little Stevie!

ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ - ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ɢɪʀʟ

I walked forward towards the receptionists desk here at the hospital. I was at the specific classification department where a bunch of people my age strolled around getting ready to find out their very own classification. The whole place smelled sterilized and all the white around me made me feel clinically ill.

In my hands I held my classification letter I'd gotten in the mail the day before. It was crinkled and torn at the edges from how many times I'd read it yesterday.

There had to be a mistake, there is just no other explanation.

The lady clad in white hospital clothes, the name tag on her chest read out 'Ottelie', was sat behind the desk and finally looked up at me before she stopped writing on her computer to listen to me.

"Hello, dear, what can I help you with?" she asked with a soft smile as she brought some of her hair behind her ear, waiting for me to speak my mind.

"Yeah, hi - Ottelie," I said gesturing towards her name tag, and again she smiled as if to say 'go on say what you want to say'. "My name is Stevie Dahlia - and I got this in the mail yesterday. It says that I am classified as a little. Which I can't be. I am a dom."

I looked at her pointedly.

"Oh, let me see the letter, dear." she reached out and I gave her the white paper that held my entire future. She looked it over, reading a couple of things before she sighed out. "I am sorry miss, but this letter seems to be legitimate. You are indeed a little." again she smiled as I got my letter back - and I looked at her with drawn eyebrows.

She began typing on her computer again before asking. "Have you got any caregiver of your own available, Stevie?"

I was almost about to ignore her question, because it seemed absurd to me. I did not need a caregiver, at all. "Uh, no I do not." I answered anyway - feeling my anger rise more an more.

"Alright, then I am sure you know Stevie, that we have to provide you with one - and you'll be in custody of said caregiver for the next 6 months."

I crossed my arms together, trying to wrap my head around the situation. "Pardon me miss, but you're wrong. I am no little girl."

Ottilie tilted her head in empathy, before she looked me straight in my eyes. "Oh but you are, Miss Dahlia, and soon you'll understand that too." again she fiddled with her hair before she continuing. "Take a little seat over there, and in twenty minutes - your new caregiver will be here to pick you up."

I could feel my own dignity seep away from me as I simply walked away from the desk and sat down in the chair. I re-read the letter again as I had done oh so many times before. The words that haunted me clouded my mind.

"Stevie Dahlia, your official classification title is Little..."

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ...

I was sat with my leg crossed over the other - and I was fidgeting. Fidgeting because even though I consider myself as dominant as it can get, I can't help but to feel lost.

Lost because of how I don't know myself as a little - all my life I've only known myself as dominant. That's what I've been brought up as, that's what I've learned to accustom to - and what I will always feel the most comfortable as.

I don't judge someone because of their classification - because that's a part of them as a person and there is nothing to change about that, but to myself? I will judge myself as a little because it is not a part of my nature.

"Stevie Dahlia?"

I hear my name from a mans voice and when I look up I see him. His eyes are as glossily as pearls and his hair appears to be just as soft as cotton. He's sort of lanky - but very tall, surely very much taller then myself.

I sit up from the chair and look him dead in the eye. "I am she." I reply bluntly before crossing my arms slightly.

He reads me, I can tell by his searching eyes as he looks down upon me. I know he likes that I am shorter then he is - it gives him confident in his own dominance.

I can't blame him as he searches for dominance, as I myself is doing the same thing, purely wondering if I still have some.

"I'm Quentin Adler - you're new caregiver, Stevie." he gives a faint smile before he raises his finger, simply gesturing for me to come with him. We begin to walk and we walk all the way towards the parking lot. Every now and then he looks back to see if I'm following his lead - and I am embarrassed as I realize that I am indeed following him like a lost little puppy.

He stops slightly in front of a darkly green Porsche where he opens the door for me. I roll my eyes visibly before I walk around him and sit down in my seat.

He is suddenly leaning towards me and I realize that he is trying to fasten my seat belt. I am quick to take the belt in my own hands before I fasten it myself.

"I'm fully capable of finding the buckle myself, thank you."

Quentin chuckles before he steps out and just as he is about to shut my door he says, "Watch your little fingers, darling." and soon the door is shut with a bang.

A couple seconds later his car door opens and he sits down, fastening his own belt before he looks at me as he twist the car key. "Are you comfortable, little one?"

My eyebrows furrow and I sigh. "I am no ones little one, and I hope you know that."

new storyyy alert!!

be sure to give me some ideas for the story!! thank you<3

I love youuuu