Alex's father Ken, now an 11-year-old Kenny, stood in front of Alex, nervously pulling at the oversized t-shirt that Alex had given him. His cheeks were flushed, and his too-large jeans bunched awkwardly around his waist, held up only by a makeshift belt Alex had rigged together. The once-rugged man now looked more like a bashful pre-teen, his eyes wide with uncertainty as he gazed up at his son, the roles in their relationship having flipped entirely.
“I—I don’t know why I feel like this,” Kenny mumbled, his voice high and hesitant. “I’m supposed to be your dad… but… everything feels different.”
Alex couldn’t help but smirk. “Yeah, you were supposed to be the dad, but now look at you.” He walked around his shrunken father, sizing him up with a grin. “Guess I’m the one calling the shots now, huh?”
Kenny bit his lip, his small hands fidgeting with the too-big sleeves of the shirt. He knew Alex was right—he should’ve been furious about the situation, about how his own son had accidentally regressed him into this puny boyish form. But there was a strange pull inside him, a boyish urge to admire his son, to look up to him, to let him take charge. He couldn’t deny the way his emotions now surged, making him feel more like an 11-year-old kid than a man.
“I guess,” Kenny said quietly, looking down at his feet, which barely filled the shoes Alex had lent him. He felt ridiculous, but for some reason, a tiny part of him liked being taken care of by Alex.
Alex chuckled, tousling Kenny’s hair like he was just some kid. “See? You’re getting the hang of it. Maybe you should just let me take over from here. I mean, it’s not like you can do much now, right?”
Kenny’s face reddened with embarrassment, but he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He felt a strange mix of helplessness and admiration toward his son, and though he knew in his mind that he was supposed to be the adult, his emotions were all tangled up in this new boyish mindset.
“You look ridiculous, by the way,” Alex continued, stepping back to take in the sight of his once-rugged dad, now standing awkwardly in the ill-fitting clothes. “You’re lucky that remote didn't make you any younger, I guess.”
“I—I could still be your dad,” Kenny tried to protest, his voice cracking with a hint of frustration, but it lacked conviction. He looked up at Alex with wide eyes, unsure of himself, desperately wanting Alex’s approval.
Alex grinned, crossing his arms. “You? My dad? Nah, I don’t think so. You’re just a little kid now, Kenny.”
The sound of his first name on Alex’s lips sent a strange rush of conflicting emotions through Kenny. He knew it wasn’t right—he was supposed to be the one in charge—but Alex’s teasing tone, the way he spoke with such authority, made him feel so small. His heart fluttered with embarrassment, but also something else… an odd sense of comfort. He looked up at Alex with a shy smile, a part of him strangely content with this new dynamic.
“Now go get yourself together, little guy,” Alex said, pointing toward the living room. “And maybe I’ll think about not teasing you so much if you start listening better.”
Kenny nodded obediently, his small frame turning to scurry off as Alex’s teasing laughter echoed behind him. Alex knew he should be more careful about the affects of the remote, and he'd definitely get Carl's help putting things right tomorrow. But for now, he was having too much fun flipping roles with his dad. He liked being the man of the house, and just maybe spending a little time as a pipsqueak would teach his dad a thing or two.