The Photographer

Chapter 6
Game Day

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Chapter Description: Re-uploaded after the server glitch erased it.

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And by ’later’, Marcus meant ’after work’. Duty called, after all.

After returning to the newspaper office and downloading his photos from the pep rally (the photos of Jenny, of course, he would save for private viewing later), it was time to get a quick bite to eat and then take care of his next assignment.

Monday, 4:45 p.m.

A few blocks from the office was the local Queso Grande (’Large Cheese’ sounds better in Spanish, he mused).

The Queso Grande had an out building near the drive-thru for storage that also contained a hose for washing the parking lot periodically. And because Queso Grande was a fine, upstanding, community-friendly business, they also allowed local charities and groups to use the hose for car washes and other fundraisers.

With school out for the day, Mondale Community College’s volleyball team was raising funds for their trip to regionals.

Marcus ordered his food and, since it was a warmer day than usual for October, chose to sit outside and admire the, uh, volleyballs.

He wasn’t the only one: a line of cars, mostly driven by college-age guys, snaked around the Queso Grande parking lot. A donation was a small price to pay for this show, Marcus agreed.

Speaking of shows....Marcus decided this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He programmed a new group of settings.

“Ladies...do I mind if I get your picture? For the paper,” said Marcus.

Much to the chagrin of the truck driver that was currently enjoying the view at the front of the line as the bikini-clad girls soaped up his windshield, they agreed.

Click.

Suddenly the 19- and 20-year olds were half that age.

Their sexy swimsuits had turned into one-pieces or tankinis, and the huge line of college guys was gone; clearly, in this altered universe, the car wash’s ’assets’ had disappeared.

The sign had changed, too; instead of advertising a college volleyball team, it was now encouraging people to donate to the local elementary school squad.

Off to the side, five bored-looking moms, ranging in age from their late 20s to early 40s, stood next to their vans, chatting.

Wow, Marcus thought, this thing covers everything. Of course a group of third graders wouldn’t be doing something like this unsupervised.

Marcus continued to eat his meal and listened to the moms’ conversations.

“These kids today are always want, want, want,” said a brunette woman that appeared to be the oldest of the group, probably in her early 40s. “I want these clothes. I want a new game. I want to go to the mall.”

“They grow up so fast, Michelle,” agreed the woman to her right. Well, actually the opposite in this case, mused Marcus. “We were never like that, were we?”

Only one way to find out, thought Marcus, programming some changes.

Click.

The women were unchanged on the outside, but their demeanor, their posture had changed.

Mentally, they were 14 again.

“This is booooring!” exclaimed Michelle, reaching into her purse to grab a piece of gum. “Like, why are we just standing here when there are probably BOYS inside?”

“Totally,” said another ’mom’, whose decision to roll up the sleeves of her T-shirt to her shoulders to completely expose her arms looked odd on an overweight 35-year-old. “God, I’m so pale.”

Another ’mom’ with a sensible mature hairstyle had pulled a small mirror of her purse. “Like, what did I do to my hair? I look sooo old.”

Ironic, Marcus thought.

He followed the moms inside of the restaurant.

Working the counter as a cashier was a male college student: tall, thin, and muscular.

“Is there something wrong with the car wash, ladies?” he asked with a smile.

The women giggled like, well, teenagers with a crush.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah....” Michelle said shyly. “Fine.”

The cashier looked a little confused. “Can I help you?”

They giggled as a pack again and, trying to save face, ordered some tacos.

Grabbing a corner booth, they burst out in laughter.

“Oh my god, Shelly. Could you have been any more lame?” said Rolled-Up Sleeves Mom.

“Like you did any better, Jessicaaa,” said Michelle. “You just stood behind me.”

“He was so cute though!” said Rolled-Up Sleeves Mom. “Like, super hot.”

“Women, huh?” Marcus said to the cashier, rolling his eyes. The cashier gave a small smile and nodded.

Time to go, Marcus thought, undoing all the changes. Well, except one.

Click.

The moms were gone in the blink of an eye, transported back to work or wherever they had been in ’real life’.

Marcus heard screams from outside: the college volleyball team was back, but their adult swimsuits hadn’t come with them.

The tankinis were riding way up, strained by the sudden addition of breasts and exposing plenty of fit stomachs. The bottoms weren’t faring much better either. The one-pieces were strained to the breaking point, giving the truck driver a nice show of exposed breasts.

You’re welcome, buddy, Marcus thought. But you won’t remember this, unfortunately.

Click.

The car wash was back to normal, like nothing had happened.

Monday, 3:30 p.m.

Anne, however, was not.

As the bell rang to end the school day, she was unsure what to do. Would her car be in the teachers’ parking lot still? It was worth a shot.

“Hey, cutie,” she heard someone say behind her. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

She recognized the voice, and turned around to see Justin Terrell, one of the stereotypical dumb-jock meathead football players that had been in her math class. When she was a teacher, that is.

“Leave me alone,” she said, trying to sound authoritative. The unconscious giggle that followed defeated that try, though.

She found herself playing with her hair and checking out Justin’s biceps. Justin, on the other hand, was not-so-furtively taking glances at her trim stomach, a strip of which had evaded the cover of Annie’s small, tight sweater.

Annie wobbled a bit. What was she doing?

It’s like I really AM 16 again, she thought. Pull yourself together, Anne, she told herself.

“I’m going to my car,” she said. There. Simple. Teenage hormone-free.

“You’re going the wrong way,” said Justin, pointing in the opposite direction. “Student lot’s that way.”

“That is, unless you’re looking for someplace...quiet,” he added with a lecherous grin.

Damn hormones, Annie thought, trying to keep down the rushing tide she felt inside.

After a few seconds, Anne took control back from Annie.

“No way. You’re too young for me,” she said, quickening her pace and leaving a puzzled Justin in her wake.

Weird, the senior lineman thought. I would have guessed sophomore at best.

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Distractions behind her, Anne arrived at the door leading to the teachers’ lot on the west side of the school, opened it, and went outside.

But there was no sign of her close-to-brand-new car. Her usual spot was empty.

She walked back around to the front of the building. The buses had already left for the day.

Well, there’s one perk to being young: all this walking isn’t wearing me out, Anne thought. Though these heels are NOT conducive to this activity.

That left one option: the student lot on the east end of the building.

And sure enough, the nearly-empty pavement continued a familiar sight for Anne: her first car, a hand-me-down from her parents that had seen better days.

Feeling more nervous than usual behind the wheel, Anne pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

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’Home’ turned out to be a relative term.

When Anne pulled up to the house that she and her husband had bought two years ago, it was missing all the renovations they had done: new paint, a screened-in porch, new shutters, all gone.

So Anne found herself parked in front of the house that she grew up in.

She expected to see her parents—would they be younger too?--but no one was home. Her old key still worked, and she opened the front door.

And it was like walking into a time warp: her wedding photo, which had been hanging over the stairs, was now a family portrait again. Her graduation photo? Now, just a copy of her yearbook photo.

Okay, first things first: I have to get out of this clothes, said Anne to herself.

She ran up the stairs to her room (that energy again) and went right to the closet. God, I used to dress like such a slut, she thought, moving through tight and short clothes meant for a teenager to the back of her closet.

Time to go in the opposite direction, Anne decided, grabbing a sweatshirt and jeans.

After changing, she looked in her full-length mirror out of routine—and gasped.

The sweatshirt was shrinking, tightening up on the side to better display her teenage curves and receding up her abdomen to again expose her tight midriff and small bellybutton ring.

Her baggy jeans, too, had gone down a size or two, allowing for more midriff to show on top, a tight ass in the middle, and a few inches of trim ankle on the bottom.

Her casual outfit was screaming ’look at me, teenage boys!’ again.

Annie giggled and admired herself, turning her body slightly to check out her cute backside.

Anne blinked twice, and the fog lifted a bit. The sweatshirt and jeans were back to normal—she was still irresistibly cute, but at least it wasn’t so blatantly sexual. Better, she thought.

Then the doorbell rang.

Monday, 4:50 p.m.

Marcus looked at his watch, and smiled.

Not only had the car wash gone back to normal, but so had time: only the 10 minutes it had taken Marcus to order his food and take it outside had actually passed in the ’real’ world.

What a time-saver, he thought. Literally.

However, duty called—it was time to drive over to the Kerry High football game and get situated before kickoff. He put away his special camera (he didn’t want the star running back becoming a cheerleader, too...not yet) and put his regular one on the passenger seat.

Three blocks into the drive, he passed by Annie’s old house. An off-hand glance in the rearview mirror was all it took to make him circle back around the block.

That’s her old car, Marcus thought. Last time I saw that car, it was sitting on the lot after she traded it in...ten years ago.

He smiled, and checked his watch. I can play for a little while yet, he decided, grabbing the special camera.

He rang the doorbell.

Monday, 5:05 p.m.

Marcus remembered that Anne hadn’t actually SEEN him since the changes.

“Annie? What happened to you? You look...like a teenager!” See, Mom, taking drama senior year DID pay off, Marcus thought.

“Have you ever had one of those really vivid dreams, where you realize you’re dreaming?” asked Anne. Marcus nodded. “You’re in one of mine right now. Not that you are you and you can remember this, of course. This is all in my head.”

“A rather cute head, if I do say so myself. And the rest of you’s not terrible, either,” said Marcus. What the hell. She thinks it’s a dream. I can be as forward as I want to be.

Annie blushed. Marcus was kind of cute, she thought.

“Want to walk with me to the game? I’m on my way there now,” he said. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

Anne was more inclined to stay home, but Annie won out.

“Sure!” she chirped. “Let me get my purse.”

While she darted upstairs, Marcus programmed a list of changes, setting each up to affect only Annie. Each change would be triggered separately with the push of his shutter button, and Annie would be not be consciously aware of the changes.

Marcus and Anne walked, chatting easily about the town, the Senate race in the state, and a variety of other topics. Amazing how, with her husband Steve not around, the pressure is off, thought Marcus. Although it was sort of surreal having an adult conversation with someone that looked 16.

Kerry’s stadium was in a small valley, so from the hill Marcus and Anne had a great view of the crowd assembling in the bleachers on the opposite side of the stadium.

Even with the sun starting to set, the warm conditions, especially for October, had persisted.

“Let me get a quick picture,” said Marcus.

Click.

Anne’s sweatshirt immediately changed into a gold ’Kerry Pride’ T-shirt, matching the student section.

Click.

Her jeans crept up an inch or two to show off her trim young ankles.

“All good,” said Marcus, and they walked down the hill to the entrance gate.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, Marcus showed his press pass to get in, and waited on the other side of the gate.

Anne reached into her large black purse for her wallet, opened it, and pulled out her teacher ID automatically without looking at it.

Principal George Tate, an odd look on his face, handed it right back to her.

“Annie, where did you get this? You’re not a teacher,” he said.

Anne looked down. Her 28-year-old face, with dark blonde hair, stared back at her from the plastic card, which read ’Anne Harris’. Her head started swimming.

Click.

She blinked, and the pressure let up.

Annie looked up, brushing a strand of light blonde hair out of her face, and saw a smiling George Tate.

“Annie, could I see your student ID, please?” he asked, like nothing had happened. Because nothing had.

She looked at the card: there was a picture of a smiling girl with braces, with the Kerry logo behind the name ’Annie French’.

“Old picture,” Annie said. “I got those braces off 13 years...I mean, a few months ago.”

Tate smiled. “Enjoy the game,” he said.

Monday, 5:30 p.m.

It was a half-hour before kickoff as Annie and Marcus walked up to the fence behind one of the goalposts.

The conversation was growing a bit more juvenile.

“Like, did you see what Abby was wearing back there?” said Annie, referring to a girl that ironically was one of Anne’s favorite students. “Could she wear more layers? It’s like, 80 degrees out today.”

Marcus nodded at Annie’s remark, and pointed his camera at the field to ’check the lighting’.

Click.

Annie’s T-shirt sleeves, which had covered most of the upper part of her arms, were now rolled up to her shoulders.

Click.

Annie’s loose jeans walked up her legs a bit more.

“Hey, Marcus!” said a female voice behind him.

Marcus switched the camera off of the Annie settings list and turned to see Jenny Taylor, still sans wedding ring and McPhee name after her last set of changes.

“Are you ready for our date tonight after the game?” she asked.

Annie sniffed...was that disappointment? Marcus thought. Interesting.

Marcus was torn: here was a beautiful woman throwing herself at him, but here he was more concerned about what Annie thought of him...still!

Marcus remembered that he still had the suggestibility setting toggled for Jenny.

“Our date was moved to tomorrow, remember? You said you wanted to buy something sexy from the mall to show me,” he said.

Jenny blinked. How could she have forgotten that? She recovered quickly.

“Sure. I think you’re going to like it. A lot,” she said with an alluring smile, trying to keep her voice down on the crowded sideline while still packing an enticing tone. “Think ’naughty teacher’.”

“How’s the cheer squad shaping up?” Marcus asked.

Jenny smiled. “I think they’re really responding to my coaching well. I modified a routine from college for them to perform at halftime. I think we can win the conference competition this year, and maybe even regionals!”

Click.

“I mean, as senior captain, I’m totally pumped! I think our routine is like, the best. We’ve been working soooo hard,” said the blonde, toned, bubbly 18-year old. “Gotta go...we have to get the tunnel ready for the football team!”

As Jenny ran off, Annie rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” Annie said, and left it at that, three syllables speaking volumes.

Monday, 6 p.m.

Annie couldn’t put a finger on why she felt compelled to hang around with Marcus...it just felt right. I mean, they were the same age, right? And friends? Or was he older?

It was confusing for some reason.

Besides, it was kind of interesting being on the sidelines for the game and right on top of the action. I wouldn’t mind being this close more often, she thought, as the opening kickoff sailed through the air.

Click.

She cracked her gum. She didn’t remember putting a piece in her mouth, but it tasted sooo minty and good. The grass crunched under her tennis shoes as she followed Marcus up the field after a decent return on the kickoff.

Click.

Absently twirling a piece of her light blonde hair (was it always this color?), Annie watched as Ryan Yates, wearing the same shade of gold as her ’Kerry Pride’ T-shirt, led the offense out onto the field.

Click.

I mean, just looking at him in those tight pants was enough to make a girl melt, Annie thought, rolling up the right leg of her jeans a little bit more.

Click.

Justin Terrell burst through the pile for a big gain as Annie looked over Marcus’ shoulder...at 6 feet even, he was six inches taller than her.

Justin’s pretty hot, too, Annie thought. And he totally likes me. Why did I say no to him again?

She adjusted the waistband of her capris...they were getting sort of loose.

Click.

Trying to ignore the dull buzzing in her head, Annie shifted her left foot. Wearing 3-inch heels to a football game was a poor choice.

Click.

But she had to look cute this close to the team, Annie rationalized.

Click.

That’s a big word, she giggled. Ratshunalized.

Click.

Besides, the shoes combined with her short shorts were really showing off her long legs. Her 6-foot frame had drawn plenty of attention from the girls’ volleyball and basketball coaches, she suddenly remembered.

Click.

But that required sweating, she thought. Boys didn’t like that too much.

Click.

Annie felt her bra pinching against the front of her pink T-shirt. Did it shrink in the wash or something? She’d been a B-cup for the last two years.

Click.

A C-cup, she corrected herself. Maybe I did grab the wrong bra. She giggled to herself. You’re so forgetful sometimes, Annie, she chided herself.

Click.

The crowd roared as Yates rolled right and launched the ball 30 yards down-field, hitting his receiver in stride for a touchdown.

Annie leapt up and down, screaming with joy. Her boobs bounced freely...she probably should have worn a bra, but the football team told her it was ’good luck’ on gameday not to.

That was one of the best things about wearing the pink of the Kerry Kuties, she thought. The ’special’ girls-only fan club at the high school made sure that the players were ’taken care of’.

She wanted to make the boys happy. She really did.

Click.

Without thinking, Annie tied the pink T-shirt to expose a generous portion of her slim, toned midriff. A small jewel glistened in her bellybutton.

The transformation from stern math teacher to giggly football bimbo was complete.

Monday, 6:15 p.m.

Marcus was having a LOT of trouble focusing on the game with the increasingly sexed-up girl of his dreams standing next to him.

His playlist of changes complete, Marcus, much like he had with Ex-College Cheerleader Jenny earlier in the day, made sure to snap a few quick bursts of pictures of Tied T-Shirt Annie before undoing the changes (well, most of them) to focus on the game.

Monday, 6:20 p.m.

Anne screamed. “What am I wearing?” she said in surprise.

Marcus played dumb: “Huh?”

“THIS OUTFIT!” she yelled again in a high-pitched teenaged voice, drawing a few glances from the nearby people on the sidelines.

Marcus stuck with his original statement: “Huh?”

Anne looked down again...at her sweatshirt and jeans, covering up her 28-year-old body. She felt...really fat for a second, but then normalcy caught up with her. “I...thought I was wearing something else for a second. Sorry.”

Monday, 9:30 p.m.

From there, the day job took over: Marcus continued to take shot after shot of the football game, chatting comfortably with Anne in between plays as Kerry held on for a 28-21 win. It was like the years, the problems, the discomfort, had been washed away. And, in a way, they had.

After the game, the two walked back down Anne’s old street.

“Well, this is me,” she said, taking a tentative step towards her porch. “I had a great time tonight.”

Marcus didn’t want this night to end. The chemistry was still there. He’d always thought it might be. But now...there was no doubt. They stood there in silence for 30 seconds that seemed like a half-hour.

And then Anne spoke up.

“I never told you this,” said Anne. “But our first few years of high school...I definitely had feelings for you. But I just thought you wanted to be friends then.”

Marcus was thunderstruck.

“And by the time you DID make your move, I was with Steve,” said Anne. “And he was...enough. He provided for me. He already had a job. And I think he saw you as a threat. He asked me to stop spending so much time with you. I was young. I said yes. He made me happy.”

Marcus was still stunned, but he heard the past tense there. “Made?”

Anne looked at her shoes, sighed, and made a decision.

“Steve’s been cheating on me, Marcus,” she said. Even in a dream, it felt good to get that off of her chest. “I saw him kissing another woman at the garage a few months ago. I followed his car to her house.” She started to cry.

Marcus gave her a hug. “And you have no doubts?”

Anne sniffled. “None.”

Marcus waved the camera.

“I might be able to fix things for you, if you’ll let me try. You’d be amazed what Photoshop can do these days.”

Click.

EPILOGUE

Tuesday, 8:30 a.m.

16-year-old Marcus Roberts honked his horn.

The door opened, and out stepped a teenage vision of beauty in a T-shirt and jeans, carrying her backpack and an athletic bag.

Annie.

Marcus had spent most of the night explaining the camera (and he still wasn’t 100 percent sure that Anne had accepted that this was reality and not a dream), but he and Anne had decided that, maybe, there really were second chances in life.

They were going back to high school.

For a few days, anyway.

“What’s with the bag?” Marcus asked.

“Oh, I thought I might try out for cheerleading,” Annie remarked. “I saw you eyeing that Jenny Taylor girl at the football game yesterday. I know you have a thing for older girls, but I totally think I can fill out that uniform better than her...don’t you?” She winked.

Marcus smiled. Things were picture-perfect.

The End.

 

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