Chapter 49 – Lord, listen, lover, we are all missing momma

June 19th, 2023, Council Bluffs, Iowa, Earth

She had dyed her hair, but the hairdresser had overdone it, giving it a deeper red color that Oliver had not seen in decades. It was a strange contrast from when he had last seen her. The kitchen table they met at was cluttered with papers and books, but the woman’s focus had been on a heavy white catalogue. Adorned with just two letters, V-I, it had an air of sophistication no modern magazine could match. It was bound like a thin phone book, but with glossy heavy paper.

“A former Alphabet employee’s been running a small start-up out of his garage. Brother-in-law and he are looking to expand and need an angel. I told him I’d take a look.” The elderly woman spoke before tossing the catalog into the pile. “Bit boutique, but I might give them a buck or two. I have a couple people in mind who would be perfect for their services, like Ms. Milgrom at the country club.”

Coming home was strange, because it was not the same kitchen he grew up in, though the same furniture and decorations, the same mother and same habits of filling the room with clutter and knickknacks.

“I thought you were retired. I’m glad you’re still in the game. What did they call you, the Delphi of Des Moines.”

“The Cassandra of Council Bluffs. What brings you home, Oliver? Shouldn’t you be working?” Her face was only lightly concerned at the surprise drop in. She was glad to see him again, regardless if the circumstances were convenient for either of them.

“A spot opened up in my schedule,” Oliver wiggled in the seat. Lying to his mother was difficult. It was not like lying to Ben or Victoria, that came to him as easily as breathing. At least she had not noticed he was wearing a bit of protection on this trip, or perhaps was being nice enough to just not mention it.

She would not let it go, “What’s wrong?”

He looked away staring at the book, before coming up with a diversion, “I was wondering, if you could have locked me in at any age, what would you choose? Six? Twelve?” He paused before whispering, “Two?”

His mother thumped the book, “Oliver, raising children is an investment. They provide great returns at all ages, but you’re locked in for the long term. Yes, there were good moments and bad moments in each stage, but the reward of pregnancy was you. The moment you popped out and into my arms, it was all worth it. The reward of all those sleepless first nights was the first words out of your mouth – ‘mah-mah’. We put all this energy into you as a baby so we could get you as a toddler. Then everything into the toddler so we could meet you as a small kid, then a big kid, then a teen, and finally an adult who will hopefully give me plenty of grandchildren.”

Oliver nodded, feeling guilty, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’m working something, but it might…”

She stopped him, “Telemachus explained it all to me. I think I understand.”

That left the boy speechless, blinking in confusion. He had invited his alternate timeline son to stay with his mother, he just had not expected him to do it. Oliver’s skin tightened, unsure of what he would say. “Is he still here?”

“Oh, he’ll be back, but I think he wanted to do some traveling while he was on Earth. You raised a good boy. I would like to still meet the real one someday, watch you go through all the same pains your father and I had.”

With that Oliver had built up the courage to describe what brought him across ten thousand dimensions, “Mom, there’s a problem, it’s kind of work related, but kind of girl related. There’s this woman and she, I don’t think she likes me, she likes the idea of me. Like, she wants to take away everything I like about myself and just leave the stuff she likes about me. I can’t really get away from her either, because my job kind of put me in her path.”

She kept perfectly still, though paused long enough to find a polite answer, “I’m not sure how I can help there, Oliver. If you needed money that’s one thing, but interdimensional love triangles aren’t my expertise.”

Oliver fiddled with his fingers, thrumming them anxiously against the table. “If you had to do it again…”

“Hmm?” She was not going to let him evade the problem.

“There is something I could use, it’s kind of a big ask, do you mind coming with me to I.E.D.R?”

“California? Oh good, I was looking for an opportunity to meet my latest business partners.”

* * *

22 Prairial Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Oliver was beginning to regret not setting off the booby trap Victoria had laid for him on the bookshelf. He thought his solution was clever, snatching the textbook and replacing it with another of equivalent weight. He practically hurled himself downward, falling down the shelf like he was racing a boulder coming down above him. Climbing up had been slow, each step along the wooden bookshelf was carefully placed on textbooks and shelves. Moving down brough extra danger, with Oliver’s tiny fingers clutching the furniture with heavy book carried under his arm as he raced to the bottom.

Once he was a couple yards from the floor, Oliver dropped last few feet onto thick white carpet, absorbing the fall with his knees, and then ran without losing a single breath straight to the couch. With the heavy book laid across his lap, he slowly started unraveling the mysteries of the Amazons. Twenty minutes passed, and Victoria still had not interrupted him. He found himself slowly flipping through the textbook, staring at images of distressed littles. Sterile descriptions of experiments accompanied novel abuses of dream manipulation, forced hallucinations, and false memories. So enraptured was he by the forbidden book, he barely noticed the thumping along the floor.

“Oliver Holmes Montgomery-Young!” All four names, he was certainly in for heavy punishment. Oliver tensed up on his shoulders, and then slowly closed the heavy book.

He built as bright a smile as he could, and innocently replied, “I’m supposed to read a hundred pages a day. I figured I’d start with something easy.”

Coming down from twice his height, her voice shifted deeper, “You have no idea what trouble you’re in. I’d say wait until your dad comes home, but that sass talk tells me you need something more immediate.”

Oliver tensed for focusing his breathing shorter, after the smallest of swallows he flatly replied to her threat. “I understand you’re upset about me touching your things, but we can resolve this like adults, through discussion, mutual understanding, and cooperation.”

“No. I just told you no sass, and you continue to double up on the back talk? Keep going along this line, Oliver. I’m warning you.” Victoria’s size shifted her voice deeper as her frustration grew with the smaller man.

Oliver stared her down, he applied force to his voice. He spoke with an authority that shadowed over her attempt to be bigger and scarier. “You know what your problem is Victoria? It’s that you want a kid, but you don’t want the responsibility that comes from it. You don’t want to do the hard work that’s required to earn it. You want to stand on the shoulders of giants – my real parents – and claim all their success for your own. My achievements are from their upbringing, not yours. What do you plan to do that will be as impactful for my life as everything they gave me?”

Victoria could not keep her cool, “I’m going to impact your butt in about three seconds. Damn your dad’s rules! You need a spanking, and he’ll understand this is necessary. Then afterwards we’re going to wash out that mouth.”

Oliver watched as she stormed off, concerned the ruse might not work, but she returned quickly, with a heavy wooden stirring spoon, slapping it repeatedly into her palm to warm it up. It was made from heavy oak and was only used for the thickest soups and chilies. Her slapping pace built up as she approached him, creating an echoing clap as she returned to the boy on the couch. He was unphased by her approach.

She could have used her hands but she wanted to objectify the terror. A spoon was something she could reference in the future and would help her keep him under control. In the years to come, the pain of this day would be as easy to resurface with just a word.

Giant arms reached down and flicked Oliver over on the couch, then ripped his shorts down to his pull-ups. Up came the wooden spoon and down came the thrack against skin.

The feeling was electric, lightning coursing through the wood and into her arm. At first it was pleasurable but quickly turned into a burning ache. She tried to drop the wooden rod, but the entire right part of her body became paralyzed. As she fell over, she noticed Oliver’s naughty smirk return.

“I think that hurt you more than it hurt me,” Oliver shuffled off the couch.

June 19th, 2023, Templeton, California – Earth

“It is Victoria right? Not Vickie or Ria or Viv?” The toddler asked her. She was dressed in a heavy dark blue business suit, it looked both impractical in terms of access, and too serious of an outfit for someone who could not eat without spilling.

Victoria struggled against the restrains of the chair. She was not going anywhere. The room reminded her slightly back at the university, a special room they would use to break littles. “You don’t’ want to go to the chair, do you? You remember the chair?” Outside of an observation mirror, the room she found herself in was sparse of any other furniture and the lights were overly bright.

She tried shouting, “What’s going on? Let me out of here! Oliver! Ben!”

“We can’t let you go, not until we fix what’s wrong with you,” the woman responded.

Behind her a door flipped open, and in came Oliver, dressed better than he had even at the wedding. His pants had a button and belt, and the tie was not a clip-on. His shoes gave a soft squeak as he walked, and he held himself tall.

“Hello mother,” Oliver said with a vile spite. For the first time she saw him, not a baby, but a weary, old man. Her baby boy was gone.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” Victoria felt an urge to apologize, but as her groggy head started to clear, she was not sure sorry was appropriate. Oliver may have all the power here, but that just meant she needed to stay tall. He had talked back to her, tried to treat her like they were equals. It was clear now they were not.

“I’m starting to put things together. Your textbook makes that clear. How to give littles nightmares and how to give them false memories. Ever since I’ve been with you something has been off, and now I know you’ve been trying to break me, and how you’re doing it.” Oliver sadly looked down at his feet, not able to address her head on, “I figure fair is fair.”

“I would never do that to my baby,” Victoria protested, and yet it was by her machinations that Oliver had been turned into a pacifier sucking, diaper wearing dork. It just was not enough for her.

Oliver raised a finger, as though lecturing a student, “That’s the rub of it. I’m not your real baby.” He gave a pause before continuing, “It doesn’t have to be this way. You want to be my mother, right? More than anything?”

Victoria was hesitant, beware the tricks of little ones, but her honest desires melted through, “Yes. I’d love you more than anything, please. Just let’s go home, we can start over.”

Oliver turned to Naomi and wordlessly nodded, and the woman turned to leave the room. Oliver turned to follow stopping just at the door.

“OK then ‘Mommy’,” He was too far away for Victoria to see his cruel smile build on his face. She only heard his last words as he flipped the room’s lights off, closing the door behind.

“I’m going to warn you. This one goes to eleven.”

30 Germinal Year CCXXVII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“I am going to kill you Ben,” Victoria shouted, thrashing against the bed. The feelings coming from her body were revolutionary, and while it had been Oliver who had warned her this was coming, somehow she knew it was mostly Ben’s fault. Oliver was Ben’s kid. She struggled to get up, but a group of men and women in white garments hurried with urgency to her bed, and easily kept her propped up in place.

“You’re doing great honey just breathe, like you practiced.” Ben was hopeful, almost excited, but also indifferent to his wife’s pain, but he was kept graciously outside the circle.

“Contractions are at two minutes,” Victoria heard to a side. She had the sense of mind to glance downward, her whole bottom half was splayed open, and her top was covered with a loose fitting garment, barely more than a thin cloth hastily tied to her. She felt something moving in her, a strange foreigner struggling to push out.

She panicked, “Get it out, get it out. Please just cut it out.”

A giant among giants was standing over her, she felt his heavy hand on her shoulder, and his deep voice came through his masked mouth, “No, no you’re doing great. Big breath and then another push.”

Expelling the foreigner was painful, squishing a new human out of a small hole in her body. Everything was a blur of pain and exhaustion, and just as she felt a modicum of relief, there was a cry. An eternity or a few seconds later, a thimble of human was gracefully placed into her arms. His body wrapped except for a bald head and made tiny breathing movements as she cradled him in one hand.

All those months, the pain of labor, all to hold her perfect baby in this one moment. Her Oliver.

* * *

22 Floréal Year CCXXVII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“Is it your turn?” Ben asked in the darkened bedroom. The sound of crying came from the beaming red light of the monitor.

It was his turn, but neither had gotten a single full night of sleep in weeks. With a heavy body, she maneuvered to Oliver’s crib and lifted the loud monster to her chest. He was hungry and he needed a change, but after a month meeting the boy’s needs were becoming second nature, which was necessary as she struggled behind heavy eyes and slow movements. Within a few minutes Oliver was changed and fed, giving a content sigh as she placed him back in the crib.

She took a moment to appreciate him, watching his small chest go up and down, and just as she was about to turn away, he made a cooing sound, and smiled. She smiled back, and that smile was everything he wanted. With a tiny hand he waved at her and slipped off into sleep.

* * *

28 Prairial Year CCXXVII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“What is wrong with Oliver? He’s two months old and he barely babbles, and forget walking, he can barely lift his own head up,” Ben asked Doctor Mugkran. The new parents kept Oliver bundled and close, the small boy slept against Victoria’s shoulder.

“Oliver is a bit … short …” The doctor struggled with how to explain exactly what was wrong with the boy. He looked down at his notes and then flipped up a few pictures. “He appears to have an underdeveloped pituitary gland, among other features in the brain that are developmentally delayed or missing. Where most children will continue to grow after early childhood until puberty, I suspect Oliver’s going to be topping out in just a couple of years.”

“How short are we talking,” Victoria asked, in her mind she knew it was her fault. She had the bad genes, not Ben, and she gave this sickness to her only son. It was her body that refused to carry him to full development. This was her fault.

The doctor scrunched his face, as though doing some calculation, “Hmm, maybe six feet? Seven? Who knows. I do think the milk is helping with brain development. Given he was born about six months premature, he’s showing strong progress in behavior and mental milestones.”

Victoria wanted to cry, and she tilted her head over. The action stirred Oliver awake. He wanted only one thing. Tiny grasping hands reached up and began to play with her hair. He wanted the flowery soft thing in his mouth and pulled with all his might at the strands. Today, would be the first of many days he would learn a new way to hurt her.

* * *

18 Brumaire Year CCXXVIII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“Come on baby, you can do it. You can do it Oliver. Come over here to mommy.” Victoria slapped the ground with the fluffy giraffe, waiting for Oliver to respond. The boy was curious for a second, pushing out his legs and coming upright on his knees. His hair had come in, soft brown with some blonde edges. With wobbling arms, he pushed himself straight up into a full stance.

He wobbled there, one foot forward then back, and then fell again on his posterior. He stared at his mother uncertain of his course of action, if he should cry and have her come and pick him up. She wiggled the giraffe again, only for Oliver to turn his body and start crawling towards the front door, his diaper waving at her as he crawled.

Annoyed, she stood up and followed him, her feet shuffling inch by inch to keep up with the slower man. She met him at the window, and he pecked at the glass with tiny hands. Smudges of dirt and oil built on the glass, and she glanced out under the curtain to see what had drawn his attention.

Victoria addressed Oliver, “Your dad’s finally home. Maybe we can see what he wants to make for dinner.”

“Dahh… dah.” His mouth growing wide, as though proud of what he said.

His first word! His first word and it is… oh. Victoria’s face scrunched up. Of course, his first word would be for daddy.

* * *

1 Floréal Year CCXXIX, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“I don’t want to go to school,” Oliver whined, his whole body struggled to hold up the small backpack that had been placed on him, and he wiggled against the clothes his mother had put him in, a button white shirt and long blue shorts. She would have given him a jacket, but it was a bit much for the hot spring air.

“Oliver, you’re going to meet so many friends. I thought you were excited to go,” Victoria brought herself down to her knees as she addressed him, hovering over the small child.

“I don’t want to be away from you,” his eyes were starting to glow. One false step and he would explode.

“You’ll be good for Ms. Bee today, right? I’ll be back in six hours to pick you up.” Her arms came around to pull her son into her chest briefly, and then after a pat on his back, she started pushing away. Her arm slinking down to Oliver’s hand as she began to slowly drag him to the daycare matron.

The woman’s long boney hand reached out towards him, “I’m so excited to meet you, Oliver. Are you ready for your first day at Hilltop?” Oliver flinched, but Victoria forcibly moved Oliver’s hand into the teacher’s. The child lost his voice and limply let himself be pulled into the classroom. The teacher let the door fall closed behind her, and Victoria backed away, staring at the heavy wooden door with its bright and inviting decorations and signage.

It was less than three seconds before she heard her boy crying. Every part of her wanted to go to him, but instead she slowly turned and moved away from the classroom, letting the high-pitched whine fall away.

“The first day is the hardest,” Victoria turned to the woman sitting at the front desk of the school. Her dark hair was overly short, and she barely turned her attention from some paperwork at the desk when addressing Victoria.

“I just hope I’m doing the right thing. Oliver’s not like the other children here,” Victoria replied, her answer barely addressing the other woman as much as it was to her own guilt.

She shook her head, “Oh, he’ll be perfect. The other littles, they don’t remember what it was like being his age, they need someone to learn from, to set the example.”

The idea that Oliver might be a leader, someone others might even look up to, was never a possibility she considered. Daycare was just going to be a holding pen for the boy while she and Ben were at work. But maybe the experience would help him grow, mentally if not physically. Maybe he would be ready for school in a few years.

Her heart had another pang. One day she would drop Oliver off for school, and he would not be coming home. Today was the first of many practice runs for that distant day when he would finally leave home forever.

* * *

10 Prairial Year CCXXX, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“What happened?” Victoria looked down at her baby. His arms had stripes of red, with the skin torn and roughed along his tiny arms. His red and yellow striped shirt was covered with a mix of brown mud and dried blood.

“I was…” His eyes became water glass, and he let out a whine, “I fell…,” huge breath, “off…”

With that he was up in the air, all she could hear was his crying, and he was buried in her shoulder and hair. She carried his wailing body up to her bedroom and carefully laid his body onto her massive mattress. His sniffling tired body barely fell into the blankets.

“Just rest right here, let me get something to clean you up.” She was away from his side for only a moment, just long enough to wet a washcloth, and Oliver’s favorite stuffy. She placed the black and white fish to his side, and picked up his damaged right arm, slowly cleaning the arm with gentle brushes. Oliver winced at each small press.

“What happened?” Her voice was turning serious, some discipline would be warranted, but she needed to walk a fine line.

“I was going down the hill on my bike, and I fell.” Oliver’s eyes grew wide, and he pushed up, but she pushed him back down. “My bike!”

“It’s OK Oliver, we’ll get your bike later, just rest.” There would be time to be mad at him about the bike later. For now, her baby needed her unlimited attention. She lowered down to his head, brushing aside his ruffled hair, and kissing his forehead.

* * *

21 Floréal Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“Here comes Farmer Peter, to investigate his crops.” Mrs. B. announced to the dark auditorium. The eyes of dozens of parents were on the well-lit stage, as from the left side a small child slowly walked into the center. He was burdened with heavy clothes, a heavy gray jacket that was several sizes too big, and oversized pants that needed bright red straps to hang from the boy’s shoulders. The boy paused briefly upon entering, glancing out into the dark audience and briefly meeting Victoria’s eyes, before smiling and continuing on to his position center stage.

Oliver began his line, “I think I see some little … rabbits, that have been getting into my… carrots.”

She was so enraptured by his performance she did not notice Ben leaning in and whisper into her ear.

“I got the sabbatical I asked for.”

She turned to address him but was not sure what to say. Ben continued his thought.

“Since I’m going to be working from home, I’m thinking we should home school Oliver.”

She turned back to the performance, watching Oliver move along the stage, before turning back to Ben, “Hilltop has been good for him.”

“I know, but he’s still growing up, and maybe if I work with him, I can get him caught up.”

“It looks like there are three,” Oliver stretched the number holding up his fingers, “rabbits in my field.”

She nodded, watching Oliver chase after the littles who had been put into full rabbit suits.

Her baby was growing up. Oliver was never going to fit in with the regular school kids, but he also was ready to move past the daycare. Part of her wanted Oliver to stay her little baby forever, but he was ready for the next step.

Ben did not hear her reply, instead, he and the rest of the parents stood up in an ovation. Victoria pushed herself out of the seat, and her eyes lingered on Oliver and the other rabbits came back to the stage to perform one last bow.

22 Prairial Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Her eyes opened slowly with her attention drawn to the heavy body resting against her side. Oliver had fallen asleep, gently resting against her side, his tiny legs in a tight ball. Tiny breaths barely pushed against his soother, and his eyes were closed behind his new glasses. The two of them had been on the couch, and based on the book in her left hand, she had been reading to him before he fell into his afternoon nap.

Victoria knew she should be angry with him, but the reason was elusive, like a dream she had woken up from. A wooden spoon, a broken bike, pulling at her hair, and the pain of giving birth to him. He was constantly challenging her, and every time she had stepped up to find a deeper reserve of love.

“Mommy?” The tone, slightly scratchy and soft, was enough to dissipate any negative feelings towards her boy. She reached over and helped Oliver sit up while pulling him closer.

“I liked the book,” Oliver started, it drew her eyes to what she had been reading him. “Applied Regression Analysis”. She was confused; this was not appropriate reading for a small child.

“Are you still upset?” Oliver asked, which brought her back to the present. Of course she should be upset, but at what she was not sure.

She decided to just ask him, “Why would I be upset with you Oliver?”

Oliver glanced down at his socks, pulling slightly at his shorts and shirt as he answered, “Because the doctor said I’m not going to grow up anymore.”

“Oh honey, you’ll keep growing up, you’re just not going to get any taller.” She corrected him, “Why do you think I’d be upset you’re going to stay a baby boy.”

“Because you and dad want me to be bigger, and being bigger is hard. Sometimes I like being little.” Oliver finally explained.

Her arm came down and rubbed against his far shoulder, she came in for a kiss against his soft hair, “I’m happy with you however you end up Oliver. You can be as little as you want around me.”

“Really?” Oliver glanced up, meeting her eyes.

She nodded, “What are some little things you like to do?”

“Um… I like riding my bike. And playing with toys. And being read to before naps and um…” he looked down at his soother in his lap and hands, as though counting on his fingers, “I like when we do milkies.”

Her heart softened, “Oliver, I do want you to grow up, but I promise, as long as I’m here you can be as little as you want around me. You can be my baby boy forever. I don’t care if you’re a hundred, if you want to have milkies or me to read to you, I’m going to do that.”

He stood up and came in for another hug, “Thank you mommy.”

“But we still want you to try to be a big boy. Hmm, does my big boy need to go potty?”

Victoria did not wait for him to answer, she carried her baby Oliver to the toilet, and a few minutes later, she walked over to Oliver’s door to put another smiley face on his chart.

* * *

1 Vendémiaire Year CCXXXII, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“How is this procedure different than standard hypnosis?” Janet asked, the doctoral student was new to the department; but was eager to learn under Victoria’s expertise. The younger lady had spent the summer reading a considerable amount of literature on child psychology and came back to school to add her own contribution to the dismal science.

Victoria waved a finger over at the young man strapped into a chair behind the one-way glass mirror. His head was adorned with ugly white goggles that spread out several inches from his head and covered from the forehead to the nose. Thick wires went from neighboring machines into the goggles as well as smaller ones coming from his arms, head, and chest, routing sensory data back to the machine.

“All littles want to believe they are in control,” Victoria started. That much she had learned from Oliver. It had taken a few months to untangle her mind enough to see her perfect baby boy had done something to her. Earthlings were an advanced people, but once again they had slipped up. By exposing the Amazons to their technology, it gave her an opportunity to study it. Thanks to Oliver, she had been inspired on this new path to better turn adults into babies.

“As long as the little believes it was his own plan, his idea, he will happily surrender to anything. We have constructed a scenario for Daron. He will come out of this believing it was his idea to hypnotize Ms. Goldin. That he programmed her with false memories, and that he put hidden commands into her computer, and soon she will be his perfect mommy.”

Janet tried to counter, “No one wants that. To a little, the perfect mommy would let him play video games all day, cook him his favorite meals, and buy him new toys whenever he wanted. We’re not their slaves.”

Victoria did not agree, “No one’s mother is that generous. Not even Daron wants a pushover. What he wants is a mommy who will love him unconditionally. He wants his mommy, not a mommy.”

“I love my son unconditionally,” Janet protested. She and Victoria had been mothers for about the same time, and yet somehow Victoria still found a way to talk down to the other woman.

“It’s not the same, because you didn’t earn it. You didn’t grow him in your womb, you didn’t suffer the pain of giving birth to him. How can he ever know you love him unconditionally, if you have never been tested in all the ways your own baby can hurt you?”

Janet touched the glass that separated the little from the giants. Deep in her stomach the empty longing returned. The adoption had quelched it, but the embers were still there, and now she understood how shallow her own relationship with her new son was. She tried changing subject, “Have you ever considered trying to have a real one?”

Victoria bobbed her head, then returned an answer, “I don’t normally have students work under me, but there’s a reason why I asked for you to come on as an assistant. You see Janet, I’m…”