Senior Takeover is an annual week-long event hosted by Ridgewood High, giving students - specifically seniors - the chance to see how it's like to be a teacher or administrator.
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"Act the part! Find a teacher, ask him or her to sign the form, send it in to your homeroom teacher, and that's it! Happy teaching, seniors!" you say, holding a flyer given out the day before in front of his face, before taking a spoonful of cereal
"Haha! I remember my senior takeover. I got to fill in for my history teacher, Mr. Underwood. Luckily, all of his other classes were full of unsuspecting underclassmen and BOOM! I got to pile on mounds of homework!" Mark's dad, George, said with a little too much reminiscent excitement, shaking his belly around.
"Seriously, dad? I mean, torturing the freshmen and sophomores with tons of work sounds pretty funny, but besides that, being a teacher is boring. You have to teach stuff no one cares about then you just sit around for the rest of class and do it all over again."
Your father grimaces at you after taking a sip from his morning cup of coffee. "Listen son, I know it sounds silly and useless now, but it's an experience you'll remember. And you're also treated like an adult for a week. Isn't that what you've been wanting?" Your father chuckles and puts his huge, hairy hand on your slim shoulder. "You'll have fun, Mark. I promise. Now finish eating. The bus is coming and I''ve got to go to work."
"Mmm hmmm" you mutter back, not really caring. You scoop up the bowl in your palms and lean the rim of it onto your mouth, letting the milk funnel down your throat, before running out with your backpack and yelling "Bye dad! Say good morning to mom for me!" as your dad takes out his work clothes from the room over.
On the way to school, you thought about your dad's comments on being "treated like an adult." "Shit, dad, I turned 18 three weeks ago and I graduate in two more weeks. I'm all that qualifies to be an adult!" You look down aimlessly and see a twig-like, muscle-less torso with fitting thin arms and legs coming out of it. At 5'6 and 139 lbs you weren't really a threat to anyone. Most other guys towered above you - even some of the underclassmen - and had pronounced bodies to show off. You never being on a sports team doesn't help your case. With only 5.5 inches to boast at full mast, you don't even have much to hide down there. It's not like puberty would help either - you''ve already had your growth spurt! "Who am I kidding" you continue thinking, "I look like a fly." You slink back into the bus seat, close your eyes, and drift off to sleep.
You open your eyes and see that you're back inside your house, sitting at the breakfast table, with a cup of coffee in your hand. You scowl and look around, seeing that nothing's virtually chang- "why's there hair on my arms!?" you say, looking back and forth between your right arm and your left arm. You splash your coffee on a small part of torso as you look further down and see a blue button-up shirt tucked in a belt-buckled pair of suit pants. "Wha-" You touch the protruding beer belly that pops almost over the top of those pants and notice the rigid beefiness of your fingers and palms. You jump up out of the wooden chair that's been creaking under your abrupt movements, almost hitting your head on the ceiling, and run into the guest bathroom, where you see a familiar face expressing your emotions.
"AHHHHHH! AH-ah?" You put your hand up to your throat and saw your dad do the same in the mirror. "I- I have dad's voice and... and his clothes... and his body..." You brush your dad's hand through his reddish-brown woodsman beard then move your other hand down to shake his beer belly.
A series of knocks on the bathroom door scare the shit out of you as you grab on the counter. "Honey!? Honey!?!?!? Are you okay!? I heard screaming!!" You leaned against the counter for a second and glanced back at dad's reflection. Your mom was always the one getting panic attacks in your home, even for something as small as a misplaced phone charger. You figure it would be best to console her like how your dad always did. "U-uh. Honey? I'm fine. There was just a... spider?" You don't hear anything for a little bit but then hear a grunt and footsteps going away. Typical tired mom move, well, at least for your mom. You stand back in front of the mirror and notice that your dad's head almost reach the very top of it. "This is insane..." you say as you rotate his beefy body around, trying to look at it from all angles. Like most middle-aged men, your dad had a receding hairline, which you thought made him look more like a man. As you examine your dad more and more, you realize how different, yet similar he is to you. While you share eye color, hair color, and nose shape, everything else was completely different. Your body shape was slim and branchy while his was bulgey and huge. Even his package felt... "Oh man if I don't even compare..." you say as you unbuckle his belt, which he apparently likes extremely tight. "Mark?" you hear a voice say as it begins to knock on the door. You acknowledge the fact that it would've been impossible for it to know that you were in your dad's body but you ignore her and continue trying to unbuckle the goddamn leash your dad put around his waist. "Come on..." you say with anxiety and excitement. "Mark!" The knocking got exponentially louder as you finally pulled his belt off. "Come on. Please not be that big please..." You unbutton the the top and lower the zipper, then see a glimmer of white fabric behind a tiny crack under his waist then...
"HEY MARK!!!" You fly forward and see one of your best friends, Dominic, right beside you in the bus, with his right hand on your shoulder. "Dude you've been sleeping since I got on here. Time to go, we're at school." You sit there and stare at the back of the seat in front of you for a minute, wondering what the hell kind of fantasy dream was that, before grabbing your backpack and heading off the bus.