Oliver's heart plunged into the cold pit that had been his stomach when the door to his bedroom opened to reveal two of him - two adult Olivers smirking down at the whimpering little boy in the hall with his hands clamped over his groin, neither man wearing anything but the shirt he had used to facilitate his transformation. If Oliver felt small before he might as well have been infinitesimal now. Every bit of him - save for his burning cheeks - had gone white as he stared agog at the adult bodies that towered over him. Though he knew it was a form he himself had occupied just moments prior, his adulthood felt eons away now thanks to how different his current body - his weak, smooth, adorable little seven-year-old self - felt. Both Connor and Jackson snickered as they took in the horrified, fascinated - perhaps even covetous - look on Oliver's face, proudly showing off their hairy legs and their muscly arms and their big grown-up pee-pees.
"I don't know why you even wanted to be a kid again," Connor chuckled in a horrifyingly familiar voice. "Being a grown-up is awesome."
"Awesome," Jackson agreed. "We're the grown-ups now and we're gonna babysit you."
"Guys..." Oliver whimpered, so ashamed at his trembling tenor - especially with how it compared to his nephews' booming baritone - that he could barely get the words out. "You...you have to stop this...you have to. What do you think your mom would say if she found you guys like this? If you don't turn back right now - "
"Aww, that's so cute!" Jackson laughed as he reached down to tousle his uncle's hair. The boy fumed as his steely eyes brimmed with tears. He wanted to slap his nephew's hand away but didn't dare lose any of the cover over his privates - to say nothing of the fact that the man was so big and radiated such authority that he was certain he'd get in trouble for doing so. "Da widdle boy still thinks he's a grown-up."
"That's adorable," Connor snickered. "Let's see how grown-up he feels when he's fighting the TICKLE MONSTER!"
Their fingers were on him before Oliver could so much as move, twenty adult fingers dancing all over his underarms and his tummy and the smooth soles of his tiny, tender feet. Oliver squealed and kicked and squirmed but there was nothing he could do to resist, barely able to voice his objection to the whole thing for how thoroughly his chirpy little voice had been dominated by high, ringing, uncontrollable laughter. If he tried to get up they just tickled him right back down to the carpet. If he turned onto his tummy they just tickled the backs of his knees instead. If he curled up they simply spread him back out so they could plant loud, wet, long raspberries on his tummy. And all the time Connor and Jackson were laughing too, though their laughter was of a different tenor - their amusement came from how great it felt to be in charge for a change, how invigorating it was to make someone else feel helpless for once. It came from how adorable their little uncle looked as he rolled around on the carpet, red-faced with giggles, skinny legs pinwheeling in the air as his weenie bounced adorably in time with each new futile maneuver.
Oliver knew he had to do something soon, if only for the fact that the threat of suffocating from laughter was growing more and more real with each passing second. His vision, blurred with tears, was nonetheless good enough to see that the ring finger of the hand currently teasing his tummy held the silver band that had done this to him. Knowing he didn't have a second to spare, Oliver snatched at his target and...