Josie and Joe Bob "J.B." DiMarco sat on the couch in their living room, enjoying some nice, soft ice cream and watching some TV. They lived in a cozy and extremely well off gated community with a large number of other rich folks likewise occupying their neighborhood, their estate standing about five stories tall and towering above the surrounding area - casting a wide shadow that only became more imposing as the day went on. At about noon, the shadow of the house stretched across the lawn, to the local playground, and then across to the local businesses that pretty much existed to serve the wealthy residents of the suburb. Out of all the residents in this New England community, they were among the wealthiest, though - their place was the envy of the other residents, and consistently they had the best parties and were regarded as pillars of the local community.
Joe Bob contributed at church, he gave to the local schools and learning programs, and he was known around the suburb as a strict but loving father that commanded the respect of his two sons, Eric and Luke. Sure he apparently drove them pretty hard to succeed in school, but as far as anyone knew, they were a happy family. There was never so much as a police call from the home, never a loud argument nor a huff out to the car. He was a tall, stocky man with a thick white beard, a shiny bald head, and light blue eyes.
Josie likewise cooked for the local church, was known around the area for her calm and welcoming demeanor, and maintained good relationships with the neighbors. She would be the one to organize get-togethers around the neighborhood, usually around holidays and certain weeks during the summer. If Joe Bob was out of the house on duties at the church or in the business, it was Josie who kept order around the house. She was a thin, homely woman with long brown hair, brown eyes and a light tan.
All told, they seemed to be the picturesque family. Someone might've said once upon a time; "Be more like the DiMarcos, and less like the Simpsons". They were almost like they emerged from a Norman Rockwell painting. Sure, the family's wealth was tied up in less than wholesome things.
Some people tried to make something of the fact that Joe Bob owned a commanding stake in a social media corporation that facilitated some decidedly unfriendly dialogue. But every time that it was brought up, Joe Bob just made a grand "golly gosh" display of embarrassment and admitted he was just so darn endeared to the rights to free speech that he just couldn't bring himself to censor anyone. As far as he was concerned, all the vitriolic dialogue on there was just...just proof!
Proof how great America was, that so many people could be disagreeing so much on there and they could still all live there together. Like brothers. Like brothers indeed. Sometimes, he'd throw in some holy-rolling language too, to best sell the image of what the family was, and who they were versus the kind of people "makin' hay about nothin'."
Yet today, as two sets of footfalls echoed down the stairs leading up to the second floor, something was different. There was a quiet across the house that normally seemed so vibrant and full of life. The elder of the two sons led the way from the second floor. Luke DiMarco was the athlete of the boys. 20 years old, Luke was the leader of the two - a handsome, well muscled young man, beloved by the local young women and crushed on by the so inclined local young men. He had neat, well combed brown hair, his father's light blue eyes, and a nicely tanned, bronzed skin color from numerous days spent on the porch by the pool in the back.
Luke carried his laptop in his hands, the screen open and on, a bright blue screen visible to the two brothers. Marching shortly behind the young athlete and looking at their laptop and the screen located therein was Eric DiMarco. Officially, he was the brains, the scholar, the good boy that contrasted the slightly edgier Luke. He was however only slightly smaller than Luke, every bit as toned and muscular, and the front was by and large one he had reluctantly played into. His hair was wavier, thicker, slightly messier. His eyes were light, amber brown.
Most days, they would be all business. Their button up shirts done up, and wearing freshly pressed jeans and sneakers. Today however, both brothers' shirts were opened up. Every button popped, and both were only wearing a pair of shorts besides their shirts. A quick glance from Eric to Luke, and then a quiet nod from the latter. An affirmation that they had made their decision, and they would see it through to the end. Not a single disagreement was raised. It was more a sense of confirmation of commitment by the two of them.
They were going to make their bed, and then sleep in it.
Privately, their parents were anything but good. They knew them as strict authoritarians, as forbidding them from certain friends, from certain relationships. Every night, they would be fitted with a certain kind of harness, to best prevent them from certain "disgusting passions" young men were given to in the dead of the night. Life was lived in such a way as to honor the God of their ancestors, rather than honoring who they were as people.
"Do...do you wanna do it?" Eric asked, biting his lip. Still nervous. He didn't even know if this was gonna work! He'd heard stories. Heard the horror stories of that kid out in the boonies who like, ended up trapped as a donkey or something. But that this could solve their problems all at once, with no need...? "I mean---"
"Nahhh," Luke said as he flipped out a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket, pressing them on with two fingers, "You're the guy with the bright idea. You're gonna be the one to do it, to commit to the bit. You get me, baby brother?" Luke said, clapping his little brother on the shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah I get you." Eric nodded, looking at the bright blue Chronivac software logo and profiles loaded on the software. They had ordered this online, had it delivered to a drop off spot, and then brought it home in Luke's car. Eric's was far too conspicuous, and Mom and Dad were always on the lookout for any kind of dissonance in the younger child. Any hint of further rebelliousness. They had assumed that Luke was long since gone - that as much as he could affect an edgy, jockish front, he was ultimately going to lead the way for the family in the future. Be the next generation of DiMarcos in the church.
They had assumed...in error.
Slowly, they walked into the living room, and stood there, facing their parents looking away from them on the couch. Mom and Dad both focused on their TV Drama instead of what was going on just a good dozen or three feet away, at the entrance to the living room. Even with the shadows cast by the boys, amplified by the midday sun, thrown across the room, flowing across the furniture, chairs and tables.
One last nod from both brothers, and then Eric took the laptop and began typing - looking at their parents rendered as slowly turning images in the Chronivac software. Each of them turned so small and rendered mutable by the machine. Luke looked over Eric's shoulder, one arm draped over his brother's opposite shoulder as he worked, while he likewise pressed against his brother's shoulder with his body as he observed. Eric whispered to Luke, "...Don't hump me, bro."
"I will hump you as I need to in order to see this for myself..." It was all Luke could do not to shout, he was so excited. The grins on the brothers' faces were wild, and their eagerness was palpable. "Can you really blame me?"
"Nah." Eric responded as he finished typing in the relevant changes. All that remained was...a quick tap of his finger and the changes were initiated. Now they just needed to wait. To sit back...and watch...and wait.
Before long, they watched the numbers next to their parents' age listing begin to decline. Their eyes widening, the brothers looked at one another as if confirming they were seeing this for themselves...and the two of them only barely halted before they could clap and enjoy the scene before them. They watched Joe Bob's hair beginning to restore, the man's formerly athletic body beginning to restore in real time as they looked. It rankled the both of them that he used to be something...and thus, they looked forward to the decline.
They watched the numbers on Josie slowly declining, and saw her slowly restoring from a whittled down housewife to someone a bit more vivacious, growing more youthful and vigorous in real time. The brothers chortled and giggled as they watched her form beginning to fluctuate, softer - more athletic - softer - more athletic...representing someone going on an athletic regiment and falling off over time as obligations became more intensive.
It didn't take long for the two of them to realize something was up.
Especially as Josie's bra slipped off of her chest, and Joe Bob was soon swimming in his shirt, his regression taking him from the sterling athleticism of his youth back to the awkward, younger years before he quite had it all together. Josie was shouting, gasping, stumbling over herself as she fell on the floor, stumbled to her feet and then desperately held on to her top as the regression pushed her further and further back.
Joe Bob was immediately furious, then frightened, then looking around, desperately trying to find anyone that might be doing this to him and his beloved wife. And as he looked around, he saw the two brothers. Standing there, triumphant, grinning. Eric was just smiling beatifically, while Luke was just singing to himself "Bye Felicia, Bye Bye Bye~" Joe Bob stumbled over his own clothes, red in the face from anger and humiliation - the boy who crawled out from the clothes, desperately holding on to his boxers was 13 rather than 16.
His eyes were stinging with tears, and yet still registered the rage of an older man. As he reached the brothers, yelling, cussing and screaming, he was met with a kick to the solar plexus from Luke that sent him sprawling to the floor, regressing the whole way down - 13 12 11 10 - and by the time he got up, he couldn't help it. With his body and more importantly his brain regressed that far and biochemically different, young Joey started screaming, crying and begging God to help him.
Saying how it just wasn't fair. That he did everything he did to toughen "them darn boys" up. To make them presentable, good Church boys. But as he laid there, his wife screaming and crying as she regressed every bit as fast and as far, both before long found their speech impaired. Changed by the youth being rapidly forced upon them. A childish alteration to their language. And as Joey started desperately trying to crawl away, he found himself in the tall shadow of Luke.
Arms and legs quickly rendered weaker, ineffective, unsure. The young child wailed and cried as the regression continued. The wailing in two parts as he was joined by his former wife. The young children were fading into infancy, making quite a mess on the floor...which quickly in itself faded away. The last thing they would see on this Earth was the smirking figures of their children. Waving goodbye and experiencing utter catharsis.
The blobs of foetal cells on the floor had no capacity for life outside the womb. And thus, they were rendered invalid as soon as they were exposed to air - yet they continued regressing. Simplifying and returning to a smattering of red tissues and combined clusters of cells. Eventually, they would turn into a simple egg and a single dot of semen. And before long, even that decayed and turned to steam in the air.
The brothers then looked at one another, and both threw their hands to the ceiling and whooped with glee. Eric only did so once. Luke kept on shouting, threw off his button up shirt entirely, and beat his chest like some kind of Tarzan boy. "WOOO! WOO WOO WOO WOO!! We've done it! We got rid of those two! It's done! It's all fucking done!" He then wrapped his arms around Eric's shoulders, looking his younger brother in the eye.
"We gotta make some calls." Luke grinned, leading the way out to the patio deck by the pool to make the relevant calls, "Officially, our parents are missing. Officially. We just gotta wait a little while to have em declared legally dead, and then we can just go right ahead and inherit the business, inherit the life insurance shit, and inherit the other properties."
Following his elder brother out on to the porch with the Chronivac still open on the laptop, Eric sat it down on a bench by one of the lawn chairs, throwing off his own button up shirt into the pool and laying down by his brother. "Honestly...I can barely believe it worked. It just seemed like some kind of internet urban legend, you know?" Eric then chuckled, "So uh...now that we don't gotta worry about them monitoring our funds any more...what do you wanna do, bro?"
Luke promptly stood up on his lawn chair and shouted, "THERE'S SOME WHORES IN THIS HOUSE! THERE'S SOME WHORES IN THIS HOUSE! Escorts! What else!? Escorts and booze and fuck it, order some of that expensive fucking pizza from that place down the street!" Luke danced around the patio and sat next to his brother, looking down at the Chronivac software.
"I mean, after we got rid of those abusive fucking slave-drivers, we gotta live it up." Luke grinned, "How 'bout we order some pizza, and then we change up the pizza boy a bit? Or we have some fun with the escorts we have over?"
"Well..." Eric crossed his arms, blushing a little, "I've never really been a whores and drinking kind of guy. But if you want it...I mean, I'd prefer just having an expensive pizza and fuck with the pizza delivery guy kinda night." To tell the truth, he wished he could be as outgoing and fun-loving as his older brother. But years of having "FUN IS SATAN" crammed into his head left Eric with a deep and abiding sense of nervousness about the whole thing.
Luke promptly said, "..."