Dad to Lad

My name is Scott Templeton and I have a wife named Ellen and two

kids, Jeff (11) and Lisa (14). Up until about a month ago we were

just a typical family; then something changed. I caught a rare

disease (so rare that I may be the only one to have gotten it).

You see, even though I was born in 1962, I am nine years old.

I stand 4 foot 3 and weigh 68 pounds. Up until a month ago, I looked

like I was 41 and was 5 foot 10, 250 pounds. I had a beard, body

hair, and an adult-like voice. Now the only hair is on top of my

head (and there’s a lot of it), and my voice is a boyish soprano.

It started when I began noticing that I was looking younger. A quick

glance in the mirror--what’s that? No more thinning hair? A more

youthful looking face? That kept up for awhile. I looked like I was

in my thirties again, then my twenties. Lost a lot of weight. One

day the face I saw in the mirror looked like me in my college days;

you’d think I were 20 again.

Then it was back into adolescence. Now I looked like a high school

kid, and then middle school. The body hair disappeared, I shrank a

few inches, and my voice changed-- not going deeper but higher.

At one point you could have mistaken me for being one of Lisa’s

ninth-grade classmates.

My family was as shocked as I was, and doctors couldn’t help. I

began to wonder if I’d get so much younger that I’d just disappear.

The family atmosphere was starting to change. No longer was I

considered Ellen’s husband; now she was starting to treat me as if

I were a 13 year old son. We had no more intimate relations; she’d

hug me and give me a quick little kiss but it felt more like a

mother’s love than a wife’s. Sure, it felt good and she did still

love me, but I no longer felt like I was her husband.

The kids started treating me differently, too. They would no longer

listen to me; I was no longer their dad. Lisa kept saying, ’yeah,

yeah...’ to my demands of her. Jeff wouldn’t obey either. And I

dreaded the day when I’d find myself younger and shorter than them.

I lost my job because of my height/age change (it did involve some

physical labor and I was now too weak). There were medical benefits

but for the most part we lived on Ellen’s salary. (The co-workers

I’d worked with knew of my condition but nobody breathed a word of

it to the papers.)

Then came the day when I came into the kitchen and saw Jeff at the

table. He quickly stood up and walked over to me. We were the same

size. Jeff began to laugh. We both looked like 11 year old boys

(well, Jeff was nearly 12). I’d shrunk to 4 foot 10 and my arms and

legs were now thinner.

Had to wear clothes meant for boys that age, too. I went shopping

with Ellen and almost took out my wallet to pay for them with my

credit card. She firmly put her huge hand on my tiny wrist and

looked down at me sternly. ’I got it, Scotty.’

After all, wouldn’t they think it weird for an 11 year old boy to be

paying for his clothes, and with credit?

And the shrinking/reverse aging continued until I was 9 years old.

Jeff is now 7 inches taller and 30 pounds heavier than me and he

lords over me as the older brother. We’ll wrestle and he’ll pin me

to the ground. I can’t get up. Not with an 11 year old behemoth

locking me down.

To Lisa, I’m the bratty little brother that she just tends to

ignore.

And Ellen...well, Ellen now treats me as her son. I married her

for crying out loud, and now I’m her son?

The kicker came the other day when she brought someone home to meet

us. A boyfriend.

(’We’re still married!,’ I wanted to scream.) She introduced him to

us-- her 14 year old daughter, 11 year old son, and...9 year old

son. ’Scotty is named after his father-- the one who I got divorced

from...he moved out of state. You do kinda look like your dad,

don’t ya, Scotty?’

What?!? She’s not my mother; my mom died of lung cancer years ago.

My dad still lives on Cape Cod, and was shocked to see how I’d

reverse-aged. ’I guess you got a new grandson now,’ I had told him.

I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. Would I stay 9

forever? Probably not. Would I get even younger? I hoped not.

If anything, I’d probably start the growth and aging process again.

I’d always be two years younger than my son and 5 years younger than

my daughter.

So here I am, just over 4 feet tall, wearing boy’s clothes and a

look of innocence on my face. Maybe my wife and I will divorce

and she’ll marry this new man. He’ll get the kind of husband-wife

love I used to get, back before I moved out of the master bedroom

and we’d bought another twin size bed to put into Jeff’s room.

Me and my older brother.

Ellen still loved me but I was now no longer her husband (and if

you’re wondering, yes, there was one other change. Let’s just say

that as of right now, I can’t father any kids...)

But who knows. I can start again. It means I have to go through

school again (why not? I’m too young to work...and to be honest

my brain feels like a kid’s brain again. I’m having trouble

grasping some concepts, etc. Later it’ll hopefulle be easier, though.)

I have a lot to look forward to. Maybe when I grow up I can find a

nice gal and marry her, have kids. Just think. In 6 or 7 years, I’ll

be able to get my driver’s license. In 9 years, I can vote and in

12 years I can buy a beer legally.

but enough of my tale, I gotta do my homework anyway

gotta go!

bye!!!!

PART 2, NEW STUFF

It’s me again and boy have things changed, for the worse maybe. A year later than before and no I’m not 10. I thought the aging process would begin again but apparently it’s accelerated in the opposite direction. After a couple months of staying "9", I started to get younger. It happened about the same time Ellen married Chris, the man she’d met. Chris was born about 9 years after I was, in 1971. He looks like a man in his 30s. I should look like I’m

42 but I look like I’m ... three.

Yes, it started shortly after the wedding. I had kept going in my little

boy phase, going to school, playing little league, and playing around with

kids who were my "age". Jeff (now almost 13) doesn’t hang around with me too much of course. I’m too small and young. Besides he can be real bratty and mean. I’ll be using the computer and he’ll just physcially lift me up and toss me aside. "This is for BIG kids," he’ll laugh. Lisa, now 15, just considers me her annoying littlest brother.

Anyway, I noticed the clothes were getting loose again and I dared not weigh or measure myself for a few days. But finally I had to. I had gone down to

4 foot even and 61 pounds. I looked about eight years old. It wasn’t much of a difference-- 3 inches and 7 pounds-- but I noticed it. As I’ve gotten smaller

I’ve noticed small diffences can seem large to me. (The way I am now, every

foot seems like 2 feet, for example.)

The kids in my fifth grade class sure noticed it. Here I was, supposed to be turning 10, yet I had gone from looking "9" to looking "8". Many of the boys were up to 4’8" or so, but I was down to 4’0". I got teased, I got pushed around.

Then I turned seven and six, so to speak, dwindling even more. At 6 I was about 46 inches tall. Jeff had passed the 5 feet mark by then and I tried to behave around him; I didn’t want him to torment me. He was much more powerful

than me now, well over 100 pounds of weight and big arms, hands, feet, and legs. He wrestled me down to the floor with ease.

My new "dad" Chris was concerned. He noticed the height and weight loss,

and insisted we see a doctor. We did, but my "mom" Ellen finally told him

the truth one night. I was in the bathroom about to take my nightly bath and as I lay in the still water, I could hear her in the kitchen, telling him.

"Honey, Scott has a rare disease. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before. He used to be about as big as you and one day he just started getting younger."

Chris was stunned. "How old was he when he started--a teenager, maybe?"

I could hear Ellen groan. "Uh, actually he was about 41 or so. You see, hon,

Chris isn’t my son...he..." Her voice trailed off, and I could hear a bit of

emotion (the first I’d heard for awhile when it came to her talking about me).

"He used to be my husband. You know, the one I said who’d run off."

Stunned silence. I started to clean myself up and then drained the water from the tub and towelled myself off. I put on my underwear and robe. I heard her tell him, "We got a divorce when he seemed to be down to 9 years old."

It was then that I made my appearance, walking into the room--a 42 year old

who was 48 inches tall and weighed 60 pounds, looking like a 6 year old boy.

"That’s right, Chris," I told my new "daddy". "She kind of fudged the truth about me, the day she first brought you back here." I turned to Ellen.

"Honey, I don’t know if I’ll just keep getting younger. I thought it had stopped." She went over to me and hugged me. Chris hugged me too.

"I’m sorry, man. I know it must be brutal." Ellen coaxed me up on her lap.

"Honey, when I started to get younger, you kind of froze up. You didn’t

show me any emotion and started to treat me like your son."

"I’m sorry, hon. I just didn’t know what to do. It hurt me too, to see you like that, but--"

"Ellen, I needed you then but you didn’t come through. If this had happened to you, I would have treated you with a bit more care."

I knew it was tough for her to see me as her husband as I got younger. And as she said she was sorry, I did forgive her.

I looked down to the floor. "Hon, when you introduced me as your son to Chris.

That hurt. I tried to hide it, but it hurt. Couldn’t you have told the truth?"

She told me she thought Chris was special and didn’t want to lose him.

The next day we had a kind of family meeting and I stood on a chair and told my kids that I was indeed growing younger again. "Jeff, Lisa--I know it’s hard for you to believe I am your dad, still. I don’t look it. And technically I am indeed your mother’s ex-husband, as we did get divorced. But when I was big,

your mother and I shared our love and conceived the both of you, and then

she gave birth to you. When you were young, your mother and I did so much for you. Now I’m gonna ask you to do something for me, please."

I continued, "I’m gonna keep getting younger. I don’t know, it may stop at a certain point like before, or I may be a baby again or something. Just please, be kind to me. Help me out. I’m having a tough time being so little. If you could help me reach things...maybe even help me in and out of the tub. Cuddle up with me on the sofa. And just, please don’t be mean to me. Most fathers don’t ask for much. All I ask is you be patient with me as I get younger,

just as I was patient with me as you grew older."

I said that Chris was indeed their legal father now, and I pretty much was stuck as the younger brother, but I asked them to obey their mom and new Dad, and to help me out in whatever way possible.

Five years old, at least in appearance. 43" tall and 46 pounds.

Four years old, it seemed. 40" tall and 37 pounds.

And now I seemed like a three year old toddler, 35 inches tall and 30 pounds.It seems to have stopped. I hope it has. And I hope they can find a way to bring me back to where I was before. Even being 9 again would be cool.

Being 3 can be cool too, I guess, though it’s really odd. The strange thing is that--well, remember I said I started to de-age again when Chris and Ellen got married. I had also said earlier that I felt my brainpower was ebbing; I seemed to have the IQ of a nine-year old. Oddly enough, just as I started to get younger once again, my adult brain came back. The IQ, the memory--I feel like I was a 42 year old man. But in the body of a 3 year old.

TO BE CONTINUED

PART 3

So here was have the Hall family (we’re using Chris’s surname now): Chris,

aged 33; Ellen, his wife, aged 42, and their kids, 13 year old Jeff,

15 year old Lisa, and 3 year old Scott. Scott, who was really born in 1962.

Me.

A typical day:

I get up out of my toddler bed, which is in the corner of Jeff’s room, and head to the bathroom. Have to use a stool to get onto the toilet, and another to see over the sink to wash my hands afterwards. I took my bath last night so I was all set in that department. Then off to get dressed in my toddler sized

T-shirt and pants, and sneakers (size T-8).

The kids go through their various morning preparations. Chris has already left for work; Ellen works part time so she’ll be with me today for awhile.

Jeff and Lisa quickly have their breakfast. As for me, I climb up on my chair and with a burst of energy plant my tiny butt on the booster seat when--

SMASH! With a clatter, I knocked my cereal bowl over. Milk, Wheaties, and blueberries soak the table and wet my t-shirt. "Oh for Christ’s sake!," I hear

my ex-wife yell, picking up the bowl and setting it upright and using a dishtowel to clean up the mess. "Sorry mom," I whimper. Yes, I call her mom.

She pretty much is, even though she and I were standing on the altar getting married back in 1987.

She looked down at me and her expression changed. A slight smile came to her lips. "Honey, you look just like your dad."

"I AM my dad," I said in that high-pitched voice of mine.

After breakfast Ellen and I went into the living room and she urged me to sit on her lap. "Honey, when I married you I had no idea I would someday be your mother." She looked down at the face of the man she’d once married, a face that was now that of a toddler. "When I married you, you were big, strong, handsome. Now you’re a little cute guy...not the same."

"I am still Scott Templeton. I just changed."

She gently put her hand around my tiny arm. "How I used to enjoy walking around with you, like at the beach. Holding on to your big strong arm and cuddling up to your shoulder."

"Hon, I know I look different now. Maybe I am your son now, and I’m glad you are taking care of me. But inside I’m still Scott. My brain is still his."

"You used to be my husband and are now my son. And you know what? I hope you can be this size forever." I told her that just might be the case. The reverse aging had stopped and left me at three years old. I was like the 25 year old man I’d read about online who got to be no bigger than a 3 year old and looked that age, too. Much like me.

The rain would be coming in the afternoon so if I had to use my new Jeep, it had better be then. As it was, Ellen would be going to work in the afternoon, too, and I needed to have her around because I was just so small and I didn’t go out alone.

If you heard that a 42 year old man had gotten a cool new Jeep, you would have thought it looked a certain way. Here is how mine looks:

It’s rad. A couple hundred bucks, and it goes forward or backward,

has a hand brake, and remote controls Ellen can use. The model I’d wanted was slightly too big for me--even though I looked three, I was more like the size of a 2 and a half year old, so the one I wanted was a little too big. I could just about reach the pedal if I sat on the edge of the seat but there was no way I could drive it safely and comfortably. That’s why I got the Boogie Rallye model, since it was for age 2-6. This one works. I had yelled and screamed at the salesman of the first one when she told Ellen, "it’s just a little too big for him. Maybe next year he’ll be a bit bigger, and you can get it for him then."

"But I want THAT one! Now! Can’t you modify the pedals or something so I can reach them?"

Ellen tried to calm me down. "Hon, the Rallye one fits you just fine. We can get that."

I pounded my tiny fists on the chair. "I don’t know if I’m gonna grow! or

shrink! or arrrrgh!" The salesman probably thought I was just an overly imaginative toddler. He wouldn’t know how old I really was. I was just a terrible two toddler, armed with a coloring book to use as my "mom" bought me a jeep (actually I paid for half of it with money from my previous life).

It’s too bad it isn’t a two seater. My pal Luke and I could both ride in it at same time (Luke is 3’2", 38 pounds, and 3.) "you no gwownup, silly!,"

he tells me when I try to point out I’m as old as his parents.

3 or 4 mph seems pretty fast to a little guy like me. I have my shades on

too. Cool. I beep the horn sometimes so the Big People will give way. By the way, this mini Jeep is far too heavy for me to lift.

Ellen can carry it with one hand.

There’s some school kids at recess--they’re huge! 11 year olds who seem

about 10 feet tall, weighing at least 3 times as much as I do. Some of them playfully run in front of it and try to stop it. Just imagine me driving a car and having to deal with 90-pound pre-teens running over and trying to hold it down with their hands; I back up and they run over and try to stop me. Ellen is watching from the park bench nearby, half-reading the daily paper.

Some of the boys kid that they’d like to drive it. Fat chance--they’re too huge to fit in my car. A couple 12 year olds get on either side of it and start to lift it; I race the motor and start screaming. Like flooring the "gas" is gonna do anything!

Ellen intervenes and the kids run off laughing at how they stopped the Baby in his Car.

Back home for lunch; Ellen carried the car back in as I scamper up the stairs on all fours. Cream cheese and jelly and milk. For fun, I try to sit on the chair without the booster. I can barely see over the table. Then I get in the right one.

For a sandwich that would have been a mere snack to me in my old life, it sure seems huge. I use a small coffee cup for the milk, one tiny hand around the handle and the other balancing the other end. I will NOT use a sippy cup.

Surprisingly, I get the liquid into my small mouth without spilling any.

Off to the computer. I try to climb onto the chair, whose seat is over waist high to me. Ellen enters the room and I look up to her. "OK, hon, here you go."

"Thanks!" I’m starting to get used to the thin, wispy voice I now have. It was tough enough being 9 and hearing the pre-pubescent tones, and now it’s worse.

As Ellen kisses me goodbye and leaves, I go over to my old Yahoo!Profile page and click the "Hear my Voice" link.

A baritone, adult-sounding voice comes forth. "Hi! This is Scott Templeton.

Be sure to chat with me on Yahoo! Messenger. Also check out my Photos, there are some of my daughter Lisa in a play and my son Jeff in Little League. Check out the pic of me and my lovely wife Ellen here on this profile. Hope to talk to you soon!"

That was me. I sigh and feel a tear coming on. That WAS me, not "is". I start to whimper and cry, with the voice and face of a toddler. I dab at my eyes with tissue to drown them, and click View My Photos. Who’s the big guy posing next to his son in his baseball uniform, his daughter in her "Cats" costume,

and his wife...

She used to make me feel so excited, but as a kid, now, it’s not the same.

She could cuddle me in her arms like she did this morning but I wouldn’t be able to get "stiff" down below. Now she’s my mom, but I knew she and I

were husband and wife before.

I go online and start talking to people on instant messenger, many of whom know my situation. I relate to one of them a dream I’d had the night before.

There I was, my old 42 year old self in an adult body, entering our kitchen for breakfast. The kids looked the same, but my wife was down there on a booster seat. She looked about three years old. My "new" wife Natalie was feeding her breakfast.

Ellen got out of her chair but slipped and fell on her butt; she started crying and whimpering. I picked her up and asked her gently if she was OK.

"Yes," she said, still crying.

"It’s OK, honey, you just slipped." I put her on my lap as I sat down and gently kissed her shoulder and her face. I looked down at the woman I’d

married, now seeming so small and vulnerable in her little girl body. She had such tiny arms now. I hugged her with my huge ones, strong enough to show the love but not so strong as to hurt her. Your daddy is here now for you,

precious, I thought.

She slipped down off my lap and ran off into her bedroom, the one she shared with my daughter Lisa. "I don’t wanna be a kid anymore! It’s so unfair!!"

PART 4--CONCLUSION

So I get to talking on instant message with some people--one guy in England with pituitary dwarfism who is my height and size. We can really relate; in fact he got the same model Boogie Rallye Jeep that I did. There’s the guy in Massachusetts who seems fascinated by little people. Cool guy but...yeesh, WEIRD. He calls himself

Shrinkingman. Oh and a woman who’s a pituitary dwarf over in Pennsylvania--27 inches tall! My, actually 8 inches shorter than me.

(Though 8 inches to you seems like 16 inches to me.) Who knows, maybe we could meet and I’d have a tiny adult woman to hang around with.

In the old days when I could drive a full sized car, I actually could have made the 400-mile trek there by myself. But not now; and hey, how long would it take that little toy jeep to go that distance, LOL.

---

Some days later:

So there I was, almost 43 years old in reality but looking three.

Being led across the street by Ellen, putting my tiny hand in her huge one as we made our way using the crosswalk. It was a small street but seemed as wide as an interstate highway to me, and boy did the cars seem huge, waiting there as we crossed.

Speaking of cars, even the smallest model is gigantic to me. She straps me in the back seat (my tiny arms and hands could never pull the straps) and I’m down there, helpless, barely able to see anything out the window.

We take the car to have the brakes worked on, and at first I sit on her lap, then I get up and look around at the magazines. Newsweek and Sports Illustrated catch my eye, but I decide to play the toddler part and get Highlights For Children (Fun With a Purpose!). Yep, the same one I used to read years ago in the dentist’s office.

Ellen had to work late once so she tossed some money at 13 year old Jeff and we walked a couple blocks to the pizza and sub shop. Jeff’s up to 5’3’ now, maybe 120 pounds. I stand next to him, the tip of my head level with his belly button. He wears a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers far too big for me. The jeans are kinda ragged down at the bottom. I’m clad in a kind of toddler overalls look. We get to the counter which of course is far too high for me to see over. Well over 4 feet tall. I hear him converse with the lady, give his money, and he grabs the pizza box. For a second he looks down at me and says, ’I don’t think you can carry this, Scotty, it’s wayyy too big for you!’ Well, I’m used to comments like that. Of course he’s right, too...it IS too big for me to carry.

We walk home; the two block walk exhausts me (small legs and feet). He could have carried me but was lugging the pizza, of course. Maybe he could have brought me using the toddler sling that he, Lisa, Ellen, or Chris have been known to wear. (It’s a carrier that allows me to be strapped to their bodies.) But I insisted on walking, even though I know it would tire me out.

Later, Jeff has me on his lap as he types instant messages on the computer. Minutes later, those viewing his webcam see the toddler dozing off, my head resting against his T-shirted chest. Nobody suspects I was his father.

SIX MONTHS LATER:

me again and boy hav things changed...i got younger again and now i am really small. i looked 2 then 1 then 6 months and now...well i am the size of a newborn baby. 18 inches tall and about 7 pounds. it stopped then. what is going to happen now am i gonna disappear back in my mom’s womb? she died way back in 74 when i was only 12.

anyway i am using a special keyboard that’s more narrow and has smaller keys. i do look like a new born baby now complete with big head and torso and small legs and feet. there is a crib in lisa’s room for me. i don’t like wearing diapers or being locked in but there we go.

one night i woke up and heard noises from ellen’s bedroom. she and chris were, well, doing what she and I used to do and let’s just say that maybe in 9 months i will have a new baby bro or sis!! of course the baby will outgrow me right away. if i am still there

the wordl oops the world is even more huge now. remember i am knee high to ellen or chris and so many things are over my head. they carry me around and put me in a stroller. even the boogie jeep is too big for me to drive now but they’re probably gonna need it for when the baby gets 2 or 3 yrs old.

the maddening thing about this is i still have the intelligence of a man but when we go to see other people, or just go out, i gotta do the goo gaa gaa thing. it was embarrasing one day when jeff and i were at the park, out for a stroll, and we sat on a bench. he had his eye on a girl from school but i was noticing an odd odor about jeff. ’jeff are you smoking? that’s bad for you. it killed my mom!’

’aw, little baby is talking nonsense,’ he chuckled, as the girl moved closer to him.

’you smell like a pack of marlboros godddammit! i’m telling your mom about--’

the pacifier went into my mouth. i managed to pull it out and started screaming WAAAAAA! WAAAAAA! (oh it’s no use! i gave up)

’cute lil boy you have there,’ said the teen girl.

’thanks--it’s my younger brother.’

I felt like suddenly speaking in literate adult vocabulary, much like baby stewie on family guy. but i kept my trap shut and watched the 22 foot tall 13 year olds talk. planning to maybe go out on a date at an all-ages rock show at school.

well thats enough from me i guess. i might talk to some of you online sometime. as it is i have talked to some ’aduly babys’ who are people the size I used to be, but they dress in diapers and live in cribs. some kind of turn on. when they talk to me they love the idea that a man their age is living life as a baby again but actually is baby sized.

I suspect that after they sign off with me they think, ’well, cute but he can’t be 18 inches tall and looking like a baby. he’s probably adults just like us..roleplaying’

Little do they know...

ba bye!!

END