Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode Fifty Five

McKenzie ended her call with a soft laugh, setting her phone down on the desk before turning her full attention to her father. She peeked into the habitat, her gaze warm as she smiled at the sight of him. There he was, moving around the miniature version of home she had meticulously built for him, as if he were some kind of living doll. It was strange, even after all this time, to see her father like this—small, confined, and dependent. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the space she had created for him, a habitat designed for his comfort, for his new life as her Little.

It wasn’t strange for McKenzie to be around Littles. She had been exposed to them for years, had even helped her friends with their own. She knew how to balance the roles of guardian and friend, caretaker and companion. It had come naturally to her—easing into the responsibilities of a guardian, being both an authority figure and an ally. But this was different. This was her father. The man who had raised her, who had once been the strongest person in her life, was now living in a space no bigger than a dollhouse. The power dynamic had flipped, and no matter how often she reminded herself that this was for his own good, the strangeness of it lingered in the back of her mind.

“Sorry, Dad. Sean’s a yapper,” McKenzie said with a light chuckle, leaning closer to the habitat. “I probably should’ve waited to call him. I know we don’t get much time like we used to, but I appreciate you waiting so patiently.” Her voice was soft, affectionate, but there was a hint of something else—a recognition, perhaps, of how much had changed between them.

Greg looked up at her, his face betraying little of what he was feeling. But McKenzie could sense it, the unease, the unspoken tension. It was always there, lingering beneath the surface. He had been patient, yes, but it wasn’t the kind of patience he’d shown her when she was younger. It was a patience born of necessity, of knowing that he had no control over the situation.

“I’ll eventually make you a little kitchen,” McKenzie continued, her voice brightening as if the idea would cheer him up. “A tiny fridge to go with the stove. I know you mostly eat pellets, but I’ll be able to give you people food every now and then.”

She paused, the words hanging in the air, and in that moment, she realized how callous they sounded. People food. The phrase echoed in her mind, and a pang of guilt crept in. She knew that the distinction was important—Littles couldn’t just eat what they used to. Their bodies had changed, their metabolism slowed, and a proper diet of pellets was necessary to keep them healthy. But saying it out loud made it feel wrong. People food wasn’t for him anymore. His meals had to be curated, measured, planned—designed to keep his body functioning the way a Little’s should.

McKenzie shifted uncomfortably, trying to shake off the awkwardness of the moment. She hadn’t meant to sound insensitive. She was just trying to help, to make things better for him. But even she knew there was no escaping the harsh reality of it. Littles needed pellets. It was what kept them from malnourishment, what their bodies required. No matter how much she wanted to give him more, to make him feel normal again, it wasn’t possible.

Greg remained quiet, but McKenzie could feel his silence weighing on her. He didn’t need to say anything. She knew how he must feel, listening to his own daughter tell him that people food was now beyond him, that his diet had to be managed, that he was no longer capable of eating the way he used to. It must have been humiliating for him, a reminder that his autonomy had been stripped away, that even something as simple as a meal was no longer within his control.

She thought back to the countless times they had eaten together as a family, Greg sitting at the head of the table, full of life and energy, sharing stories from work or asking about their day. And now, here he was, confined to a habitat, relying on her for sustenance, for freedom, for everything.

McKenzie forced a smile, hoping to lighten the mood, but she could feel the tension between them. “You know,” she continued, her tone gentle, “pellets are better for you anyway. They have all the nutrients you need. It’s why Littles in the wild don’t last long—even if they can avoid predators, they can’t get the right food. They need pellets to stay healthy.”

The explanation while true felt hollow, even to her. She was trying to rationalize it, to make it sound like this was all for the best. But she knew, deep down, that this wasn’t about health. This was about control. Littles needed to be managed, their diets restricted, their lives overseen by guardians. And that included her father.

Greg’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a brief moment, McKenzie saw the flicker of the man he used to be—the man who had guided her, who had been her protector. But that flicker faded just as quickly, replaced by the quiet resignation that had settled into him over the past few days.

McKenzie swallowed hard, trying to shake off the knot of guilt tightening in her chest. She hadn’t meant for things to turn out this way. She had always loved her father, had always looked up to him. But now, she was his guardian, and she had to balance that love with the responsibility of keeping him healthy, of ensuring that he lived within the rules that Littles were supposed to follow. It was what her mother had taught her, what her mother had believed in. And McKenzie couldn’t help but feel a sense of duty to uphold those beliefs to some degree. She didn’t believe in all of them. She fought against the ones she felt were to harsh, to overbearing. But in other cases, her mom wasn’t wrong.

“I’ll take good care of you, Dad,” McKenzie said softly, as if trying to reassure both him and herself. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

But the words felt empty, and as she stepped back from the habitat, the reality of what she was saying settled over her. Everything you need had a new meaning now. It wasn’t about freedom or independence—it was about survival, about control, about managing his life in the way a guardian manages a Little. And no matter how much she tried to soften the blow, she knew it would always feel wrong.

Greg stayed quiet, his expression unreadable, but McKenzie could sense the heaviness in the air between them. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. She knew it, and so did he.

McKenzie took a deep breath, her eyes softening as she looked at her father in the habitat. The words she had said earlier hung in the air, and she could feel the weight of them now. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, her voice quieter, more measured. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. If it hurt you, I’m really sorry. I know you’re my dad, but… you’re also a Little now. That makes it harder for me than it would be otherwise. But we’re still a family, and I want this to work.”

Greg watched her, the sting of her earlier words still fresh, but there was a softness in her tone now that soothed some of the hurt. McKenzie paused, as if trying to find the right words, her eyes flicking between him and the space around them. This was as new for her as it was for him, and he could sense her uncertainty—how she was still learning to navigate the delicate balance between being his daughter and being his guardian.

“When I’m home,” she continued, “I’ll fetch you from Madison as much as I can. I know she can be… a bit overbearing at times.” McKenzie smiled faintly, her lips tugging upward as she added, “She’s just so much like Mom, you know? In the good ways and the bad. She’s such a pit bull. When she thinks something’s right, there’s no denying her. No changing her mind.”

Greg couldn’t help but nod slightly. That was true. Madison had inherited her mother’s stubbornness, that unwavering confidence in her beliefs. He had seen it time and time again, from her childhood to now, and McKenzie was right—once Madison had her mind set on something, nothing could move her. It was frustrating at times, but it also meant she fought fiercely for what she believed in. It was something Greg had always admired in her.

“But that also means she fights for you harder than anyone else,” McKenzie said softly. “It’s why, with Mom… it’s been nice to have her in my corner. Along with you.” She glanced down at her father, her voice trembling ever so slightly as she spoke. “You two have been my support system. You’ve made me believe I really can do this.”

Greg felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much McKenzie had relied on him, even now, even in this new reality where their roles had been so drastically reversed. He could hear the vulnerability in her voice, the doubt she tried to keep hidden, and it made his heart ache. She had always been strong—so responsible, so dependable—but there was still that part of her that needed reassurance, that needed to know she wasn’t alone in this.

“McKenzie,” Greg began, his voice quiet but steady, “of course you can do this, pumpkin. No one is better equipped than you. You’re so responsible for your age. You always have been.” He paused, looking up at her with all the love and pride he could muster. “Sometimes… sometimes it felt like you were taking care of me more than I was taking care of you.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, the truth of them settling deep in his chest. It had always been there, in the back of his mind—that quiet acknowledgment that McKenzie had grown up faster than he’d ever intended. She had always been the one to take on extra responsibilities, the one who seemed to shoulder the weight of the family without complaint. And now, in the aftermath of Smallara, that dynamic had become official. She wasn’t just taking care of him in small, subtle ways anymore. She was his guardian.

“I—I don’t blame you,” Greg continued, his voice catching slightly as the emotion swelled in his chest. “I know you’re not trying to hurt me. I can feel the love behind everything you’re doing. It’s just… difficult to wrap my head around. I’m still trying to accept that I’m a Little.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Greg didn’t try to hide the sadness in his voice. He didn’t need to. McKenzie knew. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in the way his voice wavered. Being a Little wasn’t something he could just accept overnight. It was something that had been forced upon him, something that turned his entire world upside down. And yet, as much as he struggled with it, he couldn’t deny the love that radiated from McKenzie, the way she was doing everything she could to take care of him, to make sure he was safe.

McKenzie reached down, her fingers brushing against the top of the habitat gently, as if she wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure how. “I know it’s hard, Dad,” she whispered, her voice tight with emotion. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But… we’ll figure it out together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

Greg nodded, his chest tightening as he blinked back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He wanted to believe her, to believe that they would figure this out, that somehow this new life would start to feel normal. But deep down, he knew it would never be the same. He would never be the father he once was. That part of his life was gone.

But as McKenzie looked at him with those soft, reassuring eyes, Greg couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they would find a way through this. Together.

Greg’s thoughts lingered on McKenzie’s words, the promise of fetching him from Madison whenever she was home. The idea of spending more time with McKenzie should have filled him with comfort, but it came with a cost—leaving Cindy alone with Madison. He knew the strain between Cindy and McKenzie ran deep, but he couldn’t stand the idea of his wife being further isolated. He needed to help bridge that gap, to mend what was left of their fractured family. It was the least he could do.

“McKenzie,” Greg began, his voice careful, almost pleading, “I’m loving this. I really am. Spending time with you like this, seeing what you’ve made for me… it’s something else. But do you think maybe we could share some of this with your mother? I know she’s not your favorite person right now, but she really is sorry. She’s changed. She regrets—”

McKenzie’s expression hardened, her usual warmth giving way to something colder, more resolute. Greg’s heart sank. He knew this conversation would be difficult, but he had hoped that McKenzie’s bond with her mother, once so strong, could still be salvaged. They had never been this distant before.

“Dad, we’ve already talked about this,” McKenzie said firmly, her voice unwavering. “I’m just going to say it outright. I’m fine with how things are. She’s my mom, and I’ll always love her. But like she used to say, a Little can’t have two masters. Mom deserves to have Madison as her guardian. I’m sorry, but we both know this.”

Greg’s stomach twisted as McKenzie continued, her conviction cutting through the air like a blade.

“Madison will treat her exactly how Mom believes a Little should be treated. She can live in the world and the life she fought for. She can have the rights she championed for Littles.” McKenzie’s voice was serious, almost matter-of-fact, but there was a flicker of something deeper—bitterness, perhaps. “I spent my whole life deferring to her, keeping the peace, always being the bigger person because she couldn’t handle that I didn’t agree with everything she believed. She didn’t want a daughter with her own thoughts. She wanted someone who mirrored her.”

Greg felt the weight of McKenzie’s words settle in his chest, each one pulling him further into the reality of the situation. He could sense the years of frustration and hurt that had built up inside her, the resentment that had only grown stronger since Cindy’s fall from power. His daughter had always been the quieter one, the more considerate one, but that had come at a price. She had bent herself to Cindy’s will, always trying to keep the peace, and now she was done bending.

“Kenz, I get it. I do. It’s just—” Greg started, his words faltering as he searched for something that might soften the edges of McKenzie’s resolve.

But she cut him off, her tone unyielding.

“Dad, I know Mom’s your wife, and you feel obligated to her. I understand. That’s why it meant so much to me when you picked me over her. It was the first time I felt like I wasn’t second to her in your eyes.” McKenzie’s voice softened, but there was still a sharpness to her words. “You always put her first. Mads and I saw that, even if you didn’t mean to. But you always made sure we felt special and loved. You never made us feel like second place, even though we were.”

Greg’s heart clenched at the truth in her words. He had never intended to make his daughters feel that way, but McKenzie’s insight hit harder than he expected. He had spent so much of his life trying to balance his marriage and his role as a father, always making sure his family felt whole. But in that delicate balancing act, maybe he had put Cindy first more often than he realized.

“So I know how hard it was for you to pick me over her,” McKenzie continued, her eyes locking with his. “And I won’t let your faith in me go to waste. But I’m done trying with Mom. She’s with her favorite daughter, and if she has regrets now, I don’t believe her. I don’t believe she can preach for years about how Littles should live and be treated, and then suddenly have an epiphany that Littles are equals after a few days.”

Greg opened his mouth to respond, to defend Cindy, to plead for understanding, but McKenzie’s next words stopped him cold.

“She’s a hypocrite, Dad. That’s what she is. She can learn a lot from you. At least you understand that you’re a Little, even if you don’t like it. You accept it, and that’s why we can move forward.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Greg could feel the tension in the air, thick and unyielding. He wanted to protest, to tell McKenzie that Cindy had changed, that she was sorry, but he couldn’t find the words. How could he argue with the truth McKenzie had lived for so long? He knew how much Cindy’s strict beliefs about Littles had shaped their lives, how her rigidity had affected their daughters. He couldn’t ignore that, no matter how much he wanted to.

McKenzie bent down, reaching into the habitat and lifting Greg into her arms. The motion was gentle, but it carried with it a finality that Greg couldn’t shake. As she cradled him, pulling him into a hug, he could feel the warmth of her affection, but it was tinged with a sadness that he couldn’t ignore.

“I love you, Dad,” McKenzie whispered, her voice soft again as she held him close. Her fingers gently stroked his back, a gesture of both comfort and control. “And I know this is hard for you. But you made the right choice. You picked me, and I won’t let you down. You’ll see.”

Greg’s heart ached as he leaned into the embrace, feeling both grateful and helpless. He loved his daughter more than anything, but the knowledge that he had contributed to the divide between her and Cindy weighed heavily on him. He had picked a side—he had chosen McKenzie, and in doing so, he had distanced himself from the woman he had built a life with. Now, all he could do was hold on to the love his daughter was offering him and hope that, somehow, things would heal with time.

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