"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
Mitch and David turned around in surprise, both boys nearly tripped over thier oversized clothing. They gaped up at the tower figure of a huge, burly man wearing a white t-shirt with the word "Coach" printed in black letters. He was stocky, with a round beer belly and huge muscular arms and legs. He wore tight, red gym shorts that left little to the imagination. He had a scruffy face, and a red coach hat. A silver whistle tangled around his neck.
"Mister, you gotta help us!" Mitch said. "See we're supposed to be grown ups, but somehow, we ended up here."
The burly coach chuckled. "Happens all the time. Grown ups get lost in the Daddy dimension. You must have pissed off the wrong big guy, or maybe accidentally taken a whiff of some magic dad odor, huh."
"Yeah!" David said. "That elevator smelled like a disgusting fart and then we shrank down and then and then. Gosh this is so weird."
"Aw." The coach stooped down and tousled the boys' hair. "Poor kids."
"But we're not kids," Mitch and David said in unision.
"You are now."
"Well how do we grow back up?" Mitch asked, tugging on the too-big sleeves of his security guard uniform.
"You gotta really, really want it," the coach said. "My name is Coach Sam Stockybutt."
David laughed. "What kind of a name is that?"
Coach Stockybutt shrugged. "All the men have names like that in the Daddy Dimension. It's perfectly normal. And who might you gentlemen be?"
Mitch and David introduced themselves and again, their explanation came pouring out of them. They talked in frantic, boyish bursts of phrases, taking turns and talking over one another, and once more begged Coach Stockybutt for help getting turned back into men and sent back home.
The coach stood, laughed, and fingered his stubled chin. He stratched his belly, and his shirt bunched up, revealing a hairy torso. "Well boys, tell you what. I'll blow on my magic whistle and you just wish for whatever it is you want the most. Maybe that'll fix things."
Mitch stared up at the handsome, hairy coach, a little spellbound by his masculine charm.
David started to feel uncharacteristically excited by the bulge in the coach's shorts.
The boys agreed, feeling a little dizzy and out of control.
"All right guys. One. Two. Three." Coach Stockybutt blew on his whistle. A long, shrill sound erupted.
David and Mitch each felt a strong sensation, like their bodies were being contorted suddenly, they each jolted forward a step, feeling a strange tight sensation. When it was over, they looked down and examined themselves. Their billowy, oversized, men's security guard uniforms had changed, tightened up into small gym shoes, black gym shorts, and white t-shirts. They were now wearing the form-fitting gym uniforms of a couple of 5th grade boys.
"Hey!"
"No fair!"
They glimpsed at each other in panic. Felt up and down their bodies. "We're still kids!" They said together.
"Hm. Well it seems like you must be enjoying your new ages more than you thought," the Coach said. "Because it looks like you want to join my gym class." He blew on his whistle again. That same shrill sound vibrated through the boys bodies. They suddenly stood at attention. "How does that sound, boys? Do you want to be in Coach Stockybutt's gym class, and do whatever coach says?"
"Yes coach!" the boys said in uniform.
Coach Stockybutt grinned. "That's all I needed to hear!"