A Rubber Room

You wake up, blearily staring at your clock. Noon. Definitely didn't mean to sleep this long. Rubbing your eyes to try and push away some of the haze left from the night before, you pick up your alarm to try and figure out why it didn't go off. It feels kind of soft... and come to think of it, it looks oddly blue. You pull back your blankets, but they make a weird squeaking noise and they feel strange to the touch. Even when your feet touch the floor, they sink into it just slightly and it feels oddly smooth.

With the sleep finally leaving your eyes, you realize why everything seems so strange: your entire room is covered in blue rubber. Your bed and sheets, your alarm clock, all the furniture, everything is covered in a somewhat thick layer of shiny blue latex. The only thing that seems to remain untouched is you and the pair of underwear you'd worn to bed.

For some reason, your first thought is to check the rest of your clothes. Opening your dresser, you're met by nothing but more blue. Shirts, underpants, socks, all now apparently made of blue latex. You check your closet and find the same situation: sweaters and pants all showing that same shiny blue. You rush out of your room, the doorknob emitting a particularly loud squeak as you turn it, and run for the kitchen to check your food. All blue, all rubber, all totally inedible. You rush to your bathroom, finding that even your prized throne hasn't escaped a sapphire coat. Finally, you've had enough. Rushing to your front door, you... find that it's vanished. All that's left in its place is a soft, rubbery wall.

A purring noise pulls your attention behind you, the blue cat from the night before staring at you intently, slowly stepping towards you. You instinctively rush past it and back towards your room, slamming the door shut behind you. It doesn't even try to stop you as you do, but then, it's clear why it wouldn't - there's no way for you to get out of here now.