My Little Pet 6 (Chapter 5) (Patreon)

                       Tessa sat with her legs curled up to her body on the therapist’s leather chair. A pile of tear-soaked tissues were scattered at her feet. Across the intimate room, the professional scribbled notes softly on a pad, but rarely let her eyes leave the clearly-fragile patient. After a moment, Tessa took a deep and halting breath, wiped her eyes again, and prepared to speak.

            She’d been told that the healing couldn’t fully begin until she’d gotten it all out. Today was the day to purge her soul of the past.

            “I don’t know what to think anymore,” Tessa croaked. “You know, you go through your life thinking in the back of your mind that it’s at least possible somebody could grab you, kidnap you… do terrible things to you. But I just never imagined it could have happened this way. That it could happen with… somebody like her. A woman, a college student, barely old enough to be an adult, and still a young girl at heart… and in most other ways, too.”

            She fidgeted in her chair, trying not to let herself feel constrained by the shape of the thick cushions, as they reminded her a little of Sarah’s gargantuan fingers wrapping around her body.

            “And the things she did to me, well… she didn’t just try to hurt me. I mean, she did hurt me, but it was so much more than that. In fact, she didn’t even know she was hurting me. That was what came the closest to driving me to madness… that she didn’t even know how much I HATED it! I couldn’t make her understand,” Tessa continued. She pounded her fists on the chair’s puffy supports. “No matter how much I screamed it, over and over and over again, in every way I knew how, she still only heard what she wanted to hear… me, telling her that I loved her, and that she… s-she was my… my…”

            At this point, Tessa had to pause for a drink of water. The therapist politely cleared her throat.

            “What did she say you she was to you, Tessa?” the woman questioned.

            “That she was my MOMMY! My… my mother, I mean. But she only ever called herself “Mommy,” and just saying the word made her so over-the-moon happy that it made me sick!” Tessa blurted. “She did everything you might think that goes along with telling someone you’re their mommy and they’re your baby girl, whether they like it or not. Not just calling herself Mommy, but repeating it constantly in this fucking annoying goo-goo ga-ga baby-talk. Like how you’d talk to a real baby to imprint them with your voice! Whether she was happy or angry with me, it was always that voice, complimenting me or threatening me, like I was too stupid to understand anything except slow goofy sounds. I know, it must sound ridiculous that something like that could almost drive a person out of their mind, but… when you’re in her hands, or… other places, and she keeps on calling herself Mommy over and over to drill it into your head that she is your Mommy, and all you can think about is how much more powerful she is than you, and how weak you are and how much you depend on her now to survive, it… starts to become real, no matter how hard you fight!”

            Tessa took a deep breath, realizing she’d been speaking at a rapid pace without pausing. Her face turned red.

            “It sounds like this Sarah’s fixation on calling herself Mommy was at the root of this relationship she forced upon you,” the therapist delicately hypothesized. “Does that sound right to you, Tessa?”

            “Yes,” she sighed. “That’s exactly it. Everything she did to me after she captured me, she… justified it with the idea of this Mommy-fantasy,” Tessa explained. “Everything. Every horrible game, every terrifying punishment, every act of love, even, she did it with a smile on her face while telling me she had to do it because she was my Mommy. So many sloppy wet kisses that made me want to gag. She was so smug about it, too, like she was completely safe in the idea that she deserved to do these things to me, just because she’d decided I was a baby to her! And nothing would ever make her understand that anything mattered but what she wanted. God…”

            “And what were those things she did to you?” the therapist asked. “If you can say.”

            Tessa nodded, knowing she’d have to share this information sooner or later. She swallowed hard, reminded of the last time she’d had to gulp down a half-gallon of repulsive, gooey substances in order to keep from deathly dehydration.

            “I never got to drink water the entire time she had me,” Tessa admitted. “Just… everything she spit up for me. I would know it was coming sometimes, because I’d see her drinking extra water, or just hear her swishing it around in her cheeks to get it ready for me. Then I’d sit in her hand, and watch while she drooled out enough for me to stay alive, all stringy and thick and it made me want to vomit every time I watched it dropping out of her lips, but still, I’d… get so thirsty, I’d drink it anyway, which made her think I liked it even more!”

            The therapist made several notes.

            “But that wasn’t all. Not by a long shot,” Tessa added. Her gaze shifted into her lap. For a moment she reflected on her violated womanhood just below the fabric, but couldn’t bring herself to talk about it yet. Instead, her gaze drifted to her worn-down sneakers. “Her… feet. She had a real attachment to them, and keeping me near them. Somehow she got it into her head that I liked being around and under those filthy things, and like everything else, once Sarah decided something, nothing could ever convince her otherwise. So, I was pressed up against them… her bare, sweaty, awful, disgusting feet… more often than I can count. Usually after she’d worked out, too, so they were still damp and smelled like rot and cheese and hell. I can’t look at anyone’s feet now without thinking of what it would be like to have them shoved up my face, but still, nothing could ever be as strong as a foot the size of a goddamned car crushing me underneath. Sometimes she’d just rub me around on them, trying to make me love the smell and taste, and sometimes she’d just throw me in her shoes and wear me around in them. She would wear me around… she’d wear a human being… around in her shoe like an ornament! It was one of the most degrading things I’ve ever experienced, and I… God, I still dream about it so often. I wake up in a sweat in the dark and think I’m still trapped inside Sarah’s shoe, with her giant sock about to come down on me and squash me, again and again and-”

            “Tessa?” the therapist gently interrupted. “It’s all right now.”

            The patient nodded, getting ahold of herself again. Now that she was back in an environment where people could understand her words, it was sometimes hard to stop herself from expressing.