James headed home, feeling totally off at the fact that he was almost two years younger than he'd been before his little trip to the woods. He was a little more than three inches shorter, and he wasn't in as good of shape, either. By the time he'd made his way home, he was feeling really grumpy about this whole thing.
Couldn't that jerk have picked something less mean? he thought.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!" James called out as he walked through the door. He flung his backpack into the corner and collapsed on the couch, looking forward to some quality time with his XBox.
His dad walked through the door. "Hey," he said. "We're having the walkers over for dinner tonight, so we need you to clean up."
"Can't I have just a few minutes?" James asked. "I just got home." James felt himself shrink almost an inch as he got younger, and he resisted the urge to curse. His dad had a strict "no swearing" policy, even though James heard him drop curse words all the time.
"Alright, you can take an hour first," his dad said. James smiled in relief. "After that, I need you to do the dishes, vaccuum, sweep, and wipe off the table."
"Seriously? All that? How is that fair? Isn't Karen going to help at all?" James instantly realized his mistake. He knew in his head he needed to stop asking questions, but it was such a deeply burned habit that he blurted them all out before he even knew what he was saying.
James gasped as he lost four inches in height. His clothes morphed, turning into a polo shirt and a little pair of shorts. He was now a thirteen-year-old, and any more regression would push him into the pre-teen realm.
"Karen's got practice," his dad said. James couldn't help but notice that he sounded a bit gentler with him than normal.
I guess he's got more patience with me now that he thinks I'm younger, James thought.
"Right," James said. He frowned--his voice was still kind of deep, but it cracked on the word. Going through puberty backwards was going to suck. "Okay. I'll do all that stuff. Thanks for giving me some time off first."
James's dad ruffled his hair. "I'm going to start cooking, alright?"
James nodded. He turned on a mindless shooter game, which helped him forget about all the regressing nonsense. Before he knew it, his dad called out, "Alright, time's up."
"Really? It's already been an hour?"
Stupid! James thought as he shot down another two inches.
"Yep. Time to get to work!"
"O-okay." James winced. He was a soprano again now, his voice all young and boyish.
James went over to the dishwasher and started pulling things out. Everything felt heavier, and what's more, his reach was much, much smaller. James couldn't even hope to put things away in the higher cupboards.
"Dad? Where do we keep the step stool again?" he asked. He dropped another two inches, and his clothes morphed again. Now his shirt had a T.V. character from some show that he didn't recognize.
"It's by the fridge," his Dad said.
James shivered. "Uh, thanks!" His voice was even higher now. He sounded so little!
It's only been a few hours, and I'm already three years younger. He thought. I need to get it together and stop asking questions.
The step stool became Jame's new best friend. He used it to put away he dishes, then used it while he was washing dishes, and even when he was wiping off the counters and table. His little body just didn't have enough reach.
It took James almost two hours to finish all his chores. He didn't mind helping out around the house, but he kept totally silent, since he didn't trust himself to make small talk with his Dad without asking questions.
"Have you finished all your homework?" his dad asked after James was done with chores.
"Uhm... let me go check." James's backpack was still in the corner, but it was a smaller one now. It had a workbook in it that James didn't recognize, and it looked like he still had some math to do.
"I'll just go up in my room and do it, okay?" James said. He regressed again, now a little bit younger than twelve. The book in his hands shifted, and the math problems became much more basic (not that the other ones would've been hard.)
"That's fine," his dad said.
"Thanks. Uh, cya!" James practically ran to the stairs, eager to be alone where he wouldn't let another question slip.
"Sure. Just come down when the walkers get here okay?"
James stopped in the middle of the stairs. "When are they coming?"
You idiot! he told himself as he lost another half inch.
"In about forty-five minutes."
James flew up the stairs, his legs now short enough that he couldn't take them two at a time. He ran to his room, but when he opened up the door, the place was filled with Karen's stuff instead.
Oh, right. I guess I'm younger than her now, so she would've been put in this room. James went to Karen's room instead. Inside, he found what he figured was his room now. There were posters on the walls of video game characters and T.V. characters he didn't recognize. His bed had a Star Wars blanket, and he even had some action figures on the shelf.
"Ugh!" he said. "Why did I have to be such a nerd when I was little?"
James lost a bit more height, and he shivered. He was totally failing at this. He had a sneaking suspicion that Brandon set questions as the trigger on purpose, since he knew James asked questions all the time.
James sighed and approached the mirror. Now at eleven-and-a-half, he looked so little. His face was all soft, and his limbs were thin and small. James poked his face, trying to believe that he really was so small now.
"Guess I'd better do homework," he muttered. James flew through the math problems like they were nothing--he'd been in Algebra II before, so this middle school stuff was nothing. He also found he had an English essay due soon, so he wrote one up real quick, then did some History reading. It all took him only about a half hour.
Then James laid back on his bed, noting that the thing felt a lot bigger now. Everything felt a lot bigger. He sighed, hoping that Brandon was at least as miserable as he was.
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