Artwork (c) 2004 by Inocentius & Pervertida.
I, Professor Lyle Kerrigan, regarded the old silver medallion, puzzled. Its age could not be denied, it was ancient without a doubt. But the style was unlike any I had ever seen. It could not be attributed with authority to the Cretes, Greeks, Romans, Phoenician, Etruscan. Yet to think it was earlier...Egyptian, for example...was incredulous, because the rendition of the two figures on the medallion was too well-crafted, it was the Cretes who had begun the true study of musculature and realistic renditions. The man and boy depicted on the two sides of the medallion were well-rendered, proportioned properly. Had I less information, I might have thought it a Renaissance piece, but the records with the medallion indicated it had been removed from ruins in the vicinity of....
The knock at the door guillotined my thoughts, and I lifted my head up, smiled. "Hello, Roger." I said.
Fellow professor Roger Heydrich smiled back at me. "Working hard?" Roger was a tall, thin, handsome man, dressed impeccably in a tailored business suit with a thin, dark tie at his throat that matched his suit, the white shirt left with a double-triangle of paleness. Roger's thin body didn't make him less masculine, it made him more masculine, he was sleek as a panther, lithe as a serpent, sexual as a fertility god. By comparison, I was larger and bulkier, yes, but also less composed, more rumpled, like the shapeless shirt and pants I had on now, the shirt undone at the top few buttons (I'd had an itch under one armpit and hadn't redone the shirt afterwards) and looking at Roger always made me feel...disorganized. Roger and I were lovers...sometimes...and that was a damnable feeling, to hold such a man as him from time to time. But he and I both had wives and children to consider, so such joinings were fewer than I really liked...but I also wasn't ready to open the can-of-worms that would let us move in together.
"Just received a package from the Markham Group." I explained. "They want me to date and authenticate this medallion they sent me. Said it didn't seem to belong where it was found at all. A group of ruins of early Grecian society. I have to agree. It's not Grecian."
"So what is it?"
"If I knew that, I'd have gone home by now." I said. "The decoration suggest the Minoans, but the body styles just don't jibe. It may be an inspired artist of the Minoans, I suppose, but such a radical departure would defy all we know about the development of artistic expression among the Mediterranean societies."
"Let me see it." Roger suggested.
Roger's area of study was biology and zoology, so his opinion on the medallion was worth about as much as anybody's. Still, I held it up to him. The medallion was circular, about the dimensions of a half-dollar coin, upon a thin silver chain. Both were quite untarnished, and the whirling medallion flashed as it spun around. As it did, I regarded it, the medallion seemed to be interposing the man's body upon that of the youth, their stance was the same, and as I watched it, it was like the glint was doing something to me.
"Put it on." said Roger, not like it was his idea, but like someone else was using his voice. Lyle heard it, both from without and within. Put it on.
The medallion continued to spin as I held down my head. The silver was cool as the chain rested upon the bare flesh of his neck, the disc didn't stop spinning until it rested upon my chest inside my shirt. As it did, there was a gleam that shone bright, I saw it briefly, the side with the child on the outside of the medallion was outmost, it was what was shining....
And then the light was overwhelmingly bright, it blinded me, I staggered and fell to the carpeted floor, my butt hitting the ground...but more lightly than I expected, by a great deal.
I blinked, shook my head to try to clear my senses. Across from me, Roger was sitting on the floor nearby, he was holding his head, dazed, he must have hit his head on something.
I reached a hand out to Roger, and when I did, I gasped. My hand was lost inside my shirt sleeve! I reached up with my other hand to pull at the shirt (my other hand was similarly lost, had the burst of whatever-it-was ripped my shirt and it hanging off my body?) and when I did, I gasped again. I was looking at a small arm, a small hand with small fingers. What was going on here?
I looked down at myself, and saw that I was lost in his own clothes. More than rumpled, I was drowning in them!
"Jesus, Lyle!" Roger said to him. Roger was staring.
"What's happened?" When I spoke, I realized even my voice was wrong. It was higher-pitched. "What's happened to me?" And that was when I recognized the voice...my own as a child.
"I'm a kid again? I'm a kid?" I said incredulously.
"Jesus, Lyle, it must have been the medallion." Roger said. "It flashed and when it did, it knocked us for a loop and then you...what did it do to you?"
I stood up, and when I did, my shoes fell off, my socks were drooping off my feet, and when I was entirely up, my pants fell to my feet, and my underwear sagged down dangerously far.
My height was cut almost in half, I could have rested my chin on my desktop. My shirt was now hanging down to my knees, like a nightgown.
"Jesus, Lyle...you're a child again!" Roger said. "What kind of medallion is that?"
"It couldn't be the medallion, it couldn't be!" I said, petulantly. That was the stuff of horror stories, the stuff of legends. No sane person believes in magic...but no sane person would find themself suddenly standing lost in his own clothing, either, looking upward at a man looking down at you, and both of you unable to otherwise explain this...it was magic.
I grabbed the medallion and yanked it off of me and dropped it to the floor. It this was some power of the medallion, that would break the spell...wouldn't it?
It didn't. I remained in my diminutive state.
"We have to do something." I nattered, scared as hell. Can you blame me? I was standing wearing only a shirt and a pair of underwear, and to underscore my ridiculous position, my underwear snaked itself off my slim thighs and fell around my ankles. I gave up, stepped out of them, my socks I stepped on alternately to get them off as well and, now wearing only my shirt, I shouted at Roger again, "Do something! Do anything!"
"Okay, okay, take it easy." Roger was as flustered as anyone here. I don't know why I thought he'd have a better idea of what to do than me. "Let me look at that thing." He picked it up and the medallion spun as it had. "Maybe I should put it on?" he said dubiously.
"Anything, God, anything!" I urged him.
He dipped his head to put the chain over his own head, and I gulped as I realized that either this would break the spell upon me...or make him join me in this bizarre reversal of the aging process.
But he put it on and there was nothing. No light, no change in Roger at all. Nothing.
"Nothing happened." Roger said unnecessarily.
"Maybe it's because the medallion isn't touching your skin." I said. "You've put it on your neck like I did. And the medallion also touched my skin."
"Okay, I'll take it off and put it on again." Roger said. He did, this time he tucked the chain down inside his shirt and slipped the medallion inside his shirt. Still nothing.
"The medallion didn't spin." I objected. "It has to spin before you put it on."
"Lyle, Lyle, calm down." Roger said.
"Calm down!" I shrieked, my young voice able to hit an octave higher than I had hit in years. "How can I calm down! I'm a freaking kid again!"
"We'll figure this out, Lyle!" Roger said. "You have to calm down and let's think this all through."
I dropped down onto the floor again, blubbering like...well, like the child that I was. "God, what's happened to me." I sniffled. "What the hell has happened to me?"
Roger knelt down beside me and put his arm around me. "Easy now, Lyle." He said. "We'll figure something out here. Whatever happened can be reversed...somehow. Maybe the medallion only works at certain times."
"Maybe." I sniffled.
His finger came up and wiped away the tears on my cheek. Like a father wipes away his son's tears. I looked into his face, so gentle and kind, so masculine...so much bigger than me, now.
And I lunged and wrapped my arms around his neck. "You can't leave me alone, Roger." I moaned. "You're my best friend, you have to help me through this! You've got to." I think the childhood-spell had worked itself on more than my body. I felt childlike in my very bones, little, vulnerable, afraid.
I think Roger realized that, too. "Don't worry, Lyle." he said to me.
His lips were right there, right next to me, and I reached and kissed them. God, I wanted this man so much, especially now, especially with me feeling small, weak, afraid, I wanted him right now!
My ardor surprised him, and my hands went over his unresisting body, the strong form under the smooth silk suit.
"God, Lyle! Are you kidding me?" he gasped as my hands were small but fervent upon him, I was undoing his tie, his shirt, baring his body to my hands. The medallion fell upon his chest, the man on the face uppermost seemed to be laughing at me. Damn it, why hadn't it done its magic on Roger, or undone the spell on me...or something. Why had it only worked on me?
I knocked the medallion aside and pressed my lips to the space that vacated, the hollow of his chest.
"God, Lyle, this is crazy!" Roger gasped. "This is like making love to my own son, or, or something!"
"You never had that fantasy?" I asked him. "Sometimes, you sit at home and your boy comes down and you look at him. You never thought about that?"
"Well...." Roger hesitated.
"So come on." I insisted. "I need you, Roger. I need you to want me right now, more than ever, right now. This is more than just us surviving our marriages here. Want me, Roger, want me!"
"I do." Roger breathed. "I want you, just like you are. God, just like you are, all small and soft and warm and sweet little boy. You were a good-looking man, but you're even better looking as a little boy! Lean up here, baby, give Daddy a big kiss!"
I reached up, trembling. God, to be this size, to be this little again, to be held by this man, this more-than-man, this slim sword of maleness, this slender dagger that could strike at my heart with his smile, he reached for me and when we kissed, his mouth was large and powerful upon my own.
"Oh, God, Roger, now, now!" I breathed as he pulled my shirt from my body, exposing my little-boy form to him, he looked at my diminutive physique and he shivered.
"Lyle." he said to me and the word was a caress. "Lyle, my friend, my buddy, my little baby boy." and the words were like sighs. His hands undid his fly and when he pulled out his cock, I was there to greet it, my lips were eager and hungry upon his man-flesh and I stuffed that big pud into my mouth and I suckled on it, God, the taste of a man, a real man, and me needing all the manhood I could get! Maybe this would do it, would restore me, the flavor of man!
And I sucked Roger and he groaned as his hands continued to remove his clothing. He never wore briefs or socks except in the coldest weather, he slipped off his shoes and was barefoot, his pants slid like silk serpents from his legs, his hands pushed his jacket and shirt from his chest with one motion, to leave them in a black-and-white crescent behind him, and he was bare to me.
His hands now moved to guide my head and he clutched and I think he would have been rougher but he feared to harm the child I had become. "Oh, God, Lyle." He gasped when his hands touched my head. "Oh, God, oh, yeah!"
I had slicked up his prick with my saliva, I had slathered it with a thick layer of my spit, and I said, "Now, Roger, take me now, fuck me, Roger, fuck your little boy."
And Roger was upon me with an energy that was like a force of nature, he was over me and he bowled me over and I was beneath him and his manhood was pushing into my body, finding the tight child-sphincter and spreading it wide!
The pain was like a benediction, a renewal of my virginity, and I gave it to Roger gladly, for he was the man I loved and now he was more than my lover, he was my guardian, my parent, my Daddy, my master! He dominated me and I gave him that dominance with an eager will, and he pushed into me and I groaned with the sharp, bright joy of being taken, taken, taken by this man!
"Oh, God, baby!" Roger gasped as he drove it into me, that hard steel pud pulsing angrily as he wriggled it in more. "My own little baby Lyle, my son, my new son!"
"Oh, God, Roger, yes, Roger, yes, oh, yes, Daddy Roger, yes!" I babbled as my desire wrenched me in a way I had never dreamed. I was impaled by Roger's dong, it was inside me, and I wanted more, more, more! "Fuck me now, Roger, come on, Daddy, fuck me, Daddy, fuck me!"
"Yeah, son, yeah!" Roger groaned. "Time for me to fuck my little son, my new little son."
"Ooh, yeah, oh, oh, yeah!" I keened as Roger began to fuck me, the strong body worked like a whip, lean and strong, there was nothing but the power to drive that pud into me and he drove it with a will and a fire that matched my own. I looked up at the medallion as it hung from his body, this medallion that had made me a child again, to be a child for this man to take and make love to, yes, wonderful medallion, wonderful curse, wonderful to be this child now, for I felt a part of this coupling I had never felt while loving Roger as an adult, for there was always the way that I could have taken over, the times that I had to be the one on top, but now, I was only the bottom, only the one to take his manhood, with only a tiny little pud of my own to match with him, and that utterly inadequate, I drew instead from his masculinity, took it for myself, and I was more than a child in his arms, I was his love-toy, his little boy to fuck and to love and to be here for him, and the strength of that joining was utterly ecstatic for me!
I gasped with the sharp intensity of the pre-pubescent climax, I had forgotten this littler joy that comes with the orgasm of youth, it was both smaller and more satisfying than my adult climaxes, I was driven by a purity of pleasure, a divinity of joy, a sense that this was the very meaning of life condensed into the sensations that rushed through me, and I came, my own little prick pumped out a few drops of clear liquid, and I clung desperately tight to Roger's back as he continued to pump into me.
He held me as I climaxed, and when I was done, Roger grinned down into my joy-bedazzled eyes and he said, "Was that good for you, Lyle? Was it good for you, baby?"
"Yeah, Daddy, oh, yeah!" I moaned. "Come on, fuck me some more."
"I'm real close baby." Roger warned me. "I'm about to shoot. Can I come in your ass, baby, can I pump you full of my Daddy jizz?" He said this while his body made small, jerky motions, continuing to thrust the saber of his manhood into my sheath of boy-body, and I felt it like a pile-driver in my bowels, uh-uh-uh-uh-uh!
"Oh, yeah, Daddy!" I begged him. "Shoot it in me, please! Please!"
He sped up again and the frenzy of those thrusts brought him to the brink in no time, he groaned, his teeth grimaced a fearsome face at me, and I drank in that ferocity and let it be a part of me, and he rammed my butt and his groans became a growl and he thrust harder, really hard, and when he did, his cock spurted into me. I felt that hot foaming man-cream as it filled my insides, felt it as it dribbled out of my ass and felt it as more squirted out to replace it inside me. Roger's face flushed bright red and his teeth were like white spears aimed at me, and his eyes were squinched tight and that constricted face was the man in the throes of ejaculation, and he spurted into me and then he was done, and his face relaxed, and his voice broke into sobs of air drunk in, and he crushed me beneath his now-limp body.
I couldn't breath under that weight, over three times my own, and I endured it and he finally raised up, still panting, and said, "God, Lyle, oh, God!"
"Oh, yeah, Roger, yeah!" I said. "That was good, so good! I love you, Roger, I love you, Daddy."
"My little boy Lyle." he breathed. "If we can't break this spell on you, you will live with me, I promise, right with me, and we'll be together, I promise."
That forced my mind into the practicalities of our situation. "I don't see why the medallion didn't affect you, too." I said. "Maybe if I put it on again, it would reverse itself."
"Worth a try." Roger agreed.
I did and let the medallion spin and it was bright and I hoped and I put it on me and I looked down and I was still a child.
The medallion had done its work. Was I going to be stuck like this forever?
While pondering this, a call came in. At a look from me, Roger took the call, saying I was in the bathroom and he was waiting for me to come back, could he take a message. He could.
It was my wife. She had to leave town for a few days. Roger's wife would take our son to school each day. She just wanted me to know. My wife was always doing this, leaving at a moment's notice, leaving me and my boy John to fend for ourselves. The problem of having a corporate executive for a wife, they had to drop everything for the corporation.
Roger handled it with aplomb. "We'll just bring your husband and son over to our house for the weekend." he said. "Our boys can play together and Lyle and I can work on a...problem that has come up. No, nothing to worry about. We'll keep Lyle safe and out of harm's way until you come back." he mocked my wife's concern.
Hanging up, he said, "Well, that takes care of that. You're coming home with me."
"What will I tell John?" I said, worried about my son. "He's too young to understand this."
"Nothing." he suggested. "You'll be a child of another professor staying the weekend with us. "Sharon (Roger's wife) won't be surprised, she doesn't know half the faculty, anyway. You and John and Gregory (Roger's son) can have a sleepover. You look like you're their age, about six or seven years old, maybe."
"Yeah." I agreed. That felt about right for my size. "I'll be seven years old, just had a birthday."
"God, three hot little boys in bed." Roger moaned. "And me stuck with my wife in our room all the way across on the other side of the house. Damn, it's not fair! Maybe my wife can go with your wife and we can have a real sleep-together."
"Dream on." I said. "Until we get this medallion thing figured out, I'm just a little kid again...Daddy."
And my grin wasn't the kindly sort. But then, neither was his. I was going to have an extraordinary weekend here if Roger had his way.
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE
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