text: What the hell? Last I remember, Darwin’s face is inches near mine. His breath stinks like he’d never met a toothbrush. I smell bananas on his breath: fuckin bananas! Now, I feel...warmth--and pressure; oh the pressure! It's suffocating. I can’t move my limbs, all I can do is push forward, and then....light. I scream. I wake up bleary eyed with the sounds of soft beeping around me. I’m still sore and tired, and I can’t make out Darwin, or Martha's face-- and the room is too bright to be the Tavern. Suddenly, two lumpy shapes stand over me. “Look at him, he’s perfect,” a feminine voice crones. I feel something brush my face ever so slightly. “Do you think his head will always be this cone shaped?” a concerned voice quips. A larger lump pushes the two out of the way, their hands are meaty and deft. “It's alright lad, that's just from getting stuck for a bit, It’ll round out in no time,” a hat is shoved onto my head. I try to move my arms, but they are held against my body by a blanket of sorts. I must be in the looney bin? I should have never told Darwin the truth. Suddenly, I'm lifted against my will, and float over towards one shape. The shape becomes clearer, and it’s a woman, who bombs me with smooches: ARGG, I hear a splitting cry. Wait a moment, that's me, me crying. I try moving my hands again. “Oh look at him squirm!” she says in between sniffing my head and kissing me roughly. “The doc measured his head and it’s in the 65th percentile,” said the voice excitedly, “he’s gonna be a genius!” I’m suddenly taken from her hands and I float again to my coffin of sorts. “Alrighty mum, you did a good job, I’m going to take the little fella to get his stats and I’ll wheel him right back.” What sort of hell is this. I still can’t see properly but I feel a growing discomfort: an emptiness of belly. I try to ignore it, I have more important tasks at hand. Like escaping my restraints. The ride is bumpy and I sway from side to side gently. The lump above me yells out to passerby’s. “Don, look at this one, ugly little cone shaped fella, eh?” Another lump suddenly appears above me and I hear cackles of laughter. “Little grubby aliens, the lot of them, I could never understand the appeal.” Another lump appears, “oh you hush Don, it’s precious, just look at him,” a hand pinches my cheek. The feeling registers and I understand, I’m starving. I need an Ale, I need meat! I start to whimper. “We better hurry, the little man’s getting hungry.” Large hands unwrap my body and start poking and prodding. I’m cold and hungry and pissed off. Hurry the fuck up will ya! I try to say, but I've got a bad cotton mouth, and I end up pissing myself. I’m wheeled back to the room and once again placed in the giant's hands. I will admit, this giant feels more like home. Her voice is nice. “He’s hungry lass, will you use a bottle or the breast?” “A bottle I think,” she’s twitching now. “Alright then! Here you are” Something is shoved into my mouth and I gag. It’s disgusting, but I don’t know how to not suckle it down. I can’t stop. “Why don’t you try breastfeeding him Nell.” “Cause it’ll hurt Bart!” “But the parenting classes said-“ “Oh fine!” Suddenly, the object is ripped out of my mouth and I’m thrust up against a large, soft mound that smells heavenly. “Can you show me how?” Says the voice close to my head, I start looking for that smell. “Like this dearest, you smash the nipple in their mouths as far back as you can go, and the little fellow will do the rest.” Before I know it, the fleshy mount is stuffed into my agape mouth and I begin swallowing. Oh, the sheer joy, the warmth, the taste! I can’t help from becoming drunk from the bliss. I’m warm and full and.... I wake up. Where are Darwin and Martha? I’m still restrained, and I can hear the two giants speaking, arguing. “We can’t name him that Nell, he’d be made fun of his whole life!” “But it’s cultural Bart, and better than Barthalamew,” she whispers close to my face. I agree, that’s a shit name. “Fine, Ryder it is.” “Ryder! What a ridiculous name!” I chortle in my head.” “Oh look Bart, he smiled! Our little Ryder,” she says, her face is inches from mine; she must of eatin a banana, I hate those blasted fruits.... Wait a fuckin minute....