Fussy - Day 0, Carmen

Finally, I removed the helmed, and stood. Leah stood by me, head tilted curiously.

Carmen blinked slowly, heavily, as her brain rebooted. With a confused expression, she sniffed the air, made a grossed out grimace, and whined without words. She started to roll and flail with uncoordinated motions.

Leah furrowed her brow. “Is something wrong?”

“This is how most babies are, so… probably not.” I returned to Carmen’s side and stroked her hair. "What is it, Carmen?" But the name Carmen felt a little too... well, mature, given Carmen's current state. "What's the matter, Carrie?" I asked again, raising my voice to a higher octave for her benefit.

Carmen - “Carrie” - writhed and wiped angrily at her nose, upset.

Frowning, I leaned in and experimentally smelled her hair. She still smelled like cigarette smoke.

While Carmen might’ve smoked like a chimney, as Carrie, she’d never encountered the thick, acrid taste of tobacco. And what baby likes the smell of cigarettes?

"All right. Bath time it is," I said. “Leah? Draw a warm bath for our girl."

My old friend bowed aside and disappeared up the stairs. I knelt by Carmen's side to reassure her.

"Hey Carrie. It's okay sweetheart. Daddy's here," I cooed, stroking Carmen's cheek and nuzzling her nose with mine. The sniffling, upset girl stilled and looked up at me with big, innocent, baby blue eyes. I couldn't help but smile back down at her. "That's right. Daddy'll always be here for you."

Carrie smiled uncertainly up at me with puffy red eyes, occasionally fidgeting.

After a few more minutes, I heard the bath upstairs stop filling. I scooped the naked Carrie up in my arms and started on my way up the stairs, enjoying the feel of her skin, the helpless weight of her body in my arms.

Even with Leah’s help, it was a whole production to safely lower Carrie into the bath. Leah wound up soaked.

No matter. She added her maid dress to the laundry pile and returned in the nude.

With Leah’s help, I soaped up the water and washed Carrie clean.

I poured warm water over her green faux hawk, the water slicking her short hair to her scalp; Carrie gawked in surprise when the water ran int her eyes, blinking and flinching. Then I scrubbed shampoo into her hair, the kind that’s safe for children.

Leah continued scrubbing Carrie’s hair while I moved on. I soaped her back, chest, and legs, eliciting giggles.

"Ticklish, huh?" I asked. I couldn't resist the invitation. I reached across Carrie and washed her slick, soapy breasts both in hand, till her nipples stiffened again.

Carrie writhed without coordination or purpose, eyes rolling up into her skull and gurgling at the sensation. I slipped a hand down her stomach and rubbed her slit beneath the water. Carrie twitched, her face burning red and her head lolling across her shoulders. Only Leah’s firm grip kept her inside the tub and above the water.

I laughed. That was enough of that. For a long while, me and Leah worked in tandem to scrub Carmen of the last vestiges of her old life. I smelled her again - this time, I smelled nothing but skin and soap.

Only Carrie’s blue-green dyed hair, wet to her scalp, served as evidence of who she once was, of who she might become again one day.

"Bath time done," I announced. We rinsed Carrie off, drained the tub, then toweled her dry. Carrie went back to fussing and struggling as Leah combed her hair.

Had Carmen been a fussy baby before? Or was there enough different about a mature body, about a fully developed mind, that meant her baby-personality expressed itself differently in the present? Something worth thinking more about later.

I sent Leah to fetch Carrie's new nightclothes. Shortly, my assistant returned with a comfy pink onesie with short legs, a zipper in front, and a big fuzzy hood. Together, we dressed Carrie in the garment, then I princess-carried her to the bedroom while Leah opened the doors for me.

The last time Carmen had been in her old room, she’d been a teenager, years ago. But even teenager Carmen wouldn't recognize her room now.

Over the last week, we’d meticulously removed the band posters, CDs, souvenirs, and decor which previously dominated the space. Carmen's old desk, bed, edgy wardrobe, it was all gone.

Much like Carmen herself, and her house, the room had been totally stripped and cleaned in preparation for her second childhood.

The new furnishings consisted only of a jumbo double crib and a small white dresser. The crib was meant for two older toddlers, but with the middle divider removed it was just big enough for Carmen to lie curled up on her side.

True comfort wasn’t my main concern. The plan was for Carrie to “outgrow” this bed in a week or two, max.

I laid Carrie down, and Leah draped a blanket over her. The crib was filled with stuffed animals, and a mobile with unicorns and birds hung overtop.

As I suspected, there wasn't enough room for her to stretch out, but it didn’t matter. Carrie automatically curled up into fetal position when deposited. She snuggled grumpily into her blankets and stuffed animals, and, whimpering, settled down to rest.

It was barely 4:00AM. Carmen was tired. Without a flight to catch, or any other responsibilities or cares to speak of, why wouldn't she go straight back to sleep?

"That's my girl," I said, stroking Carmen's sightly damp hair. She relaxed beneath my fingers, the sound of my voice indistinguishable to that of her father's to her ears. It lulled her to sleep. "Get your rest. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."