Back to the Cradle

Chapter 2 - In the Name of Hunger

Emmett found himself inside a brightly colored playpen in Eloise's living room, surrounded by oversized toys and soft padding. The hum of the TV playing Cartoon Network was a stark contrast to the seriousness of his situation. He watched as El moved around the kitchen, their presence calm and almost indifferent.

Shit, I need to get out of here, Emmett thought, his mind racing. This psycho can’t keep me here forever.

He looked around the playpen, searching for any potential escape routes or tools that might help him. The netted walls were too high to climb, and the toys scattered around offered no practical use. His frustration mounted as he realized how trapped he was.

El glanced over from the kitchen, catching Emmett’s frustrated expression with a smirk. “Still plotting your escape, I see?” they called out, their tone light and mocking. “You know, it’s much more enjoyable if you just relax and make the best of things.”

Emmett clenched his fists, glaring at El. “I’m not staying here. I’m getting out of this place.”

El chuckled, turning back to their cooking. “Oh, Emmett, you’re welcome to try. But you might find that life here isn’t as bad as you think—if you play along.”

The words hung in the air as Emmett continued to search for a way out, knowing that every minute spent in the playpen was another minute lost in a fight for his freedom.

★★★

Emmett wakes up to the scent of egg omelette wafting through the room. He jolts upright, his face flushes as he realizes he had fallen asleep, drool drying on his cheek.

Dammit, this is so humiliating, he thinks, feeling a surge of frustration. The sound of El's cheerful humming from the kitchen only heightens his embarrassment and irritation. 

El walks up to the playpen, their voice dripping with sickeningly sweet and babyish tones. "Well hey there, sleepyhead!" they coo. "Wanna get out and have some yummy breakfast now?" They hold their hands out, an expectant smile on their face.

Emmett hesitates, his mind racing as he considers his options. He might be able to escape while El is distracted. With that thought in mind, he tentatively reaches out, and El takes it as a sign to pick him up.

El lifts him effortlessly, bouncing Emmett on their leg as they do so. "Good boy," El praises cheerfully.

Emmett can’t help but blush, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. He instinctively hides his face in the crook of El’s neck, the unfamiliar term making him feel strange and vulnerable.

El chuckles softly, clearly amused by Emmett’s reaction. “How adorable,” they murmur, their voice filled with an unsettling affection.

Emmett continues to grapple with the strange feelings invoked by El's words as Eloise gently places him into a high chair. They set a plate of cut up sweet onion omelettes in front of him, the delicious aroma makes his stomach rumble.

El's smile widens as they observe Emmett’s reaction. "Looks like someone’s hungry," they say, their tone playful and almost mocking.

Emmett’s face flushes red as he looks away, trying to hide his embarrassment. El chuckles softly at his reaction.

“Alright now, pumpkin, say ‘ahhh’,” El says, holding up a fork with a piece of omelette on it.

Despite his reluctance and the humiliation of the situation, the delicious aroma and his growling stomach make it impossible to resist. Emmett opens his mouth and takes the bite, his eyes light up as he tastes the omelette—it’s probably the best he’s ever had.

“Yummy, isn’t it?” El asks with a teasing smile.

Emmett is momentarily distracted by the delicious flavor but quickly remembers the situation he's in. He takes a deep breath and quickly composes himself. “It’s okay, I guess,” he replies, trying to mask his enjoyment with a forced indifference.

"Oh..." El says, feigning disappointment, and begins to take the plate away.

“Wait! No!” Emmett yells, reaching out. “I’m not done with that yet, please!”

El stops in their tracks and glances back at Emmett with a raised eyebrow. “Hm? I thought you didn’t like my omelette?” Their tone is light, but there’s a glint of amusement in their eyes.

Emmett swallows his pride, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I—I really liked it, okay!" he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks down, muttering, "It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted..."

El turns back around, still holding the plate, and gives him a sharp look. "Then don’t lie about it," they say sternly. "I won’t hesitate to take your food away next time." The firmness in El’s voice makes it clear they mean what they say.

“Now does little Emmy want his omelettes back?” El says mockingly, holding the plate just out of reach.

Emmett doesn’t respond, his pride clashing with his hunger. He looks away, trying to maintain his composure despite the rumbling of his stomach and the delicious smell of the food.

El chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the power play. “Come on, Emmy,” they coax, “just ask nicely, and I’ll give it back. It’s up to you.”

Emmett’s stomach growls louder, betraying his pride. He glances at the plate, then back at El, struggling with his internal conflict. The hunger is too strong, and the thought of the delicious omelette is nearly unbearable.

With a sigh of resignation, he finally mutters, “Can I please have the omelette back?”

El’s face lights up with a satisfied grin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” they say. “But you’re forgetting something.”

El leans in closer, their tone playful yet commanding. “One little magic word.”

Emmett looks at the tall person in confusion, not understanding what they mean. His frustration mounts as he realizes El is not done with their games. “What are you talking about?” he asks, trying to keep his irritation in check.

"Maybe add a little… Mistress, Master, or Mommy in there,” Eloise teases, their voice dripping with mock sweetness. “And I'll give it back~”

Emmett’s face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He glares at Eloise, the playful taunt making his situation even more humiliating. He grits his teeth, trying to resist the urge to comply with their demand.

Eloise’s grin widens, clearly enjoying Emmett’s discomfort. “Come on, Emmy,” they coax. “It’s just a word. It won’t hurt you to play along.”

Emmett contemplates the options, feeling the weight of his predicament. Calling Eloise "Mommy" would be much more humiliating than "Mistress" but if I play along more, he might be nicer. The thought pushes him to make a decision, although he wasn't happy about it.

With a deep breath and voice barely audible, he finally says, “Please… Mommy, can I have the omelette back?”

Eloise’s face lights up with a satisfied, almost tender smile. “That’s much better, sweetheart,” they say, as they finally slide the plate back within Emmett’s reach. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”