In a beautifully decorated nursery, drenched in soft pastel colors, baby Alistair's laughter could be heard as he was being fed mashed pea, while cradling in the arms of his mother, Anne. She was a loving woman and a mother of eight, in her early thirties.
"You're the ultimate food critic, my little gourmet." Anne cooed with a whimsical smile, while fumbling Alistair's chubby cheeks. "Will you love mashed peas today or send them flying across the room?"
"Oh! You've got no idea." Seymour mischievously grins inwardly, and spat out a mouthful of mashed pea.
"Haha! You're too cunning!" She laughed out loud.
As a newborn with the soul of a grown man for the past week, Seymour could only think the world, through the eyes of a baby, was a bizarre place.
From the moment he entered this realm, and found himself trapped in a tiny body with minimal control over his limbs, it had felt like trying to operate a bulldozer with chopsticks. "Utterly frustrating, really." He thought.
Now, let's dive into one of the most awkward moments of his new existence—the breast sucking experience. As a man, Seymour could never have imagined finding himself attached to his mother's huge tits like a tiny leech.
Who knew that sustaining life would involve such an intimate and somewhat unsettling activity? "It's like being in a stealth operation, trying to navigate the nipple maze with the utmost precision, all while questioning my life choices." Seymour's thoughts run wild, recounting how his first week had gone.
And what he despised, more than his fragile nature, was the odd sounds he unintentionally produced. One moment, he's cooing innocently, and the next, he lets out a sound so thunderous that it could wake the dead. It's both embarrassing and hilarious.
Anytime that happened, he felt like he should apologize to those nearby, but unfortunately, his vocabulary is limited to goo-goos and ga-gas right now. And anytime he observes other mothers caring for their babies, he couldn't help but chuckle at the lengths they go to keep them comfortable, these little devils.
"I mean, have you seen those contraptions they call diaper changing stations? It's like a mini wrestling arena." Seymour though, although it felt unnerving, some instances were hilarious even to him.
"As soon as my diaper is opened, I unleash a never-ending stream of urine that would make any fire hydrant jealous. It's as if I want to establish dominance in this new world. And the look of sheer panic on my mother's face is truly priceless, haha!"
"Then there are the sleepless nights. I don't understand why adults make such a fuss about getting a good night's sleep. I've heard phrases like 'EIGHT HOURS OF BEAUTY SLEEP' thrown around, but who needs that when you have the power of baby screaming?" Seymour reveled in the thoughts of giving mama a hard time at night, while giving mama a hard time by spitting mashed pea.
"It's an art form I've mastered, waking up every few hours just to witness the chaos I've caused. Ah, the joy of ruling the night."
But despite all the absurdity, there's something humbling about this experience. As he gazed into his mother's eyes, her unconditional love became apparent.
She will go to great lengths to make him feel safe and loved, even if it meant sacrificing her own sleep, sanity, and dignity. And in those moments, he realizes that although this body may be tiny and helpless, the soul within has a lifetime of wisdom and humor to share.
"So yh, my first week was a mixture of everything, and here I am, an old soul trapped in a tiny package, ready to face the adventures that await me in this strange world." Seymour yawned. "But first, I think I'll take a nap. Being a baby is exhausting, you know?"
"Not so fast, my little gourmet." Anne cooed. "Your sisters will be here anytime soon, to spend the weekend with us. You see, they do every weekend, but this one is extra special and we both know why, don't we? You my love, are the prince of our hearts."
Speak of the devil! The door creaked open, and a stream of seven stunning daughters of the Clover family, who had just arrived from training, entered the nursery.
Each one more stunning than the other, they could hardly contain the joy and excitement of not having to bare with the drama of another sister. They flocked around with sparkling gazes locked onto the baby in their mother's arms, as their individual beauty faded into a collective glow.
"Come closer, my darlings. Meet your little brother, the prince of our hearts." Anne, whispered with the brightest of smiles on her face. Her daughters approached with delicate hands, reaching towards the baby with tenderness.
"Oh! I didn't know the bunnies of this family were so fluffy." Seymour thought as he shot gazes at their insecurities laid bare. Could that even be called an insecurity? What he had observed from the numerous visits by friends and family alike, was that there was some kind of growth spurt in some areas. However, it certainly felt overly exaggerated in his family.
Seraphina was the eldest daughter of the Clovers. A refined beauty with cascading locks of raven black hair, dark almond-shaped eyes, a pixie's nose, and a pouting mouth.
Most of all, she carried the belongings of a supermodel; barely covered by an outgrown uniform whose confines could falter at any moment, freeing those huge globes of sensitive flesh, the size of Jupiter.
She knelt beside Anne with twinkling eyes that couldn't avoid her baby brother. "Oh, Mother, he's absolutely delightful." She said with brightly red cheeks. "Look at that tiny button nose!"
"Yeah, it's like someone pressed the nose button on a baby-making machine." Seymour chuckled inwardly. "You know what else is noticeable? Those two cosmic buttons on your chest meat. Show some decency, will yah?"
The next to come prodding like a basket of lilies was Lilian, the enchantress with fiery red curls, gingerly touching Alistair's little fingers and causing him to stir.
"Oh, he moved!" She exclaimed with an overexaggerated expression. "His touch is like a feather, Mother. He's too precious for this world."
"Yeah, and I'm too precious for nap time! Move your feather touch somewhere else!" Seymour thought, finding their touches irritating. If only he could curse, slap or punch...
But the disturbance was far from over. Lenore, the serene one with gentle features and ocean-blue eyes, leans in close, her voice barely a whisper. "Welcome, little one. We shall shield you from any harm; our love will be your fortress."
"Oh great, a fortress made of love. Can I request a moat filled with milk?" Seriously, Seymour wished he could give them an earful, but no! The unholy curveball life tossed at him really knew how to silence him.
The other sisters—Amelia, Charlotte, Isabella, and Violet—formed a tight circle around Anne and the baby, their eyes fixated on his tiny face. They giggled, cooed, and marveled at him together.
"Oh, look at those rosy cheeks." Amelia giggled. "He has the perfect complexion, Mother!"
"I like to call it the 'rosy-cheeks-don't-care' look. It's the latest baby fashion trend." Seymour couldn't help but make a comeback to all their silly comments.
"Yes, sister!" Violet agreed, twitching her fingers as though she were suffering from leprosy. "His chubby cheeks are just begging to be pinched. I can't resist!"
Seymour grinned at that, knowing he had found the one situation in which he could attack, and he had to bait it. "Be my guest, but I must warn you, my cheeks have their own defense mechanism. They'll retaliate with a fierce baby bite!"
But nope, he was harmless and inaudible. What could he do?
"What enchantment have you woven, Mother?" Isabella couldn't stop herself from asking. "He is the epitome of pure innocence."
"Well I'm glad I can play innocent, even if I secretly plot world domination during naptime." He thought back to the deadpool he's been piecing together for when he grows up and can enact his revenge.
"You know, he's got the best hairdo in town, spiky and wild, just like a mini rockstar!" Charlotte reminded.
"Oh! Uh... well, I guess I like that one." Alistair squished his face and blew raspberries, to which they all burst into a laughing spurt.
Listening to her daughters' enchanting voices, Anne's own eyes welled with tears of joy. "Thank you, my darlings, for loving your brother already." She proclaimed, her bosom heaving like turbo engines. "Together, we will raise him to be a remarkable man."
"That's the spirit!" Seymour mused inwardly. "Ok! Ok! Time's up people, you've infringed enough on my naptime. I suppose it can't be helped, I have to cry to get out of this one."
*Aaaahhhh!!!*
He lets out another one of his rehearsed thundering cries, instantly breaking the tight circle of sister power he felt enmeshed in.
"Yeah! That's more like it... works every time." Seymour smiled inwardly, but suddenly felt his cries were silenced by his mom's tits, her nipples wedged into his mouth.
"Oh hell! Another vulnerability successful exploited." Seymour thought in defeat. "I'm I really that helpless?"
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Author's note:
Hey there, readers! The next chapter is a glimpse from Alistair's POV. Brace yourselves for a wild ride into the eventful world of Alistair at the ripe age of ten. In this crazy world where time is a joke and people live literally FOREVER, ten years zooms by like a rollercoaster on steroids. Stick around for the epic slapstick adventures of our main man. Hold onto your funny bones, folks!
And please drop a review or two when you're done reading. I deeply appreciate!
Thanks a bunch!!
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