Just as Eli’s fingers began to trail back down his new, impossibly smooth stomach, his breathing shallow and hips shifting—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
He froze.
The knock came again, louder. "Yo! Open up, dork. You promised a rematch today and I brought snacks. Also, your front door is unlocked, which is weird. You trying to get murdered?"
Eli’s stomach dropped. "Shit."
He scrambled off the bed—legs tangling, butt jiggling way too much—and stared at the piles of his own dirty laundry scattered around. The jeans. The shirts. The hoodies. None of them were going to fit this body now. He ran a hand through Sabrina’s long hair with a frustrated growl. He grabbed the first thing he could: his old black hoodie. It was oversized on him before, but now? It hung off Sabrina’s frame like a sack. Still, it would have to do.
He yanked it on, but the sleeves were long enough to hide half of his fingers, and the bottom of the hoodie just barely grazed the waistband of the tight pink shorts Sabrina’s body had been wearing. He tugged at it self-consciously. It wasn’t ideal, but at least it covered his chest.
“Uh—coming! Just gimme a sec!” he called, voice pitching up into Sabrina’s sugary register.
Next came his old jeans. They were far too big, but in the panic of the moment, they seemed like the best option. The waistband practically slid off his hips, but there was nothing for it.
“Wow,” Max said through the door. “That was the most ‘not-Eli’ voice I’ve ever heard. Did you finally invite a girl over? Is it someone from marching band? Wait—is it Sabrina? Oh my god, is this—am I interrupting?”
Eli found a belt, tightened it as much as he could—his hands clumsy as he adjusted, feeling more awkward with every movement, the tightness around his thighs only emphasizing how wrong this whole thing felt. Still, he’d made it work before. He could make it work again. The whole thing felt ridiculous. His body was... curvy in all the wrong ways, and no amount of male clothing was going to change that. The jeans didn’t help, the hoodie was far too loose, and he still felt out of place in every sense of the word.
Eli finally flung open the door. “Max. Shut up and come in. We need to talk.”
Max stepped inside, wearing a faded Godzilla tee, cargo shorts, and that smug, perma-teasing grin that always meant trouble.
He looked Eli—Sabrina—up and down. Slowly.
Then raised both eyebrows.
“Okay,” he said. “So either Eli's been fucking Sabrina Cross without me knowing about it, or...” He squinted. “Wait.”
“Max. It’s me.”
A beat. Max just blinked.
“...It’s you?” he echoed, staring.
“Yes. Eli. I built the prototype. Ran a test. Something went wrong and now I’m this.”
Max leaned forward. “Prove it.”
“I know your Wi-Fi password is ‘gundamhumps69.’ I know you peed your pants on Splash Mountain and told everyone it was ride water. I know you once had a crush on Mr. Delgado until you realized he was married and straight.”
Max's jaw dropped. “Holy shit. It’s you. You turned into Sabrina freaking Cross.”
He walked around Eli like he was an art installation.
“This is—insane. You’re tiny. I can see your cheekbones. And your legs are, like... dude. Those aren’t legs, those are weapons.”
“Stop ogling me.”
“You turned into your own crush.” Max laughed, delighted. “This is like if I made a machine and woke up as Margot Robbie with a B+ in physics.”
Eli folded his arms over his chest. “Are you done?”
“Not even close.” Max grinned. “But I am listening. So... what’s the plan, Sabrina–sorry, Eli? Gonna change back now, or see if you can sneak into girls’ volleyball tryouts?”
“I was trying to collect some scientific data,” Eli muttered. “But now that you’re here... I could use your help. I think I can reverse it if I reset the resonance coil and ping my biometric pattern. But I need a second pair of hands.”
Max dropped onto the bed, legs crossed, pulling out a half-eaten, wadded-up bag of sour gummies from his back pocket. “Hell yeah. I’ll help. But we’re filming this. For posterity.”
“Seriously?”
“Dude, you’re hot. I want evidence. Also, you owe me for bailing on game night.”
Eli groaned. “Fine. But no uploading anything.”
Max wiggled his brows. “Swear on your boobs.”
Eli sighed. “I hate you.”
Minutes later, Max sat cross-legged on Eli’s bedroom floor, camera phone in hand, filming with the unshakable glee of a boy who just found his best friend’s search history acted out in real life.
“Okay, say it again,” Max said. “For the record.”
Eli, still in Sabrina’s perfectly sculpted form—messy hair, hoodie off one shoulder, hips spilling over the edge of his desk chair—gave him the flattest look a teenage girl’s face could manage.
“I, Eli Kramer,” he said, “accidentally turned myself into Sabrina Cross with a machine I built for the science fair. I’m currently trying not to get distracted by my own reflection.”
Max chuckled. “You do keep adjusting your boobs.”
“They won’t stay in place! I don’t know how bras work, Max!”
“Well don’t look at me, I don’t wear ‘em either.”
Max turned the camera to show the Resonance Generator. Still humming faintly, coils pulsing with leftover energy, the whole thing smelled faintly of ozone and singed hair.
“So what’s the plan, Doc?” Max asked, grabbing a notepad.
“Okay,” Eli said, taking a breath, “I think if we clear the waveform memory and then input a direct override to the entanglement field, I can get it to reping my original body’s biometric signal. That should—”
“Translate: ‘boop some buttons and hope I zap back into having a penis,’ right?”
Eli exhaled sharply through his nose. “Essentially.”
They worked fast. Max helped rewire a few jumper cables, held a flashlight between his teeth, and wrote down timestamps every time something sparked.
“You know,” Max said, “if you do switch back, we should record the actual transition. Could be useful. Also hilarious.”
Eli nodded. “Fine. But again, no uploading anything unless I approve it.”
“Scout’s honor. This is just for science.”
They angled the camera. Eli stood in front of the device, pulling the hoodie back on over Sabrina’s chest with some difficulty.
“Alright,” he muttered. “Moment of truth.”
The machine whined. Lights flickered. Energy coiled around the core like lightning in molasses.
And then—flash.
The world snapped white.
When the light cleared, Max was already grinning. “Welcome back, bro.”
Eli looked down. Skinny chest. No boobs. A familiar friend in his shorts once again. “YES!”
They fist-bumped hard enough to hurt.
Max replayed the video frame-by-frame. “You literally pop back into place. It’s like watching puberty in reverse.”
Eli smirked. “I’m keeping the footage. But we are building version two of the machine.”
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
