"Thank heavens!" cried Laurel as she threw open the heavy metal portal. There on the floor of the small chamber sat Laurel’s safe. It was a large and ancient vault,
like the kind small banks used a century ago. Streaks of ash were smeared across its matte black walls, obscuring the gold leaf scrollwork that ran along the edges of
its heavy, and thankfully still unopened, door.
I felt a pull chain for a light switch flutter against my face. Instinctively, I yanked it. A light clicked on, accompanied by a hissing noise. I smiled innocently as I
watched the ash particles floating around the light bulb begin to dance.
"Damn!" Laurel muttered as the little room began to fill with gas. "I forgot all about that." Quickly, she backed out of the room and slammed the door shut.
My face twisted into a scowl. "Forgot what?" I asked.
"Oh, it’s just another little security precaution of mine." She bent her neck and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Nothing to worry your cute little head about."
"Laurel," I growled through gritted baby teeth. She smiled at my preschool pique. "What little security precaution?"
"Just a little booby trap to slow down anyone brazen enough to try and steal my secrets. The pull cord in the safe room releases a gas that causes rapid, but temporary
aging." Laurel grunted softly as she shifted me against her body. Her breasts, which had been large and firm just a few seconds ago, were now soft and lumpy, like a
pair of old down-filled pillows. My feet were now resting on top of a shelf of loose flesh that had once been a taut teenage abdomen. I could hear the seams on her
jeans begin to rip as her hips expanded. Her youthful face was now decidedly matronly, her soft chestnut hair streaked with gray. She was at least forty-five, going on
sixty as she sank onto a pair of aching knees, her body raising a cloud of blackened grime as she collapsed into a heap on the sooty basement floor.
I was practically dancing as my feet hit the floor. "Did you say rapid aging?" Laurel was definitely the most paranoid woman I had ever met. Even that two ton safe
had been bolted to the floor. But maybe this time her paranoia would be my salvation.
"Yes," she rasped as she lay on the floor, her wizened body pointed toward the safe room like a crooked arrow. I could feel the leathery flesh of a withered hand land
on my shoulder, but Laurel’s weakened grip could only stop me for a second before I brushed her fingers aside and quickly toddled toward the heavy door.
I jumped up and grabbed the doorknob. My small body swung like a pendulum as I used all of the little weight I had to turn it. The gas’s effect might be short lived, but
at least I’d be a man again, if only for a little while.
I could feel the door glide forward, then bounce backward as the knob clicked underneath me and inertia forced it open. I glanced back at poor old Laurel. She was at
least eighty now, her girlish figure long gone, her dignity preserved by the shreds of my old jeans and shirt, her wrinkled face hidden under filmy strands of long snowy
hair. I held my breath. Laurel had been eighteen when she had been exposed to the gas, and her adult sized lungs had taken in a full dose of the gas. With my extreme
youth and child size lungs, I should be able to take in just enough to return to normal – if I timed things just right.
I jumped to the floor and exhaled. I could smell the rose-scented gas wafting around me as I breathed in.
I was just about to dash across the room to safety when I heard Laurel’s voice croak, "the gas has a different effect on males."