"It's going to be one of those days," Mathew griped to himself, angry by not only what he was seeing, but also what he was holding.
Naked, the pyjamas he'd awoken in dumped unceremoniously on the floor at his feet, the clean clothes he'd picked out to wear in a neat stack next to him, he sat on the bed and stared at the panties he'd selected without really thinking about what he was doing, his hands and feet, and the garments on the floor. The underwear he was holding was clearly a pair of woman's panties and weren't something he'd normally wear. Yet, holding them, he thought how soft they were and how comfortable to could be. Studying the blue floral pattern, he was disturbed by the fact that he thought they actually looked cute as he absently fiddled with the tag, which had a number 6 printed on it.
His gaze shifting to his hands and feet, and he sighed. He knew there was no point in denying what he was seeing. They were smaller, daintier, more feminine, that they were a girl's appendages. This left him wondering when and how he'd changed, as he was certain that when he went to sleep, his feet and hands were normal. His mind leaping to the fragmented dream, he wondered if it hadn't been a dream. Looking at the pyjamas he'd woken up in, a tight, long-sleeve pastel yellow shirt with a v-neck that buttoned shut and a tight pair of white leggings with flowers printed on them, he sighed again. Perturbed by the fact that he'd woken up to wearing woman's clothing and not what he'd gone to bed in, he set the underwear he was holding off to one side, determined that he wouldn't wear them.
Thoughts drifting aimlessly, Mathew found himself thinking about the dream. In fragments, it came to him how he'd awoken to the faintest hints of sunrise poking through the curtains. A look at his watch revealed that it was around five-ish in the morning and almost rolling over to go back to sleep, he instead noted the mess on him and the lack of clothing. Disgruntled by this, he stood and, everything seeming to shift, found himself in a bathroom, showering. Again, everything jumped and he was pulling on a clean pair of pyjamas. Something wasn't right about them. But, too tired to figure out what, his penis and testicles slipping easily between his legs, Mathew gazed a moment down at the smooth flatness of the front of the pants, shrugged, yawned and crawled back into bed.
No longer certain it had been a dream, he wondered if maybe he had done something in his sleep that had changed him, then awoken to clean himself up, but had been too tired to realise what he had been doing. Disturbed by this, Mathew stood and reached for his clothes. Looking down as he dressed, thinking that, if he didn't know any better, that his dick and balls looked not only a titbit smaller, but also lower than they normally were, he huffed in agitation when he discovered the shirt he was pulling on didn't sit right on his shoulders and in fact kept slipping off. Missing completely that he'd pulled on the panties that he'd swore he wouldn't wear, Mathew stalked across the bedroom, out the door and toward the nearest bathroom. There, missing completely it was a different one than he normally used, he stared at his reflection a moment before coming to the conclusion that he'd been right in what he'd observed and that his shoulders were smaller.
Distraught by this, thinking that the only thing that said he was a man was his height, weight, head, voice and his penis and testicles, he moaned silently as he leaned against the sink. Muttering, "I've got to get out of here. I do not want to be, cannot be, turned into a girl," he turned away from the mirror and exited the room.
Out in the hall, he peered up and down it, staring absently at the closed entrances to the eight bedrooms, thinking. Worried about what was happening to him, and what he saw would eventually happen, Mathew adjusted his clothes, which he realised were starting to become too baggy to wear. Needing an option that would take him away from the cabin, the woods and allow him to go back to the way things were, he wished that he'd never agreed to go hiking in Aokigahara Forest. At a loss as to how to acquire such an option, he sighed, adjusted his shirt, hiked up his pants and decided that, first, he needed breakfast.
Downstairs, he started toward the kitchen, but stopped when he saw someone sleeping on the couch. Immediately his mind flashed to the hope that it was the owner and that he was about to be rescued, but then his hopes were dashed as he drew closer to the sleeping form. Looking at the person, noting that whomever they were, they were sleeping with a plush animal, Mathew noted the pyjamas they were wearing, which he thought to be an odd choice for an adult, and immediately wondered if the person might be like some overgrown child or something. Wishing he'd taken more then one psychology course, he was a business major and only needed on psych course to fulfill a science requirement, Mathew studied the grown man a moment longer before reaching out.
Gently, he shook the man's shoulder. When he sensed the man was waking up, Mathew whispered, "Hey. Hey. I need you to wake up. Wake up and tell me if you're the owner of this cabin. And, if so, how can I get out."
To his alarm, and surprise, the man abruptly went from a state of being asleep to one of being awake. Scooting away from him, Mathew watched as the man clutched the plush tightly and look wildly about before finally looking at Mathew. Watching as the man slowly began to rock back and forth, observing the he seemed to be avoiding looking directly at him, Mathew wondered, again, if there was something mentally wrong with the man. As if sensing what Mathew was thinking, the twenty-five-year-old man watched as the man, who he guessed to be about nineteen or twenty, "Certainly no younger than eighteen and no older than twenty three," leap off the couch and backed up. As he did this, the man began making a soft hooting noise that Mathew didn't know if he should find it disturbing or comical.
Holding up his hands, Mathew told the man, "Hey. Hey. I'm not going to hurt you," then, placing a hand on his chest, he said, "My name is Mathew. What's yours?" and waiting, he watched the man to see what he'd do.