(2 NEW pictures added 11/23/23) ..........Link to story images: https://sites.google.com/view/comedy-ars-characters/home .......... (Apologies to William Shakespeare’s: A Comedy of Errors) Partly fan fiction based on the premise of: When It Rains, It Pours Chap 7 by Grennd 2/8/2006 A man recounts a series of tales related to his most unusual trait: his curse to become younger when doused with water.
Hello, my name is Derrek Hamlish and welcome to my totally screwed up life Well, to be frank, my life is only screwed up about 90 percent of the time.
So I was sitting there in the lobby of a “Shrinkatorium,” a mental health practice run by a team of clinical psychologists who try to poke and prod nut cases like me in order to justify charging a hundred bucks for 30 minutes of Zigmund Frued analysis.
This was my first visit here, certainly one of desperation, for reasons noted in paragraph one. But when the doctor entered the lobby with her clipboard, my outlook on life suddenly brightened. She certainly had a pleasant enough kind-looking face, with average length brown hair, no makeup, and a touch of a Mona Lisa smile. But I would have forgiven any blemishes, for that face was attached to the body of an Olympic decathlete.
Well, I suppose it’s only the men who compete in decathlon, but top to bottom, she was well toned with a sleek slender figure and a hard body that suggested she spent many hours in the gym … but not too many. She looked to be in her late twenties. She wasn’t muscle-bound like female body builders. There was perfection in her shape. Her hips weren’t too wide, her buttocks and boobs weren’t too big, and I wondered why a doctor would wear a practically skin tight outfit to the office. My god, I could even see her belly button. She was an ‘innie’. Maybe the dress code here was like ‘casual Friday’, except today was Wednesday. She had a body that wouldn’t quit. That’s why I wouldn’t quit ogling it.
I then realized that I had developed an industrial strength boner in my crotch so I quickly grabbed a magazine to cover up. If I had the chance, I would do her seven days a week and twice on Sunday. I don’t remember how long I was staring at her, but when her eyes looked up and around the room, I glanced in a different direction while my nervous anticipation made me think “Oh god, pick me! Pick me, please!” A half hour session with this goddess would make the hundred bucks very worthwhile.
As she opened her mouth and announced the word “Mister”, waves of hot blood shot through my face and upper body.
I slumped back into my seat. The disappointment of seeing some loser take my spot in line was tough to bear. Worse yet, the next doctor who entered the lobby looked like a dowdy old librarian with a swimmer’s inner tube around her belly.
She looked up and announced, “Mr. Hamlish.”
Oh shit, here we go. The way my luck has been lately, I should never have gotten my hopes up that I would have been the patient who’d land the female doctor with a designer body. My boner quickly diminished. I’ll bet my balls even retracted up into my abdomen. So I followed the woman back to her office. She shut the door and offered her hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Hamlish. I’m Dr. Frumpy. Would you please take a seat and tell me what brings you in today?”
I looked around at all her doctoral degrees hanging on the wall. I sighed and wondered what I was doing here. We sat about six feet across from each other. “Doctor, I have manic depression, high anxiety, extreme loneliness, and thoughts of suicide.”
She nodded and replied, “And how does that make you feel?”
I rolled my eyes, thinking “Is this woman brain dead?” But I took a deep breath and answered her. “It makes me feel depressed, anxious, lonely, and suicidal.”
“And can you describe what causes you to have these feelings?”
“I know exactly why I have these feelings. Several years ago, I met a woman who put a curse on me that causes me to get younger whenever ordinary water touches my skin. I undergo age regression. So I can’t hold a job, they fire me, and I can’t hold a girlfriend, they dump me.”
She nodded again. “I see … And why do you suppose this woman would put a curse on you?”
(I can already tell she’s trying to shift the blame to me.) “I don’t know. I figured she was a prostitute begging for money, so I said ‘get away’ and called her a bad word.”
“And what word was that?” she inquired.
“Uhh … skank … wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking up the clinical definition of ‘skank’… Ah, here it is … ‘Offensive slang, a derogatory term for a female considered promiscuous and unclean … a dirty, repulsive, immoral woman … a woman of low and sleazy character … a female of vulgar, lewd, and unhealthy appearance’.”
(Jesus H. Christ! I know what it means.) “Uh, yes doctor, I said that word.”
Dr. Frumpy sighed and added, “Well, Mr. Hamlish, don’t you think that based on your behavior, that you deserved to be cursed? It sounds a bit like the story of ‘Beauty and the Beast’.”
I lowered my head. “I suppose so, doctor, but in that story, the beast was at least given a task to accomplish in order to remove the curse. My curse seems permanent. Aren’t you going to try to help me?”
“Yes of course, but first I need to ask you a few questions about your background.”
“So Mr. Hamlish, when you were an adolescent, how often did you masturbate?”
I frowned and demanded, “What does that have to do with age regression?”
She frowned back. “Mr. Hamlish, if you want me to help you, I’ll need your full cooperation.”
I sighed and said, “Okay, when I was a teenager, I used to jack off probably once a day, sometimes twice.”
“And how often do you masturbate now?”
“Same … about once a day, and sometimes twice.”
“And when you masturbate, what do you fantasize about?”
(Right now, I was still fantasizing about the other doctor in the office down the hall.) “Uh, I guess I think about naked women most of time.”
“But do you ever think about being younger? Do you ever imagine yourself to be a small child playing with his penis?”
My face was turning red. “Uh … I don’t think so, I don’t know.”
The doctor leaned in. “Mr. Hamlish, age regression is a tool that has been practiced with hypnosis for many years. I highly suspect that the woman you were referring to, your ‘skank’ so to speak, put you under hypnotic suggestion without your knowledge. She suggested to your unconscious that you would feel younger every time you touched water. Didn’t you imagine that your clothes were getting larger and your body was getting smaller each time an incident occurred?”
My hands began to tighten on the arms of the chair. I was breathing faster. “Yes!” I asserted. “But I didn’t imagine it. My age regression was real!”
“It always feels real, Mr. Hamlish. This hypnotic technique is designed to make you feel likes it’s really happening … and once you get locked in, the human brain is incapable of distinguishing fact from fiction.”
“Are you saying that for the last three years, I’ve only been imagining myself getting younger? I don’t believe you,” I protested further. “The last time I was with a woman was over a year ago. We were in a hotel and I ordered champagne on ice. That was a mistake because she playfully put a bunch of ice cubes down my back and I quickly became thirteen years old. She screamed. She called me a pervert. Then she spanked me and forced me up against a wall. Then she jerked me off really hard. Then she tossed me naked into the bathtub and stood over me while I cried. Then she peed on my face. When she spanked me, her jewelry left cuts on my butt that bled.”
I felt pretty bold now, so I got up, turned around, and dropped my pants and my boxers, exposing my butt scars to the doctor. I asked her, “Do these scars look imaginary?”
“I see them,” the doctor said dryly. “You may buckle up now please. Mr. Hamlish, I very much believe that you experienced an episode of violent sex. But I also believe that this event occurred either when you were thirteen, or when you were imagining yourself to be thirteen. Mr. Hamlish, I’m asking you to stop acting ignorant. Age regression is derived from hypnotic suggestion, not supernatural hocus-pocus.”
I huffed back, “Well I don’t believe anyone can hypnotize me anyway. I’m too intelligent.”
Dr. Frumpy sat back in her chair. “Mr. Hamlish, I’ve heard many patients repeat those words. But this is one area where I think I can really help you. Would you give me permission to try?”
Flippantly, I threw up my right arm and replied, “Hell, knock yourself out.”
“Okay,” she replied. “Then let us begin … Uncross your legs, put your hands on your knees, close your eyes … Okay, now relax your eyes, relax your brain, relax your brow, relax your lips, relax your chin, relax your arms, relax your shoulders, relax your heart, relax your lungs.”
“Good … your heart is now beating slower and slower, your breathing is becoming shallower and shallower … relax your stomach, relax your bladder, relax your prostate, relax your penis, relax your testicles … It feels so good to relax … Now relax your thighs, relax your calves, relax your ankles, relax your feet, and relax your toes.”
“You are now completely relaxed in every way. Now when I snap my fingers, I want you to keep your eyes closed, but realize that you are now eight years old and playing with your toys on the floor in your room back home.”
“SNAP.” … “Hi Derrek.”
(I didn’t realize that my arms were now in motion and I was smiling.) “Umm … I’m playing with my die cast cars and my stuffed animals.”
“Really? Is it like a game?”
“Yeah, yeah … You see usually the cars would take the people and animals around the city, but here, it’s the opposite. See, the animals take the cars around the city. The city is my room.”
“Is your daddy home?”
“Daddy doesn’t live here anymore. He’s too busy with work.”
“I see. Well, is your mommy home?”
“Oh yeah … Mommy’s in the kitchen drinking her medicine again.”
“Derrek, do you know how to read?”
“Oh yeah, I read good. I’m in third grade already.”
“Good for you Derrek. Do you think you can do me a favor and go into the kitchen and read the name of Mommy’s medicine?”
“Uh … okay.” (I didn’t know that my feet were going up and down as I sat in the chair. Then my head seemed to be looking around.) “Uh, are you still here?”
“Yes, Derrek, I’m still here.”
“Okay, I think the name of Mommy’s medicine is two boy’s names.”
“Can you tell me who the two boys are, Derrek.”
“Oh yeah, it’s Jack and Daniel … Mommy needs a lot of medicine so she doesn’t get sick.”
“Thank you, Derrek. So tell me, do you have any special feelings about your penis?”
“My penis? That’s funny.”
“Well, do you?”
“I love my penis … It’s my favorite toy. And only boys have a toy, not girls, so hah hah.”
“Derek, when I snap my fingers, I want you to open your eyes and be alert. You’ll be 28 years old again … and I want you to remember everything we said while you were eight. Do you think you can do that?”
“SNAP.” “Hello, Derrek. Welcome back.”
My eyes suddenly went wide open. I looked at my large hands. I turned my head in all directions. For a second, I felt scared.
“Derrek, I normally tell patients not to remember their hypnotic sessions, but I think you needed a little more convincing.”
My breathing quickened. “So I’m …” I stopped talking because I couldn’t believe my voice was so low. “So I’m really not eight years old?” I asked. Dr. Frumpy handed me a tissue when I started to shed a tear. “I was just playing with my toys.”
“Derrek, this is what I was trying to tell you … Age regression is a product of hypnotic suggestion. It fools the brain. Even though it seems very real at the time, you don’t actually become physically younger.”
I sighed deeply. “So you’re saying that over the last three years, all of my age regressions were just imaginary?”
“Don’t beat yourself up too much, Mr. Hamlish. You did the right thing by coming in today.”
“So what am I supposed to do now?”
“I’m going to refer you to a masturbatorium for treatment. Doctor Dick operates one nearby.”
“A what?” I said, wide eyed. “Is that anything like a shrinkatorium?”
Dr. Frumpy grabbed a pen and started writing my referral. “No, it’s obvious that your overly-frequent self abuse is contributing to your problem.”
“A side effect of chronic masturbation is that your sexual fantasies become so intense that your concentration during each episode puts you in a state of self-hypnosis. This only serves to exacerbate any other ongoing problems you may have with hypnotic suggestion. Additionally, this intensity increases the blood pressure on the back of the eyeballs. If the eyes fill up with too much blood, you could eventually go blind.”
“How about if I only do it till I need glasses?”
“Mr. Hamlish, the last time I heard that joke, I fell off my dinosaur.”
(You are a dinosaur, you stupid bitch.) “Sorry, doctor. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me today.”
“Go to the front desk now and schedule to see me again in two weeks.”
Kelvin A. R. King · Oct 14, 2022I always enjoy therapist-client interactions in stories :) I enjoyed guessing which kind of AR it was.
TheFurEffect · Oct 17, 2022As soon as I read in the story description that this would have a premise based on "When It Rains, It Pours" I knew I'd definitely have to read this since chapter 7 is my favorite and is the most memorable of the chapters for me and just one of those classic stories here I like to return to every once in a while. I've only gotten through chapter 1 so far but can't wait to see the direction where this sets sail. I especially enjoy how the main character gives me less of a mental image of a James Bond esque protagonist and more of an average man as it makes me wonder how the protagonist will be played out over however many chapters are going to be present in this story. Definitely going to have to get to reading chapter 2 when I have the time and drive to actually read it.