Colby holds up the non-functional magic socks. "We should probably find the place that sold you these socks. Maybe they have to way to turn us back."
You nervously rub your goatee, only to find the bristles feel softer and sparser than they should be. Your hand shoots to your high forehead and you feel your hairline creeping back forward. "Guys!"
George and Colby are already staring at you as you slowly turn back into yourself. You begin loosing height and feel your feet shrinking. Your thick body hair fades away as your features become less mature. You beer gut retracts, along with your muscles. You watch your hands as your fingers becomes less blunt and calloused, the hair covering your knuckles lightening in color and fading away. He leans back into the couch and sighs with relief. You're turning back into yourself. It isn't long before the last of your beer gut and body hair dissolve away and you are yourself again, wearing your dad's too large clothes.
George examines his own hefty, hairy body. "Why haven't I turned back, yet?"
Colby sits down, calmly. "Let's wait a few minutes and see if it wears off on you. He's been his dad for quite a while, so maybe it just takes-"
Colby stops short when George suddenly starts dropping in height. His dense, red, body hair retracts, as does his prominent belly. His hair fills back in as his beard slowly vanishes. The age lines on his face smooth over as he sighs with relief, glad to be becoming himself again. He rubs his arms as the coarse, dense hair on them thins out and returns to its previous state. He strokes his now smooth chin and runs a hand through his full head of hair. "I'll admit I was scared that I was going to be stuck as my dad forever." His voice has returned to its normal, youthful tone.
After a minute, Colby begins shift back as well. His height drops, his tattoos fade, and his buzzed hair grows back out. As his muscles shrink, his body billows out with soft fat. Even his pathetic attempt at a mustache reappears on his upper lip as his stubble fades away. Even though he's back to his usual self, you can tell he looks a little disappointed.
You step up to Colby, your eyes downcast. "Er, Colby, about what I said earlier..."
He holds a hand up, stopping you. "Don't sweat it, man. You were stressed out. It happens."
You look over at him, still a note of disappointment on his chubby face. "But, Colby, I'm still sorry."
He sighs. "I said don't sweat it."
George lies down on the couch, back in his tall, skinny body. "Hey, we're all back to normal again. That's all that matters."
Colby hands you the magic socks. You turn them over in your hands, admiring the subtle, green striping running their length. "You know what, guys? I think I'm going to call it a day. I mean, this was way too close of a call."
George nods from his position across the couch. "I hear you, man. I think I'll head home, too."
Colby sighs and sits on the floor next to his small pile of shoes. "And I guess I'll just stay here."
You and George leave the house and go your separate ways. You head back home, glad that you were back in your natural body. Though, you still can't help but feel disappointed that your magic socks had stopped working. Perhaps turning back into your natural self was a fail-safe, in case the socks didn't work anymore.
You make your way home and find your brother there, playing video games. He gives you a quizzical look as you walk in. "Why are you wearing dad's clothes?"
You look down at your baggy clothing. "None of your business." You go to your room and get changed back into your regular clothing, relieved to be yourself.
***
It's beginning to get dark by the time your dad comes home. You envy him a little. You wish you could be more like him. But you remind yourself that you still your life ahead of you, and you wouldn't want to trade that for anything. You great him at the door and you hang out in the den for a bit, as you would do on occasion. You tell him about friends and school, and he'd tell you a little about what's going on at his work. You don't find it boring, as some teens might. You just like hanging out with your dad.
Your dad relaxes on the couch and takes a long swig of his beer. "Full moon tonight. You can already hear the wolves howling."
You both sit quietly and listen. Indeed, you can hear the far off howls of the wild wolves that live outside of town. You feel a strange tingling feeling on the back of your neck.
Your dad chuckles. "Don't worry, son. They can't get us in here."
You give him a quizzical glance. "What? I know that." You clear your throat. Your voice sounded odd for a moment.
Your dad laughs again. "Just making sure. You looked worried for a second, there."
You excuse yourself and go to the patio door. You can see the full moon rising over the trees. Your pants feel a little tight for some reason. You open the door and step out into the fresh air. You can hear the wolves howling clearly, now. There's something about the moon that just entrances you.
Your dad calls from inside the house. "I'm going to turn in early, tonight. Don't stay up too late! Your mom'll have my head."
You call back, your voice sounding oddly gruff. "Okay!"
You adjust your pants as they're starting to feel uncomfortable. Your hands meet with the soft, round form that is your stomach. You look down, confused. You were supposed to be fairly skinny. You don't remember having a belly like that. You see the light from the house reflect off the thick, dark hair on your arms. You hold your hands up, watching your thin finger thicken into blunt, calloused things. "Oh no..." You feel your chin as a goatee sprouts from your face, the thick bristles poking your fingers. You reach up and feel your hairline retreat as age lines etch into your face. Your feet begin growing, stretching the material of your socks as you begin gaining inches in height. "No, no, no..." There's a ripping sound as your blunt, hairy toes erupt form their cottony confines. There's another series of tearing as your thighs thicken and bust the seams of your jeans. You button pops and zipper tears as your waistline fills out with fat and muscle. Your shoulders widen and biceps expand to the point where your poor t-shirt can no longer take it, either, joining your socks and jeans in a symphony of ripping and tearing. The last to go are your boxers, which give out with an unceremonious pop as they can no longer contain you. You stand there, adrenaline pumping, heart beating fast, wearing nothing but the ripped remains of your clothing. You are once again your 40 year old, muscled with a beer belly dad. You scratch at the stubble on you rough cheeks.
Luckily, you remember you still had your dad's clothes form earlier that day in your room. You make your way into the kitchen. You stop when you see Tim standing there, getting himself a glass of water.
He looks over at you and his eyes widen. "Dad! What happened?"
You throw a finger to your lips, shushing him. The last thing you needed was for your actual dad to see this. "Uh, nothing. I, uh, hit a growth spurt. Um, don't stay up too late, Tim. Or your mom'll have me head."
He glances at you, his eyes betraying a confused expression. He quietly takes his glass of water to his room. You quickly make your way to your own room and close the door. You find your dad's clothes and slip them on, glad to have something that fits. You wonder if today could possibly get any weirder. Then your cell phone rings.
You answer it. "Hello?" You wince. You'd forgotten how gruff your voice was.
An equally gruff voice answers. "Oh, thank God! I'm in huge trouble, man."
You frown. "Who is this?" You pull the phone away and glance at the Caller ID. It claims that the caller is George.
The voice on the other side continues. "You're not going to believe this. After I got home, strange things started to happen. I started to lose my hair, and more hair started to grow, but all over my body. Then I got this enormous beard, and my clothes wouldn't fit anymore, and-"
It dawns on you. "And you turned into your dad. George, is that you?"
"Yeah, man. Did you turn into your dad, too?"
You sigh. "Yeah. Luckily nobody saw me, though. What about you? Where are you?"
You hear some rustling on the other end before George answers. "I locked myself in the laundry room. I found some of my dad's clothes, so there's that. I think I can sneak out if you can meet me somewhere."
You think for a moment. "How about the park where I first showed you guys the socks. I'll call Colby and have him meet us there. I bet he's probably having the same problem."
"Gotcha. Meet you there." George hangs up.
You take a moment to collect yourself before quietly making your way out of your room, and out the back patio, being sure to take your dad's loafers and the magic socks with you. You hop the patio fence, which was a little more difficult than you thought it would be, given your extra mass. As you leave your house behind, you ring up Colby's cell phone. You're sent straight to his voice mail. You curse under your breath. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.