A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 7
Demotions of Childhood

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We were done shopping in about an hour after piling enough items in our cart to accommodate my new smaller size.  The PJ’s I picked out were a two-piece outfit of plain soft cotton with long sleeves and legs.

As we exited the checkout area, Sammantha made a suggestion.  “Sweety, there wasn’t much lasagna left.  Shall we stop at McDonald’s on the way home?”

“Sure, Mom.  That sounds good.”

I was really starving by then.  It had been a long evening, and we went inside to order.  It felt weird not having a wallet or any money on me.  The ‘Porsche lady’ would continue treating, though not due to my choice.

“I’ll have my usual please, Mom … a Big Mac meal with Coke as the drink.”

Sammantha immediately corrected me.  “Sweety, you’ll be drinking milk this time.”

I was getting annoyed again.  “But Mom, I always drink coke.  You’ve gone out with me before.”

She bent down and spoke softly in my ear.  “Would it help if I explained to you the reason why milk is healthier than soda for a growing child?”

Her last ‘explanation’ was very painful and I had no desire to repeat the experience. I just wish she would stop referring to me as a ‘child’.  “No, I believe you, Mom.  Milk is better.  I can drink milk.”

During the meal, we made small talk about all the clothing we had purchased at the Goodwill.  And in keeping her promise, Sammantha pulled into Walmart to pick up my tighty whitey cotton underpants, boys size 12.  From there, we had an interesting conversation in the car on the way home.

“Mom, will I ever get to be an adult again?”

“Sure, sweety, but let’s give this arrangement a try first.  From what you’ve been telling me, that ‘adult thing’ wasn’t working out too well for you.  What were those symptoms you said you had that caused you to come in to our clinic?”

I really didn’t want to repeat them, but she did ask me, and I replied in my high voice, “I had depression, anxiety, loneliness, and suicidal thoughts.”

“Oh?” she replied with a bit of surprise.  “I didn’t know about that last one.  Those are some pretty heavy duty burdens for one person to be carrying around.  So tell me, would you rather be a miserable, lonely adult … or a happy little boy living with a mom who loves you?”

I shrugged.  “I guess I’d rather be a happy little boy.”

Sammantha found my response unacceptable.  “You guess?  Sweety, if this is going to work, I’m going to need a bigger commitment than that from you.  I want your honest feelings for sure, but I also want a real answer.  You need to make a decision.  You need to choose a path.”

The pressure that Sammantha was now putting on me was intense.  Why do I even need to make a decision now?  I thought about all the warnings Daniel gave me.  Sammantha might be strict, but she was never mean.  Was this the time to use the ‘nuclear option’, meaning insisting on my adulthood and asking her to leave?  That option scared me.  What if she refused to leave and turned me into another ‘Daniel’?  I’m the one who chased her down to the elevator and asked her to stay with me.  I think that returning to adult misery scared me more.

I took a deep breath.  “I’d rather be a happy little boy with a mom who loves me.”

Sammantha glanced over at me with a smile.  “Good choice, sweety.”

I followed up, “But Mom, do you really love me?”

“I do, sweety.”

“But why?”

I’ve always wanted a little boy of my own to love.”

“But why?”

“Are you sure you’re not four years old?  That’s usually when the ‘why-why’ phase kicks in.  It’s a long story, and I’ll be happy to tell it to you, but just not tonight.  I think we’re both pretty tired.  For now, I just want u to enjoy your exciting new life.  How many people get to re-live their childhood?”

(My childhood was a train wreck, …, I’m not sure how re-living it could be any better.)

“Mom, will you be moving into my apartment?”

“Well, since you said you wanted a mom who loves you, don’t you think it would be a good idea if I did?”

“Oh, yes … Do you think we should buy a new bed?”

“That’s a good idea, sweety.  In fact, we’ll need to buy two beds.”

“Why two?”

“Well, one for me and a smaller one for you in your boy’s room, the second bedroom.”

I was mortified.  “Wait, you’re kicking me out of my own bedroom?”

“Sweety, it wouldn’t be right for a child to be sharing the marital bed with his mom.  You’re going to want your privacy … to do what boys do.”

“You mean jack off?”

“Whatever a boy wants to do in private.”

“Why can’t I keep the big bedroom … and you can take the smaller one?”

“Now you’re just being silly.  Who’s the parent here and who’s the child?”

I was starting to think I made the wrong decision.  My tone was getting snippy.  “So Mom … if I have to sleep in the boy’s room, are you also going to tell me what time I have to go to bed?”

“Good question, sweety.  I’ve given it some considerable thought, and I’m assigning you a bedtime of 8:30 pm.”

“What?!” I spoke with alarm.  “Mom, I’m not a child in real life.  There is no plausible reason why I would need to go to bed at 8:30.”

“Sweety, children need a lot more sleep than adults.  And if you begin this regimen now, then you’ll be used to it by the time you start school.”

“SCHOOL?!!”  Waves of adrenalin and hot blood shot through my body with such intensity that I thought I would pass out.  The little hairs on my neck stood out.  I wanted to scream ‘What the fuck!’, but held my tongue to avoid a most certain punishment.

“Mom,” I squeaked out through tears.  “I’ve already been through school.  If I go back to school at age ten, then I’d have to be put in fifth grade.”

“Are you smarter than a fifth grader?” she mused.

“Mom, that’s not funny.”

“Well, sweety, you can’t just expect to mope around the apartment all day doing nothing. Look, tomorrow we can go furniture shopping together and you can pick out everything you’d like for your room.  It’ll be fun.”

Fun?  Maybe for her.   I have to participate in my own demotion.  I never thought Sammantha would be taking this role play so seriously.  I figured that maybe ‘mom and son’ would go out to a movie, have lunch, and then go back to what we were doing on our first two dates.  I liked the idea of her moving in with me, but now she’s taking over my bedroom and telling me I have to go to bed at 8:30?  I mean, what the hell?  This totally sucks.  But I still have to tread lightly.  It’s like walking on eggs.  I never know what might piss her off if I back-talk.  I found out at the Goodwill that she spanks really hard … and that was only one swat.

“Mom, why are we stopping at CVS now?”

“I’m going to pick up a few gallons of milk, sweety.”

“Oh, okay … I said I would drink my milk.”

“No, this isn’t for drinking.  I never told you this when we were dating, Derrek, because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.  But you need a bath.  You stink.  And now that I’m your mom, I want you to have those fresh little boy smells that are pleasing to the olfactory senses.”

“But Mom, earlier your words were ‘how is it that you don’t stink’.”

“I was trying to be kind, Derrek.”

It seems that when Sammantha calls me by name, she’s getting ready to scold me.  I couldn’t feel much lower than I did now.  And I certainly couldn’t put forth an argument in defense of my body odor.  It just felt so childish … that my mom has to give me a bath.  But she did have a point.  I hadn’t taken a real bath or shower in a long time.

When we got back home to the apartment, she said, “Go get undressed now while I warm up the milk.”

I went back to the room which won’t be my bedroom anymore and started taking off my clothes.  Sammantha had of course seen me naked enough times, but it seemed weird this time because I was the only one who had to get undressed.  I stared at my skinny, hairless body in front of the full length mirror and realized how little muscle mass there is on a ten-year-old.  I remembered how, at age 15, I gained 50 pounds and 5 inches in height in one year.  It’s very unsettling being reduced back into the body of a child.  I felt weak and vulnerable.

I stepped into the tub and waited nervously.  In a few minutes, Sammantha returned with a large pot of hot milk.  I could see the steam.

“Touch the milk, sweety, and tell me if the temperature is comfortable for you.”

I did so and licked my fingers.  The milk was not scalding.  “Feels good, Mom.”

She pulled up the stopper handle so that any liquid in the tub would not drain.  “Okay, you can take a seat now.”

“AAAAHHH!!”  I wasn’t expecting her to dump the entire pot on top of my head all at once.  This is what they do to football coaches with Gatorade after they win a big game.  But the hot milk did feel really good on my body and caused me to grin.  It was a new experience that I kind of liked.

I stretched my legs out in the tub as Mom got to work shampooing the only hair I could brag about … and I had a lot of it.

“No haircuts for you, little man … ever,” she said, smiling.  “This big mop sends your ‘cute factor’ through the roof.  I could eat you up, you’re such a ridiculously good looking little boy.”

I broke out into another wide grin when she said that … and kept the grin as she dumped buckets of warm milk on my head to rinse my hair.  It all felt so good.  I didn’t know that soap will lather up with milk just like it does with water.  Samantha lathered up a wash cloth and began scrubbing every square inch of me.  She scrubbed pretty hard, but I didn’t mind … that is until she got to my crotch.  She gave me a ‘look’, then poked at my scrotum.

“Derrek, this is where boys have the biggest problem with odor.  It’s where you sweat the most, all around in here.  This is pretty disgusting.  When was the last time you washed your penis?”

No one had ever asked me that before.  My grin turned into a sheepish look, but I wasn’t sure how to respond.  I thought about telling her that she cleaned it herself when I shoved my cock down her mouth during rough sex.  There were probably a lot of things I could have said that would have earned me a spanking.   I just shrugged my shoulders, and drew my legs together.  “I don’t know.  I never kept track.”

Sammantha left the bathroom and returned a minute later with a paper calendar from the kitchen.  She check marked today’s date with a sharpie marker and noted, “Now we’re keeping track.”

I was a little embarrassed by the special attention to my package, and she ordered me, “Spread your legs apart.”

I obeyed.  (as if I had a choice.)  I wasn’t trying to hide my new boner.  It just came up and I have no control over it.  But now, instead of using a wash cloth, she just soaped up her hand and it went diving into every crevice in my groinal area.  It didn’t feel sexy.  I was just a dirty little boy that had to be thoroughly cleaned around his privates.  Again, I felt childish.  Couldn’t Sammantha have let me do this part myself?  She reached underneath and put a soapy finger in my rectum.  Now I really felt ashamed.  For rinsing, she petted my penis (bottom to top) about the same way one would pet a dog’s head.

“Okay, stand up.”

I steadied myself on the side of the tub and as Sammantha took one of my hands for balance, I stepped out onto the rug.  She used a big towel and fluffed me all over with it.  Then she did what all parents do, although I wasn’t expecting it.  She put her mouth over my belly button and blew hard like a farting noise (blowing raspberries) … and she was satisfied that it got me giggling. Then she turned me about-face and lightly slapped my buttocks.  “Go put on your new PJ’s,” she advised.

“They’re not new, Mom,”

“They’re new for you, sweety.”

Like a good boy (yuck), I put on my PJ’s.  Then I went to pee and brush my teeth.  I brought my penis through the fly and I didn’t care that Sammantha was watching me.  But I had some trouble aiming it because I wasn’t used to handling such a small ‘fire hose’ with small fingers.

“Do you need some help with that, sweety?”

“No, I’m good, Mom.”

She leaned against the vanity as I grabbed my toothbrush and she asked, “How often should we brush our teeth in this family?”

(This family?  Since when did we become a family?)  “Every night before bed, Mom,” I answered in my high voice.  I was barely tall enough to see my face in the mirror.

She shook her head.  “Sweety, it’s twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. You don’t want to get cavities … and don’t forget to floss.”

“Okay, Mom,” I gurgled, being careful not to get water on my skin.  I was hoping she might forget about that … but no such luck.”

“And most importantly, sweety, one teaspoon of water on your wrist in the morning and one in the evening to maintain your age … and I have to witness this, no exceptions.  Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, Mom.”

I held out my hand and she spilled a teaspoon of tap water on my wrist.  I hardly felt a thing.

Then she put her hands on my shoulders.  “Sweety, since you don’t have your own bed yet, I thought we’d do something fun to celebrate our first night together as mother and son.”

When I heard that, my body started shaking.  She had put me through so many humiliations in one evening that I felt certain she had saved the worst for last.  Maybe she was planning to throw me back under the showerhead and turn me into a baby … then put a diaper on me and put me in a crib with a pacifier.

“Let’s have a naked sleepover.”

“A what?  Did I hear you right?  What do you mean, Mom?”

“Come on, sweety.  Turn out the lights.  We’re going camping.  The white sheet is our tent and we have to stay under it.  Then we take off our clothes and get all ‘touchy-feely’ under the tent … maybe a little tickling too … then we can ‘spoon’ and fall asleep together.”

My jaw dropped.  I couldn’t believe this was my mom talking, but the game sure sounded like fun.  “Really, Mom?!  Like right now?”

In the darkened room, she grabbed my hand and whisked me under the ‘tent.’  We immediately began taking off each other’s clothes.  (I only had two pieces.)

“And try to be a little gentler on my boobs this time, you little pervert,” she laughed.

Now all the wonderful memories of the clinic waiting room came flooding back into my brain … and I remembered why I loved Sammantha’s body so much.  TV shows think women should all have huge tits and asses.  Sammantha was a slender hourglass with six-pack abs and not an ounce of fat anywhere.  My small hands delighted in exploring what I knew was perfection in the female form.  And I was in awe of her length.  It would be like the adult me dating a woman seven and a half feet tall.  (Although Sammantha was 5 foot 8.)  Her muscles were not exaggerated, but all were smooth and hardened.  I recalled how much my hand hurt when I tried to spank her glutes during rough sex.  And I mustn’t ignore those world class boobs.  She really didn’t need to wear a bra.  Her assets supported themselves.  Few grown women larger than an ‘A’ cup can pass the pencil test, but she did.  Nothing sagged.  Because of that, at my current child’s height, I would have to be careful standing next to her when she’s nude.  She could poke my eye out.

There was nothing rough about tonight’s sex play.  I was just so grateful that she was allowing me to play with her body.  I enjoyed running my miniature hands through her pussy hair and giving a little tug.  But it didn’t take Samantha too long to figure out that my tummy was really ticklish, and she went to work on it.  She held me down easily and I kicked my legs in protest as I laughed.  When I managed to escape, she was laying on her back and I jumped on top of her …  and rested my head between her breasts.  They made nice pillows.

Then came the surprise of the night.  Sammantha grabbed onto my hips and I thought she was going to tickle me again. But instead, she maneuvered my little body till she could shove my boner into her vagina.  I wasn’t doing any work.  She just kept pushing my body forward and back, rubbing the tip of my penis against her clit.  But my tool was too small now to generate any friction in her tunnel.

So she held me tight and flipped over, reversing our positions.  Now I was on my back and Sammantha was ‘riding the pony.’  She had all the control needed to bounce up and down on my boner, constantly changing the entry angles in and out of her pussy.  This method created enough friction to send me into ecstasy and call out, “No no no no no!” as my body thrust upward and my organ throbbed.  Technically, nothing was ejaculated since I was only ten and couldn’t shoot cum.  But it still felt just as wonderful to me.

We didn’t talk.  Sammantha leaned forward on her elbows and kept that position till my organ shrunk out of her pussy.  Then she whispered, “Don’t you ever fuck your mom again, you naughty boy.”  Then slowly, she arranged our bodies on our sides in the spooning position where she then laid her right hand around my tummy … and moved it around in circles.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so peaceful and contented.  My smile beamed. 

Her hand moved below to my thighs and buttocks … she stroked them back and forth. Our ‘naked sleepover’ made me believe that Sammantha was going to be one of the ‘cool’ moms and I had nothing to fear … or at least one of the horny moms.  Our evening ended when she cupped her enormous hand around my package.  After she gave me a few friendly squeezes, I could hear her snoring lightly … and that was fine.  It was time for sleep.