Original Son

Chapter 2
Part 2

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Chapter Description: God's children.

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Over the ensuing few days Matthew took full advantage of his vacation by doing absolutely nothing. Even stripping out of his pajamas and putting on clothes was a bother. The rest of his day consisted of chatting online, watching Seinfeld reruns, jerking off, watching more Seinfeld reruns, jerking off, and passing out. Every three hours or so Patricia would implore him to open the door and do something productive. “Are you going to just sleep your life away?” she would ask irritably. “There’s a reason the sun comes up, you know.”

Matt thought of that song they made him sing at church camp: “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” By his standards, this was rejoicing and nothing made him happier than a good jacking off. Surely God could appreciate that.

But despite Matt’s best efforts, Friday afternoon he made a discovery, one that brought back the same nervousness that attended the Youth Group meeting. Lying shirtless on his bed, Matt realized his chest hair had completely disappeared. The curly batch that usually occupied the upper-middle part of his chest and the column of hair that grew from his belly button on down were nowhere to be found. Had he shaved them off in a drunken haze and forgotten? He doubted that.

The revelation led him to probe other areas. Pulling up the elastic, Matt scrutinized his pubic hair and came to the opinion that it had thinned too. As the coincidences mounted, a crazy theory materialized in his head.

”Okay, Matt, you didn’t just think that,” he told himself.

Then, as he began anxiously scratching his beard, another realization dawned on him.

It wasn’t scratchy at all.

Matt hadn’t shaved in days and his face felt as smooth as it had Sunday morning. Usually he required a shave at least every other day. Matt leapt from his bed, turned on the brightest light in the room, and stuck his face two inches from the mirror. A row of thin, flimsy mustache hair and some tenuous light brown growth on his chin was all he observed.

What facial hair remained felt yielding and soft - nothing like the coarse stubble he had grown accustomed to over the last year.

”Mom?” he yelled, traipsing down the stairs.

”What is it, honey?” Patricia laid the Ladies Home Journal in her lap.

”Something is wrong with my hair. I think I need to see a doctor or something.”

”Your hair? What’s wrong with your hair?” Patricia almost laughed. “It looks fine to me, although you could brush it every once in a while.”

”Not that hair. My facial hair,” Matt corrected her. “I haven’t shaved in a week and nothing has grown back!”

”Well, to be honest, honey, I never noticed that you had much to start with,” his mother said calmly. “Sure, a little here and there if you let it grow out...”

”No, Mom...“

”I’m sure it’ll fill in eventually, but I wouldn’t worry. Why are you so worked up?” Patricia resumed reading her women’s magazine. “The way your father complains about having to shave every morning you would think waiting a week or two would be a blessing.”

”You don’t understand. I shave practically every day, Mom. This has never happened before,” Matt continued. He expected as much from his mother, but this time her arguments seemed horribly outdated.

”Never happened before?” Patricia said in mild disbelief. “Matthew, I think you’re forgetting.”

”Forgetting what?”

”Honey, I’ve seen you naked. I used to powder your bottom and give you baths. I’m familiar with your body.”

”What is that supposed to mean? I was, like, five years old!” Matt’s tone grew more severe. “In case you haven’t noticed, a few things have changed since then.”

He waved his arms up and down his body.

”Don’t you take that tone with me,” Patricia became stern. “Now I’m not taking you to the doctor just because you haven’t finished puberty yet..."

”Why the hell do I even talk to you?” Matt thundered as he trudged back up the stairs and slammed his door.

***

Over the course of the next two days, Matt stayed locked in his room, hardly coming out to eat or even go to the bathroom. He spent nearly all Saturday monitoring any minute changes in his appearance. He didn’t know how many were real - and how many his own mind had conjured. But something definitely wasn’t right.

Sunday morning, Matt awoke to a knocking on his door.

”Matthew, baby, it’s time for church.”

”I don’t want to go. I never want to go,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

”You don’t have a choice, Matt. Now get up and get dressed. Your father is waiting on us,” Patricia said impatiently. “We don’t ask much during your school vacations, all right? Just humor us. It’s only one hour.”

”Okay, okay,” he answered groggily. “Give me a minute. Jesus.”

”I heard that,” his mother said.

As Matt crossed the hall into the bathroom Patricia handed him a new set of clothes neatly folded on a hanger.

”More new clothes?” he said, noticing the frog in his throat had cleared and left his voice sounding higher than usual.

”Just wear them, okay? And hurry up, your dad is waiting.”

Even the piping hot shower that followed refused to fully awaken the teen. A part of him remained in a kind of dream-state, aware but disconnected somehow. Nerves took over whenever he moved to wash his privates or speak. He knew his body and his body wasn’t the same.

As the fog retreated from the mirror over the sink Matthew witnessed a reflection that sent his heart racing. I must be imagining this...

Not only had his face failed to sprout one new hair, the downy, almost translucent mustache hairs from yesterday had vanished altogether. Now it appeared Matt couldn’t grow a beard even if he wanted to. Minus the shadow of stubble, his face took on an entirely new demeanor, much younger looking than even the day before.

”Coming?”

”I’m coming, Mom,” he hollered, still transfixed on the image in the mirror.

He licked his lips and spoke the words out loud, just to make certain he wasn’t dreaming.

”I’m getting younger. I am getting younger.”

Nope, he thought. Still unbelievable.

***

After the silent ride to church, Matthew held his breath entering the building.

Coming up from behind on Candace and her family, he wondered if anyone would notice, if someone would say something. Instead he received an unusually spirited greeting from Sharon and Don as he edged past them toward Candace. Both looked like parents who had just received frightfully good news of some kind.

”Hello there, Matthew. You look handsome. Is that a new jacket?” Sharon asked breezily.

”Yeah, my mom bought it.”

”Well, Candace has a new outfit too, don’t you Candy?” Sharon turned to her daughter.

Matthew stopped dead in his tracks when got his first glimpse of Candace. The dreamy feeling that accompanied his hygiene routine and the ride to church departed and was instantly replaced by a cold chill. It was like he was staring back in time - Candace looked no older than fourteen. With her hair, now back to its original auburn, pulled into a ponytail, she was the spitting image of her eighth grade yearbook photo.

”Candace?”

”Matt!” she said, yanking him down into the pew.

”What’s happening? Why...“

”I - I don’t know. I wanted to tell you I’ve been feeling really weird all weekend,” she said with a drifting confusion written on her face. “Have you...“

”Yes, god, I’ve been feeling it too,” Matt exclaimed, still in shock from the dramatic change in Candace’s appearance.

”At first I had this funky idea... I thought I was growing younger. Pretty weird, right? I kept looking in the mirror every five seconds to see what had changed, you know,” Candace related her story as Matt’s stomach continued to sink. “I talked to my mom for, like, an hour last night and today I feel a little bit better, I think...”

”But Candace...“

”What?”

”What are you talking about? This confirms it. You were right. We are getting younger!” Matt tried to keep his voice low.

”I don’t know. That doesn’t make any sense,” Candace said, clearly struggling to work out the situation in her head. “People don’t grow young. It’s impossible.”

”I know, but it’s happening. See?” Matt drew closer to Candace. “My facial hair. It’s all gone. I look like I’m fifteen again.”

”But...“

”How old do you think you are?” Matt asked.

”I’m... not sure. Mom says I’m fourteen going on fifteen.” She shrugged.

”Since when do you trust your mom about anything?”

A bright organ chord interrupted their conversation. “All rise for the invocation.”

As everyone stood Matt noticed he and Candace no longer came head to head and their parents seemed taller than before. With the proportions out of whack, Matt’s surroundings became alien to him, as if his life had taken a detour into a parallel universe. More alarming, though, was his best friend’s inability to grasp what was taking place. Was Candace losing her mind or was he?

Several hymns and offerings later, Pastor Leary summoned all of the children to the front for that week’s installment of “Altar Chat.”

”Jesus said, ?Let the little ones come to me’ so, don’t be shy now, just make your way up to the stage...” the minister motioned for all the children to form a circle around Brother Yelton.

”Well,” Sharon said, looking expectantly at her daughter. “Aren’t you going to go up?”

”Oh, am I supposed to?” Candace replied. “I thought that was for littler kids.”

”Go on up, honey,” she encouraged. “They’re about to start.”

”Where are you going?” Matt said fretfully as he watched Candace scoot down the aisle. “You can’t be serious.”

”Matthew, honey, why don’t you join her?” Patricia suggested. “Keep her company.”

”Altar Chat is for kids, Mom...“

”Oh, and you’re an adult now? All grown up?” she said in the same indignant tone she had adopted last Friday. “The last time I checked you were still living under our roof. Don’t be such a stick in the mud. Look, Candace looks lonely up there...” She pointed at the cutely dressed girl, who couldn’t help but stick out in the group of mostly elementary school kids.

Matt wanted desperately to mumble “goddamnit” but caught himself before the expletive slipped out. Last week his parents hadn’t uttered a word when Altar Chat time arrived; this week they were pushing him to join the group.

As Brother Yelton took up that day’s lesson, Candace leaned over and tapped Matt on the shoulder.

”Heh, check this out,” she said, maneuvering her hand inside her outfit. A few seconds later she flapped her arm like a chicken wing and produced a small farting noise. The squeak was not loud enough to distract Brother Yelton, whose hearing was not so good, but it did prompt a small round of commotion.

Matt had to admit farts were funny. Doubly so in church. But no, he thought. I’m too old for this. Still, Candace’s prank seemed irresistibly entertaining, despite his being fifteen. No, eighteen.

While Brother Yelton blabbered on about the importance of obeying their parents, Matt’s attention wandered. Everything - the church, Candace, their parents - was utterly wrong. In a few months he would skip town and enter the heavenly gates of Butler University. If all went as planned, he would finally taste the sweet life: parties, alcohol, no parents, no church, and sex. Maybe even with Candace, he mused.

But returning his focus to the youthful, goofy girl seated next to him threw all those ideas into dissonance. Studying the new childish angles that had supplanted Candace’s previously sharp features, he realized sex with her wouldn’t be merely strange but unlawful. His mother was right. They were both still just kids.

”And you know what, guys? God thought the obeying your parents was so important he put that in the Ten Commandments that he delivered to Moses on the mountain...” Brother Yelton spoke in his soothing grandfatherly way. “He said it’s good to honor your mother and father. Now sometimes I know it’s hard and your mommy or daddy might make you do something you don’t want to, but God says you need to follow their rules, okay? And one day, when you’re all grown up, you’ll have kids of your own and you’ll be the mommies and daddies...”

The old man in the dark blue robe was starting to make too much sense. The longer Brother Yelton talked the more conflicted Matt became. On the one hand he didn’t even believe in God or the Bible, but the physical reality of his appearance was hard to ignore. Deep down, he knew all this religious junk was silly, misguided superstition and yet he suddenly - for the first time - became worried that maybe he was wrong.

”But don’t worry about all that right now. It’s a long way off yet and God wants you run around and play ball and enjoy being kids, okay?”

***

As Matthew boarded the family minivan, the influence of that day’s sermon began to wear off, leaving him with the distinct impression that New Life Christian Church might be the catalyst behind his newfound age problem.

”Mom, why are all of Pastor Leary’s messages about children?” he asked.

”Well maybe he just feels it’s important that the younger audience know how important they are,” Patricia answered.

”He quotes Matthew 18 every week. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

”We all have our favorite verses.” Patricia dug through her purse for Sharon’s cell phone number. “You’ve been acting strange lately, honey. Is there anything we can do for you?”

Matt wanted so badly to blurt out “Stop making me younger!” but he knew another argument would erupt and nothing would be solved. For now, he was confined to his fifteen-year-old body and no one seemed to notice or care.

For the ensuing three days, sleep became difficult for Matt. Each night the ticking clock above his head reminded him of the horror of what lay ahead. If this doesn’t stop, if I keep growing backwards... Images of elementary school and wedgies and Vacation Bible School invaded his thoughts and dreams. And every morning Matt would awake to find a little piece of the nightmare had come true as he slept.

Tuesday morning, when Matt got out of bed, his pajama pants fell and crumpled into a heap on the floor. Reaching to pick them up, he learned that his legs were no longer the hairy limbs of an eighteen-year-old but the pale, doughy legs of a young adolescent.

”Shit!” Matt muttered, again detecting another upward shift in his voice.

That day’s mirror check proved an even bigger blow. Matt placed himself somewhere between thirteen and fourteen. Even his hairline seemed different. Unbuttoning his pajama top, he was shocked to find that the thick tangle of hair framing his dick had thinned to a few spare strands, hardly qualifying as pubic hair. He checked under his arms. Same story there.

”God, I’m a fucking middle schooler again,” he spat.

With arms hanging limp at his sides the cuffs of his shirt engulfed his hands.

“Fucking hell.”

That morning at breakfast Matt finally voiced his outrage. Just after his mother finished complaining that no official prayer groups existed at Pullman Middle, he dropped his fork on the plate with a loud clang and gave his mom the evil eye.

”Mom, how many times do I have to tell you?” he said with a face of disgust. “I am not going to Pullman Middle. I am not thirteen years old. I am not a Christian. And I am not interested in your stupid prayer groups!”

”Matthew Joseph Kessler,” she said, emphasizing every first syllable. “You will not speak to your elders that way!”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin, as if preparing for a speech. Matt groaned.

”Now what you believe is your choice, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are our teenage son. We love you and we try our best. But all we ever get in return are snide remarks and lies,” she scolded. “You’re going to middle school because that’s where thirteen-year-olds go...“

”But Mom, I’m not...“ He could swear his voice jumped another few notches in pitch right there on the spot.

”I know. You’re not thirteen. You’re eighteen, right? Just about to leave home for college,” she interrupted him. “Well, honey, I don’t know what to tell you. I’m no doctor, but I think I know a thirteen-year-old when I see one.”

”You’re all full of shit!” Matt screamed, immediately regretting it. “I am eighteen years old. I can prove it!”

”Matthew Kessler! You know that language is unacceptable in this house...“

”You’re all doing this to me!”

”If you don’t stop this nonsense right now, I’m going to...“

”Fuck you!”

A gasp, followed by a moment of stunned silence.

Patricia rushed to the other end of the table and grabbed Matt by the arm. Without another word she hauled the young teen into the bathroom and flipped on the lights. She then ordered him to shed his baggy pajamas right there in front of her.

”Right now, mister!” she demanded.

”Mom!” Matthew gasped in disbelief. He knew his mother had never cared much about his privacy, but this represented a whole new level of invasion.

”Go ahead. Take them off! This all ends right now,” she announced, still gripping Matt’s right arm.

”I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” he cried. Never before had his mother gone to such extreme lengths to prove a point.

”I’ve had enough of this, Matthew. Now take your clothes off or do I have to do it for you?”

Shocked and bewildered by his mother’s demands, Matt felt himself again enter that strange dream-state, where reality and perception contradicted each other. Almost unaware of his actions, he unclenched his left hand and allowed his oversized pajama pants to puddle at his feet. Patricia then methodically stripped the roomy shirt from his shoulders.

”Now,” Patricia said in a composed voice. “Look in that mirror and tell me what you see.”

Tears began to wet his eyes as Matthew reluctantly turned his sights on the mirror and his reflection.

”An eighteen-year-old is a grown man,” she explained, standing next to her naked son. “With certain features. I’m sure your sex ed class last year taught you that much.”

”But Mom...“ his voice sounded increasingly whiny and girlish.

”You have the body of a thirteen-year-old, Matthew,” Patricia continued. “Now that’s nothing to be ashamed about, OK? Everybody has to go through puberty and I know it’s tough. Things change. Your body matures and hormones are running wild. But you have to get it through your head, Matthew. You still have a lot of growing up to do.”

Matthew listened to his mother’s words, all the while staring at his barely pubertal physique. Once more reality slammed into him like a subway train. How could he argue with his own reflection? At the same time he knew this whole scenario reeked of injustice. Covering his privates with his hands, Matt endeavored to stave off tears, but even the impulse to cry seemed much stronger now.

”Now, honey,” Richard said, hanging back in the doorway. “You’re embarrassing him. Matt is a teenager.”

”I know, dear, but Matthew needs to understand that being thirteen does not entitle him to act like this,” Patricia maintained.

”Matt, get dressed. Your mother has made her point.”

With that, Matt quickly hoisted his overlarge pajama pants back up his skinny, hairless legs. As he reapplied his clothes he heard his parents continue to argue in the hallway.

”I know that, Pat, but how would you feel if your mom made you undress in front of her at thirteen...“

”That’s not the point. I was merely...“

”He’s a young man, Patricia. He’s not a little boy. You can’t just parade him around naked...“

But more and more Matthew did feel like a little boy. Already his independence seemed a thing of the past. Every day his maturity was reduced - slowly chiseled away like a statue being whittled down. Everything was shrinking. His privileges, his familial status, his vocal chords, and even his penis. And the only advice his parents had was to pray.

Secretly, Matt wondered if his mom and dad truly had won God’s favor somehow. And his gradual reduction in age was their first answered prayer. The image of the kids at Altar Chat came back to him and he started to imagine himself as one of them - young, obedient, and gullible. Even if his parents weren’t to blame, he could see them willingly going along with “God’s plan.” No doubt Candace’s parents would feel the same way. None of them cared about their kids’ right to grow up, to mature and come to their own opinions and beliefs.

They wanted good little Christian children.

 

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