When It Rains, It Pours

Chapter 7
VII (Rebecca)

I’ve now exhausted my supply of cute little stories to tell you. Actually, there is one more, but it’s not finished. Enjoy:

As you might imagine, I haven’t been doing a lot of dating since I got this curse. A date doesn’t tend to go so smoothly when a spilled glass of water turns you into a middle-schooler. No, I was getting most of my jollies from magazines, bars (the strip kind), and whatever other outlets I could find.

That changed when I met Rebecca. I won’t tell you the details of our meeting and the subsequent series of events that led to us to have dinner together because of two reasons. One: you probably wouldn’t find it very interesting. Two: it’s none of your God damn business.

That said, we did have dinner, at a fancy restaurant no less. And, a week after that, we went and saw a movie. Another week after that, we went on a stroll through the park. After yet another week, we decided to have dinner again, at my place.

Honestly, I found it a wonder that our first three dates didn’t involve some kind of mishap. I knew something was going to happen when we were together, but I didn’t really care. I was so infatuated with her that I kept accepting her invitations without regard to the consequences.

She arrived promptly at 6:00, like she said she would. This was unfortunate for me, because I hadn’t completely finished preparing our dinner.

“Err, hi there. Glad you’re here. Come in, have a seat. I have to finish setting the table real quick.”

“Okay,” she said, quite sweetly. I retreated to the dining room (usually my TV room, but I had made accommodations) and finished preparing everything. I thought I did quite well: I had a pasta dish prepared, some salads. I even bought a thing of champagne and put it in the little ice bucket and everything.

I ushered Rebecca into my makeshift dining room and seated her. Rebecca is a very attractive woman, and I don’t say that just because she’s with me. She’s a little on the short side, but makes up for that by being large in other areas. Her hair is a rather brilliant shade of red, and is complemented by the red-framed glasses she wears. That night she was wearing a blue dress that showed off her cleavage and tan legs quite well.

“Ooh, this looks delicious,” she said.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that. I’d wait until you try it.”

She giggled, and we began eating. I could tell from the look on her face that she was incorrect in her “delicious” assumption. We chatted, talked about all the normal things we talk about (again, none of your damn business). As we concluded the meal, I poured us some champagne and suggested we go sit on my couch and talk.

And we did. We continued our conversation from where we left off, but only got halfway through our drinks before talking turned to more physical acts (the exact sequence of conversation that led to this is between me and her). We started with just kissing, but soon I was on top of her, caressing and undressing. She wrapped her arms around me, and I could feel her spill her drink on my back. No matter, I thought, we were drinking champagne.

Later I learned that she isn’t particularly fond of champagne, and decided to bring her glass of water with her instead.

We continued groping and kissing, and I felt that too-familiar sensation again. It didn’t really occur to me that I was regressing; all I cared about was being with her. You have to remember, I was denied anything like this for the past year or so.

I did start to recognize that something was happening as I slipped past my twenties and into my teens. I shrugged it off, thinking that she wouldn’t notice. My back didn’t feel that wet, after all. Unfortunately, she did start to notice when my lip started to feel more fine, then absolutely smooth. Her tongue paused for a moment, then continued.

I opened my eyes, checking to see if she had found anything else amiss yet. Her eyes were still closed, however. I nervously continued, praying that the regression would wear off soon and that she wouldn’t figure anything out. Unfortunately, my hopes were dashed. The regression continued, and I began to shrink as I reentered my mid-teens. Rebecca, being a smart girl, caught on that I suddenly didn’t weigh as much, my hands didn’t reach as far, and the mouth she was kissing moments ago wasn’t the same as this one.

She opened her eyes, and saw a thirteen-year-old staring back at her.

I thought she was going to scream. Instead, she fumbled around for her glasses, put them on, looked at me again, then screamed.

I clamped my hands around her mouth. “Shh, shh. Let me explain,” I said, my voice revealing me as a twelve-year-old in body.

She tore my arms away with a bit of effort. “What the hell is this? Some kind of trick? Who are you?”

“It’s me, Dameon.”

“You’re a little kid! Where’s Dameon?” she asked, frantically looking around.

“No, listen! Let me explain. I am Dameon.” She looked at me incredulously, but allowed me to continue. “Let me explain,” I repeated. Rolling off of her, I took a seat on the couch. She followed, taking a seat beside me. Sitting together like that, I saw that we were of about equal height.

“This isn’t a joke, right?” she said, sounding like she desperately wanted it to be.

I shook my head to signal a negative.

“How did this happen...” she asked, trailing off as she ran a hand along my face. “Oh my God, it is you. Same face, same hair, same eyes, but... you’re little.” She glanced down at my body, and I had to cover up a bit. My pants had been lost earlier: I was halfway done removing them before I regressed, then shrunk right out of them. I was left with an unbuttoned shirt and an oversized pair of briefs. Normally I wouldn’t have any qualms about revealing myself to my girlfriend, but I was a little uncomfortable with it when in a pre-teen’s body.

“The water you were drinking splashed on me,” I explained, trying to force my voice away from its girly soprano. “This happens whenever I get wet.”

“What? Why?”

“Err, it’s kind of a curse, I guess.”

“Uh, kind of like a Jusenkyou curse?”

“What the hell is a Jusenkyou curse?”

“Oh, it’s from this comic called ?Ranma ?’. Some characters in it are cursed to change when they get splashed with cold water.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I thought not.”

There was a moment of silence, then she started talking again.

“This would explain a few things about you, though.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like... I’ve never seen you drink water, you even stay away from drinking fountains and water coolers and stuff. And you always have that umbrella with you. Oh, and the time you didn’t want to go swimming with me. That’s the one date you’ve declined, right?”

“I had to pick someone up from the airport, remember?”

She saw through that lie just like she did before. “No you didn’t.”

Another silence. “So, how did you get this curse, anyway?”

I sighed, and told her the whole deal: how my curse worked, how I got it. She was fairly patient through the whole thing. I didn’t really have a problem getting her to believe me. I mean, she didn’t have much of a choice. After I was done, I was prepared for her to share some awkward dialogue with me and leave. She didn’t, however. Instead, she reached out and hugged me. It was then that I knew I loved her, and would love her for the rest of my screwed-up life.

Yeah, it’s corny. I know you’re rolling your eyes right now. I would too, if our positions were switched. But it doesn’t really matter to me. All that matters to me is I have something approaching a happy ending. Yeah, I know that was corny as well.

Rebecca and I have been together ever since. For some mysterious reason, she has accepted my condition. In fact, it’s more realistic to say she enjoys it. I’d have to take my shoes off to count the number of times she’s regressed me to younger than ten for no good reason. The number of times she’s deliberately doused me with water... I cannot count.

Usually she does it just to be playful or fun, but there have been a couple of times that she’s dumped a glass of water on me and stormed out of the room after a bad argument. She’s too gentle to take advantage of me or whatever using it. Some short examples:

The other week, I was minding my own business, reading the paper and reclining on my La-Z-Boy. I heard the door open, and assumed it was Rebecca coming to visit.

“Hi honey, what’s up?” Not two seconds after I said that, a water balloon came lobbing my way, splattering all over me and my chair (not to mention destroying my paper).

“Hey! This chair is new... ish!” I shouted at her as she entered the living room, clad in a revealing summer costume.

“Mmm, and you will be too, in a sec,” she said, holding my hand as her face lit up in reaction to my transformation.

“Oh, yes, right,” I replied, squeezing back. “Why?”

“Why what?” she pretended to ask.

“Did you splash me?” My arm hairs were gone by now, a fact Rebecca celebrated by stroking my arm.

“Oh, I dunno. But, I was thinking...” She rubbed my cheek. I could tell by the way she did that it was getting rounder as I ran through my teens.

“What was it this time?” I pulled my hand back and wiped the excess moisture from my face. I guessed from the feel of it that I was fourteen now (I’ve gotten quite good at this).

“How about we drive down to California this weekend and go to the beach or something? You could shrink down to, say, tenish, and we could pass you off as my little brother.”

She knew I wouldn’t go to the beach or pool with her on account of my curse. It was just too much of a risk.

“I’ve told you before,” my voice squeaked as I exited puberty. She giggled. “That wouldn’t be much fun for either of us. I’d have to moisten myself every so often to keep myself at sixteen-“

“Tenish, you mean. Nobody would recognize you then.”

“Twelve, and it’s likely that I’ll get wet and turn into a toddler or something. Then someone would see, get freaked out, or something-“

I was interrupted by her pinching of my chubby ten-year-old cheeks.

“Not to mention that I couldn’t really do anything down there,” I continued. “And, well...”

“Well what, Dameon?” she said, grabbing my hands again. She gripped my hands into fists, then started raising my miniature digits until they counted nine.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t say what was my biggest fear of going to a beach with Rebecca. The truth was, I would be greatly uncomfortable hanging around her as a preteen, while fully-grown men in swimming trunks took glances at her. Instead, I told her this: “Well, uh, I’m just really not comfortable with it. I mean, being this small for that long, in any situation.”

“Is that right?” she said, curling another of my fingers into a fist. Eight.

“Right,” I said, making a halfhearted attempt to divorce my hands from hers.

“Ah well, at least I tried. But now I got a cute little mini-Dameon to play with!”

“Cute? Why don’t you ever call me cute when I’m myself?”

She balled another finger into my little palm. Seven. “You know I think big Dameon’s cute too.”

“Fair enough.” I started to remove myself from the heap of clothing “big Dameon” left behind, but Rebecca did it for me. She chucked clothes left and right, and lifted me up with a bit of effort.

“So cute!” She pressed me close to her in an embrace, then held me up high as she spun around in circles. To be honest, it was kind of fun. Kind of like one of those carnival rides, except not as fast, and I was naked. She then plopped me down on the ground and kneeled close to me. “How was that?”

“Not bad. I think I’m going to throw up those eggs you made this morning, though.”

“You,” she smiled, mussing my hair.

Yeah, things like that happen. I swear, she likes me better as a little boy than anything.

A couple days after I revealed my condition to her, Rebecca went out and purchased a variety of squirt guns. She has quite a few, but there’s a little Super Soaker that she really likes. It’s not very big, so she can keep it around, and it squirts quite a bit. Also, her favorite part: it holds more than enough water to make me a preschooler. On occasion, she’ll make up these little “drinking games” with me, and squirt me whenever I do something or something happens on the TV or whatever.

Sometimes, she goes a little too far.

We were hanging out at her place, watching a movie. Suddenly, she stopped cuddling with me and reached out to grab that damnable squirt gun. She laid it on my lap and looked at me.

“Not tonight, baby. Today was rough.”

“Oh, come on,” she said in a honeyed voice.

I didn’t really have that rough of a day. I could not say no. “Alright. But let’s stop at thirteen, alright?”

“You just don’t want to be shorter than me!” she teased.

She was mostly right. “So is that a ?yes’?”

“That’s a ?maybe’. So, here’s the deal: every time she says she doesn’t like him, or he says he likes her, I pull the trigger.”

“Aww!” It was one of those sappy romantic comedies. The outlook was not good.

“And every time you complain about it, that’s a squirt.”

“Hey, be fair now. I’ll be in diapers by the end of the night.”

She picked up the toy, pumped it a couple times, and delivered a hearty spraying. “Keep it up, and you will be!”

“Remember,” I said. I had told her, as one of the ground rules, she could not regress me to infancy. I had explained my reasons to her, and she respected them.

“Yes, I know,” she said, quite seriously. “Oh look, he just said he loves her!” She doused me again. I could tell it was going to be a long night.

I had just recovered from the first two sprayings (leaving me at eighteen), and we had resumed cuddling. She slipped an arm up my semi-loose shirt and started feeling around.

“You should shave your chest, you know that? It feels much better this way.”

“I’ll consider it,” I grunted.

We kept watching the movie, me tensely waiting for our dull protagonists to say their chosen lines.

“Oh, is it really that bad?” she asked, probably noticing my discomfort.

“Yes it is.”

“Ha! Got you!” She let go of me and hosed me down again.

“Dammit!”

“Come on, this is too easy.”

“You cheated! I just answered your question, I wasn’t complaining.”

“Hey! That, just now, was complaining. But I won’t count it, because you kind of have a point.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she started pumping the colorful gun again. I shuddered, already hurting from the changes wrought by the last blast. My muscles were slimming away fast, and I saw the legs poking out from my shorts pale as the hair on them became no more.

Rebecca turned to kiss me, and said: “Why don’t you like doing this? Don’t you like having no stubble and all that?”

“But there’s more to it than that. I also don’t have any hair in my armpits, arms, legs, chest... it just feels wrong. How would you like turning into a little girl when you got wet? I don’t think you’d like it. Hell, I don’t think I’d like it.”

“That’s just because you wouldn’t get these to fool around with.” She pushed her breasts into me and guided one of my hands to cup one. I gave it a little squeeze. “Well, how do you think I like having my boobs felt up by a high school freshman?”

I quickly glanced down at myself to see if her assessment was correct. It was. My skinny body had lost all traces of its earlier manliness, and my clothing fit awkwardly. I was somewhat surprised she was still letting me play with her assets as much as I was. I would think the “ick” factor would be too much. “Huh. I never really thought about that. Well, you brought it on yourself.”

She made a vague shrugging motion, and kissed me on the lips. We went back to watching the movie. Not much later, the guy in the show stated that he loved the girl. I heard that familiar pumping sound, and soon my leg was quite damp.

“Aww... it was fun while it lasted,” I said, getting a quick kiss out of her. She nodded, and smiled.

“The fun is just starting, love.”

Not for me, it wasn’t. I got that strange shrinking feeling as my clothes and partner magnified around me. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see my sleeves gobble up my elbows, my socks become loose, or my pants’ waist make my belt trivial. After it was all done, I opened my eyes to see Rebecca’s bright ones staring back at me.

“I’ll have to ask you what that’s like sometime.”

“It’s not what you’d expect.” I gave her breast another squeeze, and found myself surprised at how little flesh I could grope with those little hands.

“That’s enough of that,” she said, gently moving my hands off of her body and sitting up. I sat up as well.

“Hey, come on! I’ve got to have some fun, too!” My voice cracked audibly, and I coughed to mask it.

“That sounds a lot like complaining to me. You want another squirt, squirt?”

“No, no more. I’m done for tonight. You’re already taller than me, what else do you want?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re shorter yet. You could stand another blasting.”

“No, I mean it. Please, I’d rather not get younger than this.” I was lucky to make it through Rebecca’s little game with one foot still in the pool of puberty, and wasn’t anxious to sacrifice that little victory.

“Please... I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” she said suggestively, sliding one hand under my voluminous shirt and stroking my thin belly. She took the Super Soaker and inserted it into the crotch of my loose pants. I swallowed hard, trying to figure out if she meant what I thought she was suggesting. Yes, I did have sex with her a few times before that, but coaxing it out of her was a mighty chore. Would I sacrifice all of my manhood for a short while for sex with my sweetheart? Yes.

As I was about to agree, she let loose with the squirt gun, drenching my loins with it. “Ack! That’s cold! I didn’t even say ?yes’ yet!”

“But you were going to,” she stated, removing the gun and rubbing my undeveloping face.

“Does this mean we can have sex tomorrow?” I squeaked, now having to look up at her.

“Of course.” She messed up my hair and kissed me on my forehead as I sank lower into the couch and into my clothes. This was always the hardest part: regressing past puberty with Rebecca around. I cringed inwardly as every trace of my manhood was erased. All my body hair degenerated to peach fuzz, and my proud member became nothing but an unthreatening peeing tool.

“Hee hee, I never get over how funny you look in your grown-up clothes,” Rebecca teased as I shrunk shorter and my limbs became chubby and unrecognizable.

“Yeah, it’s a real laugh riot,” I said, somewhat bitterly. I tried to tighten my belt to make my shorts stay on, but it wouldn’t go tight enough. I sighed, and left it.

“Complaining...” Rebecca reminded me, twirling the water pistol.

“Alright, alright.” My regression stopped just then. I held up my hands and looked them over.

“What do you think?” she asked. She was aware of my ability to estimate my own age.

“Eight, give or take.”

She chuckled. “How’s the view down there, shorty?”

I glanced to my side, noticing that I was boob-high to her. “Pretty good, thanks.”

She stood up. Suddenly I was a bit more intimidated by her. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” she said, hoisting me up by one arm. I lost my pants and underwear in the process, a fact she didn’t seem to be too bothered by.

“What are we doing?” I had to crane my neck to look up at her, a fact I could never get used to. She didn’t answer; she just guided me through her house by one hand. “Oh, hurry up. I don’t want to drag you. Wait, I wonder. Are you too heavy to give a piggyback ride to? Screw it. Come on, in this room.”

She yanked me into her bedroom, and she let me go as she rummaged around in her desk. “Ah, here it is!” She emerged with a digital camera.

“Wait, don’t!”

“Nobody will know it’s you. They’ll just think it’s a cute nephew or something who I let try on your clothes. Besides, I’m not going to show them to anybody.” With that, she started clicking away. I tried to shield myself with my hands, as if that would stop it.

“Ooh, I bet this would be just adorable!” Rebecca said, seizing a fisherman-style hat from her dresser. Without another word, she jammed it on my head. It obscured my vision, and I peeked out from under it just to see her kneel down and start snapping more pictures.

“Rebecca, stop! Please!”

“Ooh, this is just too cute!”

“Rebecca, I mean it! Stop taking pictures!” I shouted, stomping a foot down as hard as I could (which turned out to be not very hard).

She stopped, and moved in close to me. “And what are you going to do about it?”

I made a futile grab for the camera in her hands, but she was too fast. “No more pictures. Please?”

“Fine, no more pictures.” After saying that, I relaxed. She then pulled up the camera and took one, blinding me with the flash. “Except for one more, because you tried to take it from me.”

“Give me that camera!” I yelled, blindly grabbing for it. She easily caught my arms and pinned me to the ground. “Let go of me!” I said angrily, thrashing about.

“Not until you apologize, little man.”

“Rebecca, I’m serious! You’re taking this way too far!”

“No, you just take it too personally. Just lighten up, have some fun.”

“This isn’t my idea of fun!” I tried to break my arms free, and started kicking at her. I struck her good a couple of times, so she just sat on my knees and held my arms down.

She must have seen the fury in my face. “You don’t like being the one not in control. You want to have the power. You hate being helpless.”

She took my seething look as a yes.

“But if you’re stuck with this curse, you’re going to have to learn that you’re not always going to have the power, you’re going to be helpless sometimes.”

“Enough bullshit! Just let me go!”

“I’m not going to let you go until you calm down. Look, I love you. I’m not trying to be mean; I never am. You have a very unique gift, and I’m not going to let you waste it.”

She didn’t talk for a while, and I kind of calmed down. I realized my struggle was pointless, anyway. “It’s not a gift at all. You don’t understand. You don’t have to live with it. You only see the ?cute’ parts of it.”

“I think you make it out to be a lot worse than it is.”

“No, I haven’t told you all the bad parts yet, just the inconvenient bits.”

“What are the bad parts, then?”

“Do you have any idea how often I have to change jobs? I’m absent or late so often because of this, they tend to can me in a month or two. I can’t get a ?real job’ because of my poor work history, my limited education, and that bad luck thing.”

“Bad luck? Like the witch gave you? I thought you made that up.”

“It would be more likely that she made that up. I can guarantee that it’s pretty real, though.”

“So it’s terrible because you have to change jobs often? So?”

“I change jobs so much I make minimum wage when I can’t find anything better, which is often. I have very little money. In fact, I’m a few thousand dollars in debt right now.”

“But-“

“And that’s not the whole story. That’s just a side effect of this condition. I have to deal with being helpless, humiliated, and awkward on a regular basis.”

She took a few moments to let it sink in, and let go of my arms.

“I- I guess I didn’t consider all of that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I imagine it would be hard to understand for anybody else.”

She nodded.

“Could you get off of me, please?”

She stood up, and helped me to my feet. “I’m sorry to hear all that. But, don’t worry, we’ll make it through together.” She picked me up and held me close, kneeling again and cradling me for a good minute.

We sat in silence for a long time, long enough for me to grow back to seventeen or thereabouts.

“I should go,” I said, throwing her hat back at her. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

She just nodded, and I collected my clothing and left.

Things were rather different between us after that. They weren’t any worse, and they weren’t particularly better. She was just more respectful of my dislike for the curse, and I was more sympathetic to her desire to play with it. I learned after a while that she has quite a motherly streak, and I was the simplest and most logical way for her to indulge it.

Less than a week ago, I was sitting in Rebecca’s living room, talking to her (she was seated on the couch).

“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” she asked.

“If it is what you want, yes.”

“You won’t hold it against me? And you’ll cooperate?”

“I’ve told you, yes. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

She smiled. “Will this be enough?” She gestured toward a large jug of water.

“I think so. Less is better, of course. I never found out how young I can get.”

“Do you... think it could kill you?”

I looked away darkly. “It’s possible, but I don’t think it will be a risk with that much.”

“I have this dropper. I can use that to test after you dump that.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

“Shall we?” She stood up and extended her arm. I stood and hooked my arm with hers.

“To your porch?”

“Yeah.”

She grabbed the jug with her other arm, and we proceeded to her deck.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.” I confirmed.

“I love you.” She kissed me on the lips, lifted the jug over my head, and removed the cork. The contents of the jug came splashing down on my head, soaking every part of me. The tingling sensation overtook me, so powerful that I noticed it again. I had grown almost numb to it lately.

“Come inside, quickly.”

I paused to dry myself and my clothes off before entering her home, but Rebecca hastily pulled me through the door.

“It’s going quick this time! You look almost sixteen already.”

She was wrong. It felt like I was fifteen at most. The regression had been so swift this time that I hardly noticed missing the good part of a decade, but I paid careful attention to the changes that followed.

Within seconds the vestiges of teenaged maturity remaining on my body vanished. A moment after that, I went from a lad on the cusp of puberty to a cherubic gradeschooler. I could feel my muscles eroding away, sense the baby fat coming to replace them. My drenched clothing quickly became like a falling parachute around me. Most dramatic was my change in height. In the span of about ten seconds, I went from being a head taller than Rebecca to being eye-level with her belly button.

I looked up at her, seeing a distressed expression on her face. She bent down and tried to grab my shoulder, but only ended up with a handful of damp shirt as I shrunk even further into youth. A moment after that, I sunk from her view as I crossed the threshold into toddlerhood. If I had any time to inspect myself, I would have seen my limbs dwindle into pudgy little things, and my belly grow chubby as I approached infancy. Instead, all I saw was the folds of my clothing expand and collapse around me.

In another moment, it was all over. I had stopped regressing. I no longer felt the overpowering tingling feel that had accompanied me seconds ago. I tried to move, but my body was too weak to budge the moist folds of fabric around me. Fortunately, Rebecca lifted me out of my own clothes before I could become too claustrophobic.

“Dameon! Are you okay?” she asked gently, holding me close to her chest.

I was very cold. I crossed my tiny arms over my pudgy chest, or at least tried to. The actual motion I executed was more of an uncoordinated swinging of my arms toward my chest. “C.. Cowd,” I managed to say.

“Oh! You’re cold! Just a second, baby,” Rebecca said, rushing me over to the table where she had laid out several items in preparation of this event. She grabbed a blue blanket and wrapped me in it, drying and warming me. “How’s that, honey?”

I played with my mouth a bit before responding, trying to get used to speaking with it. Carefully, I said: “Good.”

She held me tighter to her and sat down on the couch. I was vaguely aware that she was staring at me, but I was too busy looking around and inwardly marveling at everything. Rebecca’s house, a modest-sized dwelling, seemed to be of cavernous proportions to me. The couch she was sitting on, which I normally could stretch out on and find myself cramped, was absolutely sprawling.

I didn’t get the feeling that everything was enormous, but that I was incredibly tiny. Nobody remembers what being a baby is like, so it’s difficult to describe exactly how it is. The biggest aspect of it, in my experience, is an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Not only was I small enough to be carried around by my girlfriend in one arm, but I had very limited control over my limbs. Moving my arms or legs was like trying to do so on one of those carnival rides where you’re in the thing that spins around and you are pinned to the walls. Everything was uncoordinated and clumsy, and it was next to impossible to lift anything except things of inconsequential weight.

Rebecca, who I normally viewed as my petite girlfriend (even though I had seen her from other “angles”), was absolutely gargantuan to me. Her delicate hands didn’t seem so small when they were wrapping around my body and lifting me with little effort.

“What’s it like?”

“Everwything’s so... big,” I responded in my squeaking baby voice.

“Mmm, I’ll bet. You warm enough now?”

“Yeaw.”

She stripped the moist blanket off of me, exposing my nude form to the warm breeze. Slowly, she lifted me up above her head. “Oh my God, you’re absolutely adorable!”

I looked down, and regretted it. I swung my little legs around, and said, “Hey, put me down.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, placing me in her lap. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“A wittle. I mean, little.”

She giggled. “I’m going to put you down on the floor, see if you can walk.”

She planted me on the floor. I was familiar with her house, but it seemed like a completely different world at that perspective. Furniture became like buildings, and her carpet was like a park’s grassy fields. I stood up easily enough, and tried to take a few steps. I stumbled around for a few in a kind of unsure waddle, then quickly fell on my behind. Ignoring Rebecca’s stifled giggle, I got to my feet and tried again. I made it a little farther that time before losing my balance and falling into a sitting position again.

Rebecca lied down on the floor and beckoned to me. “Try to walk over to me.”

I accepted her challenge, and started waddling her way. I only fell down three times before making it to her. She grabbed me, rolled over on her back, and placed me on her stomach. “What should we do now?”

I crawled along her body, resting on the hills of her breasts. “Um, maybe I can get some cwothes?”

“Sure. I have to get you in some diapers soon anyway.”

“Diapews? I thought we agweed, agreed, no diapers.”

“I don’t remember that. I can’t have you peeing all over my stuff.”

“Can’t we just...”

“No, diapers are the easiest way. Come on, you’re already a baby. How embarrassing can diapers be?”

I didn’t say anything as she picked me up and carried me back to the table with all the baby stuff. She set me down, and picked up a water dropper. “I want to see, real quick, if you can get any smaller than this. Don’t worry, I’ll only use a bit.”

She dripped a couple of drops on me, and looked at me in anticipation of a change. “Anything?”

“I don’t feew, feel, anyfing,” I responded. And I hadn’t: there was no telltale tingling feeling, and I couldn’t sense that my body was changing. She dropped a few more on me, and I shook my head. After that, she squeezed out the rest of the contents of the dropper on me. Still nothing.

“This must be the youngest you can go.”

“Must be.”

“I’d say you look about one year old, but I could be wrong.”

“That would be logical,” I admitted.

“Well, that’s something of a relief. I was wondering something, though. Why did you regress so fast when I poured the jug on you? It took, like, twenty seconds.”

“I was wondewing, wondering, that myself,” I said. “I guess it’s because I got so much on me; I’ve never gotten that wet at once befowe.”

“What about that other time you turned into a baby?”

“Oh yeaw, that’s right. It wasn’t nearwy, nearly, that fast before... maybe because this time it was all at once, probabwy.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Wait here, I’ll go get the diapers.”

“Wait!” I said, reaching out with a tiny hand. “There’s something I want you to do fiwst.”

“What’s that, sweety?” she asked, gripping my hands with her thumbs and forefingers.

“I want... I want you to give me a bath.”

She smiled, and picked me up. “I bet you do. I couldn’t imagine not having a real bath for a year.”

I just nodded as best I could. In a few minutes, she had filled the sink with warm water, and had soap and shampoo ready. She gripped me and held me over the sink. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

She dipped me in the pool, and I felt the tingling again. “Ooh!”

“Is it too hot?” she asked, concerned.

“No, just fine,” I replied.

The tingling stopped shortly after it began. I knew it was just me losing the time I had gotten back after being dry for a bit. For the first time in almost a year, I was submerged in water and wasn’t alarmed. It felt good. Rebecca rubbed me down with soap, shampooed what little hair I had, and playfully splashed me the whole time. After pronouncing me clean, she pulled me back out and gave me a thorough drying.

“How was that?”

“Wonderful,” I said truthfully.

“Good. Now, let’s get you in that diaper.”

“Aww, do we haff to?” I whined, lying on the fluffy towel, allowing the last bits of moisture to dry off me.

“Oh, come on. You said you’d play along.”

“Awright, alright.”

She scooped me up and took me back to the table.

“I had a baby sister, so I know how to do this. I think.”

She started slathering my body with lotion, turning me over and paying special attention to my buttocks and groin. As I might have mentioned before, I maintain all of my adult sexual instincts no matter what form I’m in. It would come at no surprise, then, that my infant tool suddenly stood erect.

Rebecca stared at it for a second, then pointed. “Aww, isn’t that cute?”

I feebly tried to move my arms to cover it somehow, but was unable.

She just smiled, and started powdering me. After she was finished with that, she lifted my legs up and inserted the diaper beneath me, fastened it, and sat me on my bottom.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Wearing a diaper was just like I expected. It was a bulky, crinkly, plastic and clothish thing around my trunk. It was bad. “This is absowute- absolutely humiliating.”

“Oh, it’s just us. Nothing to worry about.”

“Fine, fine. What now?”

We spent the next half hour indulging Rebecca’s motherly instincts. We played, she cared for me. Pretty boring stuff. After a while, though, I had to pee.

The urge came on suddenly. One moment, I was fine. The next, I really had to go. I held it in, but it was painful. “Rebecca, stop. I have to pee.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Take me to the baffwoom. Bathroom.”

“You’re the one wearing a diaper,” she said lightly.

“Rebecca, pwease! I can’t hold it-“ at that moment, I couldn’t. I let it all go in my diaper, soaking it and myself in warm urine.

“You just went, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” I replied meekly. “Ugh, this feews, feels gross.”

“That’s why I’m going to change you,” she said, lifting me up and taking me to our makeshift changing table. She quickly removed my soiled diaper, cleaned me, and fitted me with a fresh one.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, honey.”

I paused for a second, noticing something was a bit wrong. This diapering was too similar to the last. Frantically, I looked down at myself, looking at my arms.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

“Somefing’s wrong... I haven’t grown up at all yet.”

“Are you sure?”

“How long since you gave me a baff?”

“Uh, half an hour maybe.”

“I haven’t changed a bit since then! Somefing’s wrong.”

She lifted me a bit, and put me down. “You don’t seem any heavier to me.”

“What are we going to do?” I asked, panicking. I couldn’t stay a baby forever, not even a day.

“I... I don’t know. Just calm down, wait a bit.”

She radiated such calm that I was forced to stop freaking out. And so we waited.

“You know, if you don’t change back, I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

She was quiet after that. We passed the tense minutes not doing much. She stroked me, trying to comfort me. It worked.

About twenty minutes later, I detected a change. The band of my diaper was slightly tighter, which confirmed my suspicions that I had been maturing again over the past few minutes.

“I’m getting biggew again! I can tell!”

“Oh, thank God!” Rebecca said, lifting me to her chest and embracing me. I could tell she was honestly relieved. I knew she wouldn’t mind caring for me as a baby for however long it took, but she prized my happiness more.

We didn’t do any other playing around that day. I told her that I’d rather grow back up, considering what happened. Later we figured out that if I get wet when I’m already a one-year-old, it locks me in that state for a period of time proportionate to the amount of water I’m doused with. It was kind of scary at first, but it helps whenever Rebecca feels like being my mom like that.

That’s how it’s been since then. Rebecca has been my girlfriend, my confidante, my best friend, and occasional mother. Recently I asked her to marry me, and she agreed, on one condition. She wanted a baby. I didn’t. This wasn’t just because of the complications from my curse, but just my preference. I had to accept her terms, of course.

“What’s it say?” I said anxiously, as Rebecca exited the bathroom.

“Negative.”

“Again...”

She extended her arms to me. I embraced her.

“I’m sorry.”

“We have to go the doctor.”

Two weeks later, we got the results back from the fertility clinic.

“They say there’s nothing wrong with me. All my stuff is working fine.”

I leafed through the report. The contents made me cringe, but not because of the prognosis. “So there must be something wrong on my end, I guess.”

She nodded. Another couple of weeks later, I got my results back.

“Well, it’s like this. They say I’m almost completely sterile.”

“What? No, there has to be a mistake.”

“No, I believe them. They say there’s nothing in my medical history or in their tests that would explain it. They were quite stumped, actually. They wanted to send me to another clinic for some more tests, but I declined.”

“But why?”

“I know it has something to do with this curse. I don’t know why, but I can feel it.”

She wrapped her arms around me, and I could feel tears on my shoulder. I rubbed her back, and said, “Will we adopt? Or something else?”

“No, you know I would never adopt.”

We had discussed that before. She was against adoption and artificial insemination, and so was I.

“We’ll never have a child, then.”

She looked up at me with a tear-soaked face. “Yes we will.” She squeezed me tighter.

I squeezed back. “Yes. We will.”

 

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