You spend the morning trudging through the usual things you'd do on a Saturday morning; having a hearty breakfast, catching up with any TV shows you'd missed throughout the week and browsing your social media sites. However you found yourself worrying over how unhealthy breakfast was and surprising your family members by having a bowl of oatmeal instead of the usual fry-up. Your favourite shows failed to capture your attention except when you complained about how unrealistic and contrived it all was. It took you a frustratingly long time to navigate your computer to get onto Facebook, only to discover you'd gone through Internet Explorer instead of your usual browser and therefore weren't logged in. You couldn't recall your log-in details and didn't want to go through the tedious process again so you gave up to get ready for soccer practice.
You'd hoped that it would be easier than this to adjust to being yourself again. And while you were slowly relearning your tech-heavy life, that feeling of dysphoria seemed to be growing worse. Whenever you looked at your hands, you expected to see the calloused, meaty fingers of your father instead of the smooth and slender digits you currently possessed. While you were pleased to be back in shape, you also didn't feel right without that round gut protruding from your stomach. And you missed stroking the coarse, prickly hairs that used to surround your mouth. You glanced towards the place you'd hidden the socks. You couldn't even bring yourself put them back on so soon, although it would be a quick way to feel normal again...
You were jolted from your thoughts by your phone's ringtone. Shaking your head clear, you grab it and find a text from George asking how you were after yesterday's events. You wanted to phone him back and explain everything that had gone wrong since seeing him last but you knew it would be better to tell him in person. Luckily he would be joining you at soccer practice. It takes you a couple of minutes to type out a simple "I'll explain before practice" reply to him and then as an after-thought, you slowly scroll through your contacts and slowly send a text to Colby asking him to also meet you before practice started. You sigh loudly, hoping you'd done what should have been a simple task correctly, and prepare yourself for soccer.
The car journey to the sports club was mostly silent as you focussed on keeping your thoughts together and on yourself, something that was hard to do when your dad was the one driving you. It felt surreal to be sitting next to the body you felt connected to instead of being inside it and driving yourself. Luckily your dad was a stickler for the highway code and required no distractions while driving, not even the radio. The only words he said for the entire journey were when you arrived at the sports club. "Now remember that George's mother is collecting you after the game since I'll be heading to the mall with your mother. Have a good practice son!". You wave him goodbye and pat your pocket, glad that you remembered your house keys.
George calls out your name and you turn around to see Colby and him sitting on a bench outside of the club. Both of them looked equal parts pleased and relieved to see you were a teenager again, if only they knew your current situation. You walk over to them and exchange greetings. George was the first to question you. "It must be great to be back in your own body huh?". You reply with a non-committal grunt. He nods and says "I guess there were some advantages to being an adult but at least there's no more weird memory problems!"
Colby agrees and says "While I'm happy you're back to being yourself again, and I don't mean this in a bad way, but why did you tell me to meet you here? A simple 'I'm OK!' text would have been fine".
You sigh and say "Well you see, I sort of accidentally left the socks and shoes on all night..."
"What!? How could you 'accidentally' do something stupid like that?!"
"What!? What idiotic thought made you think that would be a good idea?!"
"I don't know! I came home and was ready to finally put the shoes on and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in my so... My room fully dressed and with no memory of ever being me! It wasn't until I saw myself, I mean my dad, in the hallway that I even realised anything was wrong. It took an hour for the socks to turn me back into myself and I don't think it fully worked".
George groaned and said "Dude you're still slipping on the pronouns"
"I know, that's the problem. I just don't feel like me. You know how every time we changed into a person, we always felt at home in that body, like we belonged?". The two teens nodded slowly. "Well I don't feel that right now. It's like I'm inhabiting the wrong body. I hoped that it would disappear throughout the day but I feel the same as I did this morning, maybe worse".
It was silent for a minute before Colby finally spoke. "I just knew those socks would be a problem... I think you need to take them back to where it is you bought them".
George grunted in approval "He's right, I bet whoever sold you those socks could fix things for you. Where did you say you bought them again?"
"It was just some new clothing store a few blocks down from my house, opposite the park. But I can't just miss practice, we have our first match in a couple of weeks and we need to be ready! And we know soccer's a huge part of my life. Maybe it'll jump-start my memories and I'll feel like myself in no time"
Colby was about to disagree when George butted in "I hate to say it but you're also right. You knew nothing about bowling yesterday yet it seemed to really start the decline into being your dad. Maybe soccer could do the same thing to get you back to feeling yourself".
Colby sighed and said "Well I guess it makes sense... I'll be waiting for you here after you're finished". You grin and say farewell to him as you follow George to the changing rooms inside the sports club. There were already others inside getting changed. You see plenty of familiar faces and yet you were struggling to remember most of your team mates' names. You try to shake that feeling and go over every person's name while slipping into your soccer uniform. You managed to name three quarters of the team before giving up and heading outside to the soccer pitch.
Looking around and seeing everyone on the pitch made you smile and gave you a feeling of pride You hoped that this would kick-start your recovery. Soccer to you was like bowling to your dad. You were practically a natural at the sport and loved everything about the game. You were the best striker in your team and had even won awards for your skills in the sport. Your warm-up jog around the pitch went well and your stretching routine was like clockwork. But your hopes were dashed the moment you started the actual soccer training. It all began with the dribbling exercise. You were normally the first to finish the training but you kept kicking the ball too hard and losing control, finishing well after your fellow peers. Things only got worse as the practice went on, your team mates kept tackling and stealing the ball from you, you kept wildly missing the goal and even controlling the ball was a struggle. You ended up sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else play while your coach chastised your terrible performance so close to your first match of the season.
After that pathetic practice, with everyone asking you what was wrong and you having to explain you were coming down with a cold, you sulked back to the changing rooms and took off your uniform. As you neatly folded your shirt to put back into your bag, one of your team mates came up to you. He was a tall guy with dark skin and a thick thatch of uncontrollably curly hair. You could just about remember his name, Chris. He nudged you with his elbow and enthusiastically said "Hey, congrats on becoming a man dude!".
You feel a pit in your stomach at the words. How could he know? "Wh-what?" you stutter to his beaming face.
He points at at your torso and says "Your chest hair bro. How long have you been hiding that from us?"
You were about to deny it but you put your hand to where he was pointing and froze. Glancing down, you can see a small patch of hair in-between the groove of your chest, along with several hairs surrounding your nipples. There was also a thin line of hair stretching from your belly-button down into your pants. Hair that definitely did not exist before you arrived at the sports club. You laugh nervously and say "Oh, you know, I barely even noticed".
The teen scoffed and said "Don't be so modest. I'd kill to have that, but my family gene's aren't really known for their body hair you know?"
You again laugh nervously and nod, failing to hide how awkward you felt. You start getting changed in double time, trying not to freak out over how the clothes you wore to practice now felt noticeably tighter and shorter on your body. You say goodbye to Chris and almost run out of the room. As you leave the sports club, you spot Colby still sitting on the same bench you left him on earlier, doing something on his phone. You grab him by the shoulder, making him yelp and almost drop his phone. He groans "Come on, I was about to break the high score!".
You ignore his whining and say "Something is going very wrong, look!". You lift up your shirt to reveal the patch of hair that should not be.
"Hey, I didn't know you had che-"
"I don't!" You interrupt with a touch of stress. "Or I shouldn't! It just appeared during practice! And my clothes, they're like two sizes too small for me now. It's like I'm changing into someone but I'm nowhere near the socks, this is bad!".
Colby's look of interest in your body hair quickly turned to distress. "Very bad... I think I'd remember that facial hair". You gasp and throw a hand to your face, feeling sparse bristles decorating your chin. Colby cringed at your surprise and said "Sorry, I thought you'd already noticed!"
While panicking about your growing, patchy beard, George strolled out of the changing room and joined the two of you. He sees the worry on your faces and asks "OK what happened now?". He leans closer to you and says "Hey, I think you got some dirt on your face". He reaches out a hand to brush it off but you swat it away, giving him an angry glare. "What? I was just -".
You stop him and fill him in on what's just gone wrong. Just as you finish explaining, a car horn startles the three of you. George's mom had just pulled up in her SUV. You pick up your bag and open the door for your friends before entering yourself. The woman in the driver's seat turned around with a smile that faltered upon seeing your anxious face. "Was practice that bad huh?" she asked jokingly. You smile weakly and nod your head. "Well you're always going to have your off days. Especially as you're coming up to your first match. That's something to smile about huh? I'm sure you'll...".
You ignore her excessive talking, somewhat relieved that she probably didn't notice your growth spurt or else you'd have to come up with a fabricated story that made sense. This gave you time to form a plan of action. You needed to get into your house to get your socks and head straight to that shop before you changed even more.