Derrick shivered slightly as he dropped back in pre-pubescence and the oversized tool he was so proud of shrank back into a nub that was still large for his age. The reflection in the cloudy water remained familiar until he was about six years old, the point when he had started his Scottish life. As Hebe continued to wash the magic waters over him, he dropped another year, then another. Four and a cute redhead, the toddler he would have been.
Then even that image melted into a three year-old, then a two year-old. Hebe was holding him up now, and everything looked huge. And he felt so weak! It was only for two weeks, he kept reminding himself. He could stand anything for two weeks, especially if he would end up as the redhaired stud again. Still, it was disconcerting to lose control of his muscles. He sagged against Hebe's hand as he dropped below one year old and kept shrinking.
When she finally lifted him out of the water and lay him down on clean, soft towels, his attempts to talk came out as gurgles and nonsense. The words were in his brain, but he couldn't remember how to make the sounds. Arms and legs moved, but he wasn't sure he would be able to stand, much less walk. The young woman dried him off, grinning and poking gently at his rounded tummy. "You are so cute! And there is no risk of you experimenting. You cannot talk or walk, and no one will think you are anything but a very precocious little ginger infant."
Derrick's mind struggled to keep up - it wasn't so much that he had forgotten anything, it was more like he couldn't quite connect to his body. He could move his arms and legs, and close his fingers to grip things, but there was no fine control. He started to get frustrated, and felt tears welling up.
"Now, now. None of that. You're a happy little guy!" Hebe grinned and poked his tummy. Her touch scattered Derrick's thoughts and he felt a surge of happiness that made him grin and sputter a giggle. What had he been thinking about? His brow creased in a frown again as he tried to remember what had been wrong. Another poke. Derrick giggled again, waving his arms and legs as drool ran down the side of his cheek. This time his mind remained ins a state of curious happy confusion - he was fascinated by the world around him even if he couldn't make any connections to memories now floating just out of reach.
Hebe poked his tummy a couple of more times, then hefted him up and carried him out to Reception. "Put this one in the Day Care pavilion. He can stay there for the next two weeks - unless we get a call for a ginger baby."
The Receptionist took Derrick, chuckling at his happy expression. "I expect we'll be sending him on with new parents long before the 'vacation' ends."
Hebe grinned. "He's locked in so whoever takes him home has a happy baby as long as they want. It may be a few hundred years before you grow up again, my fine little Scottish lad."