### *Tobias: Before the Beginning*

The waiting area outside the rejuvenation chambers was stark and clinical, its muted colors doing little to calm the storm brewing in Tobias Graves’ mind. He sat stiffly in the plastic chair, his wrists bound lightly by the magnetic restraints they’d applied after his sentencing. Around him, the faint hum of machinery and the soft footsteps of technicians filled the otherwise silent room. 

Tobias leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His thoughts swirled, and his lips curled into a wry smile. If he didn’t laugh at himself now, he might start crying. 

“Who am I?” he murmured under his breath. “Guess that depends on who you ask.”

---

### *Tobias' Monologue*

"My name’s Tobias Graves, and up until a few weeks ago, I had it all. Thirty-four years old, a hotshot investment banker, the kind of guy everyone wanted to know. My suits were custom-tailored; my cars could have been in magazines. I made numbers dance—money, profits, deals. It was my art, and I was damn good at it.

"But here’s the thing about being good at something—it’s never enough. There’s always someone richer, faster, smarter. And I couldn’t stand that. I wasn’t content just climbing the ladder. I wanted to burn the ladder down and leave everyone else staring up at me.

"So I started cutting corners. A little insider trading here, a little money laundering there. At first, it was small stuff, the kind of thing no one notices. But then the stakes got higher. I forged documents, moved massive sums of money through shell corporations, made deals I had no right to make.

"It was exhilarating. Every risk, every close call, was like a shot of adrenaline. But eventually, my luck ran out. The Feds started sniffing around, and when they put the pieces together, my entire empire came crashing down.

"I figured I’d lawyer up, pay a fine, and get a slap on the wrist. But no. They hit me with the Rejuvenation Protocol. Hard Cycle. Six years old. A ‘second chance’ at life, they called it. More like a public humiliation parade.”

Tobias opened his eyes and let out a sharp exhale, his smirk fading. “And now here I am, waiting to be turned into a kid, handed over to strangers, and spanked for dropping crayons or whatever it is six-year-olds do. All because I wanted too much.”

---

### *The Call*

“Tobias Graves,” a voice called from the door.

His head snapped up. A technician stood there, clipboard in hand, looking down at him with practiced indifference. Tobias stiffened, the weight of the moment settling heavily on his chest.

“It’s time,” she said simply.

He hesitated, his legs feeling like lead as he stood. The restraints around his wrists released with a quiet *click*, and the technician gestured for him to follow. Tobias squared his shoulders, forcing himself to walk forward. He told himself he wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t hesitate.

As they entered the sterile chamber where the rejuvenation pod waited, his bravado wavered. The pod loomed ahead, its sleek design and glowing interface a stark contrast to the life he was leaving behind.

“Strip and step into the pod,” the technician instructed, her tone clinical.

Tobias clenched his jaw, a flicker of defiance still lingering. “This is it, huh? No going back?”

The technician raised an eyebrow. “There hasn’t been ‘going back’ since your sentencing. Now get in.”

He took a deep breath, pulled off the jumpsuit they’d given him, and stepped into the pod. The metal was cold against his skin, and as the lid slid shut, Tobias closed his eyes. 

---

### *The Transformation*  

When Tobias woke, his body felt... wrong. Light. Small. Every movement was awkward, unfamiliar. He pushed himself upright, his hands trembling, and stared down at the tiny fingers splayed in front of him.

“What the—” His voice cracked, high and shaky, and he froze. “No... no, no, no!” The words squeaked out in broken pitches, his vocal cords unrecognizable.

A technician appeared beside the pod, holding out a mirror. “Your voice will take some time to adjust to your new form,” she explained. “Your vocal cords are smaller now, and so is the rest of you.”

Tobias reluctantly took the mirror, his breath catching as he stared at the child staring back at him. His face—round, soft, impossibly young—felt like a cruel joke. His hair was a messy mop of brown, his hazel eyes wide with disbelief.

“This... this isn’t me!” he sputtered, his voice cracking again. He shoved the mirror away, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. “I don’t want this!”

The technician crossed her arms. “Whether you want it or not isn’t the point. Welcome to your Hard Cycle, Tobias. Your new parents are waiting in the reception area. Let’s go.”

---

### *The Waiting Room*  

Tobias shuffled into the waiting room, his too-big pants threatening to fall down with every step. His shoes, also oversized, clopped noisily against the floor. He held the waistband of his pants with one hand, his small fingers barely gripping the fabric. Sitting on the couch were his new parents, Mrs. and Mr. Rowe.

Mrs. Rowe stood first, her stern yet kind expression assessing him carefully. She was a tall woman with a no-nonsense demeanor that made Tobias’s stomach twist. Mr. Rowe, a quiet but firm presence, remained seated, his arms crossed as he observed.

“Hello, Tobias,” Mrs. Rowe said, kneeling to his level. “I’m your new mom, and this is your dad. We’re here to help you through this.”

Tobias scowled, his tiny arms crossing over his chest. “I don’t need help. I didn’t ask for this.”

Mrs. Rowe’s lips tightened, but her tone remained calm. “That may be true, but here you are. And there’s a tradition for Hard Cycle children when they meet their parents.”

Tobias’s stomach dropped. “What... what tradition?”

Mrs. Rowe stood, motioning toward a sturdy chair in the corner. “Your first punishment happens here, in the waiting room. It sets the tone for your cycle and ensures you understand the rules from the start.”

---

### *The First Punishment*

“No! You can’t do this!” Tobias’s voice cracked as he backed away. “I didn’t even do anything yet!”

Mrs. Rowe’s expression softened slightly, but she took his hand with gentle firmness. “This isn’t about what you’ve done today. It’s about what you’ve done to get here. And it’s about showing you that actions have consequences.”

Tobias tried to pull away, but his small body was no match for hers. She guided him over to the chair, sitting down and pulling him gently but firmly across her lap. He squirmed, panic setting in as she pulled down his pants, exposing his bare bottom.

“Please, no!” he cried, tears already forming.

“This is for your own good,” Mrs. Rowe said softly, raising her hand.

*Smack!* The first swat landed, and Tobias yelped. Each swat that followed stung worse than the last, not just physically, but emotionally. By the time it was over, he was sobbing, his small hands covering his face as Mrs. Rowe helped him to his feet.

She knelt again, brushing his hair back. “This isn’t about punishment, Tobias. It’s about helping you grow into a better person. One day at a time.”

---

As they left the waiting room, Tobias clung reluctantly to Mr. Rowe’s hand. He hated how small and vulnerable he felt, but deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.

“One day at a time,” he murmured to himself, his voice still trembling. “One day at a time.”