Chad looked around furtively. He needed a plan. He needed a cure. Hm, Rick's locker. Maybe. Rick wouldn't be dumb enough to leave anything there, would he? Or maybe he would? Worth a look.
Wearing Bruno's Speedo was somewhat comforting, and somewhat disconcerting to Chad. The rubbery spandex now felt like skin instead of rubber against his rubberized skin. He wondered what real skin would feel like? He had no idea what Rick's combo was, but he had noticed sometimes that Rick left his locker unlocked. Chad had asked him about it, and Rick giggled, saying, "It's booby trapped." Then he winked, and suggested as he walked away, "You can see for yourself, booby." Chad hadn't, as he knew what sort of pranks Rick was capable of pulling on people. But today, it was different. He reached for the locker latch to lift it, and froze. No. It couldn't be worse than being rubber, could it? He smiled. He headed to the Play Book Room. Coach insisted on keeping the playbook in there exclusively, and the players would sit and study the plays on the dry erase board. Chad picked up the old wooden pointer, it was 3 feet long. Coach preferred it to the laser pointers most teachers used because he could crack it across a desk or player's back to get their attention. Carefully, Chad pressed the tip of the pointer against the locker handle, he held the pointer at arms length and was at least 7 feet from the locker, and pushed the latch open. The built-in combo lock was unlocked as he expected. A cloud or pink and yellow powder erupted as the locker swung open, and Chad jumped backwards. He ended up on his ass, and hoped he wasn't caught in the dust cloud. He looked over his shiny black skin, and it looked dust free. Rick wouldn't want the cloud to be too big, or if he was nearby he'd get caught. Pink and yellow chalk-like dust covered a six foot circle. Chad wasn't sure if it was safe to step in. He headed to the janitor's closet.
Twenty minutes later, the dust had all been swept into a metal dustpan. Chad was wearing a respirator mask, rubber gloves, and galoshes that he found there too. The rubber gloves and galoshes felt even more like skin than the Speedo. It was so damn erotic feeling his hands, wrists, feet, and ankles wrapped in skin that he was totally erect in spite of the tight Speedo. Now he turned his attention to Rick's locker.
There was a pink and yellow dust stained note hanging from inside Rick's locker. In big black letters it read, "IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOU ARE PWNED, SUCKA!" It continued, "You just inhaled pink dust, yellow dust or both. If it's mostly one or the other, you will change. Yellow dust, your body should be feeling tight. Compact. Yep, you're shrinking. Within 5 minutes, you will be a brand new urinal cake. Good news is that I generally only leave you in the urinal for a day or two to teach you a lesson then change you back. Bad news, I sometimes forget, and I can't change back what goes down the drain. Now if you're unlucky to inhale the pink dust, well, heh heh. I think I'll let that be a surprise. Oh, and both? Well, you'll be a urinal cake, but after I change you back - mwahahaha! ---Love from ya new owner, RICK."
Suddenly, Chad realized the odd behavior of a few guys around Rick. They must've spent time as urinal cakes. They never used the urinals, and always pissed in the stalls. Chad looked at the dustbin, and found the container that Rick had rigged to launch it. It was made of a slick material, and there was almost no dust left in it, just a few grains. Chad looked in the locker. Aside from shoes, and some gear, there were toiletries including a bottle of talcum. Chad smiled. He silently filled Rick's contraption with the talcum, and reset it. There was a bit of paperclip sticking out that Rick probably used to disable it, when he opened his locker. Then Chad emptied the powders in the dustbin into Rick's now empty talcum bottle. Turnabout is fair play. Now was there anything - aha, Rick's locker wasn't as deep as it should be. He put his shoes in sideways instead of lengthwise. There was a false back on the locker. It might be booby trapped too, but Chad doubted it. Click the magnetized metal shifted, and revealed a cubby hole with a notebook, and a bag. Bingo there was Chad's cell phone.
Chad grabbed his phone. He could call for help. The phone was off. While he booted it up, he remembered the respirator mask on his face. He reached to remove it, and realized it wasn't fogged up, and he wasn't breathing. What had Rick done to him? Bing. No matter, he'd get help now. Who to call? He touched the touch screen. It flickered. Rubber fingers didn't seem to register quite the same as flesh ones. He could call a girl friend? Or Bruno? Or Rod? Or Matt? Or- his folks were out of town for two weeks on a cruise, no cell service! Hm, right, Chad's bro Brad was supposed to come down this weekend from college to check on him. He could call Brad....