Michelle had come prepared for the accident–she just tried to act as though she hadn’t.

Her regression curse, cast upon Jamie with a simple incantation and a lock of his hair on the same day she’d met him, was a bit of home-brewed magic, and she hadn’t been certain how quickly it would work, but she’d been optimistic about its success and her hope had been rewarded. He’d had plenty of time for the magic to brew before their date, and a few carefully planted nudges–the whipped cream, the discussion of baby books, her efforts to ensure he wouldn’t have time to step into the bathroom–had all done their job perfectly.

The bag full of beach supplies provided a good explanation for why she had a large towel ready to lay down, spreading it over her passenger seat before Jamie got in. “See?” she declared, patting the seat. “No problem.”

Jamie held his arms over his chest, glancing around uncertainly. His pants were thoroughly soaked, and nothing he could do would hide that fact to passing strangers–he just felt thankful that nobody seemed to recognize him.

“I’ve got some clothes that should fit you, or we could go to a store somewhere and get you new pants,” Michelle added, prompting him a bit as she walked around the car. If he asked to be taken home, she wouldn’t have a good reason to say no, but if she prompted him with a binary choice, chances were good he would impulsively answer with an option she gave–and no matter what he picked, she would be happy.

Just as she’d predicted, Jamie nodded meekly, buckling himself in, eyes drifting to the wet stain over the crotch of his jeans. “Can we do your place? I don’t want to go out in…thanks.”

She smiled, patting him on the knee before she got the car moving. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Accidents happen, right?”

“I guess,” Jamie began. “But…”

He trailed off, and Michelle pushed a bit further–she didn’t want him to clam up. If things went her way, she’d eventually wear down any barriers between herself and his inner thoughts, she didn’t want him to close her off. “But what? Don’t worry, Jamie, I really don’t mind.”

“It just came out of nowhere,” Jamie admitted. “I don’t know. I’ve never lost control like that.”

“Well, there’s no sense in worrying about a fluke,” Michelle assured him. “Bodies are weird, okay? Don’t beat yourself up over one accident.”

They arrived at her apartment a little later. She half hoped that there would be someone else waiting for the elevator, so she could parade her soon-to-be Little in front of them, but she didn’t have that luck today. They got to her floor without interruption, and just like that, she had Jamie in her house, wearing–she hoped–his last ever pair of grown up underwear.

“Just wait here, I’ll get those clothes,” she promised, leaving him to blush and stand in place, fidgeting with his hands, unable to sit without staining her furniture.

Her living room was neat and decorated with an overthorough sense of order–she’d recently gone through spring cleaning, purging clutter. Michelle was no minimalist, but she wanted to make room for the inevitable play pen and stuffies that’d be littering the floor before long.

Retreating to her bedroom, she pulled a few tags off the new clothes and tucked a pacifier into the front pocket. Hastily looking them over for any obvious tells that they were new, she returned, a smooth lie at the ready as she justified the clothing choice. “My cousin came to visit with her Little recently, and he’s the same size as you–they left a couple things behind. Don’t worry, though, these should be totally discreet.”

That last part was even true, or at least true enough. She’d bought the clothes from a Little store, but specifically selected the outfit for this lie. The shortalls only seemed juvenile in that they were shortalls–no cute designs, no flowers, no crotch snaps–and if you couldn’t see the bottom, the onesie would just look like a normal shirt.

Holding up the clothes, she added, “Sorry I don’t have any boxers in your size–it’s these or panties, I’m afraid. Nobody will see–it’s just so you’ve got something on down there.”

Michelle would have been just as happy if he asked her to go get the panties. Again, she’d jumped ahead of his decision making, forcing a false binary on him so he wouldn’t suggest anything else. She’d learned the trick from a book on dealing with fussy toddlers, and it seemed to work on soon-to-be-Littles just as well.

He was hesitant, a blush spreading up his face, but she’d already primed him for this. ‘Nobody will see’. He reached out, accepting the pull-up, turning it over in his hand. She’d sized it right, and the princesses on the front were as cutesy and feminine as she could find.

“I guess…” he began, hand moving to his mouth. Michelle’s heart leapt, hoping he might start sucking his thumb right in front of her, but he just chewed on his nail instead. “I’ll just do the pull-ups.”

“Of course,” she said, handing him the stack of clothes. She wanted nothing more than to dress him up herself, rendering him cutesy and adorable and claiming him as hers, but for that, she could wait. “And just so you know–as far as I’m concerned, our date hasn’t ended yet. Since we had to leave the cafe early, how’d you feel about maybe turning on a movie?”

“Oh!” Jamie’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Yeah, that’d be really nice. Did you have something you wanted to watch?”

Michelle walked the verbal tightrope, aiming for suggestive without being too overt. “I don’t really care what’s on the TV,” she explained, leaving it to Jamie to guess what she did care about. “If you want some privacy, you can use my bathroom, okay?”

He nodded, face still full of blush, and followed her simple directions. When he locked himself in the bathroom to get changed, Michelle nearly squealed in glee. She’d chosen perfectly–Jamie wasn’t just adorable, his attitude would be perfect once he’d regressed a little more. It had taken a heroic amount of effort not to ask him about adoption paperwork right at the coffee shop, when he’d started talking about childhood books. Michelle hadn’t even done that much to plant the subject, just a well placed question!

She imagined him on the floor, asking for uppies or a diaper change, and her heart surged with excitement along with other parts of her body. She could be patient a little longer, but she wanted this boy.

The object of her desire returned, waddling out of the bathroom. Even in the unassuming Little clothes, Jamie was darling–bottom ever so slightly puffing from the ‘discreet’ pull-up, shortalls making him look round and juvenile in tiny ways. But, above all that, he had his thumb between his lips, suckling away with a distant look. Seeing that, Michelle nearly lost control of her facade.

She raised a hand to her mouth, eyes widening, and Jamie stared back at her. Only then did he look down and seem to notice, removing his thumb in a hurry.

“I–” he began, anxiety and fear building in his face. Not just embarrassment, but true worry.

“Oh, Jamie,” Michelle began. She wanted to give him a hug and whisper reassurances, but that would be too far.

He shook his head, eyes watering. “Michelle, I…I think there’s something wrong with me. Something really wrong.”

(Oh, to hell with it,) Michelle thought, stepping up to him and wrapping her arms around his body. He tensed, then melted into the hug, embracing her back.

“Don’t worry,” Michelle promised. “Whatever’s wrong, I’ll help, okay?”

“Okay,” he sniffled, squeezing a little tighter.

“Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”

Michelle knew then, there was no turning back. This boy was hers.

...

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