Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
No one at the club had ever asked her many questions before. She was kind of a wallflower, which she didn’t mind. “I work at the supermart.”
“Oh. Are you a cashier?”
“No. I mostly stock. I usually work in the children’s department, making sure the aisle’s stay clear and well-stocked. I know where everything is, and we get a lot of repeat customers. Parents know they can ask me anything, and I’ll find it for them.” Mindy sat up taller, feeling proud of herself.
Tricia glanced up with another smile. “That must feel good.”
Mindy nodded. “Mostly it’s a boring job, but it pays the rent.”
“Where do you live?”
“In an apartment near the supermart. The rent isn’t too bad, and I can walk to work.”
“How do you get here?”
“I take the bus usually.”
“Do you live in your Little space when you’re at home?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“All the time?”
Mindy nodded, her face flushing again.
“Why does that embarrass you, Baby girl?”
Mindy shrugged. “Because I’m not actually a Baby. It’s probably not healthy how much time I spend in Little space. Sometimes it’s hard to transition when I have to go out or to work.”
“I don’t think it’s unhealthy, Mindy. It’s who you are. If you want to be Little most of the time, who’s to judge?”
Everyone?
“What if you could be Little all the time?”
Mindy glanced up as Tricia finished polishing her second set of nails. “That would be fun, but it’s not practical.”
“Maybe it is.”
Chapter Two
Mindy stared at Tricia for several seconds while the kind woman blew on her fingernails again, set them on her thigh, and screwed the lid back on the polish.
Wouldn’t it be cool if she never had to work and she could just be Little all the time? Ha. No sense entertaining that idea.
Mindy started squirming in her seat as she realized she needed to pee. “Uh oh,” she murmured.
“What’s the matter, Baby girl?”
“I need to go potty. I’m going to have to hold it until my nails get a bit dryer, or I’ll mess them up.” The thought of holding it made her need grow by the second.
“Why don’t I check to see if there’s a private nursery available. I could diaper you, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about messing up your nails,” Tricia declared as if this was the simplest solution in the world.
Mindy held her breath, staring at Tricia.
“Have you ever worn a diaper during age play, Baby girl?”
Mindy shook her head rapidly. She’d thought about it sometimes, but she’d never tried it. Diapering herself felt like a lower level of taboo than what she already had added gradually to her life.
Mindy had sippy cups, plastic plates, stuffies, the binky she pulled out only when she was really stressed, footed pjs, and cute clothes to wear to the club, but she’d never let herself go to the extreme of diapering herself.
“It’s hard to manage being that Little when you live alone, isn’t it?” Tricia suggested.
Mindy shrugged.
“You’re not alone tonight, Baby girl,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m here. You can be as Little as you want. Why don’t we get a private room where you can spend some time more fully regressed without having to worry about anyone or anything?”
Mindy considered Tricia’s suggestion for a few moments and then took a deep breath. She wanted to be brave. She wanted to do this. It didn’t have to mean anything. She could indulge her Little and remain inside her head, not letting it bother her that Tricia was a Mommy and not a Daddy.
“What do you say, Mindy?” Tricia encouraged.
“Okay, Ma’am.”
Tricia beamed. “Good girl. Can you sit right here without moving while I go check out a room?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Tricia rose and hurried across the daycare and out the door.
Mindy felt her panic rise as she waited. Was this a good idea? It was outside of her comfort zone. And why hadn’t a Daddy asked her to play at a younger age? That would be more appropriate than a Mommy.
She admonished herself silently as she waited. She knew in her head there was nothing wrong with doing a scene with a Mommy. It didn’t have to mean anything. It was just a scene. People in the club did scenes with same-sex partners all the time.
Besides, Mindy wasn’t judgmental. She didn’t care who anyone was attracted to. As long as it wasn’t herself. Doing a scene with a woman didn’t make her gay. Experimenting didn’t either. Everyone did it. Most of her friends did in high school.
She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the memory of her last fight with her mother. She’d been attending junior college, living at home, trying to be what her mother wanted her to be. She never drank or smoked or did drugs. She never got into trouble.
But that wasn’t enough for her mother. The woman had wanted her to date and find a husband. Mindy hadn’t been interested. It didn’t mean she never would be. It was just that she’d known she was Little for a few years by then. What man wanted to be with a woman who preferred to sleep in footed pajamas hugging a stuffed animal?