Brandon was crying at the top of his lungs.
It wasn’t FAIR! Rick was the one who had been messing around recklessly with the chemicals; he should be the one who got shrunk! But no, he got to be eighteen again, and able to hit on Kim—and … and Kim liked him, and … and …
And he was a BABY! He was a little crawling doll that could be picked up and held by his own girlfriend—and he had to look on helplessly while Rick hit on his girlfriend.
In fact, for the next few years, he had to watch helplessly as Kim went out on dates without him—or came to babysit him. The girl he was going to have sex with, would pick him up, put him in her lap, bottlefeed him, bathe him in the sink …
And then Rick would come over, and … and …
Brandon bawled.
“What do we do? What do we DO?” Kim wailed, her voice threatening to break.
Rick shot a look around. The thought that his adopted son might be frightened and upset was of little concern to him—Brandon had always been antagonistic towards him—but the bawling baby and the bawling girl threatened to draw unwanted attention. Fortunately, there was nobody nearby at the moment. But that was sure to change—particularly if little miss Kimmy kept shrieking at the top of her lungs to accompany the bawling Brandon. And if anyone approached, he didn’t trust Kim to have the presence of mind not to start babbling about Brandon’s suddenly shrinking into a baby. The last thing they needed was to be drawing attention.
“Look, why don’t you make yourself …” Rick stopped, swallowed, breathed in and out a few times to calm himself. He reminded himself that, just minutes ago, he had been hitting on Kim, that Kim was hot. He had been so focused on her gorgeous body that he had forgotten that, unlike him, she was really a teenager, in mind as well as body—an immature, bratty teen, if his stepson was any indication of the general weal of the age group.
“Well, pick him up, and … hold him, or rock him, or something, I don’t know.”
“ME?” she asked incredulously.
“Well, you’ve babysat kids before, right?” She nodded dumbly. “Well, do whatever you did with them. Besides, he’s your boyfriend.” Not for very much longer, Rick suspected, if Brandon stayed a diaper moppet.
“But …” she began to protest.
“Look, I’l see if I can scare up some baby supplies—diapers, baby bottles, formula, that kind of thing. You take care of Brandon.”
“Wait a minute. Supplies?” Kim cried. “You mean he’s—he’s going to STAY like this?!”
With great difficulty, Rick managed to control his temper. How could a girl with such a gorgeous body be such an annoying pain? He could hardly believe that he had found her attractive—and that, even now, there was still some attraction to her. He truly hoped he hadn’t been this whiny himself when he had really been this young. But, then, after all, she was a girl, which probably made all the difference.
“I don’t know—and neither do you. We have no way of knowing—so we have to prepare for the least pleasant outcome.” Rick spoke slowly and carefully, as if explaining things to a dull child.
He went back into the house, with the intention of sneaking into his wife’s purse for the money to buy the baby supplies—he certainly had no intention of spending his own money on the stepson who made his life a living hell …
He did a figurative double-take. Step-son? Wife? More like mother—he was a teenager about to swipe money from her purse when she wasn’t looking, after all.
That set a new chain of thought into motion. What was Jessica going to do when she found out about this? Her “husband” had been reduced to a teenager. A forty-something woman walking around with a teenager on her arm … Not to mention a woman pushing fifty suddenly having to raise her own son up from infancy again.
He pursed his lips. He was definitely going to have to think of something …
Or, quite possibly, do something …