A faint glow enveloped the young man and the young boy, and, in their heightened state of suspicion, both of them noticed it.
"Who are you?" demanded Tom once more, with a greater force. Marcus just stood whimpering, fighting back the urge to break down into childish wailing.
"Answer me!" Tom bellowed. Marcus's lower lip wobbled dangerously, indicating an imminent tantrum. Tom sighed, taking his intent gaze of the poor little guy as his mind raced to think off a way to avert that eventuality.
"Look," Tom said softly, smiling a little. "Why don't you tell me your name, and maybe we can find your mommy, okay...?" Marcus's lip was still trembling, although he forced his lips into a little pout.
"...my mommy said I had to meet her," he finally piped up, wondering if he could trick Tom into leaving him alone.
"Yeah, little guy?" Tom said, reaching up to rub his chin; and odd sensation was buzzing through his face, like pins and needles, which he put it down to the fearful adrenaline rush invoked by this situation. Strangely, something actually felt physically wrong with his chin as his hand brushed over it - the stubble that usually covered it felt wrong, somehow, sort of...finer. Softer. It irritated Tom, and he wrenched his hand away to focus on the situation.
"Okay then, where did you mommy say you had to meet her?" Marcus churned internally, just wanting Tom to scram. However, he also felt strangely nauseaous...kind of like the feeling he had experienced a short while before. The realisation hit him like a brick - he must be getting younger again!
"...NO!" he suddenly screamed, pushing at Tom's leg and darting past him at an impressive pace.
"Hey!" yelled Tom, turning to jog after him, but as he did so he realised more than just his facial hair was different - his whole body was tingling now, and looking down at himself he saw some odd changes. His usually tight-fitting T-shirt hung loosely across his chest, and his black cargo-shorts felt strangely loose. His feet no longer felt snug in his boots - his heels no longer felt the usual pressure, and his toes seemed to have a great deal more freedom.
"Come back!" he called after the fleeing child, reaching up to feel his chin again - the hairs, now soft and fine had also become sparser, and shorter. In fact, his chin was largely devoid of hair, as if he had shaved it perfectly, and only the area below his nose felt vaguely mature.
Marcus, on the other hand, was experiencing some very different changes. As he ran, on thin little legs, a strange feeling overtook him - each step seemed more powerful, each stride longer. The posters on the wall he was passing were also moving more and more into his line of vision. He pounded on still, although he was rapidly becoming aware that he wasn't growing younger - he was growing older. He clutched tightly to his shorts as he slowed to a jog, panting. Looking down at himself he saw that he was holding his shorts up above his belly-button, but they now hung to knee-level, not below. A wave of excited relief ran through him as he realised he was regaining his maturity. His body proportions rapidly changed as he approached puberty once more, his shorts finally able to hang - although still loosely - on his hips with no support. His chubby limbs became firmer and longer, his feet becoming thinner and longer as they crept outward as he watched.
Marcus had slowed to a walk as he watched the changes, and finally ground to a halt to watch with joy as he reclaimed his age. Suddenly, he remembered Tom, and span around to see if he had kept up. His joy turned into a mixed fear as he surveyed the scene in front of him.
"Wait, kid!" screeched Tom, his voice cracking horribly. He looked like a young-teen now, no longer the well-built stranger Marcus had slammed into minutes before. The sleeves of his T-shirt were past his elbows, no longer tight-fitting and visibly sagging beneath his arms. Beneath his shirt Tom felt more changes taking place - his chest was collapsing into itself, the hair that covered it sinking back into his skin and disappearing as he grew younger and younger. The hair beneath his armpits likewise retracted, as did the hair on his shins - shins that were gradually being obscured by shorts that sank ever lower. His shoulders narrowed and his arms became scrawny as he was dragged back across the threshold of puberty, becoming just a 10-year-old boy. His facial hair was no more; a smooth-cheeked wild-eyed youth stared in absolute horror at Marcus.
"M...marcus?" Tom squeaked, finally, recognising his colleague...and forced to look up at him. By now, Marcus had just re-entered puberty, hair sprouting across his whole body. His torso expanded, returning his lost muscles and masculinity. His shorts now sat properly on his waist, and his face had recaptured its fine, manly features. He looked down at the rapidly regressing Tom, torn between grinning and looking concerned.
"Yeah...that's right, Tom," Marcus said softly, as Tom's regression gradually slowed. His shorts lost all hold on his diminished waist, sliding down to sit atop his boots. Tom stared down at them, his mind reeling. He hastily stepped out of the shorts, as if he had the idea that is clothes were the cause of his regression. He stumbled out of his adult boots, his bare-feet slamming down on the hot concrete. His boxer shorts slithered down his smooth legs - he watched them in terror. His whole life, his masculinity, his very worth was all just slithering from his body. He was now just five-years old, his shirt reaching down to his knees and covering the palms of his hands. He crouched down, clutching desperately at his boxers.
"Help me!" he pleaded, staring up Marcus with impossibly large eyes set beneath a mop of light-brown hair and above the cutest little button nose. Marcus stared back with sharp features, a blank face and lips slightly parted.
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