Chapter 3 Victoriah Nichole Little

In my 20s, I became acquainted with someone who eventually became a mentor to me. Apparently he also was seeking advice from me when we met – which I didn’t realize – and he ended up attending classes where I was. He also got married in the months between my meeting him and then seeing him at school … to a widow with two daughters, whom he had just started dating when we first met. I became sort of a fixture in the family, like another son. And the sisters loved me too, so they were like my adopted little sisters. One loved to play with my hair, and put it in pig tails as a little teasing. One day she went further and put makeup on me. What else could I do then than to put on a dress? I wore one of the elder sister’s dresses that was stretchy and actually fit me. I was babysitting them, and we played all afternoon – Hide and Seek, Barbie Dolls. I chose my name then, or maybe it was chosen already, because immediately I just said, “Call me Vickie!” I did not plan that or even have to think much about it. I also knew I was six years old, and said as much. They loved it. IT IS IMPORTANT HERE TO NOTE!!! Not one thing untoward took place. This was not “fetish play” and my identity as a little girl is not a fetish. A fetish is something you do related to sexual attraction and there was nothing sexual in this. I had pants on under the dress and everything we did was 100% innocent. I felt no sexual attraction to them, nor did they to me – they were children, and I was their big brother who allowed them to “make” me up as a little girl. Their Mom even heard about it and merely giggled and asked if I wore one of HER dresses. (Of course not. Those were too mature.) It just so happened to awaken my inner identity. Long after they went to bed, I pulled out my laptop and began to search for any information on what I had experienced. I pretty quickly found things on petticoat punishment and sissies, but none of it seemed to fit what I experienced. But I knew, after my past in finding out there were others who liked diapers, that there must be others out there. Why didn’t I feel like those other two were really me? Well, in the case of petticoat punishment the subject is usually a boy who gets in trouble some way and is FORCED to dress up as a girl. It is punishment to him to wear a dress, or anything even remotely feminine, actually. I did not feel punished to wear a dress. I felt… natural. A sissy is harder to define. Generally still a boy, being MADE to wear girls clothes. Usually very soft and effeminate. Sometimes a failure at being a boy or a man. Usually also humiliated at the girls clothing he wears. Again, that was not me – I did not feel like a boy in a dress, I felt like an actual little girl. So I continued to search, and I stumbled across the page of an “Adult Little Girl” named Rebecca. Her page spoke to me, because it was exactly what I felt, 100%. I devoured that page and emailed her that same night. I also started writing a story called The Chronicles Of Vickie. You might recognize that as one of my published novels now. I waited two weeks to post any of it so we could make sure the world wasn’t going to end first at midnight on January 1, 2000. That all took place on December 19, 1999, so December 19 is my LG Birthday. Over the next few days I strengthened my little girl identity. I learned some things from pages Rebecca had linked. She also responded to my email and began to help me. She told me about an ICQ chat group them met on weekends and eventually I started to go to those and meet some others. I formalized a full name as Victoriah …. I like “h’s” lol. Nichole – you’ll notice the h again – was a friend that I honored as part of my name (plus I liked that name). The Little part came later after I had really good friends and was asked to be a “sister” with them, and they carried that last name. From the ICQ group I heard some girls talking about “The Pond” and asked what that was. Turned out to be a nightly chat on Petticoat Pond on a page made specifically for us little girls by the administrator of that site … her name was Tessy. I say was – Tessy has gone on now, as have MANY of my LG friends. Many many. From Petticoat Pond I learned about Girltalk.to, which was a forum where we talked about all kinds of things. What a resource that was!! What a way to grow! Friendships were made that lasted… well, a lifetime. I learned about another thing there – LG Camp. It took place twice a year at a resort in the Poconos called Rainbow Mountain. It took place two weekends a year – in the Spring and Fall – and it was magical for many years. The history was that Tessy knew of those who were LG and instituted that a group of them should meet for “Petticoat Camp” at a weekend for Transgenders and Crossdressers. Seven came to that first one, and actually that “Petticoat” part was dropped from the name pretty quickly. MANY girls came to Camp and wore petticoats (some wore LOTS of petticoats!), but not all. Some liked schoolgirl uniforms, play dresses – I dare say a few of us chanced to wear cute overalls and pink sparkly jeans! And more than half also were diapered under their girls clothes, regardless of the age we said we were – there’s just a comfort in that. The staff at Rainbow Mountain loved us, and we loved them. We even were very respectful to them as the adults … Mr, Angelo, Uncle Frank. They did fun things with us (Ms. Ruth usually led us in Crafts, we had several wig classes with a famous Transgender named Vonessa (she passed in a car accident), we had make-up classes and makeovers with a professional Who was also a Drag Queen who worked at the resort (and our friend), Jayson. We would go on hikes and we had weenie roasts (no comments from the peanut gallery okay?) and a birthday party. And the dinners…. The food was SO good. Breakfasts too on the weekend days. Just several days to gather and be with friends of like mind and play. Play? We even had a playground! Special chains were purchased and installed on the swingset to hold our weight. A jungle gym (SO many flipped skirts lol). A girl named Kirsty (she has gone on now as well) built a heavy duty see saw for us (repaired at least twice in the years to come). A memorial plaque – the the girls who started that first camp – was placed on the see saw and there was a memorial rose bush planted there for Krystina, the girl who started Girltalk.to, and died young from a heart attack. I led a little church service and Bible Class … started on Sunday Mornings, but I got more coming when I switched to Saturdays. We had a sketch artist one year, and started having egg hunts for Easter on the spring Camps. And we never forgot our friends. We started Memory Stars as a little program to remember those who could not come to Camp…. Of course also for those who departed, who had been part of Camp. For those special girls, we got little glass stars made with their names engraved in gold letters, we would hang those with a short loving statement about each girl Memorialized in this way. Saturday nights we would have a fashion show to show off our favorite dresses for the season. I saw as many as forty girls come, and as few as 8. As Victoriah Nichole Little I made every Camp. On my third, I was asked to direct – I directed 4 by the time I stopped. A director communicated with the resort about things we needed to know and do, communicated with the Campers and potential Campers, set the schedule, made sure the presenters had what they needed, and made sure things ran well during Camp. She also chose the next director. And that was Victoriah Nichole’s World. I amassed about 90 dresses in that time! I sold about 30. I gave away about 15 (most are LGs are bigger than me, so…) I still have way too many, and many that are saved because “I might lose weight and be able to wear them again!” And I suppose I have an emotional attachment to a few of them. This is not to say we were all always friends. And it is not to say there was never any drama. And it is not to say that there were no evil intentions ever among any LGs. If that were true, none of the rest of this story ever would have happened.