The Terminal Switch - teen to toddler

[tom]

Hi everyone. Here's a story I've been working on recently. It's in it's early stages, but hope you like it, I'll update it ASAP. Its my first *b/dl related story so any comments and suggestions will be much appreciated, thanks.

(Side note: yey! My 100th post!)

The Terminal Switch Teen to Toddler

Prologue

I'm hungry, tired, warm and wet. As I open my eyes, a warm friendly, fury face beams down from above. What should I do? Who knows where I am? Do I even know where I am? Come to think of it...do I even know who I am?

Introduction

Hi there, I'm Jack, 16 years old from Enlingfield Upper, and an only child. Today, should, in theory, be a good day. Exams are over, the sun is shining and in a few hours I'll be on a plane to Turkey for two weeks lying on the beach, a coke in hand, and no worries in the world.

'Jack!' screeches my mum from downstairs ' you better be packed, you've get 25 minutes before we leave'. Aawwww, what a lovely way to be greeted in the morning. I decide not to justify the question with a reply, as I, of course, have packed. My clothes, magazines, PSP, beach towel, sun cream, wash bag, the whole shabang, including of course my trusty plushie, Ralphie: a golden Labrador. Ralphie and I have been together from day one, 16 years ago, and he's always stuck by my side through think and thin. Now of course Ralphie's looking a bit worse for wear, but this is only evidence for our long life together. Well, there's always some things you don't grow out of.

'Jack!, it's time to go!' shouts mum. Dad, who hates mum's screeching every bit as I do responds: 'Lower your voice July, you're giving me a headache' ...and so, the family holiday begins.


Chapter 1

Mum - 'Wakey wakey rise and shine'
Me - 'ey?'
Dad - 'its time for the flight'
Me - 'the time for the flight was 10 hours ago'
Dad - 'someone woke up on the wrong side of the terminal'

Here's an update: Right now I'm supposed to be in Turkey, on a nice relaxing holiday. Instead, due to a 10 hour flight delay, I'm lying on the floor of Heathrow terminal 2. As I look down, I find it quite un-imaginable how I even allowed myself to touch this floor, this dirt ridden tiled floor, so dirty in fact that all the rodents have given it a pass, preferring the dumpster as a better living environment due to its greater cleanliness. Anyway, I digress. After deciding it would be best to look up from the floor, I cast my eyes around the terminal. Lines of of stranded passengers, hundreds of them,most angry looking, and half asleep stretch the length of the terminal. My eyes drift over to a boy, aged I'd say...about 3..he's sleeping..cuddled in the arms of his mother..looking rather warm, cozy and content in his footsie.....with Tigger on..ahhh....I used to love Tigger and pooh. It reminds me of my childhood: the security of your parents always there to help you, to keep you warm and safe, clean and fed. As I compare his warmth to my coldness...and his contentedness to my tiredness and uncomfortable lying position, I close my eyes, and wish, just for a second, that I was that toddler, warm and untroubled.

-------
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! After a short closure, I re-open my eyes, and, mysteriously appeared to have moved position. More disturbingly, I'm looking back across the room at my family, and on the floor, myself. 'What's the matter honey', a face looks down at me, a kind face... 'you must of had a nightmare..calm down..go back to sleep'. 'Where am I' I scream; interestingly it is not my voice that I hear, but a rather more high pitched one, one which is less able to pronounce words correctly. 'We're just in the airport honey...we'll be getting on the zoom zoom plane soon, won't that be fun?' .... uncontrollably I start to cry....what's happening?' A new warmth spreads through the lower portion of my body...I'm peeing myself...'what?! what?! what's going on?!' , 'ahh honey, don't worry, you're just scared. must of had a horrible dream....we'll go change you quickly...keep calm'

I'm rapidly swept of my feet and carried in the arms if this...mother....as she runs around frantically trying to find the toilets with me, dripping wet, in her arms, poor woman. Poor woman?! Poor Woman ?! , I don't give a damn about this woman, what am I thinking! What about me! A few minutes ago I was about to board a plan for a holiday in Turkey, and now I'm in the body of a toddler, I've just relieved myself in my undies and I'm being carried around my a strange woman who thinks I'm her son.

------------------end of chapter 1 ----------------------------------------

Chapter 2

Let me update you. I am currently lying on a plastic baby changing table extending out from the wall and to make matters worse I'm in the ladies' toilets. I have concluded that this, the changing table, is in fact, the most uncomfortable thing ever made by man, and if I was a a baby who had to use these atrocious pieces of bad craftsmanship, I would also cry every two minutes. Whilst I'm still wet, and fully clothed, my apparent 'mother' is searching for something in her over-sized travel bag down at the end of the table. I take this short gap in events to use all my brain power to come up with an explanation for this mad series of events. It of course is simple, I decide that I am in fact only dreaming. Despite the fact that this is the most realistic dream ..(no, let me correct myself, nightmare) that I've ever had the misfortune to have, that is the only explanation...I hope. And so, with doubt, I conclude, I only have to wait until I wake up from this dream.

'Come on then Jack, lets get you all dried up and cozy again' .I take the reason for the toddlers name being Jack as a mere coincidence, and one of those crazy things that happens in a dream. She unzips my sodden sleeper and lifts me out. Now I'm standing on the table in nothing but my wet undies (which by the way are pretty cool, Thomas the Tank Engine patterns! What more could you want?) and in comes the hottest girl on earth...aged about 20, damn, how embarrassing. She smiles politely at pat and gives me an enthusiastic wave..'Are you alright there, need a hand?', you says with a friendly tone to Pat (I have decided to call the mother Pat, as I have no other name for her). 'Aa yeah, every thing's alright here thanks, you just had a little accident didn't you Jack?' she says looking back at me. I don't reply and look down with a frown and a blush as Pat continues talking to the girl 'don't worry about it, I can deal with it I think, thanks again though'.

She looks back at me, 'don't worry sweety, everyone has accidents sometimes' ...as I gear up to have an argument with her, I respond uncontrollably, and in the only way that feels natural: 'Waaaaaaaaaaaa' (yes, by crying) 'waaaaa...no they don't, I'm a big boy'. Well, that wasn't quite how I had intended to express my thoughts, but that's how, in my toddler state, it came out. 'Sweety, calm down, it doesn't matter, you're doing really well, you haven't had an accident for a few days! That's excellent! You're getting the hang of it, and I bet in a week or two you'll be all dry, ok? Now look, I'm just going to put you in a pullup just for the plane journey, just as a precaution, because it will be tricky to change you on the plane. But I still want you to tell me if you need to go, like the big boy you are, ok? . I reply with a frank, 'no' .....'i don't want to wear a nappy'. 'Excellent' says Pat, clearly ignoring what I had said. She reaches down to the bottom of the table to take out the pullup from out of the top of her bag, a pampers baby dry I believe. Pat pulls down my undies, dries me with a towel from her bag and pulls up the pullup, as I whimper the whole way through. The feeling of a nappy is an interesting one, soft and cosy, yet extends much too far up my waist and down my legs than to my liking, and the added weight is not invited. All I have to say to this is a huff and a puff. 'Lie down for me quickly, there's a good boy', I, dazed by the new experience obediently obey, with a quick thought of how I will get my revenge for the patronizing tone. She then pulls out a clean sleeper from her bag (wow, women think of everything!) ,slips it on me, zips it up, and we're done. 'Come on then, hold my hand and let's go and find daddy'. I stand, and attempt to walk with this new addition to my attire, it's certainly not easy, the bulk between my leg restricts my movement, and its clear that this nappy is not intended for active babies. There is of course only one thing for this: I let out a whale, and through the whimpers I say 'I can't walk in this, get it off!, get it off!'. With one swoop of her arms, and little acknowledgment to my plea, Pat scoops me up into her arms and walks on, I appear to be getting the silent treatment.

Now, face to face with Pat, I take a look at this woman who is holding me, with her brown, shoulder length hair, blue eyes, and petite figure, she reminds me of my mum...just younger, in her late 20s. In fact, she is rather attractive, and as I cast my eyes over her, I notice something rather familiar, just to the bottom of her left ear lies a small, yet un-unmissable birth mark...where I have seen it before, I cannot remember. I ponder over this for a while until the cute little patterns of dogs around the sleeper catch my eye and keep me amused for the remainder of my journey in Pat's arms; they're bright green and blue dogs you know, my favorite colors..

'July, July, over here!' , calls a man standing by one of the check in desks. Pat, or who I now know to be called July, walks over towards him, smiling. The man, about the same age as July, brown haired and blue eyed gives me a nice smile and a pat on the head. He would appear to be 'daddy' as July had put it. Yet, behind 'daddy's' head I notice something rather more disturbing, in the place where I, in my original form as a 16 year old boy, was once lying, no more than 15 minutes ago, was...no-one. I was no longer there and neither were my parents. They must have boarded the plane. Without me. I am rather dazed by all that has happened, is it a dream? Perhaps, but then perhaps that is wishful thinking...tears well up in my eyes........ 'mommy mommy, come back!'.

--------------------end of chapter 2--------------------------------------


Thanks for reading!

[Kenshin Himura]

Not bad man. Good for a first attempt at a story, keep it up.

[Martin]

I see you lengthened them up. Good work, keep up the good work.

[tom]

Thanks for your comments guys

[Craig]

Brilliant story Tom! Well done, cant wait for the next chapter

[Lee Iero]

interesting

[Fire2box]

I like it so far I hope he gets back to his real body/parents. Personally I can't wait to see how the toddler is reacting if he got put in the body of a 16 year old. It might also be like MirrorMask where the other person wants the other persons body/world. Either way keep up the good work

[James]

Thats a nice story! Hopefully more is soon to come.

[tom]

Thanks , I hope to post the next chapter tomorow.

[tom]

Hi, here is the next chapter. Hope everybody likes it. I know there can be improvements, but see what you think.


Chapter 3

I awake in the lap of July; it would appear that toddlers get tired easily. I look forwards, only to see the back of a chair. Damn! We're on the plane. My heart races. I'm on a plane bound for ...well, I don't know where we're heading...and I have no way of getting back to my real parents. Taking deep breaths, I manage to calm myself down...of course, I had already agreed with myself, 'THIS IS A DREAM' – I state this to myself over and over again under my breath. 'Well hello sleepy heady', July looks down from above. 'Hi mommy' I reply. I couldn't stop myself, I knew that she wasn't my mommy, but it just seemed...'right'. Before I have time to think anymore about it, the plane's engines begin. This means take off is soon, and I'm not good with take off, it usually involves a clenched stomach and projectile vomiting. 'Right, lets get you buckled up in your chair, the plane's about to take off' , she says whiles picking me up and positioning me on the seat nearest the ailse, next to hers. I must admit, the seat on a airplane never felt so comfortable, with my nappy cushioning my backside. July straps the seat belt around me as I sit back on my chair in suspense. I hope that perhaps in this new body, take off won't have such a bad result on me. The engines get louder, the steps are removed away from the side of the plane, and it begins to turn towards the runway. The suspense kills me. I count down, 3, 2,1, the plane starts off , fast, then faster then faster, July puts her hand on mine, she can clearly tell I'm not too fond of take-offs ;perhaps the purple face is a give away. And we're off, we tilt vertically, my stomach clenches, my face gets purpler and my eyes close tight. As July's hand gets tighter, for now, I am comforted. The plane swerves to the left in that horrible motion that planes do, the ones that make your stomach sink and feel as if its falling out of your body. My stomach clenches more, my eyes get even tighter, all other thoughts leave my mind and then.......an uncomfortable warmth begins to surround my lower half. It doesn't take long to realize that this isn't like before...this is rather less fluid. As I sit in my mess, with a face of now red and purple, I realise how hard this control business is for a toddler, as it would appear that one must concentrate to avoid these accidents. I just sit there for a while, the engines roaring in my ear, July squeezing my hand, and me telling myself that I wouldn't ever let that happen again.

It was a few minutes before we were flying horizontally again. I now had to decide what to do, do I tell July? Or do I just get up to the bathroom and change myself...this was so embarrassing. Before I have time to decide July un-clenches her hand.'Something smells' she announces and with one of those patronizing accusing faces she looks down at me; you know the ones, like when you're younger and a teacher's trying to get you to own up to something which you protest, falsely, that you didn't do. 'Is there something you want to tell mommy Jack?...have you gone doody?'. I reply with a short and sharp 'No', looking as far away from her face as possible. 'Well someone has and it certainly wasn't me or daddy.' . I continue to look away and without any warning she pulls the back of my trousers and nappy back a bit and has a look see inside. How very dare she! I pull away from her instantly with aggression. 'Jack...I thought we had this sorted' (again with the patronizing tone), 'I wasn't planing for an accident like this, come on, we'll have to go to the toilets.' With a sigh and look towards 'daddy' she mutters 'this is going to be a bit tricky', only to realize that 'daddy' fell asleep ages ago. 'Come on then' she says taking my hand. 'No' I reply, 'I'll go on my own'. 'Don't be silly' she says, and with that she swiftly takes my wrist and pulls me out of my seat.

Now, in case you are unaware, the toilet on a Boeing 737 is rather small, and trying to fit two people in there isn't the easiest task in the world. So here I am, squished inside the toilet with July, and with a queue of about 3 people waiting outside. July bends down and looks at me, we're eye to eye, with a smiley look of understanding on her face and an embarrassed and sullen expression on mine. 'Now look sweetie, mummy didn't mean to get angry, I know you find it hard. But you've really got to try, like we agreed, OK? . I'm not amused, still finding it hard to come to terms with the events that have happened today, I'm confused, in shock and tired. I start to cry uncontrollably, tears streaming from my face...I cannot stop now I'm off. 'Baby don't cry'. 'Don't call me a baby!' I scream. 'Honey, whats the matter, this isn't like you to be all grumpy, come on baby lets get you sorted.' Too upset to argue, I let her do what needs to be done. I don't take much notice, I have more important things on my mind, I need to get back to....well... to me.

I waddle back down the isle, freshly diapered, with July in hand. It's interesting to see the view you get through a toddler's eye height: I see nobodies' head, just the sides of seats. I look up and down the isle as I waddle, not paying much attention in my sullen state. Up and down, up and down...suddenly, something grabs my attention: To the side of one of the seats, about three rows from the back end of the plane sits a yellow bag..my yellow bag. It has the same badges on, and even my name ,'Jack Hinefield', plastered across the front in black marker pen – my mum had wrote it on there a couple of years back for a school trip. This must mean only one thing, my body and my parents are sitting in the seats next to that bag. I quickly pull my hand away from July's and start to run towards them, unsure how it will help the situation and how it will get me back to my body-what do I do? Run up to my parents and say 'Mum, its me, Jack, this person in my body's an imposter, please give me my body back' – yeah, I'm sure that would work. But, despite this I continue to run, well, more of a fast waddle, down the isle. 'Stop right there young man!' July shouts as she grabs my wrist just two rows away from my target. 'What do you think you're doing?!'. I try and think quickly, what can I do? I need to get to my parents. I think about what a toddler would do if he didn't want to have to move. Got it! ..I plonk myself with a thud down on the cabin floor, letting my body flop down, playing dead, to create maximum difficulty for July. 'Get up now!'. I continue playing dead. By now all the passengers at the back end of the plane have noticed the scene, and are looking round at July and myself lying on the floor. A face peers down at me, its my face, looking back at me. The imposter in my body gives me a sly smile, a wave, and then leans back round into his chair, out of my sight. In shock I scream ' Hey! Come back! Mum! Dad! Help me! I'm here, I'm Jack! '. As I continue to scream this over and over again, July looks down at me in worried confusion. She kneels down beside me and picks me up into her arms. 'Shhsh.sweety...shssh now....you obviously have a fever baby, that explains the accidents..you're just a bit confused. Don't worry honey, we'll get you lying down...you'll be better soon, mommy and daddy are here.' As she walks back to our seats, stroking my hair, I rest my head on her shoulder. I have no energy left, I don't understand anything. I desperately try and think of a last effort attempt...thinking..thinking...thinking. An idea! I'll just do what I did to get myself into this situation...I'll wish I was back in my body again. Then, if I fall asleep, when I wake up I'll be returned. I look back down the isle, focus on the tuff of hair that once belonged to me poking out from behind a seat, and whisper: ' I wish I was back in my body, I wish I was back in my body'. As I whisper this quietly to myself again and again, I close my eyes, and all I can do, as I sink into a sleep, is say the muffled words 'I wish' through my silent crying.