Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode: Twenty Three

Madison walked over to the counter where she had set her parents down, placing her hand flatly on the surface, palm up. Greg and Cindy exchanged a quick glance, both remembering what she had told them earlier in the day,a technique she had learned from some online streamer. The thought unsettled them, the idea of their youngest daughter picking up “training” methods from people on the internet. Especially someone named Sarandipity, a name they had never heard of before. The notion of being trained like pets, following instructions sourced from a random streamer, made their stomachs churn.

But neither of them dared to cause a scene, not now. There was already enough tension, and they had learned quickly that resistance only made things worse. So, without a word, they quietly walked onto Madison’s hand, their movements slow and careful, as if they were trying to preserve the last shreds of dignity they had left.

Madison didn’t seem to notice their internal conflict, or if she did, she ignored it. With ease, she lifted them off the counter and carried them over to the kitchen table, the soft thud of her steps the only sound in the room. Her control was absolute, and Greg and Cindy, despite their discomfort, knew they had no choice but to comply.

Both parents stepped off of Madison’s and onto the much colder table. They shivered briefly as they looked over at the massive empty plate of Madison before looking over at McKenzie, who was looking at something on her phone, seemingly oblivious to them. There had long been a house rule of no phones at the table. However Mckenzie finally setting her phone down on the table seemed to establish a new order as far as household rules. Greg and Cindy looked at each other but both thought better of saying anything as Madison sat down at the table.

“Here, eat up, Littles. You have to stay strong for me,” Madison said as she set down two tiny bowls in front of her parents. The bowls contained Little pellets, firm and flavorless, followed by shallow dishes of water. The gesture was meant to be nurturing, but it felt more like an afterthought, a hollow semblance of care.

“You’re welcome,” Madison added, her tone laced with condescension. The words jolted Greg and Cindy out of their dazed state, like a sharp slap in the face. A wave of quiet humiliation washed over them as they stood on their own kitchen table, reduced to something far less than human. They glanced at each other, unspoken shock reflecting in their eyes. Their daughters now towered above them, engrossed in casual conversation, as if this were just another dinner. But to Greg and Cindy, it was anything but.

The aroma of the stir fry—garlicky, rich, comforting, filled the room, teasing their senses. It had been so long since they’d eaten anything substantial. The scent triggered a pang of hunger so sharp it nearly made Greg stagger. The thought of eating the dry pellets in front of them only made it worse. The memory of meals shared around this very table, before their lives had shrunk down to this nightmarish reality, clashed painfully with the scene unfolding now.

Madison, oblivious to their silent despair, reached for the large serving spoon and scooped a generous portion of fried rice. As she moved it toward her plate, a clump fell, tumbling onto the table near her. To her, it was a stray mess. To Greg and Cindy, it was a mountain—an abundance of real food, right there in front of them, just out of reach.

Without thinking, they both took a step toward it, their hunger overriding their sense of pride. The mound of rice was massive, like an entire meal laid out before them. It could sustain them, comfort them, if only they could have it.

But as they approached, they hesitated. Above them, their daughters laughed, chatting casually about their day as if nothing had changed. Madison and McKenzie, seated at the table, immersed in a world Greg and Cindy were no longer part of. They weren’t just Littles now, they were voiceless, invisible, like shadows in the lives of their own children.

The irony wasn’t lost on Cindy. This was the meal she had once taught her daughters to cook, passing on family recipes in this very kitchen. Now, they sat high above her, savoring the stir fry she had passed down to them, while she and Greg were left with bowls of pellets and water like obedient pets.

Her stomach growled, a reminder of how real her hunger was. But her pride, what little was left, held her back. Was this what it had come to? Scavenging for fallen scraps from her own table? The thought twisted her insides with a mixture of shame and disbelief.

As Greg and Cindy eyed the mound of fried rice that had fallen near Madison’s plate, the tantalizing smell overwhelming their senses, they both took cautious steps forward. The aroma of the meal brought back memories of family dinners around this very table, where they were the ones serving and providing for their daughters. Now, it was an entirely different world, one where even a scrap of food felt like a luxury.

Madison, seemingly oblivious to their movement, continued her conversation with McKenzie. “So, did Danielle say anything about the next steps for their paperwork?” Madison asked, her tone casual as she scooped another spoonful of stir fry onto her plate.

“Not much,” McKenzie replied, taking a sip of her water. “She just reminded me that it takes time to adjust, and we need to be patient with them. She even mentioned some Littles take months to fully adapt to their new lives.”

Greg’s stomach growled as he edged closer to the fried rice, the temptation overwhelming. He knew Madison had set down the pellets for them, but he couldn’t help himself. Real food, real nourishment, was within arm’s reach. He glanced at Cindy, who shared the same hunger in her eyes, her body hesitating as she weighed the risks of disobeying Madison’s unspoken rules.

Suddenly, Madison’s voice cut through the air. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at her parents, noticing their movements toward the clump of rice.

Greg froze mid-step, his heart racing. He hadn’t even realized she had been watching them.

“Little pellets are right there,” Madison said, her voice taking on that familiar tone of condescension. “I can’t have you two eating people food, can I? You both know better than that.” She didn’t raise her voice, but the firmness in her tone left no room for argument.

Cindy felt her face flush with embarrassment as she took a small step back, the reality of their situation sinking deeper with every word Madison spoke. They weren’t people in their daughter’s eyes anymore, they were Littles, confined to the rules and expectations Madison set for them.

“Go on, back to your bowls,” Madison continued, giving a slight nod of approval as she returned her focus to McKenzie, the incident already forgotten in her mind.

Greg and Cindy walked slowly toward the small bowls Madison had set down for them, placed near her plate just as she had told them earlier upstairs. They could feel her eyes on them, a silent reminder that this was where they belonged now, at her feet, at her mercy. They cast a quick glance at McKenzie, a fleeting hope that maybe she would call them over, allow them to sit somewhere, anywhere, else. But Madison’s words echoed in their minds: Stay by me unless McKenzie says otherwise.

This was their place, at Madison’s side, unless they were summoned. The thought sat heavy in their chests as they knelt down in front of the bowls of food and water, their bodies betraying their hunger. Their stomachs growled in painful protest. Days of resisting the pellets had left them both weakened, their defiance turning into something more desperate. Greg could feel the hunger gnawing at him, relentless and sharp. He couldn’t take it anymore.

With a shaking hand, he reached for the bowl, intending to lift it and finally get some relief. But before the bowl even left the table, Madison’s voice cut through the air.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she chided, wagging her finger as she chewed, her words tinged with casual authority. “Don’t make a mess. Leave the bowls on the table and eat properly.” She took another bite of her meal, already turning her attention back to McKenzie, as though scolding them were nothing more than a minor distraction.

Greg froze, unsure at first of what she meant, but Cindy knew. The memory hit her like a punch to the gut. She had said those very words so many times, countless times, in front of Madison when friends had brought their Littles over. The humiliation that crept into her heart now felt so much sharper because of it.

Without a word, Cindy bent down, bringing her face toward the bowl of pellets. Her body screamed for food, her hunger too powerful to resist any longer. She swallowed the first mouthful, the taste of chicken flavoring on her tongue, and her mind screamed for her to stop. Every fiber of her being wanted to fight against this degrading act. She couldn’t let her children see her like this, not like this.

But her body betrayed her.

The loud growling of her stomach drowned out her shame, the primal hunger consuming every thought of dignity she had left. The dryness in her mouth intensified with each bite, and she glanced briefly at the bowl of water nearby. For a moment, she hesitated, but it didn’t last long. Her body moved without her consent, and soon she was over the water bowl, lapping up the liquid like an animal. Her mind recoiled, embarrassment washing over her like a cold wave. She wanted to stop, wanted to hide, but her body wouldn’t listen. Her thirst was overwhelming, each mouthful bringing momentary relief, but at the cost of her pride.

She continued drinking until the water caught in her throat, and she lifted her head, coughing and sputtering. The sound was small, but to Cindy, it was deafening, a reminder of how far she had fallen.

Greg watched Cindy, his heart sinking as he saw her break under the weight of hunger and thirst. He knew it was only a matter of time before he too succumbed. His pride kept him frozen for a few more seconds, his mind racing through every possible way to escape this humiliation, but the pain in his stomach gnawed at him. It wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, a deep-seated ache that he couldn’t shake. The last remnants of the life they once knew seemed to slip further away with each moment that passed.

Madison, barely glancing at her parents, continued chatting with McKenzie, her voice a background hum in their world now. “Anyway, I think it’ll be fine for the weekend. I just have to make sure the Littles don’t embarrass me in front of Evan,” Madison said, as if her parents weren’t just feet away from her, reduced to such a pitiful state.

Greg couldn’t take it anymore. He lowered himself to the bowl of pellets, his face hovering just above it, the smell was similar to dry dog food laced with the scent of chicken. He had always hated the smell of the Littles’ food when Cindy had brought it into their home for visitors, but now it was all he had. The first bite was like swallowing sand. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly, trying to keep from gagging. He could hear Madison and McKenzie laughing, the sound of their casual conversation reminding him just how far removed they were from the lives of their children now.

“You’re doing great, Dad,” Madison’s voice cut through, mocking in its sweetness. “I’m so proud of you for eating your food. See? This isn’t so bad. Just remember, I’m here to take care of you.”

Greg felt a surge of anger, but it was quickly swallowed by the futility of his situation. This was their new reality, at Madison’s mercy, reduced to nothing more than Littles. He wanted to scream, to demand his life back, but he knew it wouldn’t matter. They were powerless now, their every move dictated by their own daughter. He cast a glance at Cindy, who avoided his gaze, her face flushed with humiliation.

Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to say. The silence between them said everything: they were no longer in control. And no matter how hard they tried to resist, their bodies, their minds, and even their dignity would continue to betray them.

“Slow down, Mom. No one’s going to take your food,” Madison said, her voice soft but condescending. She reached down, giving Cindy a few gentle strokes along her back, the same way one might soothe a pet.

“That’s a very good girl, Mom,” Madison added, her tone shifting to something affectionate, almost loving, as if rewarding the behavior she had been hoping for. Each word, meant as praise, cut deeper into Cindy’s pride. The gentle pats felt more like chains, binding her to this new role, this new reality, as Madison’s Little.

Greg stole glances at Cindy as he eat, seeing the quiet defeat in her eyes as she accepted the strokes, her body still trembling from the mix of hunger and shame. The weight of it all was suffocating. This wasn’t a simple gesture of love; it was control masked in affection, a kind of validation that twisted the very idea of what love once meant between a parent and child. Worst of all this wasn’t something she taught Madison. Not directly, Madison had taken her teachings and improved them. She masked her control with love and affection.

Related Images: