My Little Pet 6 (Chapter 6)

“I know it wasn’t just me, either…” Tessa continued after resting for a moment. “…because I saw her sometimes with her friends or boyfriends, all the same size as her, and she treated all of them just the same as me, with that horrible cutesy baby voice and pretending like she was their mother. She even tried controlling them the same way, spitting and putting her hands on them and sticking her bare feet in their laps to be rubbed. Only with me… well, I couldn’t run away, so she could do it as long as she wanted, until I… I…”

            “Yes?”

            “…until I had to try and believe it, as best I could. I had to try and make myself actually believe that Sarah was my Mommy,” Tessa relented. She clutched her heart, which was pounding faster than ever, and tried to calm down, but couldn’t. The longer she talked about these memories, the realer they became, until she could feel some of the same tortured reactions haunting her mind and body. Fresh tears welled in Tessa’s eyes. She couldn’t even see the therapist through the saltwater. “It was the only way I could make it. I… had to forget about my husband and my own child, and forget that I’m an intelligent, grown woman with my own life. It hurt too much to think about those parts of my old self, knowing I might never escape from Sarah ever again, so instead of denying what was happening, I had to embrace it, and go along with this stupid selfish giant’s crazy fantasy wishes. Sometimes I couldn’t do it, and I’d just start crying while she kissed and held me, but I had to keep trying. I just… had to become Sarah’s. Become… my Mommy’s. If I didn’t, I would’ve gone completely insane.”

            Pausing for air, Tessa bowed her head before she went on, and when she looked up again, her eyes were glazed over, not just from crying, but something evolving at her core. She looked like she’d snapped.

            “My… Mommy takes care of me,” Tessa said as though in a hypnotized stupor. “She loves me. She protects me, just like a good Mommy is supposed to. She… feeds me everything I need to grow big and strong, and everything’s so delicious and soft coming from her mouth, mixed in with her yummy tongue-water, because she knows I’m not strong enough to chew it on my own. No, no. My Mommy wants me to have everything I need. Whenever I’m bad, she punishes me, too, but she doesn’t really want to. It makes her sad. She just has to teach me a lesson, because I’m not old enough to understand things yet, and I don’t have to. I just have to listen to my Mommy and do as she says, because it’s the best thing for me. Like when she puts me down under her feet, it’s only so I can feel safe with the smells I know, and remember that I have someone so much bigger and stronger and smarter and more beautiful than me taking care of everything, protecting me, making me hers. That’s… why all this happened to me. So I could find my true place… my real home… with my Mommy. In her hands, in her lips, in her shoes… close to her, where she wants me, where I belong.”

            Tessa had talked for so long without stopping that her voice went hoarse, though her words were infused with affection and even obsession. Her unblinking eyes still poured with tears, but not entirely from distress now, but at least partially of yearning. As though awoken from a trance, the patient blinked, and jolted in her chair. She shook her head, too ashamed now to look the therapist in the eye, but managed to choke out the rest of the story:

            “I miss it sometimes,” Tessa murmured. “That smell of hers that I… had for so long. It was part of my world with my Mommy… I mean Sarah. Whenever I was stuffed in her socks or sleeping in her sweaty shoes or just having my face pinched between those fat squishy giant toes of hers. I know, it must seem impossible, like my brain is broken, but…  after I got over the nausea, and stopped thinking about all the dirt and toejam and skin oil she was making me breathe, it… attached itself to me. Her stench. Her atmosphere. I think about it all the time now. I even find myself… wishing I could smell it again. Maybe not in the same way, where I couldn’t do anything to stop her from pinning me under her feet, but… it’s still the truth. If she was here, now, a normal-sized person, and asked me to get down on the ground… fuck, I can’t believe this… I’d do it. I’d kneel in front of her, pick up her foot, and stick my nose between her filthy, soggy toes like some lunatic. Oh, God, oh, God. And the sick part is, that’s not even what I want most of all.”

            “Don’t be afraid, Tessa,” the therapist said kindly. “We’re here to help you face those thoughts, no matter how frightening they seem. Please. What is it that you want most of all?”

            “I… want her to do what she’d do whenever she decided it was time for Mommy to make her little girl feel good,” Tessa said. “For her, it was a way to show me how much she loved me, and how good things could be when I obeyed her. The first time she… put her finger over my pussy, and started rubbing, I felt like I was being attacked by a wild animal. It stung, and got sore after a while, but she loved it so much that she couldn’t see I hated it. But then… she kept doing it, again and again, almost every day. I don’t think she got better at doing it, but still, time went by, and… I missed feeling intimacy with my husband. I missed sex. The love and comfort and especially the high of a really good orgasm, and when I was in that terrible place with Mommy… I mean Sarah… somehow I learned to want it. Then I started craving it. I… still crave it now. Whenever I don’t wake up from nightmares about being in Sarah’s shoes, I wake up instead feeling horny and pent-up, like an itch I can’t scratch. I’ve had sex with my husband since I came back, but… the truth is… when we’re doing it, I’m thinking about Sarah instead. I’m thinking about her big idiotic face smiling at me, those swollen pink lips flapping and talking to me the whole time, and those stubby fingers rubbing my crotch until I give in.”

            Tessa trembled, rocking back and forth in her chair, as continual tears soaked the front of her shirt. She looked like she was on the verge of permanently cracking.

            “That’s… what I want most of all,” Tessa wept. “That’s how I know nothing will ever be the same. No matter how tall I am, no matter where I go to escape the memory of my Mommy, the things I learned to want… the taste of her revolting spit, the smell of her big fat feet, and the feeling of her fingers playing with me like her personal sex ed doll… stayed with me, like a sickness. She broke me. She owns me, just like she always swore she would. And now I know, no matter how much I try to lie to myself… that at least a part of me, deep down, just wants my Mommy back.”