You consider zapping Francis with the reality change button as well, but decide against it. Changing reality seemed to be a little unpredictable. You wanted to keep reality is a position that you knew what was going on. Francis was a young teen in a grown man's body. If you altered reality so you weren't friends any more, that could cause problems. Still, that left his father as a young teen with the mentality of a mature adult, but he seemed to be coping alright.
Francis knocks on his dad's/son's door. "Hey, Darryl." Francis grimaces as the calls his once-father by his first name, the word feeling unnatural in his mouth. "I'm going out. I expect you to stay in your room and, uh, think about what you did. Alright?"
"Yes, dad," the sullen man-teen (teen-man?) says from Francis' former bedroom.
Francis throws on a coat that used to be his father's and grins at you. "Alright, let's go have some fun!"
You and Francis walk down the street. He's grinning the whole time, occasionally pulling his coat sleeve back and running a hand over his arm hair. He also can't seem to stop playing with his new goatee.
"So, uh, Francis, what's the plan?"
He shrugs. "I figured we'd stop by the mall and pick me up one of those remotes. Hey, have you ever noticed just how short you are?"
You frown. "You are, like, twenty years older than me."
He grins. "I am, aren't I. How about that. I figured we might stop by the park and play with your remote a little, though."
You internally groan. Changing people willy-nilly hadn't been on your itinerary. Though, you are forced to remind yourself that you had changed several people without their consent already. Perhaps a few more wouldn't hurt.
"Alright. I guess."
Francis takes you to the nearby park, which is conveniently swarming with kids and their parents. He points to a young man, in his mid-twenties holding a small boy. "Can you get multiple people at once?"
"Yeah..."
"Do them! Make them older!"
"Both of them?"
"Yeah! I just want to see what happens."
You dial the beam wider until both appear on the screen.
"Alfred Malone, 26. Tim Malone, 3"
You set the remote to Physical Age. Not wanting to take too long, you rapidly press the forward button until it reads "+6 yrs/minute"
You and Francis find your way to a nearby park bench and watch the spectacle unfold.
Firstly, the small child, three-year-old Tim begins rapidly growing, his age doubling in the span of half a minute. Alfred, Tim's father, notices his son quickly becoming heavier in his arms. Surprised he quickly sets his son down and takes a step back, alarmed at his toddler's sudden growth. Little Tim's clothes quickly become too small for him, beginning to tear and pop at the seems.
Francis stifles a laugh as he watches the father's reactions. Ordinarily you would find this funny as well, but something about the way Francis is finding such joy in the situation unsettles you.
Only a minute has gone by and Tim is already 9 years old, a child in his own right. He seems fairly confused, but not altogether grasping just what is happening. He still only has the mind of a three-year old, after all.
Alfred looks from his son to the surrounding parents and children, who are much to involved in their own play time to notice Alfred's predicament. Alfred's changes have also progressed. While not as dramatic as Tim's changes, Alfred has gone from his mid-twenties to his early-thirties. You've already noticed his belly beginning to expand, forming something of a small gut.
Tim, either not noticing his own changes, or simply not caring, turns to play on the jungle gym. This breaks Alfred from his shock and he tries following his son. "Uh, T-Tim! Stay with Daddy, please!"
"Slide!" The now twelve-year-old calls out, sliding down the smooth metal in his ridiculously small clothes. When he reaches the bottom, his is quickly met by his father.
"Let's, uh, let's go to the bathroom real quick." Alfred grasps Tim's growing hand in his.
Tim frowns and tries to pull away. "But I wanna play!"
Alfred shakes his head. "I know, son. But you've got to come with Daddy, alright?"
At this point, Tim is hitting his teenage years. Blotchy, red acne forms on his face, appearing a disappearing on his skin as he quickly slips through his teens. He's quickly growing taller, the last remnants of his toddler clothing snapping away. All that's left is a tiny diaper, somehow impossibly holding onto his teenage waist.
Francis bursts out laughing at the spectacle. "Oh, man! That's amazing!"
You frown, finger hovering over the center button, ready to stop the change. "Alright, I think they've had enough."
Francis pushes your hand away from the button. "No, no. Just a little more. Come on, let's follow them!"
You pursue Tim and Alfred. Alfred has advanced into his early-forties. Grey is streaking across his dark hair, which is rapidly receding at the front and thinning at the back. His small gut is quickly progressing and he seems out of breath. The flesh under his chin as drooped, forming a second chin, which is being covered in dark stubble as he begins growing a grey-specked beard.
Tim is beginning to enter his adult years. He seems to have taken a greater interest in his changes without the distractions of the playground. He curiously rubs the body hair sprouting on his chest and stomach, as well as his arms and legs. Light stubble forms on his cheeks. "What's happening?" he asks in a disconcertingly child-like voice.
Alfred rubs a hand through his vanishing hairline. He winces and unbuttons his pants, giving his growing gut more room. "I don't know. Don't be scared, Tim. It's going to be alright."
Tim frowns, as though he'd been insulted. "I'm not scared!" He grins and tugs at his quickly multiplying chest hair. "I'm a big boy, now!"
Alfred's shirt begins riding up over his gut. He rubs his well-trimmed beard atop his chubby cheeks. "Holy f...." he glances at the now-adult Tim. "Fudge. Uh, listen. Don't go anywhere. I've got to call your mother." As he digs through the pockets of his tightening pants for his phone, the last of the dark hairs in his beard turns grey.
You glance at your remote, seeing that Tim is beginning to progress into his thirties, now older than what his father had started out as. His slim figure is starting to soften, the impossible diaper finally starting to give way. His stubble grows out, giving him a beard of his own as his hairline begins to recede to match his father's. Alfred holds his phone at arm's length, trying to make out the screen with his worsening vision.
"Alright, I'm stopping it," you hiss to Francis from your hiding spot.
He rolls his eyes. "Ugh, fine."
You press the center button, stopping the changes. "Alfred Malone, 56. Tim Malone, 33."
"Now I'm going to turn them back."
Francis tries to reach for your remote. "What? No way! Do that reality thing that you did to my dad! I want to see what happens!"
"I'm not going to leave a grown man with the mentality of a three year old!"
Alfred presses the phone to his ear. "Martha? Hey, it's Alfred. We have a situation."
You quickly activate the Reality setting and tap the center button. A ripple expands out from Tim and Alfred, and they momentarily stand there bleary-eyed. Tim's diaper morphs into a large, adult diaper. The tatters of his old clothes come flying in from the jungle gym and swirl around his body, forming into an ordinary t-shirt and jeans. Alfred's clothes expand to cover his new girth and a pair of glasses materializes on his nose.
Alfred picks up from his conversation right where it left off. "I just wanted to let you know that Tim's having a real fun time here at the park. No incidents today, either."
Tim looks around himself with an expression of child-like innocence.
Francis chuckles. "Not bad, man. Look at his face!"
You turn the remote to Mental Age narrow the beam to just Tim. Alfred could keep the mentality of a younger man, but you couldn't leave Tim with the mind of a toddler. You rapidly press the forward button and watch as Tim seems to become more aware of his surroundings and begin to comprehend his environment.
He turns to Alfred. "Hey, Dad. Is that Mom on the phone? Say hi for me."
When his mental age hits 30 or so, you stop the change and hit the Reality button again. The obvious bulge of a diaper disappears from under Tim's jeans and his t-shirt turns into a button-down shirt.
"Spoil sport," Francis mutters.
The both of you leave your hiding spot and let Tim and Alfred Malone move on with their new lives which, as far as they knew, had always been that way.
Francis chuckles. "That was pretty fun. The remote of yours is pretty cool, man."