“Congratulations–I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Michelle’s promise was true, even as she hid a wash of emotions behind a smile, hoping that the cheer of the party would hide her jealousy. Candice deserved this as much as anyone, and Michelle wouldn’t spoil things for her friend even if the whole situation made her burn with envy.

Candice didn’t seem to notice any of the mixed feelings. The gifts in Michelle’s hands distracted her; while they were the same size, one box was wrapped in bright, colored paper, decorated with teddies and balloons, while the other was plain, tasteful, and held shut with only a black ribbon. It was the custom for Little Showers: One gift for the caregiver, the other for the newly Little.

“Thank you,” Candice replied, tucking her Little’s gift under one shoulder while she pulled at the ribbon on her own parcel. “I just can’t believe it–I’d just started looking for my own Little, and the perfect boy just about fell in my lap!”

“I’m so happy for you.” Michelle’s words came through tight lips–she’d wanted one for years, but nothing had worked. Personal ads got nothing, Mommy & Daddy sites only got her messages from people assuming she was Little, and good luck spells seemed only to impact those around her, never her. Three of her friends had ended up as caregivers–two of them were even at the party, sipping wine next to the refreshment table while their Littles played patty-cake in the corner.

Opening the gift, Candice’s smile grew–it was a digital display encased in purple plastic, speaker and microphone built into the base. “A baby monitor!”

“The camera is in your Little’s box,” Michelle explained, nodding to the other gift. “Just because he used to be grown up doesn’t mean he won’t need supervision, after all.”

“Oh, don’t I know it! It seems like I can hardly turn my back without my little Sammy getting into trouble–you’d think all he knows how to do is rub his diapers,” Candice laughed, and a few others within earshot joined in the good-natured chuckling. “Or, well–rub them and fill them, of course.”

As though on cue, the star of the party waddled into the room–slim and almost a foot taller than his new Mommy, Sam Franklin–that is, ‘Sammy’, now that he’d been adopted–looked positively adorable. A wet diaper sagged between his thighs, evidence of his recently-revoked potty train, and his T-shirt had a print of ‘Mommy’s Little Dump Truck’ on it, with a cartoon excavator below the letters.

It was bad form to ask what’d regressed him, but given his slight glower, Michelle guessed it hadn’t been by choice. Then again, maybe he was just cranky because he needed a change.

“Candice,” he mumbled. “Can I–”

“Mommy,” Candice corrected. “You know that, silly boy.”

“Mommy,” he said, nodding quickly. “Can I please just have a change?”

The new mommy beamed, and Sammy realized his mistake too late when she said, “Of course, sweetie! Just lie down, okay?”

“But–” Sammy began, eyes widening as he took in the number of guests. At least they weren’t friends of his, none of them had known Sammy when he’d been grown-up. “I–”

“You wanted a change,” Candice repeated. “So lie down.”

(Definitely not by choice,) Michelle thought, her jealousy tempered as she watched it.

This wasn’t what she wanted–a brat who’d argue, an involuntary Little who’d ended up that way by manipulation or magic or legal mandate. She wanted someone who’d accept her care. Part of her struggles with acquiring her own Little had come from her pickiness, wanting someone who’d fit her just right. If she simply put together a hex jar to sap away some unfortunate guy’s potty training and autonomy, then swooped in to adopt him, he’d resent her forever.

She wanted a boy who’d depend on her, and who’d thank her for the care she gave. A toy she could play with, certainly, someone she could show off to her friends, but if she had to argue with him, if he refused her instructions out of a misplaced sense of maturity, that’d spoil the fun.

So, while Candice forced Sammy to lay down and made a show of changing his diaper in front of everyone, Michelle sank back, debating whether she could leave the Little Shower early without it being a faux pas.

She wasn’t the only one standing back. The other Littles had turned to watch the show, giggling as Sammy fussed, but a young Daddy seemed almost as uncomfortable as Michelle felt. His own Little girl was clearly pleased with her lot–she didn’t cry or fuss except when she lost her favorite pacifier–and Michelle guessed he wasn’t thrilled about seeing a Little in distress.

Aside from him, only one other person was standing back–a young man with a bit of stubble and a rounded-off build. Physical features aside, he caught her attention for one reason: He had a thumb in his mouth.

It was only for a moment. He wasn’t sucking his thumb, Michelle realized, waving it off as a bit of wishful thinking that’d caused her to hallucinate what she’d wanted to see–he’d just had his thumb near his lips. A second later, though, her wishes were reignited as she caught him running the finger over his paper plate, picking up all the last remnants of frosting before sticking his thumb right back in his mouth, licking the sweet leftovers clean.

That gave Michelle an idea.

A wonderful idea.

She didn’t need to find a Little, and she didn’t need to hex someone to be against his nature. All she needed was to find the right boy, and give him the right push.

Walking up to the stranger, she opened her posture to him–not saying hello, waiting for him to greet her. The guy wiped his thumb off on a napkin, smiling at her. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering his dubiously-clean hand to shake. “I’m Jamie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie,” Michelle replied, sizing him up. He had brown hair that fell in subtle curls around his shoulders–probably going for a subtle ‘punk’ or ‘alternative’ look to match his leather jacket, but she saw the seed of adorable pigtails, or perhaps braids. His eyes were brown puddles, full of emotion and curiosity, the kind she’d expect from a poet or perhaps an explorative baby. “How do you know Candice?”

“Coworkers,” he explained, giving an obvious glance back at the snack table as he considered another slice of cake. “We’re both in sales.”

“Sales, hmm?” Michelle asked, moving to cut a slice and slide it onto his plate, curious how he’d react to being served. “You must be pretty persuasive, hmm?”

He didn’t even seem to notice, accepting her un-asked-for help with nothing except a smile at the sudden presence of cake. “You could say that.”

He was perfect.

“Well–oh, hold on,” Michelle started, reaching out, brushing the side of his jacket and pinching a hair between her fingers as she did. “You had frosting on your jacket, I didn’t want it to ruin the leather.”

“Oh, it’s faux-leather,” Jamie replied with a shrug. “But…thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied, pretending to reach for her phone to check the time while actually tucking the long strain of brown hair away so she couldn’t lose it.

Tilting his head, he asked, “What were you saying before? About being persuasive?”

“Oh, yes.” Michelle gave him a sultry smile. She had the plan, now she just needed the man. “Do you think you could persuade a girl to give you her phone number?”

...

Hey there! I'm trying out a new name - I'm keeping around 'Peculiar Changeling' as my screen name most places, but I want to run with 'Penn Canon' as the thing I put on my books and sign my work with and stuff! It just feels nicer as a Name, y'know?

Anyway, I hope you like this story - it's ten chapters, and it's completely written, so I'll be releasing it publicly over the next couple weeks. Expect a chapter every day or two.

If you want to support my writing, a couple bucks a month can really go a long way - and I offer a bunch of stories in early and exclusive access, plus discounts on commissions (like this one)!

-Penn

https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl

https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Written as a commission