✅ The Last New Start [NaNoWriMo2021]

91. The Right Choice

"Do you need the bathroom?" Tess asked. She had seen Ffrances squirming a little, and realised that if depictions on TV were accurate, it was common that daycare staff would often have to remind toddlers to go. Needing help with something so basic could help her little sister to feel even littler than before. She wasn't sure exactly how far Ffrances wanted to take this regression, which was why she had to ask first. Hopefully it wouldn't spoil the illusion too much. "Do you need big sis to help you?"

"I umm..." Ffrances just blushed and looked down at her hands. "I'm little, I don't choose stuff. Maybe I don't know."

"Well then, I think you probably need some help, don't you? Sometimes little girls don't notice when they need to go potty until somebody asks, and then need somebody to hold their hand so they can get to the bathroom and help them sit on the toilet. Are you okay with being that little?" It seemed very intense, something that would be too much even for someone who wanted to be a little kid. And a very personal way to need help as well. Tess didn't want to push this one at all without at least a nod and a smile. Ffrances might have been nodding, but the gesture was almost too small to recognise. Too small for Tess to be sure, so she asked again: "Are you a toddler?"

Another tiny movement. Could have been nodding, or shaking her head. It was hard to tell. But Ffrances's lips were moving, and Tess thought she could make out the word "baby".

"Not a toddler, you're a baby?" she repeated it back, and the more words she said, the more emphatic the baby's nods became. "You mean you want to be even littler? You want to be a baby who's not old enough to go potty by herself? Who can't hold it at all, and can't help peeing as soon as she feels the urge, and relies on the grown-ups to change her diaper? You want me to make you have an accident?"

"If you want," Ffrances mumbled, still blushing. Her head bobbed too, in what could have been a nod. Tess didn't really understand; she knew that Ffrances wanted to be little, but she couldn't understand why anyone would want to go that far. But she wanted the baby to be happy. She didn't need to understand all the complicated grown-up thoughts.

"Well, you are that little," she said. Straight away she could see Ffrances's eyes widen, clearly surprised even when she'd asked for it. A faint hiss gave away that she was already peeing, just like a little baby. That innocent expression, carefree happiness, combined with her childish outfit made it even easier to think of her like a baby. It didn't matter how big they really were, Tess wanted to look after her little sister, and she felt like she was doing them well. She glanced at one of the gleaming baubles on the tree, and what she saw could easily have been the reflection of two real babies.

"Aww, did you have a little accident?" she chuckled, enjoying the feeling of being in control for a second. Then she pointed at the bauble; "See, you're a real baby now. Look in this mirror and you can see how tiny you are. You're just like a real baby, we both are. I mean–"

Tess hastily clarified the words in her head. She was just saying that they both looked like babies; she wasn't saying that she was small, just that she looked littler. And she certainly wasn't saying that she was little enough to follow any suggestion. She hadn't intended to, but she could already feel the little spark of imagination that made her feel so alive each time she said the magic words. She hadn't meant to say it, but she'd still said it, and she had imagined how it would feel for a fraction of a second; long enough for her subconscious mind to start filling in the details.

"I just look like it!" she gasped, as if saying the words aloud would make a difference to what some part of her mind had already decided. "I'm not that little. No! I didn't mean it like that, I'm not that little, I'm not!" But the panicked denial didn't make a bit of difference; the stream of words tumbled out of her mouth without any pause to think, repeating herself ineffectually as she felt the stream of pee running down her legs. There was nothing she could do now, no way she could stop it. And somehow this was even more shameful than wetting herself on the way to school, or that time in San Lorenzo, because she'd done it to herself. This wasn't just some accident, overestimating how long she could hold it, hearing something that was kind of similar to one of her triggers, or losing control in an over-emotional moment.