Page 32 of His Little Morganite

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 fuckoff. 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.

On the fifth day, she has not spoken a word yet, and I know she’s capable, so I gather her up, settle her in her stroller, and secure her with buckles. “We’re going to the clinic this morning, Little one.”

She furrows her brows and arches her entire body forward as I tighten the five-point harness. I had no idea she had that kind of strength. I did suspect she was holding back, but not thismuch. She’s demonstrating a lot of strength in her effort to buck against the straps.

I smile at her. “Ah, so you have gotten some of your mobility back.” I pluck the pacifier from her mouth. “What about speech? Is there anything you’d like to say to Papi?”

She growls and looks away, twisting her head so she’s staring at the side of the stroller.

I lean in and kiss her forehead. It’s the most intimate I’ve been with her since we arrived. I won’t pressure her to experience pleasure while she’s not able to sit up or crawl. It can wait.

The fact that she’s so strong firmly solidifies my belief that she could speak if she were willing. “Here’s the thing, Ava. You need to meet certain milestones. You should have regained your ability to speak by now. Since you have not, I’m taking you to the doctor. I will take you every single day if I need to because it’s concerning.”

She scowls.

I tap her nose. “My primary concern is always going to be your health and safety. If you’re not progressing physically or emotionally, then you need medical attention. I have no choice but to assume you’re either too stubborn to speak because you’re frustrated with your situation or you secretly enjoy numerous trips to the doctor.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I know how aroused you get when the doctor spreads your bottom open wide with the probe. Perhaps you’d benefit from a deeper rectal exam today. I can request a deep enema. Do you know what an enema is, Baby girl?” I know she does, but I’m hoping the suggestion will snap her out of her stubborn refusal to speak.

She twists her head to the side again, not willing to look at me.

I pretend she needs an explanation. “An enema is when the doctor puts a long tube up inside your bottom and fills it with acleaning solution. You’ll hold it for a while and then release it. Little girls who get as aroused as you do from the probe often enjoy the thorough cleaning of an enema.”

She shakes her head.

“No? That doesn’t sound like fun?”

She turns to face me and stares at me with daggers coming out of her eyes. She lowers her gaze to my hand, which is holding her pacifier, and reaches out.

Ah, so she has far more mobility than she has let on. Interesting since she has done nothing to strengthen herself.

I have an idea. “If you can say one word to me, we won’t go to the doctor today. It can’t beno,and it has to have at least two syllables and be understandable. If you’re too stubborn to utter a single word, you must really want your bottom cleaned out.”

This is going to backfire on me if I’m guessing wrong and she’s truly not able to speak, but I’m confident she’s just stubborn.