Bryan stared at his little brother, now his LITTLE brother, with terror and confusion. What had happened here? His father was putting that very question into words.
"What happened to you?" demanded Paul of Brett, still holding him on his little feet. "How did you do this?"
"I . . . don't . . . know," Brett sobbed. He looked up at his gigantic father, twice as big as he should be. "Dad, you gotta do something!"
Bryan followed Brett's gaze and noticed something weird. Paul's chest came up only to the top of the sink, when normally the big man's waist would reach the same level.
"Uh, Dad?"
Paul ignored him. "Brett, think back. What were you doing when this happened?"
"Dad!" said Bryan, again ignored.
"I was . . . I was . . . uh . . ." Brett's tears began anew. How could he tell his father he was jerking off? And yet, what if that detail was important somehow. He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out, "I was playing with myself!"
"What?!?!?"
"DAD!"
"WHAT?" Paul said again, whirling around to face his middle son. "What IS it? Can't you see I'm busy here?"
"But Dad . . . uh . . . you're smaller, too!"