You know you can't let your dad see you like this, as a duplicate of him. What are you going to do?! A cold sweat initially washed over you, as you realised you will be caught doing something you definitely were not supposed to. But then an unfamiliar feeling of calm rationality set in – it must be your now older, more mature brain trying to take stock of the situation.
What if you weren’t your dad’s doppelganger, but you actually took your dad’s place in the world for a little while? Hmmm but what will you do with your dad in the meantime? Well actually a space just got vacated in the universe… yours! But how will dad take your space in the world? Then you remember that his birthday was coming up and you hatch a plan.
You quickly glance at the mirror. You’re bursting from your old pants that were tethering at the seams trying to hold your new larger husky thighs and bloated gut. They looked plastered on you and the zip and button were ruined. You slip off your father’s tan suede loafers that had instigated your transformation and you try to pull your pants off as you wiggle your hefty thighs to loosen them. They come off with difficulty but not before the seams give way. You were left in your Simpsons boxers which had been loose before the transformation but now were skin tight like a pair of Lycra boxer briefs with the elastic stretched to the limit. As you peered in the mirror you looked a bit ridiculous – an overweight man in his forties wearing a skin tight teenager’s boxers. You quietly open the bathroom door and grab a loose T-shirt, and shorts from your father’s closet. You hastily put on the T-shirt and shorts– if you were caught there’d be much more explaining to do if you were seen half naked. As you put them on you subconsciously notice how your bloated body jiggles with each of your sudden movements.
Now dressed in T-shirt and shorts you quickly tip toe to your room being careful not to be visible from downstairs when passing from the landing. You curse under your breath as you realise that with each of your hefty footsteps the floorboards are creaking under your now significant weight. You hear your father talking to your brother and telling him to get ready for softball practice. Thank God today was Tuesday! You had forgotten Tim had softball practice today in half an hour’s time and he’d soon be out of the way! Your dad would drive him there and on dad’s return only you two would be left at home. Conveniently your mum worked late on Tuesdays so you would have the house to yourselves and to more experimentation with the socks.
You make yourself into your room unnoticed and lock yourself in. You quietly rummage your room looking for a pair of oversized dress shoes your mum had made you wear once for a relative’s wedding that were a crucial part of your plan. When you finally find them you hear the front door close. You peer from your room’s front-facing window onto your driveway to see your dad and Tim get into the car and the car making its way out of the driveway.
You grab the shoebox and peer inside examining the pair. They were a fine pair of brown dress shoes that had actually been quite expensive. You had worn them only once for your cousin’s wedding a few weeks before and for this reason they still looked brand new. Being size 12 they were several sizes too large for your size 8 feet. Your mother had rightly predicted that you probably wouldn’t wear them again before another formal occasion and God knows when that would be. So given how expensive they had been she made you buy them several sizes larger than you should have so you would “grow into them” with time rather than outgrowing them as time went by. You remember stuffing the shoe tips with cotton wool before the wedding just to cushion them so you wouldn’t fall over with each step you took. You remove all the cotton wool you had stuffed in and you clean them over quickly. They might have seemed like clown shoes then but the fact that at size 12 they were the right fit for your father’s feet made them perfect for your plan now, especially since you were sure your dad didn’t even remember you had them.
You remove the magical socks, feeling how damp they were to the touch now that they had been on your sweaty feet. Somehow they had stretched to accommodate your new feet without much problem.
Now that you were alone at home you unlock your room and make yourself downstairs barefoot with your socks and dress shoes in tow. You’re still amazed at how the stairs are creaking under the weight of your new beefy build. You go into your dad’s study and open his desk looking for some wrapping paper and a gift card. You carefully wrap the dress shoes and socks which had thankfully dried up from your sweaty feet into a neat parcel. You try to write the gift card in your usual handwriting but realise that you’re struggling with your dad’s large paw-like hand and that your writing is looking more like your dad’s indecipherable scrawl. Somehow you manage to write a message which could pass for your handwriting:
“To dear dad
An early Birthday present.
Will
P.S. It would mean so much to me if you could try them on and show me how they fit”
You leave the parcel and card neatly on the chair by the front door.
Just then you become aware of just how tight your old boxers were feeling. Your thighs and junk were feeling constricted. You realise that now that the plan has been set you have time to change to something that better fits your new size.
You make yourself upstairs back to your parent’s room opening your father’s closet looking for some man-sized boxers.
You put on a pair of his plain white socks for size and then put on his tan loafers.
You’re brought back to your senses when you hear your dad’s car pull up into the driveway. Here goes nothing! You retreat into your parent’s room out of sight leaving the door just ajar so you could peep through to see your dad’s transformation in the hallway. You hear the door opening.
“Will I’m home!”
You see him walk towards the chair eyeing the package suspiciously. He picks up the gift card and starts reading it, a smile forming on his face. He unwraps the package, being a bit perplexed when he saw the pair of neatly folded ordinary, white, crew socks with a green seam at the toes. He opened the shoe box and took out the dress shoes.
He chuckled to himself. He sat down on the chair and slipped off his black loafers and pulled off his plain black socks, wiggling his toes now that they were free after a long day at work. He proceeded to put on the magical socks, being surprised at how comfortable they fit. He then slipped on your brown dress shoes and did the shoelaces. He walked to the hallway mirror to see how his new shoes fit him. They actually looked good on him.
“Will thank you but you really shouldn’t have” his father shouted in the direction of the staircase “They look really expensive! They fit great.”
You notice your father examining himself in the mirror as if he was seeing something different for the first time.
You notice that aside from the grey at his temples, your dad’s hair was starting to look a few shades lighter, like it's turning to your sandy brown. The hair on his arms is also looking unusually sparse. You smile to yourself – your plan had worked out great.
“Why, I almost look younger in these shoes!” You notice the fine lines which had etched themselves on your father’s face in recent years were also fading away much to his delight. His greying stubble was starting to disappear leaving him fresh faced whilst his now brown hair was creeping back up his forehead reversing his early stages of baldness.
He looked incredulously at the mirror not believing his eyes.
He stops for a second looking up at the ceiling. You deduce he’s feeling dizzy right now as he steadily lost height and his shirt and pants bunch up. He looks at his now hairless arms and his surprise turns into horror.
“Hey what’s going on Here? Will wheRe are you? Why aRen’t you answering? I’m cOMing up.”
You hear your dad’s voice start to break and sounding less deep than usual. He tries to clear his throat. He starts making his way to the staircase but you notice that he was about to trip over, steadying himself with the bannister.
“Strange, they fit fine a minute ago…” you hear your father say to himself as he eyes his new shoes. You realise that the large shoes are probably starting to fit loosely on his shrinking feet.
He makes his way up the stairs steadying himself with the bannister along the way, perplexed at how loose the shoes were now feeling. You notice the fabric of his beige chinos starting to bunch up further at his shoes as he was progressively losing height. The cuffs of his blue polo shirt, which usually struggle to hold his beefy arms, were also looking less stretched than usual as he lost muscle mass from his biceps. You notice that his steps on the wooden stairs were sounding less pounding than usual. His features were slowly shifting into something familiar.
You realise that soon he’ll find you and you’ll have to explain the situation or come up with a plausible story… which is going to be difficult.
“WilL?” he calls out again, clearing his voice as it sounds like a cross between his gravely baritone and your higher pitched voice.
He walks into your room, which you realise you had left open. You should have thought this through and locked your room to give you more time until your father would have completely finished his transformation. He soon comes out as he realise its empty.
He now heads in your direction as he notices that strangely his bedroom door is closed. You prepare yourself for the encounter as you notice your features on your dad’s face - his ears are growing a bit, his nose shrinking ever so slightly, and his jawline thinning down into your familiar one. His hair is now completely sandy brown. He’s now almost your height and build but he’s still carrying a lot of weight, which he’s progressively losing in front of your eyes.
“WHY ARE YOU IN OUR ROOM WILL?” you hear your voice ask angrily at the door as you slowly back away from the door.
Your parent’s door finally opens up and you are faced with a chubby version of yourself wearing your dad’s clothes which were bunched up.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” You hear your voice ask as your father looked incredulously at his duplicate. He picks up the first thing he finds – a vase and points it in your direction with a menacing look that seemed comical coming from someone your age.
All the while he continued slimming down; his hard gut thinning into oblivion and his tight meaty pecs shrinking into a skinny chest, leaving the shirt to hang loosely like a tent.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON? WHERE’S WILL??”
Calmly you answer “Look in the mirror and you’ll see him.”
“What kind of joker do you think you are?” Your father replies, but then realises that when he speaks he’s hearing your voice.
He drops the vase that broke into pieces as he looked trembling at his thin arms and bunched up clothes.
You motion him towards the bathroom mirror and he zooms towards it while touching his now smooth stubble-free face.
You hear him scream.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? I’m John – how can I look like my son Will?! This must be a bad dream”
Understandably he seemed to be having an existential crisis.
“What’s the matter Will?” you coolly ask him with a smirk on your face.
“This cannot be happening! I had just opened the gift Will had gave me when this happened” said your father while he was trying to figure out what happened.
“I had just put on the… IT”S THOSE BLOODY SHOES!” He barked in your face.
Your expression quickly changed to bewilderment at how quickly your father had figured things out. He noticed your expression and picked up on it.
“But the card was in Will’s handwriting? Will is that you?” he asked looking at his duplicate.
“No. What makes you say that? I’m John Parker” your left eye twitched as you lied – unfortunately it was a tic you had and that you still had even in your father’s body.
“IT IS YOU WILL?! Your eye always twitches when you lie! What the hell is going on here?”
“No I’m not dad…” Oops. You mentally kicked yourself. The jig was up.