John fought with every ounce of his 13-year-old might, knowing that this wouldn’t end well for him should he fail. Conner, though, thinking that he had much more to lose, placed a decisive blow on his brother’s abdomen. The younger boy keeled over instantly, the wind knocked completely out of him. The two hadn’t really fought like this before, since their age gap previously precluded any real chance of Conner ever turning the tables on John, but now, with that very same age gap, roles reversed, and the stakes never higher…
Conner arose from the bed, Chronivac in hand, as John struggled for breath on the floor beside him. Tears started streaming down the side of John’s face, as he gazed up at the man whom he hadn’t a chance of defeating from the start. He knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Conner sighed, taking in the pathetic sight of his brother, crying in his underwear on the floor of the bedroom that not too long ago belonged to an unassuming 13-year-old. “Johnny, ya know, I don’t love that I have to do this…”
“Then don’t… Please,” John whimpered, finally having had the chance to breathe. “You don’t even have to turn me back. Just leave me like this; I promise I won’t be a problem again.”
“You’re right. I don’t have to do anything,” the young man corrected. “But what I’m going to do is just teach you a small lesson, in case you haven’t learned already.”
“Conner, no, I promise I learned my lesson!” John had managed to scramble to his knees, truly begging for his brother’s undeserved mercy.
“Listen, Johnny. No hard feelings, okay?” Conner got comfortable, sitting at the edge of the bed. “I totally get why you fought me for this. If I was in your shoes, I would’ve been so mad if you took this from me, and I’d probably also feel entitled to have it back… But now that I have it, and now that I know you’ll probably change me back, or worse, if I ever return this to you, I can never let you have this back… I’m sorry.”
Hearing this, the boy’s tears flowed harder. He knew Conner was right. If he’d gotten the Chronivac back, the first thing he’d do would be to regress Conner so that he couldn’t retaliate. Unfortunately, Conner had been granted some wisdom in his artificial age-up, leaving him keenly aware of this.
“I promise this won’t be permanent, okay? It won’t even be for that long. Maybe a week, and then I can make you a kid again, or maybe even a teenager if you’re really good! Then, when I’m off to college, you can grow back up again like normal, and we won’t have to worry about fighting each other for this thing.” It was clear that Conner was discovering this plan as he spoke it into being, and it was even clearer that he was becoming increasingly happy with it, a genuine, hopeful smile spreading across his messily bearded face.
Dejected, John sniffled meekly, wiping the snot from his nose, “Please…”
“Just try to enjoy this. I’ll be a good big brother! Better than you were to me.” Conner finally held the device up to John and began fiddling with the settings. Moments later, apparently not having made too many changes, Conner landed an impactful tap on the screen, and John could feel the odd, unfortunately recognizable sensation that he’d self-inflicted earlier today.
In no time, John’s height had receded to his previous 8-year-old stature, the familiar slimness of his limbs returning, juxtaposed by a swelling in all the cutest places, owing to the resurgence of his baby fat. John’s rapid descent further into prepubescence was marked by a toddler’s surprised yelp when the oversized boxer-briefs gave up the ghost and exposed the little boy’s shame.
Conner couldn’t help but feel enchanted by the adorableness of his little baby bro, and he bent down to tousle the boy’s soft little mat of hair that had lightened considerably from its usual black.
John recoiled from the touch and thrust his pudgy hands down to his shrinking privates, ashamed that his once little brother was seeing him like this, so vulnerable and helpless.
As the diminishing of his features seemed to slow, John watched curiously as the boxer-briefs defied gravity to take their place back on his body, seemingly serving only to dwarf most of his body within their loose confines before momentarily and drastically shifting, their legs disappearing, color bleaching, form shrinking, and material thickening. Right before his eyes, the teenage underwear had morphed ceremoniously into the very symbol of his new status, and the diapered 2-year-old stood, aghast, as he took in the severity of the changes.