A Comedy of AR's (Book 2)

Chapter 7
CHAPTER 207 .......... Amnesia

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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  207

I pulled the visor down and flipped up the little latch with a built in light.  I started to choke.  I nearly vomited.

 

“OH MY GOD! … OH MY GOD!   I AM a little kid.  That’s why my voice is so high!  How could this happen?  I’m a FREAK!  Who did this to me?!”

 

The woman in the driver’s seat cast a glance in my direction.  “I did,” she replied.

 

“Why would you do this to me?!  And you put me in middle school again?  You’re a monster!”

 

“No I’m not, Derrek.  It was an accident.  I will not lie to you, but you need to stay calm so we can get through this together.  About six months ago, we were on a date in your apartment and you were making dinner.   When we moved to the living room, I accidentally spilled some water on your back and you turned into a ten-year-old.  I thought adult Derrek was playing a trick on me.”

 

“How old am I now?”

 

“You’re twelve.”

 

“I groaned, “Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  shit.   Why would water do that?”

 

“A black-opps project working out of Cornell kidnapped a Buffalo prostitute named Queenemma Allred to use as a human lab rat.  But she escaped and stole all their equipment.  One day downtown, you insulted her and she retaliated by injecting a microchip at the base of your brain which causes you to age regress whenever you touch ordinary water.”

 

“Is there any cure?”

 

“A temporary one.  You age back up two years every 24 hour cycle.”

 

“Really?  So you’re saying that if I do nothing for one week, then I’ll be an adult again?  Great, let’s do that.”

 

“It’s not that simple, Derrek.  Right now, you’re the star of the school … football hero, class president, a true leader.  If you were to all of a sudden disappear, then the school officials, the police, and maybe the black-opps government people would all be trying to hunt you down … and they would start at your apartment.”

 

“So why am I even IN middle school?

 

“You asked me to enroll you so that you could play team sports, something your real mother never let you do.”

 

I put my hand under my chin.  “That part is true, Sammantha.  But I can’t imagine myself agreeing to be reduced to a child.  So what am I supposed to do now?”

 

“Look, Derrek.  We both agreed that I would role-play as your pretend mom.  Now we need to work together to try to get your memory back.  But it’s tricky.  Every amnesia case is different.  Do you remember the score of the game?”

 

I thought about it for a few seconds and replied, “I think one school was ahead 35-10 when I was walking off the field.”

 

“That’s right, Derrek.  Your team was winning … That’s a really good sign that you can retain short term memories.  What you have is PTA, post traumatic amnesia caused by a concussion.  It’s also known as neurological amnesia if your brain has been injured but right now, we don’t know how severe your injury is.”

 

“Will it go away?”

 

“We don’t know.  Sometimes it can last just a few hours, but other times it could last for weeks or years.”

 

“Well that sucks.  Shouldn’t we see a doctor? … like one at a hospital?”

 

“They won’t do any treatment for you other than give you an aspirin for your headache.  But the biggest risk for you personally is that if the doctors give you a brain scan, they might discover the microchip in your brain that gave you the water curse.  Then the scientists will want to know what it is and do experiments on you … and you definitely don’t want that.”

 

“God, I am so confused.  So I’ll ask you again, Sammantha, what should we do now?”

 

“Sweety, the experts say that as long as the person has good congnative brain function, which apparently you do … then they should try to stick to their most recent normal routine and hope that the memories click back into place.”

 

“Why do you keep calling me ‘sweety’?  It’s like you’re patronizing me.  I’m a 28 year old adult.  I may look like a child, and sound like a child with this high voice, but you don’t have to treat me like one.”

 

“I understand that, Derrek.  But I want you to know there’s no one else who cares more about you than I do.  I won’t abandon you.”

 

“Okay, I recognize my apartment building now.  Can you please show me my car so that I know it’s still here?”

 

“Sure.  It’s in the underground parking garage.”

 

“Does it still run?”

 

“Yes, I’ve been periodically starting the engine.”

 

“Okay, here it is.”

 

“Derrek, do you want me to start it now?”

 

I shook my head.  “Nah, it’s a junker.  I just wanted to make sure that my memory still knew which car was mine.  We can go upstairs now.”

 

I was glad that my building still looked so familiar.  I remembered that there was a broken light in the elevator.  Good, it’s still broken.  We arrived at the fifth floor and walked down the hall and Sammantha unlocked my door.  I was happy to see that the living room, dining room and kitchen all looked the same.  Maybe my amnesia wasn’t too bad.

 

I was still wearing my football uniform as I walked down the inner hall to the end where I entered my master bedroom.

 

I looked around and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.  “What the hell?!  Sammantha!  What happened to my bedroom?!

 

The woman trailed behind me and attempted to give me an answer that I knew I wasn’t going to accept.

 

“Derrek, just calm down,” she said.  “This is all part of our role play that we’ve been doing for months now.  In time, we can change it.  But for now, since I’m playing the ‘mom’, obviously, I would be sleeping in the master bedroom … and you as the son, would be sleeping in the smaller boy’s room.”

 

I shook my head.  “Uh uh, that’s not gonna fly, Sammantha.  I don’t care what we’ve been doing before.  This is my apartment and I want you out of my bedroom now.  You can sleep on the couch, or sleep in the little boy’s room … but I want you to move your stuff now.”

 

“Derrek, a radical change from your normal routine is likely to make your amnesia worse, and create problems with trying to regain your memories.  The absolute best thing that you can do now, even though you might not like it, is to continue doing exactly the same routine that you’ve been doing as a twelve-year-old.  Give your eyes and your brain a chance to relax and settle back into the same behaviors that lately, you’ve enjoyed and considered normal.”

 

My facial expression hardened.  “So you’re saying that I should just forget that I’m actually an independent 28 year old adult with a crappy job and accept being your little boy that you can order around like some exotic pet?  Do you think for one second that I would actually be happy with that kind of an arrangement?”

 

The woman opened her hands and tried to explain, “Derrek, the truth is … that in this arrangement, we both enjoyed each other’s company very much.  We loved each other, and I think we still do.  It was just role play.  We both knew it wasn’t real, but it was fun.  This is a good thing.  It’s good therapy for both of us.”

 

“Tell me, Sammantha, since you’re so ‘into’ the truth … as an adult, have you ever had sex with twelve-year-old Derrek?”

 

“Yes … There were times in the past when we’ve been intimate.”

 

I paused to consider her last response.  “Well, Sammantha … I have to admit that you have a super-hot body.  Can I fuck you now?” 

 

(While I asked that question, I checked inside the top of my football pants and wondered why I was wearing tighty whitey underpants … and I was shocked at how small my penis had become at age twelve … and I didn’t even have any pubic hair … I really was a child.)

 

“Derrek, I don’t think that under the current circumstances, that would be appropriate.”

 

“Well, why not, Sammantha?   Are you just a child molester?  Do you pick and choose which times are convenient just for you … and I, as the little boy, am your sex slave that you keep around just to pleasure you?  Do I suck your tits?  Do I eat your pussy?”

 

“No, Derrek.  Our role play has been pleasurable for both of us equally.”

 

“So you’re saying that even when we’re home in the apartment, I still have to pretend to be your little boy?”

 

“Derrek, listen to me.  The most important thing right now is to do everything we can to try to help make your amesia go away … and the best way to do that is to keep your routine exactly the same.  I understand that it’s not going to feel ‘dignified’ for you to be my little boy, but I’m a clinical psychologist.  I know what I’m doing.  You need to just suck it up and do your job … Do the roleplay … and stop complaining about everything.”

 

I put my hands on my hips and sighed.  “So you think my memory has a better chance of returning if I slept in the boy’s room?”

 

“Yes … I do … very much.”

 

“And do I have to wear pajamas to bed, too?”

 

“That is something that you normally do … so yes.”

 

I took a deep breath.  “And I suppose you’re going to assign me a bedtime?”

 

“As a twelve-year-old, you’re bedtime is nine o’clock.”

 

When I heard that this arrogant woman was giving a 28 year old man a bedtime of nine o’clock, I couldn’t help that my temper and blood pressure both exploded.

 

I clenched my fists and screamed, “FUCK YOU, SAMMANTHA!!! … and the horse you rode in on!  Get out of my apartment!  Now!”

 

As the rightful tenant of my apartment, I really felt that I had to authority to evict a squatter who had no legal right to live here.  I not sure why I thought Sammantha would be packing up her bag now … because that’s not what she did.  Instead, she grabbed my wrists and threw me onto the bed … easily.  She must be very strong.

 

As I tried to collect myself,  the woman pointed her index finger at me and spoke forcefully, “Even if you do have amnesia, and even if I do love you very much … you will still respect me.”

 

She looked like a wild animal and I decided that I didn’t want to mess with her anymore.  I replied, “Okay, fine.  I respect you.”

 

I slid off the bed, and at that moment, I just wanted to leave the room (and maybe go back to the boy’s room.)

 

That didn’t happen.  The woman grabbed me again under my armpits and lifted me up quite easily again and bounced me onto the bed.  Now I was on my back looking up at her.  Then she got up on the bed too and started loosening the ropes at the top of my football pants.

 

“Hey!  What are you doing?!” I yelled.

 

I realized it was a stupid question.  The woman was assaulting me.  “Stop it!!” I yelled, as I grabbed her wrists.  Jesus, she was strong.  I couldn’t pry her hands away from my pants.  She undid the top button and grabbed my fly zipper.

 

I tried to hold her right hand with both of my hands as (inch by inch) she pulled down my zipper.  As far as ‘power’ and ‘control’ goes, a girl couldn’t get any more personal with boy than that … especially if the boy didn’t want it to happen.

 

 

 

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