I'd daydreamed about it often. Never more than that, since the whole thing was physically and metaphysically impossible.

But then it happened.

Just like I'd imagined it: I went to sleep one night, an adult man in the prime of life, and woke up in the pre-dawn hours...in the bed I spent my childhood in, in the same room I grew up in. I looked around the room, saw the door to my older brother's room, my little table, my white mouse scrabbling around in his cage, everything the way it had been, apparently. In my head was still all the knowledge and experience I had accumulated in my life and profession. How many times had I thought, "If I only knew then what I know now!" And now I did.

And, just as I had imagined it, I did NOT have the knowledge I would have had as a child. For instance, I couldn't remember most of my teachers' or my friends' names, what subjects we were studying in school, whether or not there was a test the next day...I didn't even know what day, month, or year it was!

I got out of bed and pelted up stairs, marveling at once at how light on my feet I felt, and how far apart the stair treads were! I padded over to my parents' bedroom door, eased it open and went to my Mom's bedside.

"Mom-Mom!" I shook her awake. "It's Carl. I gotta talk to you! Please, Mom!"

She came groggily awake, glancing at the bedside clock; it was 4 in the morning. "Carl? What about Carl-?" she stammered.

"Just come with me, Mom, please, we gotta talk, OK? Please?" I tugged at her hand and she came with me, pulling her robe around her. My dad just turned over and continued snoring.

We sat at the kitchen counter, and had the conversation I had imagined. Of course I didn't tell her exactly what it seemed to me had happened; I basically convinced her on the one hand that I was OK, and even improved in some ways, and on the other that I had some unexplained gaps in my memory, and was going to need some help the next day at school. But I insisted that I wanted to go; I didn't want her thinking I was trying to 'skip'. Even if there was a test, even though I didn't remember what we had been studying, I wanted to take it. I had no doubt that I would blow it away. I just needed to know my teachers' and friends' names, which room to go to, and so forth. Also what date it was. Turns out it was exactly as I had imagined it: I was ten years old.

I went back downstairs, realizing as I did, no surprise, that I had to go to the bathroom. My bedroom had one right off it and I ducked into it. I stood at the toilet and reached down...but I had no fly to open in my pajamas...because I wasn't wearing pajamas...I was wearing a nightgown! What was I wearing that for?! I slowly reached down and pulled the hem up...I almost passed out.

I was a girl!!

Even in my shock and surprise I couldn't help noticing: what a cute little girlcleft I had! Unfledged of course; I could even see my clitoris (!my clitoris!) poking out beyond the puffy lips of the vulva. There was no way I could resist: I started to caress her, I mean me (!). What a sensation: smooth, soft, so squeezable, just the way I imagined it in my hand. And at the same time feeling what it was like to be a little girl being caressed there! Very nice indeed, all though perhaps not the 'rapid response' a grown man feels from genital stimulation. Well I was only a little girl, after all! I even gave myself a quick 'front-spanking'...

I went ahead and sat down (!) to pee, sighing a bit at the sensation of the hot liquid pouring past my clitoris. I even remembered to wipe myself, like little girls are supposed to do.

As I got up it struck me: what was my name? It wasn't Carl, surely! Carlotta? I had to ask Mom.

I pelted back upstairs and shook her awake again. "Mom, Mom, I gotta ask you something again!"

"What is it, honey?" she replied sleepily.

"Um...what's my name?"

"Oh, honey," she said, reaching up and patting my cheek, "Don't you remember your own name?! You're my sweet little Rachel!"

I should have realized it; Mom never had a girl (except in this timeline/alternate reality/whatever it was, I guess she did!), but she always told my brother and me that if she'd had one, her name would be Rachel. Another thought struck me:

"I have a brother...don't I?" I asked.

"Yes, honey, of course you do. That's Carl," she replied.

I was stunned. I barely managed to think to ask, "H-how old is he?"

"Fifteen, honey. No go back to sleep. We'll figure all the rest of it out in the morning, OK?" She put her head back down on the pillow.

OK, so maybe it wasn't exactly the mulligan I had imagined. Apparently I was now my own little sister!

I managed to get back to sleep; my mind might have been racing, but a ten-year-old's body at 4 a.m. is ready for dreamland! The next few weeks went about like I imagined it: re-learning my way around school, teachers, friends (except now all my friends were the little girls I barely said two words to when I was a ten-year-old boy!); acing tests and impressing my teachers; trying to convince my parents to get me in touch with a copyright lawyer and frantically writing down every popular song from my childhood I could remember - presuming this life wasn't TOO different from before, we stood to do quite well from the royalties, eventually.

But all the while another thought was running through my head...

Finally an opportunity came. My parents had a lot of contacts through my father's profession, and my mom often went with him to conferences and such. One Saturday they took off to an all-day affair, leaving me in Carl's care, telling us all the information about where they were, phone numbers, etc. A hug and a kiss from mom for each of us and they were gone.

I waited a half-hour or so. Then I tapped on the door between Carl's room and mine. "Waddya want?" I...I mean Carl grunted.

"Kin I come in?" I asked plaintively.

"...OK, I guess," he replied. I suppose no fifteen-year-old boy is all that patient with his ten-year-old sister; probably I'd pestered him to death, scattered his toys, and generally been a nuisance for years.

He was sitting on his bed reading a comic book. I sat down next to him. "I wanna ask you something," I said, looking up at him. I...he, I mean, wasn't bad-looking. A bit skinny, complexion thankfully pretty clear, regular features.

"What?" he grunted in reply, nose still buried in his comic.

"I-I wanna play a game with you," I said.

He glanced over at me with a look of disbelief. I gathered that us playing together was not exactly a regular thing. "Um...I really think you'll like this game. Kin I tell you 'bout it?" I tried to look as cute as I could. I think I succeeded; his face seemed to soften a bit as he looked at me.

He sighed and said, "Go ahead."

"Well, it's kinda...a little embarrassing I guess. I'm not going to ask you to promise not to tell anyone or anything like that, but I guess I hope you don't. I mean, I guess it wouldn't kill me or anything, but it could make my life kinda miserable for a while, like mom'n'dad might think I was really crazy or somethin'. But I want you to know," and here I looked hard in his eyes, "If, after I tell you what I want to tell you, you really think you have to tell mom'n'dad, because like you're worried about me or somethin', I won't be mad or anything. 'Cause you're my big brother, and I love you.

"So what I want to tell you about, it's kinda like a 'let's pretend' game, y'know what I mean?" He nodded. "It goes like this:

"Let's pretend that instead of the way we live right now, we live in a culture [his eyes widened a bit at my use of that word; not exactly standard for a ten-year-old, I guess!] that's sort of a mix: partly like ours, and partly like ancient Rome. We've still got cars, and TV's, and phones and stuff, and live in houses like ours; but there's slavery. Not like slavery in the south before the Civil War, not based on skin color; anyone could be a slave, like if they were captured in war, or sold into slavery to pay for a debt, or something like that.

"And you're kinda who you are now, but maybe our family's a bit more important-like, and wealthy. And you're like a favorite son, and your family does for you what a lot of important families do for a teenage son: they give you a little slavegirl. And I'm the slavegirl." He had been sort of listening more or less halfway, still glancing at his comic book, up til then; now he looked at me intently.

"So you're my Master. And...and you're not a bad Master. You kinda care for your slavegirl, and you're not mean to her. And she really loves you, and wants to please you. And she knows that she's here to be...of service to you, to make you feel good.

"And you spank her." At this his regard became VERY intent! "A lot. Not real hard or anything. In fact you tell her, if it's ever too much, all she has to do is say 'no' or 'don't' or 'ow' or 'stop', and you'll stop. And you always try to make her...feel good, too. And you touch her all over, and do...sex things with her. A lot." He was fairly gaping by this point; I guess he was about in shock.

"So. That's it. That's what I wanted to play. If you don't want to, I mean I don't blame you or anything. And like I said: I hope you don't tell mom'n'dad, but if you feel like you have to, I won't get mad.

"And Carl," and here I almost got in his face, looking right in his eyes, "I gotta tell you something: if we do this, maybe we'll do it again. Or maybe we'll never do it again. Maybe you'll want to do it again and I won't, or vice versa. But no matter what, I will love you. You're my big brother, and I know you love me, and I will always love you. OK?" He nodded slowly.

There was a long pause. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he finally asked. I nodded. "OK, let's do it...H-how do you want to start?" he stammered, gulping a bit.

"Well, like I'll call you 'Master Carl', and you call me 'little one' unless you're about to spank me or somethin' and then you might call me 'young lady', like 'you've been a very naughty girl, young lady!' or somethin' like that. Right now I'm just going to start being your slavegirl," I finished, and I knelt down in front of him.

"Please, please, Master Carl, do I haveta go over your lap and get a spankin'?" I begged, with a little pout on my lips, head down, but peeping up at him through my eyelashes.

He gaped for a moment, gulped, and said, "R-right now, young lady! Y-you get over my knee right now, you've been a very naughty little...slavegirl!"

I got up with seeming reluctance and draped myself over his knee. I was wearing a little sundress; he didn't even try to raise the hem, he just spanked me through it. I could barely feel it. "Oh, Master Carl," I said, "Do I haveta be spanked on my bare bottom?"

I could sense him pause to collect himself, and then he slowly pulled the hem of my dress up over my waist, hooked his fingers in my panties and slid them down. I could feel the cool air on my bottom. He resumed spanking me, now on my bare bottom. But still way too lightly; it barely made a sound. "Oh, Master Carl, do I haveta be spanked even harder than that?!" I tried to make it sound in character, but it was hard to keep a bit of impatience out of my voice. He took the hint. [SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!] went his bare hand on my bare bottom, now stinging just a bit, nowhere near enough to be really uncomfortable, but making a nice sound and making my buttocks jiggle. "Ah! Ah! Ah!" I cried out as he spanked me, and wiggled a bit on his lap. I thought I could start to feel something hard poking up in my belly...

After a bit he stopped, and sort of rubbed my bottom gently. I sighed audibly. "Are you all right...little one?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm," I murmured, and squirmed up in his lap, throwing my arms around his neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. "I love you, Master Carl."

He put his arms around me. It felt very very good, better than I would have expected; perhaps there's something in a little girl's body that really needs to feel strong arms around her. "I love you too, sweet little slavegirl." He kissed my hair and caressed my bottom, still bare with my panties down around my ankles.

After a bit I slipped off his lap and stood in front of him. "Oh, Master Carl, do I haveta be all naked for my punishment?" I said, looking up at him, I hoped fetchingly, with my head tilted off to one side and a little pout on my lips.

I could see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he gulped. "Y-yes, yes you do, young lady, so you get those clothes off right now!" he managed to croak. I moved slowly, mock-reluctantly, slipping the straps off my slender shoulders, letting my sundress fall, joining my panties at my ankles, and stepping out of them. Now I was completely naked. I felt excited, and...anxious, I guess; emotions are part physical, after all, and I had the body and brain of a ten-year-old girl, even if I had the mind of a grown man. I could feel my nipples crinkle a bit as the cool air touched them. Carl stared as if his eyelids were stapled open...

I wondered if I could make myself do it, and found it remarkably easy: I began to weep, real tears running down my cheeks. I hoped Carl would react in a certain way, and he didn't disappoint me: immediately he was down on one knee alongside me, holding my shoulders, cupping my cheek, asking intently, "Rache, Rache, are you OK?!"

I nodded through my tears, saying, "Uh-huh [sob], I'm [sob] OK, [sob] Master Carl."

"Then why are you crying?" he asked.

"B-because...I'm all naked, and it's...so embarrassing to be naked in front of a man, and-and-and my little girlcleft is all bare and...Oh, Master Carl, please, please put your hand over my little cleft and hold me, please Master Carl!"

He wasted no time. I felt his warm hand cover my little cleft, and it felt...so embarrassing! But so good at the same time. And just like I imagined it, it made my breath come short. I was gasping, and sobbing softly. His other arm held me close and rocked me back and forth. I snuggled into him. I guess he couldn't resist: I could feel the hand holding my cleft begin to work it a bit, pressing, squeezing, hefting, tracing back and forth. I moaned and he held me tighter.

"Oh, Master Carl [gasp] it's so hard to breathe [gasp] when you're holding me...there [gasp]! I know I've been [gasp] a naughty girl, but do I [gasp] haveta be spanked on my [gasp] bare bottom while you're holding my cleft?! It's [gasp] sooo embarrassing!" I whined.

Once again he picked up on his 'cue'. "There now, little one, you know you need to be punished..." and he began spanking me on my bare bottom with one hand as he held my girlcleft with the other, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK!

"AAH! AAH! AAH!" I cried out. He was spanking me a little harder now, and there was actually a bit of a sting with each one, not really painful, in fact it was quite nice. Somewhat to my surprise, I could feel a moistness in my little cleft...

When he slowed down some I said, plaintively, "Master Carl, would you please hold me on your lap?"

"Of course, little one, I'd be glad to hold my sweet little slavegirl on my lap!" he said, and he sat down on a chair and pulled me up. He cradled and rocked me, humming to me softly.

After a while I sort of ducked my head into his chest, peeped up at him, and said, "Master Carl, would-would you please hold me...there, again, and-and kiss me real deep?" He didn't answer, he just seized my cleft as I parted my thighs, fastened his lips on mine, and kissed me. I opened my mouth and he took the hint, probing inside with his tongue. I lightly touched the end of it with mine, and he groaned and held me tighter, gripping my little cleft, squeezing and pressing it as I gently rocked my hips.

When he finally broke off I was gasping, burying my head in his chest, gripping his shirt in my little fists. "Oh, Master Carl, I know I've been such a naughty girl, but do I haveta be spanked naked over your lap?!"

He seemed to be settling nicely 'into character'. "Yes you do, young lady, and right now!" he replied. He shifted me over his knees and layed into me pretty good, SMACK-SMACK-SMACK! as I kicked my little legs and sobbed. This time it stung a fair bit, but still not really painful. I could feel my bottom getting hotter.

Finally he stopped spanking and began rubbing. I sighed and whimpered a bit, and let my thighs fall apart some. He let his hand wander down until he was stroking my cleft and clitoris. No question but I was damp down there! I pushed my little vulva against his hand as he pressed and squeezed. I was moaning, and my hips were rocking up and down, I felt it building, and I let it go: crying out, bucking, yelping, orgasming on his lap.

It's hard to describe how it felt. Admittedly I don't think it felt as...intense as the orgasms I remembered as an adult male. But it lasted and lasted, and even as it faded it was still so good!

When it was finally passing I scrambled up and sat facing him on his lap. I put my little hands behind his head and pulled him down to me. "Thank you, Master, for the wonderful punishment-'gasm," I murmured as I planted my lips on his, opening my mouth again to receive his deep kiss as he hugged me tight. I could feel the bump in his pants pressing against my bottom...

After a bit I slid down his lap and knelt in front of him. "M-may I...s-service you, Master?" I stammered, head down, peeping up at him through my lashes. I guessed he wouldn't immediately know what I meant (after all, I had a good idea of what I/he knew at fifteen!), so I reached out and unzipped his fly. "I promise I won't use my teeth..." I murmured as I freed him from the opening in his underwear. Finally his rod sprang out, fully erect. I took him in my hands, caressing and cupping, working the foreskin up and down, marveling at the sight of a little girl's hands, my hands, holding his teenage manhood, which seemed so big in comparison to the small fingers encircling it.

"Rache, honey, are you su..." he began to stammer.

I just went, "Shhh," and opened wide, taking as much of him as I could comfortably between my little lips. He tasted a little salty, not bad at all. I sucked, and licked, and caressed his scrotum and shaft. I didn't expect it to take long and I wasn't wrong: in just a few moments he was spending in my mouth with a gasp and a groan. Salty again, not a really great taste, but not so bad I had to spit it out. I swallowed convulsively, but remembered to let some of it trickle out of my mouth...

"Did I...service you acceptably, Master?" I inquired plaintively, my head cocked to one side, with what I hoped was a fetching little pout on my semen-stained lips.

"Oh, yes, you did, oh my goodness, you did," he stammered out, and pulled me up on to his lap, hugging me and hugging me. I melted into his arms, loving the feel, happy to have given him such pleasure.

Not The End!

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