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

It was late in the afternoon when Cindy’s solitude was interrupted by the shrill ring of the tablet Madison had provided her, a device meant for completing assigned tasks, not personal use. The sound echoed sharply within the confines of the habitat, startling her out of her thoughts. She hurried over to the tablet, the screen illuminating as she entered the cumbersome password Madison had set, each character a reminder of her diminished autonomy.

An incoming FaceTime call flashed on the display. Hesitating for a moment, Cindy tapped the accept button. Madison’s face filled the screen, her expression unreadable. Before Cindy could utter a greeting, two more faces crowded into view, Brooklyn and Emma, Madison’s close friends. Brooklyn waved enthusiastically before being playfully shoved aside by Emma, who took center stage.

“Hey, Mrs. Wessen! Sorry about not making it to see you yesterday. I wanted to come over, but I got stuck doing yard work with my dad all day,” Emma said, her tone light and unapologetic.

Cindy managed a small smile, though a knot tightened in her stomach. “It’s alright, Emma. Maybe another time.”

Brooklyn’s face reappeared, her eyes glinting mischievously. “You just call her Cindy now, Emma,” she chimed in, a hint of admonishment in her voice.

Before Cindy could respond, Madison pulled the tablet closer, filling the screen with her face and effectively blocking out her friends. “Sorry, Mom,” she said, though her tone lacked genuine remorse. “We want to hang out a bit longer, so I forwarded Emma’s math homework to you. Just take care of that for me, so Emma can stay out with us.”

The casualness of the request, or rather, the command, made Cindy’s heart sink. “Ma—Ms. Wessen,” she began cautiously, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not sure about doing someone else’s homework. Wouldn’t Emma’s little’s be more familiar.”

Madison’s eyes hardened, cutting her off abruptly. “Stifle it, Mom. Maybe you should do as you’re told, Little. If I wanted to know what you thought, I would have asked.” Madison said with a pause. “Emma’s little is busy and I don’t need to explain myself to my little. I’m telling you what’s going to happen. So now you start doing it.” Her voice dripped with the sharp edge of teenage defiance, a tone all too familiar from before, but now wielded with absolute authority.

Cindy felt a flush rise to her cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and indignation. The use of “Little” stung, a deliberate reminder of her reduced status. “Yes, Ms. Wessen,” she replied quietly, swallowing her pride.

Madison arched an eyebrow, her expression challenging. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you, Little.”

Clearing her throat, Cindy raised her voice just enough to be heard but careful not to trigger the collar’s punitive response. “Yes, Ms. Wessen,” she repeated, the words feeling heavy on her tongue.

“That’s better,” Madison said smugly. “I don’t need the attitude. I need you to do what I say.” She leaned back, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. Behind her, Cindy could see Brooklyn and Emma hiding there giggles, their eyes alight with amusement at the spectacle.

Humiliation washed over her, but she forced herself to maintain composure. “Yes, Ms. Wessen. Sorry, Ms. Wessen,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Madison tilted her head, feigning contemplation. “We’ll talk more about this at home. Just do as you’re told, and maybe this won’t be any worse for you. You’re my Little now, and what was it you always said? Oh yeah, ‘If you give a Little an inch, they’ll take a mile.'” She delivered the quote with exaggerated emphasis, throwing Cindy’s own words back at her like a weapon.

Panic flickered across Cindy’s face. “No, please. I’m sorry. I don’t need a correction. I’m starting on the homework now,” she pleaded, the thought of a punitive “correction” whatever that might entail, filling her with dread.

Madison’s eyes narrowed slightly. “We’ll talk at home,” she repeated, her tone final. Without waiting for a response, she ended the call abruptly, the screen going dark.

Cindy stared at the blank display, her reflection faintly visible. A mix of anger, shame, and helplessness churned within her. The laughter of the girls echoed in her memory, each giggle a jab at her dignity.

Unbeknownst to her, on the other side of the call, Madison slipped the tablet back into her bag, turning to her friends with a triumphant grin. “Oh my god, did you see her face?” she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with excitement. “She was totally scared.”

Brooklyn laughed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she actually calls you ‘Ms. Wessen’ now. That’s wild.”

Madison mimicked Cindy’s voice, pitching it higher in a mocking impression. “‘I don’t need a corrective action!’ It’s like, get a grip, Mom.” The girls erupted into laughter, the sound carrying down the street as they continued on their way.

“She doesn’t understand she’s a Little,” Madison continued, a note of frustration creeping in beneath the mockery. “Her entire job now is to obey and make my life easier. It’s literally her own teaching and theory. This was inevitable though. It’s time she learns her place and understands she’s not above her own teachings. It’s what she would have wanted. She preached no excuses not me. She doesn’t even understand I’m doing all this for her. Putting in the effort of training her in her own style.”

“Atleast you got a little finally.” Brooklyn said trying to be supportive.

“I wanted a pretty Japanese female little. One I could take around and things with like you do with Trina. I could teach them to be bilingual. I could dress her up and style her. I had so many things I dreamed of doing. I can’t do that with my mom. That would be so lame. I might as well tattoo loser across my forehead if I did that. She’s the one who doesn’t understand I’m giving up what I always wanted for her. I’m putting in the work to use her methods and her techniques which I’m still having to fix as some are just cruel and petty.

“Well, my offer still stands. I’d take her in.” Emma said. “I was serious. I hate seeing you like this and this way you could still see her whenever you wanted.” Emma said.

“I never heard about this? You’d really give Cindy up or sell her or whatever?” Brooklyn asked.

“No, I can’t do that. I’d feel guilty she’s still my mom. She can be a pain in the ass but she’s, my mom. She’s family as much as her teachings say otherwise.” Madison said.

“You’re a good daughter Mads.” Emma said. “It says alot that you aren’t taking the easy way out.”

Back in the habitat, Cindy took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The tablet chimed softly, a notification indicating the arrival of the assignment. She opened the file to find Emma’s math homework, an array of complex problems that required detailed work. It wasn’t the content that bothered her; she was more than capable of completing the assignment. It was the principle of the matter.

I’m doing a teenager’s homework while they enjoy their day, and I’m confined here, she thought bitterly. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on her. But what choice did she have? Refusal would only lead to further punishment, and the prospect of Madison’s “corrections” was unsettling.

Resigned, she settled down in the living room area within the habitat. The tools provided were rudimentary, a stylus awkwardly sized for her smaller hands and a digital notepad that lagged with each stroke. She began working through the problems methodically, her analytical mind finding some solace in the logic and structure of mathematics.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted. Maybe if I do this well enough, Madison will ease up. Perhaps she’ll see that I’m cooperating and reconsider the corrective action. It was a fragile hope, but one she clung to nonetheless.

The minutes turned into hours as she diligently solved each equation, showing all the necessary work. The familiar process provided a temporary escape from her circumstances, but the underlying tension never fully dissipated.

Occasionally, she’d pause, flexing her cramped fingers and glancing toward the transparent wall of the habitat. The room beyond was empty, Madison’s belongings strewn haphazardly, a stark contrast to the order Cindy preferred. The sunlight had shifted, casting long shadows that stretched across the floor.

A sigh escaped her lips. How did it come to this? she wondered. The memories of her previous life felt both distant and painfully close. The authority she once held, the respect she commanded, it all seemed like a fading dream.

As evening approached, the light in the room dimmed. She completed the last problem, double-checking her work for accuracy. Satisfied, she sent the assignment back through the tablet, a small sense of accomplishment tinged with resignation.

Exhausted, she leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. The quiet was interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Her heart quickened. Madison’s home.

The door opened, and the familiar sounds of teenage chatter filled the space as Madison and her friends entered. Laughter, snippets of conversation, the rustling of shopping bags, they were reminders of a world that continued spinning without her.

Cindy braced herself as Madison approached the habitat, her silhouette casting a shadow over the small enclosure. “Well, look who’s been busy,” Madison remarked, her tone unreadable.

“I finished the assignment,” Cindy replied softly, standing up to face her daughter.

“Good,” Madison said curtly. “We’ll discuss your performance later.”

Before Cindy could respond, Madison turned away, engrossed in a conversation with Brooklyn about their purchases. The dismissal stung, but there was little she could do.

As the evening wore on, Cindy remained in the habitat, the sounds of the girls’ activities a constant backdrop. Occasionally, she caught fragments of their conversations, plans for the weekend, gossip about classmates, laughter over shared jokes.

Isolation settled over her like a heavy blanket. Despite being surrounded by life, she felt utterly alone. The walls of the habitat seemed closer, the air thicker. She longed for meaningful interaction, for a chance to connect, to be heard.

But for now, all she could do was wait. Wait and hope that, in time, Madison might soften. That perhaps McKenzie could intervene. That somehow, she could find a way to navigate this new reality with dignity.

Cindy lay on the sofa inside the habitat, staring blankly at the ceiling as she tried to quell the turmoil swirling within her. The soft hum of the ventilation system was a constant backdrop, the artificial breeze doing little to alleviate the stifling atmosphere. After hours spent completing Emma’s homework, a degrading task forced upon her by Madison, she longed for a moment of peace. But peace was elusive in this miniature prison.

A shadow moved at the periphery of her vision. Turning her head, Cindy’s heart skipped a beat as she saw Emma approaching the habitat. In the background, Brooklyn and Madison chatted animatedly, their laughter ringing out like echoes from a world she no longer belonged to. Emma’s gaze was inscrutable as she peered inside, her eyes methodically surveying the sparse furnishings and meager possessions that now constituted Cindy’s entire world.

Instinctively, Cindy pulled a small blanket around herself, a futile attempt at modesty. Clad only in her undergarments, she felt exposed under the harsh scrutiny of the teenager’s eyes. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but there was nowhere to hide.

She avoided Emma’s gaze, focusing instead on a small crack in the habitat’s floor. It was unnerving to be observed like this by Madison’s friends, girls she once knew as children, now giants towering over her diminished form. Trapped in this rodent-like body, she was subject to Madison’s every whim, enduring the humiliations of “Little training” in the desperate hope that her eldest daughter might one day grant her a sliver of dignity.

“Hi, Cindy,” Emma said, her tone measured. The name seemed foreign on her tongue as if she were testing it for the first time. She leaned closer, her face framed by impeccably styled hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Cindy noticed the subtle sheen of expensive makeup, the flawless complexion—Emma was every bit the composed young woman Cindy had once admired.

“Emma… hi,” Cindy replied softly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice sounded small, even to herself.

“I believe it’s Ms. Harrington now, isn’t it?” Emma corrected, her gaze steady and unyielding. There was a coolness in her tone, a detached formality that sent a chill down Cindy’s spine.

Before her transformation, Cindy had always noted how Emma carried herself with an air of authority that belied her age. Perhaps it was her British upbringing, or the effortless confidence she exuded. Emma had a way of looking at Littles that seemed to command a natural obedience, a trait Cindy had once praised in her teachings.

Now, finding herself on the receiving end of that piercing gaze, Cindy felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. She was acutely aware of her disheveled appearance, the remnants of dirt under her nails from scrubbing sinks, the tangled mess of her hair that had gone unwashed and unbrushed for days. Madison had denied her even the basic necessities of personal care, adhering strictly to the doctrines Cindy herself had espoused.

Does a tiger shampoo and condition its fur? she had once rhetorically asked during a lecture. No, and neither do Littles, who are akin to the mice they likely evolved from. A simple rinse in lukewarm water is more than sufficient.

How bitter those words tasted now.

Emma stood before her, immaculate in her tailored clothes, not a speck of dust or a hair out of place. The contrast was stark and humiliating. Cindy felt like a drowned rat in comparison—a fitting metaphor, she supposed bitterly.

“I’m sorry to hear about your infection,” Emma continued, her expression unreadable. “You did quite a lot in the realm of Little and Guardian rights. I can’t say I always agreed with your methods, but your results were undeniable. Perhaps now, your efforts will be rewarded. You get to live the life you advocated for Littles to have.”

There was a sharp edge to her words, a subtle indictment wrapped in politeness.

“Please, you have to listen,” Cindy implored, desperation creeping into her voice. She took a hesitant step forward, her small hands clutching the edge of the sofa. “I… I realize now that I was wrong. Things aren’t as simple as I made them out to be. You have to understand Emma,”

Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she raised a hand to silence her. “When it comes to Littles, I don’t have to do anything,” she interrupted, her tone firm but composed. “That was your entire premise, wasn’t it? I attended your lectures, absorbed your teachings, listened to your podcasts. You impressed upon me, and many others, your methods for handling Littles.”

Cindy felt her throat tighten, words failing her.

“I didn’t always agree with you,” Emma admitted, “but I valued your dedication to knowledge and ideas. I respected that about you. However, as a Little, you possess neither now. You’ve lost your platform, your voice.”

She took a deliberate breath, her gaze never leaving Cindy’s. “So no, Cindy, I don’t have to do anything you ask. Here we are, you, begging for scraps of consideration, and me, standing exactly where you once stood. Or as you might have put it, you’re now the one ‘begging for the scraps of humanity.'”

Cindy’s eyes welled with tears, the weight of Emma’s words crushing her.

“I won’t tell you again,” Emma continued coolly. “It’s Ms. Harrington to you now. You will address me with the respect I deserve. I won’t have a Little, especially one in such a disheveled state, sully my name by letting it pass your lips so casually.”

The finality in her tone left no room for argument. Cindy’s shoulders sagged, defeat washing over her. “Yes… Ms. Harrington,” she whispered, the words barely audible.

A faint smile touched Emma’s lips, though it lacked warmth. “Good. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet. Who knows, maybe you’ll be part of my collection. I could use a Cynthia.”

With that, she turned away, rejoining Madison and Brooklyn, their laughter filling the room once more. Cindy sank back onto the sofa, her body trembling. The encounter had left her feeling more isolated than ever, a stark reminder of how far she had fallen.

She stared at her reflection in the polished surface of the habitat glass, a tiny, unkempt figure dwarfed by her surroundings. The memories of her past convictions echoed mockingly in her mind. This is the life you fought for; she thought bitterly. Isn’t it everything you wanted?

But now, trapped in this existence she had so confidently prescribed for others, she saw the flaws in her beliefs with painful clarity. The dignity she had stripped from so many was now denied to her, and the irony was a heavy burden to bear.

Cindy had lost track of time within the confines of the habitat. The artificial lighting cast a perpetual twilight, making it impossible to discern the passing hours. She sat on the edge of the small sofa, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the worn fabric, her mind a haze of regret and exhaustion. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the ventilation system—a constant reminder of her isolation.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Madison looming outside the transparent wall, her expression inscrutable. Behind her stood Brooklyn and Emma, their faces a blend of indifference and subtle curiosity. Gone were the familiar smiles and friendly glances from the girls she once knew; in their place was a cold detachment, as if acknowledging any emotion toward Cindy would be granting her more significance than a Little deserved.

Cindy’s heart sank. The sight of Madison’s friends peering in at her, evaluating her with dispassionate eyes, amplified the sting of her humiliation. It was as though she were an exhibit in a zoo, a creature to be observed but not empathized with. The air felt thin, and she struggled to steady her breathing.

Madison’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and measured. “I thought I’d give you some time to reflect on your earlier actions,” she began, her tone laced with a sternness that belied her youthful features. “You, more than any other Little, should know better than to question your Guardian. I allowed you a bit more freedom, some additional luxuries, but perhaps I was too lenient because you’re my mother. Maybe I was too kind.”

Cindy felt a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak, to apologize, to explain, but the weight of Madison’s authority held her tongue.

“You’re a Little,” Madison continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And you will be made into a proper Little, as that’s what my mother deserves. You seemed to respond well to Emma earlier. Perhaps I’ll let her train you for a few days, let you appreciate my generosity, a generosity you never extended to any Little.”

A chill ran down Cindy’s spine at the mention of Emma taking over her training. The thought of being under the control of her daughter’s friend, a teenager she once mentored, was almost too much to bear.

“Ms. Wessen,” Cindy managed to utter, her voice barely above a whisper.

Madison’s gaze hardened. “I wasn’t finished, and I didn’t give you permission to speak,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “I saw your lips moving, even if I didn’t hear what you said. In fact, you know what? Sit.”

The command hung in the air, heavy with implication. Cindy’s limbs felt leaden, a queasy sensation twisting in her stomach. She glanced briefly at Brooklyn and Emma, hoping for a glimmer of sympathy, but their expressions remained impassive. Any rapport she once had with them was lost; they saw her now only as a Little, unworthy of consideration.

Swallowing her pride, Cindy did the only thing she could. She lowered herself to her knees, moving into the prescribed Little sitting position she had once enforced so rigorously. Her back was straight, hands resting lightly on her thighs, head bowed to avoid meeting Madison’s eyes. The posture was both familiar and foreign, once a symbol of order and discipline, now a mark of her subjugation.

Madison observed her for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Better,” she said coolly. “Perhaps this will remind you of your place. I’m hard on you because you were hard on me. You always said that perfection doesn’t come without work, without effort, without practice. You made me into the Guardian I am today, Mom. You helped all of us become who we are.”

Each word was a dagger, piercing Cindy’s fragile composure. The bitter irony was not lost on her; the teachings she had instilled with such conviction were now being wielded against her.

“Now it’s you who must practice,” Madison continued. “Who must put in the work, show effort for the gifts of knowledge we provide you. I allow you to stay here, not as a right, but as an honor. You fill your belly with pellets because I choose to feed you. So now it’s time you put in the work, Little. Now, you may speak.”

Cindy’s heart pounded in her chest, the weight of Madison’s words pressing down on her like a physical force. The cold, indifferent faces of Brooklyn and Emma behind her daughter were a painful reminder that the girls she once knew, once nurtured and influenced, saw her now as nothing more than a thing, a Little to be molded. Any semblance of authority or respect had evaporated the moment she was reduced in size. Madison’s voice, laden with condescension, grated against her ears, but it was the sheer arrogance, the mockery of her past teachings, that made Cindy feel like she might crumble.

Sitting in the humiliating Little position, the one she had once enforced upon others, Cindy felt the sting of Madison’s words sink deep. A strange, sick irony twisted in her stomach. She had taught her daughter well, too well, it seemed. Her lectures on discipline, her insistence on perfection, her belief in controlling Littles had all returned to her now, only it was her being controlled, her freedom ripped away, just as she had once advocated.

Cindy’s throat tightened. She forced herself to remain still, even as every fiber of her being wanted to fight back, to scream at Madison for being so cruel, so blind to the irony of her words. But Cindy had no power here. Not anymore.

Her eyes remained downcast, unable to meet Madison’s as she spoke. When Madison finally granted her permission to speak, it was clear this wasn’t a conversation, it was another lesson in obedience, in submission. Cindy’s tongue felt heavy, her words bitter and sharp on the edge of her mind, but she swallowed them, knowing they would do nothing but worsen her situation.

“I…” Cindy’s voice was low, controlled, almost too quiet to be heard at first. She hated the way it trembled. “You’re right, Ms. Wessen. I should have known better. I should have…” She paused, swallowing her pride with great difficulty. “I should have respected the boundaries you set. I will put in the work,” she continued.

It felt like an impossible weight to say those words. Everything about this situation was wrong, so wrong. But if Madison was truly willing to strip her of even more dignity, to hand her over to Emma for further training, Cindy had to tread carefully. She knew too well the dangers of pushing Madison when her temper flared. Emma training me, Cindy thought bitterly. The humiliation of that idea was almost unbearable.

In a desperate attempt to salvage some semblance of decency in her degraded state, Cindy carefully continued. “I appreciate the… luxuries you provide.” The words tasted like poison. “I… I will put in the work. I will show effort. I understand now.” Her voice cracked slightly as she added the next phrase, the one Madison wanted to hear. “I’m a Little. And you’re my Guardian.”

Cindy glanced briefly toward Emma and Brooklyn. No flicker of recognition passed between them. They were simply onlookers, witnesses to her downfall. Emma’s calm, composed gaze felt like a blade slicing through whatever was left of Cindy’s dignity, while Brooklyn’s detached expression confirmed what Cindy feared most: to them, she was no longer Cindy Wessen, their peer. She was a problem to be managed, a Little to be trained. She chanced a brief glance toward her daughter, her eyes meeting Madison’s. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something, hesitation, perhaps, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

She lowered her head, her body trembling slightly with the effort of holding herself still, hoping it would be enough. Her mind screamed for some way out, some loophole in this unbearable situation, but she knew the truth. She had built this reality, brick by painful brick, and now she was trapped in it, helpless beneath the weight of her own teachings.

“Thank you, Ms. Wessen,” she added, her voice almost hollow. The words felt foreign in her mouth. “For your generosity.”

“Good,” Madison replied curtly. “See that you do and If you slip up again, you will visit Emma.”

Cindy bowed her head once more, relief mingling with a profound sense of loss. The interaction had drained her, leaving her feeling hollow. The realization that she was now subject to the very doctrines she had championed was a bitter pill to swallow.

As Madison turned away, Brooklyn and Emma exchanged a glance. Brooklyn shrugged subtly a hint of sadness in her eyes as she looked between Cindy and Emma. While Emma looked at Cindy with a cool detachment her feelings and expression as unreadable as her true thoughts. Without a word, they followed Madison out of the room, their footsteps fading into the distance.

Left alone in the quiet of the habitat, Cindy allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She wrapped her arms around herself, the fabric of her worn clothing rough against her skin. The hum of the ventilation seemed louder now, amplifying the emptiness she felt.

Her mind raced with memories of the past, lectures given, policies enforced, the unwavering belief in a system she now found herself crushed beneath. The irony was suffocating. She had built this reality, brick by meticulous brick, never imagining she would one day be imprisoned within it.

A tear slipped down her cheek, warm against the coolness of her skin. She hastily wiped it away, steeling herself. There was no room for weakness; not now.

“I will find a way through this,” she whispered to herself, the words barely audible. “Somehow.”

For now, all she could do was endure. To survive within the confines of the world she had helped create, and perhaps, in time, find a way to atone for the choices that led her here.

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