Jim woke up from the strangest dream he ever had. Disoriented and with a slight headache, he sat up feeling something off and looked around him, trying to place himself wherever he was. He was in his room, but he was laying in the floor, just in front of... his closet? With sudden realization, a quick glance at the open closet and the full-length mirror inside proved that it wasn't indeed a dream. Jim looked like he had just raided a hooker's closet and put the contents in his own, not to mention the way he was attired. Carefully, he got up still shocked, not knowing what to do. With a shaking, manicured hand, he rubbed his lips, trying to wipe the makeup off, or at least smudge it a bit, anything, but his lips remained as red as ever. A quick try on the rest make it clear the makeup wasn't coming off for the moment. He looked at his hands, and how the longer fingernails made them look much daintier than they were. Not really hoping for it to work, he tried the necklaces, noting that they could be moved around but refused to move past his neck. Next he moved to the large hoops dangling from his now obviously pierced ears, but failed to take them out, not sure if it was his lack of proficiency having nails that long or the fact that they couldn't be removed, just as the other accessories in the first outfit. The only things that seemed removable so far were the lingerie and the shoes.
Jim felt a lump on his throat and some tears fell from his eyes. The lingerie, jewelry and makeup made him look like a slut, but still it was obviously him, even under all that makeup. He looked at the lingerie catalog, still lying on his bed. "Is this some sort of punishment?" he asked himself. He didn't know how something like this could even happen, but he needed to undo it before someone found out. "First things first, I needed some clothes to cover up, and obviously the ones in my room are not going to do..." muttered Jim, and looked down. He didn't dare to take off the panties and the bra, knowing that a different pair would appear on him, just like before, so he would settle on covering them up for now. He moved towards the door, nearly tripping at the first step. He was so overtaken by the situation, he even forgot to take those damned heels off. Kicking them off across the room, he proceeded barefoot. The moment he took a couple of steps, Jim felt something odd in his feet, but didn't pay much attention to it, thinking it was possible because of the shoes. He didn't know how much time he has been wearing them while he was out.
Walking into his parents's room, he switched the light on and opened the closet, picking a pair of pants and one t-shirt at random, along some socks from one of the drawers. After putting on the shirt, not without a bit trouble thanks to the hoops on his ears, he seated and donned the pants and the socks, the feeling of discomfort on his feet growing within moments that ended abruptly when he put on a pair of sneakers that were laying around. Getting on his feet, he looked in the mirror. If it wasn't for the short hair, it would look like someone took the head of a whore and put it on top of a teen boy body, but the clothes hid the garments below them quite well. Somewhat cheered up by this, he was on his way to the bathroom when he suddenly felt the familiar sensation again crossing his body, in the middle of the dark corridor. Rushing inside the bathroom, he flipped the light switch on and examined his reflection. Appalled, Jim could see how the clothes were changing at once. The shirt was already smaller, hugging his frame, and getting smaller within moments. The fabric was taking a dark shade of red and changing to vinyl , as it reformed itself around, exposing his belly and part of his back and finally turning into a halter top. The pants were also changing similarly in color and material, creeping up his legs and tightening at the same time. Upon reaching his knees, the two legs fused, forming a vinyl miniskirt that ended a bit above the middle of his thigh. At the same time, two rolls of fabric when up his legs, the two almost as challenging the other one to see who would get first to their destination, leaving a pair of fishnets that ended just below the skirt. And finally, a pair of knee-length black boots finished to change, as the former sneakers he was wearing arched, lifting his pointed feet several inches as heels sprouted under them. The changes ended with a tinkling sound, as several bracelets appeared on his wrists and a ring adorned his navel once again.
Stunned, Jim could only look at his reflection. If before the clothes gave him a slutty appearance, now he looked like real whore. Angry, he pulled in frustration at the bracelets, the skirt, the fishnets, the top, anything he could get a hold on, wanting to rip them off him, breaking several nails in the process. He opened the faucet and splashed some water on his face, rubbing it with a towel until he was sore, but the makeup remained perfect. Sitting on the floor, Jim began to cry, until he finally calmed down after some minutes. Sobbing, he noticed that the broken nails were again perfectly shaped and painted. "God, I'm now a freak... Why is this happening to me?" asked Jim between sobs.