The Swap

Zachary 3.1

The alarm goes off again. For a few seconds after I turn it off, I sit still and listen to the muffled noises that permeate the house. Is she running late? As I rub my eyes, something feels off. My face feels different, and so do my hands. I open my eyes to inspect them, but everything else catches my attention first: the pastel-coloured walls, the carpet floor, the floral-designed blanket, and literally everything else about my surroundings; this isn't my room; where am I?

It must be a dream, so I decide to see where things are headed and step out of bed, only to stumble and fall forward. I felt so unbalanced, so light-headed almost. I try standing up again, but whilst looking down I finally inspect my hands, and simultaneously my feet and rest of my lower body. Tiny hands, tiny feet and a skinny physique; my body looks like a...

Before I finish the thought, I stand up and look down upon... b-boobs?... like a girl!?

This can't be real. This has to be a dream- scratch that, I'm not weird enough to dream something like this - what the heck!? I look around again, now realising the room looks like it could reasonably belong to a girl, and then I hesitantly cop a feel, slowly.

The sound that escaped my mouth negated my pleasure promptly. I feel my face, confirming it does indeed feel different, and then I slap my cheek. A high voice gasps in pain. Wait, this isn't a dream?

"H-Hello?" a girl tentatively asks. Why do I sound like that!? What the fuck is going on!?

"Hello?" I ask the girl, but she speaks when I speak, "Is anyone there?"

I wait for a response and don't get one. This can only mean one thing: that she is me? What!?

"What's going on? Why do I sound like this!?" the girl asks more and more manically, "I'm Zachary Marlowe! I'm a boy!"

I decide this confusion has lasted too long, and my head spins around in search of a reflective object. Fortunately, a small mirror stands on the desk across the room.

A blue-eyed girl with dark brown hair stares back at me in the mirror.