Little Millie’s New Job 1
Millie was glad of the job offer.
At 21 years of age, four feet ten inches tall, and weighing about the same as a child of that size, Millie had found herself physically unsuited for most casual jobs. Bars and shop counters were too high for her to work behind; she looked too childish for people to take seriously; and on it went.
Yet she had landed this plum position. Millie grinned to herself as she left the interview.
‘When can you start?’ the woman had said.
Well, ‘When can you start, honey?’ she had actually said. Millie was a bit sensitive about being called honey, sweetie, baby or any of the diminutives her appearance seemed to prompt. Still, a job was a job, and this one had accommodation thrown in.
‘Reception Officer,’ she repeated to herself on the bus home.
Home was a tiny apartment, one she would not feel sorry about leaving for the swank environs of ‘Cat’s Cradle Corporation’, makers of fine play equipment.
It was fine equipment, too, Millie thought. She felt proud to be starting work for such an up-market company. The CEO, Miss Walters, who had interviewed her, even had one of the company’s swings in her huge office. She had pointed out to Millie the various safety features that made it so superior as play equipment. Millie smiled at the thought. At Miss Walter’s suggestion, Millie had climbed into the seat of the brightly colored steel swing, and had blushed as Miss Walters explained that it was made for 3 to 5 year olds.
‘It’s nice to know we have an in-house demonstrator!’ Miss Walters had said as Millie clambered out of the little seat in embarrassment. The swing had looked quite big to her, and, feeling very puffed up about getting such a good job, she had forgotten for a moment how small she was.
Anyway, a new day was dawning for her, Millie told herself that evening as she packed her clothes and a few belongings. Not many people can move house in a cab, she thought as she folder the last of her jeans into her suitcase.
She would have to get some new clothes for the job as well, Millie reminded herself, and began to think what she could wear. Due to her size, she shopped at children’s departments, looking for smaller copies of adult clothing that she could wear. Sometimes she had to unpick an appliquéd decoration or two, or put up with a fake fly or token pockets, but she generally found what she wanted and was able to look like an adult, albeit a small one.
Early the next morning, Millie arrived across town at Miss Walters’ home address. The house was nothing out of e ordinary for the area, and looked cared for and welcoming. Millie had done her best to look cared for too. She was dressed in a beige knitted top, a green woollen skirt, warm pantyhose and her best leather shoes. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was shining from a thorough wash, and was pinned up in the approved secretarial fashion. Millie wore her heavy library glasses rather than her usual light frames in order to look more authoritative in the new position.
Miss Walters answered the doorbell almost as Millie pressed it.
‘Hello sweetie!’ Miss Walters beamed at the young woman. ‘Come in!’
As usual, Millie didn’t really appreciate the ‘sweetie’ from this woman, but she felt it best not too make an issue of it yet, and followed the lady to what was to become her room.
‘I’ve never redecorated, but I think you’ll get used to it,’ Miss Walters said as she opened a door and flicked on a light.
Millie looked around the small room. It had a skylight, but no window. Still, it looked comfortable. She could see what Miss Walters meant about redecorating. The room was decked out for a toddler, at best, with pink and eggshell blue being the dominant colors.
Millie was too keen to start work to worry, and after putting her clothes variously in the pink chest of drawers and the little blue robe, she joined Miss Walters for breakfast. Then the pair headed for the Cat’s Cradle Company.
The office was a twenty minute drive away, and with the extra business of settling in Millie, Miss Walters had landed them in the middle of the morning traffic.
They were waiting at the third cycle of the same traffic lights when Millie realised that she should have gone to the bathroom before getting into the car.
She must be excited, she thought. Usually a wait like this was no problem, but she really needed to go. Maybe Miss Walters’ coffee cups were extra big, or the coffee was really strong or something, she thought, squeezing her legs together.
Now the traffic light cycle was going around again. Millie shifted in her seat, and tried to concentrate on the Ray Charles song on the radio.
‘Are you ok, honey?’ asked Miss Walters as they waited.
‘Yep,’ Millie replied as brightly as she could.
‘We’ll be there soon, sweetie, are you sure you’re ok?’ Miss Walters persisted.
‘Yep, just need the bathroom,’ Millie replied. Who cares, she thought, it’s a fact, and it might make the woman put her foot down if there was an opportunity.
Miss Walter put her hand on the folds of Millie’s woollen skirt where the girl’s thigh met her abdomen. Millie jumped a little, and hoped she hadn’t felt a little spurt of pee.
‘There soon,’ said Miss Walters, ‘And anyway, these seats only look like leather.’
Millie glanced at the woman, who smiled back. What the hell did that mean, thought Millie. Was this lady expecting her to pee her pants all over her car seats?
At last they got thought the lights. Miss Walters drove briskly enough, and by the time they reached the locked door of the company offices Millie was shifting what there was of her weight around like a pre-schooler.
‘On the left, honey,’ said Miss Walters quietly as soon as she had opened the door.
Millie fairly ran to the bathroom and tore her pantyhose and panties down as she turned and sat with huge relief. ‘Great start, kiddo,’ she thought to herself and wondered if her probation might not be up already.
Once she had recovered her equilibrium, Millie inspected the damage. She was not happy to discover that her panties and hose were quite wet, with a sizeable wet patch on the back of her skirt as well. I wonder what the definition of ‘wet myself’ is, she asked herself. She hadn’t wet herself since she was an infant.
Miss Walters’ voice came through the door.
‘When you’re ready, honey, we can change you into your work clothes.’
Work clothes? Millie thought for a moment. There had been no mention of work clothes. Then she realised that this was a bonus. She would not have to wear her wet skirt. And no knickers? No problem. No-one would know anyway.
‘Great, Miss Walters, could you just hand anything in and I’ll change in here,’ replied Millie.
Miss Walter’s light laugh floated through the door.
‘No need, honey, there’s proper changing room next to my office. Everything’s in there,’ the woman said.
‘Okay,’ Millie replied uncertainly.
She was worried about how to do this. She used a pad of toilet tissue to try to soak the moisture form her underwear, but it didn’t do much good. Unhappily, Millie pulled on her damp clothing. The wet patches felt larger, and colder, than before. Resolving not to turn around and show her wet skirt, Millie left the bathroom. The bathroom door led into the ante-room she had rushed through to get to the toilet. Millie noted the staff lockers there. About half a dozen of them, all with employee names on them. She didn’t stop to look closely, but made her way into the corridor, then found her way to the main office.
It was still early, and Millie and Miss Walters were apparently the only ones there.
‘Come in, sweetie,’ said Miss Walters.
Millie had a brief perception of the same big office she had sat in during her job interview, then followed Miss Walters into a room off the office.
It was a nice room, internal like the bedroom at Miss Walters house, and with the same décor. Yuk, thought Millie to herself.
‘Here we are, baby,’ said Miss Walter.
‘Let’s get your things off, honeybunch,’ said Miss Walters briskly.
Millie stared at the garments on the low bench.