Parte 3 - The door is opened
After that first day I continued to live in my prison, and although I tried to
convince Onda to let me out using my most diplomatic skills, she wouldn't hear
of it. For her, life continued more or less under the same routine, at least on
what referred to her out-of-the-house schedule. She'd get up early in the
morning, take her shower, have her breakfast, take care of the food and water
right next to my cage, and leave for work. For me, well for me everything was
different. I had to spend the whole day doing absolutely nothing but staying
behind bars, surrounded by this huge bedroom, pondering on what had happened to
me (or what Onda had done to me). I was very bored and started to sleep more
than necessary. I knew my disappearance from the outer world would go rather
unnoticed since I had practically no friends, I hadn't been on speaking terms
with most of my family for a long time, and I had been unemployed for over two
months. Who would miss me? Who would pay attention to me not being out there
any more? The greengrocer?
Once back home, Onda would walk into the bedroom, proceed to get undressed in
her usual manner, have a look at me and the cage and go to the kitchen and the
rest of the house to take care of things. Gradually, I started to get used to
my new size, Onda's size, and the size of everything. I also started to lose
hope and, little by little there was less and less mentioning of the issue in
our conversations.
We did talk. After finishing her duties around the house and may be watching
some TV in the living room, Onda would come into the room and casually chat
about her day, people I knew and so on, very much like in the old days,
although without fearing any of my aggressive remarks, that were so abundant
until the new situation came along. Quite a few weeks went by that way.
One evening, well after my shrinking had been last mentioned, Onda came up to
my cage, easily opened the door that had consumed so many of my futile attempts
at forcing it open myself, sat on our bed right in front of me and told me in a
teacher's tone, firm and assertive,
"Pril, come out".
A bit taken aback, I looked at her for a few seconds before risking a first
step out of my new house and a few more closer to where she was. I stopped in
front of her naked legs, which came down gracefully from under her nightgown.
Her knees stood well over my head, at about twice my size.
"Pril", she said, "you've been a good boy lately by not talking
aggressively, by behaving yourself and by not asking me any more questions
about your size, how long, why, and so on. From the day I shrank you on, we've
started an "Educational Process" aiming at making of you the nice boy
we know you can be. If you continue in the right path, doing what you are told
to, and not asking forbidden questions, you'll be able to earn your way back to
normality. The decision is up to me and, since I know you and I know what I
want, I can assure you it won't be an easy process".
She waited a few moments to make sure that I was taking in her words.
"Good", she said. "From tomorrow on the door of your cage will
be left open, but you are not allowed to walk out" (‘Great’, I thought).
Any attempt at getting out of there, let alone escape, will be severely
punished. Is that clear?”
"Yes", I said hardly containing my joy.
"When I'm instructing you on what to do your answers should always finish
with the words 'my queen'", she added.
"Excuse me?” I said with a funny smile. But when I saw her leaning forward
toward me I quickly corrected myself in a serious way,
"Yes, my queen. Yes, my queen".
"Good boy", she said. "Now, back to your cage".
I spent the whole night planning my escape, dreaming of my escape, enjoying my
escape, relishing my escape.
Oh, Pril, Pril, how foolish were you in those days.
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