Page 2 of Kit
Carl continued. “You have the body. You have the looks. But it’s about more than that. I know that sounds funny to say in a kink club where monogamy is the last thing on most people’s minds, but I mean it. It’s like you’re not having fun anymore and people can sense it.”
I slammed the book shut. “Fine. I guess I’ll just flip a switch and rework my entire personality.”
“You don’t get it,” he said. “It’s the other way around. Just be you instead of trying too hard to impress the daddies. You don’t need to rework your personality. You just need to show what you already have.”
I frowned. Was that a weird compliment? Did I even have a personality?
For a little who liked to wear diapers, Carl was kind of wise.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I don’t know if I know how.”
He smiled. “Of course you do.” He waved the Santa letter again. “See you at the Christmas party?”
I huffed, shifting in the bean bag until it crunched. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Okay, good. See ya.” He turned abruptly, then shouted, “Daddy! Daddy!”
His daddy looked up from the far couch where he’d been sitting, waiting for Carl to finish playing. “What is it?”
“Look!” He ran up to his boyfriend and shouted. “I wrote a letter to Santa.”
His daddy took him onto his lap and said, “That’s wonderful. Shall we send it to the North Pole together?”
“Yeah!”
I looked down at my lap. What would it feel like to have someone accept me for just me? Fucking fantastic, I was sure.
I stoodin front of my floor to ceiling mirror. First, I tried on the elf costume. It looked great. The striped tights with the tight green shorts certainly accentuated my assets. But I already knew the types of guys who would be coming onto me in that outfit. They would see the sexy elf. They wouldn’t see me.
Next, I tried on my fancy boy shorts with the knee socks and bowtie. Cute, but something about the outfit just wasn’t my mood.
I was a little who was about five years old. I didn’t wear diapers, but I still liked baby things. Stuffies, blocks, crayons and trikes. Sometimes I craved a pacifier. I definitely needed a daddy. I wanted to be pampered by someone who would pick my outfits, wash me, dress me. Eating star-shaped chicken nuggets wasn’t the same when I made them myself.
Bottom line: I was lonely. I wanted a lover who was into me as much as he was into my kink. It wasn’t just about sex. It was about waking up in the morning smelling coffee brewing, knowing at long last I wasn’t alone.
The five-year-old inside me really wanted to wear scuffed jeans with holes in the knees and a little red shirt with a collar.He wanted shoes that lit up when he ran, a big plastic fire engine under one arm, his teddy under the other.
I had all those things. The clothes created little sparks inside me whenever I wore them, and the toys made me feel like a real little boy.
I had avoided all that, though. At the club, I wanted to fit in with the others. I wore rainbow unicorn t-shirts and dinosaur pajama pants and glitter bubble necklaces. At times, I even put on diapers to see what that would get me.
Everything remained shallow—it wasn’t me.
I wanted baby stuff, but I wanted it to be more boyish. At the club, it seemed like everyone was more flamboyant and I had to be that, too.
“Just be you,” Carl had said.
What would it hurt to give it a try?
I put on my boy clothes, combed my hair into my eyes, and grabbed my favorite toys. This was a Christmas party, but I didn’t do anything special for that. I was going to show up as the real me at my core and see what happened.
I parked and walked across the street where Colin opened the door and let me in.
“Hey, Kit,” he said.
“Hey. How’s Maddy?”
“He’s great. He’s here for the party. He thinks Santa will come.”
