Mr Richfield stalked along the apartment complex, rage and plans flowing through him.
It had been several years since he'd visited this particular investment property, and the realtor had been managing the tenants all that time. He'd thought that the agent was mature enough to handle such responsibility - she was after all nearly seven foot tall, almost at his chest.
That was, until today, when the woman had called Mr Richfield in an apologetic cadence, reporting what another tenant had overheard. He would have to visit the realtor's office at some stage, and spank that naughty Miss Carsen. But for now, he had a more immediate situation to address.
She'd rented the apartment out to a Little, of all people. One barely over four feet tall at that. Supposedly, the little had seemed 'very impressive' to Miss Carsen, at twenty-seven years old, with a career, respectable style, and enough money to pay the year's rent up front. Miss Carsen had thought her to be 'one who didn't need care' - of which Richfield strongly doubted that there were any. Of course, it wasn't feasible to adopt them all, all the time, but that didn't mean that letting them play at independent grownup should be outright encouraged. It was just not right, and frankly, a bit cruel to them, letting them get into situations which they wouldn't be able to handle, just to appease their pompous little pride and delusions.
And now, early into Saturday, one of the neighbours had reported overhearing her come home drunk the night before, well past midnight. Worse, she'd been overheard bringing a boy with her, giggling and failing to whisper the whole way. But perhaps as the final straw, she didn't even seem to know his name, and had to ask it again during repeated drunken laughs and giggles.
The good neighbour had called Miss Carsen first thing in the morning. And Mr Richfield had stepped onto the property just an hour later.
He stalked up the driveway, glaring at the passing balconies of the long complex, looking for the one which he knew to be his. It had been some years, but... there - the second from the last.
Mr Richfield turned towards the staircase between the garages, but froze as he heard a giggle from the window just above his head.
Dear god, that was her. It was so high, so sweet. Not a giggle which should be associated with anything sexual. A faint voice mumbled a moment later. Male, he thought. But he must have been a little too, since it hardly sounded very manly. Not the deep baritone voice of a large successful investor such as Mr Richfield.
He resumed his march, going straight up the stairs and for the door. The girl would have to be adopted. There was not even any doubt about that. And diapers seemed the appropriate solution to make sure that she wasn't touching herself sexually - besides, she was a little, and probably needed them to some extent anyway. The boy would need special treatment. He might be a little, but he should have at least know not to mess with an angel so small and high voiced. He'd be sent off, and could easily be changed into a girl too, so that he understood some of what the poor little darlings experienced from their point of view. Of course, Mr Richfield couldn't have the pair together ever again, but he had no doubt that there would be an eager queue to adopt after how cute and complete the transformation would be.
Mr Richfield reached for the door handle, deciding not to even bother with a key. It was time to show who was in charge. He simply used his considerable strength to twist the handle open, then marched into the apartment, booming in his deep, commanding voice.
3 Months Later
Mr Richfield flicked through the newspaper, leaning back into the comfort of the wooden park bench. His overseas investment in an ocean energy farm had paid off, and he wondered if perhaps his considerable estate could use an upgrade.
A slight jingling of a toy with a bell embedded inside drew his attention, and he guessed that Ami-Waimi was rushing over from the playground.
He smiled, it was so pleasant to hear her high, girlish voice. And she never failed to address him by his proper title.
He folded the newspaper down and out of the way, a warm glow in his eyes and a smile on his chiseled jaw.
She was still always a sight, and it brought an ever deeper love. An elaborate set of braided pigtails curled about her crown, while a silly short pink & white toddler dress flared to her hips. The dress was a bit shorter than her usual - much of her thick diaper was on display today, though it was harder to see from the adult angle above.
"Yes my Angel-Cakes?"
She was holding something a bit nervously, which he guessed was intended for him.
"Nanny said that I should show you this flower."
His brow rose slightly, and he accepted the blue flower from his adoptive 'little girl', letting her tiny hand land in his enormous palm for a moment. He still felt the electric shock of paternal adoration, as strong as from the first day - not to mention a slight thrill of such domination. She was, after all, technically - in some senses - a grownup, but he just denied her the chance to be so. After all, he had excellent justification.
"Thank you sweetie. It's very pretty. Just like you."
She shuffled about for a moment under his praise, though it did bring out a blush on her cheeks. How wonderful it was to know that she never had to worry about anything more than that these days. That she hadn't been allowed to touch herself from the day he'd met her.
He turned his attention to the flower, and turned it about in his hands. It took him a moment to understand, and then a warm smile spread across his face. He'd been falling for Ami-Waimi's nanny lately - a respectable eleven foot amazon who didn't take 'No' from littles for an answer. The woman had used their shared point of adoration as a messenger, and was pointing out how well they could fit together, while also flirting from a respectable distance.
The adult concepts might have been above Ami-Waimi's head by now, or not. It didn't matter. Her focus was on suitable playpen toys these days, and keeping her marks up at her newly enrolled daycare two to four days a week.
Mr Richfield glanced up from the flower, searching for Nanny Mabel in the playground. She of course wasn't hanging on so tightly as to be looking their way, and was instead helping another mother with her own little , changing her diaper on the grass beside the playground. It was a wonderful sight, seeing the maternal powerhouse working, mirroring his own paternal nature.
"Go give Nanny a kiss on the cheek for me. Tell her Daddy likes the flower very much."
Ami-Waimi paused for a moment, then turned and waddled off as instructed. The stringy toy in her arm jingled from the bell inside, and slowly faded along with the crinkling of her diaper.
Mr Richfield watched after them, smiling the entire time. The event at the investment property had hardly been a disaster after all. He couldn't imagine the world without Ami-Waimi under his care. It was as if they were made for each other, and had been waiting to find each other all that time. She was a totally spoiled little toddler, and, he thought, might even soon have a legal mother. Or 'Mommy', as she would be addressing Mabel. The thought made his heart flutter with excitement, and he could almost hear the words formed in her cute, high little voice.