The Weaning

Kyle woke to the nightmare that was his new reality. Sun streamed into the room sending harsh shadows through the bars of his crib. He lay in a ball, clutching himself, hungry beyond hunger. If he had indeed been an infant he'd be bawling his head off.

She walked into the room, bent over the crib.

Good morning, little one.

She said that every morning, though he had no idea what it meant. While his own language was full of harsh sounds, hers was soft, almost song-like. He couldn't tell where one word ended and another began.

He reached for her.

"Mama!"

It was the only word he knew.

She smiled. Yes, little one, mama's here.

Mama unlatched the lid of the crib, reached in, and pulled him out. She laid him on the bassinette and removed his dirty diaper. She washed him thoroughly, then wiped him head to toe with a warm, damp cloth, and swaddled him.

She wrapped him in three layers of soft, white cloth. At first he had thought it was to contain him. He had fought her constantly when she first brought him home. But then he came to understand it was just her way, creating a snug little bundle she could tuck in the crook of her arm.

She walked him through the house to the common area. There were three other women, nursing their own, rocking slowly back and forth. Mama settled into a chair, bared her breast. Kyle fastened his mouth to the enormous nipple and sucked eagerly. Warm milk poured into his mouth, down his throat. Little by little the hunger eased.

He was nowhere near their land, the land of the giants, the ones who ate small children, or so the story went. He had shot a deer while hunting with the others. He had followed the blood trail for a day before finding the deer lying on the edge of a river. He gutted the animal, made a travois, loaded the animal onto it. He waded into the river to wash the blood off. A shadow came over him. He thought it was just a cloud until the hands enveloped him, pinning his arms at his sides, bore him into the air.

A gift, two gifts! The Gods must be pleased!

There were others. They laughed, nodded.

They took his knife and bow, pushed him into a leather sack. He could see through the lacing as the giants cooked the deer and ate it. It seemed a mere snack for them.

They spent the night at the river. In the morning, the giants, their own travois laden with meat, headed East. The trip took two days.

Their town was a collection of communes of sorts. Several houses clustered around a common area. There were many clusters. They passed several before entering one.

The woman he would come to know as Mama was delighted with him. Though he fought her with all his strength, she merely smiled and made soft, cooing noises.

She opened a jar, dug her fingers into it, rubbed an ointment of sorts all over his body. She left him squirming in the goo for several minutes, then wiped him down. To his fear and astonishment, his hair disappeared. He could see it on the towel, could see his bare arms and legs, could feel cool air on his bald scalp.

She bathed and swaddled him, took him to meet the others. The others, nursing their own, giant babies, smiled.

He looks well.

Yes, yes he does.

It is a shame you lost your child, but now you can produce milk for others who cannot and have no fear of drying up.

A cloud passed over Mama's face, but she nodded. Yes.

How many does this make? Eight?

I believe it is eleven. Remember we lost two last year. And I heard that another was found recently. So that would make ten still.

Kyle struggled inside the wrapping. He raised such a fuss that Mama pushed a pacifier into his mouth, fixed it with a bit of blue ribbon.

Later she forced a rubber nipple into his mouth, dribbled a bit of her milk into it. The taste of her breast milk made him vomit at first but he was forced to drink some every day.

The change came slowly. His normal food satisfied him less and less, made him ill, actually. Only Mama's milk filled the void. Within a month it was normal food, meat and fruit, that made him sick. His hunger only sated with Mama's milk ... but it left him hungry, always hungry. He would have to suck all day to be able to sleep at night.

One day he went to sleep and when he woke he found he had no teeth. Mama bathed his sore gums daily, rubbed something on them to ease the pain, and, a couple of weeks later, Kyle got his first taste of Mama's milk directly from the source.

A part of him still resisted, but it was futile. The craving drove him to suck, draining the milk from her breast until his stomach bulged. The liquid leaving as soon as it went in, Mama changed his diaper often.

He lay, cradled in the crook of Mama's arm, lips fastened to her nipple, warm, fresh breast milk ran down his throat. The hunger eased. He was feeling full, satisfied, but he knew it wouldn't last ... not for long.

 

20.01.12