As Jeff's body collapsed within his ballooning clothing, Jeff screamed. He fell with a plop what seemed like 3 or 4 feet to the stiff cotton floor of what seemed like a circus tent. All around him the walls of his boxers encased bt his blue jeans loomed over twice his height. That weird tiny neighbor of Brett's had said something about 3 inches. At least he was wearing clean underwear, he'd hate to imagine the stink he'd have to endure if he'd and Brett had already been to Burrito World for their weekly burrito eating contest, which was invariably followed by a farting contest.
Meanwhile, Matt had tackled 3 inch tall Brett behind a paint can, and was carrying him back to where Matt had dropped the wand. Matt had noticed a sponge that would make a good mattress laying there, but first he'd wish the struggling lad into a more cooperative mood.
Jeff tried to climb the smooth cotton walls to where his orange t-shirt acted as a canopy to the tent. The partially folded over neck hole acting as a skylight. Jeff sighed as he realized he was trapped because his mother loved to go heavy on the starch. Starched boxers and, starched jeans make a formidible prison to a 3 inch tall person. Wait maybe he could get out through the fly. He made his way to the front of his boxers, and climbed up into the slit as he slip between what seemed like 2-3 feet of fabric he saw daylight gleaming through his button fly. He grinned to himself. Good thing I didn't wear the zippered pair, he thought.