Tighty Whities Virus: Seventh Grade

Steve groaned as he saw the wet paint sign. Maybe he could still go through? "Sorry, hallway's closed." The custodian said. Steve nodded grimly. That meant he would have to go through the 7th grader hallway, the last place any self-respecting upperclassman, let alone a senior, wanted to go.

Even before he turned the corner, he could hear the cacophony of their voices. He groaned, already able to smell the worst thing about the 7th grader hallway: the copious amounts of body spray they used.
"Gotta do it." He muttered. Maybe he could just hold his breath?
As he neared the hallway, he could have sworn he could actually see all the Axe floating in the air like a fog. He took a deep breath, but he was already too close. He coughed and strode forward, weaving his way through the crowd. Steve was over six foot, so he towered over all the 7th graders. Try as he might to hold his breath, he had to breathe and his head swam with the smells of a hundred different body sprays. How did they even stand it? He wondered, his vision blurring. He stumbled over to a wall, just to steady himself. What was wrong with him? He stared at the white brick, gathering himself. He had to get to class. He turned and realized he was now eye to eye with the seventh graders around him. What? How?
"You okay, dude?" One of the seventh graders asked.
"Um, yeah." He cleared his throat. His voice had not cracked like that in a long time! "I'm fine, just" he froze. That wasn't his voice. It was a prepubescent soprano, the voice he had had when he was in seventh grade! He looked down at himself and gasped. Baggy jeans, black hoodie with a Halo logo, this was what he had worn almost every day of seventh grade! What was going on?
"You must be new, hmm?" Steve did not answer.
"I... I gotta go." He tried to push past the actual seventh grader, but he refused to budge. He was bigger than Steve was now and he needed to put this new kid in his place.
"Hey, we're still talking." He said, a cruel smirk growing across his face. "What's the rush?"
"No rush." Steve stammered, wincing at his high voice. It had not deepened until 8th grade, if he remembered right.
"I was gonna say. Go too fast, you might lose your pants!" The bully yanked down Steve's jeans before he even knew what was happening. He yelped and tried to grab them. "Tighty whities? Score!" The bully exclaimed. Steve bent over to try to pull his pants back up, aware of all the eyes on him. He was a senior, not a seventh grader! The bully yanked him forward so hard that he fell to the floor. "Get his pants!" Steve tried to kick the bully's friends away as they yanked his jeans completely off. Now wearing only a hoodie and his tighty whities, they yanked him to his feet and dragged him down the hall, his white cotton clad butt visible to all the onlookers. He tried to cry for help, but the words died in his mouth as they threw him into a locker, plunging him into darkness.