Twitter Story: Earth 5 AR

[Personalias]

Earth: Year 5 AR

It’s been five years since they took over, these giants with the animal heads. And no one that you’ve known is precisely sure about where they came from.

Some thought they were ancient Gods, come to reclaim a world ruined by humanity.  They went willingly to worship and pledge their undying love for the strange beings from beyond.  Those people were the first to fall.

From your home and on the playground you still heard whispers from the other kids that resistance fighters were out there:  Nutjobs who insisted that the fox heads and cat ears and the like were all aliens from outer space.   They were nutjobs, but they were nutjobs with guns.

Still, they were close to falling, everyone knew.

Reclamation?  Invasion?  Whatever it was called, you fell about two years in.  You kicked and screamed when they came for you.  You cursed and spat while they stripped you, humiliated you and cooed at you in their tongues that humans couldn’t possibly understand or replicate.

That was a lifetime ago.  To you, they were neither gods nor aliens.  Not anymore.  Two in particular you called “Mommy and Daddy”.

You're minding your own business in the daycare’s playroom.  You're aware that another baby is being lowered into your area by a pair of fuzzy hands, but you don't look up.  You're too engrossed in your 4 dimensional coloring page.

What wonders these big fuzzies brought with them!  The diapers were almost worth it!  Almost.

“Hey,” the new baby says.  You look up and drop your crayon. It's a friend.  An old friend.  From before the fall.  You haven’t seen them in years.

But just like you, they're here.  Just like you they're obviously diapered.  Just like you, a paci dangles from a clip and their mouth is crusted with THE MILK.

You look at them blankly before remembering your manners. “Oh...hey.  How you doin’?”

They shrug, noncommittally.  “Oh, y’know.”  They don't seem to fight it like the new babies.  They aren't blushing or looking around frantically in embarrassment. Chances are your old friend has accepted that they were a baby long ago, just like you.

“New daycare?” you ask.

“Yeah,” they say.  “Mommy and Daddy just moved.  New job I think...if that’s what they do.”  You know that feeling.  Sometimes it was impossible to figure out what the giants did, and it had no rhyme or reason that you can decipher.

Your friend crawls over and picks up a rattle.  Whatever beads are in there, you know vibrate to a frequency that causes a massive dopamine release when shook.  It's catnip for humans...err...people….babies.  Babies really like shaking the rattle.

Hopefully your friend knows to shake it lightly or they’ll be really cranky when they stop.

When had you last seen them?  Had the big people even come to Earth yet?  They certainly hadn’t come for you back then.  You shift over to all fours so you could poop.

The mess has filled up the back of your diaper and is squishing beneath you before you have the good grace to feel embarrassment.    “Oh…” Your faced flushes.  “S-s-sorry.”

The last time you’d met, you were still potty trained, and you’ve already met other old friends that were none too pleased to see you so at ease doing what comes naturally.

They stop shaking the rattle a second.  “For what?”  They pat their very swollen padding. “Grown-ups got it right.  Potty is a waste of time.”

“That’s what they say?”

“That’s what I see.”

Come to think of it, there wasn’t anything resembling potties in your new home.  You’d never seen Mommy or Daddy need to use one.  You’d never seen Mommy or Daddy have to eat.  Just you.  And it was always THE MILK.  Speaking of which…

Your friend starts crying and whining like a puppy.  They rub their tummy and make their eyes big and pouty, waiting for one of the bigs to hear their cry.  A giant with the head of a jackal hears their whimpering and picks them up, exposing her breast for them.

They whine and mewl until the nipple is placed into their mouth.  You remember the first time you were fed by one of the big fuzzies.  You’d wanted to wretch when you were forced to latch on and suckle at a strange being’s tit.

Now you can’t imagine yourself wanting anything but THE MILK.

Come to think of it, you're feeling hungry, too.  You start mewling like a kitten until a tiger lady hears you and picks you up, lifting you to her breast.  Delicious.  Just delicious.

As you drink, you are vaguely aware of your diaper being patted and checked.  You’ll probably be changed soon after feeding and burping.

At least your friend seems just as comfortable in their baby life as you are.  Once upon a time you would have balked at all this.

You had, in fact.  Your friend probably did at first, too.

But that?  That was a lifetime ago.

(Fin)

 

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