SHAVING FOAM
by Sebtomato (2002)
ONE
I was sitting with Charlotte at the kitchen table, enjoying a leisurely breakfast, when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and as expected, it was the courier from AR Products. I signed the receipt and the courier handed over three packages.
Charlotte and I had both been offered work as market researchers for a new company. Neither of us worked in marketing for our day jobs, but the AR Products said that was just what they wanted. People outside the industry, who could give honest and non-biased views about the products before they were unleashed (or not) on the general public.
Each set of testing would only take one day, and the pay was more than good enough to let us both take a day off work. I was better than Charlotte at lazing around, perfectly capable of staying in my bathrobe all day, while she was dressed and made-up already, before she'd even had her first cup of tea. But neither of us had a problem with being paid for trying out new stuff.
When we opened the packages, it appeared that the day would not be particularly exciting. We started with the two small ones. The first was a bottle of perfume, and I handed it to Charlotte.
'You can have that one,' I said. 'What's it called?'
'Magic Maman,' Charlotte replied. The bottle was cube-shaped, with plain black lettering. 'Not exactly Tommy Girl. Oh well, I'll give it a spray after breakfast.'
I opened the second package, to find a can of shaving foam. There was no design, just a plain white label saying 'AR Shaving Cream.' 'I guess that's mine, then,' I said, happy that I hadn't already shaved that morning.
Charlotte opened the third, and by far the largest, package. 'Oh,' she said, 'It's clothes...but I don't see how we can test them.' She unfolded the clothes to reveal a boy's primary school uniform: white polo neck, bright red sweatshirt, grey shorts and kneesocks, and black shoes. There was even a pair of white briefs to complete the set. 'Look, Richard, it's the local school one,' Charlotte said, pointing to the circular Parkdale Primary logo on the sweatshirt. 'They must have got their records wrong.'
'Just a little bit,' I said. 'Oh, well. I'll give them a call after I've had a shower. I'll try out the shaving foam, too.'
I went upstairs and took my shower, then shook the can of shaving foam and sprayed a white ball of it onto my hand. It seemed to fizz, almost crackle, and at first I was quite alarmed. But my hand didn't feel sore, so I spread the foam onto my stubble. The same fizzing sound, a fizzy sensation, I picked up the razor and looked into the mirror, and saw that I was getting shorter.
No, not shorter, smaller. I looked, astounded, at my shoulders and chest as they narrowed. And then, as I gazed at my face in the mirror I finally understood: I was getting younger.
The physical regression was swift, and I knew that I had to rinse off the shaving foam, before I was too short to reach the sink. I hurriedly splashed water onto my face, rubbing at my skin to remove every last trace of the foam. As soon as I'd done so, the fizzing stopped, and I felt youthening stop at the same time.
Breathing heavily, I walked over to the long mirror and shivered. The foam had taken twenty years off my life, leaving me as a nine year old. Shocked and afraid, I felt close to tears, but crying over my problem seemed like entirely the wrong road to go down. I didn't know if there would be any mental effects of the regression, but I decided that I should be very careful to act like an adult.
I made up my mind to go downstairs and tell Charlotte what had happened. I would do so calmly, somehow, so that she wouldn't been as scared as I initially had been. Yes, I would approach this problem in a collected, adult way, but that didn't stop me wrapping a towel around my waist, suddenly shy of revealing my body to my wife.
As I walked down the stairs, I could smell perfume, then I heard a gasp, and it occurred to me that I might find a much younger version of Charlotte that I had left.
I raced down the remaining stairs, holding the can of foam, my towel unwrapping and falling to the carpet.
'Lotty, put it down, put it...' I ran into the kitchen, but Charlotte looked just the same as she had done a few minutes before. There had been no regression, but the smell of the perfume lingered in the air.
TWO
Charlotte looked at me, lost for words.
'It's me,' I said, cringing at my high voice. 'I got smaller...I mean younger. It was the shaving foam.'
Charlotte blinked, she looked like she wanted to rub her eyes in amazement. Then she said, 'Wow. It's...wow.'
'I know,' I said. 'I thought you might end up the same way, I could smell the perfume. But you haven't changed.'
'No,' Charlotte said. 'At least I don't think so. I did feel a bit strange when I sprayed my wrist, but...wow, Richard, you look around ten years old.'
'Nine, Lotty. Nine on the button,' I replied, shuffling from one foot to the other. I was regretting leaving my towel on the stairs. 'There's a phone number, we'd better give the company a call, this is ridiculous. I went into the hall and picked up the foam and my towel.
Back in the kitchen, Charlotte had dialled the contact number for AR Products. 'Do you want to talk to them, or shall I?' she asked.
Perhaps shouting at the company rep would have made me feel better, but I felt strangely nervous about talking to him. It was as if I was scared of talking to a grown-up I didn't know on the telephone. 'You do it,' I said. Then, 'put it on speaker.'
Charlotte pressed the button and we listened; first to the ringing, then the pick-up and finally the hiss of a recorded message:
'Hi Richard, Hi Charlotte. I'm sure by now you've discovered that there's a little more to the market testing than I first let on. Don't panic, what's happening to you both is perfectly safe. You should treat the AR product as a day for having fun. Go out and make the most of it. I'll come by your place at seven, you can give me your feedback, and then your lives can get back to normal. Oh, and for not calling the police or notifying the media, you've multiplied your fee by ten. Have a nice day.'
Click. Charlotte hung up. 'So...'
'Ten times as much,' I said slowly. 'This is turning into a serious money-spinner. Strangest day of my life, but definitely a money-spinner.'
'But what did he mean, 'happening to you both'? Did he mean that I was going to get younger too, or maybe older, or did he just mean that I would be affected because of the change that's happened to you?'
I shrugged, forgetting about the phone bill that had slithered through the letterbox the day before, and concentrating on the delights sure to be on offer at Tower Records.
Charlotte smiled. 'At least we know what the school uniform is for. And you're going to look adorable in it.'
I folded my arms. 'I'm not going to school for the day, you can forget that.'
'Sure, Richard, but you need something to wear, we're not staying home all day. Let's go shopping, figure out what we're going to spend all that money on.' Charlotte picked up the polo shirt. 'Oh, hang on, this is for Age 7.' She held the shirt against my chest. 'Too small.' She seemed particularly disappointed.
'No big deal,' I said. 'Go and buy some clothes that'll fit me, I'll stay home.' I was rather relieved, not keen to wear the school uniform, and also wondering what was on TV.
But Charlotte had other ideas. 'Silly, all we have to do is use a little more of that shaving foam, then these clothes will be a perfect fit. ' She picked up the can.
'Hey, I don't want to be seven. I'm small enough as it is.'
Charlotte offered me the can. 'Oh, come on. Do you really want to spend a whole hour stuck at home when you could be out on the town? We can get some CDs, something like that.'
I took the can from her. It would be fun to get some new music. I thought of my existing CD collection, and found myself excited at the prospect of buying some more up to date music. 'Mum, can I get the new...' I tailed off, blushing furiously at my mistake.
Charlotte grinned. 'Don't worry, Richard. It's an understandable slip, considering what's happened. Now do as your 'Mum' says, honey.'
I held the can in my hands. I did feel that I should probably do as I was told. After all, she was my...well, mother for a day, it seemed. And looking up at her, I knew I could trust her.
'You won't let me get too small, right?' I asked. Ten years old was one thing, but I didn't want people thinking I was a little boy.
'No chance,' Charlotte replied, tearing off a sheet of kitchen towel. 'As soon as you get to the right age, I'll clean that foam right off ya.'
'Okay.' I shook the can a few times.
'Good boy,' Charlotte said, and although I was nervous about getting younger, I was found her big smile reassuring.
I sprayed a small ball of foam onto my hand, then put it onto my face. The fizzing seemed louder this time, and I gasped as the changes began.
'Wipe it off, it's too quick!'
'Don't panic, sweetie, I won't let it turn you into a baby,' Charlotte replied with a smile. 'Hang on...just a bit longer...'
'Please, Mum!'
'There,' Charlotte said, and wiped the foam off my face with the towel. Just like the first time, the fizzing died away almost instantly. 'Now lets get you dressed for the day, hmmm?'
Feeling tired from the further regression, I meekly allowed Charlotte to dress me, even though I'm definitely old enough to get dressed by myself. She put the white polo shirt over my head and pulled my arms through the short-sleeves, then got me to step into the white briefs and the grey short-pants. After that came the red Parkdale Primary sweatshirt, and finally I sat down so she could put on my grey kneesocks and shiny black shoes.
'There now,' Charlotte said, looking me up and down. 'Don't you look smart.'
'They feel baggy, Mum,' I said, although in truth I did feel rather smart.
'They're supposed to be a little loose, so little boys can grow into them. Now, where shall we go on our shopping trip? You still wanting to get some CDs?'
I shook my head. 'Can I get a new computer game?' Suddenly music CDs seemed boring.
Charlotte smiled. 'Sure you can, honey. And if you're a good little boy, we'll go to McDonalds for lunch.'
I grinned. 'Cool!' But then I paused. 'Umm, but I'm not really a little boy, remember?'
Charlotte frowned. 'Oh. Yes, of course. You know, it's funny, but I've been feeling a little foggy, ever since I tried that perfume.' She picked the bottle off the table. 'Such a lovely scent, though.' Charlotte sprayed some into the air, and the scent was very strong.
I blinked, feeling rather light-headed. What had we been talking about?
Charlotte bent down and tousled my hair. 'You do look like a little boy, of course. But it's okay, Ricky, I know you're not really seven years old. You're really a big boy, aren't you. You're really ten.'
I nodded emphatically. Ten was much, much older than seven.
Charlotte fetched her handbag and we left the house, Charlotte locking the door behind us. I felt the air on my bare knees, reminding me of what I was wearing. I probably should have felt self-conscious at wearing such juvenile clothing, but the prospect of visiting the game shop was proving a serious distraction. I forgot all about what I was wearing and didn't protest as Charlotte held my hand as we crossed the street and waited for the bus into town.
THREE
I sat down beside Mum on the bus, and an old lady turned around and smiled at me. 'Late for school?' she asks Mum.
Mum looked a bit worried, then said, 'Doctor's appointment. He's got a sore throat. We're going to pick up a prescription from Boots.'
The old lady nodded, satisfied. Then she started talking about the weather and other boring grown-up stuff, so I looked out the window and thought about computer games.
A few minutes later the bus arrived outside the shopping centre. We walked into the centre and go straight to Gamezone. I'd been meaning to get a sports computer game - maybe football or basketball - but then a Harry Potter game catches my eye. I decided that there' was something far more important I had to do than play a computer game, and I walked over to Mum.
'Mum?'
'Yes, Ricky?'
'Can we go and see Harry Potter?'
Mum smiled. 'Of course, if that's what you want. But I thought you didn't like Harry Potter.'
I shook my head. 'No way, it's really good. Everyone at school has seen it.'
'Then we'd better go see it, then,' Mum said. But then she frowned. 'But I don't think it's going to look very good if you go to the cinema during a weekday. They're going to wonder why you're not at school, just like the lady on the bus, remember?'
I didn't like the sound of this. I thought hard and tried to find an answer. 'Ummm. You could say we're on holiday. That's why I'm getting to watch Harry Potter.'
'Sorry, Ricky. It's all very well saying you're on holiday, but look at what you're wearing. No one will believe you're on holiday if you're wearing your school uniform.'
I frowned. Mum...was right, of course. 'But I really wanna see Harry Potter...'
Mum said, 'Well...I suppose there is one way you could get to see the film today...'
'How? How?' I asked hurriedly.
'You could put on some more of the special foam, and make yourself a little boy. Little boys don't go to school, do they? So you can see Harry Potter and there won't be any fuss.'
I grimaced. 'But I don't want to be a little boy.'
'It's just for a day, remember?' And it's the only way you'll get to see the film, Ricky.'
I thought this over for a few moments. Then I nodded. 'Okay,' I said. 'I'll do it.'
'Good boy. Now, we'd better find you some new clothes so you have something to wear in your new age.'
So we left Gamezone and went to the boys' clothes part of Marks and Spencer. I didn't like the look of the little boys clothes. I tugged on Mum's sleeve. 'They're so babyish, Mum, can't we go somewhere else?'
Mum shook her head. 'I don't think they look babyish at all, I'm sure you'll look very smart. Here, this is perfect.' And Mum picked out blue denim shortalls that came with it's own white t-shirt. 'See, nothing wrong with that, is there?'
I shrugged my shoulders. I was getting hungry, and my thoughts turned to the nearby McDonalds. 'I guess so.'
'That's good boy,' Mum said. And she put the shortall and T-shirt set in her basket, and then picked up some Teletubbies briefs, white socks and red sneakers.
Then we went to the Ladies toilet so Mum could use the foam on me. I was glad that Mum had brought the special foam with her. She was very clever for thinking we might need it again.
Mum was careful with the foam and made sure I didn't turn into a baby. She wiped the foam off my face as soon as I was three years old. She took off my school uniform and I put on my new clothes by myself, 'cause I'm not a baby. I wasn't happy about wearing my Teletubbies briefs but I knew I had to wear them if I wanted to watch Harry Potter, so I put them on. Then I put on my white socks and white T-shirt. My red sneakers had velcro straps so they were easy, but the shortall straps were stiff and I had to ask Mum to fasten them for me.
Mum picked me up so I could see myself in the mirror. 'Don't you look lovely.'
I groaned, seeing the design on the front of the shortalls for the first time. 'But Mum, it's got Bob the Builder on it, that's for babies. I don't want to wear this.'
'Hang on,' Mum replied. She sprayed a little of the AR Products perfume on her wrist, and smelled it. I couldn't help but smell it too, it was really strong.
I felt a bit foggy and confused, and I looked at myself in the mirror.
'Don't you like Bob the Builder, sweetie?' Mum's voice seemed far away, and as I looked at my round face, I realised that I didn't mind Bob the Builder so much after all.
'I wike him, Mummy,' I said quietly, suddenly keen to keep the shortalls on.
'I know you're not really a little boy, but you do look cute in your shortalls, and this way you get to watch your film, remember? You can watch the film and then tomorrow you'll be a big boy again, you'll be seven years old, and everything will be back to normal.'
I nodded. I did want to watch Harry Potter. 'Uh-huh. I'll be a big boy like Harry Potta.'
'That's right, sweetie. Ready to go?'
'Yeth, Mummy,' I said, and Mummy takes my hand and we walk over to McDonalds for lunch. I get a Happy Meal and as soon as I see the toy that comes with it, I know what I really want to see at the cinema.
'Mummy, can we go see the monsta film?'
Mummy looks at my toy, and the pictures on my cup. 'Monsters Inc? I thought you had your heart set on Harry Potter.'
But Harry Potter doesn't seem like fun any more. In fact, it sounds like it might be a big scary.
I shake my head. 'No, Mummy, I wanna see the monstas, I wanna see the monstas,' and I bounce in my chair for emphasis.
Mummy laughs. 'Okay, sweetie, Monsters Inc it is, then.'
FOUR
The film is really funny, and I really like the monsters. Mummy buys me a bag of sweeties and I got to choose them and everything and I got a big cup of juice, too and Mummy gets some popcorn But a bad thing happens, 'cause I have too much juice to drink and I forget to go potty and I make a tinkle in my pants. I'm laughing at something in the film when I realise that I've got wet pants.
I feel sure that Mummy will be angry with me when she finds out and may be she'll spank me. I don't like being spanked. I know that I shouldn't have tinkled in my pants 'cause I'm not really little, I'm really seven, I'm a big boy and I'm in Primary 2 at Parkdale Primary School. But my body is little today and I drank too much juice so I did a whoopsy.
Yes, I'm sure Mummy will be upset with me, because only babies tinkle in their pants, not big boys. But then I think that if I use the special foam and make myself a baby, then she won't be mad at me. I remember that I'll only be a baby for one sleeps, because tomorrow I'll change back into a big boy again, so I can be a baby for one day and that's okay.
It's good that Mummy brought the foam with her. I can see the can peeking out of her handbag. I ease the can out of the bag, really quiet so she won't notice. The can is big in my hands, but I put it between my legs and press down on the nozzle with both thumbs. Foam sprays onto my chest and lap, making a big mess.
Mummy turns to me in the dark and realises what I've done. 'No, Ricky, that's not a toy! Don't touch the foam.'
She grabs the can out of my hands but I giggle and scoop the foam out of my lap and onto my face.
'Ricky!' Mummy takes a paper napkin we got with the popcorn and wipes really fast at the foam on my hands and face, but it's too dark in the cinema room and she can't see all the foam. She says a bad word then picks me up and runs out of the room and through to the Ladies toilets. I can feel myself getting smaller as the foam makes my face and hands all fizzy. It feels all tickly and I giggle, but Mummy is mad at me.
She sits me down on a toilet seat and uses toilet paper to wipe the last few bits of foam off. 'Why'd you do that, Ricky? Only mummies can use the foam, you know that. That was very naughty.'
'Sowwy Mummy.' I look down at my hands, and I'm surprised at how small and pudgy they are.
'And look,' she says, ' taking off the shortalls and T-shirt which are already falling off me. 'You're soaking wet, too. It's a good thing this foam only lasts a day, the last thing I want to do is to go back to changing your nappies.
'Yeth, Mummy', I said quietly, trying not to start crying. 'I made a tinkle, but it was an a-kident.'
Mummy sighed. 'I know, sweetie, it's not you're fault, but tomorrow when you're a big boy again I don't want you making any more accidents, okay?. Now, we'd better get you cleaned up and in some proper clothes.'
Mummy wraps me up in her jacket and we leave the cinema and go to the Boots shop. People give me funny looks 'cause I'm not wearing proper clothes but Mummy just ignores them. She buys me red sleepers with Pooh on them and a pack of nappies and a yellow dummy.
Then we go to another Ladies toilet and Mummy dresses me in my nappy and red Pooh sleepers, and clips the dummy onto the sleepers. Mummy offers me the dummy but I shake my head. I laugh at the crinkly sound the diaper makes. I know that I'm not really a baby, but it's funny to pretend.
'Oh Ricky,' says Mummy, 'You can't be more than nine months old! I'll be glad when it's tomorrow and you've changed back to your normal age. I think we'd get some strange looks if we went to nursery tomorrow and you were just a little baby, hmmm?'
'Yes Mummy. I'm weally a big boy.'
'Yes you are, honey, you're really three years old, and tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal, thank goodness. Now, let's go home.'
And Mummy picks up her handbag and picks me up too, and she turns to walk out or the Ladies toilet when the bottle of perfume slips out of Mummy's handbag and falls to the floor with a big smash.
There's a really big smell and it gets difficult to see and breathe, and I have a big cough. When I can see again, I see Mummy giving me a big smile.
'There's my good baby boy, oh yes, there you are!'
Things are getting all fuzzy. Mummy puts the dummy in my mouth and carries me out of the bathroom. I look over her shoulder, and look around, and I realise that so many of the words I used to know have gone away.
This is a bad thing, and I want to tell my mummy what's happened. I try to say big words but all that comes out is silly baby talk, muffled by the dummy. 'Ba-ba, muh-muh.'
'That's right, sweetie,' Mummy says, 'Time to go home.' She walks out of the store and towards the bus stop, and she says some more things that I don't understand. It's warm on the bus and mummy rubs my back and tells me stories and I go night-night.
FIVE
Not long after Charlotte and Ricky arrive home, the rep from AR Products, Mr Fisher, knocks on the door. He's keen to ask how the day has gone, but as soon as he sees the baby boy sitting on the living room floor, he sighs.
'So, I won't get Richard's feedback until tomorrow. I can see that he has regressed a lot more than we anticipated. He was only supposed to try the foam once, looks like he got carried away. Never mind. By tomorrow, he'll be back to normal.'
Charlotte says, 'Sorry? What foam? And how do you mean, back to normal?'
Mr Fisher blinks. 'Well...I...back to his proper age. You know?'
Charlotte shakes her head. 'Ricky's just a baby, he's nine months old. What other 'proper' age could he have?'
Mr Fisher sighs. 'How much perfume did you...ah, test, Charlotte?'
'Oh,' Charlotte replies, and blushes. 'I'm afraid I dropped the bottle, it broke on the floor, big mess. You didn't need it back, did you?'
'No, no,' Mr Fisher says quickly, 'that's quite all right. I'm clear on what's happened. It's an unfortunate chain of events, I mean, you were both only supposed to try the products once...but Richard...I mean, Ricky,' and Mr Fisher looks down at the baby, who gazes open-mouthed back at him, drool running down his chin and landing on the chest of his red sleeper. Then Ricky claps his hands together and giggles at the noise.
'Well, Ricky...' Mr Fisher continues, 'Ricky seems happy enough. There's been too much regression to change him back now, it's too risky. Besides, by using all the perfume like that, it freezed thigns, whatever age the subject is, and...well, I know you don't understand any of this and that's probably just as well.'
Charlotte shakes her head. 'What's wrong, do you think there's something wrong with my baby?'
'No,' Mr Fisher replies, 'he's a bouncing baby boy, right enough. Charlotte, this is what I'm going to do. To...ah, thank you for the market testing - 'cause you've done a great job - I'm going to have the company send over a complete range of baby clothes and products tomorrow morning. A complete set, everything you could need. 'Cause I get the feeling you're running short of a few things.'
Charlotte nods. 'Oh, that would be lovely. Ricky does need some new things. That's so generous, thank you.'
'Least I could do,' Mr Fisher says. 'Anyway, I'd better go. I'll leave the rest of the questions until tomorrow, let you enjoy your evening.' He gets up from the couch.
'Right,' Charlotte says. 'Thanks, I've been feeling a bit tired all day. Funny how a day off work will take it out of you.' She picks up Ricky and they follow Mr Fisher to the front door. 'Oh, but you didn't ask what I thought of the perfume.'
'Of course,' replied Mr Fisher distractedly. 'So...how was it?'
'Well, actually I thought it smelled like something my mother would wear. It was old fashioned, but nice. You'll think me strange but the best word I could think of was 'maternal'.'
Mr Fisher smiles in spite of himself. 'Not strange at all. In fact, I think you've hit the nail on the head. Good night, Charlotte.'
'Good night, Mr Fisher, safe journey.' Charlotte holds up Ricky's hand. 'Wave bye-bye to Mr Fisher, Ricky. Wave bye-bye.'
Ricky babbles excitedly and waves clumsily at the man, and then Charlotte takes her baby back inside.
THE END