Mission Accomplished

Captain’s log: Entry 440

Name: Ellen Huxley

Date: Indeterminate

Mission Status: Accomplished

As I write this most pivotal and anticipated entry, I can only think of pitying all the foolish souls who had doubted me over the years. History has a habit of giving its geniuses occasions to rise to, as well as obstacles to overcome. So, in my ocean of piety and wisdom, I extend my hand in forgiveness. Do not wallow in your foolishness. It only served to make my story better.

My story began one crisp Autumn morning, a day before I was born. However, going back that far will take far too much time. The wonders of my upbringing will no doubt be covered in both the novelization and feature-film of my life story, both of which destined for critical acclaim in themselves. For brevity’s sake, I will summarize the important parts. I was born to a loving family of two humble enterprise-owners/entrepreneurs. I made top marks in all my classes, only threatening to fall short in supplementary subjects like gym or art. My success continued into college, where I missed making valedictorian by two points (one of many injustices I will not be able to elaborate on). I had been accepted into my country’s esteem space program, thanks solely to my natural wit and tenacity. Those quick to slander my good name might suggest that it was instead due to my father funding the program with literal bags of money. My father is simply a man who cares deeply about the development of space science. The fact that he was unable to name a single astronaut over the course of several interviews, you may cite, is completely irrelevant. It is simply another vicious slander tactic propagated by my life’s most persistent villains: jealous poor people.

My time spent learning and training for the space program was unforgettable. Unforgettable, and rather boring. While I choose not to bore you with excess details (you are welcome) know that my supervisor always used me to set an example for others, which is always a good thing. I bet you are raring to hear the exciting accounts from my space voyage and interdimensional travels. Well, I was just getting to that part, so calm down already.

My supervisors implored me to be careful during my first solo mission, but I knew what I was doing. They told me to not travel past a set range of lightyears, but I knew better. They continued to blather on about protocols and safety hazards and other boring babbles that didn’t concern me at the time. I was out looking for discovery, not safe test flights. That became much easier when I put my supervisors’ communications on mute, not letting the background noise drown out my train of thought.

Admittedly, this next portion of the story is not one I am proud of. I know you’re simply dying to know how I came about the discovery of interdimensional travel. With a heavy heart, I must admit that the circumstances of that discovery are—for lack of better terms—foggy and random. Shortly after muting my supervisors, I found myself well beyond the measured range of distance that, upon a gut dropping reflection, they might have warned me about. To clarify, I was not lost in space. More accurately, I was temporarily directionally challenged in space. I felt the air in my lungs become tight. I didn’t even have the air to shriek in panic.

Not in panic. In a controlled and dignified spree of emotions. I had everything under control. And, in my spree of controlled emotions, I must have hit an unfamiliar combination of important buttons. Before I knew it, I had activated the hyper drive—or perhaps the warp drive—I had activated some type of drive, and the ship was rocketing off deeper in the unknowns of space. Admittedly, not the best way to open space journey.

I awoke in a daze, my head rattling like loose change in a bum’s coffee can. What was left of the computer’s display showed the atmosphere was breathable outside. I suited up and took one small step onto this strange new world. And that was when I met them. I had not even made it five feet outside of my ship before I made my first discovery. A pair of long, firm, gigantic legs. After that, I made my second discovery. The equally gigantic woman they belonged to. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by more women of equally tower-like stature. All eyes were on me—a trend not too different from my daily life. Even in the far reaches of space, my greatness was as plain as the hairs on my head. I suppose these are the consequences of being so special.

I don’t believe these people have a name. At least, not one that translates easily. Not one I’m liable to give. So, using what I know now, I give them one myself. I will dub them the Amazons, as decided upon right now, as I write this. Not to be named after that forest that I read about that one time in middle school. No, it is a reference to those tall ladies that I read about that one time in a comic book in middle school.

They look damningly similar to us. Only, as stated before, much taller. In fact, to the untrained eye, someone like me might even be confused as one of their children, as preposterous as that may sound. Unsurprisingly, they had strength to match their size. They lifted my rocket ship like a child’s toy off the sidewalk. After that, one of the massive maidens proceeded to lift me up like said child. When I felt the giant woman’s hand start to wander to places it dare not go, I responded with a few choice words. More than a few, actually. Tone must be a universal language, because she quickly pulled her hand back. I turned my head to see what the other giant space ladies were doing. The ones holding my ship seemed rather…unimpressed? Like my craft was as flavorless as yesterdays’ tomatoes. An idea crossed my mind, sometime after that, that I was not the first traveler from the stars to come their way. Perhaps my stellar entrance had some fierce competition from the past. To think, other lifeforms with space travel technology that put us to shame. It was rather disheartening to think about.

Now, based on media you may have consumed before reading this, you may think that a species of ultra-intelligent, ultra-powerful, giant aliens are something to fear. But I assure you, as you read on, you’ll find that the Amazons are nothing to run from. Even if you tried…sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me continue my case.

At heart, the Amazons are a gracious and curious people. After our initial meeting, they immediately took me in and examined me for what felt like hours. On that note, hours are apparently not a standardized unit of time here. I am still unsure how the Amazons record time here. This planet seems to have a regular day and night cycle, albeit one the looks to run longer than our own. I have since developed a new method for tracking time, which I will delve into later.

After a thorough examination, I was carried off to meet with the leader of these people. Now, while I am an expert on many subjects, architecture was not one of them, alien or otherwise. Still, I could tell this place was important. The building was like a fairy-tale castle that was made with modern sleek sensibility. I am not a fan of the term “futuristic”. How can you capture an aesthetic choice that does not exist yet? But everything about the Amazons screams science-fiction, leaving me at a loss for words. It is truly an indescribable place, and you will just have to see it for yourself.

I met with the queen, and she was immediately enamored by me. She was quick to take me into her arms and shower me with affection. She smiled brightly, bombarded me with kisses, hugging me tightly against her very, very large bosom. I can confirm that love at first sight is very real. Even if it was being shared by an interdimensional alien queen and a prodigal space explorer. In hindsight, it should have raised a red flag when the queen treated me, a foreign invader, like one of her kin. If my government had an alien land on our proverbial doorstep, we would have squashed it like a fly on the wall. Yet the Amazons took me in instantly and insistently. Oh well. Analyzing afterthoughts does me no good now. I doubt the end result would be any different.

From that day on, I never left the queen’s side. Not that she would have let me. The queen had an eye for quality. She always had me wrapped around her giant fingers, like a precious jewel. I had a front row seat to all the major happenings of Amazon society. True, I could not understand most of it. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was the queen’s special little space explorer. I was hand-fed the most extravagant meals by the castle staff. When the queen saw it fit, I was strolled around the castle grounds and even on the streets of the Amazon people. All eyes were on me, and I would not have had it any other way.

The Amazons had made a room for me, instantaneously. On my first day, the queen and her men took me to an empty room. A blank canvas. They fashioned me with a flashy-looking helmet, which beeped and hummed as stereotypically as a sci-fi device could. I stood there, while the queen held a tablet, quickly tapping away at a screen whose contents were invisible from my angle. The queen squealed with excitement, while I was left sitting in quiet confusion. I still remember how excited she looked on that day. How her smile threatened to shine brighter than the room itself.

And the room did shine. It glowed like the inside of a lightbulb, engulfing everything in a white flash. I was unable to tell if it bothered the Amazons as much as it did me. I had to keep my eyes shut to stop my corneas from being burned. I do know that the queen reacted before me, as I heard her let out an excited squeal. When I finally opened my eyes, I could not spare the same reaction.

It was a gigantic nursery, plain and simple. A supersized slice of home décor, fashioned executively by Amazon sensibilities. There were walls generated of pastel blue and pink stripes that did not make this room look any slimming. There was a window that generated a view of the outside world, made only so I could have a familiar perspective of time.

There was a crib, with bars that rose like pillars meant to hold up old important buildings. They were unscalable by design, to prevent any poorly plotted escape attempts. The crib’s mattress was soft and wide, big enough to comfortably accommodate four people my size, but I slept inside alright.

There were toys upon toys. More toys than I knew what to do with or would ever ask for. As many as there were, I all lacked in the fine details. Bunny rabbits with too many eyes. Duckies with misaligned wings. It would have been more noticeable had I not been swarmed with options. Too many, I was spoiled for options, but I was entertained alright.

There were books. Giant books in the language I still do not understand, that would have to be read to me during the day and before naps. My understanding of their language was still infantile at best, but I was learning alright.

There were diapers. So very many diapers. Diapers that puffed and piled out of their drawers, demanding to be worn. Diapers with coats of countless colors, always perfectly matching my current outfit, despite never staying on for long. Diapers with tapes the strength of industrial glue, that the Amazons could peel away with ease. They were thick and poofy and waddle-inducing, but they fit me alright.

The queen’s design was made to give her newest guest an unforgettable stay. And everything fit her alright. Better than alright. Everything fit me perfectly. That was just how she wanted it.

Now, at first, I did not appreciate this design. The reasons why currently escape me. The picture of my timeline from denial to acceptance is drawn with washed and faded markers. I know that I disobeyed the queen. I think that I yelled and screamed. I think I tried to escape, which sounds foolhardy as I write it down. I know that I was carried into another room, which was colder and menacing and obscure, I think. I know there was a machine there, I think was like a tanning bed. A scary, foreboding tanning bed. I know that I was placed inside. After that, my thoughts truly became jumbled.

When I came to, I was feeling much more appropriate. Much more appreciative. My thoughts were much less foggy afterwards. It was decided that I was ready to give my new room a second try.

I knew the result, and the burst of excitement I felt when looking upon my room the second time. This time, I said to myself “Hey, self, this place isn’t that bad. In fact, this place is wonderful!” The queen must have seen the sparkle in my eyes, because she shared the same one. I may not have been a communications expert, but we were both on the same page. Who knew I was this great with foreign relations?

The queen took great care as she laid me back for my first diaper change. My bare bottom was laid on an open diaper, that had to be a few inches thick. Softer than a cloud, the padding was a tricolor mishmash that demanded attention. Just like its wearer.

The powder she poured filled the air and dulled my senses further. It smelled of the sweetest flowers and worked wonders at masking any bad smells that came near that region.

She pulled together all three tapes on each side, nice and snuggly. It’s funny. Perhaps the problem was (this may be hard to believe) me. Perhaps I had thoughts about staying out of diapers? As nonsensical as those sounds. I understood then what had transpired in that room.

My queen had bottled away, or severed, or blocked all the rejection I had. And, in her ocean of piety and wisdom, left my mind with all the other thoughts that made me so special. Even alien machines fail to snuff out my award-winning personality. And, to make sure I stayed this way, the queen and her men added another special present to my room afterwards.

In the corner of my room sat a box. At certain times during the day(?) the box would turn on automatically. Every day, that box flashed swarms of bright color. Colors that don’t exist in normal circumstances. Colors that are transcended beyond green and blue and red primary hue. The best colors in the world. The room would fill with sounds that match the colors in evolution and captivation. I lie on my tummy and watch this display of a lifetime, every day.

I had lost countless periods of time watching that box. When I awoke, signal by the box turning off or the interjection of a staff member, I was always found in dire need of a change.

Oh, right! The changes!

Here, the passage of time is as persistent as it is undecipherable. My lessons on the subjects have been deemed the by queen to be supplementary. Still, having an idea for the length of my stay would be helpful. Clever girl I am, I have been tracking my time spent here, not in meals or steps, but in diaper changes. It was the obvious choice, seeing as how they happen so consistently and frequently. The increased frequency of diaper changes in recent times, however, may end up distorting my perception of my time here. Additionally, there are times, commonly after a nap, where I cannot confidently confirm if a diaper change has occurred or not.

Currently, I have been on this planet for three hundred and forty diaper changes. That number will soon increase to three hundred and forty-one. My diaper has taken quite a soak since I first began writing this entry, and a servant may come and check on me. Despite my advanced wit, I am not always able to tell when I have wet myself, or if I am ready for a change. The ones larger than me are much more adapt at telling when I need one. At the current moment, however, I am confident that my padding is sufficiently soggy enough to warrant one.

Now, I know that I thoroughly made my case for why living with the Amazons is a wonderful experience. Given that, I perfectly understand if all who read this would want to share it with me. Well, you are more than welcome to accept my humble invitation. I insist. Playtime was starting to get boring anyway.

The trip really isn’t all that complicated.

The Amazons are much more learned than us when it comes to space travel. After I arrived, it did not take them long to find the exact location of my old home, lightyears away. Lightyears were like inches to them. I told the queen, best as I could, about a few familiar faces I thought should be aboard the first flight. Ones who are no doubt reading this. Ones who I will not list, so as not to spoil the surprise. Sure enough, she was able to pull them up on a display in real time. Lightyears away, but the picture was crystal clear.

I don’t know how the Amazons will come. It still feels too early for a mass invasion. Though, they are no doubt equipped for one. In a war of the worlds, Amazons come out on top, in every simulation.

I imagine one-on-one abductions would be the likely answer. Perhaps in the dead of night. Maybe even in broad daylight, if someone here is feeling impatient. Imagine minding your own business when poof! You find yourself in the arms of a loving Amazon who knows what they want and will never let it go. Speaking from experience. I believe it will become a reality sooner than you can predict. Prepare yourself for culture shock. Amazon adoptions will send you for a whirlwind. Abductions or adoptions? It’s just a matter of perspective.

That is the other reason I am writing this address. I am expecting a slew of new playmates. When you finally get here, you all better be on your best behavior. There are plenty of jealous Amazons here who want their own little Ellen Huxley to hug and coddle and pamper. When you eventually get here, don’t make me look bad. Do what your Amazon says. Let them dress you, feed you, change you. They all clearly know best. They would not have been able to find us so easily otherwise.

When you inevitably get here, get comfortable. I have a hunch that the trip is one way. You might as well enjoy this new age of space travel. If not, well, Amazons have ways of pulling out combative urges, and pushing the sweet dispositions to the front. Again, speaking from experience.

To end this entry, I will leave with a tutorial that will prove exceptionally useful during a lifetime in the Amazon’s world: messing your diaper. Now, don’t shy away from this. A full diaper will find its way to you before you know it. You might as well get some pointers from an expert while you still have the chance.

The trick is to distract yourself. Don’t focus too hard on the mechanics, less you psych yourself out. When your body gives the signal, if your body gives the signal, hunker down and get ready. Stare off at a spot in the distance. Fancy wallpaper. An old toy. A patch of flowers. It does not matter exactly what. Your body only needs one push before everything falls into place. Remember to breathe, take a minute to recompose yourself if needed.

And voila! A full diaper, ready for changing. Believe me, it gets easier, and will soon become a thoughtless action. Something to note: While the powder easily masked the scent of a full diaper, it does nothing for the weight or the feeling.

Now, I must bid you adieu. It appears my instructions proved too effective, and my need for a change has become much more dire. Nothing to worry about. Dropping off important cargo is all in a day’s work for a prodigal space explorer. I will wail into my monitor, alerting the staff to pick up the pace.

Just remember, when face-to-face with your new Amazon, use every trick I taught you for an easy adjustment period. And when you finally realize how much good a lifetime spent with an Amazon can do for you, tell me all about it during our latest playdate.

Seeing you soon,

Ellen Huxley