Exclusive - "Proving it" - Part 2

Max’s stomach growls. Like a dog, like a puppy. He almost bursts out laughing.

“Come on,” says Jessica. “Mummy’s going to make you pancakes.” She beams at him. “All good boys love pancakes.”

The menu sounds agreeable; the name does not.

“You’re not…” Max begins quietly, awkwardly. Why doesn’t he just say it? What is he afraid of?

Jessica lowers her hands. “Not…?”

Somehow, he can’t say it. Max can’t point out the most obvious thing. That he’s too old, too big, to be this woman’s little boy.

What is he afraid of? Why doesn’t he run?

She must be a foot shorter than him. Slim, slight. Max could easily knock her down if he had to, there’s no question of him being overpowered by the woman.

And yet, in his head, he doesn’t feel six feet tall. In his head, he feels precariously small. Jessica explained all of this last night, didn’t she? Once Max agreed that he should relax, once the tension left his body and his brain, and Jessica made clear how good it feels to let go and be silly, to forget and have fun.

They had a bath after that, or rather, Max did. Splashing with the duckies, Jessica making sure that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on him. She even cleaned his penis, although when he pushed it towards her, begging for more attention, Jessica said it wasn’t time for that.

When? He had whined. I want it now.Like a spoiled child wanting a gift to unwrap.

Jessica had crouched beside the bath and looked into his face. “When Mummy knows that you’re her silly little puppy, that’s when.” She had kissed his damp cheek. “I can tell when it’s time. There’ll be a look in your eyes that tells me you’ve gone back the nursery. That’s when.”

Max swallows at the memory. Full-sized in the bathtub, but mentally he had been putty in Jessica’s hands. And instead of fighting it, instead of making demands or leaving, he had nodded, made promises. To be a good little puppy. To be Mummy’s very good boy.

She had dried him off, led him through out of the bathroom, and in the cool air Max had started to lose the giddiness between his ears, and had wanted to ask Jessica a question that occurred to him fully formed, and then something had happened. Something on his feet…

No, underhis feet. He had stepped on something, something soft, and the question in his head had vanished instantly, replaced by a sleepy confusion, and he had stood perfectly still as Jessica dressed him in the white underwear, and he had let her tuck him into bed and tell him more stories.

About how it was time to dream, so he could wake up empty-headed and sweet for Mummy, so he could make a big splash.

Max’s mouth goes dry. Not the bath-time kind of splash. The other kind. He looks down at the thing between his legs, which is ready to play, nudging eagerly against the cotton underwear.

“Ah,” Jessica says with a knowing look. She points towards Max’s crotch. “I see the problem.”

Max covers himself with his hands, his face reddens.

“You’re distracted,” says Jessica. “You woke up all excited.” She nods. “Did you have a special dream?” She smiles. “Are you ready to make a splash for Mummy?”

“No,” he whispers. And it’s only partly a lie.

“Max,” she says. “It’s going to feel so nice. Why don’t you just let Mummy take care of you.”

He steps back as the woman comes closer. “No,” he says again, and this time it’s louder. He raises his fists. “You’re not…your name’s Jessica. You’ve done something to me.”

She smiles. “My name is Jessica! You’re so clever!” Her smile broadens. “But you’re my silly little boy, and you call me Mummy.”

She’s crazy. She’s lost the plot. Max looks her up and down – the strawberry-blonde hair, the blue eyes and freckles. She hardly looks like a maniac, no one would imagine she was a kidnapper. And it’s not as though he’s chained up in a dank, dark basement.

What has she done to him? Max stares at the rainbow-striped sweater that reminds Max that he’s forgetting something critical, that he doesn’t really stand a chance.

“Come on, sweet boy,” she says, stepping closer. “Let Mummy help you remember how to be good. You were so good last night at bath-time, you almost made a splashy right then.” She signals a teasing disapproval with a wave of her finger. “But that’s against the rules, isn’t it. You had to wait until morning, so we know you’re all happy, like a cute, silly puppy.”

She takes another step closer and Max backs into the bedframe, blushing at his clumsiness.

“Oopsy,” Jessica says. “Did you hurt yourself, Maxie? Do you make a boo-boo?”

He shakes his head and repeats the charge. “You did something.”

Jessica shrugs. “Well, I washed you. I made you all clean.” She frowns. “You seemed to like that a lot. And I gave you your special undies.” She gives another shrug. “You seem to like those a lot as well.” She points at the puzzle on the floor, the precious area that separates them. “You wanted to finish the puzzle last night, but you were so tired. I promised you could finish it in the morning.” She smiles. “Which is now!”

Max gives a brisk shake to his head. “I don’t want the puzzle, it’s for babies.” He cringes at the whiny tone in his voice.

Jessica doesn’t seem to notice. “Oh, babies can’t do jigsaw puzzles, Max.” She giggles. “They’d just end up putting the pieces in their mouth!”

Max feels his lips turn upward into a smile. It’s a funny idea, a baby trying to do a puzzle. It’s so silly. He keeps smiling, and he thinks that if Jessica steps over the puzzle, if she puts her arms around him, he’ll acquiesce.

If she touches him between his legs, he’ll let her do anything.

She doesn’t step closer. Instead, she sits down by the puzzle and frowns at the pieces. “It’s nearly done,” she says. “But I’m not sure…” She holds up one of the stray pieces. “Where’s that go, do you think?”

“It’s a tongue,” Max blurts, as if it matters, as if he should be proud of knowing.

Jessica laughs. “So it is!” She looks up long enough to wink at Max. “It takes a puppy to know a puppy’s tongue, I suppose.” She turns her attention back to other pieces and says, “So do you want to finish the puzzle now, or do you want to have brekkie?” Still holding the pink piece, she makes a so-so gesture with her hand. “It’s up to you, Max. You can choose.”

Max takes a deep breath. He feels better, standing tall while the woman sits cross-legged on the floor. He’s bigger than her. He can take control.

“I don’t want the puzzle. I don’t want brekkie…breakfast. I want to go.”

Jessica frowns. “Go where?”

Max whines. “Away.”

“Ah yes,” Jessica replies. “You want to be a grown-up.” She says the phrase as if it’s old, hackneyed, worn-out. “You don’t need a mummy.” She looks up at him with a jaded expression. “Is that what you’re saying?”

He nods, folding his arms across his chest.

“You don’t want to be my silly puppy,” says Jessica sadly. “You don’t want to wag your tail.” She sighs. “Don’t have a wet nose for sniffing around? Don’t want to show it off for Mummy?”

Max nods again, emphatically, but what is he really agreeing with. His penis hardens, his mouth is dry, and he can hear a whooshing sound between his ears. As if Jessica has found the magic words to distract him.

Surely now, she will reach up for him. She will touch and pat him; a silky stroke and he will be helpless.

No. The woman shrugs. She puts the pink tongue together with the other found pieces, and the picture now boasts the cheekiest of puppies. “Should’ve said that from the start,” she says mildly, as if this is nothing more than a simple misunderstanding.

She gets to her feet, shrugs, and then says, “You can leave any time you like. It’s all about the test, remember?” She smiles. “I told you all about it last night.”