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Wednesday: 2’10”
I awoke in my bed the next morning, in a haze from the events of the previous night. But, unlike yesterday morning, I now felt more lasting effects from Kyra’s intoxication. The feelings of happiness and warmth were still strong. I told myself that I couldn’t let her control my mind and soul so easily, but my legs didn’t listen as they quickly got me out of bed and down the stairs to greet Kyra again.
Things were just so … nice now. She fed me a delightful breakfast in her lap, and it might have kinda been my idea when she carried me around the house as she got ready for work, my arms wrapped affectionately around her neck the entire time. It felt nice.
Even the long hours at work went by quicker, as my eyes mostly remained trained on Kyra’s figure hunched over her desk hard at work. I was sad to see her leave at 12:30 for an especially long practice, but was all the more delighted when she returned at 5:00 to take me home. During the ride, it struck me how little I had paid attention to Ms. Johnson or Ms. Adams whenever they walked by or said something; they didn’t really seem matter to me much anymore.
But, after dinner, Kyra hit me with some horrible news: she was going to leave me alone for the rest of the night. I was actually brought to tears as I begged her to stay; I had been looking forward to our alone time all day long. But she refused to give up her date that night and was soon walking out the door, leaving me all by myself. Apparently she trusted me so much now that she felt I could stay out of trouble on my own, not even bothering to give a stern threat of punishment should I stray.
I could think of nothing to do but lay down on my bed in a stupor, unable to sleep but unwilling to do anything that required movement. Everything just seemed so dull without … well, without her around.
Around 10:00 I heard the door open. Realizing I was still dressed and lying on top of the covers, I quickly threw my clothes off and tucked myself in, in case she saw I was still up so far past my bedtime. I pretended to be asleep when, 10 minutes later, she opened my door and poked her head in. I wanted to jump up and give Mommy a hug, but I also didn’t want to disobey her. However, after all the lights were turned out I waited an additional 15 minutes to make sure she was in bed, and then I decided to risk it and tell her I couldn’t sleep.
I quietly tiptoed out of my room and across the hallway, ever-so-slowly turning the doorknob and pushing her door open. I could remember where the creaky spots on the floor were from all my years living in this room myself, back when I was a grown man, so long ago. I silently approached the bedside and watched Mommy sleep for a few moments, her body turned on its side towards me.
“Mommy,” I whispered almost inaudibly. No response. “Mommy,” I repeated, a little louder. In the darkness, I saw her eyelids slowly open as she found me standing in front of her.
Sitting up, she asked with concern, “What is it, Jimmy?”
“I can’t sleep,” I told her truthfully; in the past I would never have thought to seek out someone else for comfort when I couldn’t sleep, but I had found a new connection with her that I hadn’t felt before.
“Aww, poor thing. Come snuggle next to Mommy.”
“Thank you!” I said gratefully as her arms reached out and hoisted me onto her bed, a task which would have taken quite some effort on my own. Still drowsy from sleep, Mommy pulled me tightly into her, turning me around so that her breasts pressed firmly across almost my entire back as her arms completely encircled me. She was holding me to her like a cherished teddy bear, and I was more than happy to oblige her. “Good night, Mommy,” I told her.
“Good night, Jimmy,” she said, dozing off a few minutes later. I was exactly where I wanted to be right now, enveloped by Mommy’s gigantic arms, held snugly against her chest. The outside world seemed cold and cruel by comparison. I rested my head on the inside of Mommy’s upper arm and soon drifted off into a deep slumber.
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Thursday: 2’8”
It was the perfect start to my day, waking up in Mommy’s arms exactly where I had fallen asleep the night before. The only difference was that now I was facing towards her, my vision completely filled with her chest and shoulders, now seeming noticeably bigger after I lost another two inches. Every inch that I lost now was a significant change, but for the first time I saw this change as almost a good thing, in a way. It meant Mommy could hold me even easier, and that I had even more of her to hold on to. She was becoming a bigger and bigger part of my life, both literally and metaphorically.
I kept still for another 15 minutes, enjoying my position immensely, until Mommy woke up as well. “Why, hello there,” she said languorously. I craned my neck and looked up into her eyes with perfect happiness. Her arms uncoiled from my body and extended in a long stretch, which along with the arching of her back caused her sublime bosom to jut forward even tighter into my small chest. My mouth began to water as I eyed her deep cleavage hungrily, unable to help myself from bringing my hands over to fondle her breasts slowly.
“Oh my, looks like someone’s a little frisky,” she purred lazily, grinning down at me. She sat up, resting her upper back against the headrest while pulling my 15-pound frame onto her lap. “I believe I owe you some happy time from yesterday.” I was overjoyed to hear this, nodding my head in eager anticipation. I had been hoping for this, but hadn’t said anything.
Laying my back along her upper arm, she cradled me against her chest while slowly rubbing her opposite hand up my inner thigh. I gasped and writhed in pleasure as her hand rubbed firmly up the length of my shaft, which was now about the size of her pinky. I felt her electric touch through my underwear as she tenderly worked her hand up and down my crotch.
I came in a matter of seconds, after which Mommy cooed, “There we go. Gooood boy.” When my spasms had subsided, Mommy wrapped me up in her arms, carried me to the hallway bathroom, peeled off my wet underwear, and set me into the shower, getting the water running for me. I had gotten my hopes up that she would let me shower with her, but alas she told me cheerfully, “Don’t take too long, Jimmy. We’re running a bit late.” As she stepped away and walked out of sight, I was suddenly saddened to see her go. I decided to take a quick shower, the sooner to see her again.
We were both happy as can be as Mommy fed me breakfast and got her things together. I didn’t say a word as she drove us to work and carried me inside the building, not needing words to enjoy my time with her.
That morning was hard on me, watching Mommy from my playpen but unable to hold her or touch her, and having her ignore me most of the time in favor of her work. But, not letting my mood sour, I looked forward to lunch time, when I would be back in her arms again.
12:00 rolled around, and Ms. Johnson poked her head in to invite Mommy and Ms. Adams to lunch. “Sounds delightful!” they replied, getting up and heading out of the cubicle.
“Wait! What about me!?” I called out anxiously, not wanting Mommy to leave without me, as well as not wanting to be left hungry.
The three towering women turned their heads back to my cage, until then having completely forgotten about little me. “Just stay there, Jimmy. We’ll be back in a while,” Kyra told me.
“Please don’t leave me here, Mommy!” I whined.
“It’s OK, Jimmy. I’ll bring back something for you to eat.”
I was unable to express my desire to stay with her as the three of them headed out without further delay. I plopped down on the floor as they left, disappointed and hungry. A tear rolled down my cheek, showing how unable I was to control my emotions anymore. But I didn’t care about that; I just wanted Mommy back.
They sure didn’t rush themselves at the restaurant on my behalf, that’s for sure. Over the next hour, though, a new, more pressing concern had overtaken my hunger: my bladder was about to burst. I had held it in as long as I could, but in a matter of minutes there would be no stopping it. Since it was lunch hour, most people were gone from the office, and those that remained were sitting around in their time off, meaning that I had little chance of attracting the attention of any passers-by. I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands.
With great effort I managed to hoist myself onto the railing of my playpen and tumble over the side. It was fortunate that I weighed practically nothing, otherwise the whole apparatus would have probably tumbled down on top of me as I leaned over. But, free of that obstacle, I dashed towards the restroom, wanting to get back as soon as humanly possible with as few people seeing me as I could manage.
But I didn’t make it far. As I rounded a corner I slammed right into a towering pair of trouser-clad legs. “Whoa there, watch it!” a booming male voice said above me. I looked up and saw my former coworker, Kevin, a guy I always secretly despised. I fortunately never interacted with him much, but he was one of those wanna-be macho, insulting, lewd frat-boy types. I always found him kind of a nuisance, but now that I was even shorter than his legs I felt immediately intimidated.
Anxious to get to the bathroom, I tried to dart around him, but, being the jackass he was, he stepped in the side to block my way. “Say, if it isn’t James!” he mocked. “Hey, why don’t you stay a while; me and the guys were just having a beer.” I looked into his cubicle and saw 3 others from the office, with more-or-less similar personalities as Kevin.
“No thanks,” I replied meekly, but as I lunged the other way he easily blocked my path again.
“No, really. Have a beer with us.” To make it clear that it wasn’t optional, he reached down and gave me a light shove towards his buddies, although that ‘light’ shove sent me sprawling to the ground in the middle of the cubicle.
I began to understand what frat house hazing was like as I was subjected to a chorus of jeers and snide comments, dressed up as innocent questions due to the workplace environment, but clearly meant to be demeaning – questions like, “How’s the weather down there?” and “Been playin’ much hoops lately?” I tried to duck out but someone’s hand would always be there to block me.
“How ‘bout a beer, little dude?” Kevin asked, extending a cold 12-oz to me. When I refused to take it, several pairs of hands began jostling me from all sides, pushing my back and holding my arm up to the can, all the while calling, “C’mon, buddy! You’re not going to refuse a friendly drink with us, are you?”
The can was basically shoved into my hands, and someone was ‘kind’ enough to pop the top for me. Damn, it was the heaviest drink I’d ever held, and I knew there was no way in hell I could finish it. Sure, normally I could chug a beer no problem, but to my shrunken stomach and liver, it was as big as a whole damned pitcher. But I couldn’t resist the hands bringing the flagon of ale to my mouth and tilting it downward, causing a massive stream of beer to wash into my mouth.
I gulped instinctively, desperately trying to clear my mouth, but the beer just kept on coming. I’m sure plenty of it spilled down my chin and several times I gagged and coughed from the endless surge of liquid, but with my head held back by these assholes I couldn’t help but imbibe at least half of the beverage into my tiny stomach. I must have chugged the equivalent of several beers by the time it was empty, from my diminished perspective.
They gave a round of cheers when I finished, telling me how ‘awesome’ I was for finishing it – not like they gave me any choice. Pleased by my performance, they finally let me get on with my quest for the bathroom – and by the way, my bladder hadn’t gotten any less full in those couple minutes. But, as I stumbled out of the cubicle to another round of laughter at my expense, the alcohol was quickly getting to me, and by the time I reached the bathroom I could hardly stay on my own two feet. It sure didn’t help that my stomach was completely empty, allowing the alcohol to course through my body even faster.
Damn, did I have to piss! I clumsily reached up for the handle of the bathroom door and tugged, but to no effect. I reached both hands up and yanked harder, only managing to crack the door open a little bit. More dizzy with every passing second, I gave one last desperate heave and opened the door a couple inches this time. But, as I sloppily let go of the handle and reached out to hold the door open with my forearm, I whiffed and fell forward, stumbling against the door in a drunken stupor.
And then it was too late. I felt a warmth pass down my inner thigh as I looked down and saw a growing wet spot around my crotch. Son. Of. A. Bitch. But I couldn’t stop it now, as the rest of my bladder was emptied onto my shorts and all the way down my leg, even soaking my socks and shoes. And how did I react to all this? Well, I simply cried like a baby. My drunkenness certainly didn’t help contain any emotions as I stumbled into a corner and bawled loudly.
“Are you OK?” I vaguely heard a voice call from behind me. Rolling my head over, I saw Vicky, the receptionist, approach. As she concernedly turned my body towards her she let out a surprised gasp, seeing my shorts, legs, and socks soaked in urine. I only managed a hiccup in reply.
“Um …” she said, unsure of how to proceed. “Maybe … follow me and wait for Kyra to show up?” she offered, her tone serious but sounding quite a bit as if she were speaking to a child. I couldn’t blame her, though.
She ducked into the bathroom to get some paper towels so that my soggy pants wouldn’t get anything wet while I waited. And I was too far gone to be able to walk by myself, so she held my arm up above my head and guided me along. Several times I tripped and would have fallen, except that she easily suspended my 15-pound body in the air to prevent my fall.
By the time we reached reception, though, the three ladies had returned from lunch and were walking directly towards us. I couldn’t have fled if I wanted, though, being held fast by Vicky’s massive hand, and being too drunk to get anywhere even if my hand were free.
“Oh ... my … God! What’s going on here?” Mommy demanded sternly.
My tongue and my brain were not on the same page, and a complete jumble of words escaped my mouth. Vicky spoke up in my stead. “I found him in a corner by the bathroom after he peed his pants. And he’s been acting really strange since.”
“I thought we told you to stay put!” Ms. Adams told me, hands on her hips in an angry, threatening pose.
“That’s right,” Mommy agreed. “What are you doing out here? And how could you wet yourself like that?” She took my hand from Vicky and leaned toward me, waiting for a response. But then she sniffed several times, smelling my strong breath. “What is that?” she asked, bewildered. Getting down on her knees and bringing her nose up to my face, she ordered, “Open your mouth.” I did as she asked, not as terrified as I would have been thanks to my inebriation. “Oh my God. Tell me that isn’t what I think it is.”
“Let me smell,” Ms. Johnson said, getting down on one knee to smell as well. Ms. Adams did the same, and I now had three giant heads in front of my face, sniffing my breath while shooting me vicious stares.
“I’m afraid you’re right, Kyra,” Ms. Johnson assessed. “That’s the smell of beer, no doubt about it.”
“Yes, for sure,” Ms. Adams confirmed with a dark scowl on her face.
Meanwhile, Mommy’s eyes filled with rage, causing me to recoil in fear even in my drunken state. “How the HELL did my two-year-old boy get a hold of alcohol!!!?” she bellowed, loud enough for the whole office to hear. If there were anything left in my bladder I surely would have pissed my pants again. But, to my relief, the brunt of her wrath was apparently focused on finding the guilty party in the office. She rose to her feet and, with fists clenched, called out again, “Who did this!!?”
No one spoke up, causing Mommy to get even more animated. “Speak up!!” she yelled.
Ms. Johnson added, her voice dead serious, “Whoever did this, if you don’t speak up this instant you’re fired.”
“OK, OK, it was me,” a voice called out. I watched as Kevin emerged from his cubicle and walked up. “We were just having a bit of fun, right James?” Being the despicable human being he was, he tried a different tactic. Turning to Ms. Johnson, Kevin said, “He’s the one who asked for a beer, and he drank it all himself even though I said he shouldn’t.”
Mommy’s gaze fell upon me, gauging my reaction. Oh no. I had been in this situation before, when it was the babysitter’s word against mine. And I remembered all too well how that turned out …
But then Mommy said the unexpected. “No,” she declared, turning her cold stare to Kevin. “You’re lying.”
Kevin winced and averted his eyes from the intensity of her stare. “It’s true!” he insisted, looking very uncomfortable.
“Kevin …” Ms. Johnson warned, but he still refused to give in.
Mommy knew how to respond to that. She swiftly closed the distance between her and Kevin and, standing to her full 6’6” in heels, towered over the slightly below-average 5’8” frame of Kevin. As the entire office watched, Mommy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him upwards, a bit onto his toes though not fully into the air, staring into his eyes menacingly.
She didn’t need any more words, as Kevin immediately spilled the beans. “OK, I’m sorry! We forced him to drink it!”
Mommy released his shirt and shoved him backwards, causing him to crash awkwardly against the wall of the nearby cubicle. If I had been thinking straight, I would have mused that if only she had interrogated Grace, the babysitter, in the same way, none of the horrible events of last Thursday would have happened. But, partially because I was drunk, I felt nothing but relief that Mommy now trusted me enough to believe me over that grown man. I was more than a little touched by her fairness and compassion.
The bystanders were shocked at how this high school girl had so easily intimidated Kevin, who had a reputation of being a self-proclaimed ‘tough guy’ as well as a world-class jerk. This incident would undoubtedly stick in people’s minds as she prepared for a possible future moving up the ranks here in the office.
“Well, now that we know who did it, what should we do with him?” Ms. Johnson asked Mommy, apparently deferring to her judgment in this matter.
“I sure wouldn’t mind if you fired him,” Mommy sneered, glaring back at Kevin’s cowering form. “But, I suppose he wouldn’t learn anything that way.”
“Very shrewd. You’ll make quite the executive some day, Kyra,” Ms. Johnson said openly, in front of all the other workers. But, somehow, I felt that Mommy had the charisma and leadership to overcome any resentment they felt from their boss’s favoritism. “I have an idea,” she continued, putting her hand on Mommy’s shoulder and looking at Kevin condescendingly. “I can’t officially have him work under you, but there’s nothing that says I can’t have him do all your work. There’s really no need for you to do it; it’s just busy work anyway.” Mommy smiled wickedly. “Of course, it would be helpful if you could keep track of his progress for me, making sure his work gets done in a timely fashion. And if there’s anything else that needs doing, you could, well, point those things out to him,” Ms. Johnson said, winking at Mommy.
“Sounds good,” Mommy replied. Walking up to Kevin, she said with a wry smile, “Come along, Kev. I have some ‘suggestions’ for what you can do to start out.” Kevin hung his head as he followed her to her cubicle, the threat of termination keeping him from crying out in protest.
I went to follow her as well, but the large hands of Ms. Adams fell on my shoulders and held me in place. Actually, she had to stoop just a bit to reach my shoulders, and even then only part of her fingers were low enough to hold me, but they were enough to stop my advance and get her message across. Not daring to duck away from her and provoke her wrath, I uncomfortably craned my head straight up to look at her, my eyes begging to know why I was being so unfairly retained. “Not so fast, young man,” she told me sternly, her eyes peering haughtily down her nose to return my gaze. Her head was so mind-bogglingly high off the ground; relative to my normal 6’6” frame of reference, Ms. Adams now stood more than 1.5 stories tall – and Mommy was closer to two stories! Holy Christ.
“B-But wh-why?” I stammered.
“Because I said so,” she declared down at me authoritatively. Geez, couldn’t she just tell me why? I guess she thought it was something a little child like me didn’t need to know.
The rest of the office had slowly settled back down at their own desks after the excitement had subsided. After a few minutes of being held back uncomfortably in the middle of the floor, Mommy finally came into view. As she approached us, I noticed Kevin scurrying anxiously behind her towards his own desk, with a stack of papers in his hands – ‘suggested’ work from Mommy, no doubt.
I was happy to see her again, eager to escape the cold clutches of Ms. Adams and be back in the warm arms of my Mommy. Grateful that she believed me and got back at Kevin, as she walked up I told her, “Thank you, Mommy! I’m so glad you—“
“Shut up,” she barked viciously at me, causing me to almost choke on the sudden lump in my throat as I recoiled in shock. Her enormous heels clicked loudly on the ground and stopped a foot in front of me, and I cowered as I raised my gaze from her knees, chest-high on me now, up to her hips which stood higher than my arms could reach, up to her arms folded sternly across her chest, and finally reaching her eyes which were just visible over the swell of her ample bosom.
She continued, “Just because you weren’t responsible for the beer doesn’t change the fact that you decided to leave your playpen.” I averted my eyes from her intense stare. “Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” I reluctantly raised my eyes again. She added, “The playpen is there for a reason: to keep you out of danger. And now look what happened when you disobeyed me. You are just as much to blame as Kevin. And for Christ’s sake, you couldn’t even control your bladder until I got back! What is wrong with you!?”
To see my Mommy’s face, which had shown nothing but the deepest, most heart-warming compassion these last few days, change to a cruel, loveless glare aimed directly at me was more than I could bear. Sure, she had done far worse to me in the past, but back then I wasn’t nearly so dependent on her for her love and support, so eager to please her in any way that my puny self could. I suddenly broke out in a loud sob, wanting nothing more than for Mommy to love me again.
And she was absolutely right. In weeks past I might have argued with her, trying to prove my innocence, but now I almost automatically believed that she was right. Mommy was always right. And who was I to say otherwise?
“I’m sorry, Mommy! I was so naughty!” I exclaimed, loud enough for everyone in the nearby cubicles to hear. With my contrite expression I hoped to convey to Mommy how truly sorry I was.
Skeptical, she asked, “You’re not going to try to say you’re innocent?” I shook my head no. She wasn’t convinced quite yet, though. “You’re not just saying that to get out of your punishment, are you?” She studied my face intently, hunting for any sign of defiance.
But I would never dream of defying her. I shook my head vigorously, saying, “No, Mommy, I-I deserve to be punished for what I did …”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, apparently convinced of my loyalty to her. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re behaving yourself now.” My heart warmed from her praise. “But,” she added sternly, “you still keep refusing to behave when I’m not around, and for that reason I think it’s still time for some big changes. Becky, Amy,” she said, nodding to the two women who had been listening silently behind me, “I think we’re going to have to move our plans up to tonight, instead of this weekend.”
Bewildered by this secret plan of theirs, I craned my neck to Ms. Adams as she nodded and replied, “Yes, of course, Kyra. I’ll cancel my plans for tonight.”
Ms Johnson added, “And I’ll bring my things over. We’ll stay as long as it takes.” The two of them gave Mommy looks of concern and support, as if these plans–whatever they were—would be difficult on her. I would bet anything that these secret plans would actually be more difficult on me, but they weren’t concerned with my feelings anymore. All the same, though, I knew that Mommy would only do something if it was in my best interests … right?
Mommy turned to Ms. Adams and said, “Could I ask a huge favor of you, Amy?”
“Sure, what is it?”
“Jimmy needs to be cleaned up and changed after the big mess he made on himself, and of course he’ll need to be punished as well. I would take him home myself but I have practice in a half hour. If it’s not too much trouble, …”
“Absolutely, Kyra. I would love to punish him for you – that’s what best friends are for.” They exchanged warm smiles. “That is, of course, if I can take the time off work …” They looked to Ms. Johnson.
“Oh, no problem honey. Take all the time you need.”
“Thanks, Becky!” Ms. Adams replied. “I’ll try not to let it get me behind on my work.”
Ms. Johnson laughed out loud as an idea popped into her head. “Maybe Kyra could convince Kevin to take on the extra work?” She gave Mommy a mischievous wink.
“Hehe,” Mommy laughed wickedly. Whispering so that no one but they could hear, she said, “I think, if I told him to, he would run around the office naked just to keep from upsetting me.”
The three of them laughed. “No, don’t do that, because then I would have to fire him,” Ms. Johnson replied jokingly, although there may have been some truth to both points.
Once the adults settled on a time to meet – 7:00 – Mommy went down on one knee and leaned down towards me –down, because even when she was kneeling I was only as tall as her upper abdomen. She reached down and enveloped my shoulder and the upper part of my arm in one hand, telling me with a grave voice, “After tonight, you won’t be able to disappoint Mommy anymore.”
Her words both stung and mystified me, causing me to burst into another round of sobs. She took the thumb and forefinger of her opposite hand – since her whole hand was far too big – and pinched either side of my jaw to lift my head back up to her stern eyes. “But, in the meantime, I want you to show how obedient you can be for Ms. Adams. Depending on your behavior, tonight can go smoothly, or we can make it very, very difficult for you. The choice is yours.”
I nodded obediently, saying, “Yes, Mommy. I’ll be good; I promise.”
Her two-story frame raised up astoundingly fast (to my eyes) as she stood straight and told Ms. Adams, “Do whatever you feel is necessary to punish him. Of course, we both know he won’t really learn anything from it in the long run, but it should at least make him more willing to cooperate tonight.”
“Understood,” my former best friend replied.
“Well,” Ms. Johnson chimed in, “before you two leave we should make sure Kevin agrees to help out.” The three of them headed for his desk, and I had to run to keep up with their normal walking pace. “You take the lead, Kyra” Ms. Johnson added.
As we approached Kevin’s cubicle I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, me being shorter than the desk now, but I could tell he was pounding angrily at his keyboard, probably trying to finish some basic data entry task that was originally assigned to Mommy. “So, Kevin,” Mommy said casually, sitting on the edge of his desk close enough to bump his elbow with her legs, “Amy’s leaving now to take care of Jimmy, and since it was partly your fault I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping out with her work?” She asked sweetly, but Kevin knew it wasn’t a question but a command.
“Um … OK,” he replied icily but respectfully.
“Good!” Mommy replied cheerfully. “Amy can fill you in on the details. So how’s my work comin’?” She turned her body around to inspect his progress. “Hmm …” she said with a frown. “You really should be farther along than this. Are you stupid, or just lazy?”
He was too shocked to respond. “Well?” Mommy said impatiently.
There was no right answer. “Uh … lazy?” He squirmed in his chair in extreme discomfort.
“Oh, good; that’s fixable. There’s no fixing stupid, so I suppose Ms. Johnson would have to fire you on the spot. But you can get over your laziness; all you need is a bit of … motivation.” His gulp was clearly audible even from where I was standing. Mommy looked down and flipped through the stack of papers on his desk. “Of course, I can’t tell you what to do,” she said, laughing ironically. “But if I were you, I would finish these today to make sure you don’t send the wrong impression.” She lifted up a sizeable chunk of the papers and handed it to him. “I know Ms. Johnson doesn’t like lazy employees.”
His eyes went wide as he saw how much was being required of him. “A-All these!?” he stammered. “But this is more than I could do in 3 days!! And what about my work, and Amy’s work too!?”
She replied unconcernedly, “Well, if you weren’t so lazy you could get it done faster, silly! Anyway, you should probably get that other work out of the way first, and finish this up afterwards. And, I suppose, if you really needed more time,” she added disdainfully, as if she didn’t see why it would take more than a few minutes, “there’s nothing stopping you from staying late and staying until you’re done, however long it takes.” She added extra emphasis to that last part, making sure her threat was understood.
Kevin grimaced, his agonized face looking to Ms. Johnson pleadingly. But she and Mommy were of one mind. “You’d better take her advice, Kevin. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a lazy employee.”
Kevin’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “B-B-But that’s n-not fair!” he blabbered. “You can’t just do this to me; I’m an employee and I have my rights …” His voice trailed off as Mommy’s and Ms Johnson’s vicious stares caused his resolve to melt away.
“Ha,” Ms. Johnson snorted. “How would you like me to tell the authorities about you giving alcohol to a 2-year-old?”
A look of extreme concern crossed his face, but he replied, “Well, he’s not … I mean, he’s not REALLY a child, right?” as if he was doubting my age as well.
“Yeah, right; tell that to the authorities,” she scoffed. And she was right: maybe if the police were shown old photos and birth certificates and various other documents proving my 41-year-old identity, then just maybe they might start to suspect the truth. But, of course, if a woman walked in with what to all appearances was a 2-year-old child and accused a man of getting him drunk, and that man’s defense rested on him calling the child a 41-year-old grown man, then, well, you can rest assured that he’ll get not only jail time but also a visit from a psychiatrist.
These truths were not lost on him, and he immediately shut up and lowered his head in defeat. With grins on their faces, the three ladies calmly walked out of the office, leaving him to wallow in despair. Even before they were out of earshot, Ms. Johnson high-fived Mommy and said, “Oh my gosh, that was so much fun!!”
Mommy snickered loudly in reply and Ms. Adams chimed in, “Yeah, you really let him have it! I just wish you two had left some of the fun for me!”
The other two grinned at her in surprise. Mommy said, “Well, well, look how much Miss Goody-Two-Shoes has changed!”
Ms. Adams blushed and replied, “Well, don’t get me wrong; I’m still just as nice as I ever was, except now I’ve also learned how to throw the hammer down when needed. I suppose I have Jimmy to thank for that.” As we walked, she turned her head down to look at me, her eyes completely devoid of emotion. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for this change in her; it was my lies and constant misbehavior that overcame her boundless compassion and forced her to view the world with more cynical, hardened eyes.
These thoughts troubled my conscience as we continued towards Mommy’s and Ms. Adams’s cubicle. In response to Ms. Adams, Ms. Johnson said, “Well, it’s not too late for that. You can have your fun when you tell him what work Kevin needs to do for you this afternoon.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right!” replied Ms. Adams, the fallen angel. As we got back to their cubicle, I was placed for the time being back in my playpen. When Mommy left a short while later, I felt the familiar pangs of longing and unhappiness as she departed from me, despite the somber, brooding mood these recent events had put me in.
What was I to make of Mommy – or should I say, Kyra? I hadn’t always thought of her as Mommy – though I had for a long time called her Mommy aloud, I used to think of her detachedly as Kyra. When did this change? I couldn’t quite remember; it seemed so long ago …
Having seen how meanly Mommy had treated Kevin just now, though, now that I had seen her act this way to someone else and not just me, I began to have doubts about following her with such blind obedience as I had recently grown accustomed to. Perhaps she wasn’t as wonderful as I made her out to be; maybe, just maybe, I had allowed myself to be brainwashed, like some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something. On one hand, I couldn’t forget about those moments lately, happening more and more frequently, where she seemed so loving and wonderful to me, making me think that I really had been bad before but now I should try to be good for her … But was all of this just my brainwashed mind talking? It was all so confusing.
Meanwhile, Ms. Adams, as sternly as ever, told me, “I’m going to pay Kevin a visit. STAY PUT THIS TIME.” She shook her finger at me menacingly, causing me to take a step backwards instinctively.
“Yes, ma’am!” I squeaked, nodding obediently. She was gone for about ten minutes, and when she returned she declared, “God, you stink. We’re leaving now; I can’t stand it for much longer.” I was nauseatingly lifted over the bars and back down to the floor; she didn’t want to carry my urine-stained body to the car. “Come on,” she said forcefully as she headed toward the elevator at a brisk walk – a brisk walk for her, that is. For me, I literally couldn’t sprint fast enough to keep up, drawing several stern reprimands from her.
Once I reached her car, well after her and out of breath, she was about to open the passenger side door but reconsidered. “Well, there’s no way I’m letting you stink up my leather interior.” With haughty strides, she walked to the trunk and opened it, standing to the side and holding it up with her arm. She couldn’t mean …
I hesitated for a second too long. “Hurry up,” she commanded. This was humiliating, but given the circumstances the last thing I wanted was to disobey her. I jumped up and tried to reach my arms over the bumper and grasp the edge of the trunk. I was just tall enough to get my fingertips around it but was in no position to pull myself up from there. Ms. Adams gave an annoyed sigh and brusquely lifted my body by the back of my shirt and dumped me unceremoniously into the trunk, shutting it and leaving me in complete darkness. I couldn’t believe it.