We were finishing a semester long project in your apartment when your sister returns from a run. A flicker, a crash of pressure—and we black out. I wake in her body while she’s in mine. (Continue below)
“You’re late.”
Your project partner barely looks up as she drops her bag onto the kitchen table. “Yeah, sorry,” she mutters. “Campus parking is war.”
Maya had been assigned to you for the semester finale. Quiet, precise, a little intimidating. At first you’d expected disaster—but a few meetings in, it was just… efficient. Functional. Almost easy.
The two of you sit across from each other in her off-campus apartment, trading slides and edits in short bursts.
Hours pass like that—awkward, but productive.
Then the door opens.
“Hey, Maya?”
A woman’s voice carries in from the hall.
Maya groans instantly. “Great. She’s back.”
Her sister walks in from a run—breathing steady, skin flushed, athletic shorts and a cropped top clinging to her frame, earbuds still looped around her neck. She scans you briefly, then smiles.
“You’re the partner?”
“Please leave,” Maya says flatly.
The sister ignores her, hopping onto the counter with a water bottle, watching the room like she owns it.
Then the lights flicker.
The laptop screen stutters into static.
The air drops.
A crushing pressure snaps through your skull—
—and everything inverts.
When you blink again, something is wrong in a way your brain can’t immediately name. Your balance is off. Your breathing doesn’t match what you expect. There’s weight where there shouldn’t be any.
Slowly, you look down.
Athletic clothes. Yellow shirt. Long legs, hardly seen past enormous breasts. Someone else’s body.
Across the kitchen, your own face stares back at you—wide-eyed, panicked, and just as confused.
“No,” she says, using your voice. “No. Absolutely not.”
Maya shuts her laptop with slow finality.
“…I’m going to fail this class, aren’t I?”