Let It Go

Chapter 1
One

“I feel totally ready,” says the younger man.

It is an unlikely pairing. Two guys, divided by seven years of age and (at most times) an ocean, have come together in the United States to actualize a mutual desire-- and neither of them is in the business of wasting time.

“What’s your fantasy?” asks Trip, the older of the two, at twenty-seven. His smile is frozen upwards in an expression that implies I can do anything you want me to.

“My fantasy?” replies Joel, flopping onto a couch. “Kinda changes every day, depending on my mood. But I guess there’s an overarching theme. I really wouldn’t mind being a little kid again.”

Trip smiles, though it’s less a smile than it is an uncontrollable grin. “I probably could have guessed that if I’d put my mind to it,” he says with a facetious chuckle. The two friends most certainly have that fantasy in common.

Apart from that, the biggest thing they have in common is the enjoyment of each other’s company. Joel is tall and slender, easily topping his friend by at least six inches, with auburn hair that trends a little curly if he lets it go. Trip is a short guy with even shorter hair-- and a face that reminds his friends of Nick Stahl, to hear them tell it. Nick Stahl from Terminator 3-- not That Yellow Bastard.

Trip walks around the living room-- it’s like something out of the 50s, middle-American in aesthetic... Rockwellian, almost, with a shaggy brown carpet, stones comprising a fireplace, a mahogany coffee table, and a three-paneled brown couch behind it, atop which a certain cute destiny-seeker sits.

“Aye.” Joel props his feet up on the table and sighs wistfully at the thought. “And Drynites, lately. Something about that really seems cute.” He shrugs. “But I’d probably drive myself mad going over and over weird fantasies that can’t come true. Have before.”

Trip sits next to Joel on the hideous couch and puts one arm around him. “I’m in the business of making fantasies come true. Especially for my favorite little boys trapped in adult bodies and minds.” He brings the palm of his hand to Joel’s forehead, and the years begin to filter out of the 20-year-old.

Joel doesn’t even begin shrinking until he passes seventeen.

The young man’s eyes become dinner plates as Trip’s hand rests upon him. Somewhat mystical and definitely overpowering, a strange sensation overtakes Joel. He wants to say something but feels as if he’s being pressed back by heavy G-forces. He’s too puzzled to get any words out.

Trip smiles gently at his friend, as he’s used to doing, though there’s a sense of determination about him at the moment. “Just let it go,” he says. “Let it aaalllll go.” Joel is already collapsing into his clothes as he sinks back to 16, then 15; Trip pulls his buddy’s shirt over his head so Joel has access to all the air he needs.

“You can have your pants off now and watch it happen,” Trip offers, “or later, and not.”

“Wait-- what?” Joel seems not the least bit on board with the intricacies of the process. He twists around to look at himself, bewildered as the shirt comes off to reveal an uncommonly bare chest and tummy. “Watch what happen? Trip-- what are you doing?”

Trip grins adoringly at his pal. “I’m working on your dreams. What are friends for?”

Joel, having always been on the tall side, meets Trip’s diminutive height of 5’6”. Trip rests his free hand -- the one not sucking age out of the teenager -- atop his friend’s head.

“That’s a long way to fall,” Trip giggles.

He continues to drain years from Joel’s forehead-- his confused, but not altogether reticent, friend slipping back to age 14, then thirteen.

Trip converts Joel’s age into energy, as if receiving nutrition from an IV. “Pretty soon, those pants aren’t gonna stay on, whether or not you want them to.”

The regressing teen stares at Trip from where the older boy’s hand presses him against the couch. Joel’s dark auburn hair is taking on a lighter shade as he rejuvenates and shrinks. The understanding at the back of his mind of what’s going on dawns in his eyes.

“That’s... that’s not possible.” Even the voice denying his assertion is coarse with early adolescence.

“I’m full of surprises,” replies Trip, winking mischievously. As his friend slips out of pubescence, Trip pulls him out of his pants and sets him on his feet in front of the couch. Joel is still shrinking as Trip quite deliberately drags all the anxiety and worry out of him with his palm.

“Juuuuust let it go, Joel. Just let it go.” The boy is 11, then ten.

Joel is overcome with senses of youth and balance. He teeters precariously between the light adventurousness of childhood and the heavy introspection of adulthood. The boy lets his bedazzlement give out and, finally, just relaxes where he stands, buffeted by Trip’s supportive palms.

Completely naked, hairless, and feeling himself get younger and younger, Joel realizes Trip towers over him and the carpet is no longer so far away.

Joel’s voice, now boyish, comes out a little dazed. “S’not possible...”

Trip holds his friend gently to him, making sure Joel doesn’t take a tumble as he slows to a fitting age... just five years old, his body quite unlike the one he’d had before-- not only naked and largely hairless, but puffed out with baby fat and topped by a head of fine, blond hair.

“Now, that’s a little better, isn’t it?” Trip smiles at Joel, gazing into his eyes and stroking the boy’s sparse hair as the little one tries to adjust.

“I, uh...” Joel stammers, looking up at Trip. “It’s... it’s nice,” he admits. His voice is reminiscent of thin musical pipes.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Trip offers, bringing over a canvas bag of supplies.