Alejandra settled into the hard plastic chair of the cramped exam room and lowered Charity into her lap like a docile lapdog. The faint hum of an old ceiling fan stirred the stale air, mixing the sharp bite of antiseptic with the musk of dog fur that clung to the faded floor tiles.
Charity sat stiffly, perched on Alejandra’s denim-clad thigh, her tiny palms pressed to the curve of Alejandra’s knee for balance. The exam room door creaked open and a man in a faded white coat entered, a tablet clutched loosely in one hand.
“Buenas tardes,” he greeted with a genial smile, his Spanish rolling out warm and quick as he shook Alejandra’s hand. He barely glanced at Charity at first, and when he did, it was with the same polite curiosity he might show a stray cat on his porch.
They spoke in rapid-fire Spanish. Laughter flickered between them, a few soft chuckles, nods, gestures. Charity’s eyes darted back and forth between their faces, she caught fragments, a word here, a name there, but the sense dissolved before she could clutch it. She felt like a child again, ignored while grown ups spoke over her head about things that would shape her world whether she understood them or not.
Then the doctor’s eyes slid back to her, the smile still warm but faintly patronizing. Switching to English, he asked, “So your little doesn’t speak Spanish at all?”
“No,” Alejandra answered smoothly, her fingers slipping into Charity’s hair to give her a gentle, patronizing scratch behind the ear. “She isn’t very educated. She only knows English. But that’s okay, right, Pequeña?”
Charity’s stomach twisted. She wanted to slap that hand away. Instead, she stayed rigid and silent as Dr. Garza tapped at his tablet.
“Okay, let’s start by building her file.” His fingers clattered over the touchscreen. Charity’s eyes locked on the words appearing as he spoke aloud: Guardian, Alejandra Jiménez.
Her breath caught in her throat. Jiménez. Her father’s name, the one that had opened boardrooms, that people whispered about in respect or envy, nowhere to be found. Charity Stevens appeared once, a ghost note buried at the bottom of the digital page, little more than a historical footnote.
“This is Patrona Jiménez,” Alejandra said calmly, each syllable erasing Charity’s last name like chalk under water. “Her legal name is Charity Jiménez.”
Charity wanted to scream. I’m not yours. But her voice stuck in her throat like glue.
Dr. Garza finished inputting Alejandra’s address, a run-down complex in the heart of the Mexican district. Nothing about marble floors, security gates, or trust fund numbers.
Then, without warning, Alejandra lifted Charity and set her on the cold steel exam table. Charity flinched at the sudden chill against her bare thighs. Dr. Garza hummed to himself as he wheeled closer, a scanner whirring softly over her trembling body.
She watched, cheeks burning, as her insides flickered to life on a grimy monitor: bones, organs, the tiny modified throat she’d only half realized was wrong.
“She looks healthy,” Dr. Garza said. He smiled faintly at Alejandra, not even glancing at Charity’s stricken face. “It seems she recently finished her metamorphosis. I can extract the remaining catalyst for you, if you like, inject it now. It will extend your lifespan nicely. You’re young enough to benefit fully.”
Alejandra nodded once, so casual.
Charity’s eyes widened. Her voice burst out, ragged and strained: “I-I don’t consent! You can’t take that out of me and put it in her! I don’t want…”
“Patrona, hush.” Alejandra’s tone snapped like a whip. Her palm pressed firmly to the small of Charity’s back, holding her in place. “Don’t make me tell you again, Pequeña.” Her eyes bored into Charity’s until she wilted under the weight of them, ashamed, furious, humiliated beyond words.
Dr. Garza barely blinked. He glanced at Alejandra for confirmation, a single nod, and then pressed Charity down with one strong hand. She squirmed, a soft, pathetic whimper squeaking from her throat, too small to matter.
In one swift, efficient motion, the needle pierced her skin. A warm, nauseating wave rushed through her chest as he drew out the precious substance that had changed her body forever.
She gasped when he released her. Rolling half onto her side, she watched, helpless, as Dr. Garza injected the tiny vial of her stolen metamorphosis directly into Alejandra’s arm. A casual boost of life. Her life. Handed over without question.
Charity’s voice shook as she forced out, “I’m not an animal… I’m not trash. I…” But neither of them was looking at her.
She heard her old voice in her head, commanding staff like they were furniture. She heard herself laughing at maids who dared complain about working conditions. Now look who’s invisible.
Dr. Garza spoke again, calmly: “I did notice her vocal cords didn’t form quite correctly during metamorphosis. It’s not dangerous, but a simple surgery could correct it, or you can leave it. Her voice will just be softer than average.”
Charity’s mouth fell open. So, she hadn’t imagined it. This tiny squeak isn’t me.
She croaked out, “How much is the surgery?” She hated how her voice cracked, tiny and tremulous, proving the point.
Dr. Garza didn’t even turn his head. He spoke to Alejandra instead. Charity’s nails dug into the table’s cold steel.
“Excuse me! How much…” she hissed, then spun on Alejandra, desperation spilling over: “Okay, Alejandra, I played along with this vet thing you wanted, but now something’s wrong. I want to see my doctor. This isn’t a game anymore…”
Alejandra didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. Her soft smile made the words worse: “I don’t think that will be necessary, Patrona. Your voice is fine. Maybe we’ll fix it later. If you behave. Money doesn’t grow on trees for the rest of us Patrona.”
Dr. Garza nodded, typing more notes. “No harm in delaying. It’s a few thousand dollars, but insurance can cover some. It won’t worsen if left as is. You can do it anytime.”
Charity’s vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall. Her little voice squeaked again: “Please, please, just fix it. I knew it was wrong, please, Alejandra…”
Alejandra’s fingers brushed her scalp in a mock-patient pat. Her tone chilled Charity to her bones:
“We’ve decided. Patrona will keep her quiet little voice. Maybe we’ll fix it later if she proves she can be a good Mexican Little. If you bring it up again, there will never be a surgery. Do you understand me?”
Charity’s throat clenched around a sob.
Alejandra turned back to the vet. “Chip her. The tracking one. I want to see her on my phone.”
Charity’s knees buckled as Dr. Garza reached for the injector. Her last protest died on her tongue, swallowed by the same too-small voice she no longer recognized.
that was painful compared to Jordan, greg and Cindy’s visit to Stephs mom, though i’m guessing this is a way smaller cheaper clinic, or it’s because it’s an actual veterinarians office instead of whatever the clinic Stephanie’s mom works at is classified as.
It’s a Mexican vet located in the Mexican district providing care to Mexican and Latin American consumers who have moved to America.
Similar to the dental vacation packages Americans do to get cheaper dentist treatments outside the us but to us standards.
This is the same concept only for Latin America and Mexico standards and cost. So it’s cheaper then going to a hospital but provides the care they are used too in their native counties.
It probably helped that Dr Wilson had Lisa assisting, a fellowLittle in the procedure would be calming for them
Yeesh I feel bad for Charity.
ikr? This story is a huge culture shock. Even Greg and Cindy don’t have it this bad yet. not that their situation is great but at least their daughters still lets their walls down and treat them like more than littles from time to time, greg more than cindy but cindy gets it sometimes still
Greg and Cindy are with family
Though. Charity isn’t related to Alejandra. Alejandra only treats her how her culture treats and cares for littles.
I think culture shock is a good way to put it. As this is the first time another culture is depicted in details and nit mentioned in passing. As fleshed out Mexico wholly as its own unique country with systems and ideals and laws. They have different beliefs and ideals just like people in other cultures.
As while America in this story is a different culture then our own it’s easy to overlook as they are still Americans and things are similar. But this is the first time that is not the case.
You are seeing someone foreign with foreign beliefs and ideals depicted who think and. Believe differently then we do because they are different
I may be jaded but ones lack of planning or taking of precautions does not illicit sympathy from me.
Everyone has access to the same information and one’s failure to take something seriously is not my problem. Is how I feel In real life and how I feel about charity.
lol sounds like you’ve had people put in a lot of last minute tickets because they didn’t realize old hardware does actually fail and needs to be replaced before that happens
Every day. But also true in other areas of life. Even traveling it’s shocking how unprepared people can be
god i hear that on traveling….i don’t even travel and it still bothers me. My dad was the pinnacle of being prepared though. he had to bring a portable blender if he and my mom would go somewhere, and make sure it was TSA secure for flying so he could eat on trips. meanwhile people go on trips and are never prepared for the culture they are going into lol
I was a gold flyer and I traveled light and bought anything I needed where I was going lol. diving in the culture by need lol. I have umbrellas from all over the world, had to by a lot lol.
Understandable. Although her issues are not unique to people with lower incomes. You often have to live with medical issues as the cost can be a lot.
Charity’s issue is not life threatening. She can still live normally
I am again feeling bad for charity not being with a friend or at least someone like Sara who shares history good or bad and shares customs. She is dealing with a lot of culture changes with being a little that is harsh, even for her. I have worked all over the world and I would never want to be anywhere but the US. The world is a very different place. Dealing with it as a little is a lot.
can’t wait for the next page can you upload now?
1) “She felt like a child again, ignored while grown ups spoke over her head about things that would shape her world whether she understood them or not” that is part of being a Little I’m afraid.
2) “No,” Alejandra answered smoothly, her fingers slipping into Charity’s hair to give her a gentle, patronizing scratch behind the ear. “She isn’t very educated. She only knows English. But that’s okay, right, Pequeña?” I love how mush Ale is enjoying this, that would have felt good to say about the bratty private school girl.
3) “It seems she recently finished her metamorphosis. I can extract the remaining catalyst for you, if you like, inject it now. It will extend your lifespan nicely. You’re young enough to benefit fully.” I was wondering if/when Smallara Remnants (or catalyst, as it’s now called) would be brought up again.
4) “I-I don’t consent! You can’t take that out of me and put it in her! I don’t want…” Don’t you dare make me feel sorry for Charity. lol
5) “A warm, nauseating wave rushed through her chest as he drew out the precious substance that had changed her body forever” How many doses did Charity have?
6) “Dr. Garza injected the tiny vial of her stolen metamorphosis directly into Alejandra’s arm. A casual boost of life. Her life. Handed over without question.” that would have been heartbreaking
7) “She heard her old voice in her head, commanding staff like they were furniture” who the fuck commands furniture?
8) “I did notice her vocal cords didn’t form quite correctly during metamorphosis. It’s not dangerous, but a simple surgery could correct it, or you can leave it. Her voice will just be softer than average.” Oh a rebirth defect is an interesting twist, and a fittingly cruel one for Charity.
9) “Please, please, just fix it. I knew it was wrong, please, Alejandra…” Now you’ve done it. I’m actually feeling sorry for her.
10) “We’ve decided. Patrona will keep her quiet little voice. Maybe we’ll fix it later if she proves she can be a good Mexican Little. If you bring it up again, there will never be a surgery. Do you understand me?” Fuck you, Alejandra!