(Finished) Loved As We Are -- (Author) GentleDreamer96
(Finished) Loved As We Are -- (Author) GentleDreamer96
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Author: GentleDreamer96
Timestamp: Jun 21, 2016 at 1:04 AM
Content: Hey everyone! This is my first story! It's a non-sexual story about a guy whose girlfriend finds his ABDL stash. This isn't a diaper story as much as a coming out story. Let me know how you liked it!
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The knock on my front door jumpstarts my heart. When I open the door, Rachel pops through my doorway and wraps me in the warmest hug. Her ginger curls smell like apples and cinnamon. “Hii babyy,” She sings in a voice that melts me.
Part of me finds it ironic she'd use "baby" as a pet name; she doesn't know how appropriate it is (and hopefully won't for the rest of the foreseeable future).
She pulls back and our eyes meet. Her eyes are my favorite feature about her body: they’re a common brown, but it isn’t the color in them that makes them so wonderful. It’s the ever-present gleam of thoughts racing, and the compassionate, loving gaze she gives to everyone she meets.
“Heya,” I say back. We kiss the tender kiss of dear friends slipping into love, and I close the door.
“Art thou steeled to brave Ravenloft, my graceful little elf?” I ask. I’ve been waiting forever to run her through the single-player D&D adventure I crafted just for her.
“Oh babe, talk nerdy to me!” She grins, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Hey Rachel, I’m gonna run to the restroom,” I say, pecking her on the cheek and walking out of the living room. “The campaign’s in my room. You can get it if you like.”
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“Is that okay, baby?” Rachel’s voice breaks me out of my daydreaming as I wash my hands in the bathroom.
“Huh? Uh, yeah, whatever you like,” I say.
“Cool, thanks,” she replies.
As I turn off the water, I try to remember what she just said, and what I’ve just said yes to.
The words “can’t find it” and “closet” come to mind.
The closet. Dear God, not the closet.
I sprint for my room, screaming like a madman, “Rachel, it isn’t in the closet! It isn’t in the closet!”
I throw open my door and the world seems to move in slow motion. Rachel, unable to hear anything but the music blasting in her earbuds, has pushed aside the all-important suitcase in the top-right corner. Her hand is resting on the box containing the Secret Stash. The contents are stacked in the box in such a way that the weight is unevenly distributed for the box. Rachel pulls. She isn’t prepared to handle the awkward load. The box tips. She squeals. Game over.
Pint-sized baby bottles, jumbo pacifiers, and diapers that seem far too big for the cute little puppies that were printed on them rain down on my girlfriend’s head, a great and terrible cream-and-pastel cascade.
The last paci bounces off of the top of her head and lands by her shoe. She’s standing there, muscles tense, processing what just happened. It’s over. The shock and confusion will soon turn to horror, then to tears, then...what? Yelling? The sound of a car engine starting in my driveway for the last time? She’s my best friend. We aren’t yet in love, but we’re so dear to each other...aren’t we? She wouldn't leave me over this. Would she?
I read somewhere that spontaneous combustion is scientifically impossible. That’s a shame, because I would like nothing more in this moment than to be swallowed by flame and disappear in a pile of ash.
“Hey, ah, Babe,” Rachel asks, staring at the babyish paraphernalia at her feet. She's clearly straining to keep her voice conversational and dispassionate. “What’s this?”
“Um.” is all I can say. I don’t have the guts to meet her eyes. Part of me feels like I deserve what’s to come. How do you explain something so weird, so sick? I’m about to cry, of course. Stupid fucking baby.
“Hey, hey,” She says, tenderly wrapping her arms around me. I don’t return the hug because I hate that I need it. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she says, rubbing my back slowly. I bury my face in her neck because I don’t want to look at anything. Tears are leaking out, hot little pools spreading on her shirt fabric. I wonder why God would make something as pathetic as me. “You can tell me as much or as little as you want to. Whatever...this...is, it’s okay. Really.”
I pull back and look her in the face. “But Rachel, this is...really weird.”
“Yeah? Well guess what?” She says. She takes my face in her hands and presses her forehead to mine, so that all I can see are those loving brown eyes. “I don’t care.”
It’s true. I see no fear or revulsion in her eyes, only the same acceptance and love--yes, love, though not necessarily the romantic kind--that I saw when she first arrived today. No matter how weird this is, she’s my best friend. I see for the first time the unconditional nature of her love. The diapers at her feet are clearly too big for an infant. She must know who wears them, yet she still holds me and lets me hold her as her man. The tears come again, but she holds fast to my face so I can’t bury myself into the crook of her shoulder again. I have to look at her and let her look at me as I cry, this time with joy. I close my eyes and feel her lips meet mine. The kiss is salty with tears.
When I'm calm enough to talk, I sit down on my bed and pull her into my lap. “Well, you know I’m prone to anxiety and all,” I begin. “Sometimes, it helps to retreat to a world where things are, y’know, simpler.”
“Ah. So it’s sort of escape? Going back to a simpler time?” she asks.
“Yeah, basically,” I say.
“That’s not so bad. What were you freaking out about?” She asks. I stare at her. She may as well have just said, “You know, Hitler’s mustache was actually pretty cute.”
“What? I dress and act like a baby when nobody’s looking! Who even does that?”
“My boyfriend,” she replies. “Are you trying to make a point here?” She smiles at me innocently.
“Don’t give me that,” I say. “This is weird and wrong and...and crazy! How is this not crazy?”
“‘Crazy’ means irrational,” she says, lazily tracing my cheekbones with her finger. “You’re a rational person doing this for rational reasons. Different doesn’t mean crazy.”
“But isn’t it...um…” she is deliberately making it hard to think by gently scratching my scalp. “Isn’t it unmanly?”
Rachel sighs. “Screw gender norms. In the ‘50s, I’d be considered crossdressing in these jeans.”
I can’t think of a reply, so I just kiss her for being so wonderful.
Eventually, I muster up the courage to say, “By the way...that isn’t all.”
She looks up at me. “Yeah?”
“I…” I open and close my mouth. The words don’t want to come out, so I have to force them. “ I have a fetish for women who wear diapers. Who do what I do.”
I wait for a response, not daring to look her in the eyes. Finally, she says, “Oh,” with all the enthusiasm of somebody being told that their least favorite dish is being served for dinner.
“It really won’t matter much,” I start to plead, turning my gaze back to her. “I’m okay if you never ever want to touch this or even see me do this again. I can keep all of this totally separate from our relationship. All I ask is that we can talk about this like we’re supposed to talk about our problems with each other.”
“Of course!” she says. “But...I don’t know if I’ll be able to...wear this, you know? That’s okay, right?”
“Of course it is,” I say, refusing to let disappointment leak out in my voice. She can't ever feel less than adequate for me, especially not over something as trivial as a sexual favor. “I don’t just want just someone who’ll put on weird stuff I think is sexy. I want you.” It's as true as anything I've ever said. And we hold each other, two best friends falling slowly, easily into love.
After about a minute in each other’s warmth, Rachel says, “Now, willst thou ferry me to Ravenloft, oh Dungeon Master?”
We laugh and I get up to find the campaign. “Alright, babe,” I say, kissing her on the forehead, and as we march off to adventure, I reflect on the the much grander adventure we’re already on: loving each other not as we want the other to be, but as we are.
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Author: GentleDreamer96
Timestamp: Jun 23, 2016 at 10:36 PM
Content: Of course! I'd love to see a trend of non-erotic stories that provide insight into dealing with ABDL. Stories would be a great and fun way we can teach each other, share ideas, and explore some of the non-sexual beauty of our common quirk.