Ryan, My "Little" Brother (Rewrite) - Part 12

[tekuno]

This is a rewrite of BigBearMan94's original concept, done with his permission.

Original Story
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

This story is now complete. (Thanks for reading!) Each section ends with a link to the next section, but here are links to all the parts of the rewrite for handy navigation

Rewrite
One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

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A full dozen, and not done yet! Tsk, tsk! Don't worry, part 13 will be the end. (In fact, I admit to hurrying the plot along slightly in this part, because I wanted to get there a little faster. I have a short story in mind to write after this and I want to get this one done.) That may mean that part 13 will be extra-long, but I'll try to get it posted within the next 36 hours anyway. I'll also post the epilogue in a separate thread shortly thereafter -- don't miss that.

Y'know, this hasn't turned out too badly -- not a single retcon yet, and we're nearly done. Maybe I should just release the story I've been sitting on in parts as well, and finish it slowly, rather than trying to complete it first. What do you think?

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Ryan, My "Little" Brother
A Rewrite of BigBearMan94's Original Story (With Permission)
Part 12

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"What does Ryan think about this?"

"I don't know. I haven't asked."

"What?"

"He hasn't shown any signs that he's thought of it himself, yet, and I can't see that there's any benefit to telling him right now. After all, if everything is okay after all, then there's no point in making him worry needlessly, and if there's serious trouble coming, I'd rather that he not have to worry about it when there's nothing we can do and he's still okay. Let him enjoy himself while he can. After all, he missed out on being an actual kid, right?"

"I can understand your reasoning, but I'm not really sure that you're doing the right thing."

"Look, if I'm right and he's going to turn into an old man in a few days, then pretty soon it will become obvious, and I won't even have to tell him. And if I'm wrong, then it won't hurt him not to have known what I was worrying about."

James sighed. "I wish I could think of a counterargument, but there's nothing to debate. Really the only action you could take would be to push him into a hospital, and you can't do that without a good reason."

"I just hope no good reason pops up."

"Well, how about we spend some time with him now? Same reasoning applies; if he's okay, it won't hurt anything, and if you're right you'll wish you had, otherwise."

"Very true. Let's go get him."

I knocked at Ryan's door, and it opened. "Hey, Ryan? Want to go for ice cream with us?"

Ryan looked pained. "Can't. I just called up a bunch of my girls. They should be here in a few minutes, actually."

James, as usual, had an answer to everything. "Hmmmm. The ice cream place closes at 10. It's 6:30 now. Could you maybe hurry and be done by 9:15?"

Ryan gave James a long, emotionless look, sort a thousand-yard stare of hatred. "I could, if I wanted to."

I thought it might be better to intervene. "Well, we only want to go get ice cream if you go with, so could you do us a favor and cut your activities short tonight?"

Ryan sniffed. "Well, okay. But you owe me a favor."

"Thanks, Champ. We'll go to the basement to stay out of your way; you can get us when you're done."

James and I went downstairs. With nothing better to do, we talked for a while, which was pleasant. Then we spent some time making out, and ended up fucking -- on the floor, since I pointed out to James that it was hard enough for me to fit on the damn thing when NOT in motion. Then we went back to talking, while Ryan presumably satisfied his libido. In previous instances, James and I had been able to fill nearly this amount of time with sex, but the thought of Ryan being slowly killed by an artificial old age made both of us jumpy.

Finally, at about 9:25, Ryan knocked at the head of the stairway.

"Okay, guys, I'm done."

"Took you long enough. Let's go."

The walk to the ice cream shop was awful. Not only did Ryan want to talk about nothing but sex, he made a point of only talking to ME about it. The few times James responded or asked a question, Ryan ignored him and just kept talking. When we got to the ice cream shop, with only ten minutes left before they closed, he insisted on getting a complicated multi-scoop cone with lots of toppings which would, if the poor kid working the counter hadn't been nice enough to stay slightly late, have meant that James and I had no time to get anything at all; as it was we each got a single scoop cone. (James gave the kid a very large tip to compensate him for his trouble.) On the way back, Ryan made a show of how much he enjoyed every different part of his cone, trying to provoke James into a fight.

When we got back, James announced that he was going to call it a night, explaining that he had chores to do at home. Ryan openly jeered at him, until he drove off into the night, and then turned to me eagerly.

"Want to pick up our Monopoly game where we left off?"

I sighed. Part of me wanted to say no and go to bed. The other part, the part which had been hugging Ryan a few weeks ago, reminded me that Ryan might be in serious danger. "Okay, Champ. Why not?"

We had left the game on the floor of the room which had been Ryan's bedroom before we shuffled the bedrooms around after Dad died. We sat on the floor and continued for a while, but I didn't have any enthusiasm for the game any more. Between feeling bad for James and feeling worried about Ryan, I just couldn't pay attention to anything as silly as moving a little metal car around a board. After 45 minutes, Ryan asked me flat out:

"Aren't you going to take your money for passing Go? Are you even paying any attention?"

"Oh? Sorry, Ryan. I guess I'm just tired."

Ryan blew a raspberry. "I might as well have kept the girls around. You're no fun tonight."

"Why don't we watch a movie instead?"

"All right, which one?"

"I'd like something nice and innocent and happy, if you don't mind. But I'll let you pick."

"Let me check."

It wasn't long before Ryan had Neltfix loading some piece of Dinsey animation. I made some popcorn, and we watched it. Sitting next to him on the sofa in the living room, I was able to pretend that all this wasn't happening, and he was just my 11-year-old kid brother watching a cartoon with me. Unfortunately, the movie didn't hold my interest very well, although Ryan was riveted, and I had time to think about Ryan's problem.

Let's see: if he was around -- let's say -- 35 now, and he was around 13 at the starting point, it meant that he was getting about 5 or 6 years older each time. Let's say 6, just to play it safe. The average life expectancy for men in the U.S. was 75, so he had about 40 years to go. 6 into 40 is 6 and a bit. That's assuming that the episodes were giving him the same amount of age each time, but I didn't want to think about that.

At the same time, each time he aged, it was coming faster than the previous one. The most recent interval was about a day and a half. With luck, the intervals would stop shrinking so much, but even if they stayed the same length, Ryan would go through six of them in 9 days. If they continued to shrink, it would probably be less than 6. My little brother might be dead in less than a week!

When the movie ended, Ryan gave me a look. "Why the fuck are you crying, Alex? That wasn't sad at all."

"Sorry, Ryan, I was thinking of something else." I gave him a long hug, which he didn't reciprocate. "Want to watch another one?"

"Only if I get to pick anything I want this time."

"Fine." I thought fast. "That's your favor back from ice cream."

"Whatever."

Perhaps fortunately, and definitely typically for him, Ryan picked a horror movie. It was an American remake of a Japanese horror movie. In the movie, a psychic ad executive works on an ad campaign for a cereal manufacturer. When the cereal fails in the marketplace, the CEO of the company kills him and throws his body into a giant model of a bowl of cereal on the roof of the factory. A demo tape of the failed ad campaign begins to circulate; at the end there is an image of a circle filled with milk. Seven days after watching the tape, people choke to death on their breakfasts. The only way to break the curse is to give someone a box of cereal. It was monumentally stupid.

Of course, Ryan was both an 11-year-old (if, perhaps, an 11-year-old in an adult body) and a cereal fanatic. After we finished the movie, he started to joke manically. Unfortunately, by this time it was nearly 3 AM, and both of us were beginning to yawn. Finally we headed off to bed, but rather predictably, there was a knock on my door within fifteen minutes.

"Alllex, I can't sleep. What if my breakfast kills me in my sleep?"

"Don't worry, Champ. Why would it bother? It could just wait a few hours and get you when you come into the kitchen."

"Allllex!"

"Just kidding. Don't worry, Ryan, it was just a movie."

"Yeah, but I'm scaaaared." It was really weird to hear that spoken, unironically, in an adult voice. "Can I sleep in your room?"

I laughed. "Ryan, if you sleep in my room, I'd have to sleep somewhere else. I barely fit in my bed by myself."

"I'll sleep on the floor!"

"Hmmmm. That might work. Why don't you bring your mattress in, though. In fact, I'll pull my mattress on the floor, too, so I'll be right next to you."

"Thank you, Alex!"

Ryan and I managed to squeeze both mattresses onto my floor, somehow. I gave him another hug, and even tucked him in. I was all set to doze off and forget about all my worries, when he reached out and held my hand.

I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up, which was around 2 in the afternoon, things were exactly as bad as I had feared. After about three hours, Ryan had stopped thrashing around and waking up, and I was able to get some decent sleep, but when I awoke, it suddenly dawned on me that his sudden calmness might have been something sinister. Sure enough, when I turned on the light, Ryan was even larger than he had been -- and even older-looking.

His forehead had developed a few wrinkles, and his cheeks were both slightly sunken and slightly saggy. His skin had lost all its suppleness. I realized with a shock that, ignoring the insane musculature, Ryan now reminded me of nobody quite so much as Dad, except that Dad hadn't looked so old.

Meanwhile, although he was larger, he was not healthier-looking. His abs were slightly obscured, and although his muscles were larger than they had been, they didn't look as taut as they had. His skin was less smooth, and sagged here and there.

I was standing there in shock when Ryan woke up.

"Whazzamadder? M'I bigger 'gen?"

"Yes, Ryan, I'm afraid you are."

"Huh. Lemme go look."

Ryan got to his feet -- I noticed that he had to use both hands for balance. Was that because of his size, or was he feeling the loss of his youth? He walked out of my room to the bathroom.

"Holy shit, I'm old!"

Well, so much for keeping my worries a secret from Ryan. He came scrambling back into the room, pale and frightened.

"Alex, I'm turning into an old man!"

"Calm down, Ryan."

"No, seriously, I look like I'm 90!"

"No, no. Ryan, stay calm. You're probably about 45, maybe a bit more or less."

"Shit! I'm fucking old!"

I got up and hugged Ryan again. It took fifteen minutes to calm him down to the point where he was no longer almost hyperventilating. Fortunately, his sudden awareness of his situation got him to forget the movie, so we were able to go to the kitchen without him cringing.

I made pancakes. I felt a bit guilty about it -- how many times had I made pancakes in the last week? -- but they were one of Ryan's favorites, and helped me keep him calm.

Unfortunately, although Ryan hadn't noticed his own advancing age earlier, now that it had been brought to his attention, he made the same deductions I had. We compared notes, and the meal was not at all improved by the two of us crying into our plates.

Finally, I pushed my chair back. "Okay, that's enough of that. We don't really know that you're in trouble. Maybe the doctor can help you; he said he was going to work on it right away. Meanwhile, we shouldn't waste time. Let's go and do something fun, instead of sitting around being miserable."

Ryan was still downcast. "Okay."

We set off for the local park, and spent the rest of the afternoon playing frisbee, humiliating the neighborhood jocks at arm-wrestling (and amusing local parents by letting toddlers "beat" us), and lying on our backs in the grass looking at clouds. Ryan cheered up, mostly. While he was engaged in beating some poor school friend who didn't recognize him at basketball, I texted James several times to give him an update, and also sent another e-mail to Dr. Franskasten with the details of Ryan's latest change.

When it began to get dark, around 8:30, Ryan and I walked home, and then sat in the backyard watching lightning bugs and stars. James, in response to a text, had dropped off some hotdogs and popsicles, but had declined to stay, and we had a peaceful dinner. Then we watched another Dinsey film -- I very carefully avoided letting Ryan load Paxir's "Rise", since I remembered the sad part at the beginning (where the wife dies) which he might not appreciate seeing under the circumstances.

Much to my alarm, even though it was not quite midnight when the movie ended and he had been staying up much later than that lately, Ryan was already yawning his head off. I tried frantically to keep him awake, but by 12:30 he apologized and went off to my bedroom, where his mattress was, and went to sleep like a baby.

I sat in the living room, staring at nothing. My worst fears were coming true; I had no doubt that Ryan was sleeping so soon because he was going to age again. That meant that the intervals between Ryan's aging episodes were now smaller than 24 hours; he probably had less than 5 days to go before he would die of old age, maybe MUCH less.

After half an hour of utter misery, it dawned on me that even under the circumstances I had more productive things to do with my time than sit and mope. I wrote another e-mail to Dr. Franskasten, frantic in tone, and was just composing a text to James when my phone rang in my hand. The caller ID was a mass of numbers -- later I discovered that this is typical of calls from other countries. Naturally, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Halloo? Alex Wrightman is speaking?" The voice was low and mellow. Almost furry. But there was an accent -- one which I couldn't place at first.

"Yes, this is Alex Wrightman. Who am I speaking to?"

"Ah, Mr. Wrightman, glad I erm finally speaking with you to be. Doctor Vera Franskasten speaking to you it is." Scandinavian, of course.

"Doctor Franskasten?! Oh, thank god. Did you get the e-mail I just sent you?"

"Yes, yes. Mr. Wrightman, nothing frerm you will I hide. Your brother a very dangerous situertion is in. Ern my other subjercts I am basing my estimate, which is that withert a corrective provided being, in three days will your brother be dead. Possibly less."

"Oh, god, no! No!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Wrightman. Did I not say 'withert a corrective'? To the best of my ability now I work ern such a thing. No patient have I lost yert, Mr. Wrightman, and now I to begin I do nert choose! But in this matter from you the fullest cooperation I merst have."

"Anything! What do you want me to do?"

"Ert present, yerng man, little you can do there is. All from you I am asking is status to cerntinue erpdating. Of the greatest ermportance it may be, for me the condition of your brother to be knowing. Please your merst helpful messages to continue."

"Yes, of course. Do you think you can stop him from aging?"

"My best I will do. No time on useless chatter let us waste! Take care of your brother, yerng man! A good merning I bid you!"

Before I could even reply that it was nighttime here, the doctor had hung up.

It was several minutes before it dawned on me that the doctor's name was 'Vera' -- Doctor Franskasten was a woman.

[rododoro3]

Tekuno, I've been following this rewrite from the very first chapter, and I must admit, I've never been so motivated to comment on a story before.
This is the only series on the site that makes me wait in earnest for a new installment; the only series that manages to be endearing, touching, funny, sexy and erotic at the same time, and above all, the only series that makes me think "Yes!" whenever I see a new chapter.
Thank you for your hard work, we all appreciate it, especially me.
-Rod