A young man and his girlfriend come home for Thanksgiving, but a little sister is hungry for more than turkey. A suspicious story I wrote in a day.
Chapter Description: Shawn and Jennifer come home for Thanksgiving with Jennifer's family, but little sister Melody has something up her sleeve.
“Well, here we are,” Jennifer said, pulling the car to a stop outside her parents’ home. Shawn awoke with a start, and smiled upon seeing the house. They both stepped out of the car and stretched with relief, having spent the long trip in Jennifer’s cramped two-seater. The two were a couple, visiting Jennifer’s parents for Thanksgiving.
Shawn ran a hand through his lengthy, bright-blond hair. It had become somewhat disheveled from his nap in the car, but it was never too tidy in the first place. He was a young man of medium height with a sturdy build; well muscled, but not particularly bulky. His face was handsome, seemed to be always caught smiling, and topped by those messy licks of blond hair.
His counterpart walked over to him and took his arm. She was a good opposite to him. While the women at their college described Shawn’s looks as “exotic”, most men didn’t take particular notice of Jennifer because of her plainness. She was not the least bit unattractive, having both a pretty face and beautiful body, but her mundanely-styled brown hair and conservative wardrobe condemned her to be looked over in favor of more attention-hungry girls.
Shawn embraced her and gave her a kiss. “Thanks for inviting me,” he said. Shawn’s family was vacationing in England for a year, leaving him with no one to celebrate Thanksgiving with. Fortunately, he maintained a good relationship with Jennifer’s family, so she rescued him from having to eat the school’s cafeteria food for Thanksgiving dinner. Shawn was earnestly looking forward to this visit, more so than Jennifer. He got on well with her parents, but he was especially excited to see Jennifer’s little sister, who he regarded as the younger sibling he never had. Having not seen her for over a year and a half, he was anxious to see her again.
They advanced to the door, and it flung open before they even had a chance to knock. Standing there, looking obviously excited, was a young girl who Shawn did not immediately recognize. She was wearing a tight, hip-hugging pair of jeans, a pink babydoll t-shirt that wasn’t entirely covering her bellybutton. She looked to be about twelve years old. After half a moment, Shawn realized it was in fact Jennifer’s sister, Melody.
Shawn was shocked! The Melody he remembered was a little girl, completely innocent, not like the trampy-looking girl before him. Last he had seen her, she was skinny as a rail, and the very picture of the cute little sister. The new Melody was still skinny, and undeniably childish, but was obviously very proud of the new assets her newfound ascent into womanhood had given her. Her shirt was stretched tight over noticeable breasts, and her form-fitting jeans left little of her lithe figure to the imagination.
“Shawn!” she squealed, flinging herself out the door and embracing Shawn in a hug.
“Hey Mel,” Shawn said uncertainly, returning the hug and lifting her off the ground a bit. After depositing her back down, he realized the main reason he didn’t recognize her at first. Up until now, Melody had always worn her dull brown hair in pigtails. Presently her hair was a sort of copper color, and she wore it much shorter and unbraided.
Shawn wondered what her parents thought of her new sensibilities, and then recalled that they never really cared what Jennifer did either. “How you been, Mel?” Shawn asked, still studying the now-unfamiliar girl.
As they made their way inside, Melody filled Shawn in on everything she had been doing since they had last met. As they exchanged stories and caught up, Shawn idly wondered why Melody had decided to adopt such a radical new look, while Jennifer seemed to be content with the same style (or lack thereof) she seemed to have had since gradeschool.
“What do you think of my hair?” she asked suddenly, looking at Shawn hopefully.
“It’s... different,” Shawn said truthfully. Seeing the downcast look on Melody’s face, he added: “but it looks good.” She smiled broadly at this.
Dinner was an uneventful affair. Jennifer’s parents were still the detached robots Shawn remembered them as. After the meal, the household lounged around the living room, watched television, and had some idle conversation until they called it a night.
After she was sure everyone had gone to sleep, Melody quietly got out of bed, dressed, and retrieved a hidden box from inside her closet. She removed the contents: a strange, crude-looking device similar to a nailgun in shape. It was a gift from her uncle Barnaby, a contraption he designed, one that could supposedly change the age of any living thing.
Melody had come to her uncle a month before this day, begging him for help with her troubles. She confessed to him that she had a crush on her sister’s boyfriend, but knew she had no chance with him because of their age difference. His response was this device. Direction her attention towards a group of rabbits he had in his lab, he demonstrated how the machine could reduce the ages of the critters.
“How does that help?” she whined after he explained that he hadn’t finished the other aspect of the device, so the youthening was a one-way trip. “Don’t you have anything that could make me his age?”
He just shook his head and told her to “be creative”.
And “creative” was what Melody was going to be. If she couldn’t make herself the age of her sister and Shawn, she would just make Shawn as young as her.
Lying in the guest room’s bed, reading a book, Shawn heard a light knocking at the door. Thinking it was Jennifer coming around for some fun, he bounded out of bed and quietly opened the door. Much to his surprise, it was Melody that slipped inside.
“Melody? What are you doing here?” he said, sitting back down on the bed.
“I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“Uh, sure, what is it?”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course I like you, Mel, you know that.”
“No! What I mean is, could you like me the same way you like my sister?”
Shawn froze up, and stammered a bit before responding. “You know that your sister and I are boyfriend and girlfriend, right?”
“And do you know exactly what that means?” Shawn asked, somewhat condescendingly.
“Of course I do! I’m not a little girl anymore, Shawn.”
He swallowed hard. On that point she was mostly right. He hadn’t quite noticed, but during their conversation she sat down on the bed and had sidled up next to him. It occurred to him then just how much she looked like her sister at that age: same cute face, same slender frame, same precociously generous breasts. He shook these unwholesome thoughts from his head and pushed himself away from her.
“You’re very young, Mel,” he said. “No, I can’t ?like’ you the same way I like Jennifer.”
“That’s not a good reason!” she pouted, scooting herself over next to him again. She placed a hand on his leg. Shawn felt the warmth of her leg and hand on his thigh through his silky pajama bottom and shivered with excitement. But again he rebuffed her, brushing her hand away and standing up.
“No, Mel!” he said, maybe a bit too loudly. “Even if I wasn’t in love with your sister, no. You’re twelve years old, I’m nineteen. It’s... just... wrong.”
He observed the angry look on her face, and wondered if he was too harsh. Then he noticed the purse she had brought in with her and the object she was withdrawing from it. She stared at the device in her hands for a few moments dejectedly, and Shawn thought to reach out and comfort her, or at least ask what the thing was.
Before he could do either, Melody aimed the gun-shaped gadget at him and said: “Hold still. You won’t feel a thing.” She then pressed a button on the thing, and it gave a sharp beep.
The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, until Shawn spoke up. “What was that?”
“You don’t feel anything?” Melody asked, not sure if the device worked or not.
“Why should I? You said I wouldn’t!” Again: “What is that thing?”
Melody didn’t answer, busy observing her crush for any sign of change. After a couple seconds of searching, she found it. The distinct stubble he had before was all but gone except for some assorted hairs along the lip and chin. Just as she noticed that, she saw that tightly muscled physique was loosening, making his pajama top slacken ever so slightly. And as she watched that happen, she realized his face was subtly looking more “high-schooly” by the moment, and that his shoulders were becoming less broad, and dozens of other differences that proved the device had done its work.
Like a snowball rolling down a white-capped hill and growing cartoonishly large, the changes being wrought over Shawn’s body became more dramatic. His pajama sleeves crept down his arms as he became shorter and skinnier and his pant cuffs traveled down his ankles and to the floor. Melody found herself fascinated as his curious face went backwards through time to all the Shawns he had been: skater senior Shawn, artsy junior Shawn, jock sophomore Shawn, and presently punk freshman Shawn. She giggled, seeing that particular version of him without the spiked green hair.
He was now a fifteen-year-old: still much like his normal self, but with a smoother, rounder face, just a bit slimmer, and in a pair of pajamas that looked like it was a size or two too large for him. “What’s so funny...?” he asked, trailing off. “I don’t feel so great.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt off-kilter. His pajamas weren’t fitting as snug as they were a moment ago, it felt like he was being tickled on his stomach, under his arms and on his chest, and he had the most bizarre sinking feeling.
“Relax,” Melody said, jumping off the bed. Still regressing, Shawn dropped a few inches in height as he made it to middle school age. His changed face and build robbed him of the “exotic handsome” descriptor the college girls would use and left him somewhere between that and the “cute” reserved for boys. As he shrunk from an “L” to an “M”, his pajamas hung slackly on him, no longer tight enough anywhere to give Melody a hint of his physique. The tickling that was plaguing his torso then spread to his legs, arms, and alarmingly, his crotch.
He put that to the side of his mind when he noticed something more unnerving. “Mel... you look taller? How did that happen?”
She chuckled. Normally he stood almost a foot taller than her, this difference had been reduced to about half that. As his sleeves slithered down enough so he could cover his hands in them, Shawn started to panic. “Melody, what’s going on?”
As Shawn’s viewpoint sunk closer and closer to the grinning Melody’s, he started to look himself over to discern what was happening to him. A quick inspection of his hands and arms revealed them to be just as the were when he was thirteen: hairless, thin, and terminating in delicate, unfamiliar hands. He swiftly unbuttoned the breast of his baggy pajama top, and gasped at the undistinguished, smooth chest that awaited him.
He looked back at Melody, who seemed to have grown substantially, now only a meager handful of inches shorter than him. “That device! What’d you do to me?” he asked frantically in a mid-pubescent’s froggy voice. His pants’ scant grip on his diminishing hips gave way, crumpling at his feet and revealing a pair of white-with-red-hearts boxers that hung down to his knees. He hastily bent down and lifted them back up, getting a disturbing look at his hairless chicken legs.
As he stood back up to face Melody again, a peculiar sensation assaulted him. He felt an intense tickling feeling at his groin, enough to make a tense chuckle escape his lips, which was immediately silenced by the sudden and palpable constricting sensation centered on his member. Glancing back at Melody, he found that he couldn’t be more than an inch taller than her.
“Mel...” he said, stopping himself as he heard that his voice had crossed over to the realm of a child’s high pitch. He just stood silent as his height dipped to looking eye-to-eye with Melody, and amazingly, about an inch below it.
She smiled at this and walked over to him. Putting an arm around his shoulder (how unnatural that was to him!) she guided him towards the room’s dresser. “You said it was a problem because you were too old for me...” she said, reaching out for something. Shawn’s stomach sank as it began to dawn on him.
She grabbed the mirror on the dresser and angled it at him. “How about now?”
Looking back at Shawn was himself as a young boy, dressed in a pair of pajamas that hung like a tent on him. He raised a hand to his face, and the twelve-year-old in the mirror did the same. He took it all in: the fresh, boyish face topped by the bright mop of wavy blonde hair, the slight build, the skinny, dainty hands. He looked around the room, first at the Melody who was not so little anymore, to the bed that reached up to his stomach, to the ceiling that looked so much farther away now.
“I’m a kid again!” he said with disbelief.
“No, you’re twelve, same as me...” Melody argued.
“I’m a little boy!” he said loudly, looking back at her with that cute little face. Hearing him say it with that squeaky voice made her believe it. When she imagined regressing him to her age, she had pictured him becoming a somewhat shorter, less hairy version of himself. All she remembered of him at that age was vague recollections of an older, attractive-looking boy that his sister was very fond of. She realized that these memories came from when she was five, of course the real thing was going to look different!
At any rate, she didn’t expect him to be reduced to the skinny, boyish child he now was. Watching him sit on the bed in his pathetically oversized pajamas, she felt a distinct pang of loss for the gorgeous man she had regarded as half hero half infatuation who had entered her home earlier, which was slowly being replaced with affection for the cute, yet almost pitiable boy he had become.
She sat down on the bed next to him as she had done before, sidling up next to him and putting an arm around him. He returned the embrace, to her surprise and delight. “There there, it’ll be alright,” she soothed.
To be continued perhaps