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Holy shit! One of our cell phones was ringing.
The three of us all had bulging eyes. It wasn’t Paul’s normal ring, and it wasn’t mine either. It had to be Sam’s. Paul grabbed the boy’s little clothes basket and fished through it to find the phone. The caller ID showed ‘Judy Moody’ … and he quickly pressed the hang-up button to kill the call.
A few minutes later, the social worker re-entered the exam room. “Well folks,” she said, “I tried calling one of the finest child psychologists we have in the region by the name of Doctor Sammantha Adams, but unfortunately, she didn’t answer her call. However, I was able to talk to her associate, Doctor Fellores Frumpy, and she’s just as good. So tomorrow morning at 10am, she’ll be expecting the three of you at her office.
Chills went down my spine. I thought this day couldn’t possibly get any worse. But it just did. Sammantha always told me that Dr. Frumpy had her head up her cunt. Right now, she could have put it up mine.
Paul asked, “Miss Moody, will this be a long term assignment?”
“That will be entirely up to Doctor Frumpy. I just make the referral. But please understand that you must take these visits seriously. Dr. Frumpy is required to report back to me and indicate if the children’s behavior is satisfactory or unsatisfactory. If it’s the latter, then the next step would be a juvenile detention facility, and I’m sure no one would want that.”
“No, Ma’am,” said Paul.
“So we understand each other?”
“Alright,” said Miss Moody. “If the two adults will sign my clipboard, I’ll be on my way.”
“Dr. Penice,” I begged, “may we please get dressed now?”
There wasn’t much to talk about on the drive home. It was probably the worst day for all of us. Sam tried to apologize to his father, but Paul just waved a hand. I could tell he was sad.
When we got to Paul’s house, we all just went to bed with our clothes on … and I kept my legs pressed tightly together. There were a number of things that didn’t have to be said. We knew that Sam and I would be staying at Paul’s house for awhile now. And I knew to take Daniel’s previous bedroom so that Sam and I would not be sharing a bed.
I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom … not to pee, but to add a teaspoon of water to my wrist. I couldn’t go to Frumpy’s office tomorrow as a thirteen year old.
The following morning after breakfast, Paul drove us to the apartment so Sam and I could put on some fresh clothes … and bring the rest back to Paul’s house. I also took a minute to put in a fresh tampon.
Sam turned on the laptop in the master bedroom. “What are you doing?” I asked him.
“This is the ultimate humiliation, Derrek. I have to call in sick and ask Dr. Frumpy if she can take any of my patients this week … because I’m going to be one of her patients.”
“Does it have to be with Frumpy?” I asked him.
“We have a reciprocal agreement, Derrek. And obviously, we can’t talk to my patients until you grow back to an adult. It was all my fault, Derrek … the rough sex, the cucumbers. I’m really sorry we switched bodies now. It’s not much good having a penis if I’m going to throw my life away.”
I put my hand on the boy’s shoulder and called him by his proper name. “We’ll get through this, Sammantha.”
Nervously, the three of us walked into the waiting room of Sammantha’s practice. We were fortunate that Paul had never visited his daughter at her office so none of the associates would recognize him. Additionally, he presented a different house address. It was risky enough having the same last name.
We took our seats and waited. In a few minutes, Dr. Fellores Frumpy entered the waiting room with ice carved into her facial expression. We pretended not to know her.
“Adams!” she called out gruffly.
(Okay, I thought. It was show time. Stop showing fear. Well, that was actually hard to do.)
“This way, please,” she ordered. “Mr. Adams, you may remain in the waiting room.”
I wasn’t expecting that, but Sam and I would have to go it alone. This was the second time I entered Dr. Frumpy’s office. In the first meeting, she hypnotized me into thinking I was an eight-year-old boy … but now, I was a real eleven-year-old girl who still had the water curse.
I couldn’t imagine how utterly humiliating it must be for Sam. Sammantha, the adult woman, never liked Frumpy, even as a middle-schooler when they sent her to Frumpy because she said she wanted to cut off the penis of every boy in her class … and now, this time as a middle-school boy … back for another scolding.
Dr. Frumpy walked behind her desk and sat down. We sat down in the two seats facing her. I guess that was a mistake.
“I didn’t say you could sit!” she yelled at us.
We both sprang to our feet, hands at our sides, at attention.
“This session is not going to be very pleasant for any of us. Now drop your pants … both of you.” she ordered.
Sam and I remained frozen in place, not believing such an order could be real.
Dr. Frumpy leaned forward. “You two children disgust me!” she wailed. “I’ve read the report. Both of you should be ashamed of yourselves … and this session will be conducted with your shame on full display. And don’t think I don’t know that the reason you two were sent to me is because my associate, Dr. Sammantha Adams, chose not to answer her phone when she saw Miss Moody’s name on her caller ID.
(This was even getting me confused. Dr. Sammantha Adams is the little boy standing in front of her right now. And yet, I, (Derrek Hamlish) one of Frumpy’s former patients, was currently inhabiting Sammantha Adam’s female body as an eleven-year-old.)
“I hope that the two of you understand that any lack of co-operation will earn you an unsatisfactory report … which will commit you both to the county juvenile detention facility where you can expect to be raped by the other inmates on a daily basis. Do I make myself clear?”
We both responded quickly, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Good … now follow the instruction.”
We gave each other a quick glance and then began unbuckling our jeans and pulling down our zippers. Then we pushed our pants to our ankles. I hoped that we weren’t going to be paddled … and I hoped that Sam wouldn’t get a boner.
“Now the underwear,” barked Dr. Frumpy.
Oh, shit. I guess that’s what she meant by having our shame on full display, but we had no choice but to comply. When it comes to people staring at my cunt, the novelty had definitely worn off. Oh, and poor Sam … he was getting a boner.
“I’ll ask the boy first. How often do you masturbate?”
(Oh shit, here we go again.)
Sam murmured, “About once a day.”
“And what do you fantasize about when you masturbate?
He looked down. “Um … naked girls?”
“Well, it looks like you’ve gotten yourself ready. Would you like to put your penis inside this girl’s vagina right now?”
“Why not? You did it yesterday. Have you ever looked at pornography?
Sam mumbled, “Maybe once or twice.”
“This time tell the truth.”
“Maybe a few times.”
“On the computer?”
“I guess so.” He said, looking away from his erection and from Dr. Frumpy.
“I can assume you get your ideas from watching computer porn every day.”
“Well, it’s not every day.”
I’ll ask the girl. Did this boy put his penis inside your vagina yesterday?”
I looked down. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“And did you enjoy it?”
“I don’t know. It was my first time, and I didn’t really feel anything.”
“And how often do you masturbate?”
“Maybe once a day.”
“And what do you touch when you masturbate?”
“Um, my clit?”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“And do you achieve an orgasm?”
“Um, I’m not really sure how that should feel.”
“Do you insert other objects into your vagina besides cucumbers?”
“Sometimes I used candles or pencils.”
“I was just curious to see how it would feel.”
“And do you watch porn every day like the boy does?”
“No, I hardly ever watch it. It’s gross.”
“Today, you say it’s gross. But yesterday, you were doing those gross things with the boy, weren’t you?”
Holding back tears, I barely whispered, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“I see. Let’s get back to the boy now. Did you enjoy fucking the girl?”
Stories of Age/Time Transformation