Drake whimpered as he stared down at his new tiny, denuded form. Finding himself back in a grade-school body had been horrifying enough... now, he was little more than a baby. Drake couldn’t stop himself from fondling his immature little manhood in disbelief, his pudgy cheeks turning red. This was a nightmare! He needed to fix this, and quick.
“I wish I was ba’ to nowmal.” Drake said quickly, cringing at the high-pitched shrill his voice had become.
“So be it,” thundered Beldazarr, from high above him. The genie clapped his hands loudly.
Drake clamped his eyes shut as he was suddenly blinded by a bright light. Slowly he reopened his eyes, the stars in his vision fading. He was… back home… in his bedroom? Drake looked down to find his tiny hand clenching a small blue train that looked suspiciously like Charlie the Choo-Choo. Wait… tiny hand?
Drake stared dumbly down at his body with confusion and growing fear. Plump tummy… short, stumpy legs… pint-sized pee-pee peeking innocently from his groin… he was still a toddler! And still a naked toddler at that. “Hey!” he cried, looking accusingly up towards Beldazarr. “You were s’posed to make me big! Why am I still so wittle?”
“Incorrect, master.” Beldazarr replied, the corners of his lips turned upwards in a nearly imperceptible smile. “You wished to be normal. That is quite a significant difference.”
“Wha’ you mean? E’teen is nowmal – I’m not s’posed to be two!” Drake’s voice rose into a whine, frustrating the former teen all the more as he heard how childish sounded.
“Drake? Is that you, honey?” A loud, authoritative voice called. In a flash, Beldazarr disappeared, his lamp appearing into existence with a bright glimmer, before it clanked to the floor and rolled underneath the desk in a corner of the room.
“Drake? You in there?” the female voice called, a hint of worry detectible in her tone. Mom! Drake flinched, frozen in place. He couldn’t let her see him like this! Who knew how she would react to a naked preschooler in her home… one who looked disturbingly like her eldest son had many years before. Drake whirled towards the door, looking for somewhere to hide… or that’s what he intended to do. Drake soon realized that he’d overestimated his reduced body’s coordination. He wobbled unsteadily on his underdeveloped legs, waving short arms futilely as he struggled to maintain his balance. But it was no use, and he soon plopped clumsily onto his chubby rear.
It was too late for Drake to escape. Before he could move a muscle, the bedroom door was tossed open, and Drake found himself craning his neck upwards to stare at his mother, who now towered above him. Drake’s mounting alarm grew as he stared at his mother from his new perspective… a perspective he had never expected to have. She was so big.. or he was so little… and it was downright intimidating.
“Drake! There you are,” she said, taking no notice that her eldest, teenaged son had been reduced to toddlerhood. “What have I told you about playing in Jesse’s room? You know he doesn’t like you in here without him.” Drake’s bewildered mind could barely make sense of the words flowing from his mother’s mouth. His lower lip quivered wordlessly as he tried to deliver an appropriate response. Coming up with nothing, he tried to stand, but failed when his pudgy belly and uncoordinated limbs couldn’t manage it. He fell back awkwardly onto his uncovered little rump.
“And you’re naked! Again?” His mother huffed exasperatedly. “How many times have I told you – that does it, young man!” She grabbed him beneath his small arms and lifted him effortlessly into the air. Drake squeaked, terrified at being manhandled so easily. His mother placed one cold hand under his backside and cradled him against her shoulder as she walked towards the bed and sat down. She then spun him around, and placed Drake’s pint-sized body face down across her knee. “Ma’? Wha’ you doin’” In his panic, Drake struggled to form the words.
It was obvious, but in his stunned disbelief Drake didn’t want to believe it. “You’re too old to be a little jaybird now, Drake! I won’t enjoy spanking you, but maybe next time you’ll listen,” she said forcefully.
Drake’s eyes widened in horror as he finally realized what she intended. “NOOOO!” he wailed, squirming in his mother’s grasp as he tried to escape the ultimate humiliation. “No’ a baaaaby!” he shrieked, his voice rising into a shrill. But it was no use. His mother was simply too strong for him, and she kept him pinned easily as she raised her hand and brought it down with a resounding *SMACK* on his backside.
Drake’s wailing abruptly ceased as he gasped, sucking air into his diminished lungs at the sudden shock. *SMACK!* Drake’s rear was stinging painfully as his mother raised her hand again. She wasn’t hitting him very hard, but it hurt. *SMACK!* Drake sniffled, blinking back tears as he struggled to maintain his composure. Perhaps worse than the physical pain was his wounded pride… he was trapped in this incredibly degrading position, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was being spanked, like the baby he was. *SMACK!* The shame and humiliation were too much to bear, and Drake could hold back the waterworks no longer as juvenile emotions rose to match his infantile body. *SMACK!* “WAAAAAHHH!” Drake howled, bawling and kicking wildly as tears streamed freely down his face. *SMACK!*
Sensing he had enough, Drake’s mother stood the fussing toddler on his feet, where he teetered unsteadily. Drake sobbed uncontrollably, unable to rein in his volatile emotions even in the slightest. Drake, his nudity (and modesty) momentarily forgotten, rubbed at his beet-red little rump with both hands. The rest of his body slowly reddened to match his rear as he realized just how childish he looked, naked and bawling after a good spanking from his mother… which caused him to resume his crying all the louder.