But the most torturous part was the videos on the television. They weren't ordinary breastfeeding videos, but ones that had been edited and manipulated with specific intent. Behind the soft visuals of mothers nursing their babies, there were subtle audio tracks deliberately inserted, designed to influence, indoctrinate, suggest, and slowly brainwash Emmy. These hidden messages constantly urged her to forget her adult identity and accept that she was now nothing more than a real baby.
The sound from the television played on and on, looping endlessly without pause.
The voices repeated the same message again and again, that being a baby was comforting, safe, and nothing to be afraid of. The messages were delivered in a gentle, soothing tone, like a mother whispering her child to sleep. And that's what made them dangerous, because without realizing it, the words began slipping into Emmy's mind, slowly altering the way she thought.
The goal of the video was clear, to reprogram Emmy, to erase her identity as an adult woman, and implant the belief that she was merely a baby. A baby who didn't need to think, didn't need to make any decisions, just stay quiet, sweet, and completely dependent on her "mother."
The longer Emmy stared at the screen, the harder it became to distinguish reality from suggestion. And that was exactly what the person who put the video there wanted.
Emmy sat still, staring blankly at the television hanging on the wall across from the bed. On the screen, the same video played over and over again, soft voiced narration with calming background music, showing women gently breastfeeding their babies.
Some scenes showed mothers rocking their little ones, stroking their tiny heads, kissing their foreheads with affection. Then it shifted to other scenes, mothers breastfeeding with loving gazes, eyes fixed on the peaceful faces of their babies nestled in their arms.
"It feels so nice to be a baby, doesn't it, Baby..." came the soft narration, almost like a whisper that slipped directly into Emmy's head. "No need to be afraid... no need to think... just sleep, nurse, and be loved..."
The scene changed again. A mother smiled as she carried her baby to bed, gently laid them down, and tucked them in. The camera focused on the baby's face, peaceful, unburdened.
Emmy turned her face away, trying to avoid the stares of the mothers on the screen. But the soft voice continued speaking, pressing deeper into her subconscious.
"Being a baby is safe... being a baby is peaceful... you don't need to be responsible for anything..."
The video kept looping, never stopping. No breaks. No option to turn it off. The remote was nowhere to be found. Even if it were, Emmy wouldn't be able to reach it with all the restraints binding her.
How long had the video been playing? Emmy didn't know. Days? Weeks? Her mind felt foggy, not from forgetfulness, but from being repeatedly forced to believe in something unreal.
Her mind resisted, but her body was too tired. The voice began to feel familiar, soothing like something you hear right before you drift off to sleep.
"My baby doesn't need to think... Mommy will do all the thinking for you..."
Emmy took a deep breath. Her chest felt tight. She knew this was all part of Mrs. Gloria's plan. To brainwash her. To erase her identity. To transform her into something she wasn't.
But as her eyes grew heavy, and her head leaned back against the wall... that voice kept calling to her...
"Becoming a baby... is the path to freedom from pain..."
The screen changed again.
And Emmy... still couldn't close her eyes.
The words kept playing, slow, but persistent. Like water dripping onto stone, leaving a mark over time. At first she ignored them, tried to look away, but the screen seemed to call to her again and again.
"No... I'm not a baby... I'm not a baby..." Emmy whispered, trying to hold on, her eyes beginning to burn, her body trembling slightly.
But the voice kept seeping in. "Babies don't need to fight... babies just stay quiet and loved... Forget who you used to be. You belong to Mommy now..."
Emmy gripped her cuffed hands to her chest. Her breathing grew heavier. Part of her wanted to scream, to tear the TV off the wall. But another part... felt tired. Too tired to fight. And that was exactly why the words began to make sense.
"I'm not a baby...!!" Emmy said once more. But her voice had lost its strength, like a child who was no longer sure of her own words.
And then suddenly, a hazy image surfaced in her mind, a vision of herself, powdered, cuddled, breastfed, and called "baby" by Mrs. Gloria. She remembered those large hands stroking her head, the soft voice saying, "Mommy's here, okay... Mommy's always here for you..."
Emmy's mind trembled. Fear and comfort battled within her. One voice begged her to run. The other pleaded with her to surrender.
And on the screen, the voice whispered once more, "It's okay... Hug Mommy... Let yourself become a baby again... You don't need the outside world... Just Mommy..."
***
The front door creaked softly as it opened. Mrs. Gloria stepped in with steady strides, carrying a shopping bag filled with baby supplies, fresh diapers, baby powder, lactation milk, and a bottle of telon oil.
Her smile lingered. A strange smile... like someone who felt their dream had finally come true.
She closed the door, locked everything tight, then descended to the basement, toward the place where her "baby" was waiting.
***
The door to Emmy's room slowly creaked open. A damp scent mixed with the sweet smell of baby powder drifted out into the hall. Inside the dimly lit room, Emmy still sat on the same bed. Her wrists and ankles were shackled with half meter chains, restricting every movement. Around her neck, an additional collar was fastened, connected to the bedpost, making it impossible for her to leave the bed.
Her hair was messy, her cheeks looked thinner than they had days before. She hadn't slept. Her eyes were red and glassy, not from crying, but from staring too long at the glowing TV screen in front of her.
The screen continued to play the same video of a mother breastfeeding her baby. A soft, soothing voice repeated over and over, "Mommy loves you, baby... It's okay if you're tired... let Mommy take care of everything... Babies don't need to grow up... Don't think about anything..."
Emmy no longer knew how long she had been listening. Maybe dozens of times. Maybe more. The video looped automatically, endlessly. The voice was gentle, the tone calming, but that's exactly why it slipped so easily into Emmy's mind, seeping in slowly, crawling beneath her consciousness.
Time moved sluggishly. It felt as if the world had stopped, just to make sure Emmy kept listening.
When Mrs. Gloria entered, Emmy turned her head. Their eyes met.
Normally, Emmy would look away or scream. But this time was different. She just stared, blankly, as if she were too tired to be angry or afraid.
"Mama..." Emmy whispered, her voice hoarse like she'd just recovered from a long cough.
Mrs. Gloria placed the shopping bag on the small table, then walked over. She sat gently on the edge of the bed, gazing at Emmy with deep affection. Her large fingers carefully brushed Emmy's tangled hair behind her ear.
"Yes, honey. Mama's home now." Her tone was soft, calm, like someone speaking to a toddler.
Emmy opened her mouth, hesitating. "Earlier... the voice on the TV... it said I'm... safe here... with Mama..."
Mrs. Gloria smiled sweetly. "Because it's true, my dear. You are safe here. I will protect you. I will care for you. You don't have to think too hard... you don't have to carry anything..."
Emmy shook her head slightly, trying to resist. "But... I'm not a baby... I... I'm an adult..."
But even as the words left her lips, they sounded unconvincing, even to herself.
Mrs. Gloria took Emmy's shackled hands and kissed her forehead.
"My honey... instead of living too long as an adult full of pressure... full of pain... now is the time for you to rest. Being a baby is better, calmer, and you are loved..."
Emmy lowered her head. Her eyes brimmed with tears again. A war raged inside her—between reason and the intoxicating pull of comfort.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked softly.
Mrs. Gloria didn't answer right away. She slowly unbuttoned the top of her blouse, revealing her huge breast. Then, with gentle hands, she guided Emmy's head toward her lap.
Emmy resisted, half heartedly. But her body was too tired, her mind too hazy. And when her face finally pressed against Mrs. Gloria's huge breast, she closed her eyes. Maybe just for a moment. Just to rest.
And as Emmy began to nurse, Mrs. Gloria wrapped her in a tight embrace.
"Forget everything... You are Mommy's baby... Now, and forever..."
Meanwhile, on the TV screen, the voice still whispered, "Hold Mommy close... Don't go anywhere... Be a good baby... You are loved here..."
***
The clock showed 5:02 in the morning. The sky outside was still dark, with only the sounds of crickets and a gentle breeze slipping into the room. Inside the basement bedroom, the atmosphere was quiet and dim. A faint night light illuminated part of the large wooden bed in the corner of the room.
On the bed, Mrs. Gloria was still fast asleep. Her large body lay on its side, cuddling Emmy who was nestled peacefully in her arms. Emmy looked like a tiny baby beside Mrs. Gloria's massive frame. One of Mrs. Gloria's huge breasts was exposed, and Emmy's face was still gently pressed against it, traces of breast milk dampening the corner of her lips and the slightly moist skin of Mrs.Gloria's huge breast. That night routine had become a habit, breastfeeding Emmy until she fell asleep, then Gloria would drift off as well.
A blanket covered the two of them, leaving only their shoulders and heads visible. Emmy, still dressed in a loose shirt and a diaper that had been changed the night before, appeared calmer than usual. Her face looked like that of a child who had fallen asleep after feeling full and loved. The chains on her wrists and ankles were still in place, because Mrs. Gloria knew exactly when to loosen them, and when to tighten.
Suddenly, on the small table beside the bed, a phone vibrated loudly, followed by a sharp ringtone that pierced the silence of the room.
Mrs. Gloria slowly woke up. Her eyes were heavy, but the sound made her alert. She reached for the phone without waking Emmy, who was still asleep in her arms.
The screen displayed a name she knew all too well, Mrs. Pamella.
Gloria pressed the green button and answered in a voice still raspy from sleep.
"Good morning, Madam..."
A sharp, commanding voice immediately replied on the other end.
"Gloria, I'll be on a flight at eight this morning."
"Yes, Madam," Gloria responded quickly, now more awake.
"It's just a one hour flight. I don't want to wait. Make sure you're already at the airport before I land." Mrs. Pamella ordered.
Mrs. Gloria straightened up immediately. She glanced at the digital clock in the corner of the room: 05:06.
"Understood, Madam. I won't be late." Whispered Mrs. Gloria.
Mrs. Pamella said nothing more. She only replied,"Don't make me angry, Gloria. You know I hate waiting."
Then the call ended.
Mrs. Gloria took a deep breath. She turned toward Emmy, still sleeping in her arms. Emmy's face looked so peaceful, so serene, and so easily misled.
Gently, she lifted Emmy out of her embrace and laid the girl's head on a pillow. Emmy mumbled faintly, but didn't wake.
Mrs. Gloria stared at her for a few seconds. "You're so beautiful, honey... Mama loves you so much, Emmy."
She stood up, covering her still exposed huge breast, and began getting ready. But before she left, she grabbed a baby bottle from the cupboard and placed it on the small table beside the bed.
Mrs. Gloria sat at the edge of the bed, then opened the front of her blouse. Calmly, she began to express her large breast, collecting her breast milk into a baby bottle. Drop by drop, it flowed, and the bottle slowly filled up. Once finished, she closed the bottle with a baby nipple, making sure everything was clean and sealed tightly. Then, she placed the bottle next to Emmy, who was still asleep, so that when Emmy woke up, she could drink it right away without having to wait for Mrs. Gloria to return.
"If you wake up before Mama gets back, you know what to drink, don't you?" Mrs. Gloria smiled softly, then left the room.
The door closed quietly, leaving Emmy still fast asleep, and the TV, now switched back on automatically,,whispering a line that had been heard far too many times,
"Mommy loves you... Babies don't need to grow up... Babies only need to be loved..."
***
That morning, the airport was bustling yet cold. The atmosphere was bathed in soft sunlight, sweeping across the shiny floor and large glass walls that greeted the arriving and departing passengers.
Mrs. Gloria stood among the crowd, wearing a long dark brown coat. Her left hand clutched the strap of her sling bag, while her right hand held her phone, constantly checking the time. She had been standing there for nearly an hour, right in front of the Domestic Arrivals gate.
Her face looked tense, not from fear of being left behind, but because she knew exactly what Mrs. Pamella was like when kept waiting.
She looked up each time someone came through the glass doors. Again and again, just regular travelers. Some wore suits, some arrived with families, and most were greeted immediately by their private drivers.
Then, a woman emerged from the arrival gate.
Her stride was firm yet graceful. Her shoulder length hair was slightly wavy and neatly styled, a deep chestnut brown that shimmered in the morning light. Her complexion was fair and smooth, with minimal but sharp makeup. Her body was curvy and tall, dressed in a black coat and matching tight pants, with high heels that clicked confidently against the airport floor.
In her left hand, she pulled a large black wheeled suitcase. In her right, a branded handbag swung from her arm.
Mrs. Gloria recognized her instantly. She straightened up and greeted her with a cautious, forced smile.
"Welcome, Madam." Said Mrs. Gloria with a polite bow.
Mrs. Pamella slowly turned her head, her sharp eyes scanning Mrs. Gloria from head to toe. Then she stopped in front of her, staring straight ahead with a blank expression.
"Have you been waiting long?" She asked coolly, without a smile.
"I arrived earlier, just as you instructed, Madam." Replied Mrs. Gloria politely.
Mrs. Pamella gave a small nod, then handed over the suitcase handle without a word. She pulled out her phone from her pocket and walked ahead toward the parking lot. Mrs. Gloria followed close behind, pushing the large suitcase.