"Hey, Mr. Hundul, remember you told me I could stop by your office to borrow your racquet ball racket and balls to use at the company court?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, they're right here behind the file cabinet, Bryce. What are you doing at my desk?"
"Well, I was waiting for you, but after a while I decided I should leave you a note, so I was checking your drawer for a post-it note and pen," Bryce said standing and hitting the enter key, "Besides I wanted to watch you shrink to doll size, and then into my compression shorts for today's raquetball game with your son."
"WHA-A-A-a-a-at?" Lance shouted, but it quickly became a squeak as he shrank out of his ballooning clothing.
"Yeah, little man, I fucked with your Chronivac program. Does it seem odd to you that your son is 21, and you're 23?"
"What? I'm 51?"
"Dang, guess I have to adjust awareness settings for each change. I don't suppose you've noticed that you're now a gay muscle stud too?"
Lance blinked up at his giant intern. He opened his mouth to speak, and it kept getting wider, and wider, and he felt emptier and emptier. Bryce laughed as his studly gay young boss became compression shorts. He tucked them in the boss' gym bag, collected the office keys from his boss' empty clothing. Then he stashed the clothing in one of the half-empty file drawers. He locked the office, and headed to the company gym.
He paused at the secretary's desk, and looked around. Then he wrote a note for Ms. Hanrahan, in his best Lance Hundul style of block printing memos. "NOT FEELING WELL. WENT HOME. SEE YOU TOMORROW."