Eric 7 (tt tb mt oral anal AR)
by Lloyd311
Important Note:This story part contains mature subject matter and some graphic descriptions of personal encounters. If you do not wish to read or might be offended by explicit language and/or descriptions, please use your browser's 'BACK' button now. The subject matter that follows may not be intended for those under 18. This is a work of fiction and the characters are not representative of any person living or dead.
Author's Note: This story contains elements of age regression in which a man is gradually made physically younger over time. Some parts of this story, although perhaps not this particular section, contain descriptions of sexual contact between this man and others as he is regressed into a Teen, a Boy and so on.
When Eric awoke the next morning, disturbed by the images of his dreams, and confused by his unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a few seconds to figure out where he was. He looked around, and gradually the events of the previous night came back to him. Eric noticed an uncomfortable cold, wet feeling down in his diaper, and was horrified to realize that he had wet himself again in his sleep. Eric called out for someone to help him, but when no one responded, he started to cry in frustration, and absently slipped his little thumb into his mouth. Finally, Brian responded to Eric's cries and found the little jock standing, holding onto the bars of the crib, his face red with the angry tears. When he saw Brian enter, Eric stifled his sobs to quiet whimpers, but continued to suck firmly on his little thumb.
"What's all this crying about?" Brian asked in a patronizing tone.
Eric frowned a little, and blushed. "I wetted myself," he said, looking at the floor. He was surprised by how childishly the words came out.
"Awww, did the widdle baby do a peepee in his di-dee?" asked Brian mockingly. Eric held out his arms for his 'big brother' to pick him up. "Bwian pick up Ewic!" he said... It happened again. He hadn't meant to say it that way at all - he just wanted Brian to pick him up, and it was coming out like 'baby-talk.'
Eric was really scared now. "Why me talk wike this?" How could he be thinking one thing, and have something entirely different come out of his mouth? Brian could see how upset the little guy was getting, so he picked him up and cradled him at his chest. He patted Eric's back as he calmly tried to explain. "There, there... Dad said this was going to happen to you. You're still thinking like a grown up, but it's getting harder and harder for you to talk that way. It has something to do with your brain being more like a baby's and your emotions and all. Sorry I can't explain it better... now let's get you out of that wet diaper." He laid Eric on the changing table and took off his sodden diaper. He cleaned him up with a baby-wipe, and started to put a fresh diaper on the tiny hockey star, but Eric protested.
"Noooooo! Daddy told me I could wear big boy shorts in the daytime! Me only have to wear di-dees to bed." Eric hated the way the words sounded. He sounded... well, like a little baby. And Brian seemed to be loving it.
"Well, you've already wet yourself twice, and I don't want to have to clean up a mess and change all your clothes every time you have an accident. If Dad says you get another chance, though, I guess I have to go along." Brian put the diaper back in the drawer. "But if Baby Eric makes a messy in his pants again, it's going to be diapers from now on!" Brian reached into another drawer and pulled out a pair of 'training pants'. They were like little white cotton jockey shorts, only they didn't have a fly, and the material in the front was very thick, to absorb the accidents a baby boy is likely to have. Eric didn't really like the looks of them, but he was so happy not to have to wear the diapers that he didn't protest as Brian dressed him.
When Eric was fully dressed, Brian picked him up and stood him on the floor. He looked at himself in the wall mirror. By this point, Eric was used to being surprised by what he saw in the mirror. He saw a little baby boy, a toddler with overall shorts, a little T-shirt and Reeboks (all from Baby Gap), pudgy little knees, round cheeks and wispy blonde hair. There was no trace of the buff athlete he had once been.
Brian took Eric's hand and walked him to the kitchen where Coach was getting breakfast ready. He picked the little guy up and sat him in high chair. This was another new experience for the toddler, and he protested as Brian locked the tray table down in front of him and tied a bib around his neck. "Me not a ba-bee," he pouted. Once he started to eat his cereal, however, it was clear that he needed the bib. For some reason, Eric couldn't work his spoon right. It was like his hands couldn't do what he wanted them to. Brian offered to help, but Eric insisted on doing for himself. Soon though, Eric had as much milk on his face, and all over everything else, as he managed to get into his mouth. Coach cleaned him up and picked him up out of the highchair and set him on the floor. Eric again marveled at how puny and helpless he was, getting underfoot as Brian and Coach cleared the breakfast dishes and cleaned up Eric's mess.
Coach had another meeting in the city, so Brian and Eric were on their own. Not long after Coach left for the day, Brian decided to take Eric for a short walk down the street. Eric was beginning to show signs of unsteadiness on his feet, and Brian thought that maybe the walk might do him some good. 'Do you have to go to the bathroom before we go?" Brian asked. Eric shook his head no, reluctant to say much of anything now that all his words always came out in baby talk. So they headed down the driveway and down the street, Brian holding on to Eric's little hand, partly to make sure he didn't trip, but Eric just wouldn't let go of his 'big brother's' hand either. Eric got tired of walking after a little while, so Brian picked him up and carried him on his shoulders. Eric loved it - straddling Brian's big, strong neck, and bouncing on his muscular shoulders with every stride. It wasn't too long before Eric noticed that he had a little stiffy going in his thickly padded underpants. After about 10 or so minutes, however, Eric realized that he had to go to the bathroom. "Bwian," he said softly, "Me have to go potty." Brian quickly picked him up off his shoulders and stood him on the ground - he didn't want the little tike to have an accident sitting on his shoulders. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "I just asked you 10 minutes ago if you had to go!"
"Me not have to go then," Eric said in response, blushing again just from the sound of his voice, and the immaturity of the words. So they turned and headed back toward the house, with Eric tightly squeezing his little peepee as hard as he could. He did not want to have an 'accident,' but he knew it would be hard to make it all the way back to the house. He squeezed as hard as he could, but soon every step caused a little pee to squirt out. Finally, when they had almost reached the driveway, something happened ... Eric had been trying so hard to hold in his peepee, that he was totally taken by surprise by the sudden strange, warm, but not unpleasant sensation in the seat of his pants. Before he could even figure out what was happening, the smell hit him and left no doubt. He was sh*tting his pants! Even worse though, he couldn't stop. He tried, but it just kept coming, filling his pants. And Eric was so upset and humiliated at the whole thing, that he forgot to keep trying to hold in his peepee, and the warm liquid ran down his legs too. Brian noticed the smell and the wet stain in Eric's coveralls. He could also see the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Eric - what did you do?"
Shame and humiliation burned bright on Eric's cheeks as he was forced to admit, 'I made a poo poo.' Brian stopped and squatted down in front of Eric and wiped the tears from his face. "Don't cry, Eric. It isn't like you can help it. You're just too little now. We'll get you home and cleaned up, okay?" Eric nodded silently, his eyes still wet with tears. Brian took Eric by the hand and led him back to the house. Poor little Eric walked all the way back to the house with a steaming load in his pants, and his bowlegged gate made it clear that he was in some serious discomfort. Brian laid poor little Eric up on the changing table, and removed his soiled pants and training pants. He was a mess. Brian cleaned him up as best he could. "I guess we'd better give you a bath," he said. Eric fussed a little, but he figured his 'big brother' knew best - that's what Daddy said. Brian ran the bath, and sat the tiny hockey star in the warm water. This wasn't the first time Eric had been bathed, of course. Daddy had made him take baths before. He'd said that Eric was too little for showers. And Daddy had helped him clean himself too. But as Brian slowly washed him in the warm water, rubbing him all over with the soapy washcloth, Eric loved it. This was better then with Daddy. Eric loved all the attention Brian was giving him, in particular the special attention the diminished athletes little peanut was getting. He guessed Brian wanted to make sure it was extra clean.
After his bath, Brian told Eric that he was going to have to wear diapers all the time from now on. Eric cried at the realization, but didn't argue. He knew he had lost that now too. "How much more am I going to have to lose?" he wondered. He was soon to find out. That very afternoon, Eric's troubles from earlier in the day quickly got worse and worse. He began losing his balance and tripping constantly. By the time the Coach came home, Eric was unconsciously walking along the walls, and holding on to furniture to keep his balance. When he did have to venture into the middle of the room without anything to hold on to, he fell down. On top of this, he had lost his ability to speak all but the most basic of words, too. 'Da Da' was Daddy, of course, but 'Ba Ba' meant Brian, and Bottle, and Binky too. Other than that, all he was able to get out was little more than a baby's gibberish. That night, while Eric was sitting on the floor looking at the TV, Daddy called him over - he had a bottle of juice for Eric to drink before bed.
"Ba Ba!" Eric exclaimed excitedly. Without even realizing that he was doing it, Eric found himself CRAWLING across the floor. He hadn't even tried to walk! Eric continued to crawl to Daddy, tears streaming down his chubby little cheeks at the knowledge that, at least for a while, his walking days were behind him. Daddy smiled down at his star player as he leaned down to pick him up. He held Eric in his lap as the he sucked hungrily at the nipple. When he was done, Daddy carried Eric to his crib and laid the little guy in the crib. He began to fuss right away, so Coach slipped Eric's binky into his mouth, and tried to comfort the crying baby. "There, there," he said. "It will all be over soon..." He patted him gently on his back as Eric drifted off to sleep, sucking away on his pacifier.
When Eric awakened the next morning, all he could think was that he needed something to suck on. He absently slipped his thumb into his mouth. As he sucked on his thumb, he couldn't feel anything except for his gums. While he slept, he had lost the last of his baby teeth. And somehow, the thumb just wouldn't do the trick this morning. He spied his binky across the crib, and tried to roll over onto his stomach so he could crawl over to get it. But he couldn't. I mean, forget about the crawling, he couldn't even roll over! He lay there on his back and helplessly kicked his little feet in the air, and squirmed and wriggled, but he could do nothing to move himself. He cried out in alarm, and tried to call out for 'Da Da' or 'Ba Ba' to come help him, but even those simple words were now beyond him. All that came out of his toothless little mouth were the angry squawks of a crying infant. After a few moments, Daddy came into the room and picked up the squealing little Eric. He held him to his shoulder and gently patted his back, trying to calm him down. He jammed the binky into his mouth, and only then did the wailing diminish. Daddy walked over to the mirror, and Eric gazed into the reflection. He saw a tiny, helpless infant in the Coach's arms - red faced from his recent tantrum, and with only traces of wispy blonde hair. Once he had calmed down, Coach laid him on the changing table. He changed Eric's wet diaper, and dressed him in a little one-piece outfit with feet. Eric could hardly lift his head up. It felt as if it were half the size of his body, which in fact was pretty close to the truth. Coach carried him into the living room, and laid him on a blanket on the floor. "Daddy will be right back with Baby's breakfast, and he has a surprise for his favorite little forward too!"
Eric lay there waiting for Daddy to return, and thought about his fate. He was now completely helpless. He couldn't walk, he couldn't talk - hell, he couldn't even lift up his head. All he could do for sure, was suck whatever found its way into his mouth, and fill his diaper. Coach returned with a bottle of baby formula. He picked Eric up and cradled him in the crook of his arm as he held the bottle in front of the hungry little jock. "Daddy has fixed you a very special bottle this morning, Eric." Eric cooed contentedly. "Daddy put some nice medicine in Baby's bottle to make him grow big and strong like he was before. Does widdle Ewic understand his Da Da?" Eric reached out for the bottle with his little hands, but gave no other sign of understanding. He tried in vain to grasp for the bottle, to hold it for himself, but of course he couldn't. Daddy had to hold it for him. Eric sucked greedily at the bottle, hungry for the formula and for the promise of returning to normal, but also from a compulsion he couldn't begin to understand.
"Eric, Daddy is sorry that he couldn't tell you how little you would have to get, but it just would have made it harder for you. Everything we have done to this point has been a prelude - undoing the damage as much as keeping you occupied until we reached this point. Tomorrow, Daddy will start to remake you. You will live and breathe hockey from now on. What we do from now on will change your life!" Eric sucked and sucked, eager to take all of the medicine, but before he was half done, he started to feel full, unable to take anymore. Coach smiled understandingly, as Eric reluctantly pushed the bottle away. He placed Eric over his shoulder, and patted him firmly on the back. Eric didn't understand what Daddy was doing, but suddenly he felt gas escape from his belly, and he burped. And then he realized what Daddy was doing - he was burping him! Daddy then placed the nipple back in little Eric's mouth so he could finish his bottle. Unable to do even the most basic things for himself, Eric could at least take comfort at this point that things were at least going to get better for him, and that his days of humiliation were numbered.
Later that day, Coach put the hapless infant into the car seat, and drove to a medical campus outside of town. Little Eric was confused by the surroundings. He knew he was in a doctor's office, but he couldn't figure why, and of course he couldn't ask. Daddy handed the frightened babe to the nurse, who carried Eric into a small room. She laid him on the pediatric operating table and removed his diaper. The she laid a cover over him that exposed only his little peepee. Then the doctor entered and picked up the small scalpel, Eric realized with horror what was about to happen to him. The nurse held the struggling little athlete firmly down as the doctor performed the circumcision.
Coach had always felt strongly about the benefits of circumcision. He thought it was a good thing. He was circumcised. His son was. And now he meant to have Eric circumcised too. Besides, it would serve as a constant reminder to his star forward just whose little boy he was - and always would be!