The Punk

CW: This story touches themes of harassment and bigotry. It's not focused on and there's nothing explicit, it's there as a prelude to the following comfort scene

Diaper U is later than I'd like! Sorry about that. Surprise work this week!

“Eat my dick!” I shouted at the asshole across the street, flipping double birds his way. He returned the middle finger, raising up a beer bottle in his other hand as though he might throw it my way.

I started to take a step forward, in challenge, and he backed down, turning to shuffle down the street, away from the bar. In the dusky light, I could watch him go for a long ways, and kept my eyes on him the whole way.

Once I was reasonably certain he wouldn’t come back–and that I wouldn’t need to bust his face–I turned and swaggered back into the bar, nodding at Chel, who’d taken a break from ignoring customers and was now actively glowering at them.

“What was that about, Lex?” she asked.

I shrugged. “He got confused trying to figure out what slur to call me.”

“Dick,” she replied, shrugging.

I didn’t really, particularly care. I dressed how I liked, and if anyone had a problem with it, they typically self-selected for needing their teeth kicked in. I’d yet to meet an asshole who I couldn’t at least trade blows with, and I always walked away having won at least as much as I’d lost.

My clothing was my armor. Black leather coated in spikes, long hair stuck up in a brilliant purple mohawk, enough sharp piercings in my face and body to set off metal detectors. Even my leather skirt had sharp spikes around the waist. It all sent the message I wanted people to understand.

If you touch me, it will hurt.

Nobody touched me.

Nobody except…

“I’m off,” I shrugged, tossing a few crumpled bills on the table to cover my tab. “Night.”

“Night,” Chel replied.

Rolling out of the bar, I let my leather jacket hang loose, swaggering down the street. I didn’t need to go far, not far enough to justify detouring to the nearest bus stop. I popped in my ear buds while I walked, shutting out the world with music.

Fuck the world. It didn’t like me, and I didn’t like it. I took care of myself. I answered to nobody. Anyone who tried to get in my way, I’d leave them bleeding.

Only one person stood out as an exception.

Mommy’s apartment building sat on the edge of town. I had a key to get in, though the door was so off-center I could have shouldered it open without much effort. Passing by the mail boxes, I moved up the stairs, counting steps.

Halfway up, I met someone coming down. A big guy, with three days of stubble and a shirt he’d been wearing for at least as long, judging by the smell. He gave me one look and snorted. “The fuck are you supposed to be?”

“Kiss my ass,” I replied. I didn’t stand aside to let him move past, and he didn’t move for me.

I knew the expression on his face, the thought running back and forth between his two brain cells. ‘Are you a guy in a skirt, or a girl with no tits?’

I knew the answer. Let him wonder. I kept walking up the stairs, the glare in my eyes furious and fiery.

He almost didn’t move, but when we were inches apart, he flinched back. Maybe his nerve broke, maybe he just didn’t want to touch me.

Glowering and furious, I made it up the last flight of stairs, unlocked the door to mommy’s apartment, and, finally, relaxed.

Her home was clean. It smelled like lavender and coffee, a stark contrast to the cigarettes and stale beer my nose was used to. One whiff, and I began to melt, the layers of emotional armor I wore slipping away.

“Lexie?” Mommy called from the kitchen.

“It’s me,” I replied. “I…”

“Just sit down, okay honey?”

I sat down on the couch. Nestled between far too many throw pillows, I knew I was out of place with the cozy, homey aesthetic. I didn’t care how it looked, I was home.

She came out of the kitchen a moment later. She was my age, within a year or two, and her smile softened when she saw me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said.

Her gaze didn’t falter, waiting for me to tell the truth.

“Just more assholes than usual today,” I conceded.

“Did you fight?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Didn’t have to.”

She never judged me for defending myself, but I knew she worried. That I’d be hurt. That I’d get blamed and arrested.

“Meet me in the bedroom,” she suggested. “We’ll get you changed out of your day clothes, then you can tell me about it, ok?”

I pushed up from where I’d just sat. “Sure–”

“Shh,” she replied. “Changes first.”

It was our ritual. She opened the door for me and I walked into her bedroom. She kept it as neat and comfortable as the rest of the house, a bed large enough for both of us, candles on the dresser, but what drew my attention was the box of silver jewelry sitting by the bed. My heart fluttered, ready for the release.

“Sit down,” Mommy instructed, and I obeyed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Arms up?”

I obeyed, and she removed my jacket, folding it neatly and placing the whole thing on the edge of the bed. Next came my shirt, and then she knelt, unlacing my knee-high boots and slipping them free.

My socks came next, and then my skirt, and then, finally, my underwear, so that I was sitting naked on the bed, exposed and vulnerable save for my piercings. I had no tattoos; I preferred body mods of the metallic variety.

So Mommy removed my steel piercings, too, one at a time. Her fingers were gentle and soft, caressing my skin as she moved from my head to my belly button, leaving only the silver Prince Albert’s piercing on my cock.

“You haven’t touched this, have you?” she asked, touching the last bit of metal still on me, the only thing that stood between me and complete nakedness.

I nodded.

“Good.” She leaned in, kissing my forehead. “Now lay back, ok?”

Again I nodded and readily obeyed, laying on the bed.

Mommy retrieving her box of silver, full of her special jewelry. Starting at my ears, she said, “We’re going to use them all today, okay?”

I nodded, and she reached out, slipping a pair of silver pins into each of my ears.

Instantly, the sounds of the world vanished. I couldn’t hear the TV in the apartment below, or traffic outside. I could only hear mommy’s soft humming as she cupped my face in her hand.

“Stick out your tongue,” she instructed. I obeyed, and the metal ball she placed on my tongue turned my voice numb and childish. “Can you speak?”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “A…” I tried to say, a little bit, but even those words suddenly escaped me, so I just repeated. “Uh-huh.”

The septum ring had no obvious effects, not yet, but I knew what it did, and the thought made me squirm. Mommy giggled as she moved to gently insert my eyebrow piercing, a metal rod above my right eye, and my vision and turned soft.

It was as though I was seeing the world through a filter, pulling my gaze away from distractions. Mommy was always beautiful, but now she was captivating too, stealing my attention. I couldn’t look away from her as she moved her hands downward.

I felt the piercing go into my belly button, a little silver ring that, I knew, stole my potty training away. So long as I had it on, I’d not be able to hold it in the slightest–and even if I did have an accident, my nose ring ensured I’d never be able to smell it.

Which is why, just a second later, Mommy produced a diaper from beneath the bed and slid it beneath my hips. She traced a finger over the piercing in my penis, the one that kept me perpetually flaccid, unable to get erect no matter how badly I tried. “You’re such a good baby,” she praised, folding the diaper up between my legs.

The rest of my outfit carried no magic, but it was just as important to me. My new skirt was pink fabric, and while a t-shirt and denim jacket wasn’t too out of place in my wardrobe, the colorful pony patches certainly struck a more playful vibe. Only my hair remained untouched; I was too attached to what it meant to me for Mommy to even consider adjusting it. I wouldn’t be me if that was changed.

Last came the stockings, and those did have a little spark of power. While I had them on, I could walk, but only slowly and awkwardly. She encouraged me to crawl, and sometimes I did, though often I’d try to assert a little big-ness by waddling stiffly from room to room, struggling for balance.

Dressed and diapered, I was helpless, and I was hers. I could remove the piercings, of course, but doing so would spoil the magic.

I raised my arms, opening and closing my hands to request a hug–it was easier than trying to find the words. Mommy obliged enthusiastically, leaning in to wrap her arms around me.

“I’m going to check on dinner,” she said. “It’ll still need a while longer in the oven, though. Would you like to cuddle on the couch?”

I nodded enthusiastically, and she helped me sit up. “Do you need my help getting there?”

Shaking my head, I got to my feet. My diaper poked out beneath the bottom of the skirt if I moved, but I didn’t care if mommy saw. Taking a few awkward, imbalanced steps, I decided that there was no reason tonight and dropped to all fours, crawling out of her bedroom with my crinkling bottom in the air.

Mommy returned a moment later with a sippy cup of juice for me, and a plastic cup full of animal crackers. “I thought you might want a little snack.”

I nodded, reaching out for both.

“Do you want to tell me about your day?” she asked.

Thinking, I tried to decide how to put it into words. Nothing had happened, I’d just been reminded too many times what people outside my select few thought of me. I’d stared them down and walked away the more self-assured every time, but I could only be rigid and strong for so long.

“Bad,” I mumbled with my limited vocabulary. “Bunch of meanies. Made me...sleepy.”

“It left you drained?” she suggested, filling in where my speech couldn’t.

I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s okay now, baby. Mommy’s got you, and you don’t need to worry about any of that while you’re here.” She pulled me closer, so I was almost on her lap. “I love you, baby.”

A few words hadn’t been taken from me. I whispered back, “I love you too.”