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You’ll Grow Into It

Another old post from DA given new life here. Enjoy!


“Your mother is here,” Dylan said.


“Is she?” Samantha asked, turning to look in the direction he was facing. “Oh, there she is.”


The old woman was standing by the doorway, holding a box tucked under her arm.


“Why is she here?”


“It’s her son-in-law’s birthday.”


“She hates me.”


“She does not hate you.”


“Actually…” he started to argue back, but they were interrupted by a pair of squealing girls chasing each other around them. The whole room was practically crawling with kids in party hats and bathing suits, all hopped up on candy. “This isn’t even my party,” he said.


“There’s a cake for you.”


“It’s my nephew’s party. I just happen to share a birthday. This is my sister’s house. You’re the only person here that’s related to your mother.”


“I’m sure your sister won’t mind her being here. I know they met at our wedding at least.”


Samantha’s mother spotted them at last and gave her daughter a friendly wave and a smile. The smile was less intense when she shifted her attention to Dylan.


“Let’s go say, hello,” Samantha said, taking his hand to drag him over to her mother.


Samantha and her mother gave each other a kiss on the cheek.


Her mother said, “My darling, it’s been too long. How are you?”


“I’m fine,” Samantha said. “How are you?”






“Tired of waiting,” her mother explained. Her eyes followed the kids chasing each other around. “When will I have a grandchild?”


Samantha sighed. “We’ve talked about this, Mom,” she said. “We don’t have a lot of money right now, but Dylan’s career is taking off. We might even be moving soon if he gets a promotion. Too many things are up in the air to start settling down.”


“I see,” her mother said. “Not only are you putting off welcoming a new child into your life, but also you may even be deserting me. Over what? Money? A career?”


“We’re just not ready,” Samantha said.


Her mother eyed Dylan suspiciously. “Or, is that he is not ready?”


He controlled his rising anger and said, “We’ll have a child when we are ready. Now is not the time, though.”


“When, then?” his mother-in-law asked. “There’s never a perfect time. And, if you wait too long… well…”


“Don’t worry,” Samantha said, pulling her mother into a hug. “I promise you’ll have a grandchild soon enough.”


She hugged her daughter back and said, “You are right.” Then she added in a whisper, “Soon.”




Games and toys and splashing through the pool filled out the next hours at the party as the adults chatted and caught up with each other. Then came the time to sing happy birthday to Dylan’s nephew and himself and eat cake and watch as the boy opened presents.


There were only a handful of gifts for Dylan: one from his wife, another from his sister, and a final one from his mother-in-law. Dylan set his gifts aside and watched as his nephew tore through his own gifts, reading cards, tossing wrapping paper and tissue everywhere, shouting out a quick “thank you,” and proceeding on to the next gift to repeat the process. Some gifts were toys, which the boy loved. Others were clothes that were a size too large for him. “You’ll grow into it,” his mother repeated when he complained about it. When the boy was done, most of the kids ran off to play. Dylan was left with his sister, his wife, and his mother-in-law to watch him open his gifts.


Samantha had bought him a nice pen. His sister, Amy, had bought him a new tie pin. Then, there was the box from his mother-in-law. He tore open the package and found a large, hand-knitted sweater inside.


“I made it for you myself,” his mother-in-law said.


It was made of rough burgundy yarn, knitted together from a seemingly simple pattern.


Dylan held the sweater up against his chest to check the size. “This is lovely,” he said, forcing a cheerful tone. “Thank you! It might be a bit large on me, though.”


“Try it on,” the old woman suggested. She seemed to be suppressing an amused smile.


Dylan burrowed into the sweater, feeling a momentary static shock from it as he slipped it on over his shirt. As he had expected, it was too large for him. The bottom of it hung down past his crotch and his hands were lost in the long sleeves.


“Don’t worry,” his mother-in-law said. “What was it you said before, Amy?” she asked his sister. “‘You’ll grow into it?’”


The women shared a chuckle together as Dylan rolled up the sleeves to free his hands.


Amy said, “Well then, let’s head out back and settle in by the pool. I want to keep an eye on the kids.”


Samantha said, “Aren’t there enough adults around to handle it? I’m sure you could use a break for a minute or two.”


“Nah,” Amy said, shaking her head. “I should go. I don’t trust the other adults around here to keep a good eye on the kids. I have five of my own, and I know far too well how much trouble they can be. You have to be firm with ‘em. Too many people let ‘em get away with murder. And, around the pool, that could be a death sentence. Excuse me.”


“I quite agree,” Samantha’s mother said. “Let me join you.”


Amy and the old woman left the room together, having started up a conversation about raising children.


Now that he was alone with his wife, Dylan went to remove the sweater.


Samantha put a hand on his arm and said, “Dylan, leave it on for a little while at least. You’ll insult her if you take it off immediately.”


“It’s too hot out for a sweater,” he countered.


“It’s barely warm enough to go swimming,” she said. “Just keep it on until she leaves, please.”


“Okay,” he said and kissed her.


When their lips parted, he gave her a curious look.


“What is it?” she asked.


He looked down at her feet. “Are you wearing heels?”


She looked down as well, “Not high ones,” she said, showing him a dress shoe with an inch heel on it.


“Strange,” he said. “You seem taller all of a sudden. We’re almost eye to eye.”


“Oh,” she said. “I mean, I’m not that much shorter than you, really.”


“I guess not,” he said, but he could not shake the feeling that something was off.


“Come on,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading him to the door. “Let’s get some fresh air.”




They weaved their way down to the pool and started to circle around it to the far end of the yard where most of the adults were congregated, sitting on lawn furniture and chatting.


Dylan stumbled.


“Are you alright?” Samantha asked, turning back to him.


“I nearly tripped over my own shoe,” he said. “I don’t know how they became so loose all of a sudden.” He knelt down to retie them. “Just a minute,” he said.


“I’ll grab a drink for us,” she said and headed towards the other adults.


He went to work on the knot of one shoe, but his sweater sleeves got in the way again. And, again, he rolled them up to keep them off of his hands. He retied his shoes and stood up again. Now, it felt as though his jeans were too loose as well. They seemed ready to slip off his hips. He wondered if he was losing weight, but he was sure that they had fit him fine when he had put them on.


Dylan scanned around for his wife, feeling that he could use her help figuring out what was going on with his clothes. He spotted her chatting with her mother at a small patio table and started walking their way. As he reached one corner of the pool a pair of surprisingly tall teenaged boys brushed past him heading the other way. He spun slightly to avoid them and ended up tripping over his own shoe. He stumbled and toppled over into the pool. Cool water shot up his into nose and the chlorine in it blinded him. He surfaced a moment later, coughing and gasping for air as he splashed his way over to the edge.


One of the teen boys standing by the edge offered him a hand. “Sorry,” the boy said. “You okay?”


Dylan took the boy’s hand and used it to climb back out of the water. Then, he sat there, dripping on the concrete, his clothes soaked down to his skin. “T-thanks,” he said with more than a trace of sarcasm.


“Dylan?” a woman called.


Looking over his shoulder, he expected to see Samantha coming to check on him, but it was his sister, Amy, instead.


“Are you alright?” she asked him.


He got to his feet, and replied, “I’m not hurt, just wet.” He coughed again, as his voice had sounded strangely higher than normal, probably just a side-effect of the pool water getting in his throat.


“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” Amy said. “Oh, and your phone.”


He took his phone out of his pocket and did not try to turn it on.


“Come on,’ Amy said. “Let’s get that in some rice quickly.”


She hurried towards the house. He tried to keep up with her, but his heels kept slipping out of his shoes, and his heavily soaked jeans were sliding down his legs again and again. Eventually, he made it inside.


“Put the phone in the rice on the counter,” Amy told him, as she walked towards the stairs. “The bathroom is down the hall. I’ll go find you a towel and something to wear.”


He sealed his phone away inside of a food container full of rice and dripped his way over to the bathroom, where he removed his wet clothes. Once he was naked, he was certain that he had lost weight. His body seemed much slimmer than he remembered it being. Even his body hair seemed a bit less noticeable, but he figured that it only appeared that way due to how wet his skin was still.


There was a knock at the door. Amy said, “I’ve got the towel and the clothes for you.”


He opened the door a crack and took the towel and pile of clothes from her.


“And, I’ll take those wet ones from you to hang up to dry,” she said.


He passed his own clothes out to her one by one. Then, he shut the door again. “Thank you,” he croaked and coughed again. What was going on with his voice?


He toweled off and realized that his thinned out body hair was not an illusion caused by the pool water. He seemed to be missing a lot of hair all over, even around his crotch and underarms.


Feeling a bit concerned now, he put on the sweat pants and T-shirt she had given him along with a pair of sandals. It felt good to be wearing something that was both dry and fit him properly. He turned to check his hair in the mirror and let out a shocked gasp when he saw his reflection.


“What the hell happened to me?” he asked, seeing that he appeared to be almost a decade younger all of a sudden. It was not his normal adult face looking back at him but a boy’s face, a teenager barely old enough for high school, it seemed. “Amy?” he called out. He realized, his higher voice seemed much less out of place now. In fact, it fit perfectly with this teenaged body.


There was no reply. Either she did not hear him or she might not have recognized his altered voice.


He hesitated to leave the bathroom. Some part of him worried about how people would react if they saw him like this. Staying there was no better, though. He needed to figure out what was wrong with him. “I need to find Sam,” he told himself.


Dylan checked himself in the mirror one last time before leaving and noticed the crest printed on the front of the T-shirt. “‘Greene High School?’” he said, reading it backwards. “These clothes must have come from one of Amy’s older boys.” The comfort he had felt after putting on something dry was replaced by an uneasy worry about how well he fit into his teenaged nephew’s clothes. Then, there was the question about how he had ended up in them. “Why would Amy give these clothes to me? She would know they’d be too small to fit me, normally.” It made no sense. Not that anything else was making a lot of sense right now, but it was another question to stack on his mental pile of them.


He opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, searching around for anyone he might find in the house. However, it was quiet inside. Everyone seemed to be outside, still.


“Amy?” he called for his sister again.


Again, no reply. The house was deserted.


“Backyard,” he told himself. “Find Sam.” Whatever was going on, he knew he could count on Sam to help him out.


He walked to the kitchen and glanced over at the counter to check on his soaked phone.


“Where is it?” he asked when he saw no sign of it or the container of rice. “What the hell is going on?”


Dylan could feel himself starting to panic now. The disappearance of his phone had reminded him how important it had been to him, not only as a tool but also as a way of identifying himself. Without it, he felt even further from his regular adult life than he already was.


He hurried to the back door, opened it and stepped out into the backyard.




As Dylan approached the pool, he kept an eye out for his wife, but she was not in the chair where he had seen her before going into the house. He did see the teen boys who had accidentally nudged him into the pool. They were sitting at chairs laughing and chatting with each other as they toweled off. He figured they might be able to help him as they had also helped him climb out of the pool.


“Hey,” he said to them.


“Hey,” one of them replied. Dylan recognized him as Amy’s son, his nephew, and probably the owner of the clothes Dylan was wearing right now. Though, for the life of him, he could not remember the boy’s name. “We’re going inside. I’m going to show everybody my new TV. We might do some gaming. You coming with?”


“Uh,” Dylan said. “Actually, I was wondering if any of you had seen Samantha around here. You know, my wife?”


“Your wife?” his nephew said with a smirk. “You trying to be funny?” Some of the other teens chuckled with each other.


“No,” Dylan said. “I’m serious. I need to talk to her. Did anyone see where she went?”


The boys seemed less amused and more concerned then. “You okay, man?” his nephew asked.


“Not exactly,” Dylan said. “That’s why I need to talk to her.”


“You sure you didn’t hit your head falling into the pool?” another boy asked.


“I did not hit my head. Just tell me if you’ve seen my wife or not, please.”


“Man…” his nephew said. “You don’t have a wife. We’re in high school together. I invited you to the party. You came here alone. I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


“No,” Dylan said, shaking his head. “That’s… not what happened.” He was starting to feel uncomfortable around the teen boys, as if his clothes had begun to fit him poorly again. He started to back away from them. “You know what, I’m just going to look for her myself. Excuse me.”


“Dylan?” his nephew said. “Wait.”


Dylan ignored him and kept navigating around the pool. As he went, he realized he was trying to get away from the teens as much as he was trying to find Samantha. Something very strange was going on, and he was close to panicking again. Walking became more awkward since his sweatpants kept trying to slip down his legs. He had to tighten up the drawstring on them a few times as he searched the yard around the pool. However, wherever he looked, he found no sign of her.


“Samantha!” he called out to her, hoping she would hear his voice and find him, but it was not his voice he heard come from his mouth. It was the squeaky high voice of a pubescent boy. “What the hell?” he asked, grasping his throat in his hand and finding no sign of an Adam’s apple or facial hair. Once more, he felt the sweat pants slipping off his hips. When he went to tighten the draw string again, he realized that they were now starting to pool around his ankles as if they had become too long for his legs. “Did I get younger again?” he asked, but the answer was already clear just by listening to the sound of his own voice.


“Samantha?” he called again, now sounding less like a concerned husband and more like a lost child. “Amy?” he tried, hoping that his sister could help him even if his wife could not.


“Dylan?” his sister replied, circling around the pool to him. “What’s the matter?”


“Where is my phone?” he asked her. “Where’s my wife?”


“Did you hit your head?” Amy asked once she reached him after recognizing his obvious confusion. Adding to his increasing horror, he realized that she was considerably taller than him now. “What are you wearing?” she wondered aloud, seeing his oversized clothes.


“You gave me these clothes,” he said. “In the house, after I fell in the pool. They fit me a little while ago. I’m getting smaller… or younger… somehow. This is… crazy. What’s happening to me?”


“Come into the house,” she said, gently taking his hand in hers to lead him back over there. He let her take control of the situation as he had become too distraught to consider resisting her guidance. He had to hold up his sweatpants with his free hand to keep them from falling down his legs.


Dylan entered the house in a daze, his mind overwhelmed by all the changes he was experiencing. Amy led him into a back room and told him to lie down on a couch while she found something fitting for him to wear. Again, he followed her guidance and lay down.


Amy returned a few minutes later with a T-shirt and pair of gym shorts in her hands. “Put these on,” she said. “We can figure out what’s really the matter once you’re dressed in something that fits.” She handed him the clothes. Then, she turned around, and he took that as an indication that he should get dressed while she was looking the other way.


He stood up, and the large sweat pants slipped down his smooth legs all on their own. Then, he pulled the high school T-shirt up over his head and dropped it at his feet. He stared in silence at the skinny, hairless body below, stunned by the sight of his prepubescent features. He doubted he was even 12 years old now, probably only barely old enough for middle school. He was a kid, not even half as old as he had been earlier that day.


“Are you finished getting dressed?” Amy asked him without turning around to look at him.


“One second,” he said, stepping out of his sweat pants and into the gym shorts. Then, he pulled on the new T-shirt. Some unfamiliar cartoon character was printed on the front of it in bright colors. “Done.”


She turned to face him. “Where’s your mother?” she asked him.


“My mother-in-law, you mean?” he said. Thinking about her gave him ideas. “I don’t know. Maybe she and my wife went somewhere earlier. They could have gone for a walk or something, you know, to catch up on things alone. That could be where they are.”


She put a hand on his forehead and held it there for a moment. “You don’t feel like you have a fever. Did you hit your head? Do you feel dizzy?”


“I’m fine!” he said. “I don’t feel dizzy. I’m just… not myself for some reason. I’ve turned into a little kid. Can’t you see that?”


“You don’t look any different to me,” she said.


“What?” he said. “How can you not see that I’ve changed. Amy, I’m your brother. We grew up together. You don’t remember that?”


“You’re confused,” she said. “You’re one of Michael’s friends. You came to the party with your mother and grandmother, I think. Just have a seat for a minute. I’ll try to find them. Don’t wander off.”


He considered arguing but realized that there was no point to it. If she did not recognize him as her own brother, then anything he said would only make him seem even crazier than she already thought he was. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay. I’ll wait here. Please, hurry.”


“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute or two.”


He sat on the couch and watched her leave. Then, when he was alone, he held up his hands to examine them. They were so small and smooth. All the hardness of adulthood had softened away, leaving them innocent and delicate. He used those hands to explore his body, running them up his skinny arms to his cheeks, finding no trace of stubble on his face. Then, down they went and pulled open the front of his shorts and probed his crotch, astounded by how small and hairless and insensitive to stimulation he had become down there. He was so small now that he almost seemed as though he were shrinking while he touched himself.


However, what at first had seemed like an exaggeration of his senses became undeniably real when he felt his feet lift off the ground. He pulled his hands out of his shorts and watched as his legs lost length and thickness right before his eyes. Again, he looked at his hands and arms, watching as they too diminished, getting smaller and younger, years of growth fading away in seconds.


“Why?” he asked, hearing his voice squeaking even higher. “What’s doing this to me?” He could feel his clothes getting looser. A sensation that he had become far too familiar with today. “Wait,” he said. “Every time I put on new clothes, I change. Maybe…” He yanked off the T-shirt and squirmed his way out of his shorts. As soon as he was naked, the shrinking stopped.


“That’s it!” he said, wincing at how babyish his voice sounded now. “That’s what was making me younger. Anytime I put on clothes, I shrink too small to fit them. It all started when…” He thought about his mother-in-law and her gift and the words she spoke to him. “‘You’ll grow into it,’” he quoted her. “That old witch. She did this to me, didn’t she? I don’t know how, but it had to have been her. This all started after she gave me that damned sweater. It made me smaller the first time. Now, it seems that anything I put on is making me smaller. I need to find Amy and her mother. I need to make her turn me back to normal, somehow.”


Dylan stood up to go searching again, but immediately he realized the serious problem he had. “I’m naked,” he said, looking down at his nude, little-boy body. “Damn, I can’t go wandering around like this. Amy would stop me and drag me back inside as soon as she saw me. But, I can’t put on clothes either, or else I’ll just get even younger and younger.” He started to look around for anything he could use to cover himself that would not be considered clothing. He had no way of being sure that would work, but it seemed to be his only option.


Dylan tiptoed to the bathroom and thought about trying to wrap a hand towel around his waist but decided it would be safer not to. Even at his reduced size, it would be pretty small on him, and he worried that it might be considered clothing by whatever spell was making him younger. He settled for wrapping the bathroom rug around his waist and holding it in place with his hand. It would be heavy and awkward to wear, but it was better than nothing. He stood there a moment, holding the rug in place, waiting to see if it would make him younger. He glanced in the mirror but was disappointed to find that only the top of his head was visible in it now. Once he was sure that the rug was not affecting him, he left the bathroom to continue his search for his wife and mother-in-law.


Dylan tiptoed his way to the backyard. He tried not to think about how high the handle seemed on the sliding door or how heavy it felt when he pulled it open. Instead, he turned his attention to finding a path around to the other side of the pool that would keep him as concealed as possible. He walked behind bushes and chairs, pausing here and there to check if anyone was near before continuing on to the area of the patio where he had last seen his wife.


Once he was close, he slipped into a bush to look around. Again, he scanned the area but saw no sign of her there. “Where is she?” he whispered to himself.


“Why are you wearing a rug?” asked a kid behind him. Her voice startled him so much that he nearly dropped the rug. He did let it slip enough to reveal his bare ass to whoever it was behind him.


He spun around and found another one of Amy’s kids standing there, one of her littler daughters, all pigtails and innocent eyes. That the girl was even taller and likely older than him made Dylan shiver in fear.


“You’re naked,” she said, seemingly gleeful at catching him being naughty. “You don’t have a bathing suit.”


“N-no,” he protested. “I’m wearing something. See? It’s the only thing I have that will fit. Please, just leave me alone here.”


She stared at him a long while before looking away, seemingly having become bashful all of a sudden. Then, she glanced at him and asked, “Will you show it to me?”


“Show you what?”


“You know,” she said, peeking down at the rug. “I’ve never seen a boy’s… thingy. I’ll show you mine if you do.” She seemed genuinely curious.


Realizing what she wanted, he felt ready to run from her. “Listen,” he said, pushing through the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m not playing doctor with you right now. I have someone I need to find right now if I can.”


Her bashful curiosity shifted to fury after having been rebuked. “Fine,” she said. “I’m telling my mom you’re here.”


“Wait!” he said, but she had already started running. He knew he could not chase her without revealing himself, so he moved onward to look for another hiding spot. As soon as he found another place to settle, he spotted his wife and mother-in-law walking back into the yard on the other side of the pool.


With a surge of hope he stepped out of his cover and hurried towards them, all the while trying to think of the right thing to say when he reached them. He needed to come up with a way to convince Samantha that he was actually her husband.


Suddenly, someone seized him by the arm and pulled him to a stop so jarringly that he nearly dropped the rug again. “Caught you!” Amy said. “There’s no skinny dipping in my pool, you little streaker.”


“Wait! Let me go!” Dylan cried as he watched his wife return to her seat beside the pool next to her mother. “Samantha! Help me! Please!”


His wife did not respond though. The pool was noisy with splashing children laughing and playing. His high, little-boy voice could not carry over all of that to her, it seemed. He struggled to escape from Amy’s grip, but she was too strong for him now. All he could do was watch Samantha recede from him as he was dragged back into the house again.


His sister dragged him all the way back to the bathroom and ordered him, “Stay in here until I come back… or else…”


Then, he heard the sound of something heavy being pushed against it from the outside. He dropped his rug back where he had found it and pulled the door open to find a cabinet had been pushed into the doorway to block his escape. It was too tall for him to climb over easily, and he was too weak to push it aside. She had trapped him.


A minute later, she returned, and from above the cabinet, she tossed something red at him. “Put that on, now,” she ordered him.


He held it up and recognized it as a pair of swim trunks that seemed just the right size to fit him. “No,” he said. “I can’t put this on. Please, help me. I need to talk to Samantha now. Can you just tell her to come here to talk to me.”


“Care to explain why you can’t put the trunks on?” she asked, crossing her arms skeptically.


“It’ll change me. I can’t explain. You wouldn’t believe me if I did. Please, just trust me. Tell Samantha to come here.”


“You tell her yourself after you put that on,” she said with unwavering severity. “You’re not getting out of there until you do.”


He searched around for any other option, any other way out, but there was none. He would just need to do what she said. His only hope now was that he would not be too young when he made it to Samantha.


“Fine,” he said, stepping into the swim trunks. “I’m wearing them. Please, let me go.”


Amy pushed the cabinet to the side, and he slipped out around her and ran to the back door. Again, he was struck by how heavy it was and worried that it might be even heavier now that it had been before. Realizing that he was in a race against time, he ran to the pool and wove through and around crowds of taller children as he rushed towards where he had last seen Samantha.


As with the gym shorts he had been wearing before, he had to stop to tighten the drawstring on his trunks a couple of times as he went. To his dismay, he noticed how the tall children around him seemed to grow even taller as he made his way to his wife, and the distance he had left to travel seemed to stretch longer as well. It was like walking down a nightmare hallway that only extended further away as you fought to move forward.


Dylan ran, weaving through a forest of legs and crotches and asses, bouncing face first off one girl’s round butt to stumble into another boy’s hairy leg, all the while trying to hold up the oversized swim trunks, which had become so large on him now that they were certain to slide down and trip him up if he let go of them. At last, he emerged from the forest of enormous young bodies finding himself only a short dash away from his wife and her mother.


“Samanfa!” Dylan said, lisping out her name. She turned to look at him and smiled.


Holding his trunks up with both hands, he toddled over to her. When he reached her knees, he had the disturbing realization that she was much taller than him now even while sitting.


“How’s my little man doing?” his wife asked him. “Having fun?”


“No,” he said. “Wook at me! Ima widdle boy.”


“And, you’re getting so big. In another year you’ll be old enough for preschool.”


“Wut?” he said. “No! You ma wife.”


“‘Your wife?’” she replied and chuckled, glancing at her mother. “Sorry, Dylan, little boys can’t marry their mommies.”

“Mommy?” he said. “Dat’s not wight.”


Samantha’s mother said, “What’s not right is that you seem to be wearing the wrong swimsuit. Where did you find those huge trunks?”


“Amy gave ‘em to me.”


“What happened to your swim diaper?”


“Ima gwonup. I doan need a swim diaba.”


Her mother pulled out a swim diaper from her bag and said, “Good thing I brought a spare.”


“Wait,” he said. “No! She did dis to me. She made me baby. Doan put dat diaba on me, pweese.”


Samantha stood up, and he found himself backing away from her feet. He was not even waist high to her now and was overwhelmed by her intimidating size. She bent forward and gripped him under the armpits with her giant hands and lifted him into the air. Then, she pulled him close to her chest and held him there as she carried him over to some bushes, some of the same ones he had hid behind before. In that private area of grass, his wife laid him down on his back.


“Now,” she said. “Let’s get those big boy clothes off of you.” She tried to pull down his trunks, but he held tight to them. “Now, don’t be fussy,” she said. Her large hands completely encompassed his own and gently but firmly pried his little fingers open. Then, her mother pulled down his trunks, leaving him lying naked on the grass beneath them.


“Pweese,” he cried, tears filling his eyes. “Doan put a diaba on me. Pweese.” He kicked and squirmed in vain, being too weak to resist the two women, as his wife held his legs up and her mother threaded his feet into the swim diaper, pulled the diaper up, and fastened it in place.


“There,” the older woman said. “That should do it.”


They let him go, and he sat up and stood up and started to pull it down again. However, he was too late, by the time he was back on his feet, he already felt his head moving downwards again as his toddler body shrank back into infancy, causing him to drop onto his padded behind. He rolled onto his back and felt the swim diaper warm up in front. Some analytical part of his mind recognized that he had just pissed himself, but it seemed unimportant now compared to everything else that was happening.


“I think he needs to be changed,” said her mother.


Samantha checked inside the front of his loose diaper and confirmed what her mother had said. “Do you have another diaper in there?”


“I do,” her mother replied and pulled out an even smaller swim diaper from her bag.


They unpacked their changing gear and went about removing the large soiled swim diaper and cleaning him up. Dylan was powerless to do anything but watch and cry quietly to himself. Once the new diaper was put on, he expected that to be the end for him. How much smaller could he get without disappearing altogether? But, to his surprise, the diaper continued to fit him well, even after Samantha had carried him back over to the table and sat down with him resting on her lap.


“I think I need to relieve myself as well,” she said. “Would you watch him for a minute?”


“Would I watch my grandchild for you? Gladly, of course,” the older woman replied.


He was passed to her, like a sack of potatoes and cradled lovingly in her mother’s arms. Then, he watched worriedly as she walked off, leaving him at the mercy of the older woman.


“You must be confused,” she said, talking to him while looking away at the children playing in the pool. “I don’t doubt that you figured out that I did this to you.”


He tried to complain or to beg her to fix him, but his little mouth was mostly toothless now and the tongue in it refused to form words. All he could do was babble and drool.


“Yes,” she said. “But, don’t be afraid now. The magic is used up. Clothes will not make you younger anymore.”


He whimpered in a tone that suggested a question.


“Why did I do this?” she replied, guessing his intended words. “Well, you know I never cared for you. My beloved daughter did, so I held my tongue. But, when you gave me no grandchildren, that was the last straw. Since you would not give me a child, you can be the child yourself.”


Again he babbled, this time with insolent fury.


“Unfortunately, I can do nothing to wipe your memories away. You could let them go, allow your old life to fade away if you want to. Or, you could hold onto them tightly, remember your life as it had been, think of your mother as your former wife. That’s your choice, but consider what pain that will put you through and how pointless it would be. Nothing you do now can reverse what has happened. I would let the past go if I were you.”


He shook his head defiantly, but she just chuckled in reply.


“Suit yourself,” she said. “I think you’ll change your mind, though.”


Samantha returned then, and held out her hands to collect Dylan from her mother. “How was my little man?”


“A perfect angel,” her mother replied as she passed him back to Samantha.


Samantha took a seat with him positioned back on her lap, his head pressed against her chest.


Her mother said, “I think he was looking a bit hungry while you were away. You may want to give him a feeding.”


“Oh,” Samantha said. “I suppose it’s near enough to his regular feeding time.”


Dylan watched her open her shirt with confusion that turned into horror as he realized how she was about to feed him. With practiced swiftness, she had her bra open and a bare breast exposed above him. Like the rest of her body, it was comparatively enormous, probably as big as his own head now. She turned him to face her breast and cradled him in close to position her nipple right before his lips. He was tensed and ready to resist as futile as it might be to try. Then, she gently pressed his mouth to her nipple, and some instinct took over, causing him to begin to suckle. Her warm milk filled his mouth and he drank it down, feeling the delicious nutrition she provided as it filled up his stomach, one thirsty suck after another. His body relaxed, having surrendered the fight at last.


“That’s my baby,” Samantha said, her face practically glowing with adoration. “So, lovely.” She turned to her mother. “Isn’t he lovely?”


“He is,” her mother replied. “But, enjoy it while it lasts. They grow up too soon.”


“I will,” Samantha said, switching him to her other breast. “Drink up, Dylan, and grow up big and strong… but not too soon.”


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