft, like home. Thus, on that day, little Alicia was born. * * * * After three months in Mommy Beth’s care, Alicia’s old life seemed like a bad dream. No more suits, no more ties, no more sitting in cubicles and reciting the company motto; in their place were bright colors - green, orange and purple - soft toys, catchy songs, and most important of all, the love of a Mommy who only cared about her happiness. Sure, the diapers were a bit much, but after a while Alicia stopped thinking about it. They were just a part of life. Mommy’s friend Maria was visiting that day. She was the same Amazon who once tried to claim ‘Michael’ as her own. She considered the little, sitting in her high chair while pulling apart a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Once the little girl wore the veneer of adult, but was now getting muck everywhere without a care in the world. “She really does seem happier as a girl,” Maria sighed. Beth sat beside the high chair, snatched the little girl’s attention, and wiped her cheeks with a cheery smile. “That’s because it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it, little one?” Alicia nodded with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, and chewed loudly on her bread. She beamed and kicked happily when her Mummy stood again, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. Those kisses spread over the little girl’s body with a warmth and affection she was fast getting used to. Later that day, after Alicia was changed into a clean diaper and pinafore dress, Beth took her for a walk around the suburbs. She loaded the baby into the stroller, fed her a pacifier, and placed her favorite doll, Cindy, into her ams. The little one kicked idly to show that all was right with the world. It was around nap time when the pair passed by an old grey building with levels short enough for a little to scale. Alicia roused and lifted her head, noticing a bearded little on the top level breathing smoke into the atmosphere. Though it took her a moment to register, the girl recognized the place for what it was. She pulled the pacifier from her lips. “Mommy..." Beth frowned. “You’re not supposed to take that out, sweetheart.” “No, Mommy. It’s important,” the little one said, and pointed to the building. “That used to be my house.” The Amazon paused to consider the building. How cold and uncaring it was; one bedroom ‘apartments’ closer resembling prison cells. To think that littles chose to live like this when they could have a home filled with a mother’s love. Alicia leaned forward in the stroller, pressing against the restraints and waving toward the man peering over the ledge. “Donny! Donny, it’s me!” The scruffy little, still dressed in his bathrobe and an old t-shirt, lowered his cigarette and turned at the sound of his voice. There was no recognition at first, but then it clicked. Could it have been... “It’s me!” Alicia cried. “I found my Mommy!” she explained. “I’m happy now!” In the world of littles, ‘finding a Mommy’ was not an ending ever dreamed about, nor was it considered a happy one. Yet to look on the little girl’s face Donny couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. “Good for you, my dude!” he called back. Good that one little could find happiness in this damned world. Beth squatted in front of the stroller and stroked her daughter’s cheek. Every so often she would look upon her with questioning in her eyes. “Are you really happy like this, my darling?” Alicia beamed with tears in her eyes. The emotions were too big for her body to contain. “More than anything, Mommy!” And so it was that an Amazon and little came together and live happily ever after.

Thank you! Thank you! Sorry for the delay! Thank you! Big mood. I would have been very careful in selecting a Mommy, though. At least give me one that gives me laptop access? I got a little distracted, but there is a second (and final) part coming. Thank you for enjoying so far! It was originally going to be, but popularity changed my mind. It's something I want to see more of, too. I love trans stories, I love ABDL stories, but putting them together is hard for me sometimes, and I'm not into 'sissy' stuff.

Hey, folks. Sorry for those following my other stories. I've been snowed in with work lately, and I'll get back to them soon, but I had to churn this out. A sort of a therapy session, I guess. Hope you get something out of it. * * * * Michael flew up the stairs of the apartment complex like a prey animal scurrying for shelter. The building was cold and concrete - a far cry from the colorful playrooms prescribed to ‘adopted’ littles - and that was exactly how they liked it. Well, most littles at any rate. For Michael it was only a place to sleep, and at that moment a refuge. He fumbled for his keys, hoping that he hadn’t lost them during the encounter. That was when the neighboring door opened to reveal Donny, a bearded recluse who reeked of booze and smoke. The aesthetic served him well, and deflected the attention of all Amazons so far; yet he still carried the weight of seeing littles who didn’t share his luck. “My dude,” he said, resting a hand on Michael’s trembling arm. “You look like you could use a drink.” Donny was right. Nothing short of high proof spirits could soothe his nerves. He entered the apartment, ignored the dank smell that saturated it, and collapsed on the sofa - the half without the spring sticking out of it. On any other day Michael appeared the consummate professional, insofar as a little could pass for one. He wore crisp, gray suits with padded shoulders to give him larger stature. Since he was a teenager he did everything he could to cultivate the healthy beard he’d achieved, and at twenty five dyed his hair silver to appear older still. A touch of makeup helped as well; a dab here and there to make his features sharper, less soft, less cute. Yet at present he was disheveled, covered in soil with his shirt hanging out, stains on his trousers, and tie lost to the ether. He leaned back to catch his breath, and happily accepted the glass of a liquid that could strip paint. Donny sat and leaned in, eager for a story. “What happened, man? Was it Amazons?” Michael nodded. “Shit, man. They didn’t follow you, did they?” He shook his head. “So how’d you get away?” Donny asked. It was little more than a whisper. Such was sacred knowledge among littles. The story Michael offered was sparse with details. To speak the whole truth was to shame himself, and all other littles. Nobody knew just where he went on his lunch breaks; to a carefully selected bench in the park with a view of the water, and something else. Past the trees on the other side of the square was a single story building painted in pastel pink. The sign above read in thin cursive letters ‘The Gender Clinic’. Horror stories passed between littles about the goings on in that place, of men made children with their masculinity stripped away. Yet Michael, though he’d never admit it, was fascinated. For half an hour a day he would quietly observe, and turn away when an Amazon dragged a crying ‘sissy’ out in a satin dress and frilly socks. It wasn’t for them that Michael watched. But every so often an event occured that made his heart leap. He’d look to the clinic, and emerging from the entrance would be a little girl clinging to her Mommy or Daddy wearing the biggest smile. Sometimes they cried - not because they were sad, but because the joy was too much for their little bodies. Michael smiled, but it didn’t last. What little would want that? It was shameful. Besides, women, no matter what they were born as, were four times as likely to be ‘adopted’ than men. If only he could stop the nagging in his chest. The story he told Donny started on that park bench where he was minding his own business, eating a tuna melt sandwich, when he caught the eye of a blond haired Amazon with glossy pink lips and breasts spilling out of her tank top. Not Michael’s thing, but they were impossible to avoid. She leaned down to him emphasise them all the more. “You know that make-up is very convincing,” she cooed, “and your hair almost had me fooled. Is that a padded suit? I bet you’re a tiny little thing under all those layers.” Michael did his best to ignore her, and chewed his sandwich with as much aggression as one could muster. Maybe she didn’t get the picture, but he didn’t want to be ‘adopted’. Few littles did. But underneath the veneer of maturity he was sweating bullets. He’d never been noticed before! “You’ve sparked my curiosity,” the Amazon said. “I just have to see what’s underneath!” Before he had the sense to flee the great Amazon arm was around him, and scooped Michael to her side with no effort whatsoever. He struggled, but her grip was like iron. No amount of resistance would free him, at least at this stage. “Please, I don’t want this,” he said, but there was no heart to it. Amazons by nature did not listen to the pleas of littles. Their need to impose ‘care’ was not one based in reason. “You’re a good boy for not swearing,” she cooed. “I know this is hard, but trust me, you’ll be happy and safe in no time at all.” Happy, she said, as though diapers and feedings and wettings and being made helpless wasn’t the most humiliating thing in the world. Other littles told stories to scare one another. Most had nightmares about it, Michael included. It was no use fighting. Even if he could free himself he was claimed. She could go to the authorities and better equipped Amazons would bring him in. She had power over him now, simply because she willed it. She carried him to the park amenities, which like all bathrooms were fitted with a changing station and a diaper dispensary. The Amazon set Michael down on the table, and pulled a strap across his arms and his chest. It didn’t constrict his breathing, but it was secure enough that he couldn’t break free. “Now, let’s get you in a nice, clean diaper,” she sang. The Amazon flicked off his shoes and pulled down his trousers. She stopped to drink in the sight of him, and tickled his nose. “You’re going to be my sweet baby boy. My cute little man!” The world turned ill in his stomach, for more reasons than one. “Wait,” Michael pleaded. “Uh uh uh. Babies don’t speak,” she said, and reached into her carry bag for an inflatable pacifier. It seemed the Amazon had left the house that morning determined to adopt someone. “Just one thing,” Michael said, “and then you can do whatever you want. I promise.” The Amazon huffed, but gave him the chance to speak. “Alright. Then it’s binky in. Okay?” He nodded, and fought against the knot in his stomach. He was about to be sick, but pushed through anyway. “If I’m going to be a baby,” he said, “can I at least… be a baby... girl?” Of all the things she expected a little to say, this the Amazon expected least. She blinked, revisiting the words in her mind to make sure that she heard them correctly. The assuredness in her voice faded. “Why would you want to be a little girl?” Michael winced in shame. “Because… I’m not a man. Not in my heart of hearts. I avoided being a woman so I wouldn’t get adopted but now… now there’s no reason to hold back.” Both Amazon and little shared a pained gaze, both disappointed in the outcome. The large woman frowned more deeply than Michael would have liked, as though she were ready to dole out a spanking. “But I wanted a little boy,” she whined. Michael faced away. “I’m sorry.” She considered the situation for a long moment, not at all liking her options. Michael tensed. His fate was in her hands. Worst case scenario, she would confine him to a life of little boyhood, which for him was the ultimate misery. Finally, and after painstaking thought, the Amazon released the strap and turned her back on him. She made no effort to stop him as Michael pulled up his trousers and reclaimed his shoes. “Go,” she said, daring not face the little, lest he saw her tears. He opened his mouth to say something comforting but thought better of it. This was a rare opportunity - to be victim of an adoption, and then be released. Michael sprinted as fast as his legs could carry, away from the park, and away from a life of babyhood. What feelings of disappointment welled in his chest he never spoke aloud. “So you just… ran!” Donny laughed. “Just like that! While her back was turned!” “Guess I have to trim the beard and recolor my hair,” Michael said, taking a deep swig. He smiled as though victorious, and hoped the alcohol would still what lingered inside.

Institutions are comprised of people, but they are not people. An institution is representative of the collective, not any one individual that makes it up. Good people can still serve a corrupt institution, but that doesn't make the institution worthy of representation, especially when there's a real and unaccounted history of harm involved. That feels like a bit of an oversimplification. It's not just about people being offended and having a problem with you. It's about resistance to generations of oppression that for many of our forebearers was a matter of life and death. It's not just about feeling good about yourself, but taking a stance against that violence and bloody history, honoring those who came before us, and continuing the fight. It's appealing to just say 'the past is the past, let's all get along' but many of our community are still feeling the effect of police violence, and we do them a disservice by not calling that out. Police, as an institution, have failed to take accountability for that. Take this from the New York Times: One of the perpetrators of a violent and bloody raid showed no regret for his actions, and in hindsight even dared to call it a good thing.

Which is why if an LGBTQIA+ cop wants to come to pride they can do so out of uniform, as themselves, and not representing an oppressive institution.

Here's what I always remember when it comes to police and pride. In 1978, 5,000 people marched in Sydney, Australia to commemorate the historic act of resistance that was the Stonewall Riots. This became the first annual Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, which still runs today. They had permission from the city to March, but it was revoked during the time of the event. Police moved in and dispersed the crowd, and although charges were dropped against the 53 arrested and beaten, their names and personal details were published in The Sydney Morning Herald, resulting in many people being outed to families, losing their jobs, and worse. What really jars me is the fact that it was only in 2016 that police, the New South Wales Government and The Sydney Morning Herald bothered to issue an apology for the violence enacted against the 78ers, many years after their own inclusion in the parade. Somehow it fell on us to be inclusive of an institution that enacted violence on us long before they took any sort of accountability. Worst of all, is that we're being asked to include and celebrate an institution that has failed to address the world over it's issues with race, with youth, with disability, and more. And those forms of art are not above criticism or scorn. Just because 'some is' doesn't mean it should be dismissed out of hand. What about the officers who join because they are narcissists with an authoritarian bent? These things don't exist in a vaccuum, and until these issues are confronted and addressed on a fundamental level, especially when the institution has been at the core of the violence against us, I see no reason to celebrate them.

The article in question can be found here. https://www.advocate.com/business/2019/6/03/starbucks-files-dismiss-trans-employees-discrimination-case And having an identity invested in your job is not an intrinsic one, and does not justify investing yourself when it has a history of oppression.

"Cop" is not an identity. It is no more an identity than "radio presenter" or "artist" is mine. Being a cop is not an intrinsic part of an individual's nature. Couple that with the fact that police often favour communities with power and influence, and you've also got a vocation that is prone to corruption. Companies are pandering to us because we have money, not because they care about us as people. There is profit in inclusion, which more often than not is a veneer of inclusion over actually putting the effort it. Take for example a company like Starbucks, that prides itself on celebrating LGBTQIA+ people, yet in a recent court case denied that a trans woman being chronically misgendered and blasted with anti-trans messages while on the clock constituted harrassment. It's nice to see ourselves on a billboard, but having a lesbian couple on a billboard does little for teachers getting fired for their sexuality, kids being driven to suicide by queerphobic bullies, and trans being being able to access medicine, hormones or surgery.