"You can feel it now, can't you?" she said with a gentle smile. She held you as delicately as possible. Just the lightest touch of her fingertips ran at a deliberate pace up and down your shaft; back and forth from the tip, where she would squeeze it ever so softly before traveling down to do it all over again. "With every stroke," she continued, "you're getting just… a… little… bit… younger. Relax and let it happen. That's it. That's Mommy's good boy.
"Every time Mommy gets to the top and squeezes you, like that, just that little bit more of those mean adult thoughts, all those worries and responsibilities, melt away under Mommy's touch. Do you like that? Of course you do. I know that, deep down, you'd love nothing more than to be just a sweet little baby boy who needs his Mommy to take care of him."
Her hand moved up and down on your shaft in slow motion, back and forth, slowly but surely. Each time she reached the top, she squeezed, and the odd tingling sensation would spread throughout your body.
As impossible as it seemed, what she said was true. Your adult body was indeed gradually becoming softer, weaker, and smaller. Her touch was rolling back the clock of your biology. The thought was frightening, but it was impossible to be afraid in her presence. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling. An assurance, like a cloud, had settled over your mind.
"Do you like that, baby? Do you like Mommy's sweet, gentle touch?" She asked you. You nodded without hesitation, unable to speak. You couldn't even think about anything other than the hypnotic, regular motion of her fingers squeezing at the apex of your cock before traveling back down to do it all over again. The sensation, and the frisson of her voice, sent shivers through you, sending ripples out from your groin and throughout your entire body.
She continued talking, telling you how much she loved you and how happy she was to be there with you.
She smiled. "That's my good baby," she whispered lovingly. "Mommy loves you very much. You've been such a wonderful man. So smart, handsome, kind, but you don't want to be a man anymore, do you? No. You want to be Mommy's good little boy. And look, see how much smaller you are now? No, Mommy isn't getting taller, silly. Look closer, honey." And yet your mother's comforting warmth, her hand on your groin, still slowly stroking you, and her breath in your ear, seeped into you like warm honey.
She was offering you a return to the carefree days of childhood. It felt natural and right.
"Your job? Bills? Don't fret about any of those things. Good little boys don't have any of those to worry about. School? So you could meet and make friends all over again with children your own age? We can talk about that later. For now, just focus on spending all your time with Mommy.