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—Alright boyo, just slide down this slide here and you'll meet your auntie on the other side—chimed the receptionist, showing Tony to one of four low openings leading off from the lobby. It was pink, the other three were green, blue, and yellow. It continued in a sloping and winding tube brightly lit with pink lights. He gave himself a push and slid down.

The receptionist did say auntie, but Mary was actually Tony's cousin. She was five years his senior, and the two were very close. He only had two younger brothers, so he kind of liked being the little bro for a change. He spent weeks at her home every summer, and this time around she insisted that they visit Pinocchio's, the new funpark and spa in town.

It was comparatively small, built in place of the old open-air bath where they spent quite a lot of time the previous years. There was a small queue at the entrance, and only girls were standing around with boys their age or slightly younger. Unlike what Tony was used to in funparks, the gate didn't lead straight to the park, but to a closed lobby. After a while they were let in, where a cute redhead was waiting for them at the reception.

She handed a form to Mary which she quickly filled out, and paid to the redhead. Then the receptionist showed Tony to the slide. Sliding down, he heard the receptionist tell Mary what a cute little boy he was, and he'd turn out just right. With all the weirdness, the slide was fun, long and with lots of curves. Finally, he arrived on a large air cushion in a brightly lit room full of huge balls and plush toys.

—Hello sweetkins.—The voice belonged to a girl clown, freakishly tall and with a red ball nose and pink ragdoll hair.—I see it's your first time here, so you must wonder what is up.—Meanwhile, Tony tried to crawl off the cushion, which seemed like a harder task than he anticipated, as it was too soft and deep.—This park is called Pinocchio's because we specialize in cute-ifying little boys.
The clown huddled down, facing the boy as he was trying to crawl off one end, and reaching under his armpits, lifted him off and sat him down on the edge of the cushion.—You know, as boys get big, like ten, eleven years old, and become more and more self-conscious, sisters and aunties and sitters start to miss having their little pinocchios all to themselves. So here we make little boys the little pet puppets for their sisters and aunties and babysitters to play with.
Tony started to look scared, but the clown patted him on his head—don't worry sweetie, it's just for while you are here. You'll see you will have lots of fun!

Five tall and chubby girls walked into the room, and the clown asked Tony to choose whom he would like to change him. A very fat blonde, maybe around fifteen-seventeen years old, made a funny kissy face at him, which he took as a sign of affection, so scared as he was, he walked over to the girl.

—Hehee… Such a sweetie. Get ready to be the cutest little one ever for your auntie—she sing-songed, tapping his head.
—I'm nurse Lizzie, by the way. Nice to meet you Toncy.
She took his hand assertively, and walked him to a colorful, oversized baby stroller in the corner of the room, as the other girls left, some of them apparently disappointed.

—Did Mary want me to be turned into a little kid?—he asked in the most mature and go-with-the-flow tone he could muster.
—Just a minute, punkin—she replied, fiddling with the pink-and-green contraption before motioning him to sit down in it. Sitting back, he fell backwards into the soft cushiony stroller, losing his footing. It felt very deep, as if he was suspended in a hammock.
Lizzie then proceeded to pull both his hands through sleeves in the intricate fabric layers of the pram, strapping his wrists down. Both his hands were now resting on large, soft rubbery grips that felt really good to squeeze and mush around.
The clown came over too, lifted up a metal frame from the front of the stroller with two plastic footrests, and taking each of Tony's feet, took off his shoes, tickled his feet briefly, and sheathed them through the textile of the stroller, strapping his legs to the frame.
After she was done, she raised the frame up high, eventually suspending Tony's feet higher than his head, and raising the front of the "hammock" up, making the boy feel as if he was sitting at the bottom of a sack.

—All done and ready for processing—Lizzie chirped, taking a sheet of paper from a table at the wall.—So no punkin, your auntie doesn't want you to be a little kid—the girl said, looking over the sheet.—She wants you to be her silly little infant pet to spoon feed and tickle and change. Hm… let me see.  Crybaby… Ticklish… Oral stage… Messy and drooly… Speech level: babble… You're in for a tour sweetiepie—she sing-songed, pinching his cheeks together in a matronly manner.
The clown waved Tony bye-bye as he was pushed out of the room, and through a long and sterile corridor. Lizzie kept making faces at him and teasing him about how cute he'd be and how he'd no longer understand speech when she was done with him.

Eventually they arrived in another colorful room. Tony could hardly make out details, as the raised hammock was obstructing his vision, but he caught a glimpse of a large metal box, and heard a boy's voice trying to sing the Dora the Explorer theme with an awful lisp, no sense of rhythm and audibly with a huge amount of added saliva.

—Aw how cute!—Lizzie gushed. Another girl appeared in Tony's field of vision, slightly slimmer than Lizzie, but still very tall. She gave Lizzie two kisses on the cheeks and whispered something to her before turning to Tony.
—Hullo there little one. Hear what a great singer my sweet Jimjims is? Soon you'll be just as good as him… Oh…—she said with feigned surprise and disappointment, looking at the sheet Lizzie was holding up.—Too bad, you're going to be far too little to sing. Jimjims is almost a year older than you sweetie. You'll babble instead and scream and cry, and blow raspberries, and put everything in your silly little mouth to chew… Well see you, gotta take my Jimjims to his little sis… I mean big sister.

The singing grew distant, as the other boy was wheeled out of the room. Tony was pushed toward the metal box, which to Tony looked to be a large stainless steel doorway with a curtain on it.

In fact it was a large machine developed to cute-ify boys, fashioned like a corridor with a conveyor belt to take the strollers through. Lizzie set Tony on the conveyor, assuring him that there is nothing to be afraid of, and after making a few settings on a computer console, turned the machine on.

A minute after the stroller disappeared in the machine's belly, it reappeared at the other end. Tony himself, outward, was still his twelve year old self, but the clothes he previously had on were gone, replaced by a diaper and knee socks with Dora the Explorer on them. A pacifier was resting on the boy's tummy.

—Ah… Where am I? I don't feel too good, let me go home!—he called out in an uncertain tone. His face was uneasy, and he was making rhythmical grunting noises with his hands squeezing down the rubber grips repeatedly in rhythm.
Lizzie leaned over the boy, took the pacifier, and waved it in front of his face.
—Shoo-shoo, babykins, I know what you want. You want to say goo-gah! Aren't you just dying to finally say goo-gah like the baby pet you are?—she asked in a syrupy tone.
—Say? Noo! No baby, I wan' ghome… Tonnynofeel… me nofeelg… guh… Guh! Goo-gah! Goo! Gah! Goo! Goo! GaBaBaBaGooGah! BuhgaBooGoooGaaa! Brfffffttt! Gaaaaeeee!—the boy gushed, babbling and blowing raspberries, smiling at Lizzie, who kept throwing air-kisses at him, and making funny faces.

Then, she lowered the boy's feet, returning him to a half-sitting position, and continued to talk baby talk and make funny faces at him, tickling his sides and feet. She unstrapped his hands, and pulled them out of the sleeves, and he in turn flailed them about frantically with little motor control. He reached for the pacifier, which Lizzie gave to him. After two failed attempts, once almost pushing it up his nose, he managed to get it into his mouth, and started to noisily nurse on it.

Another girl arrived in the room with a boy suspended in a similar stroller.—Did you hear that darling? Soon you'll be just like that too!—she said, prompting the new boy to start hysterically repeating "no, no, no, no, noo!"

—Ah a cranky one…—observed Lizzie.—Let's not keep you around, you might catch the crankiness—she said to Tony, whose eyes were actually starting to well up with tears. The girl made a couple of weird faces at him, keeping him from breaking out crying.—Ready to meet your Auntie Mary? I'm sure she can't wait to play with her pet puppet pinocchio! Yes that's what you are!—sing-songed the girl, pushing Tony toward the gate that led into the park.
"Preteen fantasies" is a collection of dreams and presexual fantasies I had as a kid, from 4 years to 13 years of age. Revamped of course as a proper story, but the original theme and feel unchanged.
Most of them will have to do with stage magic, hypnosis, transformation, and various Roald Dahlian weirdnesses.
They contain actual dream logic, and aren't meant to be dark or thought-provoking, but read accordingly, of course they can be that. I prefer to think of them as something like weird Saturday morning cartoons though, set in a happy go lucky, no-consequences universe.
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