"Pull over!" yelled Francisco.
This was so sudden, and his lover sounded so frantic,
that Marco immediately complied by pulling the car onto
the shoulder of the busy highway. "What's wrong? Are
you OK?"
In the dim light, Francisco noticed that Marco's shape
seemed further modified. He seemed much shorter in
his seat. His clothes had begun to bunch up around
him (his shirt gathered at the back of his neck as he
slid down the seat; his pants were both riding low on
his butt and were starting to cover his feet) and his
voice sounded more raspy and insecure--definitely that
of a teenager.
"I'm fine, but I have to tell you something." In a rush,
Francisco told the disbelieving Marco everything that
had happened to him that day --- about the book, the
kids, the age regression --- and then started to gently
break the news that he, Marco, was also getting
younger.
"That's ridiculous," scoffed Marco. He couldn't believe
Francisco had made him pull over just to pull some
sort of stupid joke. But when he moved in a huff to
switch gears, he noticed that the seat was not in the
right position... he was too far back to reach the pedals
and his shirt sleeve was covering his hand. And when
he pulled the sleeve back, he saw the smooth hand of
a young teenager at the end of his now-thinner arm.
"Huh?"
"I told you," said Francisco resignedly. "You've been
getting younger this whole time. Look in the mirror."
Scrambling in his oversized clothes, Marco had to
reposition the mirror. There , in the overhead light of the
car, he saw his face as he looked in high school. Early
high school. And as he looked on in horror, he began to
cross into his middle school years.
To Francisco, seeing such a young boy in the driver's
seat, in oversized clothes to boot, seemed so silly that
despite Marco's trauma, he had to smile. Luckily, the
lad was too preoccupied to see this mirth, but
Francisco never would have been so amused if he
hadn't known he could change his lover back when they
got home. Obviously, one of the spells he had cast
earlier had had a delayed effect, that's all.
"Francisco! You gotta help me!" sobbed Marco, who
was now rapidly de-aging, in a high-pitched voice. The
chubby child stood on the car seat, his pants long since
unwearable. Only the adult-sized shirt provided him
with a robe of sorts. His features were morphing by the
second, while his body got shorter and less defined.
He finally seemed to stop shrinking at about the
five-year mark, and he stood staring at his now-huge
lover forlornly.