Fifteen Steps Down: An AR Anthology

Chapter 5
Wish (Part One)

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Chapter Description: Content Warnings: Diapers, Masturbation, Incest (Mild), Nudity

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“But Charlie…don’t forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted.”

“What happened?”

“He lived happily ever after.”

***

Stephen stared at the flickering flame that crowned his cupcake’s lone candle. He wondered how this birthday had failed to rise even to his rock-bottom expectations.

In fairness, his disappointment could not be blamed entirely on the day itself. Birthdays in general had grown more and more lackluster as he was systematically stripped of the cakes and games and parties that had made the event the highlight of his younger years. If given the choice, Stephen would’ve held onto all of that – held onto everything that made him happy when he was a kid. But he was getting to be a big boy, as his mother liked to say, and big boys weren’t supposed to enjoy such childish things.

The loss would’ve felt more fair if the perks of teendom had lived up to their promise. His peers seemed happy to cruise around town, partake in whatever drugs and alcohol they could get their hands on, and boast of the conquests that the freedom of college would allow. Stephen’s attempts at these typical teenage exploits left him feeling hollow and ashamed. Unable to relate, he drifted further and further from former friends until he got to where he was right now – on the verge of being shoved unceremoniously into the adult world without even a decent final birthday party to soften the blow.

More depressing than all of that, though, was the fact that his family wasn’t there to help him ring in his eighteenth year. His little sister Heather was all right as far as kid siblings went, but it was the absence of his mother that had really made this a day worth forgetting. Stephen and his mom had once been inseparable – she doted on him with such limitless love and affection, in fact, that he had on more than once occasion overheard other mothers whispering that Mindi might be babying her boy a bit too much.

Looking back on it now, Stephen had to admit that his mom seemed intent on keeping him her baby for as long as she could. Not that he resented her for doing so. As embarrassing as the treatment might’ve been at the time, he’d rather that she smother him than not be there at all. Really, the only downside of how infantilized he’d been throughout his childhood was that he couldn’t think back on those days without getting strangely excited. This quirk put more distance between Stephen and his classmates than any other. They spoke openly of the women and men that would drift into their thoughts when it was late at night and they were all alone. Stephen, meanwhile, would dream of how beautifully humiliating it would be if he were to wet himself right there in homeroom – if his mother were to suddenly materialize and, clucking good-naturedly as she did so, clean him up and diaper him before his gawking, laughing, picture-snapping classmates.

Stephen sighed and plucked the cupcake off his nightstand. Wallowing in his depression had become too unbearable even for this most disappointing of days. The hit of sugar wouldn’t really make things better, but the sweet distraction would be a welcome relief from thoughts of the cold, uncertain future stretched out before him.

“I wish…” Stephen murmured as his eyes were drawn back to the flame. Its soft, shifting glow coaxed the words out from deep within him. “I wish people cared about me again. I wish I could be happy.”

Stephen stared for another moment, then sighed and shook his head. Wishes were for children.

He blew out the candle. In the next instant, Stephen’s penis suddenly sprung to life, stiffening so suddenly that it strained painfully against the inside of his fly.

“Jeez…” Stephen’s arousal was so powerful and so insistent that he set the cupcake aside before even taking a bite, now concerned only with giving his growing cock some room to breathe. He gasped when he undid his zipper and let it spring out into the open air, gasped at the jolt that straightened him up when he wrapped his fingers around the throbbing shaft.

The young man’s skinny frame writhed and wriggled against the bedspread as he started to stroke. His need to do so was of an intensity he hadn’t felt in years – it was like he was a perpetually horny fourteen-year-old again, jerking off so shamelessly and with such need that he didn’t even bother to pull down his pants first.

Suddenly, the thought of being fourteen again was all Stephen could focus on. He groaned and bit his lower lip as the intensity of his pleasure jumped to a new level. His strokes grew faster and fuller as he lost himself in wonderfully humiliating fantasies of becoming that awkward little adolescent once more. Memories of ninth grade flashed through his mind so vividly that his ears burned with the laughter of his more mature classmates catching him – scrawny, naked, and nearly hairless – in the shower. His cheeks flushed in recollection of how the girls would coo and fuss over him as the guys looked on and laughed. His dick twitched as he recalled how the principal had mistaken him for a lost gradeschooler before a packed auditorium of pointing and snickering students.

None of this was new to Stephen. It was, in fact, the oddly exhilarating thought of suddenly and helplessly regressing that inspired his first awkward and clumsy attempts at self-pleasure. As he matured, however, those overheard comments on what his classmates used to get the job done weighed more and more heavily on his mind. There were people he found attractive, of course, and he could if needed satisfy himself to thoughts of being intimate with them. None of those sessions, however, could compare to the naughty thrill of indulging what Stephen came to recognize as his darkest and powerful fetish.

Even so, his teenage desire to fit in was so strong that he gradually grew less reliant on those fantasies and did his best to masturbate solely to what he was “supposed” to. Stephen, in fact, could not remember the last time he had so fully indulged himself in this secret. Not that he particularly cared – right now, his desire was so undeniable that he thought of nothing but driving himself to the most powerful climax possible.

Then he thought of getting even younger.

“Gah!” Stephen cried out and yanked his hand away his dick. He panted and stared at it in amazement, fascinated at how he still, even without stimulation, seemed an instant away from shooting off. The vision of being dragged across the threshold of puberty – of being stripped of what little maturity he could claim, preferably before a laughing audience – was so clear and so intense that it had nearly driven him over the edge. It seemed almost dangerous to continue, and not just because he didn’t know if he could even touch himself without making a mess. None of his fantasies had ever been this clear or this strong. None had ever captured him so completely. Dread mixed with the anxiety and excitement roiling in his stomach as he became convinced that continuing would come with consequences – that there was no coming back from this particular path.

Stephen considered all this.

Then he went back to work.

The young man hissed and screwed his eyes shut as he dove right back into the dream, his entire body alight with pleasure as he stroked with new fervor and need. Little whimpers dribbled from his lips as he envisioned himself shrinking into and then tumbling out of his big-boy clothes. He savored the bottomless embarrassment of the teenager turned tyke, of the pouting, sniffling child who darted his hands downwards as though there were anything left to see.

Younger. Younger. He willed the self in his thoughts smaller, cuter, chubbier, tinier. The giants that surrounded him pinched his pudgy cheeks and ruffled his softened hair, their teasing of “widdle Stevie” becoming more caring and affectionate the younger he grew. It was almost as though they were encouraging him in his regression, their delight evident and growing as he marked his decent into toddlerhood by pushing his thumb between his lips and sucking away with an infant’s need.

It didn’t register with real Stephen that he’d started sucking on his own thumb at the exact same time. All he knew was that he was unbelievably envious of the boy – the baby – in his fantasy and wanted only to feel what he felt, wanted nothing more than to soak in the adoration and love that made little Stevie giggle and squirm in delight.

The scene came to a head when his mother emerged from the audience. She beamed down at her precious little baby boy as she scooped him into her arms and cuddled him close, kissing and nuzzling her Stevie as the contented toddler burrowed into her embrace and sighed at the soft, maternal scent that swam in his senses.

“There he is…” his mother cooed. “There’s my darling. There’s my angel. This is exactly what my sweet little Stevie wants, isn’t it? He just wants to be an itty bitty baby wrapped up all snug and safe in mommy’s arms.”

“Uh…uh-huh…” The real Stephen answered by murmuring around his bobbing thumb as the feelings grew unbearably wonderful within him. He’d never been this utterly absorbed by a fantasy before. He’d never seen his own regression so clearly. He’d never felt so little. “Stevie…Stevie wan’ be baaayyybeee…wan’…wan’ dipees…an’ baba…an’…an’ wan’ mommy…Stevie wan’ mommmmyyyyy…Stevie wan’…Stevie waaaaaAAAAHHH…!”

Stephen’s lips clamped down on his thumb as he bucked his hips off the bed. His cheeks reverberated with his muffled cry as they (along with his forehead and chin) were painted by his own offering, as subsequent shots marked his shirt with the evidence of his ecstasy. His back arched off the bedspread as his body stiffened in overwhelming pleasure, as it became a conduit of pure delight.

Stephen gasped as the feelings finally ebbed. He crumpled in the woozy afterglow, giggling in disbelief at how unbelievably good that had felt. Still, the moment was bittersweet. Though he’d never before felt so connected with the self in his fantasies, that connection seemed to weaken and eventually disappear as those last tingling bits of bliss finally faded.

Just a dream after all. Stephen sighed and burrowed himself under the covers, suddenly so tired that he couldn’t be bothered to clean up or even tuck his dick back in his jeans. Sleep offered a chance at being Little Stevie once more. He offered no fight as it swallowed him whole.

***

“Sweetie? You awake?”

Stephen groaned and burrowed himself deeper beneath the covers, not willing to relinquish the delightful and infantilizing dream he’d been enjoying. His mother chuckled and poked him through the bedspread, accentuating each word with a playful jab of her finger.

“I guess I’ll just have to feed your special birthday breakfast to your sister, then. She loves those chocolate chip pancakes almost as much as you do.”

Stephen frowned beneath the blanket. His mother hadn’t made those for him in years…to say nothing of the fact that it had been afternoon when he’d fallen asleep.

“Mom, what are you – ”

There were two realization that stopped Stephen in his tracks when he poked his head out to question his mother. The first was that he wasn’t in his room.

Well – in a manner of speaking.

The stacks of textbooks and homework that had smothered his desk had been replaced by art supplies and a handful of crude, colorful drawings. The videogames, books and Blu-Rays scattered around his TV had become neat piles of child-friendly media carefully stacked in bright cubbies and hand-painted shelves. The posters of his favorite artists had been ousted by those for cartoons he hadn’t watched in years. The blanket he had hid beneath matched one of those posters, the funny smiling characters plastered all over the fabric making it clear that this was not a teenager’s bed.

It was his room, all right. Just not as he’d seen it for a very long time.

Stephen’s struggle to comprehend all this was muddled further by the second realization. The few words he’d managed to get out hadn’t been delivered in his husky teenage timbre – they’d been peeped in a high, squeaky soprano. Stephen gulped as he let his eyes drift downward for the first time, eyes that grew moon wide as he took in the fuzzy, bedspread-matching pajamas that adorned his slight, skinny frame.

“I know.” His mother sighed as she played with his hair. “I have a hard time believing it myself. Thirteen years old. Where did the time go?’

“Guhhh…” Stephen groaned and wavered, shaking his head to fight off the threat of fainting. It took a surreptitious pinch to his forearm to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming, and even that only led Stephen to believe that he was merely hallucinating. The reality was too bizarre, too impossible – too unbelievably wonderful and amazing – to accept.

“Honey? Are you okay?”

Stephen, jaw still dropped, turned his awestruck eyes upward. His mother didn’t seem to find anything strange with him having suddenly lost five years, nor with the fact that she had apparently remained the same age. Just the same, her smile was so soothing – her touch so comforting – that Stephen could not bring himself to disrupt the moment.

“Y-yeah, mom…” He managed a tiny smile. “I’m fine. Just had a bad dream, that’s all.”

“Aww, poor baby.” Stephen squeaked as his mother suddenly pulled him into a tight, warm hug. He felt that tiny smile of his creep across his cheeks as she rubbed his back and kissed his crown. “You’ll feel better once you’ve got some pancakes in you.”

“Right!” Stephen chirped with sudden enthusiasm. He blushed a bit at his own boyish excitement, at the realization that his trepidation regarding this whole strange scene was quickly falling away. Even if none of this was real, that didn’t change the way he felt – that didn’t change the warmth that swelled within Stephen when he saw the love in his mother’s eyes.

Eager to see where this vision would take him, the boy rolled out from under the covers – giggling at the tickle of the carpet against his bare little feet – and reached for the folded pile of clothes set on his nightstand.

“Hold on there, kiddo.” His mother grinned as she pulled the ensemble away from his grasp. “I know you’re a big grown-up boy now, but I think it’s okay to let mommy take care of you for just a little while longer.”

Stephen yelped as his mother relieved him of his pajama top in one deft motion. Distracted by the sight of his baby-smooth chest and soft tummy, the boy could offer no resistance when his undies and pajama bottoms were tugged down with just as much unexpected speed.

“Mommmmmm!” The whiny protest popped out of Stephen as he instinctively covered up, blushing to his roots as his mom chuckled and reached for the clothing she’d chosen.

“There’s no need to pretend like you’re all modest just because you’re thirteen now.” She insisted as she ruffled his hair. “Arms up, sweetie.”

Stephen pouted for a moment longer before reluctantly raising his hands and letting his mom pull the bright t-shirt over his head. Silly as he felt, it was still nice having such simple tasks taken care of for him – as they had been right up until he turned fourteen. That was the year when the slow development of his body finally kicked into gear, when it finally felt inappropriate for his mom to treat him like a boy several years his junior.

At the moment, though, Stephen was a boy several years his junior. Not just in the sense that he was meant to be eighteen, either. His short, scrawny frame was totally smooth from the neck down. His limbs possessed not a trace of the muscle that the other boys proudly flexed and lorded over him. His immature penis and barely-descended balls poked out innocently from between his pale thighs. Though he’d always been small for his age, thirteen was the year he’d felt the most difference between who he was and who he was “supposed” to be. It was a year of being a child among men, of being reminded with every bit of teasing and every shared shower that he was just a little boy.

Stephen gulped as his tiny dick twitched.

His mother, thankfully, did not seem to notice. She hummed happily as she shimmied a crisp pair of cartoon briefs up his skinny legs and finished off the outfit with a baggy pair of cargo shorts. Stephen stared down at himself in silent awe of the ensemble, whose cheerful colors and design were more befitting his nine-year-old body than his thirteen-year-old age. It was such a perfect disguise that no one would mistake him for anything but an elementary school kid. It was as though the last five years had never happened.

Stephen giggled aloud as his mother gave him a cockeyed look.

“What’s so funny, mister?”

The boy blushed and grinned shyly, shaking his head as though he had a secret he simply couldn’t tell. His mother sighed in mock exasperation.

“You little troublemaker. Go on now, your breakfast’s getting cold.”

Stephen didn’t need to be told twice. He gave his mother a quick hug and then burst from the room, ignoring the half-hearted command to not run in the house that followed him down the hall. His body was so light and so agile that he couldn’t help but put it through its paces, couldn’t help but laugh uproariously as he slid around a corner and bounced down the stairs. Dream or not, he genuinely felt like a kid again – and he was determined to savor every moment.

“What’s got you so worked up, squirt?”

His high could not even be marred by the preteen sass of his sister Hannah, who awaited him at the kitchen table with visible disdain for his childlike excitement. Though still one year younger than his current age, Hannah now held half a head of height on the underdeveloped boy – he came up just to where her blonde hair danced about her shoulders. Though Hannah had taken advantage of this disparity to tease Stephen in all sorts of ways, she always did so with the obvious affection she held for her “little” brother.

“Oh, nothing.” Stephen shrugged, still grinning as he sat down to a plate of steaming chocolate chip pancakes. “Can’t a guy be excited on his birthday?”

Hannah rolled her eyes as Stephen tucked into his breakfast, the first bite so sweet and fluffy and delicious – so what his revitalized taste buds craved – that he ate like a man possessed.

“Jeeeeeeeez.” Hannah scowled at the boy’s abominable table manners. “You really are just a kid.”

“Damn right.” Stephen grinned between bites. Soon nothing remained of his breakfast but a chocolate-smeared plate and a glass of milk that the boy greedily gulped. He took a deep breath when he saw that his sister was still studying him in mock disgust, inhaling as much air as he could before turning her way and…

“URRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!”

“Oh my God.” Though Hannah squealed and pinched her nose, Stephen could clearly see the amusement in her eyes. “You are so unbelievably gross.”

“Maybe so, sweetie…” Their mom chuckled as she entered the room, patting Stephen on the shoulder as she passed. “But he’ll be all grown up soon, so you’d better enjoy all that gross behavior while it lasts.”

“Can’t end soon enough for me,” Hannah muttered, the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips as she returned to her own meal. Though finished with his breakfast, Stephen felt compelled to linger in his seat and appreciate how whole he felt in that moment. It was wonderful enough to be this close to his mother again, but almost as fulfilling was the fact that he and his sister were buddies once more. The distance created by his adolescence had proven too wide to bridge, and as Stephen progressed through high school he could feel the connection fading between him and his beloved sibling – between him and his first friend.

“You can be excused from the table if you like, Stephen.” His mother remarked as she sipped at her coffee. “Your party isn’t until noon, so you can do whatever you like with the rest of the morning.”

“My party. Right.” Stephen sobered a bit, remembering the debacle that has been his first thirteenth birthday. Even with five years past, he still remembered the horrible sting of rejection – of none of his guests showing up for fear of being seen with some dumb kid. He had hours to himself before he had to go through that again, though, and as he wandered away from the kitchen table he considered the best way to spend them. Those thoughts were disrupted when he saw his mother get up from the table, looking as though she had a grim duty to attend to.

“Whatcha up to, mom?”

“Oh, well…” His mother could not hide how forced her smile had become. “I just thought that I’d gather up some of your old things for Goodwill since you’re clearly too big for them now. Can’t have all that silly baby stuff cluttering up the house, right?”

Stephen reeled as though slapped. Though his mother’s words carried nary a hint of malice, the boy was devastated just the same for how starkly they had revealed her own grief. Somehow, Stephen had never considered just why his mother had babied him for so long – he had never realized that she likely grieved for his lost youth just as sorrowfully as he had. It didn’t matter to Stephen that she and this whole reality he had found himself in might be fake. Suddenly, all he wanted was for her to enjoy his second childhood just as much he was.

“Can I…help?”

His mother studied him for a moment. Her forced smile had become curious and wry.

“You’re a very good boy, Stephen.” He melted beneath her kindness. Her soft tone leant new weight and beauty to her words. “Of course you can, darling. You can help me figure out what’s worth keeping.”

Stephen beamed up at his mother as she took him under her wing and led him up to the attic. Though the boy genuinely wanted nothing more than to spend time with her, he also got the added bonus of getting to see all the great old stuff that had made helped make his childhood so special. It had been years since his mother – as she’d done in reality – had given all that stuff away, and it was with the excitement of an adventurer opening a hidden chest that he helped her dig into the pile of boxes stashed in the corner of the dark and dusty space.

“Oh my gooooooosh.” His mother gushed as Stephen plucked out a pair of worn and stained denim shortalls. “Those were your absolute favorite right up until a few years ago.”

Stephen turned the garment over in his hand, smiling at the feel of the fabric and at the memories of how gleefully he’d romped about in the childish outfit. Though it had been designed for a much younger boy, his slow development had kept him small enough to fit within its infantile confines well through elementary school. His classmates became obsessed with “cool” clothes while he continued scampering about on the playground in nothing but a t-shirt, these shortalls and a pair of –

“Honey? Are you okay?”

“Uh…uh-huh.” He managed, cheeks turning tomato as he buried his nose back in the box. Close as he currently felt to his mother, he still wouldn’t dream of telling her that he’d been stopped in his tracks by remembering that he wore training pants day and night until the age of nine. It wasn’t because he’d been shamed by the memory – quite the opposite. Suddenly, he could recall with perfect clarity the crinkly softness of his Pull-Ups, the perpetual hug of the cushy padding, the naughty thrill of knowing he had to go and just letting it –

“Oh, look!” Stephen, startled from his recollection, looked up at the stuffed lion in his mother’s hands. “Good old Leo. Remember how inseparable the two of you were? I had to wait until you were asleep to wash him.”

“Yeah…yeah, I do…” It had been at least a decade since Stephen had last seen his best friend, and when his mother handed him over he immediately hugged Leo as though they’d never been separated at all. Though a little shabby in some places – his mother had patched Leo up whenever Stephen had been too rough with his toy – the stuffed lion felt just as soft and cuddly as he remembered. The only difference, really, was how small Leo now seemed. He and Stephen had been essentially the same size when the boy had started carrying him around, which made him a perfect napping companion. As he stared into the dark pools of Leo’s marble eyes, Stephen though back to how lovely it was to just lay down whenever he felt tired and snuggle close with his constant companion, to push his thumb between his lips and –

“I can’t believe I still have this.” His mother’s chuckles snapped him once more from his reverie, the boy’s attention called to the simple baby blue pacifier that dangled from her finger. “This was the only one you ever liked. If I tried to give you a different pacifier, you’d spit it out. If I didn’t give in, you’d suck your thumb. Eventually I just had to hide the silly thing to keep you from going to preschool with it.”

Stephen didn’t say anything this time. All of his concentration was focused on forcing himself to not snatch the pacifier from his mother’s hand, to not jam it between his lips and suckle with reclaimed fervor. He could get away with hugging a stuffed animal, but he surely couldn’t indulge in such an infantile act without mortifying his mother. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stop staring at that babyish bit of molded plastic and rubber. It didn’t matter that he nearly whimpered with need. It didn’t matter that he yearned to remember what it felt like to be an adorable, thumbsucking, diaper-wearing –

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweetie? You look…uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine!” Stephen squeaked, suddenly standing. He avoided his mother’s frown as he used Leo to hide that which attempted to poke through the fly of his shorts. “I just…I gotta go to the bathroom!”

The boy fled without waiting for a response. He did not stop until he was in his room with the door closed behind him, panting and clutching Leo to his chest. There had been something so visceral about handling those cherished childhood objects – so comforting about his mother’s loving recount of how attached he’d been to them – that made his fantasies of growing even younger impossible to ignore. Though a teenager in title only, there was one part of him that had reacted as though he were any other adolescent boy…a part that now refused to be ignored.

Leo remained tucked under Stephen’s arm as he used his trembling fingers to pull down his shorts and undies. He exhaled as his barely-pubescent pee-pee sprung free. He sighed as he took hold of it and felt its warm, meager length pulse against his palm. Though he’d played with himself at thirteen, he’d done so without the realization that there was a climax to be attained – his explorations had been inquisitive and fleeting, just like those of the boys he resembled if not those of his actual age.

Stephen suffered now from no such delusions. His stroking was purposeful from the first instant, the boy so intent on attaining release that he didn’t even wait to sit down to start. He stroked as he shuffled over to the bed. He stroked as he sat. He stroked as he stared down in awe at the impossible sight of his little hand going up and down on his even littler dick. And all the while his mind was rife with the visions that had excited him so, visions of running around in his shortalls and napping with Leo and suckling on his pacifier like the baby he so desperately desired to become.

Stephen jammed his eyes shut. He dug his teeth into his lower lip. He moaned and whined and whimpered and bounced his hips off the bed, clutching Leo tighter and stroking with increasing speed until…until…!

“Stephen?”

The boy opened his eyes and met those of his mother.

“I…I…uhhh….” Stephen’s blush deepened from tomato to cherry as he realized that he was still gripping his unimpressive member. It cried out for its denied climax in spite of this most devastating of downers, in spite of Stephen’s hand flying away as though it had suddenly become white-hot. “I was just…just, uh…”

His mother didn’t say anything. Her face was blank as she closed the door behind her, as she took a seat beside her son and wrapped an arm around his skinny shoulders.

“M-mom?” Though baffled by the gesture, his mother’s embrace was so tender that he could not help but snuggle into it, could not help – despite his lingering nudity – but be relaxed by her touch.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Her voice was quiet, understanding, a timbre of pure affection that was as comforting as any contact. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes, you and I both know that you’re getting to be a big boy – and this is just something that big boys do sometimes. I’ll be sure to knock from now on and I won’t ask any questions about strange stains on your laundry…but, before all that, I hope that you’ll let me do this one last thing for you.”

Stephen’s mom pulled him into her lap. She took hold of his penis.

“M-mommy?!” As strange as his day had been, nothing could have prepared Stephen for this. His instinct to push her away disappeared when his mother started moving her fingers, when she treated his needy organ with the tenderness and care his furious strokes had lacked. “Ohhhh…oh mooommmyyyy…”

“That’s right, Stevie.” She nuzzled his neck and stroked his hair. “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s going to take care of everything.”

The boy felt as though he were losing his mind – and that he wasn’t sad to see it go. Anything was worth the otherworldly ecstasy he was experiencing. Any thoughts of taboos or personal space fell away in the face of the all-encompassing pleasure that threatened to overwhelm him, that only grew more intense and irresistible as his mother’s pace quickened.

“You don’t need to hide anything from me, darling.” Her words slipped into Stephen’s subconscious and blanketed his worries in a warm, fuzzy fog. “Thinking about being little again made your peepee all happy, didn’t it?”

“Uh…uh-huuhhh…” Stephen dimly realized that whatever he was experiencing couldn’t be a mere slip backwards in time. Close as he and his mother had been, there’s no way she would have ever done this for him – and he never would’ve been confident enough to reveal the nature of his most secret fetish. While most of his mind focused on savoring the sensations that roared within him, the remainder puzzled over what could have happened to change reality in such a perfect way.

It settled on a cupcake.

The boy would have gasped aloud were it not for the whimpers and whines dribbling from his lips. Somehow, his wish had given him everything he wanted – even things he didn’t know he wanted, like the expert attention he was currently enjoying. Though he wished he could’ve ended up a bit younger, he didn’t have much time to linger on that fleeting regret.

“That’s right,” his mother chuckled. “Stevie wants to be mommy’s sweet little baby boy again, doesn’t he? He wants his dipee…and his Leo…and his…”

She finished her thought by guiding Stephen’s thumb to his mouth. He instantly clamped his lips down and moaned around the bobbing digit, sucking away without shame, opening his eyes to show his mother the gratitude in his gaze. She responded by smiling and kissing his forehead, by rubbing and touching and squeezing and caressing until he just couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Mommyyyyyyy…” Stephen squealed as he bucked up into his mother’s grasp. “Stevie…Stevie gotta…”

“Go on, sweetie.” She whispered. “Mommy wants her darling little baby to feel extra good all over. Make a biiiiiig squirt for mommy, Stevie. Show her what a big boy you are.”

“Nuh…notta big boy…” He whined as a bit of drool dribbled down his chin. “Stevie…Stevie baby, mommy…Stevie…ahhhhh…mmmmmmfff...AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

The boy went rigid in orgiastic delight. His mother held him as the incomprehensible pleasure made his skinny little body shake and tremble from head to toe. He gasped and bucked with each shot of immature essence, each nearly-clear offering propelled across the room by the force of the most powerful climax he’d ever experienced.

Stephen, after what felt like years, sighed and relaxed as the feelings finally faded. His mind had been so blown by what he’d just experienced that there seemed no conscious thought left. It was by instinct that he curled up in his mother’s embrace, that he – still sucking his thumb – cooed and murmured like a contented infant. Secure and serene, Stephen closed his eyes and surrendered to the afterglow.

***

“Stevie? Are you okay, darling?”

Stephen opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the brightest and bluest sky he had ever seen, an endless periwinkle expense dotted by none but the puffiest and most friendly of clouds. He turned in the direction of the voice to see his mother smiling in relief.

“You gave me a fright, silly boy.” She chuckled. “Did you just decide to have a nap right here in the grass?”

The grass? But wasn’t I in my –

Stephen looked down and nearly passed right back out.

It would’ve been jarring enough for him to take in the soft meadow he laid upon and the gently swaying trees that surrounded it, to realize that he hadn’t awakened where he’d fallen asleep. No, the real shock was that he was now wearing the shortalls he’d found in the attic – and that they fit perfectly.

For a moment, Stephen was stone still.

Then, he twisted his hips just so.

He grinned like an idiot. He was wearing them.

“What are you smiling at, goofball?” His mother matched his grin as she took him beneath the underarms and helped him to his feet. The boy reeled at just how easily she’d done so – then reeled again when he saw just how completely she now towered over him. He wavered on his feet but was secured again in an instant, unconsciously snuggling up against his mother as she braced his slender shoulders. “Whoa there, kiddo. I don’t think you’ve shaken off the sleepies just yet.”

“I…I’m okay, mommy.” Stephen blushed not only at the new squeakiness of his voice but also at how easily the childish title had popped out of him. “I just, uh…I suddenly got really tired. I didn’t mean to go to sleep.”

“Well…alright.” His mother seemed unconvinced but didn’t press the issue. “Remember to tell me where you’re going before you run off, okay? That’s still the rule even though you’re nine now.”

Nine. The boy would’ve laughed aloud – half out of delight, half out of disbelief – if he could’ve done so without further arousing his mother’s suspicion. As she took his hand – as he giggled at how good it felt for her warm palm to enclose his – he cautiously brought his free thumb to his lips. He beamed around it when his mother’s only reaction to his was to smile down at her son and squeeze his little hand. Though he had clear memories of thumbsucking all the way through elementary school, it was one thing to recall being a nine-year-old who was treated like a Kindergartener and quite another to be in that tiny and underdeveloped body once more…to know that he could indulge in the infantile act without fear of being shamed.

That fear, however, rushed back up within him when Stephen saw that his mother was leading him to a park bench where two familiar women sat. They had been cemented in his mind less as friends of his mother’s and more as the bearers of the frowns and disapproving glances he would get whenever he was babied in public. Though they never said anything about his infantilization in front of him, there were definitely the women he’d overheard remarking to his mother that her treatment couldn’t be good for his development. While his mother had always dismissed such concerns out of hand, that didn’t stop him from feeling ashamed and embarrassed whenever their eyes fell upon him – as he did now as both women turned their way.

“There he is!” The taller of the two exclaimed, surprising Stephen with her sweetness. “Did you run away to the circus, you little scamp? Did your mommy have to pluck you from the jaws of a lion?”

“I know what it is,” the stouter chimed in. “A boy this cute is sure to have a girlfriend already. I bet he was sneaking away to go see her.”

Stephen smiled bashfully and shook his head as the trio chuckled and chatted over him. Far from being embarrassed by the treatment, the boy was at once relieved at being spared their shame and delighted at how completely he was being treated like the Kindergartener he resembled. When they weren’t talking as though he weren’t there, they were gushing over how adorable he was and how lucky his mother was to have such a sweet son. He was far too young to care about or understand the adult matters they discussed, after all. Stephen was just a little boy now, a silly thumbsucking tyke who was concerned only with doing what felt good.

Speaking of…

As much as he appreciated the affectionate condescension, Stephen quickly grew bored of having to stand there while the women continued their circular conversation. He considered declaring to his mother that he wanted to go play, but then he felt a little tickle within him – and suddenly he had a much better idea on how to make his presence known.

The boy relaxed and closed his eyes, letting every muscle go languid. His babyish behavior at this age wasn’t contained just to sucking his thumb – even at nine, his control over certain parts of his immature body was so tenuous that all he had to do was let go.

Stephen’s reward was immediate. The boy’s eyelids fluttered and he squirmed in delight as a wet warmth soaked into his training pants, starting at a trickle but soon escalating to a full-blown flood. He cooed and giggled as it wicked and tickled his way between his thighs, spreading over his bottom as his Pull-Ups grew soggier and heavier with each passing second. He felt so naughty. So free. So little.

It was all so wonderful that he idly wondered why he’d ever allowed himself to be potty trained.

Stephen shivered as the last few drops soaked into his drenched undies, too awed for a moment by what he’d done to do anything but grin and poke at his squishy Pull-Ups through his shortalls. He felt so good, in fact, that he had to share it with someone.

“Mommy!” All three women turned his way as he childishly interjected himself into the conversation. “I hadda accident!”

Stephen, in the moment of silence that followed, suddenly feared that he’d crossed a line. That fear vanished when his mother’s friends chuckled indulgently, when she smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.

“Accident, huh?” She snickered. “All right, kiddo, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Expected to be led to a bathroom, Stephen yelped when his mother instead undid his shortalls and let them pool around his tiny Velcro sneakers, leaving him standing there in nothing but his t-shirt and his very, very wet Pull-Up. Legitimately embarrassed – though in a deliciously satisfying way – Stephen blushed, popped his thumb back in his mouth, and stared down wide-eyed at his mother as she helped him out of his training pants and started wiping him down in front of her onlooking friends.

“Isn’t that just the cutest little dinky you’ve ever seen?”

“Almost as adorable as that bare little baby bottom.”

Stephen was in heaven. Though he hated for the scene to end, he had to admit that it felt nice being put in a crisp new pair of Pull-Ups – and it felt extra nice for his mother to carry him from the park without putting his shortalls back on. His only regret that it was a short walk from the bench to the car, that only a few passersby got to see just what a cute little thumbsucking pantswetter he was.

Already woozy from delight, Stephen felt himself nodding off as he was strapped into his car seat. The drive home passed in flashes, and before he knew it the boy was back in his mother’s arms. She carried him into the house and laid him down for a nap in an impossibly warm, soft, and expansive bed. She tucked him under the covers and kissed his cheek as he dreamily studied his surroundings, wanting to take in as many of the bright and childish details of his nine-year-old’s room as he could before sleep overtook him.

The battle was a losing one. Though Stephen succumbed to his dreams, his last, satisfying thought was of how little difference now lay between his fantasies and his reality.

 

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