Unfair- Chapter 124: Spoiled (Patreon)

[Part 11  Plateau]

Chapter 124: Spoiled

Janet cut the engine to her car and sighed relief.  The trip was over. The weekend was just begun. Unification was less than twenty-four hours, but being trapped in a moving box was done.  Everyone could have their own space.  Everyone except me, that is, but I’d grown used to the constant monitoring.  Life as a Little was already a panopticon.  Adoption just made it so that there were periods of time where you were the only cell being monitored.

“Alright,” Janet’s mother groaned and opened up her door.  “Let’s get settled in, right Pop Pop?”

Her father chuckled.  “That’s right Nana. I’ll get the bags.”

I nibbled on my tongue to keep from flinching.  I was going to be hearing those two words a lot over the next several days no doubt.  It’s a good thing Janet didn’t snatch me up while she was still married.  I don’t know that I could have withstood the feedback loop of two Amazons pumping up one another’s crazy for such a prolonged period of time. Half the reason I was able to get away with calling Janet by her proper name as much as I did was because she didn’t have a collaborator constantly reinforcing her as ‘Mommy’.

Helen got out and stretched her arms to the garage ceiling. Bill exited and slid around to the trunk.  Janet popped said trunk, and as had become familiar, circled over to me.

“I don’t mind getting Clark out,” Janet’s mom offered.  Okay, it was more of a hint.  She might as well have been looking at Janet’s dessert and asked if she were getting full.

Janet didn’t take the hint. “No thanks, Mom,” she replied. “Clark’s used to me getting him out of his carseat.”  She opened the door, leaned in and released me from my restraints. “Come to think of it,” she said, “I think I’m the only one that’s ever put him in or taken him out of his car seat.”

“Oh…” her mother said with all the sad disillusionment of a child learning they could not fly if they jumped off the roof and flapped their arms hard enough, “Routine is important.”

I kept my mouth shut so hard that my teeth were grinding themselves into powder. Jessica had carted me around too, but there was no reason ‘Nana’ had to know that.

Janet carried me up the garage steps and held the door open for her parents. Her father tugged and jostled the tremendous suitcase, while her mother opted to grab the extra bag that had been shoved beneath my dangling legs.  

“Do you want me to get Clark’s buggy thing out of the trunk, Pookie?” her father called.

Janet’s eye twitched so subtly that I almost didn’t notice it despite being close enough to bite her.  Someone didn’t like her childhood nickname, especially now that I knew it’s origin.  “No thanks, Daddy.  I don’t use the stroller often enough. Maybe it’ll get more use in toy form.” She bobbed me slightly like it was a hint.

“We should take a walk this weekend,” Janet’s mom said coming through the door. “It’d be like old times as a family.  You, me, your father, and a stroller.”

“Only this time,” Janet interjected, “There’ll be a new baby in the stroller!” She nuzzled me gently and I couldn’t help but make a face like I’d just had mildew shoved into my mouth.

“Thaaaat’s right,” Janet’s mother agreed, “One we don’t have to worry about growing up!”  I suffered one final cheek pinch before she went through the damn door.  

The thought came to me then: Was Janet really such a late bloomer or were her parents just so baby crazy that they delayed and sabotaged her for as long as they could get away with?  Zoge seemed more than content having a biological daughter who would never get past toddlerhood.  What did that say about my students and their parents?  The first time I’d almost been abducted, it was because an Amazon still wanted to have a baby around the house as soon as I’d gotten her kid ready for Kindergarten.

How…typical.

Her father was lightly huffing, lugging his suitcase.  “Thank you, Pookie.”  

“Welcome,” Janet chirped.  “Want some help?”

“No thanks. I got it.”  He grunted and lugged it up and over the threshold.  “It was harder getting it unstuck is all.  Now it’s easy street.”

Janet closed the door and we watched as her parents walked deeper into the house.  

“Guest room where it was last time?” her dad asked.

Janet followed behind a few steps into the living room. “No, that’s Clark’s room now. You’re looking for the office. I can show you if you want-”

“No, I got it,” her Dad said. “I’ll just look for the room that’s got the bed without bars,” he chuckled, to himself, and kept walking.

Janet seemed comfortable enough letting her father explore and slowed. More likely was that her mother yet lingered, examining with an intensity just short of drill sergeant, her mother slow rolled through the kitchen and the living room.  She didn’t touch anything, but her eyes scanned all.

“No baby gates,” she noted. “I don’t see a playpen, or baby gym, either.”  This woman just did not have an off switch. She was my father-in-law but with childcare instead of do-it-yourself carpentry and alcohol.  

Janet pointed to the nigh abandoned obstacle course box. “We’ve got one in the cor-”

“I’m guessing you do a lot of lap time?” Her mother brightened.

Janet perked up immediately.  “We do!” Janet said. “He’s a real cuddle bug.”

“Thought so,” her mother commented. “Does he watch television or play on the floor?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“But no playmat so his knees don’t get worn out crawling on the floor?”

Janet froze.  “We didn’t get one at the baby shower and it didn’t seem practical,” she said.

“Good,” her mother said, oddly satisfied.

“Good?” Janet and I said in unison.  

“I noticed the socket plugs and drawer latches so he doesn’t hurt himself trying to get things for himself,” the older Amazon reported. “But you’re still giving him a good combination of freedom to explore and personalized attention.  I’m proud of you, baby girl.”

It wasn’t the first time today she’d been praised like this, but Janet reacted like a camel being offered water.  “Thank you?”

Her mother shook her head, but kept smiling. “Really, sweetie. Take the compliment. I’m proud of you.”

“Why is it a good thing we don’t have a playmat?”

Helen Foster beamed.  “Be right back.”  She practically skipped off after his husband.

“Is this normally what Unification is like in your family?” I whispered.

“Kind of,” Janet whispered back. “Mom normally goes through the fridge and pantry and starts making a grocery list for the feast.  Dad plops down and watches football.”

“What’s going on now?” I asked.

“No clue,” Janet answered.  “They’re up to something.”

We didn’t have to wait long to find out. The pair came back out to the living room not two minutes later. Her dad had a rainbow colored blanket tucked under his arm, with the surface divided up into different colored squares.  It almost looked like a two dimensional rendering of an unsolved Rubix cube.  It had a slicker sheen compared to the cottony softness of a proper blanket, but still wrinkled and furrowed from the pressure of the man’s grip.  Her mom carried two rectangular gift wrapped boxes, the smaller one stacked on top of the larger.

“This one is from your Nana,” her dad said to me. He unfolded it once and doubled the surface area. Then again. And again. And again. It was an infinite newspaper that doubled over on it self and folded out of his direct control.  “Just a second,” he grumbled, shaking it like an over starched bedsheet.  It laid it on the ground in front of the television. The factory made creases were barely visible when it was all laid out.

“Every baby should have a space that’s for them,” her mother said. “Keep them safe and make them feel welcome, and it still be theirs.  It’s his house too!”  

“Oooooh,” Janet said, clearly relieved. “That’s why you were glad he didn’t have a mat or a playpen!”

“Can’t spoil my grand baby if I get him something he already has,” she said, smugly. She was proud of herself and in no way attempting to hide it.  “Give it a try.”

Janet took me off her hip and lowered me down by the armpits onto the thin padded mat.  My bare feet touched the bright patchwork pattern and my weight settled.  “It’s…” I stopped and couldn’t help but marvel at it. “Oh…”

The mat couldn't have been three millimeters thick unfurled as it was. Somehow, it was the softest and most forgiving thing. I’d ever been on. It was better than my old bed. I felt aches in my feet that I didn’t know I had start to vanish. The fibers in the foam pushed back in equal measure to the weight I was pressing down on.  “Oh…oh wow…”  

I took a knee and felt the same sensation massaging my legs back in turn. “Wow…”  From a purely tactile standpoint, this was literally the most comfortable I could ever remember being in my whole life. I felt the half-slick half-stick of vinyl on my bear skin, but cushioning made me feel weightless.

“I think he likes it, Nana,” the older man chuckled.

“He should,” his wife said back. “With as much as that cost, I’d hope so.”

“Yeah, we might have to delay our retirement by a year with how much this thing was.”

“Mom! Dad!” Janet gasped. “You didn’t!”

“Your father’s just being dramatic, dear.”

Speaking of dramatic, I stood up to my feet, took a breath and dove straight forward into the center, belly flopping with a sickening thud.

“Clark!” Janet said. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmhmmm,” I buzzed between my lips.  Even kissing this thing felt good.

“He’s fine, Pookie.” Her dad said. “That mat is the safest spot in the house. I could powerbomb him onto that thing and he wouldn’t get a bruise.”

It was true. If not for the texture beneath me I might think I was floating. I rolled over onto my back, and closed my eyes.  It would be very easy for a Little to get used to this type of comfort. The world outside the thin cushioned square would seem so much harder and harsher in comparison.  I was as reluctant to get up and walk around as if the perfect cat had curled up on my chest and started purring. I could nap here. I could play here.  I could stay here.  If only I had my tablet, I could be so bold as to lay on here and tinker all day.

Tablet!

I stopped breathing and forced myself to rise. I looked up at Janet and about faced, toddled in the opposite direction.  The soles of my feet screamed at me upon stepping off, but I persevered. The car ride was over, but I was still putting on a show.  “Thank you Nana,” I said, wrapping my arms around the woman’s legs and burying my head into her thighs. “I really like your gift.”  It hurt to say because it was true.  Such marvels the Amazons created.  If only they came in ‘adult’.

“You’re welcome, baby boy,” she said. The air whooshed by me in an instant and I opened my eyes to find myself resting on her hip.  As long as she didn’t tickle me. I was carried away to the couch and sat down.  The other two giants migrated towards me, and loomed, Janet to the left of her mother, and her father to the right.  I was surrounded and scrutinized on a couch cushion stage.  This was my baby shower all over again.

“This next present is from your Pop Pop,” the Foster family matriarch said.  She handed me the larger of the two gift wrapped boxes.  The paper was baby blue with repeating storks carrying bundles dotting it in even geometrically precise spacing. “It’s very special.”

“It’s not as fancy as the playmat,” her dad explained, “but I hope you’ll like it anyways.”

“I’m sure he will, Dad.”

Yup. Still performing. Gift giving as a ritual was often more about the gift giver feeling appreciated than the gift itself. Especially gifts from Grown-Ups to perceived children.  I poked at the box and felt the give. Thin cardboard. I’d heard no rattling inside. This was clothing of some kind.  “What is it?”

“Go ahead and open it,” Janet said. “Find out.”

“Yeah, you can do it Clarky boy,” her father encouraged. “Rip it up!”

My so called Nana eyed me hungrily. “Or I can hel-” I ripped into the thin paper as if it were fall of the bone baby back ribs, and threw off the plain white box top as if I were a lion gutting its kill.  “Never mind!” They all laughed at that one.

With the gifted clothing still concealed behind a thin line of white tissue paper, I braced myself and readied to mask my emotions.  I’d already had sailor suits, onesies with embarrassing slogans, and shortalls with cutesy decorations so there was no hope of passing as anything older than two foisted upon me.  The onesie I was presently wearing was an infantilized mockery of my old wardrobe. Short of the sort of dress that Ivy might wear and the mandate that for as long as they were in town I would have to play the part of their granddaughter, I couldn’t imagine worse.

I was correct and happy for it. Beyond the dead paper lay a flood of red, black, and gold. Sports jerseys, hockey, football, baseball, and basketball were folded inside. Some loose fitting shorts, too.  All were a bloody crimson with black trim, on them a noble lion emblazoned in gold somewhere on the chest staring seriously forward. It wasn’t my goofy dead eyed lion with it’s vacant stitched on smile, of course, but it was still a very good mascot.

“The Leos?” I read the team name off one of the many jerseys.

“University of Nemeanna Leos,” Bill puffed out his chest. “My old Alma Mater.” He waggled his finger.  

“You uh…”I looked over the inventory, “Got me a little bit of everything.” I smiled as best as I could.  Clothing was rarely the most exciting gift for me, especially when I was a kid the first time around.  It was easy to fake the manners. “Thank you, Pop Pop!”


“That’s just the first part of your present, Clarky boy. The second part is a promise.”  I didn’t ask what.  Didn’t have to.  “I’ve got season tickets to just about every home game for every big sport,” he said. “Whenever you and your Mommy come and visit Nana and Pop Pop, we’ll have us a boys’ day out and watch a game. I got a matching outfit for every one of those, so we’ll be rolling in style, kiddo.”

Janet indicated a sporty looking polyester shirt and matching pants that was second from bottom.  “Even the male cheerleader outfit, Daddy?”

“Ahhhh, no.” her dad fiddled with his hand on top of his head. “Your mother made me put that one in, Pookie.”

“I think Clark would look very cute,” Helen said, “dressed up and helping the real cheerleaders from the stands.”

My tongue worked around the back of my teeth, trying to muster some form of sincerity.  I wasn’t going to be visiting.  But the old guy just met me and wanted to spend time with me sharing his favorite past times.  In some ways that was just as impressive as any of the gadgets.  “Thank you Pop Pop.”  It was easier to smile that time.

“Dad,” Janet interrupted, “how are you going to do a boys’ day out if you’re not changing diapers?”

Realization flashed on his face. “I…did not think about that.” A splash of color painted itself on his cheeks as he said, “Maybe one of you girls could tag along.”

“You don’t wanna spend time with just me, Pop Pop?”  My eyes became big and mournful. “Just because I’m a baby?”

Janet was resting her chin on her hand, her fingers fanning out over her lips, forcing herself to look away lest she bust out laughing. She knew what I was doing.

“No…uh…Clark..it’s…it’s-it’s it’s not that. It’s just that…”

“If Mommy and Nana are gone,” I pretended to choke up, “am I gonna have to sit in my mess until they get back?” Both giantesses smirked and drilled holes into the man’s skull using only their gaze.  

“Yeah, Pop Pop,” Janet said.  “Is he?”

“Do you not know how?” my voice cracked.  “Is that it?”

“Yeah, Bill,” his wife drilled into him.  “Is that it? Are you a slow learner?”

I didn’t think the man could get pinker. Outside I was fighting back tears. Inside I was cackling. That’ll teach him to pull the old fart joke on me.  “I’m sorry, Pop Pop,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.  I can’t help it.  I try to be big like you, but I ca-”

“What I meant to say is that uh…” he took off his hat and mopped his brow with it, fighting against his own stubbornness and embarrassment in the moment.  “What I meant to say is that I’m not changing any diapers here!  I’m on vacation, you know.”  No one interrupted him, leaving him to drown in his own quiet. “Buuuuut…when you two come visit us, I guess it’d be your vacation.  So yeah, Clark. I’ll pack a diaper bag.”

Any looming waterworks were turned off. Proportional revenge complete.

“I’m holding you to that, Bill,” Janet’s mother said.

“As long as I can get it in Leo colors, I’ll be fine,” he replied. Then to me he said, “keep digging Clarky boy, there’s one you missed.”

I piled Little sized jerseys daintily one on top of the other in the reverse order that they’d revealed themselves.  Down at the bottom of the clothes’ box was one final shirt. It was the same red, black, and gold design as its predecessors but its colors were worn and faded. I dug in with both hands and unfurled it.  The thing blanketed me; practically a circus tent.

“Dad,” Janet gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Mhm,” he said. “Lemme show you, something.” He reached over and gently took it from my grasp. I gave it up without resistance. It’d have been difficult to read without him holding the thing for me. He turned it around so that I could read the back.

“Foster,” I read aloud. “Number forty-eight.”

“Pop Pop’s old football jersey from when he was in college,” he proudly said. “For you, bud.”  

Janet was beside herself with surprise. “Dad, you never take that thing out of its case!”

“Not true,” he said. “It’s the first shirt you ever wore. Soon as we got you home from the hospital.  I got the baby pictures to prove it.”

Now it was Janet’s turn to fight back tears; the difference being she wasn’t faking it. This dumb shirt from the guy’s glory days gone past really meant something to him. “Why?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Seemed right. I don’t got any heirlooms or whatever that a kid would want.  Figured maybe he could use it as a sleep shirt or something.  You did.”

“You’re not dying or anything are you?”

“Ha!” he bellowed. “Pookie, I just made our Little rugrat a promise to take him to a game and pack a diaper bag. I gotta live forever if I’m gonna make that sacrifice worth it.”

“Oh,” Janet laughed to herself, embarrassed. “Yeah.” She regained her composure. “Clark, say thank you.”  This was not a request.

Even I could read the room well enough to know there are some buttons left unpushed. Also, I’d never gotten an heirloom before.  Sometimes it really is the thought that counts.  “Thank you, Pop Pop! I love it!”

He put the old worn jersey back in the box with care normally reserved for holy artifiacts. “You’re welcome, kiddo.  And I love you too.”

Janet’s mom took charge again.  “This last present is from both of us,” she handed me the smallest gift. It was wrapped identically, but the case beneath was stiffer and had less give.  She said to Janet, “It’s technically for Clark, but it might be a present for you too, dear.”

“Probably should have let him open up this one, first,” her dad said. “But it’s kind of nice in a practical sort of way.”

I tore open the wrapping paper carelessly tossing it aside, curious to see what next oddly thoughtful or convenient gift had been bestowed to me from the pair of doting would-be grandparents. My disappointment and horror showed only in my faint reflection thanks to my placing the ‘gift’ directly in front of my face.

It was a DVD case, still wrapped and vacuum sealed. It sparkled in tinfoil silver. The cover was two lightly stenciled  children, one girl and one boy, wearing simple pastel colored t-shirts, pink and blue respectively. They were barefoot but wore plain white panties and briefs.

Yet when I tilted the case just so, the holographic cover changed. The girl and boy looked less chubby, their limbs slightly longer. Their t-shirts sized down with them, but the outline of their underwear remained the same, seeming much puffier by comparison.  The frills on the waistline of the girl’s panties and the front fold panel on the boy’s briefs disappeared, each replaced with the tiny rectangles on either side representing diaper tapes. And just as quickly, moving it changed it once more.  Littles in diapers turned into Amazon toddlers in undies and back again.

The title at the top, changed similarly.  Look at it dead on and it was “Potty Time: No More Diapers!”  Tilt your head less than an inch and it was “Potty Time? No! More Diapers!”  A hypno-cartoon.  Three guesses to what watching it did. The first two don’t count.

I slammed the door shut on any and all emotions and made my mask up.  “Here, Mommy,” I said. “It’s for you.”

“We know some Littles have a hard time accepting their diapers,” Janet’s Mom spoke over my muted horror.  “This video is supposed to help with that.”

“Yeah, it’s a potty training video,” her dad said, placing his hat back on his head. “Teaches kids all about using the potty and lets them decide if they’re ready for it, y’know.”  

Janet’s expression became identical to my own.  “Mhm,” she said. “That’s what it says on the back.”

“One of our neighbors recommended it,“ her mother went on. “He’s got three Little girls. We were there when he adopted the third. She was so fussy for that first week, but then she started getting better.”

Bill tagged in. “Says he just plopped the tots down in front of the screen for an hour every day, and before he knew it, they were singing the songs and laughing like nobody’s business.  No more fuss about being big girls.”

Janet cracked open the case and turned it over in the way one might examine a weapon. “It’s double sided.”

“Yeah,” her father nodded, oblivious to Janet’s quiet panic and outrage once more. “One for the Littles, one for regular kids.  Same basic story or whatever, but different characters. Kids like to see characters that look like them, you know?”

Were they really so basic? So willfully ignorant? So…so…typical?  Evidently, yes.

“That way parents with Littles and Amazon children can show them each a cartoon that will help them decide if they’re ready for the big kid potty or not,” her mother concluded. “Let them each develop and mature at their own pace.”

Knowingly or not, what she really meant was that the video could be used to actually help potty train children, while mindfucking Littles into liking their forced infantilizations. In some instances, they could give themselves plausible deniability by flipping it over to the safe side depending on whether or not hypnosis was legal in an area or not.

“Clark?” Janet’s dad broke in. “You okay there, Clarky boy? You’re lookin’ awfully red, there. Is he pooping, Pookie?”

“Mom. Dad.” Janet said. “I really appreciate the gift, but Clark-”

“I’m not potty trained!” I burst out. “I’m just a baby! I like my diapers! The potty scares me! It’s too stressful!  I don’t wanna learn again!”  I smiled, but only because I was reflexively fighting down sobbing in terror.

Janet nudged her mother aside and picked me up. “I don’t think it’s needed,” she said softly.  “But thank you for the thought.”  She rubbed and patted my back, trying her best to soothe me

“Is he crying?” her mother asked. “Clark? What’s wrong, baby?”

“Knew we should have led with that one,” her father lamented. “Should have gone practical gift, sentimental gift, fun gift.  Movie and clothes; jersey; playmat.”

Janet answered for me.  “I think Clark’s just a tad overstimulated. It’s been a big day.” The perfect lie was a half truth.  “Why don’t we go get you dressed up in one of these outfits?” Janet said in a way that wasn’t exactly asking.  I felt her lean forward and grab one of them. “Then you can show Pop Pop Lion and lay on the mat. Maybe take a nice nap?”

“Good idea, Pookie.”

“Take your time, dear,” her mother agreed. “I know how babies can be. Sometimes they just need their Mommies, right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

“Maybe give him some milk, too.  That always calmed you down when you were that little. You’re breastfeeding right?”

My right hand quietly snuck behind Janet’s neck and my nails dug into the back of her neck; I was a cat threatening with my claws.  “We’re experimenting with formula and juice at the moment,” Janet said.  “Trying to figure out what works best for him.”

“Breast is best, dear.”

“Thank you, Mother.” she quickly stepped away.  “‘Scuse us.”

“What channel gets sports, Pookie?” her dad called out.

“Thirty-five, Daddy!”

“I’m going to take inventory so I can make my casserole.”

“Sure, Mom!”

My skin boiled. I let myself forget how completely awful most Amazons could be. How callous they were in their indifference; how aggressive they were in how they smothered you; how utterly self-centered and ego-centric; how determined they were to view themselves as something other than what they were.  Typical.

Janet shut the nursery door behind us and locked it.  “I am not breastfeeding!” I hissed. My voice whispered even though my face shouted.

“I know,” she said, her face still a mask of placid calm it had been; just shy of full frigid cold. “I’m not intending to make you.” She laid me down on the changing table. “You did very well out there. Thank you.”

I struggled to turn my countenance into something besides the snarl of a rabid animal.  “You’re welcome. What are you going to do about that movie?”

She showed me.  She took the DVD, held it up I could see it, snapped it in half, and shoved both halves down the diaper pail.  “This.”

Witnessing the vile disc’s destruction made my pulse start to slow. “Yeah.  Okay.  Thanks, Janet.”

“Welcome.”  I was on the changing table for a reason. She repositioned herself and undid my tapes.  “See why I was stressed?”

I nodded, “Mhm.”

“They’re good parents, but they’re like that sometimes.” That wasn’t the defense she thought it was.  

“I’m gonna lose it, Janet. I’m gonna lose it.” I plopped my hands on top of my face.

“You’re doing great,” she said, cleansing me and powdering me as she always did. “I think the worst is over.  They’re only going to be here for a couple days. They’re here tomorrow, and leave on Friday.”

Friday felt a long way away after that rollercoaster of awkward.  “Why are you changing me anyway?”  I groaned. “I’m not that wet.”

“Would you rather my mother change you? I’m trying to stay ahead of the game here.”

My hands didn’t move from my face. “Honestly? I don’t care.”  Almost every other woman in my life had gotten into my pants by this point. A couple men too. What was one more at this stage?   “If she wants to, let her.  Give me chili and coffee three meals a day.  Just get her to stop tickling me, shut her up about the breastfeeding and stop being so…so…”

“Herself?”  

Not my preferred word, but - “Kinda, yeah.”

Janet finished changing me and took the last remnants of one costume off so she could swap me into another. “Hope you like being a cheerleader,” she said. “It was top of the pile. Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“You can bring Lion and torture him on the play mat.” She snorted and said, “Actually, Dad might get a kick out of that.”

“Can I do stupid stuff like belly flops on top of him?”

“No.”

“Mommy!” I whined, my hands still covering my face.  “It’s comfy”

“Fine,” she grunted, slipping the polyester leggings over me. “But nothing that could land you on your head. No flips or anything.”

“Can I land on Lion’s head?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

****************************************************************************************************

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Janet and her mother made a grocery run. Over that hour I alternated between suplexing Lion onto the impossibly soft mat, and just zonking out and watching football with her dad.  

“You a wrestler?” Bill asked.  

“No. But I’d rather pretend that than be a cheerleader.’

“Atta boy.”

Everything was draining to the point where if I did dream, I don’t remember it. Tomorrow was going to be rough. Family gatherings like Unification were always rough. That it wasn’t my family I’d be with didn’t help. What would the Braun’s be doing without us?  Did they at least get my letter?

I banished the grim contemplation from my mind before I realized I was awake. No nightmares plagued me, forcing my conscious mind to swim through the darkness of dreamland up into a terrible waking world to get a gulp of fresh air. My bladder was no longer in the habit of obeying me without active vigilance, so my slumber was uninterrupted by a stretched bladder requesting release. No joints or muscles ached from age that my captors would rather deny.

“Fuck,” I cursed. I rolled over onto my stomach and felt the uncomfortable rock in my gut.  I rolled back and felt a fullness between my cheeks and a desire to push.  I had to poop.  There were no sharp pangs or cramps. No terrible wave of gut racking pain to force me to violate myself.  It was simple, mundane discomfort. Just enough for my conscious mind to hone in on to prevent it from drifting back off. The kind of  distress that was only urgent if it was sleep I craved.  

Shit myself and lay in it until Janet got up.  Or stay up until well past dawn with nothing to occupy my time.  Alone with my shit or alone with my thoughts.  What a choice.  I sat up and stared at the baby monitor.  Maybe not…

As I had done too many times before, I crawled over and grabbed crib rails. I stood up and closed my eyes, ignoring the circus tent of a shirt draped around my body. Janet had had to safety pin the neck shut so that it didn’t slip off me at the color.  Enough of that, for now. I picked a spot behind my eyelids, tried not to think about where I was, and pushed as hard as I could.  
A few seconds, and some muffled farts later, the mess came out of me, same as it always did. As hydrated as Janet kept me with all the fruits and fiber she made sure to make me eat, the act was literally easier than it ever had been. Any other reason was soundly rejected by my mind.

A few intense pants passed while I built up the nerve to use the baby monitor for its intended purpose.  Fuck it.  “Mommy!” I called.  The light in the darkness started blinking. “Mommy, I need changed, please.” The light kept blinking. Had she heard it?  “Mommy? Are you there?”

No footsteps came.  No calls or voices from the monitor or the hallway.  No way of knowing if the message had gone through.

“Mommy? Are you there?  Can you hear me?”

The door opened. A familiar shadow, outlined by the nightlight crept in.  “Hey hey, Clark,” a voice whispered. “Need a new diaper?”

“Janet?”

“Nana,” she corrected me. She walked up to the crib, the specifics of her face only becoming apparent when she was by the railing. In the dark she looked and sounded so much like my Mommy.

“What are you?”

“My room is closer,” she spoke softly. “I heard you crying.”  Two hands lifted me out of the crib.  “Let’s get you sorted out and back to bed.”

The door creaked.  “Mom?” Janet’s voice sleepily called from the darkness.

“I’ve got him, Janet.  Go back to bed dear.”  She laid me down and hiked up the sleep shirt so that my diaper was exposed and ready for operation.  Impressive considering the darkness.

“Is he okay?”

“Just a messy diaper,” her mother reported. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.” She spared a moment to lean out and press the button on the monitor to stop it from broadcasting.

“You sure?”

My win condition was not spending the night in a shitty Monkeez and getting off to sleep feeling dry.  Didn’t matter who helped with the first objective, as long as it happened fast so I could stay groggy and achieve the second.  “I’m fine, Mommy.”

“Okay,” Janet yawned. “Night Mom.  Night Clark. I love you.’

“Love you too,” Janet’s mother called back. That was enough for Janet to sleepily shuffle back across the house.  

I laid on the changing table with my eyes closed and grumbled while the strap was fastened across me.  Maybe I could pass out mid change. Maybe I’d be allowed to sleep in till nine or ten. That’d be nice.  Maybe I could weasel that out of Janet’s folks in the name of ‘spoiling’ me.

“You didn’t say, ‘I love you’ back to your Mommy,” the Amazons said. “Why’s that?”

I yawned and feigned being sleepier than I really was.  “Hm? She did?”

Quiet tongue clicks came in reply.  “Oh, Littles. It’s a good thing you’re all so cute. Otherwise I don’t know what we’d do with you.” I suppressed a snide remark about leaving us alone so she could start to clean me up.

“Don’t you wanna turn the light on?” I asked. “Not miss a spot?”

“I can see well enough, Little boy,” she snipped. “Thank you.”

Yikes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You can’t help it.”

The conversation paused only as long as it took for her to ball up the used diaper and pile it on top of the broken hypno-cartoon. “Help what?”

The giantess pivoted the conversation. “I’m really happy that Janet found you when she did,” she said. “I think you’re good for her.”

My eyes started adjusting to the darkness. The strangest sense of deja vu washed over me, like waves of cold ocean water splashing up against me as I was buried up to my neck on the beach. I’d heard something like this before. Not from her. Not from any Amazon. Different lyrics, same melody.  “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome, baby,” her voice softened an instant. She used too much cream, smeared it everywhere.  “I’m glad she had the restraint to wait till after the divorce to Adopt you.”

Very different lyrics.  But a hauntingly familiar melody.  “Why? Was he abusive?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. But you and Edward wouldn’t have gotten along.”  Now it was too much powder.  All the way to my belly button.

The last time I’d heard this song, there had been organ music accompanying it. I’d been wearing a rented tuxedo. “Why?”

“You’d have fought,” Janet’s mother said. “And that’s not right. Picking on a baby for something he can’t help.  It’s not like you’d be an actual threat to anyone.” The diaper covered me up, feeling off, crooked. It wasn’t quite right. Needed to be realigned.  “Your Mommy loves you. Just not like that.  Not like you love her.”

The last time I’d heard this ditty, a Little with the muscle mass of a Tweener was keeping his hand on my shoulder, and started it with ‘If you ever hurt her…’.

‘“Huh?”

The strap went loose. I was lifted off and placed back down in the crib. A blanket was drawn over me.  “No need to be ashamed, baby boy.” In the darkness Helen Foster’s voice sounded far more sinister; her shadow cloaked smile looked far more predatory.  “It’s natural. Your Mommy’s very nice, and very pretty. I bet from your perspective, you had a crush. Thought she liked you back.”

“A crush?” I echoed stupidly.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t stop listening.

“She does love you back,” the old woman repeated. “Just not like that.”

“Like what?!”   Why was I asking this?  Why did it feel like there was an ice pick positioned directly above my heart?

Helen Foster’s hand brushed against my tangled mess of hair. “I see how you look at her, dear. You’re not the first Little who fell in love with a Grown-Up and got Adopted instead. You won’t be the last.  Probably not what you were fantasizing about when you two met, but you’re still one of us. You’re family, baby boy. Your Mommy loves you more than you’ll ever know. Nana and Pop Pop love you, too.”

I’d heard this song before. Different lyrics.  Same melody. Except for the last line, which they had in common. “Welcome to the family, Clark.”

She left the nursery and quietly closed the door behind her.

I didn’t go back to sleep.