That’s the last thing I hear before I’m dragged under.
Chapter Eleven
Six months later…
Ganrax
It’s night when I finally step into my home, holding my Little girl in my arms. She’s still asleep, and I’m so eager to see her pretty brown eyes. I’m not eager to face her wrath, though. I’m certain it won’t be pretty.
She should wake up soon. It’s been long enough, but every Little is different. Some awaken from stasis so fast they aren’t even off the transport vessel. Others need several more hours.
Ava is sucking hard on her pacifier, but that tells me nothing. She’s been sucking it almost nonstop for six months. I’m not sure I’ll be able to pry it from her. Even in stasis, she was distressed enough to squirm around and suckle hard as though she needed the comfort.
She’s going to be hungry, so I drop my bag in my bedroom and head for the fridge to grab a premade bottle. My place is spotless because a cleaning crew came in earlier in the day to air everything out and prepare for my arrival. That’s part of the service provided for males who are gone a year to claim a mate.
After I warm the bottle, I stroll toward Ava’s nursery. I stand in the threshold looking around. I’m the one who set it up before I left, but I’ve nearly forgotten what I chose. Ironically the room is a lovely soft pink color that will match the morganite stones I’m convinced will look perfect on Ava’s nipples.
I have no idea if she will like pink or not, but I suspect no matter what color scheme I chose, she will tell me she hates it. Except in a brief conversation she would have overheard between me and Dankin, I didn’t have a chance to explain to Ava what to expect when she awoke.
I’m braced for drama, though it can’t be too bad at first. She won’t even have the ability to speak. She will, however, have enough understanding to be furious and let it be known with her eyes.
The great room is illuminated by a small lamp on an end table, and I set the bottle there before sitting in the recliner where I will most often sit when I hold and rock Ava. I situate her so she’ll be as comfortable as possible, careful not to let her head loll back too far.
I stroke her soft skin, staring down at her. She’s here. She’s finally here. My Little girl. My mate. The female I will spend the rest of my life with. She’s mine to cherish and protect, to love and worship, to discipline and spoil.
Hard times are ahead, but I’m confident in a few weeks, things will fall into place. I did a lot of reading on this subject on the way home. I was worried about her defiance and how stubborn she is. Was it at all possible that Fate made a poor choice?
My research indicated that Fate does not make mistakes. Fate also does not choose any mates that aren’t suitable for life on Eleadia. It’s not that any random human female could make the transition. There are millions who don’t have the temperament.
Apparently there are also millions who are perfectly suited for a deeply submissive life on another planet, but it takes some longer to accept their new life.
My Little girl is undoubtedly one such female.
I stroke her cheek before I lean her back a bit so I can admire her breasts. They’re slightly fuller than when we left Earth. She needed more calories than she’d been getting. Her tummy is rounder and her thighs aren’t as skinny. I’ve often wondered as I watched her fill out more if she’d been eating too little.
It’s possible. My studies indicate that of the many ridiculous customs among humans, they have an odd fixation with body weight and image. Many humans, especially females, starve themselves in order to fit what they perceive as the perfect mold.
The craziest part about humans striving to look a way that’s unnatural is that they do it to attract the attention of the other gender. Females diet and keep their bodies too skinny in order to catch the eye of males. Maybe that in and of itself wouldn’t be so strange, but the relationships females and males create on Earth are so incredibly flimsy it’s mind boggling.
Earthlings rarely mate for life, and their lives aren’t even that long. They make promises to each other, and then they don’t keep them for more than a few years.
I know intellectually it’s because they lack the fated connection or even the influence they can achieve with the simple prick of a quill. It makes me sad for humans.
Even though I know Ava is going to struggle at first to accept her new life, she will come around. She will be my precious Little girl. She will eventually smile and laugh and come to me with open arms. Hopefully for a few centuries.
As for nutrition, we don’t have problems with obesity on Eleadia because we don’t have processed foods. We don’t eat animals. Our foods are far more nutritious and healthier than the crap I know people eat on Earth.
For a long time, I will only feed Ava the formula that’s been specifically produced for incoming Littles. We don’t like to rush our females to begin solid foods, and even when we do, we do so cautiously to make sure they aren’t allergic to anything. So far there have been no instances of a female developing an allergy to our foods, but we are still diligent and careful.
Ava whimpers, and I shift my attention to her face, smiling at her so that when she finally opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is my smile. She makes several attempts to blink before opening her eyes.
I rub her cheek. I know she won’t have control over her body at all yet, but she will have all of her sensations. She can feel my touch. “Hey, there, Baby girl. Welcome home.”
Her eyes roam around as she struggles in my grasp.
I stroke her bare arm. “Don’t try to move. You won’t have muscle control yet. Your body will need about two weeks to fully regain its muscle mass.”
She stops sucking, and I think she’s fighting to push the pacifier out of her mouth.
I pop it out and watch as her lips tremble. “You’ll be able to speak in a few days, Little one, and gradually you’ll learn to roll over and sit up. In no time at all, you’ll be on your feet. I promise.”
Somehow my feisty Little girl manages to convey a look that says she’d like to stab me and leave me for dead, but I ignore it. I lift up her bottle. “You must be hungry. Let’s get a bottle in you before you fall asleep again. You’ll sleep most of the time while your body acclimates. Mostly we’ll be operating on a schedule of feeding, changing you, and sleeping for several days.
When I tap her lips, she stares at me with wide eyes. I hate that she can’t communicate with me even if it’s to tell me to fuck off. I want to hear her voice, and I don’t like her feeling quite so isolated and out of control.
The bottle slips into her mouth, and she suckles instinctively. She can’t help it. She’s conditioned to suckling, and she’s hungry.
While she’s eating, she fills her diaper. I’m grateful for that, too. It’s a good sign. All her internal organs are waking up.
It’s a mixed blessing watching her feed. She’s so precious to me, and yet her eyes convey such frustration. I want to make it all go away and skip forward about a month to a time when I know she will have adjusted and be skipping happily at the park with Mia and the other Littles the two of them will meet.
I have to remain patient and remember she’s far more frustrated than I am. She’s furious.
For four days, I do nothing but feed my Little girl, change her diapers, and watch her sleep. I’m pretty sure she’s reached a point where she’s sleeping intentionally because she doesn’t want to face reality. I’m equally sure she’s not making an attempt to speak for the same reason.
On the second day, I took her to the clinic for a checkup. The doctors, Chadka and Thabo, both met her and were pleased with her progress.
