Jake couldn't believe his eyes. Instead of staring up at a mountainous, hulking 6'3 man that his gym teacher was minutes ago, he was looking down at a young boy drowning in a shirt three times too big for his small frame, sweatpants drooping on his smaller legs bunching up around the ankles.
"Help me," his gym teacher pleaded in his much higher voice, looking up at him with his still piercing blue eyes.
Jake was speechless.
"Jake, don't just stand there find a way to fix this. Look at me, that damn machine somehow turned me into a freaking worthless, weak little boy. I can't stay like this, do something now." He tried speaking louder and tried talking in a lower range as if in an attempt to make himself sound more authoritative and manly.
Jake smirked.
"Make me pip squeak! In case you haven't noticed you're not exactly bigger than me at the moment. And I think it's time for me to go home. Enjoy the winter break without those muscles you rely on to push other people around."
Jake turned and began walking away.
"Sherman, wait! Let's talk about this. What do you want from me? An A in class? Not to have to run the mile? Cash?"
Jake paused.
"I'm listening," he said turning around to face his teacher.
"You find a way to turn me back, you can have anything you want."
"Fine, but I can't make any promises."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Mr. Krebs squealed.