The Artist - Part 3 (Patreon)

Elle struggled for weeks to try to master the xylophone, to get good enough to prove that she was a musician, to get herself out of this mess, but there was nothing she could do. If a toy xylophone could even be tuned, this one was very much not, and nothing she could think to do made it sound any better.

When the Amazon - who insisted on being called Mommy, of course - would remove Elle's pacifier, usually moments before filling the girl's mouth instead with a bottle, a spoonful of gross, gooey baby food, or, to Elle's mortification, her breast, Elle tried to explain that, and that she hadn't really been in the percussion section anyway, and that she wasn't a baby; there was never enough time to get through all of it, and even if she did, the woman never paid attention anyway, so she tried to abbreviate it, which also didn't do the trick.

Finally, she decided to try another tactic. Clearly, proving that she was a musician wasn't going to work out, not with the tools she had... And, when going up against the diet the woman had her on, and the hypnosis she had no doubt was a part of the mobile she had no choice but to stare at every afternoon and night, during naps and after bedtime, there was no proving she was an adult... Within days, she'd started waking up wet, and, while she'd been reduced to pooping her pants like a Little the whole time, since the woman refused to pay attention when she tried to mime out what she needed when she asked to use the bathroom, or even a potty, she was noticing that she was able to hold it an ever-shorter amount of time with each passing day.

So she was going to have to switch mediums. She'd told the Amazon she was an artist, after all, and she considered herself one... She wasn't allowed any crayons or fingerpaints, since the woman claimed that she was certain Elle was too immature to keep from drawing on the walls if she had those, but, every once in a while, she would find a sticker in the toy box. Given her captor's position on crayons and paint there, she knew better than to put the stickers on the wall, so she tried decorating herself to show her artistic ability.

If the Amazon even realized that's what Elle was going for, she didn't let on, just, perhaps, commenting on how cute it was before peeling the sticker off and putting it on Elle's diaper instead, just before tossing it into the diaper pail. 

Then, one day, after Elle had practically given up, the Amazon said something that perked her ears up. "What is this?" she asked, "some kind of art piece?"

Elle looked up from the tray of her high chair, where she'd been left to feed her snack to herself, though she, unsurprisingly, wasn't trusted with any utensils. At first, she wasn't sure what the woman was referring to, but she nodded anyway. "Yeah!" she squealed. "I told you, I'm an artist!"

"I'm sure you are," the Amazon chuckled. "Just like you were a musician, before you started spreading rumors that one of the girls in your section was secretly a Little, and couldn't be trusted to keep her seat dry." Elle blinked, having almost forgotten about that, then suddenly overcome with confusion as the memory came rushing back, along with the question of how this woman could know that. 

"That was my friend's daughter," the woman told her, before she could find the words to ask. "She's always been very sensitive about her height, and those comments didn't help... She quit because of you, you know. Everyone was making fun of her... That's why I had you fired." Elle's eyes widened. "That's right... You didn't know, did you? I'm one of the biggest contributors to the orchestra, and when I'm unhappy, they're unhappy."

Elle gasped. Not only did this woman know exactly who she was, she'd known all along, and was the reason she'd needed help paying for her groceries in the first place, to start all this. Had she been following her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? She did already have all these baby supplies she'd been using on Elle in her cart already, as she waited in line behind her...

"Come on in, Cathy," the Amazon smiled as she watched Elle squirming in her high chair, working it all out. Elle's eyes shot upwards, as she saw the red-headed girl who she'd made up those stories about walk into the room. "Cathy here is still too embarrassed to go back to the orchestra," the woman said, "so I told her she could make some extra money as a babysitter. Now, how about you go clean up the baby's art project for a start?"

It was only then, as the other girl approaching, smirking, with a washcloth, and started to wipe her face, that Elle realized the Amazon had been referring to the mess she'd made on her face while eating, and not any bit of real art... That was also when she realized she even had made that much of a mess. She gulped, staring at Cathy, who didn't seem nearly as small, now that Elle was in a highchair and a wet diaper, and began to hope that the other girl would realize her true calling as a musician again, and quickly, because she had a feeling she was much better at doing that than being a babysitter... At least to her.