"Maybe you could compete with the second and third graders?" Clark suggested.
Alarmed, Nick raised both of his eyebrows. "Are you sure about this? I mean, that's awfully young."
"Think about it. You could be like one of those child prodigies on the news," Clark continued, "And there's something about seeing you at 8 or 9 that screams 'boy genius'."
"You've got a point," Nick replied, "I was one of the smartest kids in class back in the day."
Nick took the flyer from Clark and examined the date of the competition. "Next week? So whatever age I pick, I gotta stay like that all week?"
"If you want to," Clark responded, "But you don't have to."
Nick was confident. "No, I'm gonna do it. Honestly, I won’t even need to really prepare anything. I’ve got a couple older projects from college that I can show up with. Wouldn’t even require any prep work.” Nick added pensively, “Really, the hardest part would be adjusting to being in a younger body, so I should probably spend the next week doing that just so I’m not totally out of it for the competition.”
Clark was visibly excited. “Sick, dude! Okay, just lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help out for the next week. We're both off work all week, and the competition isn't until the Sunday.”
"Well," Nick started, "I can buy my own clothes, but you might need to help with meals and most of the cleaning. Especially the laundry because in case you didn't remember, I used to wet the bed a lot in the third grade."
“Alright man, say no more.” Clark couldn’t hide his eagerness to help. “Are you sure you don't want me to grab you any clothes? I have to grab some stuff at Target anyway."
"That's okay," Nick responded, "I remember the style of clothes I wore as a kid. Shoes might be a bit tricky. I'll call you later to tell you my shoe size."
"Fair enough," Clark got up before adding, "If you don't mind me asking, how old are you gonna be again?"
"Uh, maybe 9. The gun isn't perfectly calibrated, so it won't be exact," Nick replied, "And don't worry about me making you younger with that gun as well. I'm not that harsh."
"I appreciate it," Clark said, "Just make sure you give it to me when I get back. See you at home."
---
Nick spent the next 30 minutes looking for age appropriate clothes that would fit. Recalling what he had worn as a kid through his childhood photos, Nick found several graphic tees depicting superheroes, as well as characters from video games that some children today are into. A Minecraft t-shirt was one of the standouts, and Nick selected that shirt to wear once the gun finishes its work.
He was more careful with the jeans and shorts as there was no way for him to predict what his waist size was when he was 9. He played it safe by buying a few different sizes in case his first pick would be big on him.
White socks and underwear were the easiest items to pick, but Nick swallowed his pride as he grabbed the pack of tighty-whities. He also picked out several matching pajamas, with patterns ranging from dinosaurs to sharks. Content with his choices, Nick proceeded to the checkout desk.
Nick acted natural as the clothes were being placed in the bags, even though they looked far too small for him. Once the purchase was completed, he returned to his car and took a deep breath as he would soon be too young to drive once again.
---
Back in his room at their apartment, Nick sat the bags down in front of the mirror and grabbed the regression gun. "Man, if anything goes wrong with this, I’m seriously fucked", he thought, "Or, since I'm gonna be 9 soon, fudged." Nick knew that his science was sound. There was little chance, if any, of something going wrong. The gun would regress him to 9, and he’d spend the entire week as a kid, come back with $1000 in hand, and finally age back up to 28. He’d gain valuable insight into the regression process, and a little extra cash certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Nick surveyed himself in the mirror. A moderately-kempt beard adorned his face. Nick mulled over the potential for disaster, but knew that there was no going back on the plan. "Here goes nothing," he thought while staring anxiously at the mirror.
He elected to remove his clothes for the regression in order to fully observe the process in action. First his t-shirt, then the jeans, and finally his boxer-briefs were stripped off and folded into a pile on the floor, and there Nick stood in front of the mirror. He found himself admiring his body for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time. He would not be happy about going back to his parents' house, and it would be too much trouble for Clark to take care of him as a legal guardian.
He set the number on the digital screen of the gun to 9, held the gun aimed at himself, and pulled the trigger.
Immediately, what Nick noticed was that he didn’t really feel much of anything, at least nothing as drastic as he’d expected. He was losing inches off his height quite rapidly, but nothing about it felt especially disorienting. Just in the same way that you never really notice yourself growing up incrementally day by day, Nick suspected that the brain compensated in a similar fashion here but in an observable real time.
He moved his hands to his face as he reached what he assumed was about 16-years-old, and his beard thinned before it finally receded. He’d lost most of his body hair by now and ample muscle mass, but he was never especially toned to begin with. What struck him was the dwindling of his manhood as he gazed down in the mirror, having reversed past 13. Of course, he’d expected it, but the anticipation didn’t do much to ease his disappointment at finding himself on the less enticing side of puberty, dropping past 11 years old.
He used his tongue to touch the jaw of his mouth, and noticed the absence of most of his adult teeth. The teeth receding back into the jaw, as well as the return of the baby teeth above them, were not painful. Similar to his height, Nick figured that you never notice your teeth coming out day by day and his brain compensated that way. Having finally reached 9, Nick glanced at his prepubescent manhood, which meant that he wouldn't be participating in his favorite pastime for at least another 3 years.
“Well, I guess that’s done.” Nick said to himself, thrown off by how clearly prepubescent he now sounded.
Returning to the mirror, his jaw dropped after seeing the boy reflected back at him. His hair reverted to a lighter shade of brown, and he welcomed the freckles on his face back like he was reunited with an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time. Clenching his teeth together, Nick felt immense joy at the childish grin he was making. The only adult teeth that remained were the first molars, the incisors on his lower jaw and the central incisors on his upper jaw, with his left lateral incisor partially erupted and a gap where his right lateral incisor would erupt. The second molars disappeared completely, and the rest of his teeth were replaced with baby teeth.
The gap next to his front teeth reminded him of a time when he would easily whistle through the gap using his tongue. After just one whistle, Nick felt as if he had gone back in time.
Next, he emptied the bags and piled the child-sized clothes onto the floor. He didn't care about the mess as he figured that Clark would clean it up for him. He pulled up the white underwear, the waistband snapping around his smaller torso. The boy’s briefs fit snugly around his 9-year-old reduced form and diminished manhood.
After putting on the socks and underwear, Nick grabbed the Minecraft t-shirt that he wanted to wear first. The shirt fit him just right, and the color would especially help Nick sell the whole '9-year-old' act. Some of the shorts turned out to be a little big on him, which he shrugged off as his body being scrawny once again.
Realizing that he still had no shoes, Nick looked up how to measure a child's foot size online on his phone. He was caught off-guard at how large the phone felt on his hand, but was still able to determine the right shoe size for him.
As soon as he was finished, he called Clark's phone while hoping that he wasn't driving. Clark answered the phone.
"Hey, Nick! You done already?" Clark asked.
"Yep!" Nick exclaimed, "I dunno what coulda gone wrong, but I'm definitely 9 again."
"So, it actually worked? You're really a kid, holy shit!" Clark replied.
"You know, you really shouldn't swear in front of a child," Nick commented.
"Yeah yeah," Clark replied, "Did you find out your shoe size by any chance?"
"Size 4, and I'm not picky on how it'll look," Nick answered, "I wanna sell the whole 'being 9 years old again' thing this week."
"Okay, I'll go get them for you," Clark said, "Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I'll be back in a bit."
"I'm fine, Clark. I'm not really a kid, you know," Nick replied.
"Well, just until I get back. Afterwards, I'm gonna be the adult, and you're gonna have to come with me whenever I have an errand to run for the next week," Clark said in a stern tone.
"That's fine," Nick replied, "I don't mind having you treat me like a kid for the week."
"Well, you ARE a kid this week, buddy. Anyway, I'll see you at home, and don't forget to hand over your regression gun when I arrive," Clark said before disconnecting the call.