Page 83 of A Little Bit Naughty

“No,” Isaac backpedaled. “He is, I promise. OK…” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to figure out where to start.

“So the guy I said I dated for a few weeks, he took me to a munch. And that’s where I met Owen. He introduced me to age play and… all of a sudden so many things clicked into place. We were actually together for five years.”

Remi whistled. “Five years! You said you had a Daddy before but that’s… that’s most of your adult life. How young were you?”

Isaac shook his head. “I promise it’s not what you’re thinking. When we met, I was a sophomore in college and he was a senior. And we were both figuring ourselves out.”

Remi still didn’t look convinced. In a way, it was comforting to see all of Remi’s distrustful anger automatically on his side, but unfortunately it was misplaced.

“I promise, it was a really beautiful relationship for a long time. When I discovered age play, it was like coming home. I figured out why I used to play in the attic with my old cloth diapers when I was a kid. Or why I felt so guilty and excited when I played house with my younger sister and got to be the baby, even though I was four years older. Why I felt like my life was over when my parents threw away my blanky when I was fourteen. He made me realize that everything about that was healthy, and I could just accept that side of myself.”

“Everything about that is completely healthy,” Remi interrupted. “And I’m so sorry about your blanky.”

“It’s OK now. I still miss it, but it wasn’t as much about the blanket as the way it made me feel. And my Daddy, I mean, Owen, was able to give that back to me. He was only two years older than me, but he knew exactly what he wanted for both of us. After our first year of dating, he graduated and we got an apartment together. It was blissful. I could put everything into my classes because I had my… because Owen was there for me when I got home every evening.”

“That sounds like a good start…” Remi said cautiously.

“It was. I was happier than I’d ever been. More settled. We thought we were going to be together forever. Like, obviously we were pretty young, but we loved each other, and we were able to work through a lot of difficult things.”

“So what happened?”

“I guess it was… kind of gradual? But Da– Owen was always encouraging me to dress more femininely. When he met me, all I wore was loose t-shirts and jeans. But he’d make little comments about how cute I’d look in a dress, or buy me earrings or lipstick to dress me up. And the thing was, I loved having him dress me and take care of me. But I ended up hating how I looked. I wanted to please him so much, though, and it was difficult to figure out. When I was little, he’d give me a bath and brush out my long hair, and I loved feeling his fingers running through it and braiding it, but it got to the point where I hated looking in the mirror.

Remi sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That sounds traumatic. And I wish I could be there to hold you right now.”

Isaac managed at least part of a smile. “I wish you were here, too. And yes, it was more traumatic than I realized at the time. Like, I think I managed to ignore my body and my masculinity for most of my life, as long as I could be more of a tomboy, like without any gender. But Owen’s idea of a sweet little was definitely a little girl. We used to get into fights over my toys. I loved coloring books and blocks, so we could kind of agree on those. But when I wanted a toy car, he’d get me a pink one. I asked for a tool kit, and he came home with a whole set that was purple and covered with glitter. He kept asking if I wanted to play dolls and I just… I didn’t. I couldn’t stand them. It was like asking me to role play everything that I’d always hated in this time that was supposed to be calming and take me away from everything stressful.”

“Oh, Isaac. That sounds awful.”

“It was. There was a while where I was getting punished all the time because I’d talk back, but I wasn’t trying to be naughty. I just didn’t have the words for why I didn’t like all the things he bought for me. One day, we were supposed to be going to a tea party and he bought me this god-awful dress. I can’t even tell you how many layers of pink and lace and craziness it had on it. And I just started screaming at him that I didn’t want to be a girl. That I didn’t even want to be a little or have a Daddy if it meant I had to play with dolls and wear the dress.”

Just talking about it made it all come back, that stomach-dropping moment of realization, when he just couldn’t take another day of his relationship with his Daddy if it meant he was so miserable. And then the feeling of screaming at his Daddy and being so, so terrified of what would result.

Remi must have seen it on his face. “Oh, darling. Can you hold Lizzy extra close and pretend I’m holding you? I hate being so far away.”

Isaac pulled his stuffies up to his face. That was a little better.

“Get the blanket, too. Wrap it all around you. Pretend you’re right here on my lap.”

Isaac made a wet little half-laugh. Apparently all it took was him breaking down for them to both forget that he wasn’t supposed to be Remi’s boy right now.

He pulled the blanket around his shoulders. It was warm and a little heavy. And not at all the same as Daddy Remi’s arms, but it weighed him down in just the right way and reminded him that Daddy was there for him. It was exactly what Isaac needed, and he hadn’t even realized it.

“Is that better, baby boy?”

“Yeah.” He could almost feel Daddy’s strong arms holding him close. And he was finally, finally getting the comfort and understanding he’d always wanted about coming out. He’d had friends who were indignant on his behalf and plenty of affirming people in his life. But it was different when it was Remi.

“Do you want to tell me what happened next?” Remi asked.

“Yeah, I want to finish.” It was a little easier now. “So, uh, that was the moment when I realized I wasn’t female. Right in the middle of this temper tantrum in the living room. I told Da– Owen that I wanted to be a boy. And he looked… completely stunned. It took us a while to figure it out, but that was the turning point, or at least I thought it was at the time. He asked if I was trans, and I said that maybe I was.”

“That sounds pretty confusing and overwhelming. Did he support you?”

“Yeah. I mean, he did in so many important ways. He took me to doctor’s appointments and helped me pay for my surgery. Like, he was doing all of the things that a good partner should do. I started going to a transmasculine support group and seeing a therapist, and every step I took further into it felt more right.”

“So what happened?”

“Basically another two years of nothing quite working in our relationship. Owen would take me shopping for new clothes, and I’d just be bursting with joy at how good I looked. How much like me. He’d say all the right words to compliment me, but it wouldn’t reach his eyes. He bought me new toys, all the fire trucks and hammers and dinosaurs that I wanted. But we stopped playing as often, and I never went as deep. I’m not even sure when it happened, but we stopped doing diapers and baths because I didn’t want him to see me naked, and I think he didn’t want to see me either. But the thing was… as hard as I’d tried to be a good girl for him before, he was working just as hard to be attracted to and supportive of me as a boy. But he finally said he couldn’t look at me undressed and see a man.”