December Exclusive - "Ready" - Part 3 (Patreon)

I won’t be able to bear it. I’ll run screaming from the room. Katie will grab hold of me before I even make it to the stairs, and even if I do get further, as far as my mother, what then? Mum’s part of it, according to Katie.

Of course, Katie would say that. To keep me quiet, until she can finish what she’s started. But I think back to what Mum had said before I went upstairs.

Your auntie is going to sleep with me, and you can share with Katie.

Strange sleeping arrangements, putting a grown man with a young girl. But for two little girls, it made perfect sense.

Good boy. And if you need to take a nap, go ahead.

Her thoughts were altering, even before my physical change. The next time Mum sees me, she won’t be shocked.

She thinks you did it yourself.

The thought of my mother seeing me like this, barely more than a toddler, stripped of my adult body, all traces of masculinity and maturity gone. Again, I want to scream.

Good girl.

I don’t. I sit still, mouth shut, eyes down, trying to imagine a scenario where I don’t end up a babbling mess.

Katie mistakes my silence for something else.

“Feeling a little fuzzy?” she asks gently. She puts her arm around my narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry, Robin, you’ll be clear as a bell soon. All those confusing thoughts will go away, and you’ll be a happy little girl.” She giggles. “Just in time for Christmas!” Her sweet tone takes on a sing-song quality as she taps her chin and says, “I wonder what Santa is going to bring you…” She kisses my cheek and asks, “Have you been a good girl, Robin? Santa brings presents for all the good girls and boys.”

And there’s only one way I can respond to that. Only one thing I can do that gives me a chance of escape, of fixing this terrible mistake.

I produce a shy smile and nod. Because I’m not an expert on kids, but I’m pretty sure that a child my age (and I’m guessing two, three years old at most) is bashful around Santa Claus, isn’t entirely sure what to make of the deep-voiced, laughing fat guy in the red suit.

Katie laughs and strokes my arm, and I relax against her body, as if I trust her, as if I’m used to being held. “That’s right. I bet you have been a good girl! A good girl for Mummy, right?” She kisses my cheek again, and I understand that I will have to swallow my anger, suppress my disgust, and reassure my niece that I’m truly under her magical spell.

“Uh-huh,” I mumble, adding a finger to my mouth for heightened effect. “Imma goo giwl,” I say, letting my diction fall to pieces.

Katie squeezes me in her arms. “You really are!” And then she makes a tutting sound. “But you’re all nakie, Robin. What happened? Did you have a bath? Is that why you’re not wearing any clothes?”

I make a show of considering the question. “Uhh…”

“You had a lovely bubble bath, I bet, didn’t you.”

I nod and smile, hoping my facial expression is appropriately innocent. “Habba baff,” I babble around my fingers, and for a moment I’m sure I’ve gone too far, there’s saliva dribbling down my chin and I must sound like a baby, but all Katie does is grin.

“Yes, you did! You had a great big bubble bath!” She holds me so tight that for a second or two I can hardly catch my breath. “And now it’s time to get dressed,” Katie says, sounding as though she’s announcing the next round in a TV game show.

I look down at the dress lying next to me on the bed. “Pretty,” I announce. Priddee.

Katie makes a moan of approval. “It definitely is! Just the thing for a lovely little girl like you, Robin. All sparkly and sweet.”

And as if all of this is completely normal, I let my niece dress me. Katie lies me down on the floor and tapes me into the nappy.

Careful not to look too interested, I watch Katie’s face as she works, pulling the thick tights up my legs. All the while, she looks so pleased, and so genuinely fond of me.  And I astonish myself by thinking, Well, she doesn’t mean any harm. Which is an absurd thought because she is effectively ruining my life.

But really, all she wants is a baby sister to look after. Or will I be her niece? The relationship consequences threaten to make my head spin.

“There,” Katie says with a satisfied nod, “Just right.” And now I remember her, a few years back, doing the same things with a plastic doll. What was it called? I frown in concentration as Katie stands me up and pulls the glittering dress over my head.

Baby Alive. Yes, that was it. I remember Christmas morning, Katie must have been all of five years old, shrieking with excitement when she tore the wrapping paper on her Santa present to reveal the box, Baby Alive peering at her from behind the cellophane. That day, I would have been around fifteen at the time, getting busy with the iPhone 6 Mum had bought for me, part of her “Hey, your dad left us but we’re going to be just fine” act, but all I remember is Katie continually trotting up to me and demanding I show equal attention and delight over the stupid doll.

After she has her bottle, she poos! She poos like a real-life baby!

Do you want to feed her, Uncle Robin? Do you want to feed her so she poos?

It was a gentle ‘No’ at the time, nudging the girl back toward her mother. All Auntie Claire and Mum talked about was how much little Katie enjoyed playing ‘Mummy’.

So now it’s happening again, except she doesn’t need a Baby Alive. Because she’s got me. And I suppress a shudder as I understand that Katie will want to feed me, will want to see me poo in my nappy.

Just like a real-life baby.

Katie fusses at my dress, and then brushes my hair before keeping it out of my face with a hairband festooned with a large, gold flower. I pick at the frilly dress, doing my best to keep a pleased, docile expression on my face, but inwardly I am seething.

Just you wait. Just you wait until your mother gets home.

Mum wasn’t in the house when I did the magic, so…

Auntie Claire doesn’t know about this. She hasn’t been victim to Katie’s dark magic. But she’ll know all about it, the moment she walks in the door. I’ll spill the beans before Katie can even open her mouth.

“Let’s get a look at you,” Katie says and she picks me up, holds me in front of the mirror. “Look at you!” she says brightly, her voice dripping with condescension.

And I should be furious. But face to face with my reflection for the first time, I have to admit that I do make a pretty little girl. Who knew? I plant my thumb in my mouth and smile coyly around it. There, perfect innocence, and I even kick my feet. Such an excited little girl. And no wonder Katie looks so pleased. She’s got her real-life doll, better than any plastic Baby Alive.

And she must think she’s going to get away with it, because when she carries me downstairs, Mum doesn’t look shocked. She holds out her hands and Katie passes me to her.

Mum hugs me tight and kisses my face. “No wonder you didn’t feel right as a boy,” she whispers, and I cringe inside, wondering what other nonsense Katie told my mother as part of the spell.

But there are happy tears in Mum’s eyes, and it’s hard to begrudge her this moment of pleasure. After Dad leaving, and then after I left for college. And then I start to wonder; who’s my mother, in this adjusted universe?

Am I Mum’s daughter? Or am I Katie’s sister? Again, my head is ready to spin with how all of this is supposed to play out, and I wonder if Katie has even thought that far ahead. Has she worked out the relationships, or is she just content to dress me up, and feed me until I mess my nappy? My niece might be some kind of witch but she’s also just a child herself.

I suppose I’ll find out soon enough. Just like Katie will discover what’s going on behind my innocent gaze, as soon as her mother gets back from her shopping trip.

In the meantime, I’m content to be held by Mum, who keeps cuddling and kissing me. I discover how hungry I am after the physical change when she sits down on the couch and offers me a mince pie. Mum picks it out of the foil casing and I start cramming it into my mouth.

“Oh, Robin!” Mum exclaims, her voice laced with motherly (or is it auntly?) indulgence. “You’re getting pastry everywhere!”

That’s a nice thing about being a toddler. I just keep stuffing the pie into my mouth, my tastebuds delighted by the sweet mincemeat and pastry.

“Messy baby,” Katie says, giggling.

Oh, it’s going to be a mess all right, I think to myself, sucking on sweetened fingers as Mum brushes crumbs from my dress. Just you wait. And not too long as it turns out. Just after my babbled demands for a second mince pie are turned down, the front door opens. Auntie Claire has returned.