Julian woke up to someone aggressively shaking his shoulder. “Come on, get up!” a voice snapped.
His bleary eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, he forgot about everything. The new body, the hair, the chest—none of it registered. It was just another morning.
Then he saw *himself*.
Sam, standing beside the bed, looked miserable in Julian’s old body. The oversized T-shirt and boxers hung loosely on him, like Sam couldn’t even be bothered to dress properly with not wanting to think about the boy clothes he has now. His—*Julian’s*—face glowered down with exhaustion and irritation. “Hurry up. I... you have a modeling job today, and Mom—your... are mom, I guess—said I have to teach you how to get ready for it. That means hair, makeup, and how to dress properly.”
Julian groaned and tried to pull the blankets over his head, but Sam snatched them away. “Don’t start. You have no idea how much worse I have it. I’ve got school today, *your* friends, and *your* ugly clothes.” He threw Julian a scathing look before muttering, “Not to mention being stuck in this twiggy, smelly boy body.” with Sam glancing at Julian breasts for a second and going a little red what Julian did not relize.
“I didn’t *ask* for this!” Julian snapped back, sitting up abruptly. He immediately regretted it as his long blonde hair fell around his shoulders, and the shift of his weight reminded him of the curves he was still getting used to.
Sam huffed getting back to his angry self. “Yeah, yeah. Neither did I. But you don’t see me lying around whining about it. Now get up.”
---
Julian stood awkwardly in the middle of—*his* bedroom now, apparently—while Sam rifled through the massive wardrobe Julian. The sheer number of clothes was staggering: dresses, skirts, heels, lingerie—things Julian couldn’t even imagine wearing.
“Okay,” Sam muttered, pulling out a bright pink, frilly sundress. “This’ll do. Come here.”
Julian recoiled. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes,” Sam said firmly, shoving it toward him. “Put it on. Now.”
“Why does it have to be *that*?” Julian whined, holding up the dress like it was toxic.
“Because,” Sam said irritably, “your job now is to look good. That’s the *entire point* of being a model. You have to show off the body—*my* body—so people want to hire you. That means short dresses, tight outfits, and looking… well, *hot*. Deal with it.”
Julian hesitated, his cheeks turning red. “This is so humiliating…”
“Do you think I’m having fun?” Sam shot back, throwing his arms up. “I’m in *your* crappy body, wearing your gross boxers. And don’t even get me started on how weird it is seeing you—me—walking around in *my* underwear. God, it’s messing me up.”
Julian blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
Sam grimaced, running a hand through the shaggy, unkempt hair on Julian’s old body. “I mean…” He hesitated, looking disgusted with himself. “Seeing you like that is making me have… *feelings* in your boxers. For girls. Which I shouldn’t have because I *am* a girl. Or I was.”
Julian’s face went crimson. “That’s—don’t tell me that, what the fuck!”
“Just put the dress on,” Sam growled, clearly done with the conversation, putting a hand to coving the obvious tent in his boxers.
---
Once Julian had reluctantly squeezed himself into the dress, he stood stiffly in front of the mirror. The sundress was far shorter than anything he’d ever worn, flaring out around his thighs and showing off his legs—legs that now looked smooth, toned, and endless. The neckline did nothing to hide the new... breasts on his body, and he immediately crossed his arms over his chest, his face burning.
“Don’t do that,” Sam snapped. “You’re ruining the look. Stand up straight" with Sam thinking ""I guess at lest having... feeling for my old body i can see what people see in it now."""
Julian scowled. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Well, you look *great*,” Sam said sarcastically. “And that’s what matters. Modeling is all about looking good, and trust me, you’re nailing it, with having... the body to tell. Now sit on the bed so I can teach you makeup.”
Julian grumbled under his breath but obeyed, flopping onto the edge of the bed. Sam grabbed a makeup bag and climbed up onto the mattress, standing on it so he could look down at Julian. The sight of his old body towering over him was strange and unsettling.
“First, foundation,” Sam said, unscrewing a bottle. “Pay attention. You’re going to have to fix this crap multiple times today.”
Sam launched into a surprisingly thorough lesson on applying makeup, blending and dabbing with surprising precision. Julian tried to follow along, but the feeling of foundation being brushed over his face was weirdly intimate and invasive. Sam, however, seemed to get into the rhythm of teaching.
“There. That’s how you do your base,” Sam said, stepping back with satisfaction. “Now for mascara. You have to be careful not to poke your eye out—trust me.”
As Sam continued, Julian noticed just how *small* his old body looked now. Sam had to reach up to apply eyeshadow and blush, muttering complaints about how ridiculous it was to be so short. “I used to be *tall*,” Sam grumbled. “Now I look like some sad little kid.”
“Maybe because you are,” Julian muttered, trying to enjoy a small thing in this not so great situation.
Sam shot him a glare. “Don’t start with me. you get to stand showing off my perfect body and i got to go to your stupid school today."
---
After what felt like hours, Sam finally finished. Julian stared at himself in the mirror, horrified at how good he looked. The makeup was subtle but flawless, enhancing the features of his—*Vanessa’s*—face in ways that made him look stunning. Combined with the dress and the perfectly brushed hair, the reflection staring back at him was unrecognizable.
“Perfect,” Sam said grumpily. “You’ll probably have guys falling over themselves to talk to you. Congratulations.”
Julian felt sick. “I don’t want that.”
“Too bad. That’s your life now,” Sam said, hopping off the bed. “Oh, and by the way—I signed you up for a gym session this afternoon with a trainer. You’re not ruining *my* body by getting fat. Boys notice things like that.”
Julian’s jaw dropped. “The *gym*?”
“Yes. Welcome to having a hot body. You have to maintain it.” Sam smirked, then turned toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get ready in this shitty body and for your shitty school. Mom’s taking me shopping after, thank God. Your clothes are *hideous*.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Julian demanded.
Sam scoffed. “Everything. They’re baggy, boring, and they don’t fit. If I’m stuck as a skinny little body and a boy, I’m at least going to look good. And I’m getting this shaggy mop cut, too. So don’t get too attached.”
Julian groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Sam added, turning back with a smirk. “I talked to Mom about your new diet. You’re a vegetarian now—got to keep that figure, after all. I’ll join you. I liked being one, when I was in that body anyway.”
Before Julian could respond, Sam slammed the door shut behind him with well ruching to his now boys room not knowing how to deal with this boner he now has with him no where ready to well get read of it the... boys way just hopping annoying it will make it go, leaving Julian alone. He sat there in the frilly dress, staring at the perfect stranger in the mirror—his face, his body—and felt the weight of everything crash down on him, not believing he was now this gods of a woman and hated it.