Your feelings of relief are short-lived. You're back in the locker room, twirling your combination lock and opening the metal door. Inside your locker is not the outfit you had on previously.
You pull a baby doll tee-shirt, a skirt, and more from inside the small locker. The shirt is lavender with white hems on the collar, sleeves, and bottom. The skirt is made of faded blue denim, and looks like it could barely reach halfway to your ankles. There are also some white stockings and a pair of light blue trainers with white hearts on the sides.
"What the hell is this?" you announce, holding up the outfit to show everyone in the locker room. "Who got into my locker?"
You expect them to start laughing and congratulating themselves on humiliating you. Instead, everyone looks at you with expressions of confusion or annoyance.
"Dude," one of the bigger guys says. "What are you talking about?"
"Somebody figured out my combination and switched my clothes. Where's my stuff?"
"That IS your stuff, dingus," the guy says without showing a single sign that he's pulling a prank. "If you're ashamed to wear that sissy shit all the time, have the balls to admit it was your idea. Don't pretend we had anything to do with it."
You're completely flummoxed. Nobody's snickering. Nobody's grinning. You can't believe it, but it seems you weren't set-up. At least, not by any of these guys.
Instead of arguing with him, you fall silent and stuff the clothes back in the locker. You'll wear your gym clothes for the rest of the day, if you have to.
You grab your backpack and turn to leave, but you end up tripping over your own feet and fall flat on the hard tile floor.
Now comes the laughing. "Whassa matter?" another guy chuckles. "Boy shoes too big on your girly girl feet?"
You say nothing as you carefully stand back up. You don't understand why you're suddenly having trouble walking, when you had no problem just a minute ago. Yes, your feet had shrank inexplicably, but had it just happened? It had seemed the changes had been over for a while now.
You try to walk again, more carefully this time, and your shorts begin to slip off your waist. Your shirt feels oddly uncomfortable as well.
"What the hell is going on?" you quietly mutter. By this time, the locker room has emptied out and only a few other boys remain. You become acutely aware of how little time you have before the bell rings to end the period.
No matter what you try, you can't get your shorts to stay on. If anything, they're fitting worse and worse. And for some crazy reason, your loose shirt is annoying you so much you have to take it off.
Standing in your boxers, in the now-empty room, you shudder at the one single choice you have to make. The troubles you just had with your clothes seem too convenient...as if something is forcing you into this new outfit.
There's no underwear in the locker to go with the girl's clothes. You check your boxers and realize they're staying on pretty well for now. Small blessings, you figure. You pick up the skirt and slowly step into it. The feeling is so foreign you have to force yourself to put them all the way on. They fit your waist perfectly, though your boxers make that fit slightly uncomfortable. The skirt is just barely longer than your boxers, but you worry less about this and more about the fact that you're going to be in girl's clothing for the rest of the day.
Next, you slip on the shirt. As you pull the collar over your head, your ponytail snags it and the hairband is yanked off. You pull all of the hair through the collar, then look around on the floor for the band. You can't seem to find it. Hair dangles around your head as you're bending over, and you notice that it's grown again. It looks like it's now almost down to your waist, and unfortunately you have nothing else to tie it back with.
You regard your shirt. It hugs your torso snugly, and like the skirt, it's a perfect fit. The white socks and sneakers are as well, making you very uneasy.
You remember what the boys said to you. It sounded like they had seen you wearing girl clothes before. But you never have, before now. What could make them think that?
There are definitely otherworldly forces at work here, and for a reason you can't figure out, they're conspiring to humiliate you by making you look and dress like a girl. Even worse, they're making the rest of the world think you've always been doing this, retroactively destroying your reputation and making them oblivious to the fact that something impossible is happening to you.
You've never been more upset, more frustrated than you are now. Hearing the period bell ring, you storm out of the locker room, hair flying about, skirt flapping against your smooth legs obnoxiously. You can't go on with your regular day, not like this. You've got to do something.