Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode Thirty Nine

“That’s probably enough on that topic for today,” Trina said, her voice calm and authoritative, as though she were a teacher concluding a lesson. “I think you both have a good understanding of what is expected and how the internal workings of our world function on the most basic level. We’ll probably need to spend the next few weeks reinforcing what we talked about today until it becomes the very fabric of your lives.”

Greg felt the words hit him like a punch to the gut. He wanted to scream, to shout in protest, but his throat felt tight. The idea of this new reality enveloping him, of this “Little world” becoming the foundation of his existence, was unbearable. He didn’t want to live as a Little. He wanted to go back to the real world, a world where he and Cindy were equals, where they were parents, and where things made sense. But here he was, in this upside-down nightmare, looking up at the Little of one of his daughter’s best friends, being educated like a child about how life worked.

Cindy remained silent, her posture stiff as she sat in the prescribed “little sit” position. Greg could see the same tension in her that he felt. They were both struggling to grasp this absurd reality, trying to keep their emotions in check, knowing that any outburst would only lead to more trouble.

Trina’s calm, almost condescending tone continued, oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside Greg. “Littles of the same tier as you can be greeted casually. So, Greg, you could greet another male service Little as you always have, informally, without much formality. But, Cindy, if you encounter a female service Little, you’ll need to show a heightened level of respect. You’d perform a more professional greeting.”

Greg’s stomach twisted as Trina spoke, her words hammering home the harsh reality of their new roles. This wasn’t just a temporary adjustment; it was an entire system they were expected to learn, internalize, and live by. And they weren’t just part of this system, they were at the bottom of it.

Trina turned toward Cindy, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “If you remember back to when you were humans,” she continued, her voice taking on a more instructive tone, “think of it like living in the 1800s, only with the roles of men and women reversed. That kind of analogy helped put things into perspective for me when I was first learning.”

Greg could feel his blood boiling beneath the surface. The 1800s? Was she serious? He glanced over at Cindy, her face pale as she absorbed the comparison. Trina spoke about it so casually, as though this twisted version of society was perfectly logical, just a simple role reversal, nothing more.

Trina’s words hung in the air like a cruel joke, but she didn’t seem to notice, or care, how much they stung. “It’s not an exact one-for-one comparison, of course,” she added with a nonchalant shrug, “but the spirit and the logic are the same. Female Littles are elevated in society because of their strength and capabilities, while male Littles are there to assist, to support. That’s the balance.”

Greg’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit here and listen to this. Every fiber of his being was screaming to stand up, to reject this insane reality. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not with Trina watching them so closely, not with Madison and Brooklyn’s words still echoing in his mind.

The world outside the habitat, Madison’s bedroom, the place that used to feel so small and insignificant, now loomed large and out of reach. Greg and Cindy were confined to this pink carpeted cage, subject to rules they hadn’t made, stripped of the control they had once taken for granted.

Cindy, sensing Greg’s rising frustration, placed a hand on his arm. It was a small, subtle gesture, but it spoke volumes. They had to endure this, for now. They had to play along, to survive. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out. But it wouldn’t come by fighting head-on, not yet.

Trina’s eyes swept over them, her expression unreadable, before she gave a small nod of approval. “I can tell this is a lot to take in,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “But the sooner you embrace it, the easier it will be. The sooner you accept your place as service Littles, the sooner you can find purpose and contentment in your new roles. It may not be what you imagined, but it’s what you have now.”

Greg’s chest tightened, the weight of Trina’s words settling heavily on his shoulders. He couldn’t stand the thought of being trapped in this existence, of having his life defined by rules and hierarchies that placed him beneath everyone he had once known. But as he looked at Cindy, her face calm yet determined, he knew she understood what he was struggling to accept. They didn’t have a choice.

For now, they were Littles. And no amount of resistance or frustration would change that.

“We make up a community, as you’ve probably figured out,” Trina continued, her tone calm but commanding, as if lecturing them on an established, inarguable truth. “You two, myself, Evan’s Little, we’re all part of the same community because our guardians are friends. They bring us together. It’s imperative you understand that my owner, Ms. Brooklyn, along with Ms. Krysi, Ms. Evan, and Ms. Madison, have complete authority over their Littles. That authority extends interchangeably to all of us. In your case, Ms. Madison might supersede something, as she is your direct guardian, but if any of them tells you to do anything, it’s to be treated as if it’s coming from your guardian. No questions. It’s never your place to raise such a question unless you are explicitly told otherwise.”

Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, the tension between them palpable as they listened to Trina outline the rules of their new world. Greg’s jaw tightened, the words sinking in with a growing sense of disbelief. Trina’s voice was so calm, so certain, as if this system of total obedience and unquestioning submission was natural, normal.

“There are other people, other friends of your guardians, who you will need to show respect,” Trina added. “They are people, and you are not. So, while you must listen to them, you may have some autonomy if something doesn’t seem right. However, it’s best to use that ability sparingly. Overstep your boundaries, and it can lead to corrective action.”

Greg couldn’t hold back any longer. The absurdity of what Trina was saying, the audacity of it all, made his blood boil. “Wait a damn minute!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended but not loud enough to activate the collar luckily. “We’re supposed to obediently listen to Evan and Brooklyn too? They’re not even our guardians! This is ridiculous!”

His fists clenched as he spoke, the anger rising in his chest. He wanted to stand up, to tower over Trina and reclaim some semblance of authority, but as she stepped in front of him, her gaze bearing down on him, Greg hesitated. Even in his frustration, he knew the imbalance of power was too great. Trina, trained, educated, and taller than both Greg and Cindy, stood before them like a symbol of the new hierarchy they were trapped in.

“And what about our other daughter, McKenzie?” Greg added, his voice more restrained but still tinged with defiance. “She’s our daughter, our family. How can you act like we don’t have any say with her?”

Trina’s eyes narrowed slightly, her expression firm. “Yes, that is exactly how it works,” she replied, her voice never wavering. “I was told the structure of your household. You will speak to McKenzie through Ms. Madison, Ms. Evan, Ms. Krysi, or Ms. Brooklyn. If you have complaints or concerns, you bring them up to one of them, and it will be passed on to Ms. McKenzie through the proper channels. You will be told whatever you need to know regarding the result of your request.”

Greg’s stomach twisted as Trina continued, her words hitting him like a hammer. The idea that he would need to go through Madison, Madison of all people, to reach his eldest daughter was almost too much to bear. McKenzie, the one person he thought could still see him as more than a Little, more than a powerless subject in this new world, was now so far out of reach. Even his connection to her was mediated through a chain of authority that placed him firmly at the bottom.

Trina’s voice remained steady, almost gentle, but it only made her words more cutting. “If Ms. McKenzie seeks you out, you will be humbled, honored, and appreciative of whatever time she offers you. You will refrain from bringing up any direct requests, problems, or criticisms to her. Your place is to bring them up through your direct authorities. As Littles, your role is not to question. It’s to follow the rules laid out by Ms. Madison, who should never be questioned by the likes of mere Littles.”

Greg’s breath caught in his throat. The very idea that he, a grown man, a father, could be reduced to such a level of subservience to his teenage daughter was incomprehensible. His mind raced, searching for something, anything, that could make this all make sense. But there was nothing. No logic, no fairness, just a cruel and twisted inversion of the life he once knew.

Beside him, Cindy’s face was pale, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had pushed for so many of these laws, for the rigid hierarchy that now trapped them, and the irony was almost unbearable. Greg could see the realization dawning on her face, the weight of her own words and actions now coming back to haunt her. But there was no time for regret, no space for second thoughts. They were stuck here, bound by the very system she had helped create.

Greg’s anger simmered beneath the surface, but he knew there was no point in fighting now. Not here. Not with Trina watching, her eyes flicking between them like a teacher evaluating her students. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing for another way, any way, to find leverage, to regain some small measure of control. But for now, all he could do was nod, swallowing his pride and playing along. It was the only way to survive.

Cindy, sensing Greg’s silent concession, followed suit. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded as well, though the fire in her eyes betrayed her own internal battle. They were out of options, at least for now. They would have to endure this, bide their time, and hope that McKenzie, somehow, might still be their lifeline.

“That pretty much covers our first day,” Trina announced, her voice carrying an air of finality as she stood before Greg and Cindy, who sat in their designated positions on the pink carpet of the habitat. “As the leader of this community and your instructor, feel free to come to me with any questions you have. I’m here to make your adjustment as easy as possible. We all work together to support Ms. Evan, Ms. Brooklyn, Ms. Madison, and Ms. Krysi. There will be times when you may be traded about based on need. This is not a reassignment of your direct guardian, just a temporary reallocation of the little resources that our community has.”

Greg’s eyes flickered with disbelief, his mind struggling to process what Trina was saying. “Temporary reallocation” made him and Cindy sound like objects, mere resources to be moved around as needed. The thought of being passed from one teen to another like a tool sent a chill down his spine. He glanced at Cindy, whose face was pale but impassive, trying to absorb the full weight of what was being said.

“This happens commonly around Ms. Brooklyn and Ms. Madison’s dance competitions or Ms. Krysi’s softball games or Ms. Evan’s track meets,” Trina continued. “But there are other events and times when this is necessary as well. You two, being added to our community as the newest service littles, are a great boon to us all.”

Greg’s stomach tightened at the word boon. He was supposed to be something of value to them now, not as a father, but as a little, an expendable asset.

Trina’s voice took on a more formal tone as she began instructing them on their behavior. “I also noticed you seem to address our guardians as if you are still human. While they are understanding of your situation, that needs to stop. As you are untrained service littles, you should refer to Ms. Brooklyn as Ms. Reynolds. Untrained littles shouldn’t be using a guardian’s human name, something you, Cindy, taught to Brooklyn.”

Cindy flinched as Trina’s words pierced her. She had indeed been the one to lecture guardians on maintaining formal titles for their littles, emphasizing respect and distance. Now that lesson was being thrown back in her face.

“The usage of a guardian’s name is an honor,” Trina continued, her tone calm but firm, “and as a little moves up in rank and status within little society, they can be granted the privilege to use a guardian’s first name along with an honorific. You should refer to Ms. Evan as Ms. Kingsley, and Ms. Krysi as Ms. Snyder. As for Ms. Madison, you will now address her as Ms. Wessen. When it comes to McKenzie, she will be referred to as Mistress Wessen due to her elevated status as both a high-ranking guardian and head of the household.”

Greg could feel his hands trembling. Addressing his youngest daughter as “Ms. Wessen” was humiliating enough, but calling McKenzie Mistress Wessen felt like a slap in the face. She was his daughter, his eldest daughter. Yet here he was, reduced to groveling in this new, perverse hierarchy.

“Ms. Madison will be updating your collars accordingly to train you on proper name usage,” Trina added, as though it were a mundane detail. “The microphones in your collars will listen for improper names like Evan, Madison, McKenzie, Krysi, and Brooklyn and restrict you accordingly. This is all part of your education. In time, those collars will no longer be needed, and you can be upgraded to full little collars, meant for proper service littles. The basic collars you have now are incapable of recording just monitoring.”

Greg and Cindy exchanged a glance, the weight of the collars around their necks suddenly heavier than before. They had become not just physical restraints but symbolic ones, reminders of how far they had fallen and how little control they now had over their lives.

“Ms. Madison is relying on me to properly educate you,” Trina said, sitting back down on the sofa, her posture calm and assured. “My grades and reports will determine how quickly you can be moved out of training collars and into standard little collars meant for proper service littles.”

She crossed her legs casually, the act reinforcing her position of authority. “Since I’m your instructor, fully trained and certified by Generitech, and the leader of your community, you will refer to me as Ms. Trina from now on.” Trina said looking at Cindy with a smirk.

Greg clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to say something, anything, to challenge her. But what would be the point? He and Cindy had been boxed into this role, and any defiance would only make things worse.

Trina smiled softly, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe in a few months or so of hard work and dedication, you could be allowed to accompany Ms. Madison to school or on errands. That’s something service littles like yourselves should aspire to. It can take in some cases years for some littles to achieve that level of trust. Being taken outside the habitat is an honor in itself, but being brought further, beyond the guardian’s home? That is a privilege you will need to earn through obedience, trust and training.”

Greg swallowed hard, his throat tight with frustration. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was supposed to aspire to be taken on errands? Like a dog going for a walk?

“For now,” Trina continued, “it may be a few months before you can leave the habitat regularly . At that time, special jewelry will be worn by your guardians that will keep you from moving more than two feet away from them. It creates an invisible little barrier and keeps bugs and other dangers out. If you move outside the barrier, the guardian is notified instantly, and a sound is emitted to bring you back.”

The casualness with which Trina described their future only deepened the pit in Greg’s stomach. He was no longer a father or husband, he was property, to be managed, controlled, and supervised.

“But we can discuss that further when the time comes,” Trina said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “For now, your concern should be Ms. Madison and Ms. Madison alone. You are her littles, and that is all that matters.”

Trina’s smile widened as she looked down at Greg and Cindy, her tone sweet but patronizing. “This is your new reality. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for everyone.”

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