The Strawberry Pair

Chapter 1
The Strawberry Pair

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Chapter Description: This story is done in the style of little trip, meaning it is darker and crueller than lola trechlyn stories. While this story is nonviolent, it is exceedingly graphic and contains unbirthing.

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little trip

the strawberry pair

for jared

One.

-- By the people, for the little people!

-- Here’s how we like to start off the set!

Ben Weasel stood in a firm stance on the wooden stage, halfway kneeling, spitting lyrics into a microphone he gripped with both hands. Amplifiers stacked on either side of him blared ferocious riffs generated by the intensity of the band’s guitarists. The warehouse was packed bodies-deep with fans; the entire venue was a pit, and whoever wasn’t jumping and screaming along with the lyrics was slamming into somebody else.

One of the people doing the moshing was Jared. At 30 years old, he was among the upper age tier of fans at the show, and in fact worked in an office by day. But the days of the stereotypical punk had long since passed, and Jared didn’t feel the least bit out of place. He was having the time of his life. He hoped his date was, too.

She wasn’t. Jared glanced over at Erica just in time to see her forehead collide with the leather jacket of the gentleman in front of her.

-- Girls! Girls! Please try and control yourselves!

-- Drop your panties after the show!

Erica shot Jared a look of pure venom. She had overdressed, having figured that, when Jared suggested a “show” for a first date, the twosome would end up seated side-by-side in a theater as skilled actors performed one of the Shakespearean plays she was currently studying at university. The man who had so brazenly charmed her did not arrive as advertised.

Jared turned back to face the stage and resumed shoving. He was mildly disappointed in the feedback he was receiving -- Erica shot daggers rather adroitly -- but he wasn’t about to let it ruin his evening.

The band’s frontman stood straight up and pointed out at the crowd as he sang.

-- Fall into line, or you’ll be left behind,

-- And whatever you do, don’t grow up.

Two.

Jared glanced at his rearview mirror as the warehouse began to fade into the distance. Energized fans were still filing out of it, cheering at the night sky.

He turned to his left. “So, did you have a good time?”

Erica sat stiffly, her arms crossed, her blood seeming to boil beneath her skin. She was looking out the window at the passing factory lights.

Jared waited out five seconds of silence, then said, “Well, I sure did.” His date turned to look at him.

“I get dressed for dinner and a show,” Erica finally spat. “You bring me flowers. ‘Fine man,’ I’m thinking. ‘This could be a lovely evening.’ You take me out for pints, like a schoolboy on a budget. Then you drive me 70 bloody kilometers to some hollowed-out warehouse in Slough to listen to a rock band called the Screaming Weevils.”

“Screeching Weasel, baby,” said Jared, his eyes transfixed on the road in front of him.

“Don’t even,” Erica said. “There’s only one ‘baby’ in this car, and he’s driving it. Just take me home.”

Jared retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one of the last ones out with his teeth. He held the pack out to Erica.

“Smoke?” he asked. “Calm you down?”

Erica grabbed the pack, lowered the car window, and tossed it out. “I told you I hate that shit.”

“Shock horror,” Jared deadpanned as he lit his cigarette. “Erica hates something.”

Those were the last words spoken between them until Jared pulled into the drive encircling Erica’s campus house. He shifted into park but left the motor running, not expecting to be invited in.

Erica pushed open the passenger side door a few centimeters, stopped, and sighed.

“You did pay for the entire night,” she conceded, glancing at Jared, who was rubbing his temples in equal parts exhaustion and resignation. “Wait right here. Lemme run in. I’ve got something for you. Just, I’ll bring it out to you.”

Jared managed a smile. “Right.” He watched Erica walk briskly into her house, the curves of her body motioning enticingly with each purposeful step. Jared adjusted his position to account for the sudden stirring in his pants. The evening may have been a total bust, he thought, but at least he’d go home with something by which to remember her.

That “something” turned out to be the inexpensive bouquet of flowers with which he had first greeted her, thrust through the open car window and into Jared’s face. The sweet-smelling plants lay strewn across his lap and the floor of his car as the man blinked away some vase water that had flown into his eyes.

“Prat,” Erica declared. She returned to her house, slamming the door behind her.

Good job I didn’t bring her the collected works of Shakespeare, thought Jared.

He shifted into drive, licking a droplet of water from his lips. It tasted like flowers. The taste lingered on his tongue, growing increasingly sour and tiresome as he made his way home.

Three.

Sullen and numb, Jared got out of his car, entered his building, and pushed the button for the lift.

His internal monologue was identical to that of every other night of his that ended in this manner. Why do I keep doing this? Anger, frustration, regret... after so long? And why do I make other people deal with it?

Jared got on the lift and pushed the button for his floor. He knew exactly the answers to these questions, as he’d run through them in his head a million times prior. It seemed so recently to him that he had been a perfect gentleman, late 20s, successful enough to attract women, courteous enough to treat them properly. When things had to end, they ended amicably. Gifts were exchanged and civil farewells were said. Then... she happened. And Jared knew he’d never have to say farewell again.

Ding.

The lift doors opened. Devon was standing right in front of them.

“‘Ey!” Devon said to his faraway friend with a smile.

“Christ, Devon,” Jared said after skipping a breath. “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.”

Devon shrugged and stepped out of the way. “Sorry about that, mate.” He walked down the hallway a bit and stood in his usual chatting pose, propping himself up against the wall with his upper arm, hand in pocket, knee bent outward.

Jared walked out of the lift and turned to Devon, adequately hiding the fact that he’d rather just go to his flat.

“I thought you had a shift or something,” Jared said.

“Ahh, they’ll get on without me for a while if you keep your story short,” smiled Devon. He pulled a keyring out of his pocket and spun it idly on his index finger -- a tic he’d had for several years. One of the keys on it was Jared’s spare, which he had given to his best friend shortly after he’d locked himself out of his flat for the first time. “So, how’d it go?”

“It went shit, that’s how it went.”

Devon clicked his tongue and shook his head, his smile fading to half. “I’m sorry to hear that, mate. What happened?”

Jared just looked at Devon, silent and unblinking.

Devon caught the batch of keys he’d been spinning in his fist, and their jangling stopped. “Oh, don’t tell me! Her again!?”

Jared shrugged. “She was the one, Dev. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore.”

Devon slid his keyring back into his pocket, walked up to his friend, and put the palm of his hand on Jared’s shoulder. Devon looked at him very sincerely.

“She clearly wasn’t, or she’d be on your arm right now. You gotta let her go, Jared. You’re making yourself sick. And you’re making everyone else sick, talking like a teenager who thinks he’s the only bloke on the planet who’s ever been dumped. Right?”

Jared shrugged Devon’s hand off his shoulder. He didn’t like being touched, and he wasn’t a fan of Devon’s gift for candor, and he hated knowing that his best friend was right.

“I just want to be a part of her life again,” said Jared, his voice cracking a bit. “I don’t want anything more than that. I don’t want anything other than that.”

Devon shook his head.

“Well, you can’t have that. Think of something else, mate.” Devon gave his friend as compassionate a look as he could muster before turning and heading for work.

Halfway to the lift, Devon looked over his shoulder. “By the way, where’d you take her?”

Jared didn’t look up while he fiddled with the key in his lock. “Punk rock concert.”

Devon laughed and shook his head as he pushed the button. “Punk rock concert,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Don’t ever change, Jared. Don’t ever change.”

Four.

He had to walk past the framed photographs of the two of them together whenever he entered his flat. Jared and his ex-(how he hated that prefix)-girlfriend, perpetually smiling, always hugging. Absorbing the purest greens of rolling countrysides. Clinking glasses at a pub, surrounded by newly-met friends. That beautiful spring weekend in St. Albans, where they made love for the very first time.

The frames sat proudly and well-dusted on the table to the left of the entryway. To the right, an identical table... one for junk mail and a phone book he’d never bothered to get rid of, upon which he tossed his keys every evening. But the table to the left... spotless, unfettered, a shrine to happier times.

Her name was Alex. When they met, she was 16, a first-year Applied Sciences student at City and Islington. Jared had been in London on business and was burning the last few hours of his night at a pub, not looking for anyone or anything in particular. Alex had approached him-- an atypical reversal that caused Jared to smile both inside and out.

“You look tired,” she said, taking the stool next to him.

Jared smiled. “You certainly don’t.” It wasn’t the most charming line the man had ever said, but it seemed serviceable at that late hour.

They talked for several drinks, and even though Jared had won several female hearts in the past, he felt that, this time, his heart was her prize, well-won.

It was the first time since he himself had been in college that, instead of asking a lady home, he asked her for the honor of a date. He got it.

Jared sighed and turned away from the picture frames. Sometimes, they broke his heart. Other times, they made it sing. He knew he had to get rid of them.

He knew he never would.

Five.

Jared kept his bedroom in total disarray. He never intended on anybody seeing it, and thus far, his intentions had come to pass. The contents of its floor told a story Jared wanted no one to hear.

There were ladies’ panties everywhere, strewn about the ground as if the lingerie department of a Debenhams had exploded. They surrounded Jared’s double-bed like a force field, forming a horseshoe shape comprised of various colors, fabrics, and styles. A couple of pairs hung out of a half-shut nightstand drawer. Another pair was slung over a lampshade -- probably, Jared concluded, out of laziness, or maybe they served as a sort of emergency security blanket he could grab in the middle of the night. He didn’t know for sure. Jared’s mind tended to blur in the presence of the garments.

He hadn’t bought any of them-- they had all been gifts from ex-girlfriends and one-night stands. If Jared trusted the girl, if they had been going out for some time and had begun to reveal their respective secrets, he would confess to how much he enjoyed having them around; she would then be only so happy to provide a pair, sometimes several, to the forthcoming and charming man. If he and a girl were in the farewell stages of a one-night stand, be it late evening or early morning, Jared would politely ask that she leave her current pair behind. More often than not, the ladies were flattered by the request, and happily returned home without them.

The girls never asked questions. Perhaps he was an unusual breed of collector; maybe he appreciated mementos of people and moments for whom and which he cared deeply; for all they knew, he wore them.

The reality was much less elegant. The stench of stale semen rose high in the air as Jared surveyed his inner sanctum. The room which had once been so immaculate -- the room in which he and Alex had shared so many passionate rendezvous -- had become a filthy repository for dozens upon dozens of loads of dried cum, staining most of the panties and merely stiffening portions of the rest.

In the days before and during Alex, Jared had been more vigilant about caring for his acquisitions. They would get laundered, folded, and lovingly stored in a bureau drawer.

Since Alex left him, Jared’s level of dejection had become so great that he tended merely to blow his load into a pair and toss it aside. There had been a brief period of time when Jared retained the option of sneaking his few pairs of abused panties and thongs into a launderette among his own clothes, but those days were a distant memory. The man couldn’t conceive of being able to drag three full baskets of cum-encrusted panties down to the basement of his own building, let alone the establishment down the street.

Whenever he walked into his bedroom, all Jared could smell was himself masturbating.

His self-esteem damaged enough and in hopes of covering up the stench with something equally objectionable but much less humiliating, Jared reached in futility for his pack of cigarettes before remembering what had happened to it.

Jared felt like a teenage boy who’d just learned how to make his cock spit, but was still too young to do anything cool with it.

Six.

The package had been sent from Islington. It bore Alex’s name and had arrived at Jared’s flat two months prior. Jared knew exactly what was inside -- exactly, right down to the design -- but he had never opened it. Instead, after abandoning the idea of going back out for more cigarettes, he had walked to his bureau drawer and removed the small parcel-- the one thing he still kept stored away. Out of sight, out of mind.

But it was in his mind tonight.

Still holding the item, Jared turned around and surveyed his bed and its surroundings again. It was because he knew what Alex had sent him that Jared had declined to open the package. He didn’t want its contents to become a part of the tableau before him. He didn’t want Alex’s parting gift to him to become just another filthy cumrag, tossed unceremoniously atop a pile of other filthy cumrags, many of which had been given to him by girls whose names he couldn’t remember, or didn’t even ask for in the first place.

But his cock was twitching in his pants just holding the parcel. Jared was exhausted, and he was bereft, but he was still a man. And ever since the first time he jerked himself off as a boy, the only thing other than an orgasm that would permit him to sleep was booze, and he was fresh out.

Jared didn’t want any of the panties dropped carelessly on the floor. He wanted what he was holding in his hands. His heart told him so. His penis told him so, stiffening steadily and leaking fluid into his pants, leaving an expanding dark spot at its head. Jared whined like a child agonizing over whether he should go for the cookie jar... then he opened Alex’s package.

They were his favorite panties of Alex’s, and she had known it. The girl had teased him by wearing them only very rarely, often beginning a morning after lovemaking with a deliberately theatrical “Welllll... which panties shall I wear today?” and capping it off by selecting the most mundane or commonplace pair that was handy.

Alex had always chosen “the strawberry pair” -- colloquially named by the couple for the lone strawberry icon embroidered to the left of the crotch -- whenever she and Jared went out to the clubs. All she would have to do during drinking or dancing was pull the waistline of her jeans down just enough to reveal the pure pink waistband to Jared’s gaze. Fifteen seconds later, Alex would snap her jeans back into place, reach over to her boyfriend’s crotch, and feel up the unbearably rock-hard erection he had developed.

She liked watching Jared’s eyes fall shut and a quiet, needful moan escape from between his lips. She liked having such primal control over him in public. Alex would usually do this several times a night, feeling Jared’s crotch get damper and damper with need at every sensual clutch. Her pet was grateful for the cover of darkness.

Once in a while, Jared came excruciatingly close to cumming his pants. But she’d never let him. Not until they got home.

And now, the strawberry pair was in his hands.

Jared dropped the remnants of the packaging and shoved his nose into the fabric of the panties, inhaling deeply. He could tell they had been laundered, softened, and apparently spritzed with a perfume he couldn’t recall Alex ever having worn. The pink waistband was pristine. The strawberry was there, just as Jared remembered, inviting him to revisit earlier, better times.

In his head, he saw Alex -- wearing the strawberry pair, but otherwise beautifully naked -- dancing for Jared, her perfect breasts bouncing gracefully with every motion. He saw her gliding lightly on her feet, saw the twisting majesty of her thin, curvy legs as she spun, saw her gorgeous rear end shaping the back of her panties and the lips of her vagina shaping the fabric between her thighs.

Jared came excruciatingly close to cumming his pants.

He picked up the packaging, simply to double-check for a letter, a note, a sketch... anything. All he had was the strawberry pair.

It was more than enough-- Alex’s final love letter to Jared.

I’m going to be a part of her life again.

Seven.

In a frenzy, Jared began ripping off his clothes, first kicking his shoes across the room. Each hit the far wall with a thump. He knew he needed to get his pants off as quickly as possible, to expose his cock to the open air so that it wasn’t touching anything that might set it off-- besides, his crotch was so drenched in pre-cum that it looked as if he’d awoken mid-piss.

All the while, Jared was clutching the strawberry pair so tightly that his knuckles were white. It was a big risk. The man knew that if the fabric so much as brushed against his penis unexpectedly, his fun would be cut dramatically short. But he couldn’t make himself drop the panties, or even set them down for a single second. They had become an extension of his body.

His pants off and kicked aside, his soaking underwear having joined them, Jared sat his naked ass on the edge of his bed and began fiercely tearing at his socks with his free hand. His cock was bobbing, dripping long strings of clear fluid onto the now-worthless panties on the floor between his legs.

When his feet were free, Jared wiggled his toes in anticipation. It took but one smooth motion to pull his t-shirt over his head and add it to his own pile of discarded clothing.

It was at this moment that he glanced up and saw himself in the mirror, a full-length mounted to the wall running parallel to the side of his bed. He saw a well-built 30-year-old, naked and excited, clutching onto a pair of his ex-girlfriend’s panties with such fervor that anybody who dared attempt to snatch them from him would draw back a stump. None of this was surprising to Jared.

What was surprising to Jared was that he looked... happy.

Next, he stripped his bed of everything except the mattress sheet and his pillows. Linens, blanket, comforter, the few stray pairs of panties that were entangled among their folds and forgotten-- it all had to go. Jared wanted complete freedom of movement.

He lit the lamp upon his nightstand. The pair of panties he had slung over its shade was casting a shadow over the strawberry pair he held in his other hand. In a fury, Jared whipped them off and tossed them among the others. Then he leapt up and made for the switch near the door to his bedroom, extinguishing the overhead light and leaving a trail of clear, sticky fluid on the floor behind him.

Jared whipped around to face the bed and grinned. The light being cast upon the bed by his lamp was a gentle and inviting one.

Just like how Alex and I made love whenever we were out of candles.

The enraptured man returned to his bed and immersed himself in the glow of the lamp. Jared nestled his head into the comfort of his pillow, stretching his whole body outward, allowing his cock to reach into the air untouched and drip pre-cum down its underside.

Turning his head to the side and merely looking at the panties he gripped as a child would a security blanket, Jared was in heaven. Alex’s essence was sewn into the fabric of the strawberry pair. He would get to be with her tonight.

Jared sighed contentedly, and began.

Eight.

Jared dangled the strawberry pair over his face, his arms raised high above him, either index finger stretching the panties apart at the pink waistband. It was a convincing simulation of how he and Alex would sometimes begin-- Jared lying flat on his back, Alex kneeling on either side of his head, teasing him with her clothed but dampening cunt barely a dozen or so centimeters away from his face. She would lower herself just enough to get him to lunge his tongue upwards -- then she’d raise herself up again, the tip of her boyfriend’s tongue missing the treasure between her thighs by mere millimeters.

“If you can lick my panties, I’ll let you eat me out through them.”

Jared lowered the panties towards his face, stuck his tongue out towards their lowermost point, and jerked them back up again before they made contact. He repeated this motion several times, each time whining a little louder in mock defeat, his toes beginning to curl in pleasure. At last, Jared allowed himself to touch his tongue to the strawberry pair, and he let his head sink back into his pillow in relief.

“Thaaat’s a good boy! I knew you could reach them if you wanted it badly enough.”

He did want it badly, and in seconds, Jared was eating out the strawberry pair. His nostrils were inundated with the scent of the unusual perfume Alex had treated them with, but he didn’t care. He licked, he teased, he felt phantom juices run down his cheeks.

“Oh... God, yes, right there... Mmm, I should’ve let you do this right away... But my little boy needs to learn the importance of hard wor--OHHH...”

Jared moaned into the panties and felt the specter of his ex-girlfriend have an orgasm. He was having a fine time himself, sticky liquid dripping down his scrotum and soaking into the mattress sheet between his legs. Jared and Alex had tried a million kinky angles during their relationship-- they had discovered together that being spoken to like a child was what drove him wild with the most intensity.

And driven wild he was. He didn’t want the experience to end so soon, but Jared was no longer acting of his own volition... and there would always be tomorrow.

Jared swallowed the lump in his throat, moved the strawberry pair down to his throbbing cock, and, utilizing every ounce of ejaculatory control he could muster, gently draped the crotch of the panties over its leaking head. He wrapped the fabric around his flesh with his fist.

This is lovemaking.

He gave it one tug.

Delicious electricity tore through his body and a billion klaxons went off in his head. His balls, hot and full and screaming for relief, sent their payload through the shaft of Jared’s penis with animalistic ferocity. The first ejaculation burst from his aching head with such force that most of it shot clear through the fabric of Alex’s panties, arced through the air, and splattered on Jared’s belly.

Jared screamed his ex-girlfriend’s name as another contraction sent an enormous load of cum out from between his legs. The man was quivering and yelling unintelligibly, and most of this load ended up streaking across the linen between his legs. Jared bucked his ass upward into the air as he shot wad after wad, these managing to stay largely within the confines of the panties’ crotch, ballooning it up a bit before the warm substance began to leak out and drip over his hand.

Jared was in such brilliant, insatiable, transcendently satisfying agony that he wanted to cry. His orgasm seemed to last forever; the strawberry pair got wetter and hotter; his hand dripped with seed.

After seven or eight blank shots, the revelry seemed to be over. Jared forced his ass into the air one last time, as far as he could push himself, and he felt his cock twitch the last few drops of semen out of his body.

Jared fell back to the bed, hard, unconscious.

Nine.

Sunlight poured in through slits in the windowblinds. When its rays struck Jared’s eyelids, the stimulated flaps of skin quivered open.

Jared was still on his back, his head sunken into the pillow, his hand still swaddling his cock with Alex’s panties. The cum streaking his torso and the back of his hand had dried and crusted over, and his crotch itched horribly. Jared peeled the panties away from his genitals, which were clearly too overworked to produce morning wood; his cock just flopped over his balls, aching and dotted with flecks of dried semen.

“Shower,” he mumbled groggily, to any invisibles in the room who appreciated the obvious.

Yet, he still didn’t feel like letting go of the strawberry pair. More than simply feeling as if he’d earned them with his misery, he knew in some practically-inaccessible corner of his mind that their presence against his skin fulfilled a deep psychological longing. Jared concluded that he’d simply walk to the bathroom and figure out what to do with them at that point.

I feel like a teenager again, he thought with a smile.

Jared sat up, swung his legs over the side of his bed, planted his feet upon the jungle of panties on the floor, and glanced at himself in the mirror.

His smile disappeared. He was a teenager again.

What. The. Fuck.

His mouth agape, Jared looked himself over, concluding that he had somehow become 17 or 18 years old overnight. He touched his chest in awe. Much of his muscle mass had melted away, and his hair was sparser and downier. The reversal of over a decade of alcohol use and heartache had filled in the tiny pits that had begun to push into the skin of his face.

The realization that he had actually regressed in age, about which he had always been wont to fantasize, had a far more obvious and immediate biological effect between his legs.

Jared looked down in time to witness blood pumping into the tissues of his cock... hard. His tool had begun limp-- with one twitch, it stood at half-mast. With another uncontrollable contraction of Jared’s muscles, his cock reached full length. And then it was fully engorged by the strongest and most powerful erection the man could recall ever having.

He moaned out loud. Jared could feel his balls filling up with sperm, producing millions of them per second as if the teenager had to make up for the 13 years’ worth of orgasms that had been stripped away from him overnight. His glands were working overtime to produce the sugary fluids necessary to deliver all those cells healthfully and efficiently out of his penis and towards an egg.

Jared realized it was true-- 13 years of lust had flushed their way back into his genitals, needing to be let out all over again.

In seconds, the teenager was on his back, masturbating. He was beating off like a lunatic, keeping the strawberry pair far away from his cock for the time being, wanting this next orgasm to really take, to allow him some relief so he could begin his new life as a young man.

With his free hand, Jared alternated between stroking his aching dick and fondling his balls, which were already as large as they’d ever been. His toes curled up tightly against his feet. He wanted to suck on them, just as he’d sucked on Alex’s, sometimes driving her to orgasm on the strength of that sensation alone.

Other images flashed through his head like a film reel being played at double speed. Making out with Alex in her twin-sized bed. Sucking on her nipples. Being spanked while the love of his life, many years his junior, told him what a naughty little boy he’d been--

“Oh, fuck it,” Jared gasped between breaths, and he brought the strawberry pair down to his cock and gripped around it, delivering one final jerk.

The torrent of hot young spunk that erupted from his cock was unimaginable in its strength and quantity. Jared came like a fountain, his first contraction alone ejaculating two full tablespoons of semen very near to the ceiling. It rained down between his legs just in time for him to launch another arc of cum, this one striking his navel, filling it up, and spilling lines of the warm fluid down either side of his abdomen.

For a full minute, Jared seized on the bed, pumping endless loads into the crotch of Alex’s panties. What wasn’t absorbed by the fabric dripped down the creases between the boy’s legs and pooled beneath his ass, which was bouncing up and down in lustful spasms he couldn’t control.

Ultimately, the pleasure turned to pain, and Jared just wanted it to end. With a few final, weak squirts -- ejaculations anybody else would have considered normal for a first contraction -- the nightmare was over. Jared lay limp in his own pubescent slop, the strawberry pair dangling wetly over his deflating cock.

Weakened, but feeling oddly rejuvenated, Jared turned his head to face the mirror on the wall, only to find a 12-year-old version of himself staring back.

Ten.

Horrified, Jared clutched pathetically at the little dick between his legs.

“This isn’t mine!” he howled. “THIS ISN’T MINE!!”

All of Jared’s darker body hair had been sucked back beneath his skin, save for some wisps beneath his armpits, and the thin, downy beginnings of a bush surrounding his penis.

Just by sitting up and looking in the mirror, the boy could tell that almost all of his adult development was gone. His shoulders were slumping, he was scrawny where once there had been great musculature, and the only hair on his legs and arms was bleach-white and incidental.

The mere thought of it made all seven centimeters of his dick spring to attention.

“No...” he whined. “No...”

Beyond all control and in spite of all rational thought, Jared started to jerk off. He didn’t bother to lie back down. He wanted to see what would happen.

And I want this, he thought as he slid the strawberry pair, held fast by two curled-up fingers, up and down his organ. I always have. Somewhere deep inside my heart... to be a little boy... ag... agai--

Jared had another orgasm. Fortunately for his sanity, he had not yet begun producing sperm, and all that ended up in the crotch of his ex-girlfriend’s panties were a few squirts of useless, clear fluid.

His head was spinning, but not so much that he couldn’t bear witness to what was happening to his body at an almost frightening pace. Jared’s pubic and underarm hair vanished back into his body. Pockets of baby fat began developing along his chest, converting his nipples into sensitive pink dimes. Another wave of fat rippled down his abdomen and along his legs as his body visibly shrunk in height by nearly 100 centimeters. Jared parted his lips and grinned into the mirror, shocked as all the permanent teeth he had earned by age 12 drew back up into his skull, awkwardly-spaced baby teeth appearing in their place.

Jared was five years old, and he was hard. He began to cry.

Eleven.

He cried as he repositioned himself to lie down on the bed because he no longer wanted to watch. He cried because he was made to squirm around in his own bodily fluids-- stuff he wouldn’t be able to make again for eight or nine years. He cried because he realized he was loving every minute of it. And he cried because crying simply turned him on.

Little Jared stuck the thumb of his free hand into his mouth and started to suck, a soothing habit the pleasures of which he had long ago forgotten. He didn’t know whether he wanted to go back any further. Who was going to take care of him? Where was he going to end up?

But the childish impulsivity characteristic of his age overrode all rationality. Resiliently, he wrapped the strawberry pair around the thingy between his legs, gave his thumb another suck, and tugged.

When Jared was done quivering, he realized he was sucking much more needfully on his thumb, with a mouth that had far fewer teeth in it. He retained all of his intelligence, reason, and memories, but his emotional state had become unstable. He sniffled, and a few genuine tears came to his eyes. Jared was ashamed of what he had allowed himself to do.

He rose up on his elbows and looked down. Jared considered how short he was, how pudgy his body had become, and how unsure he felt about doing much of anything anymore.

He popped his thumb out of his mouth.

“I’m... a baby,” the two-year-old squeaked. Suddenly, Jared was very, very scared. “I’m a baby!!”

When the genuine toddler tears came, so did the pee. Jared didn’t even realize he was pissing himself until he felt the wave of warmth soak beneath his bottom.

Jared shrieked a pitiful “Naw!” between sobs when he looked down and saw his urine flood uncontrollably out of him. In a panic, and finally liberated from any semblance of sexual desire, he finally let go of the strawberry pair, sliding it beneath his pillow so it wouldn’t be damaged by his accident.

He had no idea how to stop it. Jared cried even harder, bawling, as he futilely clasped the palms of his hands to his crotch. All that succeeded in doing was soaking his hands in warmth and splashing his pee against his chubby little thighs.

He crossed his legs and pushed harder, but it was useless. He didn’t know which muscle did what anymore, and Jared could only wait until he felt the dribbling against his hands cease.

Jared uncrossed his legs, which slid slickly against a miserable, warm, sticky mixture of cum and pee. He looked at the palms of his hands. They were dripping with urine. Now he couldn’t even suck his thumb.

All he could do was close his eyes and cry, and that’s exactly what he did.

“My, my, such a racket in here!”

A familiar voice. Jared stopped sniveling. His eyes snapped open.

“Alex?”

Twelve.

The 18-year-old girl sauntered into the bedroom. “Bloody hell, sweetheart. Just look at the mess you’ve managed to make.”

Jared clasped his hands back over his penis.

“Right,” Alex said with a chuckle. “Like I haven’t seen it -- done wonderful things to it -- a thousand times before.” She unslung a backpack from her shoulder and set it on the floor, kicking several pairs of crusty, stained panties out of the way. “Your housekeeper retired, I see.”

The baby could only gape and blink silently for a few minutes before finally speaking again. “H-how did you--”

“Get in here?” finished Alex. She slapped a small piece of metal atop Jared’s bureau. “Spare key.”

“Devon--”

“Gave it to me last night,” Alex explained, unzipping her backpack, “after picking me up from City and Islington.”

Little Jared watched in shock and confusion as Alex removed a changing pad from her backpack and unfolded it along the floor.

“He really does care about you,” continued Alex. “You picked a good best mate.”

“He had a shift last night,” said Jared.

“No, he had a job last night-- and as soon as he saw how you were looking and acting after your date went pear-shaped, that job became taking care of you. Which meant sitting outside the door to your flat, waiting to hear you holler my name out in orgasm. That was his signal to drive down and pick me up. He knew it meant you were finally using the strawberry pair.”

“You’re not saying--”

“That he was in on it? That’s exactly what I’m saying. He agreed with me that you needed this. He agreed that something had to be done for your aching heart. Now, where are they?”

The dumbstruck Jared retrieved Alex’s panties from beneath his pillow and held them out towards the side of the bed. His semen was still dripping from its crotch.

Alex grasped them by the pink waistband with her thumb and forefinger. “Christ, I’m impressed. Too bad it couldn’t hold more. Looks like your mattress sheet took the brunt of the attack.”

Jared blushed.

The girl sniffed one of the few remaining “clean” parts of her panties. “Ahh... you can still smell the potion.”

“Potion?”

“Is there an echo in the building?” Alex chuckled. “Potion. P-O-- oh, well, I’m sure you’ll relearn how to spell words later.”

“I know how to spell words,” Jared spat, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Not for very much longer,” Alex said, setting the strawberry pair on the radiator and turning the device up to a warm level. “Did you know that sperm can fertilize an egg for a whole hour, even if left in the wide open air, as long as the semen remains moist?”

The two-year-old blinked, unmoving.

Alex towered over her ex-boyfriend on the bed, smiling down at the toddler. “And I’ll bet you haven’t even been awake for that long.” She reached between his legs and toyed with his damp penis. “You’ve just been beating your little dinky senseless, haven’t you?”

“You... you’re gonna give us a child?” he squeaked. “But why?”

“Whoever said anything about that? Can’t a girl just share a fun fact with her little boy?” She lifted Jared up by the armpits, dragging him out of his pool of cum and piss, standing him up at the edge of his bed on his unsteady feet. “Now, are we gonna keep playing 20 Questions, or are you gonna let Mommy clean all the wee-wee and stickies off that cute little tushy of yours?”

Without waiting for an answer, Alex gently guided her ex-boyfriend to the changing pad, standing him up and bracing him, chest and back, securely and safely with her hands.

“Why can’t I howd myself up so good anymowe?”

Alex chuckled. “We’ve been having so much fun, I guess you didn’t even notice. You’re still getting younger. You’re not two years old anymore-- you’re 18 months.

“See,” she continued, beginning to clean the infant Jared with a set of warmed-up baby wipes, “As long as that potion -- the one I soaked the strawberry pair in, I mean -- stays in contact with your skin, you get younger. If it stays in contact with your cock, you get much younger, much faster.

“But there comes a time I like to call ‘the point of no return.’ About two years old. That’s the point when you stop thinking about sexual desire--”

As soon as Alex finished cleaning her ex-boyfriend, saving the crack of his butt for last, she turned him around and looked him straight in the eyes with a smile.

“--and start thinking about being my son.”

Jared was 14 months old. “Wha happen now?”

“Now? Now what I’m going to do is lay this nappy out on the changing pad and set your butt on it, because you’ve got a lot of big-boy poopies in there,” Alex teased, poking Jared’s tummy. He could feel it cramp and grumble. “And when you hit 12 months, it’s aaallllll gonna come out.”

Alex drummed her fingertips gently, playfully, on top of the balding boy’s head. “Along with every little tiny nugget of information you’ve got stored up in here! As well as every memory, every predisposition, every single inclination that makes you you.”

The 13-month-old Jared screwed up his face and whined, whipping his hands around to his butt and clamping his cheeks together as tightly as he could manage. He didn’t want to lose his mind. Or his identity. Or a huge load of shit, onto a nappy, right in front of his ex-girlfriend!

“Don’t do that,” Alex scolded, moving Jared’s hands away. “It’s going to come out one way or the other, and that would be unsanitary.” The girl gently laid her baby boyfriend atop the crinkling nappy as he de-aged to 12 months, 1 day... then raised his ankles gently into the air.

Jared let out a shrieking wail of defeat as he became a one-year-old. The mess started sliding out of his butt immediately, and with it, everything he’d ever learned, everything he’d ever experienced.

He tried to stop that, too, but he no longer understood what a muscle was.

As his mess started piling up into the nappy, Jared lost all his job experience, everything he learned in university, all the homework he struggled with throughout high school. He grunted and pushed. All of the memories he had shared with Alex -- the pubs, the weekend at St. Albans, the past 20 minutes -- gone. All of the memories he’d had with all of his girls... pushed right out of his rear as he struggled to achieve physical relief.

Jared bit his lip and quivered. Another grunt, and more icky feeling. No more reading. No more counting. No more colors. He remembered pre-school, and then he didn’t. He remembered learning the potty chair, and then he didn’t. He remembered how good it had felt as a baby to soak himself, to just let himself go and to feel the warmth spread between his legs and to have someone else have to deal with it... and then... nothing.

Jared’s tummy was empty, and so was his brain. He was six months old. Jared smiled as Alex cleaned his poopy bottom, and he giggled at the spots on the ceiling.

Thirteen.

The tiny infant squirmed happily on the changing pad as Alex began to strip. She unzipped her jeans and pushed them to her ankles, bending over and revealing one of the pairs of mundane panties she’d often used to keep her boyfriend’s level of control over the relationship in check. She glanced over at Jared as she pulled her jeans off her feet; the three-month-old was happily suckling his foot, having managed to cram half of it into his toothless mouth.

Alex slid her panties down her frame and pushed them off her feet, revealing a very neatly-trimmed, almost shaved, pussy. She slid her fingertips along it sensually, closing her eyes and licking her lips at the thought of what she’d managed to do to Jared.

Who, as it happened, was only one month old when Alex walked over to the radiator and retrieved the strawberry pair. To her delight, the semen inside was still warm and oozing, just as she had planned. She knew that the sperm itself was utterly useless for fertilization, but that had never been her intended endgame. She felt a twinge of remorse for having played that mind game with her new son. At least it had kept him complacent in his infancy.

Gently, taking great care not to spill any of the precious liquid sloshing about the crotch, Alex stepped into the panties and pulled them up to just below her knees. She picked up the three-day-old Jared and carefully carried him over to the bed, where the last of his adult legacy was quickly drying. She sat on the edge of the bed, and when her ex-boyfriend regressed to one minute old, she pressed his tiny feet to her cunt.

Alex’s cervix dilated immediately, the result of her having spent months experimenting with various mystic concoctions and preparing herself for precisely this moment. Jared squealed softly in confusion and comfort as he felt his legs enter the warm cavern of Alex’s vagina.

The newborn’s regression sped up, and Alex adjusted her technique accordingly, moaning in slight discomfort as she pushed her once-lover into her body. When Jared’s belly button was inside, an umbilical cord emerged from Alex’s placenta and attached itself to him.

Jared was crying, but only softly. There seemed to be a strange peace about him.

When Alex had her ex-boyfriend’s shoulders inside of her, she knew the worst of it was over. She looked down. Jared had an odd, distant smile on his tiny face as she slid his head through her cervix and became pregnant with him.

Fourteen.

The remainder of the process was very nearly instantaneous. Jared regressed a full nine months’ worth of gestation in a matter of seconds. Alex was prepared for that, as well. She stood up.

She pulled the strawberry pair up to her waist and moaned at the delicious sensation of Jared’s familiar semen against her pussy. Then she doubled over, howled in ecstasy, and felt an enormous load of hot male cum fall out of her vagina and join the mess already in her panties.

It was Jared.

Jared the charmer, Jared the panty-addict, Jared the success story with the broken heart-- was a load of cum.

Helplessly, he mixed with his own cum, already blown in vast quantities into the crotch of the strawberry pair. His essence was literally swimming in the results of his own decisions. But while the remnants of his adult life were useless, his current self was vital. Jared had stuff to do. He had a baby to become.

Alex was only too eager to assist. She returned to her seated position on the side of the bed and slid her hand between her legs. Alex fingered herself through her panties, massaging the hot cum, massaging Jared, against her most private parts. She used her other hand to clutch at her tits from beneath her shirt. She teased her nipples as she slid Jared along her cunt, licking her lips and panting with labored gasps.

The gravity of all that had happened that morning -- of all she had prepared for since the two of them split up -- enhanced her libido such that her orgasm was the strongest she had ever known. Alex screamed, she pounded her heels on the crusty panties on the floor, she forced the strawberry pair as far up inside her as it was willing to go as Jared rushed back into her body.

He was a part of her life again.

Fifteen.

An hour later, Alex had put herself back together well enough to be presentable to the world without arousing suspicion as to the twisted manner in which she spent her morning. Of course, she kept the strawberry pair firmly wrapped around her loins, secured in place with her blue jeans. Her panties were leaking a bit, leaving a stain, but one couldn’t tell unless one was truly looking for it. She found the idea of Jared’s semen pressed against her whenever she wanted oddly comforting, even as he developed inside her.

It was approaching eleven o’clock, and Alex was starving.

“Eating for two now,” she smiled, patting her belly. “Whaddya say, champ? Feel like lunch?”

Alex left Jared’s flat, locking the door behind her with the spare key. She bumped into Devon in the hallway.

“You live out here or something?” she giggled.

Devon smiled, scratching the back of his head. “I sometimes wonder that m’self. Nah, I was just on my way back from the library.”

Alex nodded. “You want the key back?” she asked, offering it in an open palm.

“Nah, mate, you keep it. You need it more than I do now.”

“You don’t want to go in there, anyway. Jared wasn’t living very healthily.”

Devon shrugged. “I’ll help you clean it up sometime.” Alex rubbed her belly and Devon smiled. “You think he’ll be happier this way?”

“I don’t know,” replied Alex. “I don’t think things could’ve gotten much worse.”

“Right,” Devon nodded. “Well, it was good seeing you again, working with you. If you need anything, just telephone.” He began to walk towards his flat.

“Hey, listen...” Alex called after him.

Devon turned around. “Yeah?”

“I was just thinking of going out to lunch,” she said, “you know, for a sandwich or something, before I have to go back to Candi. A friend’s picking me up but I’ve got, like, two hours to kill. Care to join me?”

Devon remained expressionless. He glanced at Alex, then at the door to his flat, taking but a few seconds to make up his mind.

the end

I do commissions -- one at a time -- and I love cooperating with people who hire me. If you want to see what the view is like on the edge, drop me a line in my Mailbox. See you around! : )

 

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