It was a bright afternoon at the baseball stadium, and Dr. Clowngoggles was in the stands, watching a team of professional baseball players going through their practice routine. The crack of bats, the slap of gloves catching fastballs, and the confident swagger of the athletes filled the air. The scientist watched them with an amused smirk, fiddling with his Yo-Yo Ray. Today, he had something truly fun in mind.
He strolled down to the edge of the field, catching the eye of the team’s captain, a burly man named Jake "The Hammer" Harrison. Harrison, known for his home runs and towering physique, jogged over, curious about the eccentric-looking man with rainbow goggles.
“Need something, buddy?” Harrison asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Oh, nothing much,” Dr. Clowngoggles said innocently, holding up the Yo-Yo Ray. “Just a little demonstration. I promise you, it’ll be a blast!”
Before Harrison could reply, Dr. Clowngoggles aimed the Yo-Yo Ray at the entire team. A brilliant blue beam shot out, washing over the field like a wave. The players froze, caught off guard as the energy enveloped them.
“Hey, what’s happening?” one of the pitchers shouted, looking down at his arms in confusion.
Dr. Clowngoggles cackled gleefully, stepping closer as the changes began. “Oh, don’t worry, boys. You’re about to relive the glory of your youth! But… not quite the way you’re imagining.”
Harrison staggered, gripping his bat as a strange tingling sensation spread through his body. His muscles, once thick and defined, began to shrink. His powerful biceps slimmed down, his thick chest deflated, and his jersey became loose. “What… what the hell?!” he exclaimed, panic creeping into his voice.
“Ah, Jake,” Dr. Clowngoggles said with a teasing grin, “you’re looking a little less like ‘The Hammer’ and more like a little league rookie. Look at those muscles fading away. Soon, you won’t even be able to lift that bat!”
Harrison’s jaw dropped as his legs, once thick and strong, thinned into the skinny, awkward limbs of a pre-teen. His knees knocked together, and his pants pooled around his shrinking ankles. His once imposing stature was vanishing before his eyes. “No! No way!” he yelled, voice cracking as his vocal cords regressed. “This can’t be happening!”
“Oh, but it is!” Dr. Clowngoggles teased. “Look at you now—a scrawny little 10-year-old! I bet the bat feels heavy, doesn’t it?”
Harrison’s hands, now small and pudgy, struggled to grip the bat, which seemed far too large for his tiny body. “I feel… weak,” he stammered, his voice high-pitched and shaky, his adult confidence shattered. His clothes hung off him like oversized rags, and his helmet slid down over his eyes, too big for his little head.
Around him, the rest of the team was in a similar state of panic. A towering pitcher, who had once thrown fastballs at over 90 miles per hour, was now a scrawny, skinny-armed boy, his glove dangling from his tiny hand. He stared at his regressed body in horror. “My arm… it’s so weak. I can barely lift this glove!”
Dr. Clowngoggles sauntered over, grinning. “Oh, poor thing. You’ve lost all that strength and coordination. I’d be surprised if you could throw a ball at 30 miles per hour now!”
Another player, a burly catcher, tugged at his chest protector, which now hung loosely over his tiny, undeveloped body. “I—I feel like a kid again! This can’t be real!” he whimpered, his eyes wide with fear. His powerful, muscular legs had shrunk down into the scrawny legs of a pre-teen, and his once booming voice now sounded like that of a frightened child.
“Reality can be quite cruel, can’t it?” Dr. Clowngoggles said with a chuckle, adjusting his goggles as he admired the transformation. “Look at you! No more muscles, no more power. You’re just a bunch of little boys again! I bet you can’t even catch a ball now, let alone hit one out of the park.”
The players looked around at each other, their faces a mix of terror and disbelief. They were no longer the strong, confident men who had ruled the baseball diamond. Now, they were puny 10-year-olds, overwhelmed by their regressed bodies. Their uniforms hung off their skinny frames like oversized costumes, and their equipment was far too large for them to handle.
A former first baseman, who had once been known for his powerful swings, stood there helplessly, trying to lift his bat with his tiny, trembling arms. “This is insane!” he cried, his voice high and boyish. “How are we supposed to play like this?”
Dr. Clowngoggles laughed heartily. “Play? Oh, boys, you’ll be lucky if you can even throw a ball straight! Why, you’re just a bunch of helpless little leaguers now. No more home runs for you!”
The boys, once professional athletes, now huddled together, their minds swirling with panic as their thoughts drifted backward into childhood. The confidence, experience, and poise they had spent years developing were gone, replaced by the insecurities and anxieties of children.
“I… I don’t know what to do,” one of them muttered, clutching his head as he felt his adult memories slipping away. “I feel so… scared…”
“Scared?” Dr. Clowngoggles said with a mock gasp. “Well, of course, you do! You’re just a bunch of little boys again. It’s only natural to feel scared when you’re small and helpless.”
Another boy, formerly the team’s star shortstop, tugged at his oversized jersey, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wanna go back to normal!” he cried. “I don’t wanna be a kid again!”
Dr. Clowngoggles grinned, twirling the Yo-Yo Ray in his hand. “I'm afraid that's up to me. Not you.”
The boys looked up at him, their wide, innocent eyes filled with fear and confusion, their once-mighty bodies now nothing more than skinny, awkward pre-teen frames.