Tyler rested his muzzle on his paw. He didn't want to speak with fellow clients immediately as he was under the impression that he had too much to learn about foreign customs. Instead he scanned the various choices displayed on his PC monitor, knowing full well that he could change almost anything about himself.
Though, he wasn't exactly unhappy. Of course, he was quite strange in certain aspects. When he lived among his littermates in his pack at the canid sector of Merneria, he was often teased playfully by his siblings. Always offering to care for the youngest and remaining behind to prepare supplies and fix toys while other males were busy constantly sporting with one another or competing in academics or politics. "C'mon, Ty, males don't rear cubs! That's fem duty!" he would remember. The fems themselves weren't rejecting of his help and even considered his tenderness for cubs and parental gusto to be a turn-on among a few of them. Their advances were usually lost on Tyler and he was further ribbed for being ignorant of pheromone output and mating techniques. Fully complicit, Tyler was simply unmoved and only cuddled up with another if they needed a shoulder to cry on or were being welcomed into the pack. In those instances, Tyler would customarily rub his scent onto them and vice versa. Even so, it was common pack socialization to tease one another. Tyler remembered briefly mocking a cousin of his who proclaimed that for some reason he preferred the company of other males to bitches during the period of climax.
The one detail that bothered Tyler about the situation was that his pack was united by veneration and appreciation of the husky goddess of fertility and reincarnation, "Nascia". Shouldn't all of his pack share their commitment to the spirit of parenthood? It was a somewhat defunct religion if not an example of their culture. Irrelevant as the opinions of his siblings and packmates were, he was glad to be by himself and introduce himself to a new pack that shared his interests through the connectivity of the colonial network.
As he imagined playing with himself for the night, trying out various ages, making himself middle-aged or an infant again, changing his species, experiencing life as a bitch, looking at the world through the eyes of a four-legger, and combining these, he was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. Tyler removed himself from his computer, stretched his body erect to relieve his spine, and answered the door again.
On the other side was his college roomy, Song Lu. Song was a male tiger the same age as Tyler and notorious on campus for his flirtatious tendencies among fems of other species. He stood perhaps an inch taller than Tyler and was coated by a rarer dark orange most resembling a candle flame. The flames were broken by even and prominent wisps of black stripes that dashed his whole body. His eyes were a glowing amber and his hair a jet black wave cut shorter than Tylers but mimicking the flowing motion. Being health conscious, he was reasonably toned at perhaps the expense of his studies. He was a B to B+ student in architecture. He wore baggy street pants, and a blue shirt with sleeves extending to his elbows. Song bowed politely with a grin, flashing his captivating pearly-whites, "Tyler, my friend. A month at best. May I have your permission to enter?" Tyler chuckled at this unnecessary formality, "Song, shut up and get inside you know I've been expecting you anyhow."
That was to some extent the truth. Song and Tyler frequently visited one another while on Summer vacation. Tyler preferred that Song stay and remain at his abode, though, for Song Lu was a victim of constant misfortune throughout his life. The hovel he struggled to maintain on a minimum wage paycheck was proof of this. He had no leftover money from his parents to buy a more luxurious habitat having made it to the university in the first place through a wrestling scholarship. Raised by a lone mother who was unsure of his father, Song was faced with the constant threats of bullying in his school days, economic strife at home, and defeating boredom. During puberty, when he blossomed into an enviable prettyboy, he became quite popular among the fems (and a select few males). Usually, he made no effort to strengthen these superficial relationships. His only true source of comfort was Tyler's pack, which treated him almost like a wolf himself due to his consistent appearances. Tyler's elder brother once remarked, "It's a wonder he doesn't whine instead of purr!" Many nights Song would lay curled next to Tyler amid the pack in their sleeping chambers chatting and socializing into the late hours and enjoying a friendship which remedied the sting of their hardships. It was Tyler's pack which would frequently offer financial aide to Song Lu and his mother, though it was rejected out of pride. Tyler hated to see such an easy, polite, and simple soul such as Song denied a higher status and wanted to keep him close.
Song Lu grinned, "Thanks, Daddy." "Stop iiiitttt," Tyler groaned. Song Lu was aware of Tylers powerful sense of protection and paternity and after numerous efforts of Tyler to defend and support Song, he would sometimes address the wolf as "Daddy." Tyler and his Alpha had been the only positive male influences in his life anyhow. "If you keep calling me that, you're going to slip in public and people will think that we run together," "Don't we already?" Song smirked and raised his eyebrows. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Song. I don't want any false implications." Song shrugged, "I've called you Daddy since high school and never slipped in public." Tyler crossed his arms, "Oh yes you have! Remember on the day of the water festival, when you where sugar-high and leaped on me from behind? 'Oh, Daddy what a time!' All of those fems stifling giggles?" Song blushed and shook his head, "Everybody worth caring about knows that I only respond to female pheromones."
Tyler sighed and gave it up, "You can crash on the couch. There's food in the fridge, I'll fix you up." "No," began Song, "I'm staying at the motel across town. I won't bother you in your new home." Tyler cut his eyes, "I won't have it. No mangy hotels or motels for you. If there's anybody I want as a guest it'd be you." Song grinned, "I can't always depend on you, Tyler. Sometime I'll have a job and be out of your way." Tyler forced a smile. Song really couldn't go anywhere. His home was not only a pit but laden with backed up taxes and mortgages. Song was not able to handle the stress of acquiring a master's degree, and could only at best live as a low paid contractor on Merneria. He wanted better for the feline. He wanted to always be there for him. But Song was no kitten anymore.
Song himself knew his situation was depressing, but saw no honest path of escape.
Song turned his attention to the chronivac and pointed with his index finger, "Hey, Ty, what's this? Some form of new printer? Dwarf-make right?"
The solution hit Tyler immediately. It wouldn't become of him to baby Song UNLESS Song was a baby. He had discovered a selfless and practical use for the chronivac. He would make Song his child. Make him a cub again. His very own son to grant a new chance at life, or if Song so desired, an entirely new existence entirely. Tyler leapt in the air with ecstasy, "It's a chronivac!!" he exclaimed.
Song stepped back with a muddled look on his face. "Chronivac? A vacuum cleaner?" "NO NO NO!" Tyler passionately corrected, It's a machine that changes reality itself! I didn't believe it. I couldn't, Song, but I clipped my fur and used it to grow it back instantly. I made myself YOUNGER! Song, this thing can change just about anything! You won't have to worry ever again!"
Song cocked his head to the side, "What in the blue hell are you yammering about?" Tyler pulled him by the paw to the computer and initiated the pre-programmed introduction. Song read, and burst out laughing. "Oh ye gods Ty! Are you that gullible? I know you're into that weird kinky stuff but you think it's real now?!"
Tyler scowled, "Song, I told you it worked! Look, I'll shave my fur again." Song raised a paw and sat on the couch, "No, my friend, no, I must feel such a thing for myself." He sarcastically began. Tyler was annoyed but pretended to be unaware, "Is that what it will take?" Song raised an index finger vertically, "You claimed that you could solve all of my problems right? You like that AR/AP junk right? We'll prove it to me. Make me a cub again." Tyler's muzzle opened in a smile and his tongue lolled out the side, "Seriously!?" Song arrogantly continued in a slightly condescending voice, "Why not? You were always like a father to me anyhow. Let's make it official." Tyler laughed in his head, Song was in for the shock of his 9 lives, "And how young shall I make you? Want to be a teen? A tween? A younger boy?" Song leaned forward, "Make me an infant, a nursling kitten. That's what you really want, right? A baby cub to pamper? Try me," Song was still confident in his position, though Tyler's unyielding belief was somewhat disturbing.
"You asked for it, son." Tyler said with a higher pitch falling on the word 'son'. He bent over the keyboard and wrote in the command prompt.
[Subject in question: Male tiger designated Song Lu. Change: Physical age regression. Mental state untampered. Reduction: Subject to be de-aged to 6 months, state of infancy. Period of effect: 5 hours.]
Tyler's tale wagged furiously as he chose to save the changes. For moment, Song felt nothing and stared at the computer smirking. Tyler impatiently watched. Then, abruptly, Song hiccupped and noticed a sudden lightness in his body. A subconscious realization, a fear ran through him, "Ty-EE!" he squeaked as he hiccupped again in mid speech. Song grasped his throat. His vocal chords were fluctuating. His body was shaking, his organs felt as if they were compressing, his teeth began to place pressure on his gums. A great change was begun. Song's eyes widened and even in the courageous eye of the tiger, a glimmer of fear shone bright, "TYLER!!" His bones seemed to relax and diverge. Tyler looked on, breathing heavily.
First, Song began to lose his adulthood. His body's tone became somewhat lankier and his features more even as he passed through 24 to 21. His hairdo flipped like an orgy of worms and tickled his scalp as the strands apparently forced their way back into his head, only to be replaced by somehow familiar weights. The regression sped up, he was loosing height. As his harder features began to soften, he passed into the teenage years below legal adulthood, into 19 and soon thereafter 16. Song's shoulders were aptly less pronounced and the scruffier hair on his body tamed. His muzzle took a more even shape. Trying to speak, he found the changes were too fierce. Now becoming distinctively immature, Song passed through adolescence into from 15 to 13. An evident cub, Song's feet had retreated from his sandals and hurried into his already loose pants. At the same time, his arms were being swallowed by his shirt's sleeves in addition to the loss of the pronounced muscle mass. In fact, across his body the fat-muscle ratio was evening to provide energy mistakenly for a growing boy.
Worse yet, Song knew the trials of puberty in reverse. His penis lost mass and the immediate deflation and recession of his testicles created an itchy tickle in his groin. His secondary sexual characteristics became less pronounced and his center of gravity moved lower when his face rounded out and limbs lost lankiness. The boy could now see down the neck of his shirt and view his chest perfectly fine, "Tyler! What's happening!?" His voice cracked from a characteristic deep and into the falsetto of a child. His speech carried the whining trait to suit his age confirming the answer to his rhetorical question. He was having his request and Tyler's dream granted. Song again lost height as more dramatic changes continued. His adult teeth, powerful carnivore's equipment, sank into his gums in the opposite procedure by which they came into his muzzle. They were replaced by more fragile, but somewhat sharper milk teeth, the kind that allow a cub to become used to harder food and in ancient times signified that one was ready to be weaned. His mane of black hair receding into his skull continuing their erratic dance and assimilating into a style befitting a young minor as 12 turned to 8.
Tyler's heart raced and he knelled down to get a greater vantage point. On his haunches he moved closer to Song, preoccupied by his backward aging. "You're getting there. The road is long but you're almost home," he whispered." To this, the tiger boy now fidgeting with feet above the knee joint of his pants and hands barely extending to the opening of his sleeves helplessly whined, "Ty...ler. Thisiz not right. I can't go backwards! Conservation of mass! Make it stop!" Tears produced by his fragile emotional system blurred the vision of the amber gems that were his child's eyes. A kitten hadn't the control. A kitten knew no better felt emasculated when 7 descended into 4. Tyler was sickened when he witnessed his dearest friend crying and slid closer. He bent over and rested his now gigantic paws on Song's thin shoulders, "I can't stop it. The changes are saved and cannot be undone until the transformation is complete." Song listened attentively. He was not angry at Tyler, only afraid and confused. Tyler continued, "As for the law of conservation of mass, there's something in the FAQ somewhere that describes a production of cells having larger telomeres or something. I'm no biology major so don't ask me. But, what does it matter? It's happening to you and it's very real. Soon, I will give you a chance to see my plans." Tyler grinned when Song's crying silenced. Song knew Tyler would never hurt him, but that Tyler seemed to be misguided somehow. He gave Tyler a weak smile.
That is until his changes neared completion. Childhood ended once more through a reverse process and Song shrank again becoming a toddler. The feline body was fastly regaining infantile traits, his teeth all but gone, his headfur fading into a collection of tufts, his muzzle acquiring a perfect distance from his skull, the wide eyes and high forehead, the bones naturally broke apart into numerous joints and flexible joints giving his body the essential chubby rolling shape, and his tongue was relatively swollen in reference to the rest of his mouth. He could no longer speak clearly and regressed in size to the point where his rump sat on the hips of his pants blanket by his boxers and the shirt he wore concealed his entire top before pooling around him. The neck fell like a hoop down to his waist, leaving the 2 year old kitten naked from the waist up.
"Tyoo, I gan fik rii." He whined being less able to consent rate with such a smaller brain and conflicting child/adult psyches. Again, he started to sniffle. Tyler all the while was frozen in awe at this fantasy made real when he recognized how close he was to sharing his life with a friend he so cherished as the cub that was and empty hole for so long. His eyelids narrowed in preparation for joyous tears and he placed his palms under the arms of the cub and raised the yearling into the air before him.
Song was gorgeous. The sweetest kitten Tyler had remembered seeing. Every feature conspired to release the fatherly instincts latent in the wolf liberally. The still uncertain infant's sniffling soon became an estranged wail, encompassing the mewling of a cat with the plaintive cries of an infant. Tyler held Song at a distance until the regression was complete. He took note of every phase. Song slid through the months of 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, and finally 6.
At the conclusion, a cub displaying an adorable round and even body remained. His black hair had arranged itself into a barely noticeable cowlick and only his canine teeth were left in his perfect little muzzle. His beautifully lean and wiggling legs swam in the air, and Tyler smirked at the diminutive member and sack that comprised what were once an impressive pair of reproductive equipment. The tail fidgeted in front of his smooth and pronounced buttocks and his fur itself had become smooth as new silk.
Tyler's eyes wet with tears, lowered the puling babe to his chest and soothed it. "Song, Song, your Daddy's right here for you. I'll make everything better, I promise." Song's breathing evened as he struggled to maintain control of his temper. Tyler's heartbeat was a miracle. It moved to the rhythm of his own tiny heart and brought him peace. Now, exhausted from his fit, the cub peacefully gnawed the ridge of his paw and nodded off into a total sleep.
Tyler licked his son as he started to shut down. He inhaled the sweet smell rising from the back of Song's neck and familiarized himself with the boy's scent. It was strong and relaxing, so his tongue probed and massaged the infant. In Song, a sense of dependency grew, and in his new father, strong protective obligations.
Continuing to groom the tiger, Tyler swaddled the babe in his old shirt, it being soft enough to serve as a blanket. He then settled himself on the couch and joined his long awaited baby in the world of dreams, the scent engraved in his mind.