Rest & Relaxation

Chapter 3
Uninvited

John and Fred walked with confidence as they turned the corner to where MJ and Felicia had youthened themselves to prepubesence, the chief guards in Yamamoto’s hire. They seemed nearly identical, bulging muscles, bald heads, clich? in their stature but confident in stride. The girls were naked, wrestling on top of each other, a pile of lose clothing strewn about the tile floor. Fred deftly reached down and grabbed the two nude girls apart, suddenly distracted by their two new male guests. Felicia and MJ felt very naked and uncomfortable, so they were somewhat relieved to see Fred produce two outfits that seemed to fit the girls. John retrieved the egg, which though fragile had survived the tussle between the girls.

Fred beckoned the shy girls into a small closet space to change into their more appropriate clothing, and then took a seat next to the door to watch guard. Inside, MJ and Felicia stared at each other bitterly, but their desire to cover up their no longer appealing sexual characteristics outweighed their hatred. MJ subtly smiled to see that her dress came with a plain white training bra, sized 32AA, while Felicia’s came only with the same green dress and unremarkable white cotton panties. While they dressed, they looked at each other and were suddenly shocked to find that it actually had happened: they were junior high schoolers again. From the hallway, there came a loud, crashing sound, then some shouting. Though normally either woman could have been brave enough to even investigate the situation, their skinny limbs and light bodies betrayed their courage.

Emma Frost stealthily moved her way through the ventilation of Yamamoto Spas, after rumors came out that their methods could make a body beautiful forever. Her pride overwhelmed her, and helped her justify sneaking in to a place she didn’t belong. After all, if her body looked as killer as it did now, certainly these treatments could make her totally irresistible. Beneath her, she heard what she thought were the cries of two little girls fighting, then taken away.

“Those bastards!” she whispered to herself. They dare treat innocent kids like that? As soon as everything quieted down, she silently removed the ventilation panel and dropped down, her long, smooth legs dropping down to rest on one of the guard’s neck. As soon as he felt this one intimate contact, her boots turned, snapping his neck. The other guard immediately reacted, but was taken aback when Emma Frost’s gorgeous figure gracefully fell out, perfectly juxtaposed with the deposed body behind her. She had full lips, long blonde hair, and Fred couldn’t help but notice she had a more than ample bosom. These feelings quickly subsided, though, and he charged for her, blinded by rage and lust. Emma met these feelings with a quick kick to the head, sending Fred backwards to the floor.

Emma then picked up the egg, figuring it had to be of some importance, and leaned over next to Fred.

“Hey, asshole. Any idea what this thing does?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Shocked, Emma scoffed. “Well, I guess if you want things done right, you have to do them yourself.” While she held the egg over the body of the weakened thug, she noticed her mental curses seemed to fill the egg with green light. Emma saw the egg pulse, and Fred’s body began to melt away. His muscle faded into undeveloped skin, his balding hair returned to the light hazel patch it was in his youth, and his face youthened, no longer surly, but more cute. He appeared to be an overweight college student, swimming in his shirt and pants. And to Emma’s great pleasure, he seemed to have no idea what was going on.

“What am I doing here?” he asked, on cue with Emma’s thoughts. Emma, herself only 22, even seemed a bit older than her counterpart.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” She licked her lips and pulled him up off the ground. The bruise on his face from her kick only moments ago had healed, as if it never happened. Just then, his loss of muscle mass made his pants fall down. He blushed red.

“I’m Freddie. Man, you’re really hot.” Another green flash, and little Freddie converted the last of his youthful muscle mass into fat, turning his black T-shirt once made taught by six-pack abs into a retainer for a huge gut and his fat chest. Emma removed the eighteen-year old’s shirt, revealing a large belly and two breasts that would rival most girls’ his age, but certainly not Emma’s ample E-cup. Emma then teased the boy again by grabbing his package just as another green flash came. She felt his erection shrink from an excited six inches to a paltry inexperienced four.

“I’ve uh, I’ve never had a handjob before...” Freddie’s mental faculty was leaving him, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh at the poor specimen she had created.

“This egg thingy is pretty useful. I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that opportunity, Freddie.”

With a final green flash, Freddie was reduced to a chunky ten-year old, unexcited by the presence of Emma, and confused as to what he was doing.

“Now this has just gotten out of hand.” With a loud clunking noise, the mayhem ended as Emma Frost fell to the ground by a deft blow to her spine from none other that Mrs. Yamamoto.

“Looks like if you want some thing done right, you have to do it yourself.” Snatching the egg from the floor, she returned Fred to his proper age with a red flash. Immediately aware of his lack of composure, he put his clothes back on, and stood before his master.

“Take the two little girls up to the studio. I’ve got personal business with our uninvited guest.”

When Emma Frost awoke from her unexpected nap, she was naked and bound at the wrists and ankles to an upright bed, Mrs. Yamamoto coyly enjoying the view of her enormous breasts and shaved sex.

“Rise and shine sweetie. Seems you decided to steal from me, and we just can’t be having that. Now, normally being just a thief would get you a quick slap on the wrist, but it appears that because you had the gall to taunt my handymen, it appears I’m really going to have to give it to you. Just answer what I have to say truthfully, and I’ll only make you a year younger. If you lie, I’ll just have to shave two years off of your paltry 22.” She laughed with a sycophantic pleasure.

“Look, bitch, I don’t know who you are, or what you are trying to do to me, but you have no right to make me little.”

“Seems you didn’t give my men that right, so you just lost yours. Now then, Emma, so that we may observe your changes, what is your bra size?”

Emma panicked, but was still snotty. “Come over here and figure it out yourself.” Green flash. Emma looked down and saw her large breasts slightly shrink down a little, a slight patch of pubic hair returned as she reached 20, when she still left a little bit of hair on her body.

“Defiance won’t get you any better treatment from me, miss Frost. We know your height, your weight, even the size of your bust from this observation room. So try not to play cute next time, alright?”

“Whatever, I’m half your age and my boobs are still way bigger than yours, lady.”

“We’ll see if that’s true by the time I’m done with you. What were you doing in my facility?”

“I needed to get a facial done.”

“That can be arranged.” Green flash. Emma Frost returned to her high school senior age, where she was shocked to feel a pair of pimples grow in on her chin. She winced. Her parents had paid the best dermatologists to help their little princess have clear skin, but the treatment only started when she was seventeen, so her face still had a few blemishes. She also saw her once abundant breasts raise higher on her chest, melting away into an unremarkable but large C-cup.

“Ohh, didn’t believe I would go this far, girl? Seems your search for a way to be forever beautiful has left you forever little. Didn’t think I could read your thoughts?”

“Read my thoughts? Well then what the hell is the purpose of this little game?”

“My satisfaction, dear.” A blinding green light filled the room.

“This should halve both of our ages.”

Mrs. Yamamoto’s changes were more subtle at first, a few wrinkles leaving her face, her small Japanese figure seeming to lift up, and her humble breasts rising higher, while Emma Frost drastically changed as she entered the height of pubescence. She shrank on the table, her constraints going with her as her height tumbled downward, to a mere 5’4”, her face splotched with red markings, and her nipples turning upward with the signs of breast growth, or more aptly in this direction, reduction. Some of Emma’s memories were going haywire as well as she passed sixteen, her first blowjob and her first C-cup bra that helped her attract that boyfriend. Her breasts became considerably smaller, now lying down on the table they seemed even somewhat flat, her full blonde pubic bush now thinning not due to her shaving habits, but her shrinking age. Yamamoto-san left her thirties, now a thin, beautiful specimen whose small B-cups perfectly matched her youthful Japanese appearance.

“Looks like our chests are just about even now, Ms. Frost. Oops, perhaps I spoke too soon...”

Emma, on the other hand, was having trouble remembering her first high school boyfriend from freshman year. She had big body image problems, and for a rich white girl, having lithe B-cup breasts made her a late bloomer in a school of large breasts and egos made it very hard for her. Though her breasts barely touched the cups, her B-cup bra enabled her to lean over and offer any cute boy a look at her nipples. Nipples became the operative word as lying down; her 32A’s looked nearly flat. She struggled to remember if she had even had her first period by this age. She shrank again, down to just over five feet, her few sparse hairs and just out of training bra sized breasts the only markers of her age.

Mrs. Yamamoto’s regression slowed down as she hit 26, a raw, sexy Asian figure that drove many men crazy, while Emma rocketed back to 9, the last of her breasts and pubic hair gone.

Emma began to wail nonsensically, her eyes red with anger, and her limbs fraught with immobility. Her gorgeous Asian nemesis smiled as she slipped on a pair of black panties and a corresponding black pushup bra. She then slid on a gray dress and grabbed a camera from the ground, snapping a picture of the sobbing Emma Frost, the body she had put so long into achieving now gone, gone, gone.

“Excuse me, girl, but could you wait here a moment? I’ve got a deadline for these photographs.”

The woman slammed the door behind poor Emma Frost, whose spare cries to go back to her true age fell on deaf ears.