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Ersatz (Part 12)
🕑 Added 2023-09-28 16:35:35 +0000 UTC(Christy)
Christy scribbled with red and orange crayons on a stray coloring sheet and slid it towards Wendy. “Gaba?” Fire? Can we light this place on fire? Make it burn?”
Hope.
Anger.
Desperation.
Wendy seemed to consider it-either that or she was pooping- and looked to her so-called twin beside her. Peter nodded. “Ung.” Yes. Yes they could.
None of this was an actual language. Words of any kind, written or spoken were all but beyond her now. Too much Baby Shark. Too much Klownzo. Too many lullabies. Reading and talking were concepts she understood but it was getting harder and harder to feel like it was a skill she’d ever possessed.
Communication though? Pictures and symbols? Tone and context? That Christy could do. So could the other ‘broken’ babies; those with neither ability to walk, talk, or chew. It was funny that it had taken her and her friends so long to realize that they all had that same spark of intelligence and drive. Not ‘funny ha-ha’ but still funny.
Stupid.
Privileged.
Selfish.
Short-Sighted.
Christy looked deep down inside herself to find the right words. Word scribbles were so hard now. She made a scribble of a long hook over a dot. She hoped that was the right picture. “Hhh?” How?
Both babblers shrugged. One took a black crayon and made a thick circle with a stick coming out the base and slid it back. “Maka mok…?” Maybe this…? Christy squinted her eyes, trying to decipher the image. Was it a word?
Christy took the paper and nudged Brittney. Brittney unburied her tear streaked face from the palms of her hands and sniffled. “Hm?” She looked where Christy pointed and tried to decipher its meaning. “Is this like…a frying pan? Something in the kitchen?”
Wendy shook her head. That wasn’t it. She tapped just under her eye. Seeing what she was up to, Peter brightened and made a circle with his right hand and placed it on his eye.
“Glasses?” Brittney said. “A monocle?”
Two sets of noses scrunched up in annoyance. This wasn’t it.
Realization!
Christy tapped Brittney on the shoulder and shut one eye. She held an invisible handle just beneath her eye and then leaned in uncomfortably close to Brittney as if she were inspecting something.
“A magnifying glass?”
The twins grinned and touched their noses. Got it!
Similar games of charades were going on in the other side of the playroom. Tyler and Drew were sussing out methods of distraction and escape across from Michael and Jon. It made sense to collaborate and brainstorm, but when six out of eight participants couldn’t speak, it made the process painfully slow. It had been necessary for Brittney and Drew to split up, act as translators, and fill each other in. Not the easiest thing in the world.
Compounding things was the fact that Brittney was far from her A-game. Granny had just stuck her with a needle and turned her legs to jelly. All the girls were now officially crawlers. Drew had told Granny to do it, too. Granny had said it, Drew hadn’t denied it, and Brittney was not taking it well.
Dick move, Drew. Dick move.
“A magnifying glass?” Brittney repeated. “Do we even have one of those?”
Christy mentally inventoried all of the baby toys in the bins she’d dug around for. The twins shook their heads, sadly, and she joined them.
“Where would we get enough direct sunlight to work with, anyway?” It’s not like there was a whole lot of bright natural light to work with.
Again, none of the babblers had any answers locked away in their noggins.
The goal was simple: Cause a panic, start a fire, force Granny to evacuate and run out into the streets. Best case scenario, most if not all of them could get away. Eight humans and only one giant combined with panicking neighbors and fire trucks for distractions. Not one of them had seen anything resembling strollers and the playpen was too bulky to move quickly. Fact was Granny couldn’t catch all of them.
A goal was not the same as a plan, however. Granny’s house was incredibly baby proofed with latches on cabinet doors, gates restricting movement, and electrical sockets covered up. If they were actual children, they’d have been amazingly safe from self harm or getting lost. As trapped adults it just made the house a soft and insidious prison. Combined with the fact that over half their number could no longer walk, they were at a serious disadvantage.
How were they going to start a fire to begin with?
Lips zipped shut when Granny high stepped back into the room over one of the baby gates. Christy took some crayons and started scribbling out the drawings that had already been made just in case. The boys on the other side of the room took a similar intense interest in the stack of alphabet blocks beside them.
Granny paid none of them any mind. She was carrying a laundry basket straight through to the kitchen. The laundry room, Christy remembered, was just past the kitchen which in turn let out to the garage. Apparently she’d tormented them enough for one day and was now catching up on chores.
Christy suddenly felt her cheeks spread and an intense lumpy mass shot out into the back seat of her diaper. A switch flipped as soon as she felt it and she collapsed into an orgasmic puddle, instinctively sucking on her thumb just to distract herself from the humiliating joy of it all. The others kindly looked away, pretending not to notice.
She pushed herself back up, huffing and puffing. Who needed boys and kisses when using her diaper felt like that? A shudder passed through the girl; that thought was probably the entire end goal of the cream. Granny came back out. “I swear,” she clucked to herself. “So many babies, so much laundry!”
Inspiration!
Eureka!
“Ta-ga-ga!” I’ve got it! Christy’s tone carried it more than anything else. She took out a crayon and started drawing.
“A box? A cardboard box? Why a box? A square? What is it?” A few painful minutes of charades and Brittney finally sussed out Christy’s idea. “Christy..that’s…really crazy.”
Peter and Wendy nodded, but it was a nod of approval.
Crazy like a fox. Crazy enough to work.
The sound of crinkling announced Drew’s and Tyler’s approach. “If we can get a fire going, I think we’ve got a way to make it work.” Drew said.
Brittney visibly bristled, but not because of the flecks of spittle coming from the boy’s toothless mouth. Christy ran her own tongue along smooth moistened gums and quietly bristled her own disgust thinking about Brittney and Tyler. She’d get over it. Escape first.
“Yeah,” Brittney said. “I think we’ve got something to help with that.. But where do we set it off?”
Peter, Wendy, Jon and Michael all cast their gazes up at the television.
Perfect!
Poetic!
Just!
“Blagergle.”
That’ll do.
**************************************************************************************************
(Brittney)
The quartet and their new allies planned the rest of the afternoon until the giants started arriving to take their new friends back. Then it was just a waiting game. As long as they weren’t disciplined or otherwise made to forget again, the plan would be ready to go tomorrow. The other four would likely act as a backup in case it did. As near as she could tell, they weren’t subjected to the same regimen of amnesia inducing reprogramming as Brittney and her playmates were. They were already ‘good babies’ where Granny was concerned’.
Brittney had been placed in the highchair the closest to the laundry room. Other than Granny’s bedroom, the laundry room was the only other place in the house that wasn’t partitioned off by a tall immovable baby gate. The longest straight line any of them could walk- or crawl- was from the gate in the playroom, straight through the kitchen, into the laundry room and into the garage.
Trying to look without looking like she was searching for something, Brittney craned her neck, peering into the little passageway. Yes. Pay dirt! She ate the vaguely fruit flavored slop with gusto that morning. Just like a good baby.
“Please no more cartoons, Granny,” she begged. “I’m soooo tired of them. I just wanna play with the toys and color and stuff.” Whether or not they were allowed freedom while the second shift ate their breakfast or were exposed to more mind-sapping cartoons felt like a real coin flip. Brittney didn’t like coin flips. Pleeeeeease…!”
Granny’s bottom lip protruded out in consideration. “You know what?” Granny smiled. “The funny thing is, I know you’re playing with me, but…” she sighed. “I do like to spoil my babies.” She unclicked the tray and boosted Brittney down to the linoleum floor. “Of course, you’re going to have to wait to get your diapers changed.”
Collectively, the quartet sighed in relief and transitioned to sagging in defeat. Good. Let her think their spirits were broken. All according to plan.
And this was a good plan. Now that the worst thing that could have happened to her had happened, she was back in her element. See what needs to be done, what steps needed to be taken to do it, and who had the best skillset to achieve it.
“You four get a head start on playing while I feed the other babies,” Granny said and shooed them into the playroom while Peter, Wendy, Jon, and Michael were loaded up into highchairs.
That head start had been vital to their mission. “Get the baby powder,” Brittney whispered. Then she added, “Spare bottle on the second shelf.”
Christy and Tyler nodded and worked together to snatch the bottle from the changing table’s second shelf. The chubby boy had had to stand on the twiggy girl’s back to reach far enough, but it was a quick extraction. It would have been better and likely more comfortable if their positions had been reversed with Tyler acting as a footstool for his gal pal, but neither of the girls could stand up at present.
Drew and Brittney could have done the same deed; Drew was lighter than Tyler and Brittney was sturdier than Christy, but Tyler needed to stash the baby powder until it was time so that he could retrieve it quickly enough. That and Brittney didn’t want Drew touching her anymore. It was a fresh bottle, but thankfully whatever these giants did to their diaper tapes to keep people from tearing them off didn’t apply to simple plastic wrap and freshness seals.
“Still pissed at me?” Drew asked her, quietly.
Brittney felt her face scrunch up while her eyes fought back burning tears. “Let’s just get this done,” she said. “Then we’ll talk about feelings.”
Drew shrugged, suppressing his own snarl. “Fair enough.”
Brittney’s knees scuffed against foamy flooring, crawling toward the television. This was going to be the hardest and maybe grossest part of the plan. Tyler doubled back from the couch where he’d just jammed a full bottle of baby powder under a cushion. They met at the side of the television set where the T.V. was between them and direct line of sight should Granny be standing at the kitchen threshold. They had an entire wall between them and the giantess at present.
Christy took point by the changing table, sniffling pathetically so that she could play look out while keeping an eye inside the kitchen. Not being able to talk anymore would technically make her a superb liar. She could babble anything and it would sound like a fussy girl begging for first change of the day. If Tyler and Brittney heard even a smidgen of the girl’s voice, they knew to get clear.
Drew sat in the middle of the room, playing casual and saving his energy for what was to come. He’d need it.
She pushed aside guiltily half remembered memories of what she and Tyler had done in the crib while the others slept and set her mind to the present. “Ready?” Brittney asked. As serious as she’d ever seen him, Tyler nodded. He muscled his way past her and grabbed hold of the T.V.s electrical chord. “One….two…three!”
Tyler pulled it loose and the gentle, almost imperceivable hum of electricity flowing from the wall into the set went silent. More worryingly was the light ‘ka-thunk’ sound of the plug popping out. Brittney held her breath and looked out into the playroom. Drew turned his head sideways and gave her a lazy thumbs up. Like the crinkling squelching noise of their diapers, it had to be either very quiet or one had to be expecting it to notice.
“Oh my! Everyone’s so chatty this morning!” Granny gushed from the kitchen. “Do my lovely little darlings have something to tell me? Do they?” Thanks to their backup, the old woman neither heard nor suspecting anything.
Brittney and Tyler would need that cover. She had no idea how much noise this next step would make.
They both held the television cord in their hands, grimly regarding it as though it were a dead rattlesnake that might yet come back to life and strike them. Out of everything in Granny’s house, the television was the one weak spot. Its power cord was comparatively flimsy and in disrepair; with electrical tape wrapped around it to keep it together. If this place had an Achilles’s heel, it was here. As prepared as Granny was to deal with mischievous children, she’d not prepared herself for desperate adults.
They were certainly desperate. This was going to suck. An imaginary dentist inside her head warned her that this was going to be bad for her teeth. Brittney reminded herself that she wasn’t going to ever go see one if today didn’t work out. Also, there was a certain poetic irony of bringing this place down because of the television.
Brittney steeled herself. “Ready?”
Tyler bared his teeth and clicked them together, his eyes excited. At least someone was having fun.
********************************************************************************************************
(Drew)
For five whole minutes, Drew waited and watched. His blood boiled watching Tyler and Brittney chewing through to the wiring of the television power cord. Jealousy, and not just because they had teeth caused his heart rate to skyrocket. Dreams in the dark of the nursery were seeming less and less like dreams and more and more like things he’d witnessed while only-half asleep.
Later. Save it for later. He’d get dentures later. He get into a proper shouting match with Brittney later. But first escape and make it back home.
Things really got started when the other quartet’s breakfast was finished and Granny brought Wendy over to the changing table. Christy immediately started howling at the top of her lungs, and Tyler and Brittney scampered out from their sabotage spot trying not to lick the pieces of electrical tape they’d gnawed through and gotten stuck in their teeth.
“You can wait, deary,” Granny chided. “You can wait.” She maintained eye contact with Christy during the entirety of Wendy’s diaper change, while Christy howled defiantly. “If you’re going to be like that you can just wait longer,” Granny taunted.
Wendy held her tongue until she was set down and started blubbering the second Granny crossed the threshold into the kitchen. “Wendy?” Granny asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “What’s wrong, baby?” Wendy gave no reply except to make her throat rattle as much as Christy’s. Granny puckered her lips, but didn’t let it interrupt her further, going back to get another faux infant.
Drew watched it all play out from the corner of his eye, appearing slightly disinterested and annoyed. An opening was approaching. He wished he could have gotten changed before he tried this; dry diapers were easier to move around in than sopping wet ones he’d learned.
He resisted the urge to ask for a change. The cream that made everyone nut whenever they peed or pooped their pants was at its weakest right now and he didn’t want Granny having her eye on him for any amount of time.
Another broken inmate got brought in and changed before Christy. Michael, Drew recalled. He joined in on the blubbering with Wendy and Christy. “What…the…?” Granny speed walked to the kitchen and emptied the remaining two highchairs of their occupants. Couldn’t deal with a mass tantrum and leave two babies unattended in their highchairs.
Drew slowly stood up. Wendy crawled over to Christy and full-on slapped her in the face. That made the others join in on the bawling. Christy tackled Wendy and they were both screaming, rolling on the floor and pulling at one another’s hair. All according to plan.
“CHILDREN!” Granny boomed. “STOP THIS AT ONCE!:” Not one of them listened.
This was the opening he’d wanted. The girls rolled away from the changing table towards the couch. Granny stomped and high stepped over to keep up without stepping on her much smaller prisoners or the minefield of toys that had already been spread out. Drew skirted out of the giantess’s way to avoid tripping her and to get her back to him in a way that didn’t seem like he was sneaking around her.
“What has gotten into you two?” Granny scolded them after she’d pried them off of one another. “Christy I would have expected this from you, but-”
Drew didn’t listen to the rest of the lecture. He was beating feet through the kitchen, widening his stride as much as he could. The world rushed by him all the way to the laundry room. “Come on,” he said to himself nervously. “Come on…” He couldn’t hear the crying over the pounding pulse inside his ears. He prayed the mammoth garbage can was light enough for him to tip over and his prayers were answered.
A second prayer was answered soon after. Dryer lint! Right there on the top of everything! Drew dug his hands into the fluffy gray stuff and bundled as much as he could. A few handfuls to a giant was practically a beach ball to a normal person.
Tyler was in the kitchen, wide eyed and red-faced. His arms were outstretched and his fingers grasping for the lint ball. Drew didn’t have time to question it. He was supposed to run this back to the television and then try to make a distraction using the garage door opener. Tyler was supposed to stay out of the way.
He could hear the crying and the thundering sound of flesh on flesh. Spanking! Bare bottomed spanking! Granny had been pushed beyond confusion and into violence. And from the sound of the cries, the bottom being spanked was Christy.
Fuck. Shit. Goddamn it! No time to panic, only to adapt.
He handed the giant lint ball off to Tyler at the Kitchen’s halfway mark and pivoted back to the garage. He’d run into the garage, climb up on the wooden railings by the cement stairs, press the garage door opener and then hide under Granny’s giant car. If the noise didn’t attract her he’d make a break for it on his own and wish the others the best of luck.
Drew rushed back into the laundry room and readied himself to leap up for the door. “Here goes nothing,” he told himself.
A hand shot out and grabbed him roughly by the wrist. Before he knew it he was dangling up in the air and viewing his terrified reflection in the glasses of a very angry giantess.
“Aha!” Granny practically roared. “Gotcha!”
*****************************************************************************************************
(Tyler)
Tyler stuffed the lint under his sleep shirt. Granny ran right past him without looking. Christy was crying in a ball, naked for the first time that Tyler could remember not counting in the tub. Her backside was red and covered in a giant handprint with bruises starting to form.
This was going sideways, and it was a blessing Tyler couldn’t curse out loud anymore. How were they going to get out of there? The answer was that they weren’t. Not all of them. The four had quietly accepted that their fellow inmates would likely be sacrificed, but now they’d be lucky if even two of them found freedom.
They were getting out together. He’d save Brittney. He promised himself that much.
Brittney had been the one that told him to go get the lint faster. She was already digging in between the couch cushions for the bottle of baby powder when he came back.
Tyler huffed and puffed around the corner, his diaper chafing and smacking between his thighs with every step. He took a wide berth around the television and stuffed the lint into the exposed and twisted wires into the television’s power chord.
Step one, complete.
Step two sparked to life when he jammed the plug back into its socket. The smell of burning and smoke danced up into his nostrils. First spark. Then fire.
Now he only needed the powder. Baby powder was flammable if spread thinly enough into a cloud. The equation was lint + spark + powder = flamethrower. More than enough to get a fire good and out of control. More than enough to-
Tyler paused. Where was the powder? What was taking Brittney so long? He took his eyes off the tiny flame he’d conjured and saw Brittney on her back, three of the babies were literally dog piling onto her, tackling her line linebackers.
“HEEEEEELP! GET OFF OF ME!” Brittney screamed.
A Kansas City Shuffle! Heist trope! A misdirect and a double cross that was there from the start! They look one way and you go the other. Once upon a lifetime, Tyler would have blurted this all out and then relied on his friends to parse out the meaning; maybe allow Christy whom he constantly info dumped to to translate.
Presently, only a shocked “EEEEEEEEEE!” came out of his mouth, seeing three of the other inmates pinning his new girlfriend. His squeal was cut off by a sudden punch to his balls and then a swift tackle taking him down at the ankle. Tyler had found the fourth…
The last thing Tyler would see before this entire day got reset and his memory scared away by a vile cartoon clown was an angry but in control Granny carrying Drew under one arm and a bundle of electric tape in the other.
“Good work,” she said. “You four did the right thing telling me at breakfast.” She shook her head and smiled malevolently. “Drew, Brittney, Tyler, Christy. I’m so disappointed in you four for your lack of creativity. Fire didn’t work the first time you tried to run away from me. Did you really think it would work this time?”
Oh…
*******************************************************************************************
(Gloria)
A few days later…
Gloria handed Michael over to his Mommy at the door. She was the last client to pick up that afternoon. Her prescription glasses were propped up on her forehead, and her eyes betrayed more than a hint of tiredness. It had been a hectic afternoon to say the least. Even knowing it was coming didn’t take any of the tiredness away. “He did a great job today.”
The moment the Little boy was cradled in his Mommy’s arms he started mewling like a kitten and pawing impotently at her breast. “Uh-oh,” the younger woman said. “Somebody’s hungry!”
Gloria allowed herself a soft smile. “Go ahead,” she said. “No need to be shy around me. Give him a treat.”
The woman didn’t hesitate to unbutton her blouse with her free hand and unclasped the front of her nursing bra. Michael latched onto her nipple like a hungry snake going after a nice plump mouse. His Mommy moaned a moment while she adjusted to the sensation of toothless lips suckling. Her lactation pills had just started getting results and she wasn’t quite used to it.
“Such a good eater!” she praised, stroking the back of Michael’s head. “Yes he is! Yes he is!”
It was true. A few months ago, Michael would have bit the woman. Even if his teeth had been removed first he’d have scratched at her until he drew blood. Not now, though. Now he was just a happy baby suckling baby, content in his Mommy’s arms. Forever and ever.
His Mommy looked up from him and to Gloria. “The reviews were right,” she said. “You really do great work.”
“Thank you, ma’am,’ Gloria’s smile remained polite and professional. “Speaking of which, I believe my work is done with Michael.”
A light of recognition from the other woman. “You mean…?” It was the words she’d been waiting for.
“I think Michael is ready to go into a more mainstream daycare.”
Michael’s Mommy gasped. “Oh my goodness!” Her voice shot up higher and into a whisper. “Really? Do you mean it?!”
Gloria’s smile widened. “I really do. He’s more than adjusted to his true inner child.”
The woman’s happiness mutated suddenly into concern. “Are you sure?” she hissed. “I’ve heard stories of Littles getting awfully naughty when they go to a regular daycare. Something about being around other Littles….”
“I’m a Granny and a Nanny,” Gloria replied with certainty. “My Little darlings don’t get naughty by the time I’m done with them.”
It was true. Gloria prided herself on her thoroughness. Other parents and teachers took too many half-measures, and thus bad habits were never broken in their Littles. They’d allow the Littles to keep too many vestigial traces of their old unnecessary lives: Didn’t give them enough cartoons and lullabies to help tease their Inner Child out and keep it out. No milk or special vitamins in said milk to help them acclimate and get rid of those nasty potty training inclinations. No cream to help redirect those unnecessary sexual urges elsewhere. No language scramblers so that they couldn’t talk back or plan escape with each other. No physical alterations so that it was easier for them to get into trouble and imagine themselves as the adults they never really were.
Gloria took no such half-measures. She didn’t believe in that whole Maturosis nonsense that the folks on the coasts were buying into. Littles weren’t adults who were turning back into babies. Their age and experience wasn’t being turned upside down or however those snake oil types liked to sell it these days.
Littles were just babies who never really grew up, full stop. The only reason Littles learned to walk and talk and reproduce and act like true adults was because negligent Amazons allowed them to. It was an evolutionary reaction that allowed Littles to survive long enough and spread out so that they could find proper Mommies and Daddies to take care of them.
Once that happened, it was up to the real grown-ups to make all of those adaptations unnecessary. Gloria simply took it to the next logical step and made those behaviors impossible.
“Oh!” The other woman continued to whisper. “I think he’s peeing!”
“Probably,” Gloria chuckled. “You want me to change him before you go?”
“Oh no, no, no!” Michael’s Mommy whispered. “He’s got a while before he’ll need a change. At least till after dinner. Maybe sooner if he makes a really big poopy for me.”
“You don’t need to whisper,” Gloria corrected her. “He can’t understand most of what you say anyways.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Wow!”
Gloria’s pride caused her to chuckle. A lifehack she’d stumbled onto with her first Little darling was that the language scrambling pulses from the phone dispatcher compounded on each other. The first time it took a Little’s ability to use expressive language. The second time it removed their ability to understand it. She’d given Michael, Jon, Wendy, and Peter their final doses right after their naps that day. They all looked relieved when Gloria put the phone up to their ears for one last time. Wendy even cried tears of joy when Gloria took away her breasts for her. Gloria always felt so proud of her Little darlings in these moments. After living in the truth for long enough, Littles were eager to ditch the lie when they’d finally earned the privilege.
“He still understands tone,” Gloria clarified. “He’ll re-learn his name and the words for everyday people and such, but he’s going to functionally stay at about six-to-nine-months old”
“Well that’s good,” the younger woman bobbed him gently as he fed. “I want him to understand it when I tell him that I love him.” A beat passed. “Does that mean those cartoons won’t work anymore?”
Gloria shook her head. “No, they should still work well enough. New episodes probably won’t, but he’s seen the re-runs enough times that they’ll keep him happy and help reinforce desired behaviors.” Playfully, she shook her finger at the woman. “Try to have him watch at least one episode a day, if not more. You can skip a day or two but try not to. And remember to turn on that musical baby monitor I gave you every night.”
Her client laughed, but she had no idea how serious Gloria was being. In a roundabout way, Little training was just as much about training the Amazons as it was about teaching the Littles to be true to themselves. Rather like obedience school, actually; only when one did it with Littles instead of dogs it was considered ‘Etiquette’ school; though Gloria hated that term.
Littles were too immature to understand proper obedience and etiquette. Manners, politeness, obedience to complex verbal commands: To trust them with that level of discipline like they were toddlers or preschoolers was just setting them up for failure. It was downright disrespectful to them. Too many Amazons wanted trained animals that did tricks. If Gloria could have worked her will on the world, she’d have plopped those idiots back in daycare too right alongside their poorly raised brats, (and it caused her no small amount of consternation that she and those bleeding hearts running Little Voices agreed on something).
“So…” Michael’s Mommy sighed, reluctantly. “I guess this is it.” These sort of goodbyes were always bitter sweet.
“Yes ma’am,” Gloria said.
She pulled Michael from her breast and gave him a pacifier before he could make a sound. He was so well trained that it didn’t even need to be inflated to keep him quiet. He just went right back to suckling. “What if he starts to regress?”
“You know where I live,” Gloria grinned. “And I’ll be checking in once a month for the next year or so, just in case.” It was a courtesy that hadn’t been a necessity for some time. Not since Gloria had stumbled onto the greatest secret of Little training yet known.
“Okay,” the younger woman smiled. “That’s a relief. How much do I owe you?”
“I’ve already billed your insurance,” Gloria said. “You’ve long since met your deductible since the Adoption.”
“Wonderful. Thank you again!”
“Anytime, dear.”
“Say ‘bye bye’ Michael,” his Mommy squeaked. She looked down at her bundle of joy and corrected herself. The Little darling was already fast asleep. “Oops!” she blushed. “Never mind.”
“Have a good one,” Gloria said and slowly closed the door. “And congratulations.”
She turned the lock and waited till she heard her last client’s car turn on and motor away. Gloria allowed herself one last satisfied smile and let herself get teary eyed. She always missed the Little darlings when she was done with them.
The moment passed and her mind started looking forward to the future. Tonight, after the Littles were all in their cribs, she’d start making calls and offers on her clientele waiting list. Everyone in town wanted a Little taught and trained by her; enough so that she could charge what she was worth and force future parents to be patient.
Four to eight customers were about to receive some very good news that night. They wouldn’t come Adopt right away, but after payment, they’d get plenty of baby pictures of their new Little darling, as well as digital alteration software to edit themselves in, and instructions of where to buy good, reliable, inexpensive, used baby furniture.
That way when they did come to pick their babies up for the first time, everything would be in place to make it seem as if they’d always lived there with their Mommy or Daddy. Gloria would do her part to slip her clients’ photos into subliminal cartoons to add to the sense of familiarity.
On second thought, maybe only three to six customers would get the good news. Tyler and Brittney were awfully cute together, and making them “twins” would shatter any lingering doubts that their previous ‘marriages’ were a sham. If not for them, then for Drew and Christy.
All of this flashed through Gloria’s mind as a matter of routine; Outloud, the only thing she said was, “Well…back to work.”
Gloria walked to the living room and play area. A bluesy riff and a suggestive Little voice made it out into the hallway.
“When my diaper’s on I like it dry.
And when it’s wet I get upset.
When my diaper’s on I like it dry.
And when it’s wet I get upset.
I want it off.
I cry, ‘Please change me’.”
“Oops!” Gloria stopped herself. She slid her glasses back over her eyes before she rounded the corner and stepped over the baby gate. “That could have been bad.” The glasses were a very special prescription.
‘Baby Blues: Please Change Me’ wouldn’t do much to Gloria; if anything it would only reinforce things she already knew to be true. It just would be a bad habit to be watching Little re-education videos without proper filtration. The lenses still hurt her eyes if she wore them for too long. That and this song was particularly catchy. Damn thing got stuck in her head all the time.
“When my diaper’s on I like it clean.
And when it’s dirty I get upset
When my diaper’s on I like it clean
And when it’s dirty, I get upset.
I want it off
I cry, ‘Please change me’.“
Gloria stepped over the gate and her nose wrinkled. If she hadn’t just swapped the liners, she’d swear that the diaper pail needed emptying. It didn’t, though, so that meant her newest batch of Little darlings needed changing.
They all sat there, naked save for their diapers, and all toothless, wordless, and crawling to boot; practically blank slates ready for painting. They sat in a tiny semi-circle, staring unblinkingly at the television set and absorbing the subliminal lessons that would make them happy in the long run. On screen, a Little actress in a pink dress with yellow polka dots sang about getting her diaper changed while smiling and doing infantile sign gestures: Diaper. Wet. Dirty. Upset. Mom. Dad. Change. Up. Down. The very, very basics.
When my diaper’s wet I run to Mom.
Please pick me up. Don’t put me down.
When my diaper’s wet I run to mom
Please pick me up. Don’t put me down.
Don’t put me down.
I cry, ‘Please change me’.”
The girl on screen’s hair was up in a single ponytail on top of her head so that it stood up and bloomed out messily. Her diaper was peeking out from under her dress, but she was smiling politely while she lip synced the words. There wasn’t even a hint of blush at her situation; an unusual trait for a pretending Little. The girl had probably been a very good actress before filming.
When my diaper’s full I run to Dad.
Please pick me up. Don’t put me down.
When my diaper’s full I run to Dad.
Please pick me up. Don’t put me down..
Don’t put me down,
I cry, ‘Please change me’.”
This DVD had the silly song practically on loop, with the video imagery changing slightly every time. This was only the second track. The Little girl still had her teeth, could control her mouth enough to lip sync to the words, knew how to sign, and could stand up independently. The first track had her in faux adult clothes explaining the different signs and then performing the song, with every subsequent iteration being a step in the right direction.
Track three had a voice over explaining the signs, and the Little girl kept her mouth closed, likely because at time of recording she was still embarrassed at having no teeth. Track four featured an adult woman explaining the signs beforehand and then performing them with the Little on her lap, helping her keep up with the dubbed track. Track five saw the girl confined to a highchair not even doing the signs. Track six consisted of what amounted to new home movies and literal interpretations of the lyrics up to including the star of the show being laid down on a changing table with alternating refrains showing an old diaper coming undone or a fresh one being snugly taped on.
No actual nudity of course. This was for Littles.
“When I grow up it will be good.
I’ll use the potty like a big kid.
When I grow up it will be good.
I’ll use the potty like a big kid.
But for now…
I cry, ‘Please change me’.”
Counterintuitively, despite being the most outwardly educational, this DVD had the most subtle programming by far. The lullabies helped grease the wheels by planting the subconscious seeds that they would be happier as their true selves. ‘Baby shark’ brute forced the gates open by directly connecting conscious and subconscious thoughts with explicit commands. ‘Uncle Klownzo’ quashed thoughts of rebellion and recontextualized memories as the pretend games they really were. Finally, Littles who watched ‘Baby Blues’ internalized none of the vocabulary or sign language; they did not learn to cry or run for help and ask for a change. What did happen was that over time they simply learned to see themselves and other Littles were for the babies they truly were. The experts were right: Representation really did matter.
This batch would need plenty more run throughs of all the right programs before it was settled fact, but in the present what they all really needed were fresh diapers.
The granny and the nanny walked up behind them and checked each of their diapers thoroughly. For every single one, she scooped them up, pulled their waistbands back and peeked down to see the brown lumps resting comfortably in the back. Then she squeezed the front of their diapers between their legs for squish and snaked her fingers past the leak guards to feel the wetness for herself.
Then for each one, she plopped them back down on their padded bottoms and made them keep watching the show. Gloria liked her Littles to get used to being checked but not changed. She wanted them to stop associating checking with changing so that they wouldn’t feel entitled to a change every time an adult touched their diapers. By the time she was done with them, Gloria didn’t want them thinking about their diapers overmuch at all.
She finally settled on Brittney and picked her all the way up and took her to the changing table. She rubbed the Little girl’s back and patted her bottom. The girl would soon internalize the causal touching and the violations of personal space, thinking nothing of them. Littles didn’t have personal space.
Brittney’s eyes unclouded when Gloria undid the tapes. ‘Baby Blues’ didn’t leave nearly as deep a trance as ‘Klownzo’, and that sticky ripping sound tended to snap Little minds back to reality. Perhaps because it was a sound that really drove home how helpless and adorable they truly were, or because they subconsciously associated it with a transitional activity; it was certainly more definitive than the ever present crinkling. Maybe it was just loud enough.
Brittney babbled up questioningly to Gloria, seemingly unaware that Gloria could no longer understand her. “Hold still, baby girl,” Gloria clucked. “Then you can have some milk and play.”
Her feet wriggled, even weaker than they were before the shot reduced her legs to jelly.. “Babacapa!”
“Hold still…” Gloria repeated. “Unless you think you’re more of a baby than Christy.”
That did the trick.
The rest of the change went smoothly. Brittney, who was fairly well endowed for a Little didn’t even try to cover her breasts. Good. Very good. She put the Little down on the playmat; there was no need for a playpen at present; and saw to Tyler.
Tyler was coming along even better than Brittney was. “Good job,” Gloria teased while she spread more of the special cream between his cheeks and onto his tiny penis. “You don’t even have an erection! You’ll definitely beat Drew the next time you play with the buzz buzz toys!” Tyler blushed, but remained silent. Ironically, the biggest talkers tended to be the quiet ones once talking was no longer an option. Gloria smirked. Just mentioning an erection caused Tyler’s little soldier to stand back up to attention.
She shrugged to herself. Couldn’t be helped at this stage. In time most Littles became desensitized to sexual stimulation. When an orgasm becomes as common as a bladder spasm or bowel movement, it loses much of its allure all on its own. Those that couldn’t completely shake the habit could be taught to only make ‘humpies’ on specially designated toys. Some of them looked awfully cute while doing it too.
“Christy made such a big mess!” Gloria gushed next. “Such a big girl and growing all the time!” The lie went unnoticed. It was the praise and comparison that mattered. In a day or two after receiving payment, she’d start peppering in how proud their Mommies and Daddies would be, just as soon as she knew who and how many of each they’d have.
“Drew was super patient waiting to get changed! Very mature” It didn’t matter that Drew hadn’t been fully aware of his environment until his old diaper was halfway opened.
With the quartet all fresh and clean, Gloria hustled to the refrigerator and returned with four bottles of milk. “First one to finish gets a special sweet treat,” she promised. “Last one gets an enema before bed to help make room in their tummy.”That was enough to set them gulping the stuff down at a record pace. All four would need burping for sure.
Gloria crossed her arms and admired her handiwork. This batch was proceeding along quickly; almost as fast as the last batch. The ones from All-Little countries tended to be easier to train. They came from primitive backwoods places that Gloria had never heard of before: Places like ‘Fleuriduh’ and ‘Illinoise’. Far out of the way and uncivilized places they must be for its natives to have no concept of Amazons are even In-Betweeners.
Her last batch of darlings had been from some place called ‘Lundun’ and their accents- back when they had accents- sounded vaguely Albienese. She giggled to herself, remember how Peter, Jon, Wendy, and Michael kept whining that they didn’t belong in ‘nappies’.
Come to think of it, it was odd she found them first considering that Albiene was an ocean away and that Scerya was completely landlocked. It was deeply curious to her that so many foreign Littles made first contact with civilization here instead of on one of the coastal regions, but Gloria Fitzsimmons was never one to leave a Trojan Horse unopened.
Littles from less civilized countries were easier to teach and train than local homegrown Littles due to their own blissful ignorance. For all the lies the Little savages told themselves, the one lie they never got to learn was that Amazons were untrustworthy liars who wanted to hurt them. Without that schema in place, it was easier for them to accept the truth when presented.
Still, some small amount of subterfuge was always necessary. Gloria had picked up enough foreign Little slang over the years to disorient them. They tended to think that the planet was called “Earth”. And they didn’t realize they were Littles, so they used a made up word called “Human”. Poor things tended to think she was an alien, and she just went with it at first.
She would use enough of their own misconceptions and lingo to stall and comfort them and then gently coax them back into their proper place; rather like asking a toddler to hold one’s hand so that the adult ‘didn’t get lost’. Body hair removal was so much easier when they did it themselves and they struggled less when diaper changes started out private and were ‘just in case’. After their first ‘accident’ they realized how sensible it was and it was easy to gradually acclimate them from there.
“Looks like we have a winner!” Gloria cheered. “Congratulations Christy! You get a sweet treat later tonight! Such a big girl!” Five seconds later, her face melted into a harlequin frown. “Uh oh. Looks Brittney is getting a visit from the enema bag tonight!”
Brittney whimpered but did not cry. The boys pointed and laughed, their toothless mouths on full display.
“Don’t worry,” Gloria comforted the girl with a pat on her head. “Your tummy will feel so much better after it’s cleaned out.” She gave some playful side-eye to the boys and said, “I don’t know what you boys are giggling about. She’s going to wake up poopy tomorrow because of the enema. What will be your excuse?” That shut them up.
This was the real secret to Gloria’s success in training Littles. If she’d just removed their teeth, walking ability, and whatnot, she’d be qualified to run a mid-level Salon. If she just put on special songs and fed them drugged bottles, she’d be a low-rent daycare owner. But Gloria was a Granny and a Nanny and a very successful Independent Adoption Entrepreneur, and her success came because she’d stumbled upon the secret formula.
Littles were selfish and competitive. As long as there was someone who they perceived as having it worse than them, they were more than happy to punch down. As long as they could give themselves an excuse and tell themselves they weren’t the ‘most baby’, they were malleable and could be taught to be good babies and accept their position.
In truth, if either of the batches of Littles had truly worked together, there was a decent chance of them escaping; maybe not back to their savage Little countries- she still had no idea where any of those were-, but at least out of Gloria’s house. But like the children truly they were, ‘winning’ was less about accomplishing a goal and more about making sure that someone else ‘lost’.
That’s how she knew that Michael and the rest were ready to ‘graduate’. They had learned to be happy and accepted that they were truly infants months ago, but it wasn’t until they actively dragged down this new batch, preventing them from escape that their status as good Little babies was cemented. It wasn’t enough for them to be babies; they knew they had to make sure others like them stopped pretending too.
That’s how Gloria knew the truth of Littles. If Amazons had been shoehorned into a similar scenario, they’d have formed up, created a hierarchy, and worked together to achieve their objective. That’s just what adults did. That’s just what Amazons did.
Littles though? They weren’t Amazons. Unless they were properly cared for and taught, they were nothing more than poor imitations of the real thing. Ersatz.
(The End)
Comments
It’s weird how kidnapping, loss of autonomy, forced infantilization and even identity death (to a degree) don’t bum me out as much as breaking up the marriages. Drew/Brittany and Christy/Tyler all came in with unique and fun relationships, but they turned on each other so sharply. Gloria puffs herself up at the end but I’m still not impressed, she just barrages them with stimuli until they comply. I wish I found the ending more cathartic but it’s a horror story. Sometimes you gotta twist the knife on the way out.
Hopefully we might see a prologe in the future if not what a great ending
