Quiet Afternoon In Minnesota - Part Two

The Minnesota home settled into a complex evening quiet. Mike’s friends had departed, leaving behind a residual energy of earlier social interactions. The house seemed to contract, focusing entirely on the unique dynamic between Mike and Mitchell—a relationship defined by institutional care and personal control.

Mike moved with calculated purpose, his movements deliberate and precise. He lifted Mitchell from the toddler room, his large hands gripping Mitchell’s body with a mixture of professional detachment and something more complicated. The journey to the spare room felt like a carefully choreographed movement, the playpen waiting as a destination of contained existence.

Mitchell offered no resistance—a testament to his child-like submission, his adult body moving with the complete obedience of someone entirely dependent on institutional care.

Wrestling began with a deliberate roughness that spoke to deeper power dynamics. Mike’s movements were calculated, watching Mitchell’s already loaded pamper swing and sag with each calculated maneuver. The brown-stained pamper moved awkwardly, its contents shifting with each wrestling motion—a physical manifestation of Mitchell’s complete vulnerability.

Mitchell remained passive, his large body moving according to Mike’s precise instructions. The pamper continued to leak, spreading its contents with each movement. Each motion was a demonstration of complete submission, of a life existing in the margins of conventional understanding.

The wrestling concluded with a moment of crude intimacy. Mike dragged Mitchell to the bathroom, holding his head over the toilet. A crude question hung in the air—a test of Mitchell’s complete compliance. Mitchell’s response was immediate, unquestioning.

Returning to the playpen, Mike provided six bottles of warm milk. The ritual of consumption began—Mitchell accepting the liquid with the unquestioning obedience of a child. Each bottle disappeared quickly, a testament to his complete submission.

No bathroom break followed. Mitchell’s pamper, already messy, became thoroughly soaked and loaded—a final, visceral testament to the evening’s unusual interactions. The playpen absorbed another moment of Mitchell’s complicated existence.

Another chapter in a life defined by institutional control—messy, vulnerable, fundamentally human.