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

The door clicked shut behind Madison, plunging the bathroom into darkness. The sudden absence of light sent a wave of panic through Cindy, her vision momentarily swallowed by the blackness. For a brief, terrifying moment, she felt utterly trapped, but then her Little vision kicked in, adjusting to the dim surroundings. She could still make out the grimy contours of the sink and the cleaning supplies Madison had dumped at her feet. It was a bitter reminder of her new reality—her body, her senses, everything about her had been altered. She was a Little now.

Her stomach churned as she stared at the mop and brushes Madison had left behind. The thought of using them to clean her daughter’s filth made Cindy want to scream. But even in the solitude of the bathroom, she knew better. She could feel the tight collar around her neck, a constant threat. If she raised her voice, if she let her emotions slip, the collar would activate, cutting off her breath, punishing her for stepping out of line. It was a cruel, silent guard, always watching, always ready to correct her.

“I can’t believe this,” Cindy whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. “I’m actually Madison’s Little. She’s going to treat me like her damn Little, use me like I’m her pet.” The realization hit her again, as harsh as it had the first time. “I’m going to live as a Little to my own daughter.”

The thought made her sick. Cindy had spent years grooming Madison, preparing her for the responsibilities that came with adulthood, even the eventuality of having a Little of her own. She had thought Madison wasn’t ready yet—that she needed more maturity, that her grades needed improvement. Cindy had even considered sending her to a private school to help guide her development. All those plans, all those hopes for her daughter’s future, had been turned on their head.

Now, instead of preparing Madison to get a Little, Cindy was the Little. She was the one standing in the disgusting sink, surrounded by grime, preparing to clean the very thing she had once nagged Madison about. The irony wasn’t lost on her. Just a few days ago, Cindy had demanded that Madison clean this bathroom, threatening to take away her allowance and her phone if she didn’t. Now, Madison was outsourcing the job—to her. Cindy knew that, under different circumstances, she would have applauded Madison for delegating such a task. But not like this. Not when she was the Little being delegated to.

And where was Greg? Her husband, who was supposed to be by her side in this nightmare, was living it up with McKenzie, getting pampered and loved on, while Cindy was left with brushes, mops, and cleaning buckets. It wasn’t fair. Her frustration boiled inside her, but she swallowed it down, knowing there was no outlet for it.

With a sigh of disgust, Cindy grabbed the mop, dunking it into the bucket of soapy water. Just as she began to work, the door creaked open again. Cindy’s heart sank as she looked up to see Madison walking back in, a smug smirk on her face.

“Tut, tut,” Madison said with a mockingly sweet tone. “It doesn’t look like my Little has gotten very far.” She laughed, a sound that echoed through the bathroom, bouncing off the walls. “You’re hilarious, Mom. You could never clean this sink in a reasonable time frame. You’re much too Little for that.”

Cindy’s grip tightened on the mop, her knuckles turning white. She wanted to snap back, but the collar around her neck kept her silent.

Madison crossed her arms, looking down at Cindy as if she were no more than a pet. “I mainly just wanted to see you try,” she said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t do that to you. You’re my mom, after all—even if you are my Little.”

Relief washed over Cindy, and she nearly collapsed from the weight of it. “Thank you, thank you. So I don’t need to clean this? Oh, thank god,” she said, her voice trembling with exhaustion. “You really had me going.”

Madison’s smirk widened. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I meant you didn’t have to clean the sink at all?” she asked, her tone dripping with false innocence. “Mom, that’s funny. I like a Little with a sense of humor.”

Cindy’s stomach dropped. She had misunderstood, and the relief she had felt moments ago was ripped away.

“You are going to clean the sink,” Madison continued, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I just got you a pressure washer. The sink will give you good training on how to use it. It’s probably too much for Dad to handle, but you’re going to have plenty of other tasks. Shoes to clean, jewelry to polish, phone screens to wipe, my smart watch… all kinds of things that will become part of your daily life as my Little. Just think of all the ways you’ll be useful.”

Madison set the pressure washer down in the sink with a loud clunk. Cindy flinched at the sound, the weight of her new life crashing down on her all over again.

“Those mops, brushes, little rags—they’re all part of your workset now,” Madison continued, her voice turning serious. “Obviously, you can’t pressure wash everything. And my Little would never damage any of my stuff, would she?” Madison’s voice took on a harsh edge, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

“No, no, of course not,” Cindy stammered, her heart racing.

“Good,” Madison said with satisfaction. “Anything of mine that you handle should be treated like a national treasure. As a Little, you should understand that most of it is more important than you are now. Isn’t that right, Mom? Isn’t that what you always said?”

Cindy’s face burned with shame. Those were her words. She had taught those lessons, instilled them in her daughters and others. A Little’s value had always been secondary to the usefulness of objects—phones, watches, even shoes.

“Yes,” Cindy whispered. “Yes, that’s what I said.”

Madison raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. “I must have missed my Little thanking me for my generosity. I’m putting your beliefs into practice, Mom. Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

Cindy’s lips trembled, the words caught in her throat. “Thank you, Ms. Wessen,” she finally forced out. “Thank you for your generosity.”

Madison nodded, satisfied. “Good girl. Now, get to work.”

“Honey, please, you have to listen—” Cindy began, but her voice faltered. It sounded weak, meek, nothing like the commanding tone she used to have. It didn’t have the force to dominate a room anymore; it barely had the force to reach Madison’s ears.

Madison’s gaze sharpened, her arms crossing tighter. “I have to what? Did you just tell me what I have to do?” she asked, her voice hard and cold. “I don’t believe it. Cindy Wessen, of all people, the woman who taught everyone how this all worked, who paved the way for purebred rights, is now saying that her guardian has to do something?”

Cindy’s heart raced, fear taking hold as she realized her mistake. Madison’s words cut deep, each one reminding her of the rules she had set in place, the beliefs she had preached to everyone. Now, she was being held to those very standards.

“You know better than that, don’t you, Mom?” Madison continued, her voice laced with authority. “A person doesn’t have to do anything for a Little. It’s the Little who has to do things for their guardian. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Cindy stammered, her eyes lowering in defeat. “I misspoke.”

“That’s what I thought,” Madison said, her tone softening but still laced with condescension. “Now, get back to work. This is what you always wanted. Remember?”

Cindy didn’t respond, her mind too overwhelmed to form words. She simply lowered her head and picked up the pressure washer, knowing that there was no escape. She was trapped in the very system she had created, bound by the rules she had once enforced on others. Her only hope now was to navigate it carefully, to find a way to influence Madison from within the confines of the world she had built.

As much as it hurt, as much as she hated it, Cindy knew one thing for certain: she was Madison’s Little, and nothing was going to change that. She had made sure of it herself.

Cindy sat quietly, her thoughts swirling as Madison’s words lingered in the air. The cold truth settled into her bones—change could only come from within the very system she had built. The irony was crushing. She had spent years advocating for a society that placed Littles in subservient roles, convinced that it was for the best. Now, she was trapped within that same world, the very world she had helped create.

As Madison spoke, Cindy began to see that she wasn’t going to change her daughter’s mind through words or arguments. The beliefs she had fought so hard to establish had spread too far, taken root too deeply. She had won the war, but it was for the wrong side. Now, the only way forward was to try to change Madison from within, to make her a better person, even if she couldn’t change society at large. It was the least she could do—to try to undo some of the damage in her own daughter’s heart, even if the rest of the world remained unchanged.

Greg’s words echoed in her mind. They needed to be there for their children. They needed to find a way to live within the confines of the new world they inhabited. They were part of the Little world now, for better or worse. Any influence Cindy had left was through Madison, and Madison alone. As much as she hated it, as much as it twisted her heart to admit it, she was Madison’s Little. Nothing was going to change that now—not after all she had done to ensure this very outcome.

“I can see you understand, Mom,” Madison said, her voice shifting into a tone that was almost sweet. It was the same voice Cindy remembered from years ago, the voice of her preteen daughter who used to follow her around, eager to help with anything she could. “I know you misspoke earlier. This is just how things have to be. You’re a Little, my Little, and the best way I can honor who you were is by training you to be the best, most proper Little I can. Just like I know you’d want me to. I know as a Little you aren’t exactly the same person anymore.”

Cindy’s heart ached as she listened to Madison’s words. There was a tragic innocence in the way her daughter spoke, as if she truly believed this was the right thing to do, that this was how she could honor the mother she had once known. Cindy wanted to scream, to tell her daughter that she was still the same person, that she hadn’t changed.

“No, honey,” Cindy said softly, her voice trembling. “I am. I am the same person. I haven’t changed.”

Madison smiled at her, the kind of smile you give to someone who doesn’t understand. “I know you’re trying to comfort me. You’re a good Little. I’ll work hard to train you, to teach you everything my mom taught me. You deserve that, and it’ll give you the best chance at having a good life as a Little. It’s greedy of me, I know, but it’s nice seeing everything you fought for, everything you worked so hard to build.”

Madison’s voice grew softer, almost nostalgic. “All the fundraising, the social events, the training programs, the public speaking… all the educational videos on Little training and guardian training. It makes me feel like everything you fought for is still alive, like it’s still here. So, in a way, it’s like you’re not gone.”

Cindy’s throat tightened. What could she say? How could she argue with this? Her daughter was trying to honor the legacy she had built, to keep her mother’s vision alive, even as it twisted her into something Cindy no longer recognized. There was no cruelty in Madison’s words, but the weight of her sincerity crushed Cindy’s heart. She had created this reality, and now she had to live in it.

The belief was that when a person became a Little, it was as though their human body died and they were reborn in the flesh of a Little. The body’s cells, the physical matter, broke down and regenerated, but imperfectly. This was why the cure never worked—why, despite all attempts, humanity couldn’t play God. The newly formed cells weren’t compatible with the original. Over time, they broke down, leaving only the “God-given” matter behind. It was like a person had to mourn the loss of who they had been, accepting that what remained was both the same and irrevocably different.

Cindy felt that now, more than ever. She was mourning herself—mourning the woman she had been, the mother, the advocate, the fighter. What was left was a shadow of that person, reborn into this new body, this new life. And Madison—her sweet, misguided daughter—was doing what she thought was right, trying to hold on to the pieces of her mother that still existed.

“You can start cleaning now,” Madison said suddenly, her tone shifting back to that of a guardian instructing her Little. “I’ll fetch you in a bit. Since it’s the weekend, you’re allowed to stay up past nine tonight. I can’t control fully what McKenzie does with Dad, but you are mine, and you will follow my rules. It’s what Mom would want.”

Cindy flinched at the last words. It’s what Mom would want. Madison had no idea how wrong she was.

“Be thankful you aren’t one of Emma’s Littles,” Madison added, her voice casual as she moved toward the door. “She’s from England, and she brought house Littles with her. Her personal Little is American, though. But anyway, her house Littles double as pooper scoopers. You know, because why should she have to pick up after her dogs? That’s what Littles are for.”

Cindy swallowed the lump in her throat, trying not to think too much about what Madison had just described. She had known Emma—at least, she thought she had. The girl had always seemed sweet, polite, well-mannered. But Cindy had never met Emma’s parents, never seen what life was like in their household. The thought of being a house Little, cleaning up after dogs, sent a shiver through her. But then again, was it really all that different from her own situation? She was a Little now, tasked with cleaning sinks. The differences seemed less and less clear with every passing moment.

Reluctantly, Cindy picked up the pressure washer Madison had left behind. It was large, heavy, and awkward in her hands, but once she turned it on, the steady stream of water gave her some small sense of relief. It was better than scrubbing with the mop. As she sprayed the sides of Madison’s filthy sink, she realized that it would still take time, but at least she could clean small sections in one pass.

“You’re doing great, Mom,” Madison said from the doorway, her voice light and almost cheerful. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll check back on you later.”

The door closed behind her with a click, and Cindy was left alone in the bathroom, the pressure washer humming in her hands. The darkened room felt suffocating, the only light coming from the faint glow of the hallway seeping under the door. As she sprayed the dirty walls of the sink, a part of her wanted to scream—to lash out and demand that Madison see her as more than just a Little. But deep down, she knew the truth. Madison couldn’t see her that way anymore. To Madison, she was a Little now, and nothing was going to change that.

As the minutes passed and the sound of water echoed through the bathroom, Cindy worked in silence, her heart heavy with the realization that this was her life now. She was Madison’s Little, cleaning sinks in the dark, waiting for her daughter to return.

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