It had been the longest day of Julian’s life—one he hoped, desperately, could just *end*. But as he sat uncomfortably in the back of a police car, hair spilling like golden silk over his shoulders and brushing the unfamiliar bare skin of his back, he knew there was no waking up from this nightmare. This was real with managing to get some tight jeans on and trainers he borrowed from someone, with well still shacky and well not believing he is stuck in this older woman's body.
The news had hit the airwaves by the afternoon, confirming what Julian had been claiming all day: some strange, inexplicable event—now labeled “The FOSE” (Full Over-Soul Exchange)—had caused a global *mind swap* in a select few people. Julian was one of those unfortunate few, and somehow, against all odds, his 12-year-old mind had ended up in the body of the 19-year-old model he had only seen before on a screen.
“Here we are,” the officer said, pulling up to his house.
Julian blinked at the sight. It felt so… *small*. He’d spent his entire life looking up at this house, at his parents who always towered over him with their scolding voices or comforting hugs. But now, as he stepped out of the car, tall and unsteady in his new long legs, the world itself felt different—compact, shrunken.
The front door opened, and Julian froze. His mom and dad rushed out, their faces pale and shocked.
“Oh… my god,” his mother whispered, staring at him. Her voice trembled, but not out of anger—just sheer disbelief.
“Mom,” Julian said, his voice high-pitched and soft like velvet. It didn’t sound right at all coming out of his mouth, or rather, *her* mouth.
His father gawked at him. “Julian? Is that really you?”
“Yes! It’s me!” Julian nearly yelled, his face flushing red as the words spilled out in *her* voice again. “I know I look like… like *this*, but I’m still me!”
His mother stepped closer, her wide eyes trailing from his unfamiliar face down to his… shape. Julian followed her gaze. It was impossible to ignore: his thin waist, his *long* legs, and the unmistakable weight on his chest that still made him flinch every time he moved.
He wrapped his arms tightly around himself in reflex. **Stop staring. Please, stop staring.**
“Oh, sweetheart… so the girl in your body was not lying about the body you now got” his mom breathed, though there was a layer of shock she couldn’t hide. “We’ll figure this out.”
Julian’s dad still looked like he was trying to process everything. His gaze briefly flicked from Julian to his wife, and Julian realized—horrified—that he now *towered* over his mother. He hadn’t noticed it before, but standing here, he felt impossibly tall. *He used to have to crane his neck to look at them.*
Now they only reached up to his shoulders.
“Why are you so… tall?” his father finally asked, as if that was the most pressing concern, with it being his way of trying to make this not as aquod as it is.
Julian winced. “I don’t know! It’s her body! I didn’t ask for this!” He gestured sharply at himself, suddenly aware that every move he made caused *parts* of him to shift in ways he wasn’t used to. His face burned.
His mom’s eyes widened again, and she tried to compose herself. “Let’s… let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted.”
Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe it. Julian stumbled through the doorway—his long legs still uncoordinated—and collapsed onto the living room couch. Except, it wasn’t *his* collapse. It was hers. His movements were weirdly graceful now, like his limbs had a mind of their own.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, fingers tangling in soft waves that fell past his shoulders. He let out a groan that sounded far too… pretty. “This is so weird. Everything is *wrong*.”
His parents sat across from him, staring awkwardly, clearly unsure what to say. Julian didn’t blame them. He felt the same way.
---
Hours later, after struggling to adjust to just sitting, walking, and even *existing* in his new body, Julian finally dragged himself upstairs to his room. It felt smaller than ever. The bed that had once been his safe haven now felt oddly tiny as he lowered himself onto it.
The sheer *height* of him now was jarring, but worse was the rest of it. Julian looked down again, groaning as he realized he couldn’t avoid the reality of *her* body. His breasts—*her* breasts—moved with every breath. He hunched his shoulders, desperate to make himself smaller, as if that could fix the overwhelming weight of everything.
And his stomach turned every time his brain reminded him what *wasn’t there anymore*. He pressed his knees together instinctively, but that only made it worse. “Oh god,” he whispered, shivering. “This is a nightmare it gone and i got... a hole there instead.”
Before he could spiral further, the door was banged open somewhere in the house.
“Julian!” his dad called. “Uh… there’s someone here you should probably talk to.”
Frowning, Julian dragged himself downstairs and opened the sitting room door. And there—standing on his porch—was *him*. Or rather, his 12-year-old body, wearing an oversized hoodie, and his baggy jeans and glaring up at him with an expression of pure rage.
Julian’s stomach dropped.
“YOU,” the girl snapped, her voice high-pitched and boyish—his voice. “What the hell did you do to me!?”
Julian’s eyes went wide. “I—”
“I’m stuck!” she screamed, her fists clenching. “I’m stuck like this! I’m in *your* gross little boy body! Look at me!” She pulled at the hoodie, her face scrunched in disgust. “I have shaggy horrible boys hair, I’m *tiny*, I’m… *a guy*! Do you know how horrible this is?!” with her now him lefting her... his? hand from the crutch area relzing he.. she? was well resting it near it.
Julian took a step back, staring at her—him. It was *his body*, alright. But seeing it from the outside, seeing small body just going out to his now her belly, and his own face twisted into a scowl… it was too much.
“I didn’t do this!” Julian said, his voice cracking. “It’s not my fault!”
“I don’t care whose fault it is!” she shot back. “I’m stuck with *your* life now i have been told. so I'm stuck with Your parents, your room, your stupid smelly boy's body. And you—” she jabbed a finger at him—“you’re stuck in mine. You have no idea how lucky you are!”
“Lucky!?” Julian practically shouted. “You think this is *lucky*? I can’t walk right, I can’t sit right, I—” His face flushed as he trailed off, unwilling to vocalize the full extent of his discomfort.
She sneered. “Oh, *poor you*. You’re a gorgeous 19-year-old girl now, and you’re complaining? At least you’re not *me*!”
Julian stared at her—his own small, scrawny frame—and for the first time, realized just how strange the situation really was. The two of them stood there, glaring at each other: a furious 19-year-old model in the body of a gangly preteen boy, and a panicked 12-year-old boy now towering over her in a body that didn’t fit him at all.
“This is a nightmare,” Julian muttered, barely able to process it.
She scowled. “You’re telling me.”
The weight of it all settled heavily in Julian’s chest—literally and figuratively—as his parents watched the scene unfold, helpless and speechless.
And somehow, Julian knew this was only the beginning.