You went back to the car and whipped out your phone to shoot a text.
["hey dad, wanna chill at your place this evening?"]
You drove out and headed to a preferred milkshake shop of yours to wait until he replies. You take this opportunity to experiment with the device. You see a mother and her son at a table together; the mom trying to ignore her kid as he fusses over wanting a different flavor. Pointing the device at each of them yields an integer on the screen, indicating their ages. The mother: 32, the son: 6. You elected to switch them around. Keeping Physical, Mental, Clothes and Reality set to True, you quietly clicked away as the son's feet hit the floor as his legs extended. The chair he was sitting in scooted over half a foot as his body grew. He shot up through puberty, then his clothes started flashing between different styles and phases of adolescence, until he sat there as a 21-year-old man with a small vanilla ice cream cone. Looking down at the cone, he had already nibbled away at 1/3rd of it when he was a child, but now gobbled it down in but a few enormous lunges of his mouth--his palate now preferring more subtle, less sweet flavors like vanilla.
Not finished yet, you redirected the device ever-so-slightly, and began rapidly pressing on the opposite button. You sat back with your milkshake in the other hand, and enjoyed the show as the mother began to lose her excess 'baby weight'. Her makeup became less obtrusive as her skin became a bit naturally clearer. Her hair became longer and fuller as her figure slimmed down even further; her fat ass having moments ago expanded out past the boundaries of the chair she was sitting in, now rested both cheeks neatly in the center. But then the de-evolution continued. Her hair flipped around into a pony-tail as her skin got lighter and softer. Her clothing transformed into a high school uniform, allowing you to see her legs lose shape and muscle definition below her skirt. Her hair got shorter and a set of braces emerged from her teeth. Her high-school uniform regressed into a middle-school uniform, with a puffy shirt and a childishly long skirt. The uniform was cute to the point that you neglected to notice her breasts shrinking; her chest was flat within seconds. Per the inverse of her son from across the table, her little feet lifted off of the floor as her legs became shorter. Her uniform changed further into simple children's clothing. Her clothing became even more embarrassing and childish as she shrank further still. The device told you that she was now at the age of 5, which would probably be sufficient. I mean she's now younger than her son was, after all. But you decided that you wanted her to start over again. So you pressed the button a few more times. Her hair becomes much shorter as her body loses shape. Her pants and shirt merge together and poof out into a little flowery dress. A plastic booster seat rises up beneath her; scooping up her ass which had been bigger than the chair a moment ago, now a simple little bottom that fit snugly in the toddler's booster seat. That's cute, but that's not young enough. You press the backwards arrow just one more time, and watch the chair and booster transform into a wooden high-chair. She shrinks even more as her hair becomes very light and only a few inches long. Her dress becomes smaller and simpler. The banana split with fudge she had been munching away on was now bigger than her face. She giggled and grabbed the banana, forcing it into her tiny mouth--and it didn't fit. She awkwardly chewed as much banana as she could get in her mouth, wincing at how dehydrating it was to the roof of her mouth. She let the rest of the banana drop down onto her dress and roll onto the floor as she reached for a glob of fudgey ice cream and applied it to her mouth in a similar manner.
"Hey, no, honey bunny..." The boy said, re-positioning his chair to be right next to her. He picked up the banana and wiped off her dress and hands. He got out a spoon and began feeding her himself. "There we go. That's a good girl." He said as she nibbled down on the spoon and coo'd.
You got a buzz on your phone.
["sure. use back door. front door under construction."] Your dad texted back.
Time to go, then. You stood up and kept your eyes peeled on the little girl and her new dad. You notice that her purse had transformed into a diaper bag, and there were at least a couple of Pampers poking out the top of the hem. Oh no, you really put her back in diapers? The device had indeed told you she was back at age 2, so that was a likely occurrence. You hope that little boy's newly-minted adult experience includes knowledge of how to change a diaper. Because his kid probably won't be getting potty-trained for a while.
You leave those two behind to go live out their new lives, and head off to your dad's place.