Madison’s World Redux Season 3 Episode 92

“Madison went over to Krysi’s house,” McKenzie said as she climbed the stairs. “Which means we have the place to ourselves for a change.” 

Behind her, Chelsea Deetz laughed. 

“Is that what we’re calling it? Because normally it sounds like Madison’s entire cult has taken over downstairs.” 

McKenzie glanced back over her shoulder. “It is not a cult.” 

Chelsea raised her eyebrows. 

“It’s not,” McKenzie insisted. 

“Sure.” 

“It’s a friend group.” 

“A friend group with assigned Littles, homework labor, social rankings, and suspiciously coordinated sweatshirts.” 

McKenzie tried not to smile and failed. 

Chelsea followed her up the stairs, one hand on the railing, the other holding a drink carrier balanced against her hip. She was short for their age, brunette, dark-eyed, her hair pulled into a ponytail that bounced from side to side with each step. Her purse knocked lightly against her hip as she climbed. McKenzie’s own purse did the same, though the heavier sound of her tennis bag dominated both, the strap cutting across one shoulder while the bag thumped faintly against her thigh. 

“It’s so rare the McKenzie Wessen has time for little old me,” Chelsea said. “This is exciting.” 

“Shut up, Chelsea. You know I try.” 

“I know you claim to try.” 

“And when I only had a mini practice today, you were literally the first person I called.” 

“Like I said,” Chelsea replied, lifting the drink carrier slightly, “honored.” 

They reached the top of the stairs. 

McKenzie’s smile faded a little as they approached her room. 

“Dad should be in his habitat,” she said. “Madison said she left him here.” 

Chelsea’s teasing expression softened, but only slightly. “Okay.” 

“So don’t be loud or weird or freak him out.” 

Chelsea gave her a look. “Kenzie, I know my way around a Little.” 

McKenzie reached for her door handle. “I know.” 

“We have Little safety courses at school. Also, I’ve been here before.” 

“I know.” 

“And I bring him littlecinos like a saint.” 

McKenzie huffed. “I just like to be thorough.” 

Chelsea’s expression changed at that. 

McKenzie looked at the closed door for a second before opening it. 

“He’s my dad,” she said quietly. “Not just some Little.” 

Chelsea nodded. 

The humor did not disappear from her face, but it moved aside enough to make room for something gentler. 

“I know.” 

Then, because she was Chelsea and sincerity could only be allowed to stand for half a breath before being teased into safety, she added, “He’s still, like, dad cute though.” 

McKenzie turned so fast Chelsea nearly bumped into her. 

“He is not dad cute.” 

Chelsea grinned. “I’m just saying.” 

“We are not even talking about that. Get it out of your mind.” 

“Fine,” Chelsea said dramatically. “It’s not like I was going to date him or something.” 

“Chelsea.” 

“I’m just saying your dad is not bad looking for his age. Especially compared to the other dads who show up to watch tennis.” 

McKenzie stared at her in mock horror. “Are you ranking the tennis dads?” 

Chelsea shrugged. “I have to do something between all the grunting.” 

“We are not grunting.” 

“You absolutely are.” 

“It just happens when you hit with force.” 

“Sure. Very dignified. Very primal.” 

McKenzie rolled her eyes and opened the door. 

Chelsea slipped in first with the drink carrier, already lifting her voice before McKenzie could stop her. 

“Hey, Mr. W, we’re back. I even brought you a littlecino.” 

She paused just inside the room and looked toward the habitat. 

“Oh. Sorry, Mr. W. I didn’t know you were sleeping. His habitat is so cute” 

McKenzie came in behind her and dropped her tennis bag near the closet with a controlled thud. “You say that every time.” 

“Because his habitat is cute every time.” 

“You also say that every time.” 

“Well, it keeps being true.” 

Greg stirred inside the habitat. 

McKenzie’s room was quiet and ordered around him. The converted cage apartment sat against the wall, lit softly from within. To someone full sized, it looked impressive in a niche, handcrafted sort of way. To Greg, McKenzie knew, it was home and cage at once. Living room, tiny kitchen, bedroom, separated bathroom. The best she could build with the help she had, the research she trusted, and the guilt that never quite stopped sharpening itself under her ribs. 

Greg sat up from the small couch, blinking. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said. “I was just resting my eyes.” 

Chelsea crouched by the habitat, careful with the drink carrier. “Classic dad line.” 

Greg smiled faintly. “I earned it.” 

McKenzie moved closer. “What were you doing?” 

“Middle school homework all afternoon.” 

Chelsea winced. “Brutal.” 

“You have no idea.” 

Chelsea opened the access panel with a practiced glance at McKenzie first, then reached in slowly with the tiny cup. “For your suffering.” 

Greg took the littlecino with both hands. 

“Thanks, Chelsea. You didn’t have to.” 

“I know.” 

He took a sip and sighed before he could stop himself. 

“These are so good,” he said. “Closest I can get to actual coffee.” 

Chelsea smiled, pleased. “No trouble. We always stop anyway. And you were always one of the good ones.” 

Greg looked up at her. 

Chelsea’s tone stayed casual, but not careless. 

“Still are, in my book.” 

For a second, Greg did not answer. 

Then he nodded. “That means a lot.” 

Chelsea waved a hand like the sincerity had gotten too heavy. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make it emotional. I can only do generous and heartfelt in tiny doses.” 

She sat in McKenzie’s desk chair and spun once. 

McKenzie gave her a look. “You’re going to hit the dresser.” 

Chelsea stopped herself with one foot. “I am extremely spatially aware.” 

“You are extremely not.” 

Greg took another sip of the littlecino and watched them with tired amusement. 

McKenzie lowered herself near the habitat, sitting on the floor so she could be closer to Greg’s level without hovering directly over him. She still did that when she remembered. Sat down. Lowered her voice. Made herself less enormous where she could, even though nothing could change the basic fact of her size. 

“Dad, we were just planning on chilling the rest of the day,” she said. “You can join us if you want. Or if you just want to exist in your space, that’s cool too.” 

Greg’s expression softened. 

McKenzie looked at the habitat, then back at him. 

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re caged or anything.” 

The words came out awkwardly. 

Chelsea stopped spinning. 

Greg looked around the interior of the habitat for a moment before answering. 

“It does really suck that Littles have to live in habitats,” Chelsea said from the desk chair. 

McKenzie glanced over. 

Chelsea lifted one shoulder. “I mean, I understand the reasoning. Safety, warmth, predators, appropriately sized spaces, all that stuff they teach us. It just always feels suffocating, you know?” 

“What would you have them live in?” McKenzie asked. 

Chelsea made a face. “I don’t know. I don’t have a better solution. I was just saying.” 

Greg looked down at the littlecino in his hands. 

“I think how bothersome it is depends on the habitat,” he said. “The more it feels like a home, the less of an issue it is.” 

McKenzie’s eyes moved to him. 

Greg looked around again, toward the little kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom door McKenzie had insisted he have even though Madison had rolled her eyes at the complexity. 

“What McKenzie put together here is really home like,” he said. “It’s comfortable. I mean, the door is locked, and I understand what that is. But it helps.” 

McKenzie swallowed. 

“Thanks, Dad. But you have to say that.” 

Greg looked at her. “I don’t have to say it.” 

Chelsea leaned back in the chair, quieter now. 

Greg set the littlecino on the tiny table beside him. 

“But Kenz,” he said, “we need to talk about something. It’s important.” 

McKenzie straightened. 

Greg was not normally that direct. 

Not anymore. 

He had become softer in captivity, not weaker exactly, but careful. He used humor to move around fear. He made observations instead of demands. He let McKenzie guide the room because the room, practically speaking, belonged to her. When Greg spoke like this, McKenzie felt something in herself brace. 

“Oh?” she said. 

Greg looked at Chelsea, then back at McKenzie. 

Chelsea noticed. “Do you want me to step out?” 

Greg hesitated. 

McKenzie said, “If it’s family…” 

Greg shook his head. “No. It’s fine. Chelsea already knows enough about us to know how weird things are.” 

“Unfortunately true,” Chelsea said. 

Greg took a breath. 

“I should have said something sooner,” he said. “But before all this, before Smallara, I had gotten Madison a Little.” 

Chelsea burst out laughing. 

It was not mean. 

It was pure surprise, sharp and uncontrolled. 

“Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “Sorry. Wait. What?” 

Greg did not smile. 

Chelsea’s laughter faltered. 

“Can a Little buy a Little?” she asked, still half caught in the absurdity. “I thought that was not allowed. Just thinking about it logistically hurts my head.” 

“I didn’t do it now,” Greg said. 

The room quieted. 

“I did it before.” 

McKenzie’s face had gone still. 

Greg looked at her directly. 

“I had started the process for the Japanese Little Madison always wanted.” 

The words entered the room like something dropped from a height. 

Chelsea stopped moving entirely. 

McKenzie stood. 

Not fast at first. Not dramatically. She simply rose to her feet because sitting suddenly felt impossible. 

“What?” 

Greg continued because stopping now would be worse. 

“You have to go through the Japanese government. It’s a lot of paperwork, fees, placement requirements. I filled it out. I paid what needed to be paid. Then Smallara happened, and everything got…” He looked down at himself. “Everything got crazy. I honestly hadn’t thought about it for a while. But it came back up, and I told your mother.” 

“YOU WHAT?” 

McKenzie’s voice cracked through the room. 

Greg flinched. 

Chelsea did too. 

McKenzie immediately lowered her volume, but the fury stayed in her face. 

“You told Mom?” 

Greg nodded. “Yes.” 

“Dad.” 

“She needed to know.” 

“Mom needed to know?” McKenzie repeated. “You told Mom that you bought Madison her dream Japanese Little?” 

“I did not buy her like a toy off a shelf.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Greg’s mouth tightened. “Yes.” 

McKenzie ran both hands into her hair and turned away, then turned back. 

“She’s going to think Madison is going to replace her.” 

Greg was silent. 

McKenzie laughed once, without humor. 

“Of course she is. Of course that’s where her brain is going to go. You have no idea how badly Madison wants this.” 

Greg looked up. “I know she wanted one.” 

“No, Dad.” McKenzie pointed toward him, not accusing exactly, but urgent. “No. You know she liked the idea. You do not know how badly she wants a Japanese female Little.” 

Chelsea shifted in the desk chair, glancing between them. 

McKenzie continued, “She has a box.” 

Greg nodded. “I’ve seen the box of outfits.” 

McKenzie stared. 

“No,” she said. “You’ve seen the box for Mom.” 

Greg blinked. 

“The clothes Madison has been using with Mom? The starter outfits and little sweaters and all that?” McKenzie said. “Those are for Mom. Stuff she liked for Mom. Stuff she bought after everything started changing.” 

Greg’s expression altered slowly. 

McKenzie’s voice lowered. 

“Madison has a separate box for her Japanese Little.” 

Chelsea whispered, “Oh.” 

McKenzie looked toward her closet as if the box were somehow there too, even though it was in Madison’s room. 

“She has outfits. Accessories. Notes. Language stuff. Hair ideas. She even has a name.” 

Greg closed his eyes. “Akari.” 

McKenzie looked back at him sharply. 

“So you do know.” 

“Your mom told me.” 

McKenzie’s face twisted. 

“Great.” 

Greg’s shoulders slumped. 

McKenzie paced once, short and tight, between the habitat and the bed. 

“You are going to be the greatest father in the world to her,” she said. 

Greg looked up. 

McKenzie’s voice was sharp, but pain moved under it. 

“Seriously. If Madison finds out you did this, I might not even be able to see you because your pedestal will be so high.” 

Chelsea looked like she wanted to joke and knew better. 

Greg did not. 

“I realize in hindsight,” he said slowly, “that it may not have been the greatest decision to get a Little.” 

Chelsea gave him a sideways look. 

“I mean,” she said carefully, “Littles are purchasable.” 

McKenzie turned on her. 

Chelsea lifted both hands. “I’m not saying it’s morally beautiful. I’m saying, in the world we actually live in, it’s not that odd. People buy ponies for their kids. Cars. Expensive pets. Private tutors. Whatever. A Little is not some unheard gift.” 

“That is not helping,” McKenzie said. 

Chelsea winced. “Sorry.” 

Greg looked at Chelsea, then McKenzie. “She’s not wrong about how I thought of it.” 

McKenzie stared at him. 

Greg’s voice was quiet. “That is part of the problem.” 

The anger in McKenzie’s face shifted. 

Not gone. 

Changed. 

Greg leaned slightly against the tiny table. 

“Look. I don’t know the status of this. I don’t know if anything paused because of Smallara, or if the process kept going, or if someone sent emails I never saw because I can’t exactly check my old accounts.” 

McKenzie’s eyes flicked toward her laptop. 

“The money isn’t the point anymore,” Greg said. “If it’s gone, it’s gone. I need you to check on the application and see if we can cancel it.” 

McKenzie looked at him. 

For the first time since he said it, she did not immediately answer. 

Chelsea sat very still. 

Greg noticed the silence. 

“Kenz?” 

McKenzie’s jaw tightened. 

“Dad,” she said slowly, “are you sure?” 

Greg blinked. 

“I’m asking,” McKenzie said, “because this is not a small thing.” 

“Getting her a Little was not a small thing.” 

“No, I know.” McKenzie rubbed both hands over her face. “I know. But canceling it is also not small.” 

Greg stared. 

McKenzie looked toward the door, as if Madison might appear despite being across the neighborhood at Krysi’s. 

“Madison has always wanted this,” she said. “Not just any Little. A Japanese Little. From Japan. Female. Her age. Bilingual if possible. She has been dreaming about this for years.” 

Greg said nothing. 

McKenzie’s voice became quieter. 

“She might not get another chance.” 

Chelsea looked down. 

McKenzie hated herself a little for saying it. 

She said it anyway. 

“Another Little someday? Sure. If Madison really wanted that, I can imagine it. But this? The Japanese placement process? With Dad having already somehow gotten through enough of it to pay fees and submit paperwork?” She shook her head. “That is not easy to replace.” 

Greg looked at her with something like grief. 

“You think we should let it happen?” 

McKenzie’s head snapped back. “No.” 

The answer came too quickly to be strategic. 

Then she hesitated. 

“I don’t know.” 

Greg’s expression tightened. 

McKenzie stepped closer to the habitat and crouched, bringing herself lower again because suddenly towering over him felt wrong. 

“I know what Mom will think,” she said. “And honestly? She’s not wrong. Madison would put Akari above her in some ways. Maybe not because she loves Mom less, but because Akari would be… clean.” 

Greg frowned. 

McKenzie searched for the words. 

“Not clean like better. I mean no history. No fighting. No Mom stuff. No punishments that are secretly old arguments. No doctrine coming back to bite everyone. Madison could just love her.” 

Greg closed his eyes. 

McKenzie’s voice softened. 

“And Madison would be so happy.” 

That was the worst part. 

It entered the room and stayed there. 

McKenzie looked toward Chelsea, then back at Greg. 

“I hate that I’m even saying it, but she would. Dad, she would lose her mind. She would cry. She would probably forgive you for every bad thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.” 

Greg tried to smile. 

It failed. 

McKenzie looked down at the floor between them. 

“That doesn’t mean it should happen,” she said. 

Greg waited. 

“But I need to think before we just cancel it.” 

“Kenz.” 

“I’m not saying yes,” McKenzie said quickly. “I’m saying we need information. Status. Terms. Whether it can even be canceled. Whether there’s a person already assigned. Whether Akari is theoretical or real.” 

Greg’s face tightened at that. 

Chelsea spoke quietly. “That matters.” 

Both Wessens looked at her. 

Chelsea shrugged, more subdued than before. “It does. If there’s already a Little matched, that’s different than an application sitting in some queue. Still complicated either way, but different.” 

McKenzie nodded reluctantly. 

Greg looked from Chelsea to McKenzie. 

“I told your mother we needed you,” he said. 

McKenzie’s expression flickered. 

“You and Mom talked about this?” 

“Yes.” 

“How much?” 

“Enough.” 

McKenzie’s mouth tightened. “And she wants it canceled.” 

“Yes.” 

“Of course she does.” 

“Kenz.” 

“I’m not saying that like she’s wrong,” McKenzie snapped. Then she caught herself and lowered her voice. “I’m saying of course she does because she’s terrified. She should be terrified.” 

Greg did not answer. 

McKenzie looked into the habitat, into the little room she had built for him because she could not undo what had happened to him and could not leave him entirely in Madison’s hands. 

Her voice dropped. 

“And Madison does not get to find out first.” 

Greg’s shoulders eased, just slightly. 

McKenzie stood again. 

“I’ll check,” she said. “Tonight, if I can. I’ll need whatever passwords you remember.” 

“I have them.” 

“Old email?” 

“Yes.” 

“Payment account?” 

Greg nodded. “Maybe.” 

“Japanese portal?” 

“I wrote down what I could remember for your mom. It’s in Madison’s habitat. I can tell you now.” 

McKenzie glanced toward her desk, already reorganizing the evening in her head. 

Chelsea slowly stood from the chair. “Do you want me to go?” 

McKenzie looked at her. 

The automatic answer should have been yes. 

Family. Crisis. Privacy. 

But Chelsea already knew. And Chelsea was calm now, more serious than her jokes suggested she could be. McKenzie suddenly did not want to be alone with the enormity of Madison’s possible dream. 

“No,” McKenzie said. “Stay.” 

Chelsea nodded once. “Okay.” 

Greg looked up at McKenzie. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

McKenzie’s face hardened again, but not with anger this time. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “I’m not promising the answer you want.” 

Greg’s expression changed. 

McKenzie held his gaze. 

“I’m promising I’ll find out what’s real.” 

Greg nodded slowly. 

“That’s all that can be asked now.” 

McKenzie moved toward her laptop. 

Chelsea picked up her drink from the desk and took one silent sip. 

Inside his habitat, Greg stood beside the little table with the littlecino Chelsea had brought him, watching his daughter open the full sized machine he could no longer reach on his own. 

McKenzie typed in her password. 

The room changed. 

The easy afternoon they had planned was gone. 

In its place stood an old application, a hidden payment, a dream named Akari, and the possibility that Madison’s world had been waiting for years to receive one more Little. 

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