Fresh Start

Chapter 19
Adjustment Resistance Syndrome

Six Hours Earlier

Matt sat with his back against the wall of the cabin, knees drawn up to his chin, watching the other boys and girls play. He was alone now, completely and utterly alone. He had the body of a six year old boy, regressed completely in every way. His dark hair had grown several shades lighter. It felt softer to the touch too and he had a messy mop of it on his little head. His skin felt smoother too, and he had gained back a bit of baby fat around his tummy and in his fuller cheeks. Matt’s height was now barely four feet, his muscles long gone. The clothing he found in his trunk at the beginning of the day was no longer oversized kiddie clothing, it was stuff they could actually sell at the store. Worst of all was his manhood, or rather his boyhood. His once impressive penis was a little boy’s nub good only for peeing. Touching it gave him pleasant sensations but nothing like what a man felt. But the worst of it was he still knew this was all wrong, he still had his teen mind.

So as Matt sat there watching the kids play checkers and Life, run around the room doing imaginary games, colour and make up rhyming games, he knew their lives had once been so much bigger than this. And he was the last one left. Everyone else had given in to the programming, let the counsellors turn them into nose-picking, armpit farting little brats. Eight-year old Brad was playing a vigorous game of cops and robbers, an oversized police cap on his head and a bright orange cap gun in his hand. Seven-year old Timmy was playing a robber but was dressed up as a pirate, eye-patch and all. Other boys ran around in Spiderman and Batman costumes, girls in Snow White and Princess Barbie outfits. All were real little kids.

A couple of the original group had gone missing though. James had been taken away that fateful morning when Matt gave up hope of escape. True to Belton’s words Matt had seen his then thirteen-year old friend show up skipping along buck naked to camp dinner that evening along with the other Buzzy Bee tots. Matt had known then that his fate was sealed. If even James could be so effectively and quickly reduced to toddlerhood what hope did he have?

But days later the programming still hadn’t affected him. The nightly sessions with the music did nothing to dull his perception, to reduce his intellect. He woke up each morning with clear rational thought and the memories of a teen, even as all around him more of his cohorts awoke with an urge to be a good special helper and have lots of silly fun. Now Matt had no one he could confide in, no one he could have a proper conversation with. He just sat by himself, brooding.

He was doing just that when the door to the cabin swung open and heavy footfalls announced the arrival of an adult, someone big and trusted enough to actually wear shoes. It was Dr Howe, striding into the play area with his trademark grin, clipboard in hand, looking respectable and professional as ever in his white lab coat. He went straight over to Jessica, who was busy cleaning the lips of a six-year old who decided to eat crayons. Matt strained to read their lips. He always got nervous when Howe showed up, since he was the one who ran what Matt liked to think of as their mental warfare unit.

Matt’s nerves jumped when Jessica turned and pointed directly at him. Howe looked over and made eye-contact with him, giving him that disarming smile. Matt gulped but didn’t move as Howe made his way over to him. Now that he was so little the doctor seemed absolutely massive, like a white lab coated Godzilla as he made his way across the room towards the cowering boy.

“Hello there Matty,” the doctor greeted him. “I’d like you to come with me for a quick chat,” he said, extending one of his huge hands.

There was no point in resisting, the doctor could have just picked him up and carried him away if he fought. So Matt raised his hand and let Howe lift him to his feet. His red board shorts fell to the middle of his calves, the pine green rugby jersey he wore fit him more tightly. The colours were mismatched, the styles too, but then little boys didn’t know or care about such things. Matt padded along beside the giant man and let him lead him out of the cabin.

“Where are we going?” Matt asked as they crossed the grounds.

“My office,” Howe replied. “If you behave for me you can have a lolly.”

“You know I’m not a dumb little kid like the rest of them,” Matt spat. He’d considered trying to play along, pretending to be regressed to sneak past, but had realised he’d never get away with it.

“Yes I know that Matty, you’ve been a real trouble-maker this week.”

“Sorry I inconvenienced you,” he replied sarcastically.

“We will help you Matty, in spite of your resistance.”

“I know all that stuff about making us better and smarter and stronger is bullshit. The kiddies who go first might not know it but I’ve seen the changes now. They don’t look stronger to me and they definitely aren’t smarter. You just say that to keep kids in line till it’s too late.”

Howe’s usual smile faltered for a moment, but then it returned and he gave a wry little chuckle. “You are a smart little cookie alright,” he admitted.

Just as Matt expected Howe led him straight past the office and towards the chairs at the back. “Same as usual then?” Matt quipped.

“Not exactly,” Howe sniggered, guiding the boy into the middle seat.

Matt was a bit disturbed by the answer he got. “How do you mean?” he asked.

“You’ll see,” Howe assured him, holding his shoulders firmly in place as the needle pricked him from behind.

Matt felt the now familiar sensation of his muscles going to sleep, his vision blurring at the edges as headphones and goggles sealed him off from the outside world. Then his mind began to wander.

Gregory Howe felt great satisfaction as he watched Matt’s body go limp in the chair. This was his favourite part. This was why he’d applied for a job at the camps. Since his first course in Adjustment Medicine a decade ago he’d been intrigued by Adjustment Resistance Syndrome. It was a major area of debate among the medical community. Everyone had a theory about its causes. Yet no one seemed able to be able to fully explain why a small segment of the population proved completely immune to all adjustment techniques.

They accounted for about 1-3% of all children subjected to the treatment. A very small number failed to respond to the physical process. In these cases the programming had to be abandoned altogether. In most cases though, it was resistance to mental adjustment that presented itself. The result was kids with teen minds. Some parents tried to solve this problem with drugs, keeping the kids in a haze. This usually proved ineffective.

Over the years Howe developed his own theory about these mentally resistant subjects. He believed it was a problem in the type of programming they used. The problem was it tried to tie mind to body rather than assaulting the mind itself. He was sure that if he had the opportunity he could prove his method of programming would break even the most resistant. The problem was he couldn’t get any volunteers. His method meant programming the mind to be younger than the body and no parent would volunteer their kid for that.

That was why he applied for jobs in the camps. He was determined to free these unfortunate children from what had to be torturous, living out life as a teen in a child or even toddler body. Of course most camp directors would never allow him to use an untested and potentially dangerous programming method, but that problem was solved when Belton needed a favour from him, a big one. In return for his help and his silence he was given the go-ahead to try his methods out on the most resistant of each group. And he was right! His methods proved completely effective.

It gave him so much joy to see the results of his treatments. Anguished, isolated children became playful little tykes. The only issue was dealing with the parents afterwards, but they had methods for that as well. So it was that he collected the last couple resisters and subjected them to his special treatment. In this case it was a boy who was supposed to be six, but clearly wasn’t giving in. So instead Matty was getting a special round of four-year old programming.