A Comedy of AR's (Book 2)

Chapter 10
CHAPTER 210 .......... Amnesia (Part Four) My Day at School

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Chapter Description: 2 new pictures added 4/3/24 Images for this story can be found at the following web...... https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home

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CHAPTER  210

“Well, what if I decided to end the agreement by grabbing a knife from the kitchen and stabbing you to death tonight while you sleep?”

 

“Derrek, even with amnesia, I don’t believe that killing or murder is in your nature.  Everyone says you have a good heart.  I’ve seen it myself.  Besides, I’m a light sleeper, and if you come into my room, I’ll probably empty my water bottle on your head and turn you into a baby.”

 

“YOUR room, huh?  I could have sworn it was my room and you stole it.”

 

“Spread your legs, sweety.”

 

“Oh yeah, scrub my dick really good, Mom.  Because we all know that a boy is too immature to clean his own junk … Hey what about if I just run away?  Wouldn’t that solve everything?  I’d be back to a grownup in maybe a week, right?”

 

“Derrek, both of us have a very high profile in the city of Buffalo.  You’re the president of the seventh grade class.  And I’m the most notable psychologist in western New York.  If you just disappeared from school, it would draw a lot of attention.  The whole community would be out looking for you.  We have a policeman friend named George.  He would get the FBI to go out looking for you 24/7.”

 

“Ha, they’d never find me.”

 

“Derrek, the cops would interrogate me for hours.  They’d find out that I wasn’t your actual mom, and then they’d find out your real name … and eventually they’d figure out the water curse.  All hell would break loose and you would become a … I don’t want to say a national celebrity … but more like a national freak show.  Would you want that?”

 

“Are you done scrubbing my penis yet?  It seems like you’ve been doing it for hours.  That’s why I think you’re a child molester.”

 

“Derrek, turn over onto your hands and knees so that I can get some soap into your rectum.  That’s an area that little boys tend to neglect.”

 

“God, you’re such a pervert …………….Mom”

 

“Do you want another spanking?”

 

“No, but I’m still using my allotted time slot where you allow me to speak freely.”

 

“Okay, so what else do you want to say?”

 

“I want to suggest that we make an exit plan.  There is no freaking way that I want to spend the next ‘I don’t know how many’ years continuing to be a child and your personal little sex slave.  I think you’re a terrible person for what you’ve done to me, even though you may not have been the one to invent the water curse.”

 

“Go on.”

 

“You make up all these wild scenarios that might happen if I go back to being an adult … Well guess what?  I don’t care.  I’ll take my chances with whatever comes. 

 

“So what’s your exit strategy?”

 

“My suggestion is … that I play along with your game for one full week … till next Friday night.  I’ll be a good little boy for you, I’ll obey all your rules, I’ll call you ‘Mom’, I’ll wear my PJ’s, I’ll go to bed early, I’ll cuddle with bunny rabbit, and I’ll go to school in the seventh grade and try to be a good student.”

 

“And then what, Derrek?”

 

“And then … if I haven’t regained my memory after seven days,  then we agree to end the experiment and go our separate ways.  At that point, I want you out of my bedroom, out of my apartment, and out of my life … If not, then you probably won’t be happy trying to control a little boy who’s hell-bent on making your life as miserable as possible.”

 

I waited patiently a good minute while Sammanthly reamed my butt hole in and out with her soapy index finger.

 

Then she blurted out, “I agree to your plan.”

 

That surprised me.  “Oh? … Okay, that’s good.”

 

“Do you want to come out now and dry off, or do you want to stay in the tub and play with your rubber duckies for awhile?”

 

“I didn’t know I had rubber duckies, but no, I’ll come out.”

 

Sammantha grabbed my right wrist and helped me stand.  The tub was a high step for an eight-year-old.  I still couldn’t help the weird feeling I had being totally nude in front of her and sporting a ‘baby’ penis.  She wrapped a towel around me a ‘fluffed me up’.  Then she blew raspberries into my belly button and forced a reaction out me that I would not have offered voluntarily.

 

“Ooooooooooooo!!!  Ha Ha!! Ohhhhh!!  Stop that!  It tickles!”

 

She only did that to humiliate me and cause another miniature erection.  Then she patted my rear end and told me to get my PJ’s on.  I ran into what was now the ‘boy’s bedroom’ and rummaged through the drawers of ‘my’ dresser.

 

“Are these the right ones, Mom?” I asked.

 

She entered my room.  “No, sweety, that’s for when you’re twelve.  We’ve got PJ’s in the closet for all your ages.  Here are some flannel ones for age eight with the airplanes on them.”

 

“Thanks, Mom.”  I accepted them without complaint since I was tired of being nude.

 

“Derrek, why don’t you come into the kitchen and I’ll get you some mac and cheese before you go to bed.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The table was high.  I could barely see over it.  But the food was good, and obviously she gave me milk to drink.  I would try to keep up my end of the agreement and not complain for the next seven days.

 

She asked, “Sweety, do you feel more comfortable now since we came to an agreement on your exit strategy?”

 

“Yes, Mom … But I’m still nervous about going to school.  I think I’m going to feel really creepy as a 28 year old man trying to associate as an equal with twelve-year-old children.  I’m sure I’m not going to enjoy acting ‘childish’.”

 

“Just go with the flow, Derrek.  If anything is going to help you regain your memory, it would be going to school and being with all your friends again.”

 

“My friends?” I querried in my very high voice.  “I’m a grown man and I have friends who are children?  So does that make me a sexual pervert like you?  Maybe I should dress as a ‘Kinky the Clown’ and pass out candy … and encourage the children to sit on my lap and rub their rumps on my groinal area.”

 

“That won’t be necessary, Derrek.  Everyone at that school accepts you as a twelve-year-old.  And they like you.  You’re very popular.  And they’ll be nice to you.  They’ll ask you about your concussion, so just just be nice back.  There’s nothing special you need to do.”

 

“But how will I know what classes to go to?”

 

“Maddie and Hoshiko are your best friends.  They’ll help with anything you need.  In all your classes, you’re alphabetically first, so you always sit in the first seat by the door.”

 

“Have I had sex with them?”

 

“Derrek, this is the seventh grade.  It’s not a bordello.  So don’t talk about anything sexual because I don’t want you to get in trouble.  Just work hard at the routine of school and then hopefully, your memory will pop back in.”

 

“What about playing football?  That’s where I got my concussion.”

 

“I think next week is your team’s last game of the season, but you probably won’t play since you’ll still be on concussion protocol … but be respectful to your teammates.  You eat lunch with them and all the guys support each other.  You don’t have to say much.  They’ll already know that you have amnesia.”

 

“Do they talk about gross stuff at the lunch table?”

 

“Probably … They’re middle-school boys.”

 

 

 

I kept my word and went to bed early with bunny rabbit, but my Saturday morning wake-up call was not very pleasant.

 

I jumped out of bed screaming wildly and jumping up and down, throwing a huge tantrum.  I was nine years old and my pajamas stuck to my skin.

 

Sammantha rushed into my room.  “What’s wrong, sweety?” she quickly asked.

 

It was 6 am, and I screamed at her, “I wet my BED!!  I HATE being a child!!  I hate YOU!!”

 

She calmly assessed, “It’s no biggie, Derrek.  Come on, let’s get you changed.”

 

She grabbed the bottom of my PJ shirt and peeled it upward and off.  Then she had me hold onto my bed while she fingered my waistband and peeled down the bottoms.  I was naked again before her … and very cold. 

 

My small penis was shriveled up.  My teeth were chattering.  She led me into the bathroom and put yesterday’s bath towel around me. Thankfully, she didn’t blow raspberries on my tummy this time.

 

“Don’t touch any water, sweety. I’m going to get some warm gingerale to clean you up. ”

 

Sammantha poured the gingerale on a wash cloth and wiped me all over … then got a fresh towel and fluffed me dry.  I was still so embarrassed being nude.  I felt so childish.

 

I sniffled, “Mom, are you going to make me wear a diaper tonight?”  (I was really worried that she would do that.)

 

Sammantha ruffled through my closet and found a ‘nine-year-old’ sized outfit.  “No, sweety, but you might want to consider pull-up pants for the night time.  Your body was just getting used to a different sized bladder.  You did nothing wrong.  Let’s take off your sheet and throw everything in the washer … and let your bed air out.”

 

I stood nude in front of the full length mirror and noticed a definite change.  I was maybe an inch taller.  Sammanth came up from behind me, and in the mirror and removed my towel.   I saw her sprinkle lots of baby powder all over my body to dry up my skin.

 

Her right hand made sure to put extra effort into patting down my penis and scrotum, up and down, back and forth … and then she went to work on my inner thighs.

 

“Spread your legs a little, sweety,” she coaxed me.

 

I was so sexually humiliated looking at what she was doing to me in the mirror, that I got an instant boner … which she noticed right away and went back to it to rub more powder on my (still small) erection.  Then she cupped my little balls and patted them too.

 

I had promised not to complain about anything for seven days, so I just stared, red faced, at the mirror while she continued to molest me.  What is wrong with this woman?  All she cares about is little boy’s penises … at least mine, anyway.  She seemed positively ecstatic that I wet my bed.

 

“Okay, sweety, try these on.  You always wear tighty whitey underpants … and here’s jeans and a tee shirt.  Shoes for a nine-year-old? … hmm, try a size five sneaker.  You’ll be all set now.”

 

“You have clothes for me in every size?”

 

“I do, sweety, just in case of emergencies.”

 

“Have I ever been a baby with you?”

 

“Look behind you, Derrek.  You see that crib?  You’re the one who built it.”

 

“Why would I voluntarily build a crib for myself?  Keep in mind that I’m a grown man.”

 

“Sweety, it was your choice to be turned into a baby rather than endure the extremely hard spanking.  It was probably a good decision at the time.”

 

“Why, Mom?  What did I do?”

 

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