Harry sulks at home, unable to stop from experimenting with his body.

After leaving the coins with the bonehead, I headed back up the ladder into my living room and struggled to figure out what to do with myself. My day off was basically ruined. There was no way I could go outside, not looking like this, and reaching out to any of my friends wasn't the best idea considering I'd have to explain my current conundrum. Even if they believed me, which they might not, I'd never live down accidentally magicing myself into jailbait. Under self-imposed house arrest, I went to lay back down on the couch and read my book, but a few pages in I had to set it down. It was hard to concentrate on the words, it just felt like I had no energy to expend on anything.

It then hit me that I was in a teenage girl's body, an especially hot teenage girl's body, with boobs and everything. Not only that, but there wasn't any ethical dilemma that would have come if I was some kind of exact copy of someone else. I'll be honest: teenage hormones were flooding my brain at that point, and when combined with the remaining masculinity in my brain, it's pretty obvious what I did next. I learned a lot about the female body that day, and just as my fingers were drenched in my juices, reeling from my third orgasm as I splayed across the couch, I heard someone using keys to open my apartment door.