Evening had settled into the house, blanketing it in a calm hush. The glow from the television flickered softly over the living room. Zoey sat comfortably on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, gently stroking toddler-Sara’s hair as she slept with her head in Zoey’s lap, pacifier bobbing rhythmically.
Jeff, oblivious to what was about to happen, stood by the dining table, pouring himself a glass of soda. He took a sip, then let out a tired sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “This day’s been insane,” he muttered to himself, casting a glance back toward the couch.
Zoey smiled serenely. “Tiring?”
“A little,” Jeff admitted. “But worth it. Seeing Sara like that is just…” He trailed off, searching for the word.
“Peaceful?” Zoey offered.
Jeff nodded. “Yeah. It’s like all the stress just disappeared from her.”
Zoey looked down at the tiny girl in her lap and tucked a blanket more snugly around her. Then she glanced at Jeff again, thoughtful. Her fingers tapped lightly against her thigh.
He had no idea what she was planning.
Ever since the Chronivac had transformed her into a confident, capable 44-year-old woman, something had awakened in Zoey. Something nurturing—but also curious. And quietly, as the hours passed, a small seed of mischief had taken root.
Jeff had always been in control. He had run the program. Chosen the settings. Directed the changes.
But now she wondered… what if she flipped the dynamic?
What if, without even realizing it, he was the one being changed?
The Chronivac was still connected to the laptop upstairs. She had left it running—just in case. Earlier, while Jeff had been distracted, Zoey had silently brought up his profile on the software and set the Age slider all the way to 0 months. She left the setting unsaved.
Until now.
Without a word, she opened the Chronivac remote on her phone, which synced seamlessly to the main system. She thumbed through the interface silently while Jeff settled on the couch beside her, stretching his arms with a soft groan.
She looked over at him, sweet as sugar. “Tired, honey?”
Jeff yawned. “Yeah. I could sleep for a week.”
Zoey smiled gently, hiding the confirmation screen behind her phone’s dimmed brightness. “Maybe you should,” she murmured.
And with a small, almost invisible tap…
Save.
The device hummed quietly in the other room.
Jeff shivered slightly. “Did you… feel that? Static or something?”
Zoey’s smile never faltered. “No. You okay?”
He blinked a few times. “Yeah. Just… kinda dizzy all of a sudden.”
It started small—almost unnoticeable.
He shifted in place on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “Ugh… I feel weird. Heavy. Like… fuzzy-headed.”
Zoey gently eased Sara off her lap and turned toward Jeff, her voice tender. “Just relax, sweetheart. Take deep breaths.”
Jeff leaned back, unaware that his regression had begun. Slowly, subtly, his features began to soften. His skin took on a smoother, more delicate texture, the fine lines of teenage stress vanishing. His stubble receded from his jawline, fading into nothing.
He scratched his arm absentmindedly. “Why do my clothes feel… itchy?”
Zoey’s voice was honey-sweet. “You’re just winding down. You’ve had a long day.”
Jeff chuckled weakly. “You sound like my mom.”
She leaned in and whispered, “That’s because I am.”
He frowned, confused. “Huh?”
But the changes were moving deeper now. His shirt sagged around his shoulders as they narrowed imperceptibly. His collar dipped, exposing more of his now-smaller neck. His chest rose and fell faster—his body’s metabolism already speeding up in response to the regression.
His jeans bunched oddly around his waist, slipping slightly. He adjusted them without thinking, distracted by the growing fog in his mind.
Zoey studied his expression as it began to shift. Confusion crept in first. Then hesitation. His words slowed, losing clarity.
“I… um…” he began, then stopped. His brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t remember what he was about to say.
“You okay, baby?” Zoey asked, gently running her hand through his hair.
He blinked. “I dunno. My… my thoughts feel funny.”
His body was continuing its slow retreat. His legs drew up involuntarily, feet dangling just above the carpet. His hands grew smaller, fingers rounding, palms softening into infantile pudge.
Jeff looked down at his hands in growing panic. “Wh-why do they… they wook… diffrent—?”
His voice cracked mid-sentence—suddenly thinner, higher, unsteady. His lips parted as he struggled to speak, but the words were now harder to form.
Zoey leaned close, her tone warm and calm. “Shhh. You don’t need to talk now, baby boy. Just let go.”
“B-but… I… I…” His words came out slurred, toddlerish. He was shrinking rapidly now, body compressing into the couch cushions, bones becoming softer, joints more rubbery.
His hoodie began to drape over him like a blanket as his entire form slid past preschool size, then into the single digits.
He whimpered. “Z-Zo… Zowie… me no feel good…”
“You’re doing just fine, sweetheart,” she whispered, gently easing him down onto a pillow. “You’re almost there.”
Tears welled up in his eyes—not from pain, but from pure emotional overwhelm. His brain was rewriting itself, stripping away memory, ego, vocabulary. His thoughts were scattered now, fragile, brief. He couldn’t remember why he had been worried.
He couldn’t even remember what “worried” meant.
His arms waved weakly, uncoordinated, as his chest shrank and his belly puffed outward, rounding into the softness of a newborn.
His final words—if they could even be called that—were a high-pitched babble. “Gah… guh… uh…”
And then, silence.
Zoey reached down and lifted the tiny, naked newborn boy from the folds of his clothes. His tiny body was still, his eyes wide and unfocused. He let out a small cry—loud, shrill, helpless.
“Shhh, shhh,” Zoey cooed, gently cradling him against her chest. “It’s okay, my little Jeffy. Mommy’s got you now.”
He gurgled softly, pressing his face against her shoulder. His tiny hands grasped at her sweater, no more than instinct.
No thoughts. No memories. Just need. Warmth. Safety.
Zoey rocked him slowly, smiling down at her second baby of the night.
“My sweet little boy,” she whispered, “you didn’t even see it coming.”
She glanced across the room at Sara, still asleep and blissfully unaware that her former best friend was now her baby brother.
Zoey kissed the top of Jeff’s soft, downy head. “Don’t worry. Mommy will take care of everything now.”