I wasn't sure of how to react to waking up and finding myself in a rehoming centre*/prison; was it normal? What even was a rehoming centre? Considering that there were several others like me, and they seemed to act as if this was normal, I guess that answered my first question. The other thing on my mind was the change in my physiology – if it HAS changed. My arms started off somewhat skinny then grew around halfway to be somewhat thick, my hands and fingers were rather large compared to their normal size, and that two fingers were gone; I didn't know what my feet looked like but my legs repeated the thin-to-thick appearance of my arms. As I looked across myself I noticed I was completely naked, which struck me as odd, despite all of the others in the room being naked too – at least my genitals didn't seem to be visible. I noticed a blue jacket and white half-cap on a hook opposite, I tried to reach out for them but the distance was too long and a cat in a cell underneath said hanger gave me a look.
"What are you even doing? Are you claustrophobic or something?" he huffed. I pointed to the clothes, which brought up a look of great confusion, which made sense seeing as everyone seems to be naked all the time. The cat eventually got bored of looking at me and went to sleep, and at around that time some humans came in.
It was a family of around 3, a mother, father and child – in this case a boy. I noticed someone was in the boy's arms; a Doberman with a yellow collar around their neck, with a blue bone pattern printed onto it. I glanced at the dog and decided to try to make conversation with him.
"Hey, kid."
The dog didn't respond, instead the kid did, who turned and stared at me.
Crap…
"Heya! Do you want me to be your owner?" he calmly replied.
"Wait what? How and why am I even here?"
"Well, from what I've learned you were brought here since you had no owner."
"Sooo… it's not a prison then."
"Why would you think it was?"
"Because I suddenly found myself here against my will and… anyway there's too much dialogue cluttering up the paragraph. So in favour of the plot and since I want out ASAP, yes, I'd like for you to be my 'owner'." The kid then approached his parents and started asking them if they could pick me which – since he pulled the 'I'll-look-adorable-to-convince-them-and-possibly-threaten-to-cry-if-they-refuse' look and the parents falling for it – they did.
Before long they were driving home with me in the middle back seat. I put the half-cap on – which I had managed to swipe off the hanger – and had the compelling feeling to remember my name before any of them could come up with ideas on what to call me, which I failed to achieve. As I looked around the rather generic car it occurred to me that I was shorter than the kid and probably only go up to about halfway up his torso despite the fact that this kid couldn't be possibly over the age of 10, and I was sure I was at least 16. The Doberman shuffled over – he was on the left seat by the way – to get closer to me and make conversation.
"Hey."
"…"
"Name's Lemon."
"… and exactly why is that your name? It's not like you're a purple cat whose surname is 'Sandwich' so naming them after a flavour of jam works."
"It's… a long story…" he blushed, somehow said blush being visible despite there being fur. In hindsight, it'd probably be best not to ask, thanks to the Internet's OTHER meaning of lemon.
Meanwhile a Sphinx and a Minotaur were bickering about world choice.
"Dude! I told you choosing this world was a bad idea! Now look at what's happened!"
"Relax; I'll just go make him my Avatar." The Minotaur facepalmed.
"Did I mention about the King?"
"Yeah and…?"
"You are going to get us both screwed…"