Chapter Five: Anson

I can’t help but blink in stunned surprise by just how swift and absolute Drake’s answer is. It’s definitely reassuring, but he didn’t even stop to wonder why I would ask such a question to begin with.

I have to say I appreciate that because I’m currently going through some epic revelations. I’m stuck in my feels big time, or whatever the young people are saying nowadays.

I was not expecting my own reaction to putting on a diaper and onesie.

It was awkward to get the diaper on while standing up in the bathroom, but I managed it, and the effect was instantaneous.

As soon as I tightened those tabs around my hips, something in my brain kind of snapped into place. Physically, it felt a bit odd, having padding around my cock and my ass, making me widen my stance and waddle a little, but it felt… good . More than that, it felt right .

I’m so frustrated that I can’t verbalize it any better than that. It just felt like what I needed in the moment. Like what I’ve always needed.

There’s a weight to the diaper which I found instantly comforting when I put it on. The dry insides of the cotton-plastic blend are soft, but within moments of taping it closed, I discovered that if press down on the front of it, the friction against my dick is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And when I climbed into the onesie and did up the zipper, the clingy, warm fabric seemed to mold the diaper against me, adding to the feeling of security while pushing the diaper snuggly against my skin, really enforcing that pleasurable friction.

For the first time since talking to other people in the kink world, I have an idea of what it means when other people said that they just fall into their roles with ease.

Because standing in that steamy bathroom, newly dressed in my onesie and diaper, I felt as though I could quite easily let go and just be Little .

It was that very realization that pulled me directly out of the fantasy.

I’ve never once imagined that I might be a Little.

Yeah, I watched Daddy kink and age play porn, but I was excited about being a Daddy…wasn’t I?

As the steam began to slink out under the miniscule gap beneath the bathroom door, I had strained my memory and had started to realize that it might not have been the case.

When I watch the porn, I love the way the Daddies look after the Littles. I love that the trust goes both ways, even if it is just a scene for entertainment’s sake. I love that the Littles can be vulnerable, and that the Daddies are there to make sure the Littles are safe and have their needs met.

And, as this realization dawned on me, so did the understanding that I was drawn to all of that because I secretly yearn to find someone to be vulnerable for.

I realized that I don’t just enjoy playing with Littles in scenes because of my job. I enjoy playing with Littles because I enjoy playing full stop.

Now, as I stand in front of Drake —a man who is arguably the Daddiest of Daddies— and give myself permission to admit that I like being dressed like this, even more is clicking into place.

The reason I don’t like doing discipline scenes isn’t because I’m a happy-go-lucky, fun-loving guy. It’s because I don’t feel like I should have the authority to do them. It’s because I am more submissive by nature. It’s because I would prefer to be put over a Daddy’s knee instead of being the Daddy.

Holy crap, I’m a Little .

This is not the sort of revelation I want to be having while I’m snowed in in a relative stranger’s cabin over Christmas. Especially when the stranger is Drake: the most perfect example of a Daddy ever.

I’m relieved that he’s reassured me that it’s not weird to like the diaper and the onesie, even though twenty minutes ago I thought I was a Daddy like him, but what might he say if I told him that I’ve suddenly and unexpectedly realized I’ve gotten everything all wrong?

What does it say about me that I’ve been exploring the entirely wrong side of age play kink, and I had no fucking idea I was so far off track? How can I have not understood my own interests and urges? How did I miss all my own signs?

I’m an intelligent man. A doctor, in fact. Isn’t this the sort of thing I should have been able to work out about myself?

“Anson,” Drake’s voice is rumbling and soothing. He places a big, warm palm on my shoulder and leads me over to the bed, where he sits me on the edge of the mattress. “You okay? Talk to me.”

My heart hammers in my chest.

I want to talk to him about this, but…what if he judges me for being such a failure at being a Daddy? Because I didn’t tell him that I like wearing the diaper and onesie, only that I don’t hate it. I was deliberately vague because I’m supposed to be a Daddy. I’m supposed to be a Daddy and I’m not. I’m supposed to be a Daddy and—

“Anson, breathe for me. Come on, deep breaths. In…that’s it. Now out. Good. Good boy. Again.”

I hadn’t even noticed that I was hyperventilating.

Which one of us is the MD again? God, maybe I should give back my degree, too.

“Are you okay?” As I refocus and my heart rate starts to slow, I blink down into concerned brown eyes. Drake is crouched in front of me, rubbing his palms up and down my thighs. I concentrate on the repetitive, calming motion of his hands and nod.

“Yeah,” I answer, but the word comes out all croaky. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Sorry. I, um, I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it, honey,” the endearment lights me up inside, but he continues, and I wonder if he even realized that he said it, “but I’m going to make a couple of pretty big assumptions. You don’t have to say anything, and you can red light if it makes you uncomfortable, but…try to hear me out, okay?”

I swallow convulsively and my heart thuds against my ribcage, but I nod.

“I’m gonna start by saying that if you’re comfortable and happy, that’s all that matters.”

Oh God, he knows.

“Now, I get the feeling you’re maybe realizing that you like being dressed in Little clothes more than you let on. And maybe that’s making you rethink everything else, too. Am I on the right track?”

Is it written all over my face or something? How the hell does he know that?

Biting my lip, I force myself to nod again, and I close my eyes to try and fight off the unexpected tears which are threatening to slide down my cheeks.

“Can you tell me why that upsets you? Was it just that it was a shock to realize it?”

“I…” Letting out a shaky breath, I look down at my lap and see that he has turned one of his hands over on my thigh, resting it there with his palm facing up. He wiggles his fingers and my lips twitch into the ghost of a smile before I tentatively place my hand in his. He squeezes, and I take a deep breath in, suddenly feeling more confident. “I thought I was a Daddy,” I confess. “Or…or a Master or something. I mean…I’m a doctor, and I’m thirty , and I…” I blow out a breath and hang my head. “I guess I’ve had some pretty unhealthy assumptions lurking in my subconscious about the differences between Littles and Daddies.”

When I look back up at Drake, there’s no censure or judgment in his expression. He just tilts his head in acknowledgement and says, “It’s good that you’re able to realize that. Working on those unhealthy pigeonholes in your own head is important. But, for the record, I don’t think you’re any less successful or whatever just because you look freaking adorable right now.”

I snort, unable to stop myself from preening under the compliment.

Drake gives my hand a tug and points at the standing mirror next to the closet. “Why don’t you go look in the mirror and see if it helps settle some of your misgivings. You think Littles are cute, right?”

A smile tugs my lips upwards just a bit more. “I do.”

“Well, maybe have a look and see whether the guy in the mirror changes some of your preconceived ideas about yourself, hmm? Sometimes we make assumptions about ourselves because we’ve never considered any alternatives. Have a look at yourself as a Little and see if it doesn’t help make things easier to process.” He pushes back up into a standing position and smiles down at me with warmth. “You don’t have to come to terms with it all at once, either. Don’t push yourself too far or too fast. But, while you’re looking in that mirror and thinking this all over, I’m gonna go make us some cocoa. Come find me when you’re feeling up to it, okay? I’m not gonne judge you for how you deal with this.”

As he walks out of the room, I can’t help but think that he really is a natural Daddy through and through. He reminds me of Vince, only I realized early on that Vince and I would only ever be friends. But Drake sparks an interest in me that is anything but platonic.

With a sigh and a shake of my head, I decide to listen to Drake’s advice. I rise unsteadily to my feet and waddle over to stand in front of the timber-framed mirror, seeing myself for the first time.

Wow.

Drake was right: I look adorable.

That probably sounds conceited, but I look just as cute as the Littles I’ve played with at The Grove. Turning sideways, I blush and grin to myself at the obvious additional puff to my butt. Unable to resist the urge, I wiggle it, and a giggle erupts out of my mouth at the sight in the mirror.

The overwhelming sense of rightness that I’d felt in the bathroom washes over me again.

I can’t fight this, I realize. There’s no way I can go back to being a Daddy again. Not after knowing what this feels like.

Standing here in front of my reflection, I see the Boy I’ve always been but have never known was there. I can feel myself wanting to just let go of being Big Anson and to explore this previously unknown side of myself. Being diapered and dressed this way makes my brain want to just relax into it.

Can I do that? Is that fair on Drake? That’s not the Grinchy Christmas he signed up for.

He asked me to come here as a fellow Daddy looking to escape the Hallmark Holiday festivities. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to literally babysit a brand new Little as I explore these new, exciting, kinky urges I’m feeling.

And they are exciting.

Despite my freakout, I am happy to finally feel like I really do fit in to the BDSM lifestyle after all. The niche isn’t what I’d thought it would be, but I want to give in to my body’s urges. I want to try being Little.

I’ve even crossed what most people see as the biggest, weirdest hurdle: I’m wearing a diaper. Should that part have fazed me more, or did it help that I’ve tried being a Daddy and don’t think it’s weird that people use them?

Whatever. I’m okay with it, and that’s all that matters right now.

Still, I find myself locating my phone from where I left it on the bed next to the duffel bag earlier, calling Vince without even thinking about it.

He’s been my best friend since our first year of college, and now we work in the same hospital, albeit in different departments. His opinion matters to me more than anyone else’s. Even though I’ve decided to embrace this newly discovered side of myself, I need to hear him say that it’s okay, too.

He answers my call within three rings, which is impressive because I know he’s already at his parents’ place, and he has his Little with him, too.

“Merry Christmas, stranger,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He also sounds relieved. “I know it’s not technically Christmas yet, what with being Christmas Eve-Eve, but I’m surprised to hear from you. Changed your mind about the holidays after all? You know you’re still welcome here.”

I shake my head, forgetting that he can’t see me, and sit down heavily on the bed again. “No,” I reply out loud, “nothing like that. I just—” My throat goes unexpectedly tight and tears clog my vision.

“Hey, are you okay?” Vince’s voice is suddenly full of serious concern. “Anson, what’s wrong?”

In this moment, it hits me that he’s always been my unofficial caregiver. When I started looking into the kink, I put the pieces together and saw him as having caregiver tendencies, and I assumed that I was the same, seeing as we’re both doctors and all. But now I can see the difference between our professions and our personal behaviors, and I understand that I’ve relied on him to be a Daddy-type for a long time. Since we met, in fact.

Before I can help it, a sob bursts up out of my chest and through my lips.

That does not calm my best friend down at all.

“Anson, for fuck’s sake, what’s going on? Where are you?” I hear the jangle of keys and it warms my heart to know that he’s willing to come looking for me if he has to.

Not unlike Drake coming to my rescue earlier…

“I’m fine,” I tell him, and I let out a watery laugh at his resulting scoff. “No, I promise I am. I just…um…” Just rip the BandAid off, Anson. “I just… I-discovered-I’m-a-Little .” The confession leaves me in a rush and then I burst into tears again, barely registering the stunned silence coming from the other end of the line.

Now, I’ve watched Vince interacting with Bear a lot over the past six months, but I’ve never had his Daddy voice directed my way. It’s jarring when his entire demeanor shifts over the call. I can picture him vividly, even though I can’t see him.

“Anson, bud, listen to me,” he says, using the voice he always uses with Bear when he’s calming him down, all patient and warm and loving. It makes me cry harder because I need this. “I’m so proud of you, okay?” Another strangled sob escapes me, and Vince shushes me. “No, really. I know how huge and life-altering this is for you.” He chuckles, but it’s one of his self-deprecating sounds. “Remember when I realized Bear was a Little and he thought I was a Daddy? Remember what you said to me?”

I feel a little guilty because I’d taken his call and laughed my ass off. To be fair, I’d tried to warn him when they’d met at my birthday party, but he hadn’t listened.

Nevertheless, the question calms me down enough that I can sniffle and haltingly answer, “I told you that you had a choice.”

“You did. And you told me that, if I did go through with it, I should embrace my natural instincts. Well,” he pauses to let that advice sink in, “I’m telling you the same thing now. You don’t have to do anything with this discovery, Anson. But if you do, just do whatever feels right for you. It’s all about feeling good, remember?”

“Fine. Be rational and supportive,” I sigh dramatically, making him laugh.

After another moment, Vin asks, “Are you alone right now?”

“In this room? Yes.”

There’s another beat of silence. “Anson.” Vince’s Daddy voice is back. “Where are you?”

Exhaling, I close my eyes and confess, “Um. In a cabin in the middle of nowhere with Drake.”

“Drake?”

“You know…from The Grove? Big, cuddly, looks like a lumbersnack?”

“Don’t you mean lumberjack?”

“I said what I said.”

Vin snorts and then seems to do a double take. “Hang on…he’s a Daddy, right? I knew he had a thing for you!”

Huffing, I shake my head. “Okay, he didn’t invite me out here with nefarious intentions, so back down Daddy Vin.”

“But—”

“—And he didn’t, like, force me to try being Little or anything, either. He invited me here as a friend, and there was this whole comedy of errors which basically ended up with me getting the wrong bag out of my car so then I had to get changed into the Little stuff I’d bought for Tanner…”

“So why not just go get the right bag out of your car?”

I cringe. “So, um, don’t freak out, but I had a tiny, insignificant, super -minor crash and—”

“ Crash?! ”

“Well, it was more like just a little—” terrifying “—skid and a bump against a tree.”

“Anson!”

“I’m fine , no concussion or anything.” I rush to assure him before he gets any crazy ideas about calling an ambulance or something. “So, anyway, my car’s a couple of miles away and—” I glance out the window and realize that all I can see is snow. “—we’re kind of snowed in now, so…”

“Jesus Christ. Only you would get yourself into these situations.” Vince grumbles. My resulting chuckle dies in my throat, though, when he demands, “Put Drake on the line.”