John found himself seated at a large desk, staring without comprehension at a sheet of paper-- or rather, papers, stapled at the upper left hand corner. Looking up, he found himself surrounded by teenagers, all bent over their own sheets of paper, furiously scribbling.
Looking back down at the page, John gulped. Why hadn't he studied?!? He read through the question, then re-read it, unable to even figure out what it was asking. Why was in in a high school math class? Wasn't he in junior high?
He looked again at the huge desk, the tall students next to him. Maybe he was still in grade school...
Then the class bell sounded.
John woke up confused. Hadn't he just been in school?
A ringing noise sounded right next to his head. A modern telephone with a clip of an old fashioned telephone's bell...
"Hello?" he mumbled into the handset. Things seemed off somehow, but he couldn't figure out just exactly how... he was really tired, and soaked with sweat...
"Hello? Jane?" an unfamiliar voice asked, rather nasally.
"Do I sound like a 'Jane'?!" John crossly demanded of the speaker.
"Uh...," said the other voice.
Not bothering to respond, John slammed the handset down, making the light-weight telephone slide a few inches across the nightstand. He flopped back into the bed and stared at the old fashioned ceiling, high overhead... Old buildings like this one always seemed to have high ceilings. He just hadn't noticed how high last night. Then again he'd been soaking wet and more than a little upset.
Being upset must be the explanation for that weird dream. He hadn't had one of those "exam I haven't studied for" dreams in years! Or maybe he was more nervous about this trip than he'd realized.
But it didn't matter! Despite waking up soaked with sweat, John felt great! Better than he had felt in years. Ready to take on the world and impress the clients he was meeting with.
All he needed to do was relieve himself and get dressed.
"What the--?!!" John's cry, a soprano cry, came from the bathroom.
John was standing at the toilet, hold his dick, a small, tiny thing, in his hand, relieving himself into the toilet. His penis looked like...
He scurried over to look at himself in the mirror over the sink, discovering he hand to stand on his toes to get a proper look.
"Oh my god!" he exclaimed at the reflection of a kid in the mirror. Hair lighter, and shaggier, than the night before. Smooth, unwrinkled face. Smoother than could be achieved with shaving, in fact. Narrow shoulders, thin arms, no hair in the armpits... "How young am I? How...?"
A sense of reality swerving into some sort of surreality washed over John, making him feel suddenly very exposed and very vulnerable.
"What am I going to do?" he asked, sliding down onto the cool tile floor.