Farmer Grimroot raises his gnarled hand, his eyes glowing brighter as dark, twisted energy swirls around him. "You think your fancy armor will save you? Let’s see how tough you are as little boys!" he cackles, his voice dripping with malice.
Alex, Luke, and Carl stand their ground, weapons ready, but before they can make a move, Grimroot slams his scythe into the ground. A pulse of eerie purple light surges from the weapon, rippling through the air and wrapping around the three Cyber Space Warriors. The ground beneath their feet quakes as the spell takes hold.
Carl feels the first change. His voice, usually sharp and confident, cracks. “What… what’s happening to us?”
Luke gasps as his armor starts to feel heavier, his limbs shrinking within it. “No… this can’t be good.”
Alex, trying to resist, grits his teeth. “Hold on, guys! We can fight it!”
But Grimroot’s spell is too powerful. The energy binds tighter, like invisible chains, pulling the boys backward in time.
Alex's toned arms and legs, built from years of training, begin to soften and shrink. His once broad shoulders narrow as his chest flattens, and his armor feels baggy against his diminishing frame. His heart pounds faster, his body fighting against the magic, but with each passing second, he feels weaker and smaller. "No... we can't... let this happen!" His voice cracks again, higher this time, the deep tone of a teenager giving way to something softer, more childlike.
Luke’s vision starts to change. His helmet slips forward on his head as it shrinks. He tries to push it back, but his fingers are smaller, less coordinated. “I’m… shrinking…” he says, his usually calm voice quivering with panic. His arms, once long and lean, retract inward, and he can feel his bones shortening. Even his pants bunch up at his ankles, hanging loose on his rapidly decreasing frame.
Carl, meanwhile, feels his legs wobbling beneath him. His once confident stance falters as he loses height rapidly. He glances down to see his boots practically swallowing his feet, and he stumbles, catching himself just before he falls. “Whoa! This is not cool! Why do I feel like I’m back in middle school?” he exclaims, but his voice is now higher-pitched, almost squeaky. His once sharp wit seems dulled by a rising sense of childlike confusion. "I… I don't wanna be a kid again!"
As they continue to regress, their bodies morphing back through puberty, the sensations become stranger. Hair recedes from their legs and faces. Their once slightly rugged teenage features soften, cheeks becoming rounder, skin smoother. The tingling in their limbs intensifies, like a thousand tiny ants crawling just beneath the surface, as their hands and feet shrink even further.
Luke’s voice, now unmistakably that of a young boy, cracks in disbelief. “We… we’re turning into kids!”
Alex feels his armor sagging more and more with each second. His muscles, now almost non-existent, leave him struggling to keep the armor in place. His once deep voice is now a thin, high-pitched whine. "We’ve got to… do something... before we..." But before he can finish, his watch falls off his wrist, too big for his now tiny arm. He gasps, staring at his small, pudgy hand. “No... we’re getting too small!”
Grimroot watches with wicked delight, his laughter echoing through the cursed field. “Look at you now, Cyber Space Children! You can’t fight me in those tiny little bodies, can you? You’re nothing but helpless brats!”
Carl tries to speak, but his once cocky voice now sounds like that of a worried child. "Dude, we're… we're turning into ten-year-olds!" His armor, much too large now, clatters to the ground around him. His once tall, lanky frame is now that of a small boy, his oversized helmet sliding down over his face. “This is so messed up…”
Luke, now barely able to keep his armor on, looks down at himself in horror. His arms and legs are like twigs, and his voice trembles. “We’ve got to stop him, but… how?” He tries to summon his power, but his shrinking body is too weak to handle it.
Alex, now no taller than 4 feet, feels a rush of helplessness. His body has fully reverted to that of a 10-year-old boy—short, scrawny, and completely powerless. His helmet finally falls to the ground with a thud, leaving his round, youthful face exposed. "We’re… kids again…" he says, his once confident tone replaced by a childlike whimper.
The transformation completes, leaving the three former Cyber Space Warriors standing in a pile of oversized armor. Their clothes are loose, hanging off their small frames. Their watches lie on the ground, too big to wear anymore. The wind rustles through the cursed field, and the boys look up at Farmer Grimroot with wide, innocent eyes—10-year-old boys with no trace of the powerful warriors they once were.
Grimroot grins wickedly, leaning down to their level. “What’s the matter, boys? You look a little young to be fighting evil now.”
Carl pouts, trying to sound brave despite his childish voice. “We’ll… we’ll figure a way out of this… just you wait.”
Farmer Grimroot’s wicked grin widens as he watches the three newly transformed boys standing helplessly in front of him, their oversized armor scattered on the ground. With a wave of his hand, the pieces of armor dissolve into the air like dust. “You’re looking a little overdressed for the farm, boys,” he sneers. “Let’s fix that.”
Before Alex, Luke, or Carl can react, a shimmering, dark energy swirls around them once again. They feel a strange pulling sensation, like their clothes are being yanked right off their bodies. Their loose-fitting clothes and the remnants of their armor vanish in an instant, replaced by rough, worn-out overalls. The fabric feels scratchy against their skin, tight against their small, regressed frames. The boys look down in shock—barefoot, dressed only in old-fashioned, tattered overalls that hang loosely off their small shoulders.
Carl stumbles, looking down at his bare feet. “What the heck! We’re dressed like—like farm boys!” His small hands tug at the straps of the overalls, his face twisted in frustration. “This can’t be happening…”
Alex, standing with his hands on his hips, looks horrified. “What are you trying to do, Grimroot, turn us into some kind of joke?”
Luke, trying to keep his cool, adjusts the straps on his overalls. “This isn’t funny, Grimroot! We’ll—" But before he can finish, another wave of dark magic sweeps over them.
Grimroot chuckles darkly, raising his scythe again. “Oh, I’m not done yet, boys. How about we make you sound like you belong on a farm, too?”
The boys suddenly feel a strange tingling in their throats. Carl, who always had the sharpest tongue, tries to shout, “You can’t just—” but the moment he speaks, his voice changes. Instead of his usual quick, snappy tone, a thick southern drawl spills out. “Y’all can’t jest go an’ do this to us!”
He freezes, eyes wide with shock, his hands clamping over his mouth. “What… what did ya do to mah voice?!” he cries, the thick twang unmistakable. His words drag out lazily, and he tries again. “I ain’t soundin’ like no dang country bumpkin!” But with each word, the accent only grows stronger.
Alex and Luke glance at each other in panic. Alex tries to talk next, his heart pounding. “We ain’t gonna letcha get away with this, Grimroot!” But as soon as the words leave his mouth, he hears the unmistakable drawl. He looks horrified. “No way! Ah sound like… like a lil’ farmhand!”
Luke, ever the logical one, tries to resist, speaking slowly. “We… we can’t let this happen… no sirree…” But even he isn’t immune. His voice drips with a country twang, sounding more like a young southern boy than the level-headed warrior he was moments ago.
The more they talk, the worse it gets. Their words become slower, their sentences filled with slang they never used before. “Grimroot, we’re gonna whoop yer hide!” Carl shouts, but now his voice is high-pitched, innocent, and dripping with country charm.
Alex stomps his bare foot, glaring at Grimroot. “Ya think this here’s funny? We ain’t no farm boys, we’re the Cyber Space Warriors!” But the words come out in a slow, exaggerated twang, and he can’t help but cringe at how silly he sounds. “This ain’t right!”
Grimroot, towering over them, can barely contain his laughter. “Oh, this is perfect! Just look at you! Barefoot little farm boys with those sweet southern voices. You’re not warriors anymore—you’re just a bunch of country bumpkin kids!”
Luke, despite trying to keep a straight face, feels a rush of embarrassment. “We’s gon’ fix this,” he tries to say, but even his own words betray him, the accent now fully taking over. “Ain’t no way we lettin’ ya get away with this!”
Farmer Grimroot crosses his arms, chuckling as the boys stumble over their own words, sounding more and more like rural farmhands with each sentence. “Well now, I reckon y’all better get used to life on the farm. Maybe I’ll have ya workin’ the fields, barefoot an’ all. Y’all look like ya was born for it!”
Alex, Carl, and Luke exchange desperate glances, each of them now fully aware that the more they speak, the more they fall into Grimroot’s trap. Their powerful, confident voices have been completely erased, leaving them sounding like young, innocent farm boys.
Carl, his face red with frustration, grumbles, “This ain’t over, ya hear me, Grimroot? We’ll getcha back fer this!”
But as the boys stand there, barefoot and helpless in their overalls, Grimroot’s laughter echoes across the cursed farm. The Cyber Space Warriors have never felt more powerless—and more embarrassed—than they do now.