Scott couldn’t stop staring at the mirror. Luke's face glared back at him, that same sneaky, conniving expression that had made his job as principal an absolute nightmare. Every prank, every rebellious outburst—this was the face that had caused it all, and now it was his face. He felt a mix of emotions: disgust, anger, frustration. But as his eyes traced over the features—the tousled blonde hair, the green eyes, the slim yet athletic build—he had to admit, the kid was cute. Luke, for all his trouble, was bound to grow up into someone far more handsome than Scott had ever been.
Well, at least there's that, Scott thought bitterly. If he was stuck in this body, at least it had potential.
He turned away from the mirror, feeling strange, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next. His eyes wandered over to the shelves, lined with action figures—brightly colored superheroes, villains, and mythical creatures all standing in frozen poses. Scott had never been one for toys, but something about them now felt... intriguing. Almost instinctively, he found himself reaching for one, a dragon-like creature with glowing red eyes and spiky wings.
Before he knew it, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, moving the figures around, making up little battles and adventures in his head. It was weird, but somehow, it felt... fun. His adult mind protested, telling him how ridiculous he was being, but there was something undeniable about the sheer innocence of it. He lost track of time, completely immersed in the tiny world he had created on the floor.
“Luke, honey! Oh, you’re playing! That’s so cute,” came a soft voice from the doorway.
Scott looked up, startled and horrified, as Luke’s—his—new mom stood there, smiling in her bubbly, ditzy way. She clapped her hands together, practically glowing with joy.
“I’m so happy you’re starting to get into being our son! This is wonderful, just wonderful. You’re already acting like the Luke we know and love!”
Scott’s face burned with embarrassment. He scrambled to put the toys down, suddenly feeling utterly foolish. “I-I wasn’t... I mean... I was just...”
She waved it off like it was nothing. “Don’t be silly, sweetie. Now, come along, dinner’s ready. Your dad’s waiting.”
Scott forced himself up, the shame still clinging to him like a wet blanket. He followed her down the long, elaborately decorated hallway, feeling more out of place with each step. When they reached the dining room, he saw Luke’s—his—new dad sitting at the head of the table. The man was imposing, tall and broad-shouldered, with an air of authority about him. Scott didn’t know exactly what he did for a living, but the mansion and the expensive things Luke always flaunted at school made it clear that this man had more money than Scott could ever dream of.
“Sit down, Luke,” the man said, his voice deep and commanding. He didn’t even look up from his plate.
Scott, feeling small and out of his depth, sat down without a word. The man finally glanced at him, eyes cold but indifferent. “Listen, I don’t care yoy were once a man but now to me and your mom you are Luke, mine and your mothers loving son. and i do not care what you do at school, or out of this house. You can act like a fool or keep pulling those stunts like the old Luke, it makes no difference to me. We have more than enough money to cover anything, and there’s enough in your account that even your grandchildren will be set for life. But in this house, you will respect your mother and me. You’ll act like a gentleman. Understand?”
Scott’s heart pounded in his chest. The weight of everything—the body, the new identity, the absurdity of it all—pressed down on him like a lead blanket. All he could muster was a quiet, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” was all the man said before turning back to his meal.
The rest of dinner passed in silence, the weight of the new life suffocating Scott with every second. Afterward, his new mom took him back upstairs, leading him into Luke’s—no, his—bedroom. She opened the closet, showing him row after row of clothes that looked impossibly small, childish, and bright.
“Here are your clothes, sweetie. Aren’t they adorable?” she gushed, pulling out shirts and shorts that Scott instantly loathed. They were far too young for him—garish prints and cartoon characters, nothing that resembled the professional wardrobe he once owned.
Then, she pulled out a pair of pajamas—a shirt with a big red "S" for Superman on the front and soft, baggy track pants. “Let’s get you ready for bed!”
Scott recoiled instantly. “I can dress myself!” he snapped, the idea of being undressed like a child too much for him to handle.
But her cheery expression didn’t falter. “Oh, nonsense! I always helped Luke get ready for bed, and I’ll do the same for you. Now, come on, don’t be difficult.”
“I said no!” Scott felt his voice rising, a hint of the authority he once had. But it was short-lived.
Her expression darkened slightly, and she crossed her arms. “If you don’t let me help, I’ll have your father come in here. And trust me, he’ll give you a good spanking if you don’t behave.”
Scott’s stomach twisted in knots. A spanking? The thought was humiliating, but it was clear she wasn’t bluffing. With gritted teeth, he forced himself to comply. She helped him strip out of the soccer shirt and silk shorts, replacing them with the childishly small Superman pajama top and the soft track pants. He felt ridiculous, and the final blow came when she gently tucked him into the small bed, which had soccer balls all over the covers. She even placed a dragon plushy next to him.
“Here you go, sweetie,” she said, smiling sweetly as she tried to hand him the plushy. He glared at it and refused to take it. She patted his head and left the room, switching off the lights.
As soon as she was gone, Scott—Luke—sighed and hugged the dragon plushy close to his chest. The soft fabric was somehow comforting, though he hated to admit it. Lying there in the darkness, surrounded by everything that wasn’t his, he felt a wave of dread wash over him. Sure, he was cute and rich now, but the freedom of adulthood was gone.
And what was this? A bedtime? Nine o’clock? He hadn’t had a bedtime in years.
His thoughts drifted to tomorrow. The teachers would all recognize him. They’d know their former boss was now stuck in the body of a scrawny 8th grader. God, what if Luke told the other students? They’d mock him, torment him, maybe even beat him up. The thought of facing that humiliation made him sick.
But before he could dwell too long on the nightmare ahead, the exhaustion of his new body crept in. The small, youthful frame had its limits, and despite his swirling thoughts, sleep tugged at him. Within minutes, he was pulled into a peaceful slumber, his young body giving in to the weight of the day.