King Babygirl

There was a strange sensation of floating. Warmth. A drumming of a heavenly heartbeat. The king squeezed his fingers. Or tried too but they twitched. He felt more than anything else. It was this weird sensation of growing pains as things … grew everywhere. Floating in the amniotic sac of the pregnant slavegirl… he didn’t know this but he felt… safe. It was a forgotten feeling. His first nine months. Were just like this instincts told him in a way that was … instinctual. He felt odd. His thoughts were strange. The two hemispheres of his brain had not yet separated and were one. And he thought on both sides. And it was surreal. Parts of the brain were … he twitched. Darkness. Warmth. Floating. Dreaming and thinking all at once.

Four more months of this. He didn’t know. There was much for king babygirl to learn.

***

Four months later.

-oh, my, fucking, god!!!- King Babygirl wanted to cry but her lungs were full of amniotic fluid, and an umbilical was connected to her belly, and she was going head first down the constricting birth canal.

-oh god. this is not happening. not happening. Not!?!- she thought as she was birthed. Suddenly things were sliding and she was being pulled out.

King Babygirl thought as she felt a wetness on her body. Her first sensation was not the warm embrace of the outside world but the cold shock of water as the midwives cleaned her off. She squirmed and cried, her voice high pitched and new. She was slapped and her tiny lungs filled with air for the first time.

She couldn’t see. She was blind! Or at least her eyes were undeveloped.

Something warm and soft was pressed into her mouth. Course swaddling. -is that a nipple. yes. tastes like it!!!- she thought as her toothless mouth found instinctive purchase.

“It’s a girl! A baby girl!” One of the midwives declared.

King Babygirl swallowed her milk fearfully. She. Was. A she…

This was not good.

“She’s going to be as pretty as her mum. And as popular!”

-oh. Meconium Bloody poop….- King Babygirl thought with disgust as she felt the first bowel movement of her new life. The midwives were busy. One was cutting the cord and the other was rubbing her down. She felt something cold and metallic touch her belly button. And then she was being passed around. It was all so confusing.

She was the king. This was ignoble! It was a jest of the gods! But it was true. She felt it deep in her soul, in that part of her that was still the king. And she felt it in the way she was being treated. So small. So helpless. A girl. And her mother was a **** which made her a ****, born and bred. She would never be tall, strong, free or… a man!

The world was a strange place of smells and sounds. She could feel the weight of her own body and the warmth of the fireplace as they laid her down in a basket of furs. Her mother's arms reached for her, the love in her voice unmistakable, even if she could not yet see her face. But she knew it was her mother. The scent was instinctually familiar, the voice soothing.

The midwives had gone, and she was alone with the woman whose body she had shared for so long. The woman who was now her mother, her fate tied to her by ties of blood. The irony was not lost on her. The king, now a helpless babe, dependent on a lowly **** for nourishment and care. She felt a pang of something like pity for herself, for the life she had lost. She started to cry like a baby!

Her mother picked her up, cradling her in her arms. She felt the warmth of the woman's embrace, and for a moment, she allowed herself to be comforted by it. The milk was sweet and warm, and she suckled greedily, feeling the first stirrings of hunger abate. But even as she fed, her mind was racing with thoughts of escape, of reclaiming her throne. They were fantasies she knew. A **** was always a ****. She would grow up and be a man’s property. The closest she would ever get to the throne would be kneeling submissively at its feet as a thrall and pet.

Her mother's voice was a gentle lullaby, a stark contrast to the harshness of the world she had been born into. The other sounds of the castle drifted in from outside the chamber: the clank of metal, the bark of orders, the murmur of footsteps on cold stone. But here, in this dimly lit room, it was just the two of them. For now, she was safe.

***

Time passed slowly and was marked by milestones that she had once taken for granted. She developed sight, she struggled and worked her feeble muscles. She rolled over. She could hold a spoon. A cup. She could feed herself. Then she crawled. Then she stood and held onto low tables. Then her first steps. And she grew more dexterous, able to remove and put on her clothes.

She practiced talking and gradually developed her vocal cords. She gained control of her bladder and bowels. That was wonderful. It was all so undignified and dirty until then. She still had accidents that were shameful.

She would have to sleep a lot. And she had horrible nightmares. She would dream she was trapped in a baby girl body and she would wake up and it was reality. Gradually her sleeping settled as she grew to accept her fate.