Macy clung to Jess's blouse, her small fingers curling instinctively as the weight of awareness settled into her tiny body like a mismatched coat. She blinked slowly, trying to focus, to think, but everything felt… thick. Muffled. Her limbs were soft and uncoordinated, and her voice—when she tried to speak—came out small, high, and slurred.
She hated it.
Inside, she was Mason—a 16-year-old boy, sharp-witted, slightly sarcastic, and always in control. But outside? She was a toddler. A girl. A baby who could barely waddle or form coherent sentences. It was like trying to play piano while wearing mittens and being underwater. Frustrating didn’t begin to cover it.
She tried again. “Juh… Juh-Jesh… I-I dun… unner… sstaaa…” Her lips couldn’t keep up with the thoughts racing through her brain.
Jess gave her a soft smile and kissed her forehead, gently shushing her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re still in there.”
That only made Macy’s eyes water with conflicting emotion. She was grateful… and humiliated… and oddly comforted by Jess’s presence.
My best friend, she thought hazily. Now… my mom?
The word didn’t feel wrong. Not entirely. But it was disorienting—like realizing the floor beneath her had tilted ever so slightly, and now she wasn’t sure what direction was up anymore.
Lauren knelt nearby, speaking slowly and softly, as if addressing both the toddler and the teenager inside. “Macy… or Mason, if that’s who you feel like right now… I want to ask something important.”
Macy’s eyes flitted toward her, blinking slowly.
“I know this is overwhelming,” Lauren said gently. “But Jess is… stuck. She's going to be a mother, and she doesn’t have the experience she needs. I can’t undo what’s happened to her until she gives birth. But you, sweetheart, I can change back right now.”
Macy’s body trembled slightly, and Jess instinctively wrapped her arms around her again, steadying her.
Lauren continued, “If you don’t want to stay like this, I’ll bring you back to your proper age and body. No questions asked. But… if you’re willing to stay this way a little longer—to help Jess learn, to give her the experience of motherhood—I would be very grateful. And I know she would be too.”
Jess looked down at Macy, visibly torn. “Only if you want to,” she whispered. “I don’t want to trap you in this.”
Macy whimpered. Her toddler body wriggled uncomfortably in Jess’s arms as she tried to sort through a whirlwind of complex thoughts, limited expression, and big, raw emotion.
She wanted to say something sarcastic. She wanted to make a joke, crack a smile, act like this didn’t affect her. But instead, all she could do was sob quietly, resting her head against Jess’s chest.
“I-I… I stay,” she finally mumbled through tears and hiccups. “Fo’ Jess…”
Lauren’s eyes shimmered. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke Macy’s hair. “You’re braver than you know.”
Macy nodded clumsily, trying to wipe her face with the back of her chubby hand, but Jess caught it gently and kissed her fingers.
“I’ve got you,” Jess whispered, pulling her closer. “I’ve got you.”
Inside, Macy still wrestled with who she was—boy, girl, teen, baby—but in that moment, all she knew was that Jess made her feel safe.
And maybe, for now, that was enough.
Lauren waited until Jess was napping with Macy curled in her arms, both of them breathing in quiet sync on the couch. The sunlight filtered softly through the living room window, casting a serene glow over the unlikely pair: a 28-year-old pregnant woman who was once her teenage son, and a toddler girl with the soul of a confused, stubborn 16-year-old boy.
She stepped silently into the room, gaze lingering on Jess’s face—so peaceful, so calm, so unlike the fiery teenager she’d punished less than two days ago.
Then her eyes fell on Macy. Or Mason.
Even now, her little face twitched occasionally with subtle signs of mental discomfort. That furrow in her brow. The tiny jerks in her fingers, like she wanted to do something more than just lay there. Mason’s pride—Lauren could see it—was still alive and kicking inside that soft baby body. And while she respected his willingness to help, she knew too well the risk that came with letting any part of Mason’s teenage mindset interfere.
Jess needed this to feel natural. She needed to bond with Macy without resistance, hesitation, or confusion clouding the dynamic.
So Lauren gently raised her hand and whispered under her breath, the quiet hum of energy barely audible as the air shimmered faintly around the toddler’s sleeping form.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart… but this is for both of you.”
With careful precision, Lauren layered the alterations:
~A heightened dependency: Not just physically—but emotionally. A subconscious need to be held, soothed, fed, guided. A warmth that only Jess’s presence could provide.~
~Weakened bladder control: Slightly worse than normal infants, ensuring frequent accidents to reinforce Jess’s care-taking role.~
~Baby-like energy levels and sleep cycles: Burst of activity followed by heavy naps, timed perfectly to the unpredictable rhythm of early childhood.~
~Curiosity and attention span: Adjusted to toddler norms—easily distracted, giggling at the simplest things, and fascinated with toys and colors rather than complex thought.~
~Emotional regression: Frustrations and thoughts would be felt, but filtered through a haze—too foggy to articulate or dwell on. Tantrums would replace arguments. Giggles would replace sarcasm.~
She lowered her hand slowly, the energy fading. Macy stirred slightly in her sleep, letting out a soft babble and pressing her cheek deeper into Jess’s chest.
“There we go,” Lauren whispered, brushing a stray curl from Macy’s forehead. “You’ll still be you in there… but now, you won’t get in the way of what Jess needs.”
She stepped back and folded her arms. It wasn’t ideal—it wasn’t fair, and she knew that—but Lauren had made peace with doing what needed to be done.
Sometimes, helping your children meant guiding them… and sometimes, it meant gently removing the roadblocks they didn’t even realize were there.