Oliver sniffled and pleaded silently with his big nephew as he stared up into Jackson's uncertain eyes, the conflicted expression on the man's face giving the boy just the barest glimmer of hope that Jackson would realize how wrong all of this was, that his uncle wasn't supposed to be a whimpering, sore-bottomed little boy, that he'd understand the consequences of what he and Connor were doing before -
"It's nothing," Jackson shook his head. "Let's go."
Connor grinned at his brother as he followed him into the hall, leaving Oliver to stand there numb and disbelieving as he listened to their big grown-up footsteps grow quieter and quieter until the opening and closing of the front door drove home the message that they had really gone. Oliver didn't move. What just happened couldn't have happened. Everything that had occurred since he found that stupid ring was just a bad dream that he was going to wake up from at any moment. It was tempting to give into those thoughts, to simply crawl into his bed and let the thick, warm covers smother all his fear and anger and shame. Just a bad dream, little boy. Go to sleep and everything will be okay when you wake up.
Oliver sniffled and wiped his eyes wife the back of his arm. Much as he'd like to be in any reality but this one, he knew that there was no escape from dealing with what he'd started. The persistent sting on his bottom kept him in the moment, the boy reminded with each little movement of just how small and helpless he was and how that wasn't going to change unless he did something about it. A few deep, shuddering breaths later he finally calmed down enough to at least apply some conscious thought to his situation, to think about what he had to do to solve the impossible problem he had been handed.
The authority his nephews had radiated when they had been around had all but forced him into the thought patterns of a little boy, simple and submissive and concerned only with what he had to do to get Connor to stop spanking his bottom, with what he had to do to be a good boy. It was with a whimper that Oliver realized that that mindset hadn't left him entirely - that a little voice was whispering in the background as he formulated a plan, telling him that he'd better do what his big nephew said unless he wanted to end up over Connor's knee and back in the corner again. He wanted to believe that it was merely just a response to his having gone through something so humiliating - something only a naughty little boy experiences - but on a deeper level he feared that that wasn't the case. The details of his cute little body were becoming more and more normal with each passing second. Without even realizing it he'd stopped worrying about covering himself up when no one was around, stopped marveling at the impossible size of the world that surrounded him, stopped thinking of Connor and Jackson as giants but merely...grown-ups.
The voice in his head was that of a child.
Oliver shivered, shook his head, and walked tenderly over to the Pokemon briefs Jackson had left on the floor. He frowned as he slid them up his skinny legs, grateful to have at least that little bit of decency but all too aware of how humiliating it was that said decency was provided by a pair of tiny cartoon undies that fit him perfectly. His thoughts came through a bit more clearly now that he was no longer naked, but the difference wasn't particularly great considering the childishness of his attire (and the fact that having the undies on only made him more aware of his bottom's radiating sting). He was at least clear-headed enough to realize that his nephews had taken his wallet and keys and phone, so that cut off several means of escape right there. No way to call anyone for help or to drive to someone who could assist him - though he was certainly too short to reach the pedals anyway, the boy realized with a rueful snort.
What was he going to do? He couldn't let Connor and Jackson stay out there for long - at some point someone who knew Oliver was bound to see them and know that there wasn't supposed to be two of him. The boy reckoned he could figure out where they'd gone - he hadn't heard his car leave the driveway and there were a handful of places nearby that they loved to go to as kids. Heading out, however, meant that he'd have to be at least somewhat more decently attired than he was right now. He frowned as he eyed the tiny piles of clothing his nephews had left behind. They'd be small on him, but maybe he could squeeze himself into a set - or maybe he'd be better off sneaking over to the house a couple doors down and swiping a new outfit. The boy who lived there was about his current age and almost certainly had clothes in his size. Better still might be to wait until his sister got back - he wasn't exactly feeling capable of tracking down and subduing two adults at the moment, clothed or not. That course of action, however, meant more time with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him - thoughts that were growing simpler and more innocent every minute.