The Shrinking Freshman

The last thing Chet Richardson expected to be doing is fight a giant rat with a sewing needle. Well, the rat was not exactly giant; Chet was just now just barely four inches tall. The rat seemed angry and very hungry. It lunged at Chet; with all his strength, he jabbed the sewing needle in the rat's nose and pulled it out. The rat screamed and backed off for a second shaking it's head. It quickly gathered itself, though, and scratched Chet's bare stomach with it's sharp claws.

Oh, yes, if shrinking wasn't strange enough, Chet was only clad in his underwear. The briefs, for some reason shrunk with him. Chet, then stabbed the rat in the eye, and once again pulled out the needle. This time the rat took a little longer to compose himself. It turned it's other eye to the shrunken freshman and lunged at Chet again, knocking the young man down. Now the rat was on top of him; hissing and shrieking in rage. Chet had a brief flash of his tombstone: Chester Todd Richardson, Jr. born September 1st, 1967, died March 3rd 1987. He wouldn't even make it to 20 years old if the rat had it's way. The said rat then bit Chet on the arm trying to loosen his hold on the needle.
It worked but the poor kid managed to barely hold onto the needle. With a last rush of adrenaline, Chet did manage to stab it in the stomach. The rat screamed in pain, Chet with the needle still in hand managed to push the rat off of him. There was now blood on the floor, both Chet's and the rat's. The rodent drew in it's breath, weakened but still enraged. It hissed and leapt, once again towards the scrawny guy.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

"Chet," said Jimmy Craven, his roommate, "are you doing okay?"
"Yeah," replied Chet Richardson, "why do you ask?"
"Well," said Jimmy, "you look a little thin; have you been losing weight?"
Chet rolled his eyes. As if he needed to be reminded he was shorter and skinnier than Jimmy.
"Very funny, Jimmy," said Chet, "you know I'm smaller than you. You don't have to rub it in."
"I'm not," said Chet's 6'5" 220LB roommate," I'm serious you look thinner."
"Well," replied Chet, "I can assure I'm not; I'm still the same 5'10" 140LB roommate I've always been."
Jimmy said nothing. Actually, Chet's statement was not totally accurate: he was technically 5'9 and 3/4", he just rounded it off to make him feel better, and as far as his weight, the 140LBs might be true if he was fully clothed with a jacket and probably soaking wet. He was closer to 135 LBs. Chet had never had good image about his body. On top of everything else, he was scrawny, but not perfectly proportioned. He had a stomach "pooch" i.e., a belly. It wasn't huge but it was enough for Chet to feel self conscious and he knew other people noticed it when he was in his swimming trunks. Chet Richardson the misshapen freak of Clarkson county.
"You didn't eat much for breakfast," said Jimmy.
"Look, just drop it, you worry too much," replied Chet, "besides, I have to get to Biology class."
"Okay," said Jimmy, "see you later,"
"See you," said Jimmy's roommate as he turned down the hall to his class.
Jimmy looked after him concerned. He didn't tell Chet this part, but not only did his roommate look thinner; he looked shorter as well.

Chet reached his Biology class and took a seat. He pulled his notebook out of his bookbag and got read for the professor to lecture. While he was doing this, Angela Thompson sat beside him and started doing the same thing.
Then, Angela started staring at Chet with concern. She stared long enough that Chet said,
"Is something wrong, Angie?"
"Not with me," said the young woman, "but are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, why?, replied Chet.
"Well," said Angie, "you look like you've lost some weight."
Chet just shook his head. Not again.
"Oh for Pete's sake," replied the blond headed blue eyed guy, "you sound like Jimmy. He said the same thing."
"Well," said Angie, "then maybe you should listen since both of us noticed you look thinner. Are you sure you're not sick?"
"I feel fine," said Chet who then put his hand to his forehead in a bit of exasperation. This caused his elbow to knock his pen down. Chet, then stood up to get it when he felt his pants slipping. Fortunately, he caught them before they fell completely down. He tightened his belt. Angela gave him an "I told you so" look.
"These pants must have stretched somehow," the freshman said.
"Oh yes because your waist is SO wide," said Angie sarcastically.
"They're just older jeans," said Chet, "me taking them on and off for a period of time must have stretched them."
Angie didn't say anything further. For one thing, the professor had come up to lecture. Maybe after class she could convince Chet to go to the infirmary. Losing weight was not healthy especially for someone as skinny as him. Hopefully, it wasn't too serious a problem.

After an hour, the lecture came to a close, and the students started to get up and leave. Chet slowly and cautiously got up and grabbed the top of his pants as if he expected them to slip down again. They didn't, but they did feel looser.
"Chet," said Angie, "I think you need to go to the infirmary and let Dr. Hopkins examine you."
"Oh, come on, Angie," said Chet, "I'm fine."
However, Angela was not as easily dissuaded as Jimmy was. Angie was a very good friend to Chet; not in the boyfriend and girlfriend way; more like a brother and sister. In fact, she viewed him as a younger brother so needless to say, she felt protective of him.
"Look," said Angie, "you're clearly not all right. It might not be anything, but it's good to rule it out. And what are you going to do if you lose so much weight, your pants fall down like what almost happened now."
"Okay, Okay," said Chet said.
"Well, then," said Angie, "let's go."
"You're going with me,?" he asked.
"Of course, I am," she replied, "I know you; you'd avoid going then lie to me about it later."
Chet could tell that his friend was in protective mode. He, actually, was grateful for their friendship. As stated, they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend; they'd actually tried dating at the beginning of the year but they both found out they were better as friends. They just didn't have that "spark"

"Angela was right to make you come here, Chet," said Dr. Hopkins, "you've lost quite a bit of weight."
"What do you mean?" asked Chet as he put his shirt on.
"I mean you've become pretty underweight."
"You mean I'm not 140 pounds?"
Dr. Hopkins shook her head and stated,
"Chet you never WERE 140 pounds. Why do you think I had you strip to your underwear; I know you won't give me an honest answer about your size. By the way, you need to stop feeling bad about the way you look; not every guy is a body builder or an athlete." She paused and then added, "It's okay you're just 5'8"."
"5'8"," said Chet, "I'm 5'10".
"Chet," said Dr. Hopkins...,
"All right," said the freshman, "I did exaggerate that; I'm actually 5'9 and 3/4 inches."
Dr. Hopkins frowned and said, "Not according to the measurements I took."
"But that can't be right," said Chet, "when I had my physical before I started college, that's the height my doctor said I was."
Dr. Hopkins looked thoughtful for a second and then asked, "What time of day was it when you had the exam."
"What?", said the young man.
"Was it morning or afternoon?"
"It was morning at 8 o'clock."
"That explains it. You see during the day as we go about our business our height compresses slightly; in other words by the afternoon we can be slightly shorter than we were in the morning."
"Almost 2 inches smaller," said Chet, a little unnerved.
"Well," said the doctor, "I know you have a tendency to slouch so that might be a factor. By the way, you probably should work on your posture; you'd probably feel better."
"Uh, speaking of that am I sick," asked Chet.
"No," said Dr. Hopkins, "you're just really underweight for your size. I'd recommend eating more protein and well just eating a little bit more. That plus working on your posture should help. So just try to gain some more weight by eating better and trying to exercise more. If you don't gain weight, you might end up sick."