Jett Freelancer, a pulp-fictional character larger than life, makes his debut. (Or should that be "de-butt"?)
Chapter Description: To the rainforest we go! Adventure, excitement, cholera, gangrene! It's a lot of fun.
The chronicles of Jett Freelancer
In an ancient rain forest, with cold, damp mornings and rainy afternoons besprinkled with the constant smell of moss and decay, walked Jett the Freelancer. On this occasion, his contract to his current employer was to obtain a particular stone that a certain back-water tribe worshiped as their sacred totem.
The hot, humidity of the jungle ate away at his small party of fellow adventurers and mercenaries. Today, they had to cut off a gangrenous toe from their guide, Johnny. He didn’t seem to mind.
“I’ve got nine more where that came from. Kindly make the cauterization of my stump as quick as possible!”
“Sorry, old friend. We’ve got to burn it deep to prevent reinfection. We’re out of penicillin and the only thing we have for sterilization left is salt.”
“Anything left of the Brandy? Might that help to take the sting out while I undergo the ordeal?”
“No, old man, that disappeared with the water boy the other week. Hold still now!”
Kurla, the local girl, smart as a whip and able to assimilate the party’s differing mother tongues came up to Jett with offerings that she had foraged.
“Sorry for the meager offerings, but the forest spirits are a bit uncomfortable with your presence. They tentatively offer these manjo nuts to test the mettle and spirits of all assembled, Jett.”
“Quite all right, Kurla. Anything is better than nothing. We’ll find some game to eat sooner or later. Until then, these nuts will do.”
On the fourth week of the fifth month, the party found the remote village of a tribe that called themselves “The People”. Kurla was able to have a conversation with them and discovered that they knew of the tribe that Jett sought.
“The Chosen as they are known by The People is about 2 more kilometers downstream, Jett. They advise caution as the Chosen are not entirely amicable to strangers.”
“Well, I for one believe that we’ll just storm the place and take what we need,” Said a mercenary named Dirk, “we’ll pull out that fancy radio and call for help when we’re finished.”
As he finished his little outburst, Jett saw in his eyes that there would be no talking or reasoning with him, he was worn out from the steady beat-down that the rain forest had given him and his fellow mercs.
“We’ll work it out, I’m certain of it,” muttered Jett as he pulled Kurla close for a reassuring hug. Kurla snuggled into his underarm and enjoyed the heat of his body while savoring the moment. Jett was a big man in his late twenties, and while Kurla was a big girl in the native sense, she only came up to the top of his shoulder.
After an arduous week of creeper vine, a snake or two for lunch, much hacking of dense foliage, and a bit of swearing, the party made it to the small village of The Chosen. Before Dirk could sling his well-oiled 1911 colt out to begin the infighting, the village chief approached and spoke to them. In perfect English!
“Put the weaponry away, Dirk. You won’t be needing it today.” As a confused Dirk complied, the chief turned to Jett and greeted him.
“Hello, Jett! Your reputation proceeds you. We weren’t expecting you until a bit later this afternoon, but I’ll give you credit for finding that spare path. It cut a few hours of hacking through the underbrush and here we are!”
“Um,” said Jett a little taken aback by the forwardness of the village chief, “hello. And you are?”
“Oh, where are my manners! I’m the village chief, my native tongue renders my name unpronounceable, so you can call me Rodney.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rodney,” Jett offered a hand hoping that it wouldn’t upset some native taboo. The chief took it with both of his and pumped it enthusiastically.
“Now then,” the chief continued, we have set up a small hut for your accommodations. I insist that you and your party avail yourselves of it before we have lunch and a small meeting later on. Just follow your assigned tribe members and they’ll see that you have what you need. Our village doctor will be by to see what needs patching up.”
“Um, no offense, but,” Jett held up his hands, palms forward as if attempting to slow down the rapidly developing proceedings.
“Oh, our doctor is quite up to modern standards. He’s got several degrees from a few of your more prestigious universities, I can assure you!”
Before any further objections could be heard, Jett and company found themselves in a primitive, yet clean hut. It didn’t have any amenities like running water, but it was clean and bug-free.
“You’ll find the outside showers are fed with buckets, there’s soap there, don’t be afraid to use it.” Suggested the native assigned to Jett.
After they’d gotten freshened up, offered clean clothing while the natives mended and cleaned the ones they arrived in, the group all found themselves ushered to a large table in a medium clearing. Tiki torches burned with a lemon scent that kept the bugs away.
After the group enjoyed the best meal that they’d had for weeks, the table was cleared and set up with rough wooden cups and pitchers of water. The meeting would now commence.
“Greetings, all, welcome to the village of the chosen!” began the chief, “We’ll start this small negotiation for our god’s treasure by listening to what you offer in recompense for it.”
“Well, I was gonna shoot the lot of you, maybe have some fun with the ladies and then leave with the others. But, that would seem a bit rude of me, so I won’t!” Said a slightly miffed Dirk with a sarcastic smile.
“Yes, yes! No violence for Dirk this time around. There’ll be other occasions on other adventures, though. Thank you for your input!” Dirk's smile turned awkward and went passive. He’d said what he needed to say.
“Now then Jett, your employer sent you here to get our greatest treasure, The Great Orb of Life. What might you have to offer us in return, hmm?” The chief asked this and smiled a perfect white toothy grin that any normal civilized person from a higher level of civilization would die for.
“I only know that my employer is willing to offer anything short of her life to get it. She’s willing to part with vast riches, massive land contracts, fleets of ships…”
The chief waved for him to stop. “Yes, yes, that’s nice and all. But we prefer the simple life here, look around you. We have a few amenities and a few luxuries but that’s it I’m afraid. We don’t need vast riches or boats or much of anything. I want to know what you, Jett Freelancer, are willing to offer to make this deal.”
“Well, anything short of my life, I suppose. If it’s within my power to grant it, I’m certain we could come to some arrangement.”
“Oh, it’s within your power to do so, and I’m hoping that you’ll accept it as while it’s something precious, it’s often regained with a small passage of time.” The grin on the chief’s face turned to a slightly smug one. He reached under the table and pulled out a single sheet of animal hide parchment. Off to the side, a native approached with a small very sharp knife and a quill pen.
Jett eyed the situation and did some rapid calculations. “This isn’t the old sell my soul type of deal, is it? I don’t think I’ve got much of one to spare after all my adventuring.”
“No, no! I said that you’d get it back within a small time frame. What is it, that when lost can grow back?” The chief smiled genuinely with a scholarly tone that reminded Jett of the lectures that he’d had in Latin class.
“My hair? There’s not much else that can grow back without some scar or damage or disfigurement.”
Kurla, who had listened to the conversation passively, whispered to Jett at that moment. “Be careful, Jett! Chief Rodney appears to be all civilized and servile, but I suspect within him beats the heart of a savage warrior!”
Rodney smiled at the small intrusion. “Why I’m nothing of the sort, my dear! But I do thank you for the compliment.” Kurla gave a small smile of embarrassment and withdrew back to her place at the table. She had seen a small fire behind the chief’s eyes that reminded her of the large snakes out in the rainforest that wrapped themselves around you and squeezed until you died of asphyxiation.
“But, do stick around, dear Kurla. You might be a part of this deal as well. We’ll discuss it after Jett makes up his mind about our 'little' deal.” The chief seemed to savor the word “little”, Kurla could almost feel the smoothness in his voice shift as he carefully phrased it.
Dirk stood up, he was bored of drinking water and wanted to go kill something to pass the time. “I’m outta here for a little while. Don’t wait up!”
“Hmm, it would appear that we should take a break. Jett, I’ll leave you to consider what you could lose but gain back with time and we’ll discuss it after dinner.” the chief got up and walked away leaving the blood-letting and writing implements on the table.
Jett scanned the parchment, it was written in a language that he didn’t recognize. After running a few ciphers and letter analysis on it, he handed it to Turla who couldn’t make heads or tails of the strange flowing script either. They put it down and went back to their accommodations.
After a simple but hearty dinner consisting of root vegetables, a small local game fowl, and a few glasses of what appeared to be a very fine Chianti, the dining table was cleared and set up similarly to what it had been in the afternoon session. Jett and company took their seats.
“Now then, Jett,” asked chief Rodney, “what is it that you can lose but gain back with time?”
Bluntly, Jett replied, “My mind. I don’t see it working and I can only see bad things happening if I were to allow it. So sorry, but…”
The chief waved his hands frantically. “No, no! I said that you’d be unhurt, good try though!”
As the chief placated Jett, Kurla and Dirk snapped to attention while sitting. Dirk got up and walked over to where the chief sat. He seemed to be fighting himself with every step and finally stopped and stood next to the chief at parade rest.
“Now, then, let’s show you what our proposal is,” said the chief as Jett got up to stop him from whatever he was planning to do with Dirk, “Oh, do sit down, Jett. I promise you it won’t hurt him and I do believe he needs a suitable punishment for killing the village silky.”
Dirk had left the afternoon meeting bored, he’d spotted the silky sniffing around the grounds curiously. It’s velvety little nose poking here and there. Upon discovering Dirk, the long-haired animal came up to him and stood on his hind paws to greet him with a friendly “ruff!”
Dirk bent down, picked up the small, warm animal, and…
“Well, I’ll spare you the gory details, Jett. The doctor is having a hard time stitching him back together. It was all he could do to bring it back to life after all. I’m certain that our little silky will be back to their old self in no time. Now, Dirk, as for you…”
“Hey, I just don’t like small animals, okay? It was just instinct for me to off the little fucker!” Dirk managed to push out of ever-tightening lips while defending his heinous actions earlier that afternoon.
“Yes, quite,” said chief Rodney with a sardonic look on his face, “let’s see what we can do about that attitude, shall we?”
Dirk’s scars disappeared from his body as it began to visibly shrink. Jett couldn’t help but feel a small tingle in his crotch as he realized what the chief was doing to Dirk.
“You’re making him younger!” He declared as the tingle in his crotch caused him to grow a stiffy. Jett’s passion for browsing old comics and stories about the fountain of youth had been with him before he could read. He had avid memories of being in a crib and banging his tiny diapered butt against the mattress. It was all he could do to not grab his happy little man and rub one out.
“Yes, yes I am. I’d say I’ve gotten him down to about sixteen or so. Look at the difference in his once muscular frame, my boy, he looks like a 98-pound weakling!” Dirk had gone from tall, sunburned, battle-scarred, and strapping to a scrawny, pimpled-faced youth with smooth white creamy skin.
“Stop it! Please! I’m sorry!” said the higher-pitched voice of Dirk, the process had repaired his vocal cords which were formerly permanently hoarse after all the shouting and screaming that he’d experienced in becoming a mercenary.
“Jett, it would appear that you’d like to see a little more,” observed Rodney as he looked over to Jett who had unconsciously started softly stroking his turgid member, “So, be it!”
Dirk began to sob and tear as his years were further stripped away from him. A small boy of twelve stood in his oversize jungle boots. “Please don’t do this anymore, I’ll be good! I promise!” begged the crying child still in the grip of Rodney’s spell.
Jett was unable to contain his excitement at watching the spectacle in front of him. Kurla was amazed as her image of a perfect man began to develop a few cracks. If she wasn’t held in thrall, she’d have left the proceeding in pure disgust.
Jett began to work off his excitement in earnest at the sight of Dirk becoming younger. He couldn’t take his eyes off the man as he went from mature to adolescent and now wavered on puberty. “Finish it!” he was barely able to croak out as Rodney nodded his head in understanding.
Dirk who was only able to concentrate on what was happening to his body was unaware of the people around him who were observing his punishment. “Make him stop, Jett! Please, I’ll do anything!” he pleaded as Rodney began to wind up his magic act.
“No-o-o-o!” Screamed Dirk as his voice gained pitch, his pubic hairs all withdrew into his body and it became smaller and smaller.
Rodney stopped as Jett jizzed. Jett immediately felt supremely embarrassed for having one of his foibles caught out and just wanted to run away to some dark hideaway for a while. A native girl came up with a warm washcloth and wiped away the mess, leaving him feeling the coolness of evaporation on his meat as it slowly dried in the evening heat.
Little Dirk sat on his behind on the hard ground and made happy little gurgling sounds. A native came over and picked him up, wrapped him in a swaddling cloth while carrying him away. If he had objections to being handled in this manner, he didn’t voice them.
The party broke up and said their goodnights for the evening.
Over breakfast Rodney was quiet, Jett had shown up to the table but was still ashamed of his performance the night before. Kurla didn’t show.
The table was cleared and Rodney attempted an ice breaker. “Wanna talk about it?”
Jett broke out of his glum reverie. “Well, I can’t see doing this deal, I’m just not feeling it, you know? Did you want to revert me into a baby, too?”
“Yes, Jett, but would you entertain a modest proposal before you nix it?” Rodney was all sincerity at this point. His somber voice broke through Jett’s melancholy and with Jett in a state of emotional upheaval confessed his little foible.
“I’ve always received a sexual stimulus from seeing fictional characters revert to their youth. I think it might have been because I remember masturbating in my crib as a baby. It’s been my greatest shame and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. I grew up with this secret and it’s affected my life to the point where I just don’t know where to turn. You’re the first person that I’ve ever confessed this to.”
Rodney sat back for a moment, he stared at Jett with a sincerity that belied the scheming monkey in the back of his brain. “Hmm. Well, I’ll spill the beans and give you all the details of what our great god wants if that’ll help with our negotiations. There’s only one small detail I can’t tell you about and it doesn’t involve you directly, so…”
Jett pondered and tried to work through his shame and embarrassment to come up with a tangible plan to deal with what Rodney offered. He was just about to sign the contract when Kurla made her appearance and put her arms around him.
“Jett, I want you to know that what you did last night was very disgusting! Wasting your man seed like that is the taboo of taboos for my people. If I hadn’t been restrained, I would have offered my body freely to prevent that horrid act!”
Jett was taken aback. “So, me pounding my meat like that wasn’t what upset you?”
“No. We have a legend in my tribe about the god Atune. He offers new life to old warriors that have lived their lives so strongly that they were unable to mate and have children. Strangely, no one of legend ever died without having a mate or participating in the ritual of life at least once.”
“Oh, so they had to be wizards, then?” laughed Jett. After Turla gave him a perplexed look, he explained the concept of a virgin who never pleasured nor mated for a certain amount of years.
She thought about it for a while and shrugged her shoulders, such a thing would never exist for her people, they encouraged early sex among same age groups. The result was that there were no virgins in her tribe.
Turning to Jett, she looked at the contract and asked “So, you would sign the thing, become a baby again and leave me to wither with no love?” Then a thought crossed her mind. “Would you let me be your mother, Jett Freelancer? I promise to take good care of you!”
Jett let the thought of his girlfriend becoming his mother roll over his mind. He admitted to himself that she did seem more of a sister/mother type to him than a hot lover. He enjoyed her company, he would love to settle down with her, he loved her, but he just didn’t feel that he wanted children with her. He looked into her eyes, saw the hope and sincerity there, gave her a peck on the cheek, and said “Yes!”
After that, it was just a matter of Rodney explaining the contract. The two would go back to civilization, settle down in a nice town, arrange things for Jett to grow up again, education, health, welfare, etc., (The money that they would be getting from Jett’s current employer would see to that), and then deliver a copy of the Creator’s Orb in person to his employer, Jenett Johnston, a billionaire who was looking for a way to turn back her clock and continue to enjoy her wealth and vast empire.
The meeting was finally to begin! Jenett was tired of this old body. Its lifespan had been extended to its maximum and it was falling apart. She’d had a very hard time waking up this morning and getting her hospital bed rolled into her office for the meeting.
Jett was dressed up in a fine business suit, Kurla wore a seventh avenue number bedecked with a pearl necklace and a small diamond ring on her wedding finger. She also carried a baby carrier with a bag stocked with all manner of things that a little one would need to take a journey with.
Jenett made notice of the baby supplies. “You don’t look pregnant, dear and I don’t see any evidence of a childbirth on your part, what are the supplies for?”
“Oh, it’s for a little later, I just saw these things and couldn’t resist buying them on the spot!” Kurla gushed and looked at Jett with motherly love in her eyes. Jett was doing his best not to squirm at the thought of wearing baby things for the second time in his life. He so wanted the meeting to be over!
“Well, that’s just too bad! Grab him, boys!” Jenett for all her years was quite lively at this moment. Two goons came over and grabbed either arm on Jett while Jenett fumbled with a remote control attached to her bed. After several attempts, a wall in the office swung around to reveal a large vertical slab canted at an angle.
Jett made no resistance to the goons. He let them drag him over and strap him onto the slab. “What’s the meaning of this, Jenett? I delivered the Orb, and my momm-,um, wife and I want to go now that my part of the bargain has been fulfilled."
“Tough titty, wise guy!” sneered Jenett, “For me to get back my youth, I need the blood of a virgin older than 25. In today’s society, that’s just about impossible and it’s where you come in.”
“I happen to know that you’ve never been intimate with a woman and that makes your blood the virgin pure stuff that I need to feed the Orb! Prepare him for exsanguination, boys!”
“You don’t have to do this, you know! There are no rituals where I’m from that require blood. At least nowadays anyway…” said Kurla as her speech trailed off. She gave the impression that she’d just torpedoed her argument.
After the goons pulled out a pint of blood from Jett, he said “Well, that should be that, you’ve gotten your virgin blood, now let us go already!”
“Think you could fool me? I need to do the ritual with the Orb close to your body. Who do you think the life essence is supposed to come from, anyway?” Jenett looked triumphantly at Jett who returned the stare with feigned indifference.
“Whatever, Jenett. Just do this thing already, I’ve got places to be!”
“Well! Let’s see you do it with a body that’s as old and decrepit as mine is right now!”
Jenett carefully put the Orb on a special holder and offered the blood to it. It glowed brightly for a few moments and her body responded to the brightness like a flower seeing the sun for the first time in the morning. It sucked up the warm, bright light flowing from the Orb and turned back her clock to her early sixties.
On the slab, Jett watched and could feel his body beginning to respond to the Orb’s rays as well. It wasn’t much at this point, just a small feeling of warmth. He appeared unaffected.
Jenett got out of her hospital bed carefully. “Ah, that’s better! This is the age where an empress rules over her vast empire! Screw that going back to age twenty shit, that’s an age where all the men just take advantage of you. Unbuckle him from the slab, boys! He’s free to go.”
The first goon looked up to Jenett and said “Haha! Funny wadie! Me, not a bad boy! Me not do it!”
Jenett did a double-take and noticed that her goons were now two years of age each wearing toddler-sized business suit tops over their underwear was also appropriate for their age. Very puffy with pictures of sesame street characters on the front.
“Well, shit. Guess I’ll have to do it myself,” she muttered as she undid Jett’s restraints, “you’re free to go, Jett. No hard feelings, I hope.”
“No hard feelings, Jenett. Kurla, do you want to stick around for the fun or should we go?” Jett noticed that his suit was feeling loose on certain places of his body.
Kurla, who hadn’t received one iota of the bright light that came from the Orb replied, “I rather would like to stick around, I could use the practice,” and flashed a mischievous smile at him.
“I said you two could go. Why are you sticking around? Shoo, scat!” said Jenett as she waved her arms impatiently at them. She had her empire to run after all.
“Well-l-l, before we go, Jenett, you might want to have a look in that mirror over there.” Jett pointed with an arm covered by a too-long sleeve covering up a portion of his hand. He resisted the urge to rub his now very excited genitals.
Jenett shrugged her shoulders and went over to the mirror. The face that stared back at her wasn’t the one she remembered from her sixties. “Oh! I’m in my thirties! That’s okay. I can still rule and get a little something on the side.”
Jett’s pants fell to the floor as his teenage frame couldn’t hold them up. His business suit was starting to look like a pup tent on his skinny frame. Kurla came over and put her hands on his shoulders. “Soon, my love, soon,” was all she said. Jett smiled at the thought and his hand worked its way from the inside of his suit to his mouth. Tentatively, he began to suck his thumb.
Meanwhile, Jenett was staring in disbelief at her image in the mirror. “I look like I’m in my twenties! This can’t be good! How am I to run my empire!”
“Serves you right, you bad old lady! You was thinkin’ you could be all mean to me and stuff!” a little boy no more than five named Jett piped up. He pulled in his shoulders and stepped out of the business suit top that was the size of a garbage bag on his childish frame.
“Well, excuse me for trying to get some more years out of life!” said the moody teenager that Jenett had become, “This will stop soon, right?” she asked out loud to herself.
At age three, Jett looked like a photo model for toddler products. He pointed his finger at Jenett and said “Ha Ha! You’re getting younger! You’re getting younger!” in a singsong voice. Kurla gently grabbed his finger and admonished him for pointing.
“Oh yeah? so what! I’m not the only one, so nyah!” said a bratty seven-year-old Jenett as she stuck her tongue out.
Jett wasn’t able to respond to that. Kurla picked him up before he could fall on his backside. His legs weren’t able to hold his body up as age one for boys was a tough time for balance.
“I win! Stupid old boys an’ their cooties!” yelled an, even more, brattier five-year-old Jenett. She crossed her arms and gave a small pout.
Kurla put a diaper on Jett, dressed him up in a onesie that said “Mommies Number One” on the front and placed him in his baby carry-all. Tuckered out, he promptly fell asleep, his breathing and rhythm occasionally interrupted by his little mouth as it suckled on his mother's breast in his dreams.
“Hey! Where are you goin’ don’t leave me! I lost my mommy! Where’s my momme-e-e!?” at age three crying genuine tears, Jenett looked like an adorable little mop-top complete with chubby cheeks and little dimples. Her two goons walked up to her to give her hugs and consolation.
Kurla went to leave, but stopped and walked over to Jenett with the baby supplies, put her in a pull-up and a t-shirt that said “Daddy’s little squirt” on it, and left her to her own devices as she left her office.