Roland reached for another piece of chicken and noticed that his chair seemed to have gotten smaller. The table came up to his chest and he could barely touch his plate that sat just six inches away from the edge of the table. The tickling, tingling feeling that ran thrills up his spine gave way to an inner scintillating sensation that started deep within his bowels and seemed to radiate out to his fingers and toes. He felt so good that it was difficult to remember to eat. Louise wiped her lips with her napkin and laid it beside her plate of pearly clean oyster shells before she reached over the table and helpfully pushed his plate to the edge so he could continue to eat. He took another piece and began chewing it as his other shoe fell off his remaining foot unnoticed. Roland looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time as his mind began to wander. Everything Roland saw was surrounded by shifting multihued aura that danced and whirled in the most fascinating patterns. When he looked down and saw that his dress shirt was draped around his legs like a sleeping gown, he smiled at the odd transformation of his clothes. The tiny rational part of his mind that remained gibbered in fear, but the rest of him felt too good to worry about small matters like the state of his clothes. He had never worried about his clothes before in his life, so why should he start then? When he moved his bottom to make himself more comfortable on the cushion which had suddenly become huge, his change and wallet-weighted pants pulled themselves from beneath him to slide down his legs soundlessly and land on his shoes. His briefs lay pooled about the middle of his thighs as if they were ten sizes too big. Roland stopped eating and stared down at his underwear in wondering disbelief at his sudden near-naked state. His confusion was interrupted with a curt command from his wife, saying, “Finish your dinner, Roland!”
His mental confusion made her order impossible to resist, although he was a trifle vexed that she had used the name his mother called him when he was a small child. “Why did she call me Roland? I’m not a little boy,” Roland puzzled as he picked up the next to the last piece of chicken and ate it.
Louise looked at her “soon to be” ex-husband with a smile on her face. His chubby fingers and face told her he had regressed to about three and a half years old. Once he finished his chicken, he’d be ready for his milk. She moved her chair around to his side of the table and began to cut up the final piece of chicken into small pieces while he chewed and watched her with wide, innocent eyes. When he swallowed, she turned his chair towards her. Louise took his napkin from his lap and tucked it loosely in the neck of his shirt to act as a bib, then ladled up a bit a chicken in his dessert spoon. Roland looked around the room with a perplexed expression as she put her hand underneath his chin and began to spoon-feed him. Roland was so disoriented by his regression that he made no objection to being fed like an infant. He couldn’t understand why his clothes had fallen off and how the table had grown. All he knew was how the pleasant tingly feeling that had enveloped his entire body a few minutes before seemed to center itself around his lips and cheeks. Louise’s hand held his entire chin as if she had suddenly become a giant. She loomed so large over him that he felt small and helpless by comparison. He was comforted when he saw that her face seemed to be lit from within by some pure light of its own. She looked as if her head had been framed by luminescent crown of the Holy Madonna on a painting created by an Italian Renaissance artist . He couldn’t remember Louise looking so radiant. From his experience, only brides, pregnant women and new mothers had that look.
“Come on, Roland! Open your mouth like a good boy!”, Louise said in a maternal tone as she brought the spoon close to his mouth, “Here comes the Choo-Choo! Open up the Roundhouse doors!” He opened his mouth almost absent-mindedly as Louise said, “Chugga-chugga, woo-woo!” as she fed him one spoonful after another. His mouth seemed so incredibly sensitive! He savored the taste of the tiny pieces of chicken as he rolled them around his mouth before he swallowed them. Roland could taste the chicken not only with his tongue, but with the insides of his cheeks as well. He couldn’t remember when the simple act of eating felt so glorious! The tingling in his mouth increased with every minute until he wanted to moan in an ecstasy of sensual rapture. Within minutes, he had finished the last shred of chicken as he continued to shrink down to the size of a eighteen-month-old baby.