"Alright, one trait. What do you think?" Jeff said.
Mike rubbed his jaw, the stubble rasping under his fingers, then smirked. "How about body hair? I’ve got more than I know what to do with these days—chest, legs, the works. You’re still a patchy teenager. Let’s see how you handle the full lumberjack look, huh?"
Jeff laughed, a little nervous but game. "Fine, but you’re gonna look weird as hell all smooth. Let’s do it." He typed Body Hair into the text field, the words blinking in bold. The Execute? Y/N prompt flared up, and he shot Mike a quick glance. "Ready?"
"Hit it," Mike said, crossing his arms over his chest like he was bracing for impact.
Jeff clicked Yes. The familiar hum filled the air—Processing Reality Shift: 3… 2… 1… Complete. A prickling sensation crawled over Jeff’s skin, starting at his chest and spreading fast. He yanked up his T-shirt, eyes widening as dark brown hair sprouted across his once-bare torso, thick and coarse, curling down his stomach in a trail that disappeared into his jeans. His arms followed, forearms fuzzing up like he’d hit puberty on fast-forward. Even his legs, peeking out from his shorts, were suddenly blanketed in a dense mat of hair.
"Jesus," Jeff said, running a hand over his chest. It felt weird—scratchy, heavy, like he’d borrowed someone else’s skin. He looked up at Mike, who was staring down at himself with a mix of shock and amusement.
Mike had peeled off his button-down, revealing a chest that was… smooth. Completely bare, not a single hair left on his pecs or ex-jock muscle gut. He twisted to check his arms—nothing. His legs, usually covered in a dusting of manly hair, gleamed like polished marble. He barked a laugh, rubbing a hand over his now-slick skin. "Holy hell, I look like one of those waxed gym bros. This is freaky, kiddo."
Jeff snorted, still tugging at the unfamiliar hair on his stomach. "Yeah, well, I look like I should be chopping wood in flannel. It’s… a lot." He glanced at Mike, who was flexing in the mirror across the room, clearly enjoying the novelty of his hairless state. "What’s it feel like for you?"
"Light," Mike said, turning back with a grin. "Kinda nice, actually. Breeze hits different. You holding up with the rug?"
"It’s itchy as hell," Jeff admitted, scratching at his chest. "But it’s kinda badass. Like I could pass for older."
Mike dropped back onto the couch, still shirtless, and nodded at the laptop. "Alright, your turn to pick. What’s next, hairy?"
Jeff scratched at his newly hairy chest, still adjusting to the thick pelt that made him feel like he’d stepped out of a lumberjack fantasy. Mike lounged beside him, shirtless and smooth, his green eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and curiosity as he ran a hand over his hairless pecs. The Chronivac’s glow beckoned from the laptop, the Trait Exchange interface still open, daring them to push it further.
"Alright, my pick," Jeff said, leaning forward. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, the single text box waiting. "Let’s keep it in the hair department. How about… facial hair? You’ve got that scruffy architect vibe going, and I’ve got, like, three sad whiskers."
Mike chuckled, rubbing the stubble along his jaw—coarse, brown, with those first flecks of grey that gave him a rugged edge. "You want this mess? Fine by me. I could use a break from shaving every morning. Let’s see how you rock the beard."
Jeff grinned, typing Facial Hair into the text box. Subject A: Jeff Parker and Subject B: Mike Parker were already locked in from the last swap. The Execute? Y/N prompt pulsed on-screen, and he didn’t hesitate this time. "Here we go," he said, clicking Yes.
The air buzzed again—Processing Reality Shift: 3… 2… 1… Complete. Jeff’s face tingled, a prickling heat spreading across his cheeks and chin. He reached up, eyes widening as stubble pushed through his skin, thickening fast into a full, scruffy beard. It crawled along his jawline, up his cheeks, even sprouting a patchy mustache above his lip—Mike’s exact facial hair, down to the grey strands peppered in. He bolted to the bathroom mirror, gaping at his reflection. The beard aged him instantly, turning his boyish face into something rougher, more masculine. He ran his fingers through it, marveling at the texture—coarse, thick, a little wild.
"Holy shit," he called back, voice muffled by the unfamiliar weight on his face. "I look like I could be your brother now!"
Mike laughed from the living room, deep and booming, then joined him at the mirror. His own face was starkly different—smooth as a baby’s, not a trace of stubble or shadow. He tilted his head, inspecting his bare jaw with a smirk. "Well, damn. Haven’t seen this mug clean-shaven since college. Makes me look ten years younger—might have to keep it this way for the office."
Jeff turned, still stroking his new beard. "Yeah, but check this out—I’m giving off serious badass vibes. Bet I could walk into a bar and not get carded."
Mike clapped him on the back, grinning. "You wear it better than I thought, kid. Feels weird not having to scratch my chin every five minutes, though. What’s it like for you?"
"Heavy," Jeff said, tugging at the beard. "Kinda itchy, but… hot. Like, in a good way." His blue eyes flicked to Mike, catching the playful glint in his dad’s expression. The Chronivac had turned their lazy Saturday into something wild, and the thrill of it was sinking in.