Suddenly, everything started to appear all fuzzy; however, as things became clearer, Paul felt a slight tingle engulf his entire body.
"What's happening?" Paul grumbled to himself. 'Oh well,' he thought reaching for his book bag and one of his assigned English books, but as he did, the tingling became much stronger; so strong that it caused him to collapse to the floor.
"What are you doing back there, young lady?" asked his mother angrily. Paul froze. "Well, young lady? Do you think that because you're my daughter, you can interrupt my class?"
"Daughter...?" questioned Paul, his eyes looking up into his mother's angry face. "I'm not your dau..." but as he said this, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror behind his mother. "...Daughter."
His once short brown hair was now shoulder length and pulled back into a ponytail; while the scruffy brown mustache he'd been growing was now gone and was replaced by an ultra smooth, young girl's face. However, that wasn't all that scared him, he'd gone from standing just shy of six-foot to his height being cut in half. His clothes had also transformed into a delicate looking dress that made him look even more like a precious little girl.
"I warned you last time, you're not to interrupt my class again, or you'll suffer the consequences," snapped his mother, reaching into the box and pulling out one of the spare pink leotards and pinkish-white tights. In Paul's opinion, it was the most feminine looking outfit he'd ever seen. "Let's go," she said grabbing hold of his hand and started dragging him toward the ladies' room, all the time his feet scraping against the floor.
"But mom," he started to complain, unaware of how childish's his voice had become, his mother reaching down to unzip the back of the dress he was wearing. "I'm your son Paul. Don't you remember?"
"Paula, I've told you about telling lies. Now stop fighting me," barked his mother when she finally managed to finish unzipping the dress. "Now put these on," she ordered him as she tossed him the pair of tights.
For a minute, Paul considered arguing with his mother and trying to make her remember that he was her son, but the look on her face told him otherwise. A moment after he'd slipped the tights slowly up his smooth legs, shuttering at the feeling of them, she had him dressed in the pink leotard and standing in the front row of her ballet class.