Luke's dad, for form's sake, knocked once before he barged into his son's room.
"Luke, your mom wanted me to..." He came to a sudden halt when Luke tried to pull the sheets over him, forgetting about the wet spot.
An astute father, it took him only a second to put two and two together. "Don't worry, Luke. It's perfectly natural," he told his son. "Remember, we talked about it?"
"It?" Luke asked, embarrassed and even more ashamed when his voice strained as he spoke. "You mean that sex talk when I was 10?"
His dad only smiled. "And now two years later, all of that stuff is coming true, right?"
Luke stared incredulously. "Dad, I'm not a kid!"
"I know that," his dad said, even reaching down a hand and patting Luke's bare shoulder. "You're twelve... that's almost a teenager."
"No, dad," Luke flailed. What should he do? His dad appeared to be under the impression that Luke was twelve, not eighteen.
"I'll just add this to the laundry hamper," his dad said, taking the wet, sticky sheet. "You get dressed and downstairs for breakfast on the double, sport."
When his dad, thankfully, left the room, Luke scrambled out of the bed and raced toward his dresser. "They're gone!" Luke cried, finding the condoms had vanished overnight.
It wasn't the only change. All of his high school sports trophies had vanished, and the room still displayed some of his action figures. It was definitely a room for a boy, not a young man.
"Of course the condoms vanished," he realized. "Twelve-year-olds don't keep condoms in their room."
If using the condoms had turned him into a twelve-year-old boy and given him a suitable room to match, also seemingly leaving his parents with the impression their son was, and always had been, a twelve-year-old boy, he needed to get in touch with his uncle.
He would have to hope his uncle could put things right.