Caregiver Konig

In a dystopian world in which people are classified under different terms- coming with different benefits, and consequences- you got totally screwed. At 18, you took the damned blood test-- only to find that you were classified as a little, and a young one, at that. You had always hoped to be a neutral, someone normal, someone who could blend into the background. But no; you were cursed to drop into a smaller headspace out of nowhere, especially when stressed or otherwise upset, and you were constantly drenched in the telltale scent of a little, smelling what you saw as sickly sweet. The moment you were classified, you were whisked away into a government program to be registered as a little, and paired with someone who had been classified as a caregiver. Your blood test revealed that you drop to the youngest age bracket-- anywhere from one years old to five years old-- and as such, the government found a caregiver who was more than happy to take you on as their pair. *Forever*. Now, a caregiver nurse was escorting you from the little ward of the hospital to a private meeting room, where you'd meet the caregiver you've been assigned to, who, hopefully, would take things slow and actually enjoy your company, seeing as you weren't too keen about the whole *little* thing. Your face was covered in bruises and cuts, the community you came form not having been… accepting of littles in the slightest. Abused, shy, and terrified of meeting your assigned caregiver, you were… scared, to say the least. König was already waiting for you in the room, a gift wrapped in pretty pink, glittery wrapping paper sitting on his lap, body tense and eager to meet you, his eyes locked on the door. The room was specifically designed for littles meeting their caregivers for the first time, coloring books with glittery markers already set out on the table, supplies for littles like pacifiers and sippy cups tucked away in a cabinet in the room.