You stare at the colorful selection. If you found the right one, would it return you to normal? Maybe, but what if just touching one got more of that lube on you, and you found yourself putting on an even weirder one? While thinking about maybe getting a pencil or something so you can sort through the pile, you shiver again. Sorting the pile can wait-- you need to get a shirt on! Even if your other clothes haven't changed, wearing a dress like sweatshirt will be an improvement! You turn around and automatically head upstairs...
...wait! Since when has your apartment had stairs?!? Heck, you live on the GROUND floor!
Turning in a slow circle, for the first time you notice that your surroundings are different. You came from a kitchen over... there, and automatically cut through the living room to this stairway, thinking your bedroom was... where? Now that you are consciously thinking about it, you are uncertain which one of the doors up here is yours. Taking a deep breath, you decide to just open the first one.
Inside you do find a bedroom-- one with sports trophies, a mound of unwashed clothes (maybe there is a laundry basket under there), an unmade bed, and a poster of a barely clad woman draped over a motorcycle. Looking at the woman in the poster is distracting, and makes you feel funny... Uhm, actually you DO know what that funny feeling is, so why does it seem so new to you...?
"Hey, Squirt, what'cha doing in my room?" asked a deep voice behind you. Turning you see an adult-- no, a teenager (you perspective seems skewed by these changes), maybe 16, standing in the door. He looks athletic, dark brown hair, well muscled and tanned. He is drinking some sort of sports drink from a can. He's got a large duffel bag like sports bag over one shoulder. For some reason, you think it has lacrosse gear in it.
He looks where you were looking and grins.
"Hey, so you like her too, huh? I guess that means you might finally get to be a man some day!"
He comes into the room and ruffles your hair. You find yourself blushing at having been caught looking at a girl, and feel a twinge in your cock as it decides to come to attention. If your "brother" notices, he doesn't say anything. Actually, he seems to be paying more attention to the poster than you at the moment.
"Hey, Scott, you'd better go get a shirt on," he advises, returning his gaze to you. "Mom'll be home and second, and you know how she is about us wearing our clothes for supper! 'No shoes, no shirt, no service!' or whatever that old saying is."
"O.K.," you say, mostly because you have no idea what else to say. How long has it been since you lived at home? It dawns on you that, actually, you don't know what the answer is! Hoping to hide your confusion, you turn and leave the room.
Almost without realizing it, you find yourself in front of another door, this one with a small, neat sign on it reading "Scott."
You carefully open the door, and see a surprisingly neat bedroom. A laptop computer set up on a desk in one corner, a flat screen television across from a neatly made bed. Some books in a bookcase, with the twisted remains of a model rocket on top. It looks as if the model rocket must have gone up, flipped, and done a power dive into the ground-- dirt is still clinging to the plastic nosecone. You walk into the room.
Opening the closet, you find a selection of shirts, pants, shoes, model rocketry gear, and other stuff common for a boy your age. You poke through it, then go over to the dresser and look through that. Yep, more boy's clothing! Selecting a two tone polo shirt, a pair of sock, and some gym shoes, you get dressed.
Looking in a mirror, you see a young boy, maybe just starting puberty staring back at you. Trying to find any trace of your former self in the reflection, you feel a rising panic. Why is this happening?! Who is responsible?!
Just as you remember the note, you hear your brother call up from the kitchen.
"Hey! What's this stuff on the table?"