The car ride home was incredibly awkward. Claire kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. It was obvious she was concerned, but she was acting like I would explode at any moment..
Surely she would believe me, later, when I've had time to calm down from the emotional morning. I'd explain myself better; That this was all just a misunderstanding. I didn't need a reclassification appointment. I was just overtired and got really surprised/stressed from the man yelling at me.
The car tires crunched over gravel as Claire turned into our driveway. I kept my knees pressed tight together, a poor attempt to muffle any embarassing sounds at first, but increasingly now because my bladder somehow already felt uncomfortably full again. I was grateful I at least noticed I had to pee this time, but I was dismayed by how frequently the urge had struck me in the past couple hours.
As Claire turned the key, the engine ceased and the silence was punctuated by an involuntary moan as the urge intensified, sharp and insistent. I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together even tighter, lip quivering. It was taking every bit of my concentration, but I was determined.
I can't use the pullup.. I can't use the pullup. I can hold it.
Claire noticed immediately. Moving swiftly and wordlessly she unbuckled us both, and got out of the car. I made to do the same but upon trying to raise myself out of the seat I felt a small spurt of pee escape into my pull-up. I gasped, trying with all my might to regain control, but it was too late.
Warmth bloomed between my legs once again, and my hands flew to my crotch in a pointless attempt to stop the flow. "Plea⊠aaah. Please stoppp" I desperately pleaded with my body.
My bladder finished emptying itself, mundanely oblivious to my desperate pleas. And then it as done; The overwhelming urgency was gone as quickly as it had came.
Claire emerged from the other side of the car, and saw me still sitting.
I looked up at her, eyes tearing up for what felt like the 100th time today. Not thinking about what I was saying, just desperate to feel understood, I sputtered "I d-didn't- it just- but I couldn't holâŠ" I trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
Claire took my hand, gently guiding me up and out of the car toward the house. Squish... Squish... Squish... The foreign sensation of the sodden padding between legs made my face burn with humilation.
"It's okay Lena.. You're not in trouble, and it's been a rough rough morning for you. Maybe an afternoon nap would help? I know you mentioned you also didn't sleep well last night, so maybe that's.. why.."
Claire's face went slightly pink, mortified at the implications of suggesting an afternoon nap of all things in this situation, but I was too preoccupied with my pull-up to notice.
The front door swung open before we reached it. Mrs. Henderson from next door stood there holding a casserole dish wrapped in foil, her smile faltering as she took in my tear-streaked face and the waistband of my pullup peeking above my sweatpants.
She stood there for a moment, her mouth open in a silent "...Oh" she closed her mouth and forced an akward smile after a beat too long. She offered the dish toward Claire, she explained "I heard Lena got a new job, thought I'd bring over a little⊠uhh.." Her eyes darted back to my waistband, then back up to Claire, and then to me. "A.. big.. " she winced at her awful pivot "A big.. yummy casserole..!"
"Real smooth" murmured Claire to Mrs. Henderson under her breath, half exasperated half amused.
Unable to take yet another person seeing me this way, I rushed past her and into the house, nearly slipping on the hardwood floor in my haste. The sound of Claire thanking Mrs. Henderson was muffled as I turned the corner and bolted upstairs. I slammed my bedroom door shut. I collapsed onto my bed, and curled into the tightest ball I possibly could.
I heard the creak of footsteps climbing the stairs a few minutes later, deliberately slow, like Claire was giving me a warning she was coming. She knocked twice before entering, holding a mug of chamomile tea, her 'universal fix for everything'.
She placed the mug softly on my nightstand and perched on the edge of my bed. She didn't speak at first, just rested a warm hand on my curled-up shoulder. The silence stretched until it became its own kind of comfort.
What felt like hours later, I'd calmed down enough to have some tea. It was still warm, perfect drinking temperature. Midway through my final sip, Claire finally spoke. "I'm sorry Lena.. but we really have to get you out of.. that." She knew I knew what she meant. I nodded, expecting her to get up so I could change, but she remained. I looked at her questioningly, a slight feeling of anxiety forming once again.
I got up proactively, not wanting to believe she was staying for the reason I suspected. I opened the bottom drawer on my dresser and surveyed my options. After a moment of indecision, I pulled out my lacy black panties, hoping subconciously that they might help me feel a little more in control.
"SweetheartâŠ" That tone..the one that made my stomach drop. "We both know it might.. not be a good idea to wear those right now."
I clutched the underwear so hard the lace left marks on my palms, heartrate instantly intensifying "I--I can handle it," I said, my quavering voice betraying my lack of confidence.
Claire shook her head with resignation, reaching into her oversized purse. "I grabbed a few of these from Barb at the rec-center. She said they'd never had cause to use them yet, so they still had the all 5 legally required packages in the HR storage room. Of course, another pull-up; this one patterned with cartoon ducks and frogs.
"Just until tomorrow" she said softly, placing it on the bed between us, like it was a peace offering. "After the reassessment, if everything comes up clear, you can wear whatever you want, okay?."
The unspoken if not hung heavy in the air.
"I'm going to let you change, and then I'd love it if you'd come down for lunch when you're ready. You don't have to, but you should eat sometime soon and Hannah won't be home until this evening so it would be just us" Claire invited gently, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
I stared at the cartoon-covered garment on my bedspread. It laid there like an official accusation. The cheerful yellow ducks grinned up at me, their cartoon eyes jeering at me while the frogs ribbeted with laughter.
With resignation, I pulled off my pants and disdainfully ripped the sides of the ruined pull-up, tossing it into the trash with more force than necessary. The cool air hit my damp skin, making me shiver.
For a wild moment, I considered defiance-- just pulling on the black lace panties anyway, but the memories of each incident today flashed across my mind. With a defeated sigh I unfolded it, putting my legs through one at a time.
The fresh, dry padding that now pressed against my skin was definitely an improvement, but that didn't make it any less humiliating. Tired, I flopped down on my bed, pants still strewn on the floor. My eyelids felt heavy.
Why is this happening? I've never had an accident while I was awake since I was 4.. So why now, and why.. so often? Am I sick? Stressed? Or, god forbid⊠Was I actually misclassified?
A yawn overtook me before I had the chance to ruminate, the emotional exhaustion of it all was hitting me like a sedative. My last conscious thought was that I'd just close my eyes, just for a few minutes before going downstairs.
Since my Neutral classification almost 2 months ago, I had put the.. ânight-time incidentâ fully out of my mind. It was honestly pretty easy to forget about between the relief of not being classified as a little, and the new job I'd somehow landed myself after Hannahâs mom insisted I apply to a few different postings. The place that hired me ended up being our local recreation centre, where I was to be one of their receptionists. The first week was purely group training, and it was actually really fun.
It went by quickly because each day there was exciting introductory videos that we got to watch, along with fun team building games and exercises. We even got a pizza party upon graduating our final day of training 2 weeks in.
I arrived at the rec center that morning, jazzed for my first day of work. After entering through the sliding doors, I walked toward the back wall where the receptionist desk was built in. I took a deep breath, and for the first time since my hire, pushed through the little half gate embossed with an âEmployees Onlyâ sign. An uneasy feeling began to creep over me. Now that I was actually behind the counter, everything was starting to seem a lot less fun and a lot more real.
I made my way behind the chairs at the desk where two ladies sat already, chatting about their weekend plans. I sat at the third computer, and the two ladies acknowledged me with polite smiles before continuing their conversation.
I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do now. I couldn't seem to recall the actual training part of my training. I'd been so surprised that things were actually fun that I didn't stop to notice I wasn't really understanding the bits of system & procedural training that were mixed in between the team games and videos.
I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the screen. It looked nothing like my fully personalized computer at home. Created purely to meet the requirements of the business, the program was boring and grey. I couldn't make heads or tails of the various buttons, tabs, and menus that were littered throughout the screen. I might as well have been sitting in the cockpit of a commercial airplane.
"I don't remember learning any of this.." I thought to myself, a sinking feeling of anxiety forming in the pit of my stomach.
"Hello??" a man said obnoxiously, snapping his fingers with impatience "Hey airhead, you in there?!"
I jumped, looking up from my screen at the frustrated man. I'd been so lost in thought I hadn't even noticed the man standing on the other side of the counter. The other receptionists had stopped chatting, and were looking towards me with indiscernible expressions.
Still struggling to compose myself, I finally was able to sputter out a response.
"I'm s-sorry sir. H-how can I help you?"
He rolled his eyes, seeming barely able to contain his impatience.
"How do you think, genius? I want a pass to the pool already!" he snapped, arrogantly waving a $10 bill in my face.
His harsh tone hit me like a truck, tears automatically beading up in my eyes. I felt frozen; Unable to reply, unable to think. This raw emotion was like unlike anything I'd experienced before now. It swept me away so completely that I couldn't even remember what had triggered this feeling, only that I didn't like it and I wanted it to stop! I closed my eyes tightly, instinctively trying to soothe myself.
I distantly heard one of the receptionists address the man.
"Mornin' Rob, still haven't had your coffee I see?"
"Hi Barb. Not just that, but I spilled it everywhere because a biker went straight through the intersection and I had to slam on my brakes, so all I've had this morning is a few sips and a burnt tongue"
"Ouch, that doesn't sound fun at all. Wait a sec! Don't forget your change." I heard a jingle of coins and opened my eyes a smidge as the man passed through the turnstile.
I was slowly coming back to my senses now, enough to realize I'd just embarrassed myself and potentially might be in trouble for making the company look unprofessional.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder, and I looked up. 'Barbra Franklin: Senior Administrator' was printed cleanly on the polished name tag pinned to her green fleece rec-center vest. Her gentle voice broke the silence.
"Are you ok dear? That was a rough first customer to have. Gary is usually pretty nice but he's had a bad day so far and took it out on you. I'm sure he'll want to apologize on his way out."
I shook my head
"He doesn't have to apologize. I don't know why I reacted that.. that way.. Even if he was mean I should be able to handle it."
"I think you're being a bit hard on yourself dearâ she said kindly. âIt is only your first day after all. I saw you looking at the computer earlier and I could tell you were confused. These programs were made well before you were born, so I don't blame you for becoming overwhelmed with Gary. Tell you what, I'll take you to the break room and you can take 30 minutes to relax and then come back refreshed like nothing happened. Sound good?"
I nodded, feeling relieved that I wasn't in trouble for the unprofessional display, and got up to follow her to the break room. A few steps from the door, the other receptionist called over
"Hey Barb..? Did you already see.." with exaggerated pronounciation, she silently mouthed the last two words '..the chair?'
Barb turned around
"Sorry dear, one moment. I just need to see what she's asking me, my hearing isn't quite as good as it used to be. Back in a jiffy."
I watched her make her way back to the other receptionist, who I saw point toward my chair. Barb peered over the back of the chair, and shook her head piteously.
She looked over toward me, and in that moment I finally began to understood what had happened.
This isnt happening. This cant be happening. There's no wayâŠ
I discreetly felt the underside of my pants, not willing to believe it was what I suspected, what I feared that it was.
My fingers made contact with the wet, now rapidly cooling fabric of my pants, and my fears were confirmed. I'd had a full blown accident. In broad daylight. At my brand new job. And I hadn't even realized it?!
How did this happen? What is happening to me? Am I getting sick or something? I don't understand. I don't understand..
The momentary relief I'd felt earlier was long gone, replaced by an anxious flurry of indistinct thoughts. I felt an almost imperceptible spasm in my bladder.
I have to pee again?? I literally just..
I felt fresh warmth blooming between my thighs and down my legs. I paniced, desperately pressing both hands between my legs. I did not have to pee, I was peeing.
An involuntary whimper escaped my lips as I tried, and failed to stem the flow of urine now dripping onto the carpet.
I hardly registered Barb gently taking me by the hand, and leading me to the break room. I followed automatically, too ashamed to look up; lost in the whirlpool of emotions.
Every step felt more humiliating than the last. After what felt like forever, we arrived in the break room. Thankful at least that the room was empty, I looked around. The room was spacious, with a full kitchenette, and comfy couches and chairs that surrounded a faux wooden coffee table.
Barb fetched a white garbage bag from the cupboard under the sink and placed it upon one of the chairs, gesturing for me to sit. Trying not to think about the implication too hard, I sat on plastic. It instantly clung to my wet legs, and I shifted uncomfortably.
"Stay here for a minute dear, I'm just going to see if I can find you something to change into."
I sat rigidly on the plastic-covered chair, anxiously fidgeting with my hands as I scanned the empty break room. The cheerful motivational posters on the wall suddenly felt more mocking inspirational. Whatâs going to happen to me..?
Barb reentered with a practiced calm demeanor, but my stomach dropped when I spotted the dusty folder tucked under her arm. Then I saw it. The unmistakable pastel edge of a pull-up peeking from beneath the folderâs edge. Barbâs voice was soft but deliberate. "Lena, sweetheart, I need you to breathe with me for a second." She set the folder down, revealing the training pants fully. "I think there might have been a⊠classification oversight."
My eyes widened in disbelief.
"N-no, that can't be right," I stammered. My voice sounded embarrassingly high-pitched. "I was cleared Neutral eight weeks ago. I did passed all my tests, did bloodwork, cognitive mapping, and everything.." Barb gave me a sympathetic smile, but shook her head. "Policy's clear as spring water, honey."
She flipped to a page in the dusty folder titled "Misclassified Employee Policy", and handed it to me. She awkwardly unfolded the pullup while reciting the policy verbatim:
"When involuntary bladder release accompanies emotional dysregulation episodes following a post-neutral classification, the employer is required by law to request a reassessment" She tapped the middle of the page. "Section C: The employee's parents or legal guardians must be contacted so that they can initiate the employee's reassessment. Failure to comply may result in the employer being fined up to $750,000 per violation. Employee may be eligible for re-hire if the following conditions are met.
A) The reassessment yeilds the same, or better results. B) The reassessment is completed within 3 calendar weeks of the employee's tentitive termination date"
She handed me the prepared pullup expectantly.
"Your mother's already been called by the other receptionist you met earlier. She'll be here soon".
I stared at the pull-up, cheeks burning. It pale pink with childish stars printed on the front and hearts dotting the waistband. Jerking my gaze back up to Barb's face, a pleading look in my eyes.
"I-I can't wear this," I blurted out, voice breaking slightly. "There must have been a mistake. I'm not- I didn't- " The words tangled in my throat, not knowing what to say. The dampness clinging to my thighs felt suddenly more uncomfortable. It was becoming increasingly itchy, and hard to concentrate on forming well articulated sentences.
Barb exhaled slowly, like sheâd rehearsed this moment a hundred times. "Sweetheart, look at me." Her tone still calm and patient "This isnât a punishment, Itâs protocol. We have to assume.. well, we just have to be safe for now, okay?"
A knock at the door made us both jump. Lindaâs voice floated through sounding oddly gentle. "Barb? Lenaâs momâs here. Sheâs in your office with the paperwork." The word paperwork landed like a brick. My stomach twisted. What paperwork?
Barb squeezed my shoulder before standing. "Iâll be right back. You change into those, and weâll get this sorted." The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the pastel humiliation on the table. I picked it up between thumb and forefinger as if it might bite me. Feeling defiant now, I contemplated my options.
No. I'm not going to wear it. I don't need it. I'll just explain when they get back.. somehow..
I desperately looked around the room, searching for somewhere I could hide the pullup. Minutes passed, but every time I decided on a spot I noticed something that would give me away. Panicing again now, I went back to the couches. Maybe I'll just shove it between the cushions?
The knock came too soon; Three soft raps upon the door. With no time to shove it between the cushions, I hastily hid the pullup beneath the branded rec-center pillow on the couch across from me before Barb re-entered the room. She looked at me panting, and I could tell she knew. Her eyes immediately darted to the pillow. In my haste, I failed to realize that the pillow was upside down, and that the waistband was still slightly visible.
"Lena.." Barb sighed, rubbing her temples.â
I tensed up, trying to will my face into the blankest expression I could muster. "W-What?" I asked unconvincingly.
Barb didn't even blink. She just reached down and moved the pillow, revealing the badly hidden pullup. I blushed a deep shade of pink. Not knowing how to react, I looked away, staring intently at the magnets on the fridge. "Lena.. I know this has been upsetting for youâ She sounded more exhausted than angry."
Still looking at the magnets, I racked my brains for something, anything that could get me out of this situation.
"I- I- I think there's been a misunderstanding," I blurted, scrambling to fill the silence. "M-maybe it was just.. s-sweat?â
Barb didn't dignify that with a response. She just sighed, picked up the pull-up with one hand, and grabbed my wrist with the other. Her grip was firm but not unkind; The way you'd guide a toddler across a busy street.
"Noo! Pleeeease!" I squealed, trying to twist away, but to no avail. Before I could protest further, she'd already hooked her thumbs under the waistband of my soaked pants and underwear, pulling the soaked fabric off of me.
Shocked by the suddenness of my lower half being undressed, I allowed myself to be laid down upon the couch.
I winced; The wet wipe felt icy cold against my skin, like a reverse branding iron. Barb quickly & clumsily wiped me down, clearly not used to this task being part of her job description. Ignoring my whimpering protests, she finished wiping down the inside of my thighs, and then re-fluffed the pullup once more. I closed my eyes shut tight, cringing as Barb worked the childish garment up my trembling legs.
The pullup settled into place snugly around my hips with a soft crinkle that made my stomach turn. Barb straightened, exhaling through her nose and dusting off her hands like she'd just finished assembling a couch from Ikea.
"There," she said with satisfaction, helping me sit back up. My cheeks were so hot felt like they were on fire. "All set. Now let's get y- "
The door creaked open before Barb could finish her sentence. Linda entered the room followed by Hannahâs mother Claire, her face etched with concern; The same expression she wore the last time I'd woken up with wet sheets. Her eyes flickered downward for the briefest moment, and I knew she'd seen. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I was somewhere, anywhere else.
"Oh Lena.." I heard her say softly, sitting next to me with outstretched arms. I stiffened as I felt her sit, but she pulled me into a tender hug anyway, her floral perfume thick in my nostrils. "We'll figure this out, okay? You're okay, and everything is going to be alright". Her fingers brushed the waistband of the pullup as she adjusted my shirt, and I wanted to melt into the floor.
She took both my hands in hers revealing my tear stained cheeks, and helped bring me to my feet, wiping the tears from my eyes with her sleeve. Once I was standing she hugged me properly once again.
Barb's eyes locked with Claire's over the top of Lena's trembling shoulders, a glance that carried entire paragraphs in its silence. Claire gave the slightest nod, her grip tightening briefly around me before pulling back just enough to whisper in my ear before addressing the other woman "I brought some pants for you, just grab them from my bag. I'll only be a minute okay?" I nodded.
"Barbra Franklin," Barb said with crisp professionalism, extending her free hand toward Claire. "And I'm assuming you must be Lena's mother?" Taking her hand, Claire replied "I'm actually just her guardian. Claire Davies, nice to meet you."
"Likewise, likewise." Barb agreed. "All the release paperwork is completed and is at your workstation. Linda had me take care of that quickly when I arrived" Barb nodded appreciatively "Excellent. So just to confirm⊠You've provided all three signatures, the incident report initial, the temporary classification waiver, aaaandâŠ" Her gaze flicked upward for half a second as she scanned her memory "The company's tentative liability release?".
Claire nodded "All signed and accounted for".
Satisfied that her obligations had all been met, Barb nodded back. "Seems like everything's in order then! I have to get back to the front desk, but please allow me to see you out".
Claire's fingers locked between mine as Barb ushered us toward the exit, her grip warm and steady. The walk from the break room felt even longer than the walk to the break room. Every step I took produced a slight, but unmistakable crinkling sound from beneath the replacement pants Claire had brought for me.
I looked around nervously, hoping none of the rec-center patrons could hear. Barb held the front door open with an exaggerated cheerfulness. "You take care now, Lena!" she chirped, patting my shoulder like I was a kindergartener being bid farewell for summer vacation. "I'm sure we'll be seeing you again very soon!"
Claire's phone chimed just as we reached the parking lot. She glanced at the screen, then hesitated. "That was Dr. Halvern's office," she explained cautiously. "They can see you tomorrow morning at 9AM for reassessment." Her words hung heavy in the air. Tomorrow.
I wanted to take a try a story inspired by the classified universe as well because it hits very close to home. @destinedfordiapers' character Sammy has always been a relatable favorite of mine, and I'm also really enjoying @josies-corner's "A Rose By Any Other Name" so go read those if you haven't already!
The sky glowed a deep midnight blue as the summer sun finished setting. The night was calm and silent except for the hum of the crickets outside. A warm breeze gently drifted through the open window of our shared bedroom; The kind of breeze that just seems to invite deep conversations with your best friend that, more often than not, last well into the morning. The movie we'd been watching on Hannah's TV played indifferently in the background, long forgotten.
Neither of us could not focus on any kind of plotline or follow the story at all, no matter how exciting. How could we? The prospect of receiving our test results in the mail tomorrow morning dwarfed anything the movie was capable of making us feel. If you remember how it felt the night before your birthday as a kid, it feels kind of like that, but with a hint of anxiety. At least, that's how it felt for me anyway.
"I feel like I messed up the mental evaluation test, I was soooo busy studying for the written portion that I totally forgot about the one on ones with the shrink. I probably seemed so distant, he probably put me down as displaying neutral tendencies!"
I felt a pang of annoyance, but said nothing as Hannah yammered about her evaluations for the what felt like the millionth time that summer. Her and her family have done so much for me in the past 3 years, and I didn't want to give them any trouble, regardless of how many times I heard Hannah fret about it.
Back when we'd just graduated highschool, I wanted to hang out with Hannah and some other friends at the afterparty but my dad had work at the crack of dawn so he had to get going, and since dad was going that meant mom was going too. Normally they were fairly strict with me staying alone at these kinds of things, but they surprised me, saying I should to stay and make the memories that would last me a lifetime.
I ended up sleeping over at Hannah's that night, and when I awoke in the morning it was not to the sound of my alarm. It was still dark and I was shaken gently awake by Hannah's mother, Claire. I remember following her to the living room where she turned on a lamp, and gestured for me to sit next to her on the couch. She then carefully broke the news to me that a drunk graduate from my class who'd skipped the afterparty was doing double the speed limit in his brand new graduation gift ignored the stop sign, and hit my parents sedan. It still hurts to say to this day, but they didn't make it.
I don't know how Claire broke that to me gently, but she somehow did. Obviously I was still distraught, but it could have been so much worse. Before I knew it, she'd given me a hug, and a cup of soothing chamomile tea with a bit of honey. I don't remember getting myself back to bed, or much about the rest of the day to be honest, but I woke up the late in the afternoon tucked into the bed on the bottom bunk, which was my default spot whenever I stayed the night. Little did I know that I'd still be sleeping in that same bed three years later.
Hannah and I had been in and out of each others houses for years at that point. Often enough that we might as well have had two homes. Anyone outside the situation would assume, but I was still shocked when Hannah's parents invited me that same afternoon to live with their family while Aly and I completed our post secondary studies for the next 3-4 years. From that day onward, they treated me like I was their own daughter.
That brings us to today. We'd both finished our third year in mid June, and we'd been hoping all summer we'd be eligible for the fourth, and final year of the placement program. Truthfully it was mainly Hannah who was wanting to take the fourth year, but I wasn't so sure myself.
To make a long story short, here's a summary of the 12 page document they send everyone upon enrollment in the program.
During our schooling, we prepare for a series of scientifically crafted tests at the end of the third year which will determine how we will proceed.
The reason this system is in place is because people in the pre-little stage are all different. While some regress hard and fast, others regress slowly and take a while to display symptoms, and still others might experience a mix of symptoms.
This impacts society because unclassified littles may make mistakes that can have anywhere from minor to major concequences based on the adult role they find themselves struggling to keep up with. They might hurt themselves or others in the workplace, behave inappropriately or disruptuvely, etc.
There are three possible results that exist, with an predicted accuracy rating of 99.32% based on an average of all test results. This helps ensure that families and littles have more time to adjust to natural regression that is on a somewhat unpredictable timescale depending on the person.
CAREGIVER:
To take the fourth year, you had to achieve the classification of caregiver. At year three caregiver classifications are offical, but there are a few restrictions as the caregivers are still novices. You rid yourself of novice status by adopting a little and completing the final year of schooling. Luckily the schooling is less frequent in year 4 so novice caregivers may look after their little adequetly while completing the program.
NEUTRAL:
If you were classified as neutral, it means you are fit to go out into the broader world and pursue any career you put in the work to become competent at. You may or may not require additional training, but these individuals are not generally suited for long term caregiving for a variety of reasons. This does not exclude them from temporary supervision of a little. (Little supervisation specialist, or "babysitter" is a common career path for many neutral graduates).
LITTLE:
If you were classified as a little, it means you are not fit to go out into the broader world without supervision from an adult. This is for the little's own safety due to the changes littles experience after their classification. They may only work a select few "safe" jobs part-time, under special circumstances (this clause is currently under scrutiny & may be revoked for the safety of littles & the productivity of non-little employees in the workplace)
Hannah was somehow scared she wasn't going to be classified as a caregiver. It's what she'd always wanted and been working towards so I understand being nervous, but I personally thought she was just comparing herself with her mother. Hannah usually got between 93-99% on past exams, but she was still convinced she somehow managed to bomb the final evaluations.
I was pretty sure I was going to be classified as Neutral. As fulfilling as being a caregiver sounded, it also seemed very overwhelming and time consuming. It's a big responsibility to have, and it's not a role that can be taken lightly.
Then again, the prospect of working a normal 9 to 5 job was daunting in its own right. Every career path always seemed to be incredibly complicated, unreasonable, stressful, or demanding, and I didn't really want to do anything that would be considered a normal career. I wanted a career that was.. well, something that was fun.
"I'll probably end up working as a waitress for the rest of my life.."
Three years. I could hardly believe it had already come and gone that quickly. Hannah
PART 1: Officially Classified As..
The fog was so thick that I couldn't see more than a few feet in any direction on my way to the university. I gratefully followed our shortcut's well worn trail through the forest that was on campus. It was oddly quiet, like when a fresh snowfall mutes the surrounding area.
Every footstep I took pierced the silence; twigs and leaves occasionally snapping or crunching with a clarity of detail that was often lost on a such a noisy world. A gentle trickling sound slowly became noticable as I continued to walk. Puzzled, I looked around, tried to identify the source of the sound.
I spotted a small river a bit off the path, and wondered how I'd never noticed it there in the three full years Hannah and I had been using the shortcut.
Turning slightly off the path, I began to walk alongside the river instead, appreciating the rhythm and beauty of the flowing water and wondered how I could possibly have been so unobservant before now.
An indistinct but deafening noise suddenly distracted me from the river and I tripped over an exposed root that protruded from the ground, stumbling to regain my balance. I overcompensated and fell head first toward the river. I saw my face's distorted reflection in the reflection of the flowing water and braced myself
I woke up with a jolt. Hannah had unceremoniously shaken me awake, and was now jumping up and down, squealing with joy.
"I've been classified as a Caregiver Lena! I'm actually a caregiver!! I was so worried oh my god!! You were right Lena, I really could have just relaxed all summer!"
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I nodded my head in a supportive gesture and clapped lightly, still laying comfortably in the position I woke up in.
"Oh my god I'm so rude I'm sorry, here's your letter. I couldn't wait to open mine, but at least we can be together to celebrate yours now!"
I rolled my eyes, taking the letter from her outstretched hand. "I'm going to get neutral Han, there's nothing to celebrate. I don't mind though, I'm just happy that you got what you worked so hard for. If anyone deserves it, it's you."
Hannah smiled broadly, and turned away trying, and failing to hide the fact that she was tearing up. Turning back after a moment she said.
"You're a good friend Lena. I know you're not really sure what you want to do quite yet, but Neutrals can do literally anything! And if you get assigned caregiver, you can always rescind your status and default back to neutral."
I smiled in reply, unsure how to respond in a way that didn't sound overly pessimistic. Still laying down, I clumsily began to open the letter with my fingers, seeing Hannah cringe out of the corner of my eye as I did. Ignoring her reaction, I continued until the piece of mail slid through the now mangled top of the envalope. I knew what the letter was going to say before I opened it. As I unfolded the letter Hannah said quickly
" Maybe you should at least sit up, it'll feel like more fun!"
Begrudgingly humoring her, I placed the still folded letter on my bedside table and began to sit up, but faltered, still hidden beneath my fluffly blanket. Something wasn't right.. My legs felt.. cold?
"What's wrong? I know classification letters are nerve wracking but you have to see the results sometime!"
Hannah, sensing now that something was wrong leaned in on the bed to look at me more closely, concern in her eyes.
"Are you okay Lena? You seem like you're somewhere el..
Hannah let her words trail off, carefully lifting herself off of the bed. A patchy, yellowish wet spot that was vaguely shaped like Hannah's hand had seeped through the fluffly blankets and become visible to both of us.
My eyes widened in horror as I finally understood why I was cold.
"It was probably just the stress!"
Hannah reassured hastily in reply to the expression on my face. She said it with just a little too much enthusiasm, trying desperately not to imply what we both immediately feared.
One of the first courses we took at university was Physiology & Psychology of Littles: 101. It explained everything that pre-classified littles may experience before and after their classification, with bedwetting or thumb sucking being the most common early indicators.
I'd already woken up wet twice this year, but it had been easy to write them off. The first time I'd been drinking with some friends and woke up with a little wet spot that had soaked into their couch, which I had hastily covered and hoped people would assume was a spilled drink.
The other time was just a random night a few months ago, which Hannah had convinced me was purely caused by the stress of exams.
This third time seemed a lot more real, amplified by the unrevealed results of my classification letter. Hannah looked me in the eyes, and ignoring the current state of my bedding she asked cautiously,
"Would it be easier for me to read your results and let you know..?"
Emotion was swelling up within me. My life might be about to change forever. I nodded my head quickly, looking away and closing my eyes tight; begging the universe to spare me from what I feared the letter would say.
Hannah began to read aloud, clearly and deliberately:
Dear Ms. Smith, we are pleased to inform you that your classification has been officially codified. Please see below for your updated information. Your existing ID card will be updated & mailed to your current address.
Name: LENA SMITH
Age: 21
Official Classification: NEUTRAL
Age of Majority: CONFIRMED
I let out a sigh of extreme relief as Hannah jumped up and down for me, almost as relieved as I was.
"Thank god. The bedwetting was just the stress after all" she said confidently.
I nodded my head in agreement, relieved but now slightly frustrated and embarrassed again because my bed was still soaked. Hoping for some privacy, I told Hannah timidly
"I'm just going to.. um.. clean up, but did you wanna meet me at the cafe in an hour and we can celebrate with an overpriced breakfast?
Taking the hint, Hannah agreed and left, closing thd door behind her. I waited a few minutes until I heard her leave the house, then I stripped the blankets and sheets off the bed and ran to the washroom to throw them into the laundry. I then quickly hopped in the shower, and finished getting myself ready for the day.
I thought to myself as I locked the front door 45 minutes later "It's been an annoying morning so far but I guess I should count myself lucky I'm not on my way to Littles R Us right now.."
cant decide whats more embarassing.. having a strong urge out of nowhere and being unable to hold it back, or to feel something but be unsure if it was an accident or not
be honest, how many days a week do you either wet the bed or have a daytime accident without realizing it? and do you do any #2?
um.. its most days now >/////< i usually wake up at least a little bit wet and in the day i mostly know when i need to go potty but my body is only telling me when im just about to have an accident. i dont really notice a need to pee getting stronger until it hits me and.. i usually cant hold it for more than a few seconds :$
it doesnt happen alot much but ..i can sometimes have accidents without noticing because i get distracted pretty easy and whatever im doing or thinking about uses all my brainpower so i dont really notice myself letting go
i dont do any number 2! i can use the potty for that :)
i thought the family reunion went really good until we were leaving when i overheard my aunts gossiping in the living room. i guess they had too much wine or somethn because they were loud whispering and it was easy to hear they were talking about my "special underwear" and trying to guess why i was wearing them
how how howwww did this even happen?!?!! i was SUPER careful and did everything i could to hide my pullies.. even wore panties over them PLUS a high waisted pair of jeans ??? H O W?
im going to die i can never show my face there again đđđđ
times like this makes me really wish i had my bladder control back .. :(
soo.. apparently they were talking about my bra which is a HUGEEE relief. found out because my mom jokingly said "what, no lingere today?" and when i was like ??? she said my aunts (who are all over 60) noticed my shirt was a bit see through and were poking fun at me (i wasnt even wearing a fancy bra they are just oldd ..)
bu i literally just heard them say "special underwear" and questioning tones but my panic mode brain didnt actually listen to the words they were saying so i freaked out and almost gave myself away for nothing đ„Čđ„Čđ„Č
i thought the family reunion went really good until we were leaving when i overheard my aunts gossiping in the living room. i guess they had too much wine or somethn because they were loud whispering and it was easy to hear they were talking about my "special underwear" and trying to guess why i was wearing them
how how howwww did this even happen?!?!! i was SUPER careful and did everything i could to hide my pullies.. even wore panties over them PLUS a high waisted pair of jeans ??? H O W?
im going to die i can never show my face there again đđđđ
times like this makes me really wish i had my bladder control back .. :(
This caption was written withâand of course featuresâthe amazingly talented @prettymuchpottytrained02. Such a cutie.
A mobile slowly spins above her crib, barely visible in the soft, warm glow of the nightlight.
Dreamy, delicate melodies of long-forgotten nursery rhymes drift from the antique music box in the corner of the nursery.
None of this made any difference to the sole occupant of the nursery.
Peanut glared at the mobile, her binkie bobbing furiously in her mouth. She dramatically kicked off her blankets in a fit of frustration at the muffled cheers invading her nursery.
It wasnât fair!
All she wanted was to stay up one nightâone night!âpast her bedtime to watch the big football game with Daddy and his friends!
It was her team, too! Daddy knew how excited she was about the game.
She ruminated about how she used every tool in her arsenal to soften Daddy up over the last week. How she went to bed every night without a fuss. Gave him her best puppy-dog eyes each morning when she lay in his lap, suckling her baba.
She even picked up all the toys scattered around her nursery without Daddy asking! Daddyâs perfect angel.
Just to end up in her crib at bedtime.
Another chorus of cheers interrupted the tranquility of her nursery. She kicked her legs at the injustice of it all.
The sudden movement, so similar to the bicycle kicks Daddy insists on whenever her tummy is full of bubbles, results in a stream of toots.
âHmpff,â she pouted, even angrier that her outburst backfired.
She folded her arms, resigned to her fate, until an idea struck her. A smirk grew behind her binky.
If Daddy wouldnât let her watch the game, then she wouldnât let him watch, either.
Grabbing the bars of her crib, she pulled herself to her knees. Her diapered bum floating just above her toes.
The perfect position to fill her diaper.
A series of tiny grunts and ragged breaths filled the room as she pushed, determined to load her diaper.
Her only progress after a few minutes of effort was a single, terrifying toot so loud it must have been heard in the other room.
Red-faced, frustrated, and out of breath, she throws herself flat on her back. Why was it so hard? She never has to try! Most of the time, she doesnât know sheâs pooping until her diaper gets heavy!
Lost in thought, she unconsciously fiddles with her feet, pulling them close to her face.
Suddenly, everyone in the other room cheers in unison, startling her. Before Peanut can react, her diaper crinkles softly as it expands. She reflexively grunts as her body takes over, pushing more mess into her diaper.
Peanut pulls her feet closer, unaware sheâs loading her diaper.
By the time she realizes sheâs pooping, sheâs almost done. Her diaper was already bulging to accommodate its burden. She giggles in between grunts.
Mission accomplished.
She sits up, giggling harder as the mess spreads even more. Usually, sheâd avoid mushing her mess, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
As she reaches for the latch to escape her crib, she notices her favorite stuffie watching her.
Judging her.
âDonâ judth me, Dithon,â she lisps through her paci, âDada thtarted it!â
The enormity of Peanutâs mess is immediately obvious the moment she steps out of her crib; her diaper droops dangerously as she waddles to the door. Her shirt is far too short to cover her diaper.
Had she been less stubborn she would at least have the onesie Daddy got her for the game to support and concealâwell, at least coverâher diaper.
But no, she had to be fussy and reject it.
It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light, though she waddles on anyway, making her way to noise down the hall, thankful it drowned out her crinkles.
She reaches the end of the hallway, heart beating fast. Not only is she not supposed to be out of bed, she isnât particularly keen on being seen in a diaper this messy.
No matter how many times sheâs been around Daddyâs friends, how many times heâs loudly announced she needed a change, how many times heâs marched her to another room for a diaper change, she still squirms being in a full diaper around them.
She quickly peeks around the corner to find Daddy and get his attention without his friends noticing. To her horror, Daddyâs friend Bailey happened to be looking right at her. She tried to hide, hoping she wasnât seen.
âWas that you, little one? Did I see a peeking Peanut just now?â
Peanut doesnât move. Maybe Bailey will think she was seeing things.
âI did see a peeking Peanut!â Bailey coos, finding Peanut âEverything okay, honey? Daddy put you to bed an hour ago.â
Bailey looks down at Peanutâs droopy diaper.
Unable to meet Baileyâs eyes, Peanut stares at the hardwood floor.
âOh, poor baby, I bet that diaper doesnât feel very good, huh? Come on, honey, letâs go find your Daddy.â
âMâŠm-bu,â Peanut mumbles, eyes wide at Baileyâs suggestion.
âHush, honey,â Bailey soothed the poor girl, wrapping her in a hug and gently patting her diaper, âWe need to get you out of that diaper before we have a blowout on our hands.â
A hand guides Peanut forward, out of the safety of the hallway and into the living room. She feels the eyes of everyone in the room on herâand her diaper.
âUh oh, looks like somebody needs a change!â Jane, another of Daddyâs friends, says.
âYou can say that again, poor thing. Anyone know where her Daddy is?â
âHe just went to the bathroom, Iâll go get him,â Larry says.
A silence that lasts an eternity overtakes the room. Peanut tries to avoid eye contact and pretend everyone is watching the game and not the helpless baby in a poopy diaper.
âPeanut, what are you doing out of bed, hmmm?â Daddy asks as he walks over to his little one, âI was just about to check on you.â
Peanut feels Bailey pat her diaper. âProbably has something to do with this.â
The others in the room groan at the game.
âOh, Peanut,â Daddy says distractedly, watching the game, âIâll change you after this drive, okay?â
âNo, no, no, look at her!â Bailey chastised Daddy, âHer diaper is about to fall off!â
Jane stands up, giving Daddy the evil eye before turning to Peanut, âDonât worry little one, we wonât make you wait. Where are your diapers, sweetie?â
Peanutâs binkie bobs a bit more. âUmmmâŠmânurswy.â
âHoney, youâre lucky your diaper hasnât fallen off already. That wonât make it down the hall,â Bailey insisted, âIâll get you out of that icky diaper right here, okay? Doesnât a clean diapie sound nice?â
This was not the plan.
The plan was for Daddy to change her diaper in the nurseryânot getting her diaper changed by Bailey right here in front of everyone!
Bailey kneels in front of Peanut with the diaper bag, looking deep into her eyes. âYou have nothing to be embarrassed about, little one. Itâs just a poopy diapie. Will you let us get that tushie fresh and clean?â
âM-mhm.â
Bailey tickles her tummy. âGood girl! Your Daddy always brags about his brave little Peanut.â
Somehow, despite getting her poopy diaper changed right there in front of everyone, Peanut found herself loving the attention from Jane and Bailey.
Jane made the silliest faces playing peek-a-boo while Peanut giggled in utter delight whenever Bailey blew raspberries on her tummy.
By the time Bailey carefully rolled her messy diaper into a ball and slid a fresh diaper under her, Peanut could not care less about being changed in front of everyone.
Excited, incoherent babble serenaded the roomâthe sounds of a happy baby having the time of her life.
âThere, all clean!â Bailey said proudly, smoothing out the diaper and admiring her handiwork, âLetâs get you back to bed, cutie.â
âBu bu wa-wan play!â
âSorry, kiddo,â Bailey said with a twinge of disappointment, âAs much as Iâd love to play, itâs well past your bedtime.â
Just as Peanut was about to give up, Daddy walked over with a warm bottle of milk filled with vanilla, honey, and a dash of cinnamon.
âHow can I deny Bailey some quality time with my little Peanut after she wiped her tushie clean? Peanut, if you ask Bailey nicely, maybe sheâll let you sit on her lap and hold your baba for you while we finish the game. Would you like that?â
âYeth pwease, Dada! May I pwease Mith Baiwey? Pwetty pwease?â
âOf course, honey! Iâd love that!â
The last thing Peanut remembered was laying on Baileyâs lap suckling the warm milk from her baba, as Bailey smiled down at the baby with heavy eyes.
Her wet suckles continuing a few minutes after her eyes closed for the last time.
She didnât even stir when Daddyâs team won on a last second field goal.
Sammy couldnât decide if she was nervous or excited as Allie unbuckled her and was lifted out of her car seat. After the whirlwind of her life since her Classification, having a day to just relax and play seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.
Yet Sammy couldnât shake the nagging worry in the back of her mind that giving in and having fun would mean ending up like Hannah. Hannah wanted to go to college and be an elementary school teacher, so something must have happened between then and now for her to give up and embrace being just a Little.
Did Hannah willingly give up on her college dreamsâor was it out of her control, the regression taking the choice away from her?
It was a question that weighed heavily on Sammy ever since she met Hannah. Jane said Hannah wanted to go to college, just like Sammy. But Sammy couldnât accept being at the mercy of her regressionâthat meant Sammy was powerless to control her own destiny.
And Sammy was determined to make it to Stanford. She was in control of her destiny, not the regression. But if it was a choice, then why did Hannah choose this life?
And more importantly, if Sammy let go and enjoyed herself as a Little, would she inevitably give up too?
âOkay, diaper bag, swimsuits, wine, and towels,â Allie muttered to herself, as if she were reading a checklist.
Sammy reached for the towels. âI can help, Allie.â
âThanks, sweetie. Excited to go swimming?â
Sammy nodded, despite her reservations. This was the first time sheâd wear a swim diaper. There was something about swim diapers that seemed even more infantile than diapers. Not to mention the bright turquoise Little Mermaid swimsuit that Allie said was a âperfect 90s throwback.â
But at least she managed to convince Allie to let her wear an almost-adult pink sundress, though Allie insisted on Sammy wearing her pink princess diaper and bow to âcompleteâ the look.
They walked to the door, but before they rang the doorbell, the door swung open. Two men with golf clubs walked out.
âAllie? No way, how did I not realize you were the Alyssa everyone was talking about?â
âProbably all those concussions playing football at USC,â Allie taunts, giving the man a hug, âItâs great to see you again, Matt! I didnât know Linda would be here!â
Matt laughs. âYou too! Itâs been far too long,â he turns to the other man, âOh, where are my manners? This is Ron, Kendraâs husband.â
âNice to meet you, Alyssa,â he says.
âCall me Allie, any friend of Linda and Matt is a friend of mine.â
âAnd you must be Sammy,â Matt says to Sammy, âHannahâs been going on and on about her new friend!â
âH-hi,â Sammy responds sheepishly.
âWell, the girls are out back, Iâll show you in,â Ron offers, putting down his clubs.
Sammy follows everyone inside. The house is beautiful but full of reminders that two energetic Littles occupy it.
She hears Hannah before she sees her, loudly wondering when Sammy was going to arrive.
Ron opens the sliding glass door. âGuess whoâs here, princess?â
âSAMMY!!â
âWoah there, honey, no running in the house when you're all wet,â Ron says as he stops Hannah.
âHmpff. Fine. Then come outside, Sammy!â
âCalm down, squirt,â Jane teases, rubbing Hannahâs hair. âHey, Sammy! Hi, Miss Sammyâs caregiver!â
Sammy waves at them. âH-hi Hannah and Jane.â
Linda and Kendra catch up with Hannah, smiling at Sammy and Allie. Emily follows behind them.
âHi Sammy, that dress is adorable!â
âThank you, Miss Kendra.â
âGood to see you again, Alyssa,â Kendra says, offering Allie a glass of white wine. âLinda tells me youâve never turned down a glass of pinot grigio.â
âOh, she did?â Allie laughs.
Ron looks at his watch. âGotta run, our tee time is in 20 minutes! Have fun girls!â
âI swear those two live on the golf course,â Linda says as Ron leaves the house.
âWell, come on outside, girls, itâs a perfect day.â
Sammyâs jaw dropped when she saw the entire backyard. The pool was huge with a diving board and water slide, with cool floats scattered throughout. To the left was a covered patio with a TV, couches, a dining table, and a counter with a built-in grill and even a minifridge.
âThis is gorgeous. I could get used to this,â Allie jokes.
âWanna swim with us?â Jane asks Sammy, âEmily wants to play mermaids!â
âYEAH, wanna play mermaids Sammy?â Hannah echoes Jane.
Not even Sammy can turn down Mermaids, her favorite game growing up.
âI love mermaids!â Sammy says, feeling excited.
âWe gotta get you changed first, Sammy,â Allie interrupts, âUnless you want to swim in that dress?â
Sammy blushes.
âYou can change her in Hannahâs room, Allie. Second door on the right.â
Hannahâs room was an explosion of pink.
âDo you think she likes pink?â Allie asks Sammy when they get inside the room.
âI think even Barbie would say this is too pink.â
âYouâre not wrong. Letâs get you changed before I get a migraine.â
Allie lays Sammy on Hannahâs changing table and removes her diaper, plopping it into the diaper pail. She wipes Sammy clean and pulls out a swim diaper.
âNo tabs?â Sammy asks.
âOf course not. Itâs more like a pull-up.â
Sammy breathes a sigh of relief. âI thought it would be different. I can get used to this!â
âI bet you can, Sammy. But you got to be careful, they arenât designed to hold any liquid, so donât be sitting on any couches inside.â
âThey donât?â
Allie laughs. âWell, what do you think would happen if they did? Youâd soak up the whole pool! Theyâre just designed to hold solid messes.â
Sammyâs face flushed. Solid messes was somehow the most embarrassing way to phrase it.
âOh, th-that makes sense.â
With the swim diaper on, Allie lifts Sammy off the changing table. âArms up.â
Sammy lifts her arms as Allie pulls off her dress.
âI absolutely adore this swimsuit!â Allie says as she grabs it from her bag. âI love that the 90s are coming back.â
Allie slides the swimsuit on Sammy and takes a step back, taking in the entire ensemble.
âAhhh, I love it!â she squeals.
Sammy sees herself in a mirror. She would never admit it, but the swimsuit was pretty cool. Though it did little to hide the swim diaper peeking out of it.
âReady to go?â
âYeah!âÂ
At least nobody will tease her for diapers here. And besides, there are Mermaids to be played.
Sammy almost runs headfirst into Linda as she walks out the door.
âSorry, Miss Linda,â Sammy apologizes.
âYouâre okay, dear. My gosh, that swimsuit is adorable! I had one just like that when I was little!â
âRight?â Allie agrees, âSheâd fit right in at a pool party in 1995.â
âCome on, I haâoh noâŠâ Emily whimpers as a puddle forms at her feet.
âOh, sweetie, not again. Thatâs the second accident this week. First, the nap time accidents, now this?â
Emily covers her face, whimpering even more.
âNo need to cry, sweetie. Accidents happen. But I think itâs best we keep you in pull-ups for the rest of the day.â
âSorry, honey, but you got lucky having an accident on the tile. What if it was on Miss Kendraâs nice couch?â
âB-b-butâŠâ
Sammy canât help but pity Emily. It may be embarrassing to wear diapers, but having an accident like that on the floor of someoneâs house? Sammy shudders at the thought.
âDo you need any help, Linda?â Allie asks.
âNo, no. I got this. Weâll catch up after we get everything clean.â
âYay! Sammyâs ready! Come on, letâs go in!â Hannah shouts excitedly when she sees her walk outside.Â
âHold on, Sammy. We gotta get some sunscreen on you so you donât burn.â
Sammy pouts but follows Allie away from everyone. She reaches for the sunscreen.
âIâll do it, sweetie.â
âItâs not hard, I can handle it!â
âSorry, Sammy. Arms out.â
Allie sprays Sammy down with sunscreen, making sure she doesnât miss a spot. Sammy fusses the whole time, especially when Allie rubs the sunscreen on her face.
âHurry Miss Allie!â Hannah squeals excitedly, practically jumping in anticipation.
âThere, ready to swim,â Allie finally says.
Hannah grabs Sammyâs hand and pulls her to the pool.Â
âHannah! What did I say about being crazy by the pool?â Kendra scolds Hannah.
âSorryâŠâ
âNow girls, I want you both to stay in the shallow end. No deep end unless there is an adult in the pool with you. Got it?â
âIâŠI know how to swim, Miss Krendra,â Sammy says.
Kendra smiles. âIâm sure you can, little one, but rules are rules.â
âOkayâŠâ
âThank you, Sammy. Now, Jane, can I trust you to make sure they behave? Weâll be watching but youâre in charge of Hannah and Sammy.â
Jane puffs up at getting some responsibility. âYou can trust me!â
âAlright, show me you can be a big girl, honey.â
Jane walks over to Hannah and Sammy, putting out both hands for them to grab. âNo running, okay? We can go in the pool by the steps.â
Allieâs heart melts watching Sammy lead to the pool, hand in hand with her friends, diaper poking out of her ridiculously adorable swimsuit.Â
The water is warmer than Sammy expected, but still refreshing after being in the hot sun. She stepped down, lower and lower.
Hannah showed no such patience, jumping right in without a care in the world.
Sammy, meanwhile, was struggling with the idea of a swim diaper. It just felt wrong to wear a diaper in the pool.Â
This story was written withâand featuresâthe undeniably creative @prettymuchpottytrained02.
Kelsey practically vibrated in excitement as we turned the corner and the castle came into view.
Of all the stops on our Littlemoon, she was most excited to see Schloss Moyland, a castle in rural Germany near the Dutch border.
Something about the profound artwork of some artist. I donât know. I was just happy to see there was a beer garden.
The irony isnât lost on me. She may enjoy the sophistication of high art and culture, but sheâs the one transitioning into a Little.
Which is why weâre here.
Now that âtransitioningâ into a Little is commonplace, Littlemoons have exploded in popularity. Think âBabymoons,â where couples go on one last baby-free trip before they become parents.
Kelsey may be well into her transition, but sheâs still enough of a big girl to enjoy one last hurrah together as equals before sheâs my Little.
Well, as much of a big girl as possible under the circumstances.
She may act like a big girlâmost of the timeâbut that doesnât mean I trust her to keep her panties clean. Which is why sheâs safely taped into a diaper.
And why I packed her binkie in her diaper bag.
Just in case.
Still, I couldnât have dreamed of a better Littlemoon. Itâs gone better than I ever could have imagined.
Madrid was magical. Paris was every bit as romantic as I hoped. Amsterdam was perfect.
I expected Kelsey to struggle more than she has. She managed to maintain her big girl self the entire trip.
Well, at least in public.
She still enjoys cuddling with Dada, contentedly suckling on her baba in my lap before bedâand Iâd never turn down those special moments together.
Our car barely slowed to a stop before Kelsey opened the door and got out.
âDaâRyan come on!â she squealed impatiently.
I love the moments when she catches herself calling me Dada, not wanting to sound little.
Not when there is a castle to explore and art to analyzeâthatâs a big girl activity.
âHold your horses, Iâm coming. The castle has been here for hundreds of years; it wonât go anywhere in the next three minutes.â
She rolls her eyes.
Unless you knew about the thick, crinkly diaper Kelsey was hiding, youâd never know Kelsey was a Little.
She wore her favorite black dress today, no doubt wanting to look cultured while perusing the art gallery.
I didnât mention the change of clothes I brought just in case. Itâs my job to be prepared; all she needs to do is enjoy herself.
Kelsey grabs my hand, pulling me towards the entrance.
âHallo, herzlich willkommen im Schloss Moyland,â the man at the ticket window greets us.
âErmâŠHello,â I hesitate.
âOh, American! Welcome to the Museum Schloss Moyland. Tickets are 20 euros each, with full access to the gallery inside and the grounds.â
Everyone always knows weâre American right away.
âI saw online that Littles enter free, is that correct?â
Kelsey looks mutinous as the man looks her over, clearly doubting sheâs a Little.
âOh, sorry, weâre on our Littlemoon,â I add quickly, grabbing Kelseyâs passport, âHereâs her identification."
The man grabs her passport. When he sees the little teddy bear in the corner, he smiles, his suspicions gone.
âAh, yes. She may enter without charge. Our facilities are little-friendly, with diaper changing stations in every bathroom and a complimentary daycare service should you wish to enjoy the grounds and museum without worrying about your little one.â
âA daycare sounds great, doesnât it Kelsey?â I quip sarcastically.
I couldnât help myself. But if looks could kill, the one Kelsey shot me is potent enough to take down an entire army.
I hand the man 20 euros.
âOh, I almost forgot. Littles must wear these bracelets for easier identification.â
I can see Kelsey deciding whether itâs worth arguing. All she wants is to tour the the museum as an adultânot marked as a Little.
Kelsey huffs but sticks out her arm.
Her frustration melts away the moment we enter the castle.
The castle itself is stunning, the medieval space juxtaposed with dramatic pieces of modern art and amenities.
Before she darts off to the nearest display, I whisper, âMake sure you tell me if you need to use the potty, okay? I know youâre excited, but I want you to try and be a big girl.â
âIâm fine! Can we go now?â
Kelsey spends the next hour engrossed in the art gallery, giving me history lessons on the art and the artists.
For a moment, even I forget sheâs a Little.
âHow do you know all this?â I ask, amazed.
She smiles deviously. âWell, some people appreciate art and culture, you know. Not everyone wants to spend all day at the beer garden.â
Classic Kelsey. But sheâs not wrongâI have been counting the minutes until my first beer.
âYou know, if you werenât about to become Dadaâs unemployable little Peanut, you couldâve gotten a job here as a tour guide. And Iâll have you know that a good beer is also a work of art.â
âOh, ha ha. Youâre sooo funny. I may be a Little, but Iâll always be more mature than you, beer boy!â
Our laughter at her comment draws a condescending shush from a nearby employee.
âNow youâre getting us in trouble, Kels! Naughty girl!â
Kelsey eyes the employee, embarrassed for being shushed. âWhatever, letâs go to the hedge maze, we can do the second floor later.â
She doesnât need to tell me twice. Outside is one step closer to the beer garden.
âSure, but first Iâm going to need to check your diaper. Not one potty break in over an hour? Sus!â
Kelseyâs cheeks flush a deep red as she looks around.
âIâŠummmâŠI didnât have to go. Iâm fine!â
âKelsey, you drank that whole bottle of juice in the car. Did you have an accident?â
âI held it! Iâm a big girl, thank you very much!â
âSo, prove it. Be a big girl and let me check that diaper. If you have nothing to hide, why would you mind, hmmm?â
She looks around for a way out of the situation. When she finds nothing, she sighs.
âFineee.â
âGood girl, thank you for being mature like a big girl.â
âR-Ryan! She squeals as I lift her dress to check her diaper.
âOh hush, Peanut. Itâs just a diaper check. Not like people donât know youâre a Little with that wristband anyway.â
I run my finger through her diaper.
Sheâs soaked.
âLadybug, I thought you were going to tell me if you had to potty. Did you not know you had to go, or did you just not tell me?â
âMâŠM...M know butâŠbutâŠt-there was justâŠand thenâŠand and IâŠâ
I pull her into a hug, hoping to calm her own.
âItâs okay, Kelsey. Iâm not mad, I promise. You were just so excited, showing me all the exhibits.â
As much as Iâm looking forward to caring for her as my Little, today is supposed to be for Kelseyâthe big girl.
I sense her slipping into littlespace. I try to surreptitiously feel her diaper again. With any luck, she wonât need to be changed right away.
And maybe sheâll get back to normal if I take her upstairs and ask about her favorite art.
Her diaper is undeniably full, but she should be okay for another half hour. Hopefully. Plenty of time for her to compose herself before then.
âWhy donât we go upstairs, Kels? Youâve been hyping up the Joseph Beuys exhibit so much, I want to see what itâs all about!â
âO-okay,â she replies softly.
âSo, whatâs Joseph all about? Is he one of those modern, abstract painters who just puts random shapes and calls it deep?â
If I know anything about Kelsey, Itâs that she wonât stand for such slander. Surely those fighting words will snap her out of littlespace.
The good news is I was right. The bad news is I had to spend the next ten minutes being chastised for my âpedanticâ comment.
Totally worth it.
By the time we get to her favorite piece, sheâs become a de facto tour guide for a small group of tourists hanging on her every word.
She reveled in the attention, answering questions and pointing out hidden details not even the exhibit mentioned.
âThis,â Kelsey announces, pausing for dramatic effect, âIs what I consider to be his most important work.â
As she points it out, the crowd forms a semi-circle around her, listening intently.
I watch her intently myselfâbut right now Iâm not distracted by how grown up she is.
No, her stance draws me in. The subtle bouncing from foot to foot, her knees bending with every syllable.
I know what that means.
âIt is a profound introspection intoâŠumâŠi-intoâ
Oh no.
âKels, baby?â
I try to interveneâto stop her from whatâs about to happenâbut she pays no mind to me as I step towards her.Â
Sheâs lost in the textures and colors of the painting. Lost in explaining the message told in shapes.Â
Not in the message her tummy is telling her.Â
Kelsey stops midsentence as her knees bend, her eyes unfocused.
The tourists, momentarily expecting another dramatic reveal, take a step back when Kelsey grunts, her hands balling into fists.Â
She tries her hardest to prevent her âpotty faceâ from being noticeableâa tall task for someone like her. She tries to continue on with her lecture, but the tourists canât help but giggle now.
Sheâs too stubborn for her own good, exactly why we started her transition in the first place.
An ominous, foreboding toot echoes off the castle walls.
As the crowd realizes whatâs happening, a few of them give me sympathetic smiles. Others giggle to themselves as they trickle away to give the poor girl some faux sense of privacy as she loads her diaper.
Kelsey grunts again as she pushes, the smell of her mess now unmistakable. After a small eternity, I watch her now brown diaper droop below her dress.
She looks at me, eyes full of conflict.Â
My poor baby.
âR-RyanâŠâ
Her voice is barely noticeable now as she whimpers, fighting to stay bigâbut I hear the pain in the tone of her voice. That high pitch whine that always hurts my heart to hear.
I walk over to her, wrapping her in a hug, rubbing her back. âIâm here, baby. Dadaâs got you, little one.â
âW-why, why didnât you say something D-dada?â
There it is: Dada. The crack in her big girl façade. I sigh, squeezing her tightly as I help her stand upright.
âDada tried, baby. But there was nothing I could do to help. Youâre only little, itâs not your fault. You couldnât help it.â
âMâŠMâsorry, Dada.â
âDonât apologize, Ladybug, itâs just an accident. Why donât we get that diaper changed and try the maze?â
I feel her tense up from where sheâs cocooned into my chest, praying this isnât heading where I think it is.
âB-butâŠw-weâre not finished here!â Her voice raises a bit, causing passersbys to cast glances our way.
She always gets like this after a poopy diaper. It never fails.
I sigh, pinching my nose in frustration.Â
âI know, baby. What if came right back? Does that sound good? Youâll feel much better being all nice and clean.âÂ
Even as her eyes brim with tears, they gleam with an inner turmoil, somewhere between big and little. Between Kelsey and Dada's Little.
She sniffles and nods. âO-okay Dada.â
I sigh in relief.Â
That is, until she reaches for the diaper bag. I reflexively pull it away. She whines in confusion.
âD-dada. I hafta change!âÂ
âYes baby, Dada will get you all cleaned up so you can keep telling him about the pretty paintings.â
She takes my hand as I try to lead her towards the blinking green bathroom sign. But she doesnât budge, her feet firmly planted in place.
âI-IâŠMe changies mahself, Dada.â
I canât help but laugh. The way she said it. So matter-of-factly.Â
As if it were her decision.Â
âNo baby, youâre far too little to change your own diaper. Câmon, letâs go, Peanut.â
Wrong move.
Like the ancient ruins scattered across Europe, whatâs left of her big girl façade comes crumbling down around her.Â
âN-no! No no no!â
She stomps her feet, trying to tug her hand from my grasp. I feel the eyes of the gallery turn away from the paintingsâonto the spectacle of my tantruming little.
I gently tug her arm to get away from the onlookers to no avail; I only manage to make it worse.
In another fit of defiance, Kelsey throws herself on the ground, her messy diapered butt planting itself firmly on the centuries-old floor, squelching loudly.
If only the old royal court could see whatâs happening in their halls, hundreds of years later.
Her wails fill the room, her cheeks flooded with tears. The stress of the trip finally coming to a head.Â
All the glances, all the subtle comments, the laughter at her expense, the humiliation of not being big enough, finally breaking her delicate spirit.
Before I can say anything, a tall, gentle-looking man walks up to us. His smile is comforting, disarming. He doesnât flinch at her cries.
Doesnât flinch at the smell.
He places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it consolingly before squatting down to meet Kelsey at eye level.
Startled by his sudden appearance, her tantrum abruptly stops.Â
For a moment, he stares intently at the art behind Kelsey, before looking back at her.Â
âYou are quite right, Fraulein, this is Herr Beuys' most important work,â he muses. âI am glad you appreciate his work as much as I.â
**If youâre lucky, Part Two will be written by a far more talented ABDL writer. The Dumbledore to my Voldemort. We shall see.
Hello Tumblr! Last night my little one was cranky, and had a small tantrum while I had some of my girlfriends over. Needless to say she was put down for a nap afterward but it feels like she didnt really learn her lesson. She made a scene in front of my friends even though she wants to prove to everyone that she's a big girl. That's why I am making this post on her account today.
I am going to describe for you all exactly what happened last night so that you may all hear a first hand account of what happened from an adult. A real adult. Unlike a certain someone who's always trying to appear bigger than she is, not wanting to reveal the less glamourous parts of her littleness.
Lena, if you are reading this hello sweetie, I love you <3. You aren't in trouble, but you are not allowed to delete or edit this post & you must answer any questions the nice Tumblr people have about it honestly.
And now for story time! Please enjoy my perspective of what happened last night, and feel free to ask any questions you like!
I was watching a rom-com movie with a couple of the gals, and we had this delicious charcuterie sampler tray & a couple bottles of wine. We were all tipsy, laughing, and having a good time. About halfway through the movie, Lena comes out of her room more quietly than I've ever heard, clearly trying not to draw any attention to herself.
She tugs on my sleeve a bit and whispers to ask when we will be done our movie because she's excited to color with me, like I promised we would. I gently reminded her that we're going to color an hour after we're done the movie, not an hour before.
It's always so funny & cute how my little girl will often misunderstand what you say to her but won't ask for clarification because she desperately wants to "prove she's a big girl". I suppose she thinks that asking for clarification is something she should avoid; Her logic being that big girls just know everything somehow (adorable).
Anyways, after I said we'd be a bit longer before the movie is finished, Lena had another question. She asked me if she could have some juice too, having seen the wine on the coffee table. I explained to her that it is a special juice that only big girls can have, but that if she waited patiently I would pour her some apple juice to have while we did some coloring together. She stuck out her lip and looked at the floor stubbornly.
Normally apple juice would be something she'd be very happy about, but too many reminders of her ongoing little status had been brought to the forefront of her mind. Lena likes to delude herself that she is a big girl in most ways, but when she's presented with too much conflicting evidence the delusions begin to crack. What I said in reaction to her pout was the point of no return. I said verbatimâ
"Aw sweetheart, it seems someone is a little cranky. Do I need to get you into a fresh pullie?"And while asking, I reached out to check the leg-guard of her pullup.
In the span of a minute, Lena experienced:
being seperated from the adults initially, her little misunderstanding, being told to wait, tempted with a reward for good behaviour, denied an age restricted treat, plus an uninvited diaper check on top of everything else was too much.
She immediately began to whine, pulling away too late for me to not notice her pullup was soaked. Lena's overcompensation began immediately. She insisted she was a big girl and would tell me when she had to use the potty, and that she didn't need a change and she wanted the big girl juice, not the dumb baby apple juice!! "
When I patiently re-explained why she wasn't allowed to have the big girl juice, the tears began. Noticing the increase in volume, one of my friends suggested "Maybe you should put her down for a nap while we finish our movie".
This was a double whammy for Lena. Being talked about as if she wasn't there and the suggestion of naptime. Hearing what was said, Lena wailed even louder, and I agreed with my friend maybe this was for the best.
Taking my sobbing angel by the hand, I walked her back to her room, letting her weak pleading to not take a nap go unanswered. I closed the door behind us as we entered, and promptly removed Lena's skirt and sodden pullup, at which point she looked away in shame.
Cleaning her up quickly, I helped her thread her legs into the fresh pullup, and slid it up her legs so it fit snugly around her waist. I led her to her bed and tucked her in with a gentle kiss on the forehead & went back to finish the movie with my friends. It seems her little tantrum completely tired her out because I didn't hear anything from her room until 2 hours after my friends had left.
So tell me Tumblr, do you think Lena is a big girl?
wait nooo wha.. when did she .. đđ aaaiiieeeeeee đ„ș i cant- i didnt... i can explainnn!! this isnt fair she makes mee sound like a total baby >////////////////<
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