(Male/male, Adult Sexual Situations!)
This story is intended for ADULT readers only!
If you are not offended by sexual content then jump to the story. If some things offend you, read this so you won't be surprised.
Some elements of the plot are given away in the disclaimer.
Disclaimers and Warnings:
This story contains sexual situations, detailed anatomical descriptions and direct sexual contact (kind'a) between two males. It is an AR (Age Regression) story, which means that as part of the plot, one of them will be unexpectedly growing younger during the course of events, turning into a minor during these sexual situations.
If you feel this is something you might not like or that might offend you, then DON'T READ IT!
The author assumes anyone reading beyond this point is doing so with informed consent and of their own free will, knowing what may be ahead.
Having said all that I DO think it's not nearly as extreme as it sounds -- but I'd rather over do the warning then risk offending someone.
Comments, both positive and negative, are very much welcome by the author.
Enjoy,
BR
He cruised slowly down Santa Monica Boulevard… looking… looking….
This wasn't going to be easy.
It was his first time here, but he knew it was the place to find what he wanted. The girls all hung out a few blocks north on Sunset, those lovely ladies of the night, willing to do just about anything for the right price. There was a time in his life when he would have enjoyed their company, but that was in the past. Tonight, he needed something different.
Cruising east from West Hollywood he saw and rejected many before his eyes finally spotted his prize on the corner of a dark little street called Orange. There he stood, obviously looking for some action.
He was ideal.
"Oh, yes," Harry said softly under his breath, as he circled the block.
The kid spotted Harry immediately. After all, it was his job to notice people who seemed to be looking at him, so when Harry came back around and pulled the Dodge Caravan up beside him he wasn't particularly surprised.
'This guy looks like someone's dad,' the kid thought as he eyed Harry for the first time. The mini-van just made it all the more likely that this guy was a married man looking for some action on the side.
The boy leaned in the window. "Hey there…" he said, flashing a surprisingly beautiful smile.
Harry shook his head in awe. This boy was nineteen at the oldest. Beautiful, young, absolutely gorgeous. His hair was a glowing blond and his skin smooth and clean. It was hard to believe this kid was working street corners, strutting his stuff for horny men on the prowl, instead of sharing that smile with a camera on the backlot of one of the nearby Hollywood studios.
Harry just studied him, mesmerized, unable to answer. There was a sparkle in the kids eyes that said he was more than just a pretty face. One look and you could tell, there was intelligence there. And need, and pain, and hunger… No matter how much he was trying to cover it up. It was obvious this kid wasn't bad but merely a victim of circumstances, things gone wrong in a life that brought him here.
"God," Harry whispered, gazing deeply into the boy's deep blue eyes, "You're perfect," he said, and was surprised to realize he'd actually said the words out loud.
The boy was pleased. "Perfect is good, but it ain't free."
A brief negotiation and a moment later Harry was driving to a hotel room with the kid in the passenger seat. The boy looked around cautiously, checking it out.
"What's your name?" Harry asked .
"Angel," the boy answered.
Harry gave him a look, "I mean, what's your real name."
The boy fixed a serious gaze on him, "You can call me anything you like, but I go by Angel on the street," he answered and continued to look around the vehicle. It was a rental, he could tell that. There was a child seat in the back of the mini-van, a diaper bag on the floor, a wedding ring on the driver's finger... Yeah, Angel knew the type. This was a family man on the stray.
"You're from outta town," Angel said. "Here to see the sites with the family?"
Harry didn't seem to like the question. "What's it matter?"
"Hey, it's okay with me man, I don't mind. Really, you don't have to tell me anything. But I should let you know something," he turned to face the back window. "You see that car back there, the black Lexus with the big wheels?"
Harry checked his mirror. He saw it.
"That's Marko. He's my main man, if ya' know what I mean? My protection. He don't care what you do with me as long as he gets his cut when we're done, okay?"
Great, Harry thought, a fucking pimp. The kid was worse off then Harry had realized.
"No problem," Harry answered.
The hotel room was cheap in both price and appearance. Early twenty-first century bordello chic; tacky gold carpet on the floor, mirrors on the ceiling, sixteen channels of porno on the satellite TV, half of it gay. Angel knew the room. He'd been here a lot.
Looking through the cheap vinyl curtains Harry saw the Lexus pull into the parking lot in back. Harry himself had parked in front.
Angel jumped onto the dingy bed and sat there looking up at Harry as provocatively as a nineteen year old boy could. "So, what'll it be?" he asked, eager to get down to business. "Suck? Fuck? Take ya' 'round the world and back?"
Harry set the diaper bag he'd brought up from the car on the dresser and took out the bottle of brandy he'd concealed inside it. "For starters..." he said, removing a couple of plastic cups, "Let's talk."
"Talk dirty?" Angel asked.
"No," Harry said, turning and extending one of the cups toward him. "Just, talk."
Angel took the cup, eyeing its contents suspiciously.
"You know, it's still gonna cost ya', " he said, "even if we don't do nothin'. I mean, I can't just, like, sit here and not make money, ya' know?"
"I know," Harry said, reaching into his pocket. "What was it you said back at the car? $50 an hour, plus $20 if I sucked you, $40 if you sucked me, $50 if you fuck me, $100 if I fuck you and $250 'around the world' without a raincoat, wasn't it?"
Angel looked up at him, not sure what to make of this guy.
"Yeah. You got it."
Harry pulled six, crisp, new hundred dollar bills from his pocket and spread them out on the bedside table where Angel could see them up close.
"That should buy me a lot of talk?" Harry said as Angel tried hard to look nonplused by what he saw.
"For that," he answered, "I'll play talk radio all night."
Harry beamed and raised his drink. Angel lifted his own cautiously, but didn't take any until Harry did. Finally he took a swallow of his own.
Angel gagged as the brandy burned his throat with an unexpected level of harshness. He coughed, almost choking.
"Wow," Angel managed to croak out between coughs... "Smooth." he gasped.
Harry laughed, having no trouble at all with his own drink. "I take it you don't drink much?"
"Sure I do," Angel lied, trying to recover enough to finish his drink without looking too much like a novice. Actually he didn't like when his John's tried to get him drunk, he preferred to be in control of the situation, but he also knew it would take a lot more than one cup to get him soused.
"So..." Harry continued as he sat down on the bed beside him. "Tell me about yourself?"
"Oh, man! Borrrrrring!" Angel rolled his eyes. "You don't really wanna know about me!? "
"No body's life is boring," Harry responded, "Not to someone who cares."
'Yeah, right...' Angel thought to himself... 'Like this guy really cares about more than getting his rocks off.'
"Well," he continued anyway, "I grew up in Phoenix, then I moved here. End of story."
As Angel spoke Harry looked him over carefully. The boy was wearing skin tight blue biking shorts; too cold for the night outside, but obviously meant more for showing off his features than for comfort. An enormous bulge was prominently displayed between his legs. From a mile away it was obvious that Angel was an exceptionally well hung young man, something he was clearly proud of. No doubt that ample gift had been a great advantage to him in his current line of work.
"When did you move here?" Harry asked.
"A few years ago," Angel answered. Harry looked at him questioningly. "Three years ago," he added finally, exasperated, "I moved here when I was, like, sixteen. That's when I met Marko."
"Marko?" Harry asked?
"Marko! You know? Guy in the black Lexus?"
"Ahh," Harry nodded, understanding.
"He set me up and took care of me."
"He ever hit you?" Harry asked.
Angel looked down thoughtfully, then took the last of his brandy in one swallow, never noticing the powdery stuff at the bottom of the cup.
"Just once," Angel answered, surprised at how easily the words came out. "But, ya' know, he had his reasons. I tried to keep some money I'd made from him, so I guess I deserved it."
Harry looked up at him with real compassion in his eyes. "No," he said, "You didn't deserve it."
Angel didn't answer. "Why so curious about me?"
Harry shrugged, "Just want to know who I'm sharing a hotel room with," he said with a smile. "So, how come you left home?"
Angel, feeling it was time to change the subject, began to reach slowly toward Harry's crotch.
With unexpected speed Harry grabbed his wrist so suddenly Angel jumped.
"Ut-uh," Harry said with a soft voice that did nothing to lessen how much he MEANT what he said. He moved Angel's hand aside. "Not yet."
Angel took his hand back, more puzzled then ever. He'd never met a John quite like this.
"So tell me," Harry continued, after a moments silence, "Why did you leave home?"
Angel leaned back in the bed and looked up at the mirrored ceiling. His own reflection looked down at him as he spoke. "'Cause when I was fifteen dad caught me sucking the neighbor's dick and kicked me out of the house."
Harry looked up, "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did he kick you out?"
Angel laughed, "Because I was a fag!" he said as if it hardly needed an explanation, but in spite of his effort to cover it up, there was clearly a touch of hurt in his voice. "He asked me to press charges against the man and I told him I wouldn't."
"Why not?" Harry asked.
Angel hesitated, "Because, I thought I was in love with him."
A bizarre and inexplicable sensation began to wash over Angel. Maybe it was the alcohol going to his head, but he felt as if he were suddenly slipping into the past. Instead of the callous emotional distance he'd built up over the years, he suddenly felt like he was in the midst of it again, as if the years between had been peeled off of him and he was reliving that moment.
His reflection in the mirror began to blur as unwanted tears crept into his eyes. Looking through them he saw himself not as he was now, the proud, cynical, LA call boy, but instead he saw reflected that naïve, innocent sixteen year old boy he'd been back then.
This is bad, he caught himself thinking. He had a job to do, this guy didn't want to see him cry! But fight as hard as he may, he couldn't stop reliving the moment as if it were happening all over again.
Echoes from the past rang in his ears. The shouting of his parents. He heard, as if he were there again, the wails of his mother, the angry screams of his father; their accusations, incriminations, threats and insults. He also felt the sting of his father's fists as they landed on him.
"It's okay," he heard a distant voice say to him softly, "It's okay, really."
A tender, loving hand moved softly to his face and wiped away a tear that was falling there.
"I'm sorry," Angel said, sobbing. He looked down, unable to understand what had just happened to him. "I don't get like this, really... Just... I dunno."
"Don't worry about it," the voice said again, calm and reassuring, like a father's voice should be. He felt a hand under his chin and his head was lifted until he was looking into Harry's eyes. The man beamed at him with a kind and understanding countenance such as Angel had never seen before, not in anyone. Certainly not in his own father.
"You know," he said reassuringly, touching Angel's face. "if you were my son, I'd always love you, no matter what you did, no matter who you became. I'd always be there for you."
He sniffled, and for an instant, Angel believed him, because he wanted to. Or maybe because he needed to. For one moment, he trusted this man more than his own father.
Then he came to reason -- No, people weren't like that. Not really. They just make you think that to get what they want. This was a horny married man, someone ELSE'S father, here to get his rocks off. In a few hours he'd be gone and Angel would be nothing to him but a mistake, a momentary lapse of judgement he'd make sure no one ever found out about.
Angel stood up sharply from the bed and almost fell over from light headedness. Harry grabbed him to steady him, but Angel shook him off.
"Look, I don't wanna talk," he said, pushing Harry away as his voice, aching more than he wanted, betrayed his emotions. "You can keep the money or we can fuck, whichever you want, but no more talk about me, okay!?"
Angel couldn't believe how upset he'd gotten. This so wasn't like him, but something felt weird and he couldn't control his feelings. You'd think he'd never done this before, that his was his first time rather than his five-hundredth.
"Okay," Harry said, seeing he was in danger of loosing the boy. "Okay. I just want you to be comfortable. You look like you're hot in those anyway, why don't you.... Why don't you take your clothes off. Let me see what you look like."
Angel had never felt more relieved to strip in his life. For some reason he felt far less naked showing his stuff than he did talking about his past.
With smug assurance he started to peel the shirt from his sweating body when a weird sensation suddenly took hold of him. Without warning, Angel froze, his confidence gone.
He didn't understand what he was feeling. Several times a night he shucked his clothes for total strangers but now, tonight, in front of THIS particular man, he suddenly felt a strange reluctance to undress. What was he feeling? Bashful? Shy? That wasn't possible!
But he was.
Nervously, he forced himself to remove his shirt. His heart was beating loud in his ears. As he bared his skin to Harry, he had the oddest sensation of being exposed and vulnerable, like a child made to undress at the doctor's office.
With effort he reached for his pants, but found he couldn't take them off. He looked down, unintentionally hanging his head like a bashful little boy.
He looked at himself. Something was wrong. Not only was he feeling inexplicably reticent about undressing, as he saw his exposed chest something else was clearly amiss.
He knew what he looked like, knew his body well. Every day at the gym he worked hard to pump up. His body was his livelihood, the better he looked the more high paying Johns he got, and he liked feeling good about himself, strong, tough and in control. But now, his appearance was different.
His pecs, normally firm and well defined, seemed flat and undeveloped. His chest was hairless. Actually, his chest was ALWAYS hairless (he shaved it daily -- part of keeping that boyish look that sold so well) but this wasn't the same.
Staring at himself, he ran his hand over his chest. Normally he could feel the faint stubble where he shaved, but tonight his chest felt smooth and bare. And all those muscles, the ones he'd spent so many hours toning up at the gym, had all gone soft again.
But most disconcerting of all was the inexplicable bashfulness he felt. He'd known the feeling before, long ago, but it had been years since he'd felt shy about showing himself. His mind began to fall back to the first time he'd felt that feeling, that defining moment in his past when he was only fourteen years old.
"What is it?" Harry asked softly, his words seeming to come out of nowhere at Angel, who'd almost forgotten he was in the room. "What are you thinking about? Tell me, please?"
Angel looked up. He opened his mouth to say no, he didn't want to talk about himself, but instead the words came flooding out as the moment began to unreel like a movie in his mind.
"I... I was fourteen..." he stammered out haltingly. "It was the first time I ever, you know... That I ever..." his words faded into an awkward silence.
"Did something sexual with a man?" Harry finished for him.
Angel nodded, yes. His eyes looked blankly forward as he faded into his past. "The man next door, his name was Robert, and he was married, like you are...."
"I'm not married," Harry said softly. "Not anymore. But go on."
Angel's mind continued reeling into the past. "He had two sons. Jon and Greg... They were my friends... He'd always been really nice to me whenever I was over there.
"One day, I had another fight with my dad. He hit me around a bit again, I needed to get away. I went to their house, to see them... But they weren't home... He was, their dad... and he saw I was hurt and upset and..."
Angel was fourteen again, reliving the moment in every detail. The words spilled out as the memory unwound.
"He asked me inside..."
"Where are the boys?" Harry asked.
"Gone..." Angel answered, as if in a trance... "Gone on a trip with their mother. We were alone."
"What happened next?" Harry whispered, "Tell me."
"I... I started crying...." Angel fell into the man's arms, his head pressed in tears to his chest. In his mind, it wasn't Harry. It was "the man next door."
"I told him what happened," he sobbed, "how dad had been and.... He held me... and he was so nice. And then... he started to kiss me... First on my hair, then my forehead... my cheek.. And then...." Angel seemed to totally drift away.
Harry held the boy tightly in his arms, stroking his hair and nuzzling him, he put his mouth by the boy's ear and whispered so softly he could barely be heard. "What happened?"
"He told me how beautiful I was. How much he'd always liked to look at me when I was playing with his sons... and..."
Angel took a step back from Harry, continuing as if in a trance. "We went to his bedroom. He got undressed... I was nervous... So embarrassed. I didn't want him to see my thing, I was afraid he'd laugh at it. I didn't like the way I looked and I didn't like my thing and I was ashamed and shy. I'd never been naked in front of a man before. But he was so nice to me. And then..."
Though his eyes looked directly toward Harry, Angel didn't seem to be seeing him at all, but someone else. "I took off my shirt... Watched HIM get undressed. He was the only man besides my father I'd ever seen naked. He was so handsome... and kind. And then, he looked at me, waiting. He just stood there, not embarrassed at all, showing me all he had, like he trusted me, totally. And I knew he was waiting for me to do the same."
Angel's hands moved automatically to his shorts as he went through the actions of his past, "He watched me, and slowly, I took my pants down for him..." with a single smooth motion, Angel slide down his shorts, completely revealing himself.
"I let him see me, see my boy-thing. I was still embarrassed... Nervous... Scared. But he made me feel, it was okay, that I could trust him, that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of."
Harry's eye had never left those of the boy in front of him, until now. At last, he let himself gaze at the beautiful, naked form in front of him. The boy was stunning in his nudity, a perfect image of sensual youth. His uncircumcised penis stood erect and pointed straight up, without bend or curve across a modest crop of blond pubic hair.
Harry sighed under his breath as he gazed at what he saw. The boy was nothing short of dazzling in his exquisiteness, a perfect, idealized vision of adolescence.
"I was so shy," Angel finished, then blinked as if waking from a powerful dream. His eyes seemed to focus and he felt himself back in the room with Harry again.
"You had nothing to be ashamed of," Harry said, eyes locked on his incredible body. "Nothing."
Angel looked down at himself and was surprised to see he was now naked, although he hardly remembered doing it. He was even more surprised by what he saw.
He was erect.
It had been two years since he'd been able to get hard without considerable prodding. He never got erect with a John anymore. And yet, here he stood, as firm as he'd been the first time he'd ever dropped his pants for a man.
Angel let out a gasp.
Looking at himself he could see something wasn't right. There was something strange to him. His muscle tone was gone, his pubic hair seemed less full, his cock, less developed.
Something was happening to him!
He looked up at Harry, and the man could see the fear and confusion in the boy's eyes.
"It's okay..." Harry said reassuringly.
"What's happening to me?" Angel said, his voice trembling.
"It's all right," Harry comforted. "Here, lay down... you'll feel better."
His mind filled with confusion, Angel felt he could barely move. He let Harry guide him to the bed, then lay back as Harry sat beside him. He looked up at the mirror above and saw himself clearly for the first time.
This wasn't right! His body, his face... He looked like he was barely a teen again! What was going on?
"It's all right," Harry said, his voice confident and calming. "You're just confused. Try and think. How old are you?"
He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to remember. Was he fourteen? No! That wasn't right? Thirteen? No, not at all! He struggled to think? How old was he? He was... Damn! It was so hard to remember... but he knew he was.... he was...
"Nineteen!!" he blurted out, with considerable effort, struggling to hold the very thought.
"Really?" Harry said, sounding as if he didn't believe him. "You don't LOOK like your nineteen. In fact, I don't think you're a big boy at all. No, you're not that grown up. Why, you're just a kid."
Angel felt confused and frightened, it seemed right and wrong at the same time.
Slowly, tenderly, Harry began to explore the body of the stripped youth before him. His hands moved over the lad, examining his nude form in intimate detail. Though his touches were gentle and loving, there was no trace of sensuality to what he was doing. Harry felt-up the boy as freely as if he were a piece of property he owned, touching every part of his body without restraint or regard to what Angel was feeling, but it was not a sexual touch. Angel felt more like a patient being examined by a doctor than a call boy being fondled by a client. What was Harry doing to him?
"So, where do you live?" Harry asked.
Angel remembered his apartment well, the one he shared off LaBrea with three of Marko's other boys.
"Fairfax," he answered, and it was a strain to recall the name of the neighborhood he knew so well.
Harry smiled to himself. "Really?" He said, and as he did he pulled lightly on the foreskin surrounding the boy's naked penis... "Funny, you don't look Jewish," he said, making a joking reference to the largely Orthodox neighborhood.
Angel didn't get the connection but instead got a funny sensation, like a kid who's feelings were hurt. "You makin' fun of my petey?" he said, his voice sounding more like a sorrowful little boy then an experienced hooker.
Like a doctor, Harry took Angel's enormous penis in his hand and scrutinized it. Although it remained erect his handsome young cock was getting smaller.
"Awww," Harry said, as Angel lay there, looking up at his reflection in the mirror. "Look at you?" he said, "Soon you're gonna be such a cute little boy."
Terror went through Angel in a wave of panic. He struggled with all his might but found he couldn't move. Looking up he watched in horror as his pubic hair thinned to a few scattered wisps, then withdraw altogether, vanishing, leaving his abdomen as clean and naked as the day he'd been born. His cock too, was changing as he watched.
"Noooo," he heard himself whine pitifully, his voice cracking from its adult level to a child like soprano. What moments ago had been a thick and healthy eight inches of pure man meat was rapidly dwindling in Harry's hand. Angel watched in horror as his once proud member continued to shrink.
"I want my big peeteey!" Angel pouted childishly, watching that hefty cock that had been his great, manly pride slowly diminish. It did no good to protest. Harry just continued smiling as the once large shaft shrank in his adult hand, from major league adult organ, to tiny boyish plaything.
Despite his protests, within moments Angel's cock was nothing but a tiny little finger. Even fully erect the boyish thing was only about an inch-and-a-half long. Angel whimpered like a child who'd had his favorite toy taken from him.
Harry just smiled as he fingered the petite thing in his hand, clearly pleased by the change and fascinated by the process.
Angel tried to fight his situation, but couldn't move. He felt weak and fear ran through him. Not the fear of a man facing danger, but the uncontrollable fear of a child needing protection.
"What are you doing to me?" he pouted, his little boy voice as cute and childish as any nine year old. "Why are you makin' me little?"
"I'm giving us something we both need. Something most people never get. A second chance."
Harry turned and looked the boy in the face, reaching up to stroke his hair in the sweetest way. "I had a son once. And a wife. But they're gone now."
He looked at Angel and the kid could see Harry's eyes were moist. "You poor boy, you've had such a hard life. But I'm going to make it all better for you this time. You're going to get a chance to grow up all over again."
Horror ran through Angel and he began breathing heavily. With all his might he tried to thrash about, to break loose of the invisible bonds that held him, but he couldn't get his muscles to respond.
"Nooo, please, Mister..." he whimpered, a forlorn tone to his innocent little words... "I dunn wanna! I dunn wanna be a kid again, please!!! Dunn make me a little boy!"
"Why not?" Harry said as his eyes looked over Angel's rapidly regressing body. He couldn't be more then seven years old now. What had been a modest foreskin on the mature lad was now a highly pronounced proboscis on the boy's tiny pecker. "You're such an adorable little guy... Why don't you want to be a kid again? Don't you want to play with other little boys?"
"Noooo," he whined, "they're mean to me."
Harry couldn't seem to believe it. "How could they be mean to a sweet little boy like you?"
Angel felt tears running down his face as yet another, even more powerful recollection blasted its way into his mind. Like the others it wasn't so much a memory as a reliving. And he didn't WANT to relive this.
He was only five or six years old, going with class mates from pre-school on a trip to the pool. They finished swimming, then all the boys went through the locker room. The teacher made them all shower. It was the first time he'd ever been naked with other boys.
"Look at Angie!" Terrance Stout had shouted, pointing at him... "Look at his funny pee-pee!" he laughed, and soon all the boys had turned to look at him.
In the entire class he was the only uncut boy, and back then he didn't even understand what that meant. He hadn't known he was different. He didn't know WHY he was different. He'd never looked at other boys and no one, not his dad, not anyone, had ever explained to him about circumcision. Now, suddenly, all the boys were laughing at his pee-pee!
"It looks like an anteater!" Terrance said....
"It looks like a pig's nose!" another cried out and then started making oinking noises.
"Stop it!" he shouted, his hands moving to cover up his little pee-pee, "Stop laughing at me!!!"
Tears filled his eyes but Terrance grabbed his hand, pulled it away so everyone could look at his little, bitty dickie.
"Look at him!" Terrance said as Angie struggled to cover himself. Two other boys grabbed him and held his arms back, putting his weenie on display for all the class.
"How come you got such a funny pee-pee, Angie?" they asked him.
He struggled and cried and tried to break free but suddenly all the boys seemed to want to touch it! He was a curiosity to a bunch of boys who'd never seen a pee-pee like his. With mean ol' Terrance leading the way all of them were now touching him, feeling him, rubbing him and pulling on his little foreskin. They were too young to think about how he felt, too young to know what they were doing.
"Stop it!" he cried, and in spite of his feelings, his little member started to grow hard as a dozen little boys' hands fondled him.
"He's getting' a stiffie!" Terrance shouted with glee and he began to sing, "Angie's got a stiffie -- Angie's got a stiffie!"
All Angel could remember was the pain, the tears, the laughter at his expense.
"Angie likes having his pee-pee played with," Terrance shouted.
"Teacher's coming!" someone shouted. Suddenly they let him go and Angie collapsed to the floor crying as the boys ran back to where they were supposed to be.
When the teacher came in everything looked normal, except for little Angie, sitting by himself, his legs pulled up, his wee-wee still hard, crying in a corner against the wall of the shower.
"I think it would be best if we didn't tell your parents about this," the teacher told him later, obviously embarrassed that a child under his charge had been abused while he wasn't paying attention. "We don't want them to think we have a bad school, now do we? Promise you'll be a good boy now and I won't say anything to your parents about what you did in the shower today, showing off your hard pee-pee to the other boys."
It was a dirty trick but Angie was too young to know it and too terrified at the idea of his parents finding out about what had happened. He never told, but neither did he ever forget.
It was only a few days later that he happened to see his daddy changing. He looked at his dad's grown up wee-wee carefully. It had funny skin like his did. Maybe dad could tell him about it?
"Daddy?" he asked innocently, "how come your pee-pee looks funny?"
The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor, reeling in pain from the powerful slap across the face his father had given him.
"Don't you EVER talk like that again!" he said sternly. "It's not right for a boy to stare at a man's private parts. You got that son! And you never, EVER ask a man something like that! Jeezus Christ, boy! You want someone thinkin' I got a fag son or something?"
And Angie never asked his dad anything like that again.
That night Angie lay in bed crying, thinking how much he hated his own pee-pee and how much he wished he was like the other boys. Tears rolled down his cheek.
With a gentle touch, Harry wiped them away.
"No wonder you don't want to be a little boy again," he said, understanding the pain the child had endured. "But it won't be like that this time. I'll be there for you. I'll be your daddy this time, little guy, and I'll be good to you, I promise."
Angel looked up and saw himself in the mirror on the ceiling. The man he'd been had vanished entirely. Gone were his powerful muscles, developed chest and adult size. All traces of adolescence had long vanished from him, along with what had been a very enviable, man-sized cock.
Instead, he saw a naked little three year old laying in bed, totally exposed, helpless and sobbing. A tiny boyish erection poked impotently up from between his legs, where once great masculinity had ruled. He wasn't "Angel" anymore, he was little Angie again, the boy with the funny little wee-wee, the boy he'd been years ago, the boy he DIDN'T WANT TO BE!
He shook his head. This was a dream. Maybe he was drunk. This COULDN'T really be happening!!!
But it was all too real. He still knew who he was, his life, all of it, but he couldn't make it come out, couldn't make adult words and grown up talk, no matter how hard he tried.
"Pwease, no, daddy, pwease..." he said, shocked as his words came out sounding even more childish than before. With each passing moment he could see himself in the mirror, his naked body growing younger, and younger. Where would it stop!!??
"Me no wanna be a widdle boy, daddy! Me big boy! Me no wanna be widdle agin!"
Harry stroked his forehead lovingly, wiping his brow as a father might while attending to a feverish child. "There, there...." Harry said sweetly, "It'll be all right, I promise. With time you'll forget all about ever having been a grown up. Not right away, of course. It may take a long time, but eventually, most of it will fade away. Why pretty soon here I'll be your new Daddy and you'll be my cute new little baby boy."
Angel struggled and pushed and cried and whined and shook his head from side to side. "No, PWEASE, dada!" he cried. With effort he found he was finally able to move a bit. He began kicking his tiny little legs in the air, "No! Dada... Pwease.... Me no wan be baba!!" His ability to speak was fading rapidly.
It was happening faster now. With each moment he was going back quicker, regressing back to infancy! Memories of his old life, of a horrible childhood once lived, played out backwards in his mind. Experiences he didn't want to have to live through again.
"I loved my son," Harry spoke to him in calming, gentle tones. " I loved him so much. He was everything to me. He was with my wife in the car, and there was an accident. I lost them both." This time it was Harry who needed a moment to compose himself, but when he looked back at the little Angel in front of him he smiled as if he had been given back the most precious gift in all the world.
"But this time, daddy's going to be there. Nothing will hurt you, little guy. Nothing"
Angel looked at the infant in the mirror, his legs kicking, his naked little penis bouncing uselessly. It was him! He was a baby now! At last he could move, but when he tried to shout all that happened was the little baby in the mirror started to bawl.
"Waa... Wa... Waaaa....!" he cried, trapped inside his infant body.
"I know it will be hard at first, it'll take a while for you to forget about all this grown up stuff," Harry said to him calmly as he reached into the diaper bag and removed a large, disposable Pamper. "But it'll pass, in time."
In horror Angel looked at the diaper in the man's hand and a moment later he started to cry louder and harder then he had before. "This can't be happening to me," Angel thought to himself, "not to me, not to Angel!"
He tried to get away, but although he was able to move fully, he found he had no control over his limbs, no strength in them. Earlier that day he'd been pressing heavy weights at the gym... Now, he was so weak he couldn't lift his own infant body!
With one hand, Harry rolled him over so that Angel's little bottom was facing up. He struggled with his limbs against the bed, but couldn't move. The smell of talcum and a soft sprinkling on his little behind soon told him what was happening. He felt Harry's warm hand begin to rub his little hinny.
Oh how he cried! The shame of it was more than the once proud call boy could endure.
He felt Harry's gigantic fingers reaching between his diminutive cheeks and up between his tiny little legs, rubbing softly all over him, right up and over his now empty little infant's scrotum, as Harry spread the baby powder into every crack and crevice of his tiny bottom. As a call boy Angel had done more weird, kinky and indecent things with his Johns then he cared to remember, but nothing he had ever done, nothing he'd ever experienced in his life, made him feel more ashamed and humiliated than he felt now, having himself fondled and diapered as a little baby boy.
He tried to protest. He was so weak he could barely lift the weight of his own head. All the unhappy infant could do was wail pathetically.
After a moment Harry turned him over on his back. Angel looked up, barely able to see through the blur of his baby tears. Harry's giant face beamed down at him with a loving and radiant smile.
A moment later Angel felt Harry's mammoth hands on his tiny, uncut penis. Amazingly, he was still erect, his organ even more sensitive to touch now than when he was as an adult.
As Harry gently kneaded powder into the baby boy's minute genitalia, the
infant stopped crying. Angel couldn't believe how good it felt.
For a moment Angel lost himself in the heavenly sensations of Harry's touch. What had once been his enormous manly cock, now fit snuggly in the palm of his new daddy's hand. The incredible comfort he felt, the strength and reassurance of feeling Daddy's big warm hand stroking and engulfing ALL of his tiny little organ, gave him a inner satisfaction he'd never known before. The sensation radiated out from his miniscule organ like a glow of pleasure, calming his entire being.
"Good boy," Harry said to him in response, and Angel felt a funny, pleasant emotion along with the kind words, "That's dada's good widdle boy!" he repeated condescendingly.
Angel sniffled, looking up into the kindly face of the giant who loomed over him. He was a nice man. He had a touch that felt nice to the baby and made him think he would be a good daddy.
Angel watched as Harry finished rubbing his tender penis, then placed a soft diaper under his bottom and pulled the material up to cover his itty-bitty organ. The enveloping comfort of the material felt nice against his still hard little dinky.
"There you go," Harry said to him as he finished fastening the Pamper. "Now dada's boy be all nice and dry!"
Angel wanted to cry in his shame, but felt there was nothing he could do now. His intellect fading, his emotional needs growing, he was now more a frightened little baby than anything else. With no other method of expressing his needs, he lifted his little arms up toward Harry, wanting to be picked up.
A smile spread across Harry's face as he lifted the little guy and pressed the child to him, hugging him, kissing him, loving him tenderly. After a moment he lifted him up high in the air and smiled at what he saw. Angel felt so suddenly frightened he began to kick his little legs and cry again, bawling uncontrollably.
"My god, look at you!" Harry said.
Harry walked to the mirror on the dresser and let Angel see what he had become.
A tiny, little infant, only months old, wearing only a diaper and held lovingly in the arms of his dada looked back at him. He began to cry harder. What had Harry done to him!? This wasn't right! This couldn't be him!? This couldn't be Angel, the hooker of Santa Monica Boulevard!
In his mind he still remembered who he'd been, remembered he was really a grown up, a sex slave of the streets, but the details were already starting to fade as his infant mind remade itself. Although the memory of who he was and his life would remain for a long time, he had no way to communicate them. Emotions took the place of words.
This was his new life. This was his new dada. His feeling told him that. Accept it.
Harry took the baby into his arms once more and held him warm and close against him. Suddenly Angel wasn't afraid anymore. Dada was here. Dada loved him.
A sense of peace and calm descended upon him and with it a strange sense of acceptance. Angel lay his little head on dada's shoulder, sniffled once more, then closed his eyes and fell asleep in those great, big, loving arms.
Marko had waited in the lobby long enough. With a snap of his fingers he motioned for his man, Jordan, to follow him upstairs. They pounded on the door and were shocked when, a moment later, a man holding a sleeping baby opened up.
"Yes?" the man said.
Marko and Jordan looked at one another confused, then shoved their way inside. "Where is he?" Marko demanded.
"Where's who?" the man asked.
"You know damn well, who! Where's my boy, Angel!?"
Harry seemed to flush red... "Oh, you must be, oh..." he feigned shock. "He, eh, he left a long time ago."
"WHAT!?" Marko shouted as he went apoplectic with rage.
"Yeah, he took all the money and split out the back window."
"SHIT!" Marko and Jordan both charged to the window and looked out. There was a fire escape leading right to the ground.
"He said he was trying to avoid someone, that he was tired of this crap and wouldn't be coming back. Are you friends of his?"
"God damn fag boy try and fuck me, will he!" Marko screamed as he stormed around.
The shouting woke the baby. When he opened his eyes and saw the man in the room, he suddenly exploded in a little baby fit, crying uncontrollably in fear.
"Now look what you've done!" Harry shouted. "You've scared him and I just got him to sleep! "
"Fuck you AND your goddamned baby!" Marko shouted! "Jordan!" he gave a quick gesture and his man followed him out the door.
The two tore down the hallway with Marko shouting, "Gonna fuckin' break his goddamn cock suckin' teeth out when I find that mutha fucker!!" And that, was the last thing Angel ever heard from Marko.
When Harry got back down to the rented Dodge Caravan he was still trying to comfort his infant son. "There, there, there.... Bad man all go bye byes now. Daddy's not gonna let anybody hurt his little precious." A black Lexus tore out from behind the hotel and with a screech of tires, and the smell of burning rubber, vanished into the LA night.
Harry smiled, fastening his little Angel into the car seat. The baby looked around.
Even now, Angel still knew who he was inside, knew he wasn't really a baby, "me am big boy" he thought to himself. But with each passing moment his memories were fading, memories of a bad life, memories even he agreed, were best forgotten.
As his thoughts grew more infantile his emotions took over. He knew he wasn't happy and started to fuss uncontrollably. Almost instantly a pacifier was shoved into his eager little mouth.
As a hooker and a call boy Angel had many things most people would have found far more disgusting put in his mouth, but this was the first time he ever felt humiliated about it. Realizing what he had been reduced to he was about to cry again, but instincts he couldn't control kicked in and he started to suck at the binkie just as any other baby would. As he did, a relaxing sense of peace came over him. He looked up at the man in the driver's seat. Dada looked back at him with a kind and loving smile, then turned, and started the engine to take him to his new home.
"Good dada..." the baby thought to himself, and soon the little angel was asleep.
This story is dedicated to the memory of John H., a true life friend of Angel's who deserved a second chance, but never got it.