Tale #53: New Year, Old You

Tale #53: New Year, Old You (Content Tags: Age regression, magic, sentiment, friendship, messy diapers, throwing up from a hangover, optimistic) Jesse had killed the bottle last night at the New Years party, after he'd already been drunk as a skunk at that. There was nothing new there; the man was a step removed from clinical alcoholism, and the holiday gave him a reasonable excuse to get absolutely trashed without forking over a dime. He'd actually been surprised to get the invitation. Jesse had a bad habit (of many others) to burn bridges, and he'd been pretty certain that Zane was one of those bridges that'd been reduced to ash. Zane was a friend from childhood, and they'd remained close up through college, but Jesse had fucked that up. He'd been desperate for cash at the time, to pay off a loan shark that he'd indebted himself to, and instead of asking Zane for his help, he'd instead stolen from his dear friend. That had been five years prior, and Zane had shut the door on him, just like so many others, up until now. His old buddy had reached out and mentioned that he wanted to catch up, without even bringing up the bad blood that Jesse had made between them. Jesse was skeptical, but then Zane had mentioned that it was an open bar event. That'd clinched it for the burnout, he wasn't going to pass up a chance for free booze, and after his last girlfriend had left him, it wasn't exactly like he'd made any plans for that night. Being between jobs also meant that he didn't have to worry about the hangover for the next day. So he'd made the trip out to the city that Zane now lived in. The address he typed in his phone had brought him to a ritzy neighborhood, and that was when he had realized that Zane had really made it as an archaeologist or whatever nerdy shit he'd been majoring in during college. Zane's house had made that even more apparent. It was easily a multi-million dollar estate, while Jesse was two months behind on rent for the cracker-box apartment in the ghetto he called home sweet home. The party was full of important looking people, which had made Jesse feel inadequate in his wrinkled duds, but after a few shots, he'd stopped caring. While Zane had answered the door to let him in, his former best friend had soon after been approached by others who wanted to speak with the host. Zane told him to make himself at home, and that they'd catch up later in the evening. Jesse didn't have to be told twice, and he'd split his attention between the open bar and the beautiful ladies who wandered around the party. A couple of hours in and Jesse had gone to have a smoke outside on the balcony. He was buzzed and full of conflicting emotions; one part of him was happy to see how successful that Zane had become, but another was jealous and maybe even a little resentful. His own life had amounted to little, and now that he was entering his thirties, he didn't see any ramp to a better place. "Still smoking those stogies, huh? I'd have hoped that you might have kicked the habit by now." Zane had gone to find him, and he'd approached just as Jesse had lit up his second cigarette. With a puff and a trail of smoke, Jesse had turned to face his host, with a sheepish smile and a whiskey sour in hand. "Yeah, not a great habit, I know...They're just hard to kick, man." He replied, flicking the ash off the tip. "Great party, by the way. Looks like things have really slid into place for you." Zane nodded and leaned on the balcony beside him, his own warm breath in the frigid air mimicking the smog of Jesse's cigarette. "Can't complain. Things really went my way after my first expedition." "Yeah, I didn't think there was so much money in, uh, doing the 'Indiana Jones' shit. If I did, then I wouldn't have been majoring in 'Business Management' or whatever, not that I finished anyways, but.." Jesse awkwardly trailed off and took a sip of his drink. "Never went back to finish, huh? Well, the whole suit and tie thing...You would have hated that bullshit anyways. What kind of work do you do now?" "I'm uh, a freelancer." Jesse lied, looking out at the night sky. "So, um, between gigs and all that." "Writing? I remember you used to love to write. Did that...No-No Write-Oh, or whatever it was called, like three years in a row!" "Na-No-Wri-Mo." The man corrected, "Uh, yeah. I really thought I'd be some bigshot author, and then my folks told me how useless an English degree would be." The two ended up chatting for an hour, kept warm by the bittersweet glow of their fond memories together. Jesse was remembering things that he hadn't thought of in years; things from their youth and their adolescence. It was the first time in a long while that he'd sincerely smiled, and that he'd felt happiness that couldn't be explained by a foreign substance. Toward the end, Zane got a more serious look on his face, and his eyes had a sadness to them. "So, Jesse...Are you happy with your life?" He'd again lied, though the deep sorrow within had a way of bubbling to the surface. He'd never been a great actor. Zane gave him another look and then told him to enjoy the rest of the party, and that'd been the end of their discussion. Needing something to drown the troubles that had been dredged to the surface, Jesse took Zane on the offer and returned to the open bar for the remainder of his evening. Now that he was waking up with a massive headache, the next morning, he could vaguely remember Zane telling him to crash there for the night to sober up. That was sweet and all, but it also meant that Jesse would have to awkwardly wave his friend goodbye the following morning, while nursing one hell of a hangover at that. As he rolled over on the bed in the guest room where he had slept, he felt something strange going on down below. It didn't click right away, since he was groggy still, but the smell became a dead giveaway; he'd gotten so wasted that he'd shat his pants! "..Aww..fuck.." He murmured, his eyes then widening as his voice sounded way too high pitched to be his own. Jesse pulled the blanket off of himself and was greeted by the sight of childish looking pajamas and stubby little legs. He wiggled his toes to confirm that they belonged to him and felt his heart start to pound. Just what the hell was going on?! He began to scramble out of the bed, his head still aching, not to mention the rest of his body, and the smell of his own shit lingering like smoke in the humid air. "Ugh...What the fuck...Am I still dreaming? Or did someone put some hard shit in the booze?" An urge came from below, one he was familiar with, since he was such a heavy drinker. He needed to find the toilet, or a trash can, and quickly. The man staggered out into the hall and swiftly made his way down it, struggling to keep his balance and his stomach both happy. Luckily, there was a restroom not far from his room, so he was able to make it and kneel down in front of the toilet, with the expectation of what would be coming next. "...And that's why you need to learn moderation." Came Zane's voice from the entry of the bathroom. "Too much liquor and it starts to want to come back up." Jesse would have made some snarky comment about being used to the consequences of his indulgence, but he suddenly had to lean forward and let loose into the porcelain bowl in front of him. Simultaneously, which hadn't happened since he was a kid, his bowels decided to cut loose too. There was a wet crackling and what sounded like running water in the back of his pajamas, and Jesse felt mortified that it must be so obvious that he was shitting his pants while he puked his guts out. But he didn't feel any of the explosive diarrhea soaking past his boxers, in fact, it felt oddly contained right against him! "Oof. I don't think I've seen you 'walk like an Egyptian' since that time in fifth grade, when we got sick with a stomach thing, right after that pizza buffet place? You remember that shit? I never knew anyone else who did the whole 'pharohing' thing, but maybe people just don't want to admit it." Zane chuckled, leaning against the counter and reminiscing. "Ughhh...Fuck, man...Sorry about your floors...I don't think this is a normal hangover...Something else is wrong...Doesn't my voice sound weird to you?" Zane's smile got weaker and he looked down at his sickly friend. "No, you *do* have a bad hangover. There wasn't enough left for you to offer to get rid of it." Jesse felt his stomach settle for a moment and he met eyes with Zane, squinting at the bathroom light that was exacerbating his headache. "..Huh?" "Jesse, nobody drugged you or anything like that. Your voice is just how it should be, just like I remember it. I asked you last night if you were happy with your life, and I know you said that you were, but...Well, you've always been a shitty liar." Zane knelt down and rubbed his friend's back to help him feel better. "I hated to see you make so many bad choices. I kept telling myself that you'd get your act together, and then things just...Snowballed. When you stole from me, I was really hurt, and I thought that meant it was time to just give up on you. Our friendship means too much to me though, man, to just let you destroy yourself." Jesse was confused, nauseated, and in real pain. What was Zane trying to say? Was this some kind of intervention or something? "...I'm rambling, I know. Let me make this a little clearer: I'm giving you the chance to start over, to do shit right. I found a lot of things in my expeditions, not just things that made me rich; I found an artifact that has, like, magic powers I guess." "..What the *fuck* are you talking about, dude?" Jesse's blunt response was followed up with another heaving go over the front of the toilet, and like before, he exploded from both ends. He could feel Zane's hand rubbing circles on his back, and he was reminded of the same scenario when they'd been kids. Kids. Holy shit, was that what was wrong with him? The squeaky voice, the messed up perception of proportion or height, this new 'reset' that Zane was prattling on about... "Geeze, dude...I'm glad I sprung for the top-tier ones..." Zane muttered, glancing down at the swollen backside of Jesse's pajamas. "Should I get you some water or something?" Water? Water?! Zane was saying all this stuff about magic and he wanted to pivot to talking about something as casual as water? Same old Zane, it almost brought a smile to Jesse's lips. "...I need water, and...Answers. And pants, because I'm pretty sure I shit mine." A few minutes later and Jesse was nursing a cup of cool water, while Zane leaned against the bathroom counter. After a few sips, he put it down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Answers, go. Don't give me the wikipedia article, just explain this shit like its a Twitter post." The man laughed a little, "Alright, alright. I used the ancient magic of the 'hidden temple' to turn you back into a kid. Unfortunately, I couldn't cure your hangover too." "What, you can defy biological reality, but you can't perform the same function as a McDouble and a corner-store bloody mary?" "Listen, smartass, I barely had enough to work with to get you the basic package. The magic works on an exchange system, and as much as you lied about your success last night, the artifact digs a bit deeper. To make you a kid again, I had to scrape everything you had, and uh...And some extra." Jesse didn't like the sound of that. "Extra?" "I'm sure you've noticed that you're not sitting in a puddle of your own filth, right? Well, you are, but its not all over the bathroom floor." Zane gestured down, motioning for Jesse to figure out the rest. Jesse was no genius, but even a slacker like him could put two and two together; a pat to the front of his pajamas was confirmation. "...Did you put a diaper on me?" "Yeah. I mean, I would've anyways because of all the drinking, and with your new body, but uh...Well, I had to trade some of your toilet-training to finish things up. Those diapers are going to be staying for a while." Jesse rubbed his head, mind fluttering with pain and possibilities. He still couldn't believe any of it, but he was too sick from the booze to push back against any of it. "So...We don't talk for five years and you decide to turn me into a little kid that needs Pampers, because...What? Because you pity me? Because you think I'd be less of a loser if I was pint-sized?" "Because I care about you, and because I miss you. I don't pity you, I just thought you deserved a 'do-over'. All the money or success in the world hasn't made me as happy as I was when we used to hang out and have fun." Tears welled up in Jesse's eyes over the naked sentiment; his own heart was warmed by the affection of his friend, of the forgiveness being offered. "The way I see it, there are three choices. The first choice is that I turn you back, using my own fortune as exchange, and we can slum it together. The second is that you stay like this and I'll give you every opportunity to succeed in a new life. The third is...Well, the third is that I burn everything I have to give, and we both go back to the start of our friendship, and we grow back up together." Zane bent down to get eye to eye with the teary-eyed kid on the ground. "I'll let you choose. What do you want to do?" Jesse smiled. He knew what choice to make.