Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling. Feeling confused, but also content and comfortable, Brian felt like a fog was slowly lifting from his mind as he tried to recall the previous evening. Trouble that there were missing parts and that when he tried to remember the night before, finding the majority after he and Bethany had left was a blank, he blinked. Thinking for a minute longer, he decided that he was somehow back in his bed, that there had been no costume and that he and Bethany had spent the previous night the way they usually did and stretching, Brian rolled over and blinked some more.
Puzzled by what he was seeing, the sleepy feeling he was feeling quickly left him as he became aware of not only things concerning himself but also that for some reason he was looking at a bedroom that was not his own. Sitting up, feeling like he was sitting in something, he pushed the covers to the side and stared down at the blue and white night shirt he was wearing. Everything about the costume flooding back to him, even though he still struggled to remember the night before, Brian reached down and pulled up on the hem of the shirt, figuring that the first thing he should figure out is why it felt like he was sitting in something cold and sticky.
The smooth flat skin that was now his groin exposed, Brian wanted to cry as he found himself looking at the truth of what had happened to him. Missing the familiar sight of his penis and testicles, he spread his legs, leaned forward and tried to look between his legs, but finding it difficult, he reclined back. Still holding the hem of the shirt, knowing what he would have to do, he hesitated. Hating that the only way he’d get any sort of answer was to place his hand down between his legs, Brian took a couple deep breaths as he continued to stare at his groin. Trying to make himself place his hand down there, he began breathing heavy and found that he couldn’t and that, except for what he was seeing and what his mind was insisting was accurate, he didn’t want any sort of conformation that his genitals where now between his legs.
Mind beginning to wag a mental battle back and forth, Brian found himself torn between whether he was a thirteen years old girl, which seemed the more probable, or if he was a young man in his twenties, which he wanted desperately to believe, but also found laughable. Looking away, staring about the bedroom, which he noted wasn’t decorated and looked like it was merely a spare bedroom, he grimaced, pushed his shirt down, paused and before he could talk himself out of doing so, thrust his hand between his legs. Feeling something cold and sticky covering his vulva and a smidge of the surrounding area, Brian withdrew his hand and stared at.
At first he could not fathom what it was he was looking at. Pressing his forefinger and thumb together, then separating them, he studied the clear to white stringy, and kind of thick, goop that he thought looked a little like mucus. After a moment, he started giggling. Feeling elated, he whispered, “There’s no way I can be a girl, because that’s semen. Which means,” and reaching up to his neck with his other hand, Brain searched desperately for the seams that separated the mask from the torso section.
Scenario after scenario playing out inside his mind as he imaged that he had missed the seams when he first searched, that maybe there was something about the costume that prevented it from being removed on Hallowe’en, or that there some trick to taking off the bodysuit, “Like applying a type of solvent,” he muttered at one point, Brian eventually let his arms drop to his side when it became clear he wasn’t going to find the seam he was looking for. Distraught, hating it, he heaved a sigh and felt once again like his was going to cry. After a moment, he thought, “It isn’t fair. I don’t want to be a thirteen year old girl,” and climbing out of bed, the night shirt sticking to his bum for a couple seconds before unsticking, Brian glanced back at the bed, noted that the nothing had leaked through the garment and left a stain on the sheets, then looked down.
The nightshirt falling to the midpoint of his shins, Brian studied it for a moment as he tried to decide what he should do. White over blue sleeves, blue side-panels and a white front, it wasn’t one he’d ever seen before, which left him wondering where he’d gotten it. Looking about the bedroom, he considered that it had been loaned to him, which made him wonder who that might be. Scared, he hugged himself and deciding it was time to figure out where he was, “And find some place I can clean myself,” he mentally added, Brian started toward the door, but stopped after a couple steps.
A quick glance down, he thought something was amiss. Staring at the front of the nightshirt, letting his eyes drift down, slowly taking in everything, it suddenly came to him that the tail portion of the costume was missing. Reaching back, he felt about his tailbone region and confirming the added appendage was missing. Mystified by what might have become of it, unsure why it had disappeared, but he was still stuck wearing the bodysuit, Brian’s mind flashed to something and running a hand down his front, he pulled the neckline forward and looking down. Seeing only his breasts, he reached down, grasped the hem of the garment and lifting it, he ran his hand over his torso, discovering that the extra nipples had also vanished.
“What the heck is going on here?” he thought and letting go of the nightshirt, he decided, “First things first. Where am I? And where can I clean up?” and heading for the door, he pulled it open a crack and peered out at what was clearly a hallway.
Hesitant about rushing out, Brian waited a moment before figuring he had nothing to lose by looking for a bathroom. Swinging open the door, he stepped out into the hall and studying the four closed doors, he was about to try the closest, when the door two down from where he was opened and a woman stepped out.
Frozen, fearful, unsure what to do, he was caught off guard when the woman smiled and exclaimed, “Oh. I thought I heard someone up. I’m Ms Emcie.”
“Ms Emp-key?” Brian thought to himself and before he could stop himself, he whispered, “My name’s Karen,” and glancing about, he asked, “Where am I?” and, as an after thought, added, “And how did I get here?”
Still smiling, Ms Emcie told him, “Nice to meet you, Karen. I suppose there are some questions that need to be answered. Why don’t you come downstairs and I fix you breakfast. And as soon as my daughter, Cassie, wakes, we can start answering as many of the questions we all have.”
Unexpectedly feeling unsure of himself, but glad he was about to get some answers, Brian nodded and taking a step forward, he stopped. Awkwardness washing over him, he whispered, “Uh. Are there some facilities that I can, uh, use?”
The smile next leaving her, Ms Emcie explained, “Oh. Where are my manners. Of course,” and indicating the third door down, she, “Bathroom’s right there. Take your time. And when you are finished, just come on down and we can see what we can find for you for breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Brian breathed and starting for the indicated door, he slipped into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, he peered into the mirror above the sink.
The familiar looking feminine face he’d seen the previous evening in his girlfriend’s mirror peered back at him, now minus the fox ears on top of her head. Wondering what was going on, he turned his head, peered at his normal looking human ears, sighed and gazed about the sink. Spotting a bar of soap and several folded washcloths, he reached for the items and setting them close by, he asked himself, “Why did I say Karen? And why does it seem so natural to say my name is Karen,” as he reached down, grasped the hem of the nightshirt and pulled it up over his head.
Unable to figure out why it seemed more believable that his name was Karen and not Brian, he sighed again and turned on the hot water faucet. Reaching for the soap, he was about to thrust it under the spigot when there was a knock on the bathroom door. Before he could anything else, the door opened and the familiar voice of Mrs Emcie was saying, “I almost forgot,” but trailed off the instant she caught sight of Brian.
A feeling of shame and embarrassment washing over him, Brian hastily tried to cover himself by holding the nightshirt before his naked body. Blubbering out, “I’m sorry,” repeatedly, along with, “I think I ruined the shirt I was loaned,” “I was going to clean it,” and, “It was accident,” he was taken by surprise when the woman told him, “It’s all right, dear.”