Chapter 4
Where's Derrek?
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Hero time came and went.
The hour seemed to fly by and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed
it. I made my last powerful thrust
pushing her entire body an inch toward the head of the bed. She made her last ‘woooo’ grunt in fake pain
and I finally ejaculated into her pussy.
It was sweet. But we were two
beat up bodies.
I was exhausted and I simply let my full body weight drop on
top of hers. She made no complaint. We remained in that position for a full five
minutes, breathing heavily, until I mumbled, “Are you going to say ‘break’?”
She mumbled back, “I figured I would let you do the honors.”
“Okay ……………. Break.”
A few seconds later, I rolled off of her, but kept breathing
hard.
She released the handcuffs herself and commented, “I hurt
really bad, Derek.”
That concerned me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for …”
“No, no,” she stopped me.
“This is exactly how I wanted to feel.
You did great. This is the point
where I would take out a cigarette and have a smoke … except I don’t smoke.”
“I forgot to use a condom.”
“No problem, I’m on the pill. And you know, Derrek, we’re both so sweaty
that I think we should shower together before I go.”
(Holy shit, I cannot let a great evening end in
disaster. What kind of lie could I get
away with here?) “I’m sorry, Sammantha
but my shower’s not working. I’ve been
bugging the maintenance guy to get up here and fix it for several days now.”
“That’s okay. I’ll
just shower at home.”
“Sammantha, I want to thank you for just a fabulous evening,
both during and after dinner. I never
thought that I would actually enjoy part two, but I did … a lot.”
“You’re the best, Derrek.”
“Just a suggestion, but if we ever got together again, do
you suppose that maybe we could engage in normal, mad, passionate, tender love
… without the violence?”
Samantha, her beautifully toned and slightly bruised body
still lying naked beside me, closed her eyes and smiled. “For you, Derrek, that would be a ‘yes’. I’ll pick you up Saturday at seven.”
Saturday night turned out to be another ‘win-win’ for both
of us. After another nice dinner,
Sammantha proved that she was equally adept at traditional love making as was
in her role as an Amazon warrior. There
was nothing she wouldn’t try, and fortunately, neither of us was interested in
going through the ‘back door’. That just
reminded me of prison movies where someone drops the soap.
She happily gave me blow jobs and occasionally used her
teeth, playfully reminding me that she could bite my cock off any time she felt
like it. She also gave me ‘naughty’
spankings over her knee which felt great and very erotic (not so great when my
mother used to do it to me). But she still insisted that I ram her cunt with as
much thrust as possible. It was how she
got her orgasms … and why she continued to do the ‘woooo’ grunt of the women
tennis players.
Despite all my personal problems, I did happen to be endowed
with a gift, a near limitless supply of testosterone and semen, the main cause
of my frequent boners. We made love
twice during the evening and once again at 6:00
am. (Yep, she stayed
overnight in my master bedroom.) Sammantha said that having sex with me was
like using the ketchup pump at Wendy’s … a bottomless pit.
“Derrek, I swear, you must be suffering from ‘priapism’.”
“Pria – what?”
“You’ve seen the commercials. If you have an erection that lasts over four
hours, you should see a doctor right away.”
I answered, “Well, you’re a doctor … and here I am.”
On Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, we skipped the pretense of a
dinner and went straight to the sex. She
said she was getting comfortable coming to my place and we started talking
about having her move in with me. My
life had taken an ‘about-face’. I felt
terrific having a goddess in my bed every night. And I no longer needed Dr. Frumpy and her
‘shrinkatorium’. And since I wasn’t
jacking off anymore, I certainly didn’t need that Dr. Dick and his
‘masturbatorium’.
“All that was bullshit, Derrek.”
“What was?”
“There’s no such thing as a masturbatorium. Frumpy was just sending him business cause
‘Dick-head’ is her brother-in-law. You
really think males need instructions on how to spank their monkey? They’re running a racket. You need to call up
and cancel your appointments tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that … In the meantime, would you be
amenable to coming over a little earlier tomorrow? I’d like to prepare us some casual dining in
my kitchen. I’ll admit I’m not much of a
cook, but when I heat up frozen lasagna, I have to say it’s pretty tasty.”
“That sounds great, sweety.”
(Hear that? She
called me ‘sweety’.)
She continued, “We can imagine we’re at the Trevi Fountains
in Rome, getting ready to toss in
our coins and make a wish.”
“I already know what I’ll be wishing for, dear.” (Hear
that? I called her ‘dear’.) “And I have a pretty strong hunch that my
wish will come true soon after dinner.”
She licked her lips and smiled at me. “I get off work at
five and I’ll be over shortly after. I’m really looking forward to my evening
with ‘Chef Hamlish’, the iron chef of Italy.”
I’m not sure why, but I tried to cover up my boner.
I was so full of nervous energy and excitement when my
Amazon princess tapped on my door Wednesday evening. I had lit two candles on the kitchen table
and hoped that everything would be nice enough for a special, albeit casual
dinner. I wore a long sleeved white
shirt and khaki pants. She presented
herself in a halter top, almost like a sports bra, with sweat pants and a bare
midriff. Well I did say it would be a casual meal. Should it be illegal for a woman to have
six-pack abs? They took my breath away.
She giggled, “Derrek, I’m up here,” trying to redirect my
line of vision to her face.
We engaged in a light kiss and I directed her to her open
seat which I then slid forward. Per usual,
I opened a coke for me and a bottled water for her.
“Well thank you. Oh,
you’re being such a gentleman tonight.
What’s the occasion?”
I stared at Sammantha with a peaceful, easy gaze. “The occasion, dear, is my humble attempt to
say thank you for inviting me on that unusual first date … and for every day
thereafter. My depression … gone … my
anxiety … gone … my loneliness … definitely gone … And my self confidence has
risen to a level that I’ve never before experienced in my life. You’ve taught me what it means to be a man. My future … which may or may not be our
future … looks very bright.”
She smiled back. “Wow, it sounds like you’ve got the world
by the balls.”
“Oh, I do,” I answered, “And that’s the way I like it.”
“In that case,” she replied, “let me say ‘congratulations’
and ‘you’re welcome! But I’m afraid I’m
now going to have to charge you more than Dr. Frumpy did.”
I chuckled heartily.
“Oh, I love your sense of humor … and now, I hope you love my lasagna.”
I was pleased that the lasagna came out perfect, because
that was about the full extent of my cooking talents. As we downed bite after bite and looked into
each other’s eyes, I felt a new pressure on my groin to which I was not
ordinarily accustomed.
(Yikes!) Under the table, Sammantha had slipped off her
right shoe and was playing ‘footsie’ with my male member. Her stockinged toes were petting my cock as
if it were a little dog. I’m not sure if
she noticed the blank gaze in my eyes or the fact that I had stopped
eating. She couldn’t possibly have
missed the subtle ‘boing’ effect when her manipulations caused the sudden
awakening of the dragon.
All of my muscles became tense and I couldn’t help moving in
rhythm as I lifted my body one inch off the seat and then back down. In a sense, I was humping her foot. Beads of
perspiration trickled down my forehead.
The intensity persisted to a point where I could no longer sustain this
position without release of my load.
As Sammantha took a sip of her water, I hurriedly shoved
myself away from the table and headed toward the living room sofa. She was so quick to respond to my cue, that
she burst ahead of me and plopped her entire body along the length of the sofa,
face up, and was there to catch me as I descended upon her.
There was no foreplay this time. We were both like wild animals in heat. I wasted no time ripping off her halter above
her head and then lunging down, placing two powerful grips on her ‘super boobs’
… boobs of steel.
She responded in kind with a forceful hug around my
torso. My next move would have been to
unbuckle my pants and start plowing … but something odd happened. You see, she
had run to the sofa with the bottle of water still in her right hand … and her
arm had hung over the sofa to the floor, so I didn’t see it … and the cap was
off. So when she went to hug me, the
water began to spill out, all over the back of my shirt … and very
unfortunately, it quickly soaked through … all over my back.
After that, a whole lot of bad things started happening very
rapidly. When I realized that my back
was wet, it was already too late to do anything about it. The first thing that my curse always did was
to put my brain into twilight. I’m aware
of what’s happening but I can’t control any of my movements. My entire body now feels similar to when my
foot falls asleep … slightly numb, but no pain.
Then the frightening feeling of contractions start … the
reduction in size of every organ, every tissue, every muscle, and every bone in
my body. I have an odd way of picturing
this. I imagine a steam roller going
over a mile long carpet of bubble wrap.
There are thousands of ‘pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop’ going off and each
pop is a tiny contraction of part of my body … so I’m very aware that my body
is getting smaller … and it’s very disappointing when I feel the ‘pop-pop-pop’
in my penis and testicles. When that
happens, I know that I’m going to end up as a prepubescent child, but at what
final age, I’m not sure.
Dr. Frumpy was wrong.
What’s happening to me is not hypnotic suggestion. I can feel it. This is real … as real as it gets. But I’ve still never figured out where the
body mass goes. A child weighs less than
an adult. So where are all the missing
pounds? They do return when I quickly grow
back up, but where are they now? My
guess is that they’re somehow still stored in my body, but as a weightless gas.
(Let me check with Albert Einstein and I’ll get back to you.)
My whole age regression process probably only took a few
seconds, but I awoke to a chaotic situation.
When the process started, I had my hands gripped to Samantha’s chest …
so as the contractions occurred, my shrinking hands and fingernails dug deeper
into her breasts. They were locked in place … and she wasn’t happy about it. I got the sinking feeling that our plans would
likely change and that I wouldn’t be fucking Sammantha’s lights out this
evening.
Her sudden scream ran up to about 100 decibels, but I could
not disengage my own fingernails. That
was a problem. She attempted to stand,
but since my stature was shorter than hers now, she had no choice but to
support my butt and stare into my childish face inches away. More yelling followed.
“What the hell?! What
the fuck?! Get your stinking paws off me
you damn dirty kid!
(apologies to ‘Planet of the Apes’.)
Most of my adult clothes had fallen away and I was left
poking my head through my white shirt which hung around my body like a tent. I was taking quick little breaths in a panic
which left me unable to speak. Samantha
sat back down and through extreme pain, she managed to pry my fingers out from
her breasts one by one. I had given her
ten small cut marks on her boobs. I
never saw her anger as I saw it now.
“Get the fuck off me, you little creep!”
Samantha tossed my miniature body across the length of the
sofa … and my back hit against the sofa’s arm, further knocking the wind out of
me. I could barely breathe let alone
talk. And I had no idea how old I was.
Sammantha quickly replaced the halter around her wounded
boobs and began a rampage around the apartment.
“Where the hell are you, Derrek?! Get your ass out here NOW Derrek!”
Oblivious to my condition, she methodically searched every
room in my apartment … and every closet … the bathrooms … under the bed … even
the kitchen cabinets, god knows why. I
had to cover my ears from the screams.
“Derrek, this is not the kind of prank that I will tolerate
from you or anyone else, so you better show your face or I will break it!”
She paced in circles around the living room and then turned
and looked at me. “Who are you, kid?!” she barked.
But I was in no position to answer. Waves of tears roll down my cheeks. My nose sniffed snot and I still struggled to
breathe.
She snapped at me again.
“What are you, some kind of feral child? … A deaf mute?”
Then she ran to the living room window, opened it, and
screamed into the parking lot, “Derrek Hamlish … I will hunt you down, I will
find you, and I will hurt you!!”
Sammantha returned to pacing circles in the living room,
then began a rant half talking to me and half talking to herself.
“Is Derrek your daddy, you little shit? I’ll bet he is. And he did a lousy job
teaching you how to squeeze ladies’ boobs. I can’t believe I got played by some fuckin’
loser who goes all lovey dovey on me for a week and then suddenly splits,
leaving me with his deaf mute pervert kid … and the man knew damn well that I,
as a doctor, cannot simply abandon the kid or walk away.”
“Okay, kid. For now
we’re just going to sit and watch TV for awhile and hope that maybe your daddy
has second thoughts … maybe gets a guilt trip and returns. You can just do whatever the hell it is you
usually do … pee on the couch … whatever … but I ain’t changing your diapers.”
That remark alarmed me.
I started feeling through the large shirt to gauge my body size. The
long sleeves extended way past my hands and dangled downward. I didn’t think I was a baby. When thirty minutes had passed, I could
breathe normally again, although my sniffing and whimpering continued. I could not get over my emotional trauma.
Sammantha walked away and pretended she was talking to
me. “Got any bandaids in the bathroom?”
When she returned, she was still rubbing her injured
boobs. “Kid, you did a real number on
me, you know? I sure hope you don’t have
rabies.”
“Sorry,” I whimpered.
(I always hated the high-pitched tone of my childhood voice.)
She snapped her head to the left. “Oh, so you can talk … What’s your name,
little man?”
I was still sniffling and babbling through tears so she offered
me a tissue. “Derrek,” I answered softly.
“That figures … So you’re Derrek Junior, and how old are
you, Derrek Junior … Nine? Ten? Eleven?”
I shrugged my shoulders because I really didn’t know, but I
was at least glad to know that I wasn’t three or four.
“Can you tell me where your daddy ran off to, Derrek
Junior?”
I needed to use more words, albeit with a high pitched
voice. “I’m real Derrek. I had rough sex with you last week.”
Sammantha frowned.
“And do you eat with that mouth, smart ass? Do you know what happens to little boys with
big mouths? They get spanked. Is that what you want?”
I shook my head rapidly back and forth. “No! Please!
Remember, I covered up my boner when I saw you in Dr. Frumpy’s office?” (I sounded ridiculous saying those words in
my high voice.)
Sammantha stopped and stared at me for a moment, obviously
considering my unusual comment. When she
came over to my end of the sofa, she looked like a giant. She was scary, and it reminded me of an old
sci fi movie ‘Attack of the 50 Foot
Woman’.
“Let me look at you, kid,” she said, bending down to lift
the voluminous white shirt off my body. (I felt switched from a movie to a TV
show, ‘Naked and Afraid’.)
Sammantha lifted me as if I were a doll. She placed me on her lap facing her with my
legs straddling her knees. My legs were
spread wide apart and I couldn’t imagine a more embarrassing sitting position. That alone gave me an erection and she took
quick notice, tapping the tip of my penis with her finger.
“What do we have here?” she mused. “Could this be a case of ‘like father, like
son’?” Then she tousled my thick poofy
brown hair … and added, “You know, you’re really quite adorable for a little
pervert.”
I was blushing real bad.
My head dropped and I murmured, “Sammantha, it really is me.”
“Hmmm … Is that so?” she challenged.
