Madison’s World Redux: Season Two: Episode Fifty Six.

Cindy felt Madison’s grip tighten around her as her daughter carried her upstairs, the pressure unceremonious and indifferent. The heavy thuds of Madison’s footsteps echoed loudly down the hall, reverberating through the house with each step. No longer was there anyone to remind her to walk quieter, to lift her feet instead of dragging them. The days of those small corrections, of playing the role of the guiding mother, were long gone for Cindy. She had learned better by now. It wasn’t her place anymore.

As they passed McKenzie’s room, Cindy caught a brief glimpse of her eldest daughter with Greg, nestled affectionately in McKenzie’s hand. McKenzie was lovingly doting on him, her smile warm, her touch gentle. The sight stood in stark contrast to how Cindy had spent her evening, enslaved to her daughter’s whims, painstakingly trying to paint Madison’s toenails as best as her Little body could manage. The weight of her humiliation settled in deeper, as she remembered crouching behind Madison’s ankle while McKenzie had come downstairs to talk. She had been so meek, so reduced in that moment, watching helplessly as Madison trained her to be her Little, chipping away at any shred of dignity she had left.

Madison turned into the bathroom, now claimed as her own personal space. Cindy took in the mess as they approached the sink. Makeup, hair products, perfume bottles, and other remnants of Madison’s daily routine littered the counter, a chaotic explosion of items strewn carelessly. The sink itself was a disaster—streaks of toothpaste clung to the edges, a sticky residue from various beauty products was smeared across the surface, and strands of hair were tangled in the grime. Cindy’s stomach churned as she looked at the state of the bathroom, a far cry from the neat, orderly space it once was. Just a few days of Madison’s unchecked reign had reduced it to this.

As they neared the sink, Cindy felt herself being lifted higher, her body hanging in Madison’s grip. She was lowered without warning, dropping the last inch into the filthy, toothpaste-smeared basin. Her hands instinctively reached out to brace herself, clutching the slimy walls of the sink. The cold, sticky surface made her shudder with revulsion, but she didn’t dare say a word. Above her, Madison loomed, pausing for a moment, her eyes fixed on her mother below.

“If you have to use the bathroom, do it now,” Madison said, her tone condescending, as if she were speaking to a child. “You’re welcome,” she added, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Go ahead. This is a privilege, you know.”

Cindy looked up at her daughter, feeling the full weight of her diminishment. She could see the smirk playing on Madison’s lips, the superiority radiating from her. It wasn’t just a command, it was a reminder of Cindy’s place, a calculated act to make sure Cindy knew how generous Madison was being.

“I was taught that a Little like you should take care of that outside, with the other animals,” Madison continued, her voice dripping with authority. “But I believe in showing a bit more kindness to my Little.”

Cindy’s heart twisted at those words. Animals. That’s how she had always framed it. Littles weren’t meant to have the same luxuries, the same dignity. They were meant to live outside, beneath their guardians, stripped of the basic decencies that once seemed so trivial. Now, standing there in the sink, clutching its grimy walls, Cindy fully understood the cruelty behind her own beliefs. She had enforced these rules, had believed in them without question. But now, with her life turned upside down, she saw it for what it was.

“Thank you, Ms. Wessen,” Cindy murmured, forcing the words out. Each syllable tasted bitter on her tongue, but she knew what Madison expected. “I am humbled.”

The words stung as they left her lips, a final surrender to the role she had been forced into. Once, she would have never allowed a Little to use the bathroom indoors, let alone inside her own home. It was unthinkable. But now, after living these past few days as a Little herself, Cindy realized how harsh, how cold her own rules had been. She could feel the weight of her past actions bearing down on her—how she had stripped away dignity from those she deemed beneath her, how she had justified cruelty under the guise of righteousness.

Madison’s smirk widened at Cindy’s words, clearly satisfied with her mother’s submission. “Good,” she said, her tone softening slightly, though the condescension remained. “You should be grateful. Most Littles don’t get such kindness.”

Cindy looked up at her daughter, her heart heavy with a mix of regret and shame. How had it come to this? She had believed in every rule she had enforced, every principle she had preached. And yet, here she was, thanking her daughter for allowing her the simplest of human decencies. The irony was too sharp, too painful to ignore.

She couldn’t argue. Madison was right. Cindy would have never permitted this. She had been relentless in her beliefs, adamant that Littles were not equals, that their role in society was to serve and obey. But now, as she stood in the grimy sink, a Little in every sense, she realized how wrong she had been. The cruelty of her own rules had come back to her, and there was no escaping it. This was her life now.

Cindy stood frozen, watching as Madison disappeared further into the bathroom. Her daughter’s silhouette, once partially visible through the cluttered sink counter, was soon swallowed entirely by the mess. Now, all Cindy could hear were the familiar sounds of Madison’s phone—scrolling through social media, messaging her friends, and casually playing some mindless game, all without a care in the world. The carefree rhythm of her life had not shifted, even though Cindy’s world had been turned upside down.

The state of the bathroom made Cindy sick. She had avoided coming in here for as long as she could remember, usually just peeking her head through the door to yell at Madison to clean up. That was when she still had authority. She would threaten no allowance, no phone—anything to spur some sort of action. But now? Now she was the one trapped in Madison’s sink, flailing in disgust as she tried to maneuver her way off a patch of dried toothpaste.

Every movement made Cindy’s stomach churn. The sticky residue clung to her, the sensation unbearable. As she struggled to free herself, she landed in something even worse—a substance thicker and tackier than the toothpaste, its origin unknown. She wriggled her way through it, her muscles tense with frustration, but at least she wasn’t immobilized. Not yet.

What made it all worse was the knowledge of where the toothpaste had come from. It wasn’t some innocent glob that had fallen off a toothbrush or squirted too much from the tube. No, this toothpaste had already been used, scrubbed across Madison’s filthy teeth and spat out onto the sink like waste. Cindy could practically feel it, that contaminated paste clinging to her as if she were part of the grime itself. The thought sent a shudder through her.

Distracted by the revulsion gripping her, Cindy lost her balance. She let out a sharp cry as her hands searched desperately for something—anything—to grip onto, something that would stop her fall. But there was nothing. Gravity pulled her down, and she tumbled through the mess of discarded products and toothpaste, sliding unceremoniously toward the bottom of the sink, landing next to the drain.

As Cindy slowly picked herself up, a wave of humiliation washed over her. She was covered in filth. Looking at her own body, she couldn’t even tell where the dirt and grime from the sink ended and her own contamination began. She felt like she had become an extension of Madison’s mess, a part of the filth that her daughter had left behind. It was as if she had become one with the disgusting state of her surroundings.

Her hands trembled as she stood, barely able to contain the scream building inside her. How had it come to this? How had she—once the mother, once the disciplinarian—been reduced to this level? She couldn’t even clean herself, let alone this mess. And, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse, she felt another wave of humiliation rise inside her. She needed to go to the bathroom.

Cindy looked around in desperation. There was no escape, no way to get out of this sink. The bathroom was a mess, Madison was somewhere else, and Cindy had no idea when she’d be given another chance to leave. Swallowing her pride, she did the only thing she could—she relieved herself in the sink, the only option left to her.

Her cheeks burned red with shame, her entire body radiating humiliation. The woman who once commanded respect, who once controlled her household, was now urinating in her daughter’s sink like some forgotten pet. As Cindy finished, her breathing heavy, she looked up, her mind too flustered to notice at first.

Madison was standing above her, her massive form looming like a careless giant. She wasn’t watching directly, but she knew. Cindy could see the slight acknowledgment in her daughter’s eyes, though Madison’s focus remained mostly on her phone. She was scrolling, texting, and swiping, just like before—as if nothing had changed, as if her mother’s degradation wasn’t something even worth noticing.

Cindy’s humiliation deepened, her heart pounding in her chest. She had once held the power, once been the one to demand attention, to demand respect. But now, Madison couldn’t even be bothered to fully look at her. She was just another fixture in the background, just another Little.

“Here,” Madison said simply, dropping a tiny mop and some brushes down in front of Cindy. The tools clattered against the sink, their weight small to Madison but imposing to Cindy’s diminished form. “You always complained about this bathroom—my bathroom, Mom. As if it somehow mattered. No one uses it but me. You and Dad had your own. McKenzie always used the one downstairs. She claimed it years ago. If we have company, they go downstairs. It’s just me, and sometimes my friends, who come in here.”

Madison’s tone was laced with annoyance, her words a reminder of all the times Cindy had demanded she clean her space, back when Cindy had the power to threaten and command. Now, that power was firmly in Madison’s hands, and Cindy was the one stuck in her daughter’s bathroom, staring up at her from the depths of the sink.

“Madison—” Cindy began, instinctively trying to speak, but the collar tightened around her neck before she could finish. The pressure constricted, cutting off her words and forcing the air from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, panic washing over her as the collar did its job—just enough to punish, just enough to remind her of her place. Then, as quickly as it had come, the tightness eased, leaving Cindy gasping, her body trembling from the shock.

“When I’m talking, you stifle it, Mom,” Madison said, her voice calm but authoritative. She even mimicked the gesture Cindy used to make, closing her hand into a fist to symbolize control. The phrase and motion were like a dagger—Cindy had used them so many times with Littles she had once trained, asserting her dominance and setting the rules. Now, she was on the other side, the one being silenced, powerless.

Madison’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as she continued. “Like I was saying, it didn’t matter. Yet, you always made a point to force me to clean. Now I have a Little. A Little whose place is to work and support me. A Little who’s firmly team Madison—loving admiration and support. Isn’t that right, Mom?” Madison’s eyes bore into Cindy, waiting for the acknowledgment. It wasn’t rhetorical. It was a command.

“Yes, Ms. Wessen,” Cindy said, her voice weak but compliant. There was no room for argument. She was in the position she had always believed Littles belonged in, the same position she had fought to enforce. Now, that belief felt like a cruel twist of fate, and she could only look past the grungy porcelain walls of Madison’s sink in despair.

“Good,” Madison said, satisfied. “Then you should have no trouble cleaning it. It seems like a fitting chore for you.” She paused, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips. “I think every few days you’ll have the privilege of being taken out of your habitat and allowed into the human world for this chore. This is where you say thank you, Little.”

Cindy swallowed her pride, biting back the thousand thoughts that raced through her mind. “Yes, of course. Thank you. Thank you, Ms. Wessen,” she said, forcing herself to smile through the humiliation.

“You’re welcome, Mom. I know this must be a treat for you,” Madison continued, her tone dripping with condescension. “Especially after that failure with painting my nails. Even a newborn service Little could handle this job, without the education or guidance that time will bring you under my care. So, you’ll be allowed this privilege—the honor of cleaning my sink. Not just this time, Mom. This is just the first of many. You’ll show Dad how to do it next time, too.”

Madison leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing. “It’s like you always said: ‘A Little needs supervision and guidance, especially early on.’” She set down a small mop bucket filled with cleaning chemicals, the scent of harsh disinfectant filling the air, adding to Cindy’s growing discomfort.

Cindy’s mind raced, unable to fully process the reality of what was happening. She hated cleaning Madison’s sink when she was at full size—now, being tasked with it as a Little felt like a twisted nightmare. This wasn’t just a one-time punishment; it was her future. Her new life. And the worst part was, if she were watching another Little do this same task, she would have praised Madison for finding such a suitable job. She would have commended her daughter for assigning a task that made a Little feel useful, proud even, of their contribution.

But now that she was the Little? It felt different. It felt wrong.

“Is there a problem, Mom?” Madison asked, her voice sharp, her gaze cold.

“No,” Cindy stammered, catching herself quickly. “I mean, no, Ms. Wessen.” Even saying Madison’s name now felt like a betrayal of her own dignity. It was a constant reminder that her daughter’s authority was absolute.

“Then start working,” Madison commanded, folding her arms and leaning against the doorway, watching her mother’s every movement. “Like you always said, ‘If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.’ And really, you’ve gotten to relax in that habitat most of the day. This is the least you could do.”

Madison smirked as she watched Cindy scramble into action, picking up the mop that was nearly as big as she was. The satisfaction on Madison’s face was unmistakable—she was enjoying this. Watching her mother clean the sink she had complained about so many times over the years felt like poetic justice. All those allowances docked, all those hours spent without her phone, because of this sink. Now, her mother would spend the rest of her life maintaining it.

“Oh, and I expect it to be done to the same standards you held me to,” Madison added, her voice light but firm. “Just because you’re a Little now doesn’t mean the standards have changed. You were so passionate about it before—let’s see how you like it.”

Madison turned, heading toward the door, but paused just before she left. “Oh, and one more thing—Littles have good low-light vision, don’t they? You shouldn’t need the light on.” She flipped the switch, plunging the bathroom into darkness. “I believe it was you who said electricity is a luxury for a Little, not a necessity,” she said with a smirk before closing the door behind her, leaving Cindy alone in the dark, surrounded by the grime of the sink and her own feelings of helplessness.

Cindy stood there, unable to move for a moment, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The familiar sting of Madison’s words echoed in her mind—words that Cindy herself had once used to justify the treatment of Littles. Now, those words were her prison. Her punishment.

With a heavy sigh, she began to mop, her heart heavy, her dignity shattered. This was her life now. Cleaning sinks in the dark for her daughter—her guardian.

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