ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Part 1
Giving up on any trick-or-treaters materializing on her front porch, Jennifer Matthews settled into the comfiest end of the couch under a fall-themed afghan when the first intrepid soul rang the doorbell. Taking a break from mindlessly scrolling through Netflix selections, the yawning thirtysomething made her way to the door in zombie-like fashion. Apropos for such a sleepy Halloween. More than two decades had passed since the holiday elicited anything more than a glimmer of interest. At least the entire godawful bag of seasonal “Cauldron Skittles” won’t totally go to waste, she figured, lazily unlocking the deadbolt.
On the other side stood a solitary, three-and-a-half foot nurse, complete with stethoscope draped around her neck and the requisite Florence Nightingale hat no modern healthcare professional has worn in ages. Jennifer grew a motherly glow, instinctually sympathizing with the miniature medical worker’s evident lack of friends.
“Well, hi there,” she said.
“Trick or trade!” the nurse replied, offering Jennifer a bite-size Snickers from her pumpkin pale.
Jennifer’s smile morphed into a smirk. “Don’t you mean treat?”
The rose-cheeked youngster’s expression remained stoney, betraying no hint of embarrassment at having bungled the Halloween greeting.
“Oh, you want to give me a piece of candy?” the chilly mom asked, eager to speed up the transaction. “Not a fan of Snickers, huh?” She graciously accepted the unorthodox offering and fished a cold package of rainbow candy from the popcorn bowl situated atop the nearby piano.
Watching the virgin bag of Skittles tumble into her pale with an expanding grin, the little redheaded Clara Barton became strangely attentive. Now smiling wide enough to reveal prominent holes where two front teeth should reside, the child’s expression took on an intense, almost sinister air.
“Thank you,” she responded with unnerving seriousness.
No sooner than the sound escaped the young doll’s lips, a tremor shook Jennifer’s core and traveled straight down her limbs, leading her to step back in confusion. The warning signs of heart attacks and strokes ticking off in her brain as she grappled with the wholly unfamiliar sensation. Grabbing her chest, she labored to calm herself while the useless mini-nurse continued her clinical evaluation in silence. Breathing deeply, like she’d learned in Lamaze class 15 years ago, Jennifer teetered across the living room and leaned awkwardly against the lip of the sofa. Preoccupied with the alien murmurations fluttering through her extremities, she nevertheless found time to begin freaking out over the trick-or-treater’s unannounced entry into her house.
“Sweetie,” she huffed. “I’m not sure what’s happening. Could you go grab your mommy?”
The child stayed planted, her head cocked slightly sideways like a curious cocker spaniel. Was there a hint of... glee in her eyes?
“Honey, go get your mom—” she repeated with renewed urgency. The uninvited guest finally spun on her heels and motioned toward the exit, only to halt at the door and nonchalantly pull it shut. A fleeting moment of normalcy spiraling back into weirdness.
Now acting perfectly at home inside a stranger’s house, the petite intruder casually waltzed over to the piano bench and took a seat, her legs rocking back and forth expectantly. More than a little confused, with mouth hanging helplessly open, Jen looked the dictionary illustration of nonplussed. Whatever Halloween shenanigans were transpiring she wanted them to end — now.
“What are you doing in my house?” she managed between audible gasps.
“You’ll see,” the doe-eyed girl eagerly assured. “Soon.”
The omen sounded a thousand times more ominous delivered in the delicate five-year-old falsetto. Jennifer’s stomach turned, taking a roller-coaster dive. A light spiderweb tickle crept up her legs, past her groin, coiling around her midriff before hugging her breasts. Expecting pain, the 38-year-old suburban housewife instead found a gentle, albeit distressing, tingle spreading across her entire form. But she would soon describe the strongest, most distinct sensation with one word: sinking.
What the hell was happening? Had Jennifer lifted her eyes, she would have witnessed her first clue.
“It’s working! Thank god,” the beaming grade-schooler proclaimed, jettisoning an annoying babyish lisp she’d come to despise. In mere moments, the tips of the girl’s swinging toes would begin brushing against the carpet. Once frightened by the accompanying physical symptoms, she barely flinched this time around. The light shone at the end of the silly little kid tunnel and the finer freedoms of adulthood beckoned. She could almost taste them.
Meanwhile, Jennifer underwent the same magic in reverse. With any prelude of middle age already erased, the pilates enthusiast reentered her prime. Skin tightened, wrinkles smoothed away like a real-time airbrushing, and her boobs started winning their battle with gravity. Basking in the short-lived phase proved impossible, however, as Jennifer’s vision blurred and she struggled to maintain her balance. Regaining her current physique had been a goal for the last decade, but the forces at work had other plans.
“Don’t worry,” the giddy 11-year-old nurse advised, a congregation of ruddy strawberry freckles disappearing from the bridge of her nose. “It happens pretty quick.”
As the visitor calmly greeted the indisputable signposts of puberty — a pair of humble ridges insinuating themselves on her chest, string-bean arms lengthening, face surrendering its sinless softness — Jennifer tumbled down through her 20s in a state of panic. An awesome decade, no doubt, but decidedly less fun when experienced in the wrong direction at high speed. Bewildered by the foreign sensations, she had no time to appreciate other fantastic changes taking place. As if the process weren’t unbelievable enough already, wardrobe alterations were also underway. Through watery eyes, Jennifer could just make out the young trespasser’s changing clothes. No longer decked out in nurse garb, the little girl — no, that description no longer fit — teenager appeared to acquire more grown-up attire. A black cami open-knit top and a stylish, knee-high dress.
“How... how are you doing this?” Jennifer stammered, unable to tell whether any similar sorcery was affecting her fuzzy mohair sweater and mom jeans.
But the interloper was too immersed in a glorious growth spurt to reply, reveling in the twin satisfactions of reentering maturity while watching Jennifer cede hers. As the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked forward, the trading partners began to approach the same age, in the vicinity of that coveted number — 21. The college juniors shared a passing moment of sisterhood before the enchantment sent both shooting off in opposite directions. As the “little” girl hailed her newfound adulthood by running her hands down her much taller figure, taking special pleasure in the full return of her modest but welcome breasts, Jennifer plummeted back into her perky, if ungraceful, teens. Shapely childbearing hips began to collapse. A cluster of zits swarmed her forehead and cheeks, fading just as quickly as they appeared. While the trick-or-treater’s transformation decelerated into more subtle changes, Jennifer’s nightmare was just entering its most dramatic chapter.
In seconds, the spell picked off puberty’s beautiful presents with precious little warning. First robbing from her chest, second her voice, followed by height. The blast swiftly reduced the saucer-eyed brunette pre-teen into a surprisingly squat child engulfed in a Forever 21 sweater. (No irony there.) The abrupt demotion prompted an unexpected eruption of laughter from Jennifer’s guest.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” the 35-year-old apologized, tossing her long, fiery-red hair over her shoulder. “You always seemed like the poster child for Planet Fitness. I just figured you’d always been a skinny little thing.”
Jennifer glanced down tentatively to view the damage at the close of trading, getting a much closer view of the floor than she was used to. And was that.. the frill of a dress? Mohair top gone, she discovered an uncomfortable, skin-tight periwinkle material hugging her round, irresistibly squeezable belly. Arms bare except for a makeshift corsage, Jennifer reached up to her head and felt the unmistakable outline of a cheap Walgreens tiara. Memories of the childhood costume came streaming back in high definition. Every detail was reproduced with amazing clarity — the emerald “jewels” spray-painted on, metallic silver finish, the way it started itching by the end of the night.
Wearing the world’s most sheepish expression, she finally tilted her head to view the human skyscraper. What she saw was a woman, about average height with a few extra pounds, but a pretty face, basking in the glow of a long-awaited release.
Jennifer hesitated to run a trial on her new vocal cords. “I’m... I’m a little girl? How did...?” the words tumbled out in a stuttering soprano. Tears welled.
“God, it feels good to finally be out of kiddie land,” the woman exclaimed, eyes closed, sucking in a lungful of sweet, adult air. “You have no idea.”
“But... ” Jennifer half-heartedly protested, suddenly suffering a childlike reluctance to challenge an authority figure. “I can’t be a little girl.”
“Oh, you most certainly can,” her captor coolly explained. “I’m afraid that’s how this works. My name is Christine, by the way. I used to live just down the street from you, but let’s just say I’ve been on... hiatus.”
The mysteries only mounted inside Jennifer’s soft little cranium. I don’t remember any Christine on Larkwood. Or did she?
“Sorry again about the laughing. That wasn’t very polite of me,” Christine continued, bending down to look her victim in the eye. Schadenfreude melting into empathy, she placed a finger under Jennifer’s quivering chin and lifted her head. “You’re absolutely adorable like this. A real peach. If I were your mom, this would be all over Instagram right now.”
Never had a compliment fallen on deafer ears.
“You want to know what happened,” Christine stated the obvious. “And now is the part where I tell you. Those are the rules.”
The curvy perpetrator left her crouch and returned to her throne at the piano, lingering at a crowded collage of framed photos clustered above. Maddeningly perfect pictures from Jennifer’s monthlong church trip to Scotland last year, a series of her daughter, Chloe, ranging from diapers to her latest dour school photo, precious few of her husband, and a smattering of requisite cat pictures. Back still turned, Christine began with a cryptic opener.
“No one really knows who started it or how long it’s been going,” she prefaced. “Could be centuries. Who knows. But it’s real, as you can see.”
Picking up an undoubtedly embarrassing picture of Chloe as a naked infant with her powdered rear on display, Christine paused. Why do parents torture their kids with these? she thought, laying the offending snapshot facedown behind the music stand.
“What are you talking about?” Jennifer squeaked, now a full decade younger than her girl in the photos.
“It doesn’t have a name. You could call it a curse maybe, or a spell. Maybe a fucked up chain letter from some wizard,” she resumed. “But it only happens on Halloween night. During that window, when kids are out trick-or-treating, you can pass it on. You can’t reverse it or get rid of it. You can only pass it on to someone else.”
Jennifer’s Martha Stewart-modeled living room became a grade school classroom as Christine slowly paced and Jennifer listened intently from her inferior vantage, trying hard to take mental notes in her young, easily distracted mind.
“You pick a house, pick a person, ring the doorbell like I did, and say, ‘trick or trade.’ If they accept it, the curse is transferred and you swap ages with them. It doesn’t matter if they’re in their 20s or their 80s. You take on their age and they... well, you’ve probably figured that out by now,” she said, adding a perfunctory snort.
Jen could guess the answer to her next question, but she ventured anyway. “How old... am I?”
“Hate to break it to you, princess,” Christine responded with a faux-sigh. “But you’re five years old now.”
Jesus, Jennifer thought. Just hearing the words spoken out loud raised goosebumps on her arms and sent a wintry shiver up her back. Nothing about her current predicament conformed to the world she knew, and Christine’s matter-of-fact delivery wasn’t helping matters.
“At midnight, reality sort of catches up and roles shift around. Except for the person who chose you, the rest of the world has no clue. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re the right age,” the lesson proceeded apace. “Which is why you don’t remember me right now. For the last year, I’ve just been some little girl down the street you probably ignored. But after tonight, you will.”
The mind reeled. Moments ago she was alone in the house, sifting through overwrought Nicholas Sparks movies, wondering if she and Dan should refinance the mortgage. Now, just minutes later, her chief concerns were how to reach the kitchen counter, kindergarten 2.0, and getting anyone to take her pipsqueak protests seriously. Listening to the users manual for this curse and considering the radical shift this Christine witch had visited on her, she didn’t notice her puny fists balling.
“But why!” she finally interrupted. “Why did you do this to me?”
Christine regarded the apple-faced child for a moment, as she formulated an answer. “Honestly, Jennifer — Jenny — I’ve always found you sort of stuck up. Like you were too good for this neighborhood. Remember the block party two summers ago that you vetoed because some people might step on your precious, manicured lawn? You always acted spoiled, like you were Eva Gabor and this was your Green Acres. I guess I thought some downtime might serve you well,” Christine opined.
“So that’s it?” Jenny growled, petulant. “Some stupid neighborhood rivalry rubbed you the wrong way and you thought, ‘Oh I know, I’ll turn Jennifer into a little kid’?”
“See, there you go again,” Christine said tisk-tiskly. “I think this might be good for you.”
“There I go again?” The tiny royalty balked. “You could have picked anyone in this town. Criminals even! But instead you—“
“Shhh, sweetie. I know it’s rough,” the relaxed instructor commiserated. “How do you think I felt? I just spent the last 365 days learning my ABCs, swinging on playgrounds, and going to bed at 8. I sang along with Barney the Dinosaur for christsakes. You know how much I craved just one cigarette? Or one night of normal, boring sex?”
Jenny fumed, hearing the surreal preview of her 2017. “This isn’t fair!”
“I know, right? Life’s like that, I guess. It blessed you with a sweet husband, this cool house, and your brand new Lexus out there. While I wound up a single mom living paycheck to paycheck. To tell you the truth, a lot of us were kind of jealous of your gorgeous figure too. Did you really need to wear those hoity-toity v-neck things to every PTA meeting? Enough with the cleavage,” Christine paused in her airing of grievances for a snicker. “Of course, I guess you haven’t got much to show off now.”
Jen found herself asking if this night could manage to get any worse.
“On the plus side, no PMS. No shaving your legs. And no bills,” the lecture continued. “And kids today have way cooler toys than we did.”
“Wait a second,” Jennifer stopped her mid-thought, only now catching up. “You said earlier you can only trade ages on Halloween.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, there’s still an hour of trick-or-treating left,” Jen realized, feeling much smarter than her five meager years. “I could go out right now.”
Christine sighed, obligated by the rules of the curse to answer all questions. “Yes, you could.”
“You weren’t going to tell me!” Jenny stamped her feet, hoping for far more effect than her stubby appendages could muster.
“I was getting around to that…”
Part 2
Another rush of adrenaline seized little Jenny and her almond eyes lit up. There was still hope. Still time. Maybe she wouldn’t be sentenced to 12 months of Apple Jacks and bedwetting after all. Heart racing, she marched past Christine into the kitchen.
“On a mission now, are we?”
“I’m getting a candy bag,” she announced, bargain-basement dress swishing loudly as she paraded by. Luckily, a stash of leftover plastic grocery bags resided under the sink and wouldn’t require any climbing onto the new granite counters.
Christine peeked in. “If you do this, you have to explain how it works to the next person. Those are the rules.”
“Got it,” Jenny barked, digging through the cabinet on her hands and knees.
Eventually locating one without holes, the princess righted herself, dusted her costume off, and filed past the amused redhead with regal confidence. This Halloween madness had proven shockingly easy to solve. Just a few simple steps and she could return to her rightful size and begin plotting ways to screw with Christine’s next crappy block party. The thought produced a barely perceptible grin as she reached up and dumped a wad of Skittles into the bag.
“Hey,” the erstwhile trick-or-treater called. “You really were a little cutie at this age. I bet your daughter would love to babysit. Maybe you should think about it for a bit…”
“No, thank you,” Jenny shot back, opening the door and disappearing into the brisk night air.
Before reaching the end of the walkway, the weight of the decision suddenly dawned on her. To rescue herself, she would have to choose another person — someone nearby, an acquaintance, or a neighbor even — to send back to the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese. Depriving someone of their well-earned adulthood was no small thing, as she now intimately understood, but staying so young seemed out of the question. Rebooting one’s age around college, or even mid-teens, might prove tempting for many, but five was another ballgame altogether. A tee ball game. No comparison. Still, it didn’t seem like Christine had put much thought into her decision before rewinding Jennifer’s clock. Maybe it was best not to belabor it and just toss the hot potato.
Further compounding the dilemma was the question of where Jennifer would end up, as well. To return to her previous life, she would need someone 38 years old or thereabouts. Who fit that profile and deserved some “downtime,” as Christine so casually put it?
She swiped through names in her mind. There was Michelle Watts, an algebra teacher at Wentworth Middle School and president of the neighborhood association. Ruling the design standards meetings with an iron fist would be difficult at three feet tall. Bet she’ll still have that beautiful olive complexion though, Jennifer grudgingly admitted. Give her a week and she’d probably be organizing her fellow daycare playmates and voting on the gluten-free snacks.
Greg Lassiter, Dan’s boss at the real estate firm, could be an intriguing, if somewhat prosaic, choice. Despite two years of solid service for the company, Dan found himself reliably undermined at every turn — as if his stellar sales record automatically meant he was angling for Greg’s job. While Jennifer had only met him twice, once at an interminable office Christmas party and again at a company picnic, he seemed to embody all the typical “horrible boss” stereotypes. Dan would no doubt appreciate the wannabe Gordon Gekko trading in his suspenders for ninja turtle pajamas.
But he’s got to be older, she remembered, placing him somewhere in his early-to-mid-40s. Eh, pass.
Then the most obvious choice hit her right between the eyes. Why the name hadn’t already moved to the front of the queue she had no idea. Maybe she had blocked the incident out of her mind after therapy. Rachel Zekia lived just three short blocks away.
Crossing paths at a beginner’s yoga class downtown several years ago, they had immediately hit it off — bonding over their love of Renaissance art and waxing ambitious about opening a gallery of their own. And though she wouldn’t admit it, Jennifer found the Jamaican native exotic and exciting. The friendship seemed a win-win. That was, until she noticed Rachel becoming a little too handsy with Dan. A text inquiring if he wanted to “grab a light dinner sometime” drove in the final nail and Jennifer cut ties, unfriended her, and forbade all contact between the two. Ever since, their occasional run-ins at Whole Foods were marked by frosty, wordless glances as their carts passed one another like ships in the night.
Watching the aspiring home-wrecker lose that elegant, athletic build of hers would be downright magical. Jennifer almost licked her lips at the prospect. Rachel exuded such a refined aura, dressing in chic, low-cut ensembles and never losing her legendary even temper. Not to mention the photogenic features that gave her a striking, model-like profile. Jennifer had difficulty even picturing her as a child.
But tonight offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She set off for 428 Waterson Street.
Little Rachel. The idea grew more enticing the more she mused on it, even leading to a random devilish giggle as she walked alone past a confused Iron Man, Dracula, and a half-assed Chewbacca. The intensity of the drive made her wonder whether something about the curse made revenge more sexy. In regular life, she held the usual grudges and indulged in a fair amount of road rage. Who doesn’t? But right now, the image of a five-year-old Rachel Zekia plopped down cross-legged on the floor watching silly cartoons awakened some deeply satisfying primal urge. In one painless swoop, Jennifer could render her seductive rival a total non-threat.
A faint conversation coming from across the street soon intruded on those fantasies, however.
Jennifer turned to see her daughter and a classmate talking, and it quickly became clear the tone of the conversation wasn’t friendly.
“Hey, lookie here. It’s Elvira, mistress of the dark,” the fittingly costumed Harley Quinn joked. “On your way to the graveyard to write poetry?”
“No,” Chloe responded quietly, as usual.
“This must be your night, huh,” another member of Harley’s crew volunteered. Sensing another round of locker room teasing was imminent, the freshman moved to detour around the partygoers but was blocked. She soon found her bag knocked to the ground.
“Yeah, you don’t even have to dress up,” Harley added, twirling her multi-colored pig-tails. Egged on by the crew, she kept it up. “Where’s your Edward Cullen?”
Uncomfortable but accustomed to the treatment, Chloe stayed mum. The truth was she wasn’t wearing a costume — the shredded black top, faux leather leggings, and combat boots were standard issue Chloe. Halloween may have warranted a tad heavier black lipstick and eyeliner than usual, but those were relatively minor variations on the theme.
“I’m not trick-or-treating. I’m just on my way home from the mall,” the timid girl finally answered.
“Sale at Hot Topic?” Harley jabbed, playfully swinging her bat. The comeback appeared to be a crowd pleaser — then again, impressing a group of horny teenage boys all secretly hoping for a shot didn’t exactly require supervillain genius. “Hope they weren’t out of the studded A-cups.”
Witnessing the scene, Jennifer’s reflexive mama bear instincts kicked in, despite her diminished status.
While Chloe had always struggled to make friends, middle school taunting had the effect of closing her off further. The more introverted her personality, the darker her clothing, makeup, and taste in music became — until she eventually won the official title of “gothiest” girl at Markland High. Not surprisingly, Jennifer also found herself shut out of Chloe’s life. Their once close relationship now equaled a “bye” in the morning, a “hey” in the afternoon, and a permanently closed bedroom door. The only barometer for how well Chloe was feeling was the volume of the Marilyn Manson record playing in her room. The transformation had truly wounded Jennifer, even if she understood the reasons.
One them was Harley Quinn here. Jennifer knew her better as Alyssa Westenberg, a spurned cheerleader who nevertheless commanded a dedicated following of Markland jocks. Taking one look at the selfie-ready 16-year-old specimen, it wasn’t hard to see why.
Unable to stop her blood from boiling, Jennifer strode across the street and confronted the bully with the only words her young, but still maternal, brain could rally.
“Hey, get away from her!” Jenny yapped in a comical attempt at seizing control.
“Oh my god!” Alyssa broke into a gut laugh. “A little princess is here to save you.”
“You shouldn’t talk to people like that,” Jenny did her best chaperone impression, while an equally puzzled Chloe observed her miniature heroine.
“Not exactly a knight in shining armor,” Alyssa said. “I had no idea you had a cute baby sis. Looks like she got all the non-freak genes.”
“I don’t,” Chloe corrected as Harley approached the brave little good samaritan.
The intimidation factor inched up dramatically as the teen drew closer, peering down her nose at the spunky runt. Jenny stood just chest high, her head level with Alyssa’s taut midriff. Chewing on her gum and grinning, the clown princess of crime stooped lower to meet her interlocutor tete-a-tete. The kindergartner maintained her disapproving scowl.
“Geez, lighten up, kid,” she ribbed. Jennifer could smell the watermelon Bubbalicious on her breath as she won an orchestra seat to Alyssa’s admittedly impressive rack. “They’re just jokes.”
Harley poked the gallant princess in the tummy. No Pillsbury doughboy smile.
“Well, better let these two get back to their little lovefest,” she said. “See you at school, Vampira. Don’t let the monsters get ya.”
The duo watched as Harley Quinn and her laughing gang of sycophants moved along. Twirling back around to her unlikely friend, Chloe started to speak but hesitated, as if momentarily aware of the impossible connection between them.
“Um… thank you?” she proffered, not knowing what was appropriate in such a situation. How often does a kindergartner come to your rescue?
“You’re welcome,” she sang, growing a warm grin that seemed oddly familiar.
“Wish I had some candy for you… or something,” Chloe mumbled, shuffling through the assortment of phone attachments, lighters, and tampons in her purse. “Sorry…”
“That’s all right,” Jenny assured, still relishing the rare, if utterly bizarre, mother-daughter moment. “I don’t need anything.”
“Well, have fun trick-or-treating,” Chloe submitted, awkwardly sidling down the sidewalk.
“I will.”
As Chloe’s silhouette disappeared down Rosemont and out of view, Jennifer encountered the pressing question yet again. Finally able to come to her daughter’s defense in a meaningful way (Chloe despised parental involvement in her school affairs, no matter how unpleasant), she couldn’t deny how gratifying the episode had felt — and how she loathed Chloe’s antagonists with an intensity only moms truly understand. Swallowing deeply, Jennifer could sense the desire welling up inside, a crazy idea, but an undeniable craving…
She could trim 11 years off Alyssa Westenberg.
And yet the choice would come with far-reaching consequences. With only one “turn,” so to speak, Jennifer would only mature into her mid-teens, and the decision would be final. Assembling a list of pros and cons on such short notice proved daunting, especially when combined with the flighty impulses of a once hyperactive child. Decision-making was never her strong suit, and her cognitive abilities weren’t exactly at their height. On the one hand, she would be forfeiting her current life for a brand new arrangement, becoming just a year older than her own daughter. Am I really ready to take on a second round of high school? she debated. Keeping up with Snapbook, Facechat, or whatever the hell kids used these days?
Relatively popular at that age, Jennifer relished the idea of taking Chloe under her wing and giving her the guidance she wouldn’t accept from an adult, much less a parent. But what about Dan? A dedicated father and reliable breadwinner, yes. And she loved him dearly, even if the flame of their relationship had been flickering for some time. Lately, their marriage seemed rote and by-the-numbers, with moments of romance and true intimacy increasingly few and far between.
One other option entered her consciousness, but she dismissed the motherly fancy almost as soon as it arose. She could keep the curse all in the family and trade places with Chloe.
Caught in a brief sentimental interlude, Jennifer visualized the scene — taking down the glut of Nine Inch Nails posters, unscrewing the black lights, and redecorating her room with the My Little Pony theme she loved at that age. With 10 years between them, she could take on the role of the protective big sister, showing little Chloe the ways of the world. For a few fleeting seconds Jennifer permitted her mind to drift, imagining her only child back in a size six floral lace dress with that angelic face and milk chocolate eyes. But it wouldn’t work, she reminded herself. Chloe would remember everything, including her old life as a teenager. And she would know it was me who made her little again.
Perhaps unconsciously, Jennifer’s internal GPS was already wandering its own direction, toward an address she had visited only once before. A last ditch, and ultimately futile, effort to get Alyssa’s scatterbrained mom to reel in her daughter last spring. But now Jennifer found herself on a different mission: cutting the Markland High sex symbol down to size. Literally.
Once again energized by the thought, the single-minded princess gradually picked up her pace as the official trick-or-treat hours began to wane. The audience of wandering ghosts and goblins starting to thin out, Jennifer realized it was decision time. No going back. Even so, she wavered for moment as she approached the dimly-lit bungalow on Preston Street. Yearning for an end to her five-year-old adventures, the reality of her impending choice gave her pause.
16, 1-6, she repeated to herself, still in disbelief. Driver’s permit here I come.
Swallowing hard and steeling herself, Jennifer reached for the bell. After a long, disconcerting wait, Alyssa emerged — still fully costumed and seemingly in character — with a look of skeptical fatigue.
“You again? Jesus,” the teen muttered. “You just don’t quit. Back to teach me some more important life lessons?”
You have no idea. Jennifer smiled to herself. “Trick or trade!” she trumpeted, extracting a fun-size Skittles from her grimy grocery bag and holding it out for inspection.
“What is this, a peace offering?”
Jen’s puppy-dog pokerface didn’t betray her.
Unimpressed, Alyssa nevertheless grabbed the candy, stuck it between her teeth, and rummaged around the coatrack at the entrance searching for the basket of Smarties her mother usually left out. One solitary package remained. “There,” she said bluntly, tossing it into Jennifer’s bag. “Happy now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Eyes sparkling with something more than gratitude, Jenny stayed patiently put, just as little Christine had earlier than evening awaiting the inevitable. And sure enough, the sequence of events began to play out — as evidenced by the amusing contortions on Alyssa’s pale face. Rendered temporarily inert, the teenager’s eyes grew round.
“Um, I feel really weird just now,” she announced. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Oh no, you’re fine,” the periwinkle princess coaxed. “Trust me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“We just made a little trade is all,” Jennifer disclosed, blithely walking past the agitated teen and setting up shop in the nearby den.
“Hey, get out of the house. What are you doing?” Alyssa ordered, the inaugural effects taking hold and worming up her body.
A tender tickle soon blanketed her feet, legs, and thighs, steadily advancing past her privates, causing her to reflexively grab her crotch. Like Goldilocks, Jennifer carefully selected a recliner from which to view the coming attractions. The now customary sensations caused few worries this time, as she knew exactly what was coming. In fact, the metamorphosis should run its course faster this time, she reasoned, with fewer years to transfer.
“Just try to relax,” Jennifer advised. “Life is about to get a lot simpler.”
Part 3
Spotting wrinkles in the once wetsuit tight Daddy’s Lil Monster shirt, Jennifer knew the process was running right on schedule. With only 16 years to play around with, the outward effects would become visible much sooner. After all, Alyssa had only enjoyed her coveted cleavage for the better part of two years, and the curse would make quick work of that.
“What the fuck is this?” the dazed teen demanded, already detecting subtle but unsettling changes in her anatomy.
Watching with elation, Jennifer again wondered about the curse’s side effects and whether they were contributing to the lust for revenge and her unbridled joy at witnessing Alyssa’s descent. Either way, she couldn’t take her eyes off Harley Quinn as the spell zapped her essence. At 14 going on 13, the pastel hot pants no longer grabbed her thinning waist and the black, torn fishnets appeared much too grown up for the wearer. By 12, the late bloomer’s assets had dwindled considerably. Alyssa flinched as a cursory analysis of her tits brought some unwelcome news.
“What — what’s happening?” she repeated, hyperventilating. “Make it stop!”
“Yeah, you won’t be breaking too many boys hearts without those, will you?” Jennifer surmised.
“Are you doing this?!”
“Oh no, it’s on autopilot now, dearie. Just have to let it take care of business,” the nine-year-old princess clarified. “Don’t worry though. I promise you’ll still be as cute as ever when it’s done.”
The next round of changes was particularly delicious. Just as Jennifer marked the precursors of puberty, Alyssa made the transition into single digits. What remained of her once sculpted, high cheekbones melted under a ray of innocent sunshine. In moments, the hardcore partier famous for outdrinking the football squad and losing her virginity under the stands was replaced by a junior sweetheart ready for fifth grade picture day. The trademark Harley Quinn pig-tails now told a different story, going from sexy cosplayer to… age appropriate.
Thankfully for Alyssa, the wardrobe started disappearing just as the hot pants slid down her twiggy thighs, taking the now uninhabited Daddy’s Lil Monster shirt with it. She raced to grab them but found she was clutching nothing.
“I’m… fucking shrinking?” the fourth-grader guessed out loud, hearing her retuned vocal cords for the first time.
“Not quite,” Jennifer explained, puberty in full swing. “You’re getting younger. Almost there by the looks of you.”
Petrified, the sandy blonde eight-year-old dropped her head to see an aqua blue gown with a gold wrap coiling around her waist. It seemed to be contracting along with her body. As the curse silently rescinded Jennifer’s regalia and restored her adult clothing, she took mental bets on Alyssa’s old costume choice from 2005. After a few wrong guesses, she nailed it.
“Princess Jasmine from Aladdin,” she buzzed in, her teenage self taking shape. “Hey, can’t have too many princesses. My daughter loved that movie. I think you know her, Chloe Matthews?”
“Wh — what?”
Alyssa was beyond mortified. A cool draft whooshed up the lower half of her chinzy, store-bought costume, causing her seven-year-old frame to contract. As it did, an ancient, long-forgotten conversation replayed in her head. The costume — she remembered trying it on at Target and complaining about how different it looked from the animated film.
“But Mommy, in the movie…”
“Ally, I told you, the big costumes are not for kids,” her mother had said, putting the more risqué version back on the hanger. “I can’t have you running around with a skimpy little top like it’s the beach. It’s going to be close to freezing.”
“That’s what she wears though!” she had moaned.
The memory suddenly fresh in her mind, Alyssa once again experienced the almost painful hunger that nagged at her throughout childhood — the persistent thirst to be one of the “big girls.” Even before she understood the first thing about sex, or noticed her own puberty switch being flipped, she envied the attitude and privileges that came with adulthood. She was jealous of the whole package: breasts, influence on boys, independence, the feminine mystique, the deeper voice, everything. October 9th, 2010 would become a cherished memory, the day she noticed the first faint traces of womanhood surfacing while taking her morning shower. Always worried puberty might pass her by or prove underwhelming, she monitored herself daily, posing like an actress in front of her mother’s floor mirror. In the span of a couple years, it was clear she had hit the genetic jackpot.
But tonight, fate had washed it all away in a near instant, leaving her to relive the torture anew. As the curse let up, gently settling the victim back into the throes of kindergarten, she stared down in unbelief at her pancake-flat chest.
“See, nothing to fear,” the newly re-teened intruder encouraged. “You’re just as pretty as you were a few minutes ago. Adorable even! People are going to love your new look.”
“You bitch! How did you do this?” The accusations were disarmingly cute mixed up an octave. “Change me back!”
“Language, young lady,” Jen disciplined, stroking a strand of Alyssa’s now fairer hair.
“Don’t touch me! I’m calling my mom,” the feisty five-year-old snapped.
“Don’t you want to know what just happened? Or are you happy with your new arrangement? I’d be happy to leave and you can get on with your Barbie coloring books and bubble baths.”
“I am not kidding. Turn me back or..." More pouting.
“Patience, kiddo.” Still acclimating to her high school sophomore build and coordination, Jennifer nevertheless circumnavigated the red-faced child like a hawk. She bit back laughter thinking of Alyssa donning a pint-sized Harley Quinn costume and swinging a miniature whiffle ball bat, trying to intimidate her daughter with infantile G-rated grade school taunts.
“Here’s a thought experiment,” Jennifer said. “What if we sent you back to school like this? And all your friends could get a good look at you. Just take a spin around cheerleader practice and introduce the new Alyssa Westenberg. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Seething but sensing a moral coming, Princess Jasmine refused to dignify the suggestion with a response.
“That’s how you made my Chloe feel every day. Lording over her with your crew of bullies.”
“What does Chloe Matthews have to do with this? I’m not a little girl,” Alyssa cut through Jennifer’s Sunday School lesson. “I am not a little girl.”
“Want me to get you a mirror? Seems to me your age pretty well matches your maturity level now. Care to try for pre-school?” Jennifer threatened, knowing her powers were already spent but enjoying toying with her victim.
From Alyssa’s perspective, life was spinning out of control at a dizzying speed. Had a few harmless jokes about a classmate really resulted in this supernatural comeuppance? Was she truly stuck as a stupid little kid? It didn’t take long for her to begin regretting the teasing as Jennifer’s speechifying wore on.
“I… I’m sorry,” the defeated former bombshell finally sputtered. “Just don’t leave me like this. I’ll do anything.”
The apology rang somewhat sincere, if self-serving.
“Do… I have to grow up again?” she asked meekly, realizing she held none of the cards this time.
Jennifer sighed. The rules. If Christine honored them, so should she. Maybe the episode alone was enough to scare Alyssa into better behavior. Over the course of the next few minutes, the high school track runner filled her daughter’s nemesis in on all the details, at least those that were passed on to her earlier that evening. As she spelled out the guidelines, glints of optimism reappeared on Alyssa’s face. Obviously, she was putting two and two together faster than Jennifer had.
“So all I have to do is pick somebody!” The wicked gleam in her eyes returned.
“Well,” Jennifer reluctantly acknowledged. “Yes, but you have to think about this…”
Enemies list already compiling in the impetuous youngster’s brain, Alyssa wasted no time poring over the moral and ethical considerations involved and skipped straight to vendetta. So many deserving contenders, so little time.
“Think about what?” the Aladdin love interest spouted. “There’s no way I’m staying a dumb kindergartner. It doesn’t sound like you wanted to either.”
In fact, Alyssa’s naturally vengeful tendencies needed little prodding to spring into action. In no time, she whittled a long list of worthy nominees down to the perfect choice, an inspired choice, and he lived near the park just two blocks east.
Cameron Stefaniak.
Last February, he had committed a cardinal sin in Alyssaland by dumping her very publicly on Facebook. None of her boyfriends lasted longer than about four months, all casualties of the relentless churn of her shifting attentions, but Cameron had held promise. Unlike her easy dudebro catches, he was something of a prize himself, often occupying countless pages in yearbooks designed by nerdy, fawning would-be girlfriends. And he knew it. A high school renaissance man, Cameron excelled in a pamphlet’s worth of extracurricular activities from soccer to jazz band. The pairing — dubbed Camlyssa by Markland’s resident cultural commentators — seemed fairy tale, but like Brad and Angelina the facade eventually crumbled. In humiliating fashion.
And now she could repay the favor with a cold blast from the past.
Oh god, how she would savor this. Observing him slip back into middle school, then elementary school. Seeing that foxy face and slick, grungy hair giving way to a handsome little boy. She had some idea of what to expect from the occasional old tagged family photo that would pop up in her Facebook feed: a cute munchkin with a button nose, weak chin, sprinkling of cinnamon freckles. Of course, the best part would take place downstairs.
“Heh,” she giggled, imagining that first distressing peek inside the ol’ underwear.
Jennifer had barely finished her warnings when Alyssa bumped into her leg on the way out. Unfazed, Princess Jasmine yanked Jen’s slapdash candy bag off the recliner and made a beeline for the door.
“Just remember—“
“Yeah, I know. Blah, blah,” the impossible little squirt griped, slamming open the screen door.
Shoulders slumping, Jennifer resigned to the fact that, entertaining as it was, her intervention probably accomplished nothing except to further piss Alyssa off once she regained that insane bod of hers. But she couldn’t bring herself to withhold the information. Only seven minutes of officially sanctioned trick-or-treating time remained and candy supplies were probably running low in many households, but she had no doubt Alyssa would successfully swap with some unfortunate soul. What a strange running joke this was.
Sure enough, Alyssa blazed down the emptying streets on a war footing. The porch light dark at the Stefaniak’s tree-shaded residence, she approached anyway and rang the doorbell once — then again after an achingly long eternity of a few seconds. The unmistakable strains of his incessant guitar noodling were audible from the basement. I hope Cameron’s mom is still out with his little sister, she thought. I want him all to myself.
She was in luck. After another delay and some bumbling sounds in the background, Cameron answered the door with his prize Stratocaster slung around his back like Bruce Springsteen.
“Um, I think you’re a little late,” the hoodied 17-year-old briefed the cute straggler.
Alyssa flashed a persuasive smile full of chiclet baby teeth. “Trick or trade!”
“Let’s see if we have anything left.” He foraged around briefly, eventually discovering the paltry, unpopular leftovers. Two dented Caramellos and some sickening circus peanut-like abomination. He held the surplus out for Alyssa’s appraisal. “See anything here you like?”
Alyssa made her selection. Likewise, the peculiarly familiar visitor — where had he seen this girl before? — proudly held out her donation.
“Oh, um, that’s ok. I really don’t need any candy.”
“Trick or trade!” she chirped, undaunted.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Cameron assured. “You should keep it for yourself. It doesn’t look like you got much of a haul tonight.”
Frustrated with her ex-boyfriend’s endless politeness, she stuck her arm out as far as it would go.
“Trick or trade!”
Just before Cameron could give in and comply with her insistent orders, a small blur darted around his legs, snatching the fun-sized Skittles from Alyssa’s hand.
“Mine!” a triumphant high-pitched voice cackled.
“Sorry about that,” Cameron said, trying unsuccessfully to corral the wee thief. “That’s my cousin. Come here, Johnny…”
“Nooo!” Alyssa yelped, stomach slamming into the ground. “No, no, no, no….”
It had all happened so fast. With no warning. Before she could even react. Alyssa froze. As Cameron chased the bandit around the foyer, the panicked trick-or-treater got one good look at her mischievous trading partner before the first tingling wave washed over her.
Epilogue
Jenny and Chloe took turns shoveling handfuls of Orville Redenbacher’s into their faces as the Stranger Things credits rolled. Binge watching had enabled them to devour the entire first season in one weekend, a new record for team couch potato.
“Wait, there’s no more?” Chloe whined.
“I told you, that’s it until next year,” the lounging high schooler said, launching a piece of popcorn at her little sister’s mouth. Close, but no cigar.
“Well, crap. This stuff really is addictive.”
“The show or the popcorn?”
“Both,” Chloe said, grabbing the Roku remote.
The relationship had blossomed in ways Jennifer never expected when she made her fateful Halloween decision about four months ago. At the time, she’d harbored vague hopes that the new arrangement might somehow soften Chloe’s hard shell and make life less fraught for the introverted freshman. It was a gamble, no doubt, considering her daughter’s shyness and padlocked personal life. The trade could easily have backfired, leaving Jennifer a lonely 16-year-old butting heads with her moody, death-obsessed sibling. But encouraging signs appeared within just hours. Just as Christine foretold, at midnight that night the world reordered itself like a computer updating its operating system. When the clock struck 12:00, Jennifer no longer held the position of mom and Dan became a doting father to two loving, if decidedly unique, daughters. Walking around town the following day, with reality showing no evidence of the slightest hiccup, was surreal to say the least.
After that day, it was as if she and Chloe had always been a team — growing up in tandem, through birthdays, holidays, graduations, sharing intimate sisterly moments and diary secrets. While Chloe had maintained her fascination with the macabre, often dragging Jenny to gory horror movies on Friday nights, her nihilistic bent had vanished. It seemed their bond satisfied some unmet need Jennifer could never fill in her old role.
The doorbell sounded. Probably their first customer of the month.
“I’ll get it,” Chloe said, rousing from the Netflix trance.
Marking time at the door was an overly friendly 40-year-old woman bundled up inside layers of scarves and winter gear, rubbing her gloves together for warmth.
“Hi, this is the Matthews house?” she inquired with a poorly lipsticked smile.
“Yep.”
“Good, good,” she said, turning to pull a stroller onto the porch. “I thought I recognized you from your picture on Craigslist. I read your listing and checked your references. You and your sister came highly recommended. So wonderful to have available babysitters so close.”
“Oh, thanks,” Chloe hated chitchat with strangers but it came with the job. “Can I help you with that?”
“Yes, please do. They make these things so bulky these days.”
Chloe slid her way past the talkative patron and angled the stroller up and into the entrance with astronaut-like skill.
“Thank you,” the effusive woman repeated, heaving a bulging overnight bag onto the living room floor. “These are just a few things you’ll need for tonight. She’s very picky about which disposable diapers she wants. Last week, I bought a new brand and she threw a tantrum, so you have to keep an eye on her.”
“No problem,” Chloe guaranteed. “It won’t be our first crying fit, trust me.”
The leather-jacketed teen knelt down to greet their newest charge.
“Hi there. Scared about leaving mom? That’s ok. We won’t bite,” she cooed at the frowning tot. “How old is she again?”
“Oy,” the woman sighed. “Just turned two a few months ago. You know what they say about the twos.”
“They’re not so terrible,” Jenny responded, finally making an appearance — only to suddenly pause halfway down the hall when she recognized Mrs. Westenberg. Chloe had organized this particular babysitting gig, neglecting to tell her the name. Oh my god, is that… She set her steaming hot chocolate down on the bannister and slowly moved toward the stroller, taking up residence next to Chloe.
“Alyssa?”
“We call her Ally most of the time,” her mom noted.
This would explain the cocky teenager’s abrupt disappearance from Markland High following their little encounter in October. The nagging question had eaten at Jennifer in the ensuing months, until she gave up and assumed Alyssa had swapped with a college student somewhere and landed at some second-rate party school for five years of keggers and undecided majors. But no, this was definitely her. The features were there, arched eyebrows and those sloping cheeks, if hidden under stores of babyfat. Does she remember? Jenny wondered, almost certain she detected a twinkle of dread in the toddler’s summer blue eyes. She could hardly stifle a laugh, admiring karma’s handiwork.
“And how did you manage to wind up like this, huh?” she whispered, as Chloe ironed out the details and jotted down emergency numbers. The stoic stroller occupant crossed her arms and stared holes into the floor, in the closest thing to a “screw you” she’d ever seen from a two-year-old. Jenny responded by tickling her tummy.
“Dinner is around six. I typically give her a bath before bedtime around 8:30, then she sleeps for maybe six hours,” her mother explained. “You might have to change her early in the morning if she fusses.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her,” Jenny said, grabbing the unsuspecting toddler under the arms and hoisting her up to her chest. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”
To be continued next year?
Giving up on any trick-or-treaters materializing on her front porch, Jennifer Matthews settled into the comfiest end of the couch under a fall-themed afghan when the first intrepid soul rang the doorbell. Taking a break from mindlessly scrolling through Netflix selections, the yawning thirtysomething made her way to the door in zombie-like fashion. Apropos for such a sleepy Halloween. More than two decades had passed since the holiday elicited anything more than a glimmer of interest. At least the entire godawful bag of seasonal “Cauldron Skittles” won’t totally go to waste, she figured, lazily unlocking the deadbolt.
On the other side stood a solitary, three-and-a-half foot nurse, complete with stethoscope draped around her neck and the requisite Florence Nightingale hat no modern healthcare professional has worn in ages. Jennifer grew a motherly glow, instinctually sympathizing with the miniature medical worker’s evident lack of friends.
“Well, hi there,” she said.
“Trick or trade!” the nurse replied, offering Jennifer a bite-size Snickers from her pumpkin pale.
Jennifer’s smile morphed into a smirk. “Don’t you mean treat?”
The rose-cheeked youngster’s expression remained stoney, betraying no hint of embarrassment at having bungled the Halloween greeting.
“Oh, you want to give me a piece of candy?” the chilly mom asked, eager to speed up the transaction. “Not a fan of Snickers, huh?” She graciously accepted the unorthodox offering and fished a cold package of rainbow candy from the popcorn bowl situated atop the nearby piano.
Watching the virgin bag of Skittles tumble into her pale with an expanding grin, the little redheaded Clara Barton became strangely attentive. Now smiling wide enough to reveal prominent holes where two front teeth should reside, the child’s expression took on an intense, almost sinister air.
“Thank you,” she responded with unnerving seriousness.
No sooner than the sound escaped the young doll’s lips, a tremor shook Jennifer’s core and traveled straight down her limbs, leading her to step back in confusion. The warning signs of heart attacks and strokes ticking off in her brain as she grappled with the wholly unfamiliar sensation. Grabbing her chest, she labored to calm herself while the useless mini-nurse continued her clinical evaluation in silence. Breathing deeply, like she’d learned in Lamaze class 15 years ago, Jennifer teetered across the living room and leaned awkwardly against the lip of the sofa. Preoccupied with the alien murmurations fluttering through her extremities, she nevertheless found time to begin freaking out over the trick-or-treater’s unannounced entry into her house.
“Sweetie,” she huffed. “I’m not sure what’s happening. Could you go grab your mommy?”
The child stayed planted, her head cocked slightly sideways like a curious cocker spaniel. Was there a hint of... glee in her eyes?
“Honey, go get your mom—” she repeated with renewed urgency. The uninvited guest finally spun on her heels and motioned toward the exit, only to halt at the door and nonchalantly pull it shut. A fleeting moment of normalcy spiraling back into weirdness.
Now acting perfectly at home inside a stranger’s house, the petite intruder casually waltzed over to the piano bench and took a seat, her legs rocking back and forth expectantly. More than a little confused, with mouth hanging helplessly open, Jen looked the dictionary illustration of nonplussed. Whatever Halloween shenanigans were transpiring she wanted them to end — now.
“What are you doing in my house?” she managed between audible gasps.
“You’ll see,” the doe-eyed girl eagerly assured. “Soon.”
The omen sounded a thousand times more ominous delivered in the delicate five-year-old falsetto. Jennifer’s stomach turned, taking a roller-coaster dive. A light spiderweb tickle crept up her legs, past her groin, coiling around her midriff before hugging her breasts. Expecting pain, the 38-year-old suburban housewife instead found a gentle, albeit distressing, tingle spreading across her entire form. But she would soon describe the strongest, most distinct sensation with one word: sinking.
What the hell was happening? Had Jennifer lifted her eyes, she would have witnessed her first clue.
“It’s working! Thank god,” the beaming grade-schooler proclaimed, jettisoning an annoying babyish lisp she’d come to despise. In mere moments, the tips of the girl’s swinging toes would begin brushing against the carpet. Once frightened by the accompanying physical symptoms, she barely flinched this time around. The light shone at the end of the silly little kid tunnel and the finer freedoms of adulthood beckoned. She could almost taste them.
Meanwhile, Jennifer underwent the same magic in reverse. With any prelude of middle age already erased, the pilates enthusiast reentered her prime. Skin tightened, wrinkles smoothed away like a real-time airbrushing, and her boobs started winning their battle with gravity. Basking in the short-lived phase proved impossible, however, as Jennifer’s vision blurred and she struggled to maintain her balance. Regaining her current physique had been a goal for the last decade, but the forces at work had other plans.
“Don’t worry,” the giddy 11-year-old nurse advised, a congregation of ruddy strawberry freckles disappearing from the bridge of her nose. “It happens pretty quick.”
As the visitor calmly greeted the indisputable signposts of puberty — a pair of humble ridges insinuating themselves on her chest, string-bean arms lengthening, face surrendering its sinless softness — Jennifer tumbled down through her 20s in a state of panic. An awesome decade, no doubt, but decidedly less fun when experienced in the wrong direction at high speed. Bewildered by the foreign sensations, she had no time to appreciate other fantastic changes taking place. As if the process weren’t unbelievable enough already, wardrobe alterations were also underway. Through watery eyes, Jennifer could just make out the young trespasser’s changing clothes. No longer decked out in nurse garb, the little girl — no, that description no longer fit — teenager appeared to acquire more grown-up attire. A black cami open-knit top and a stylish, knee-high dress.
“How... how are you doing this?” Jennifer stammered, unable to tell whether any similar sorcery was affecting her fuzzy mohair sweater and mom jeans.
But the interloper was too immersed in a glorious growth spurt to reply, reveling in the twin satisfactions of reentering maturity while watching Jennifer cede hers. As the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked forward, the trading partners began to approach the same age, in the vicinity of that coveted number — 21. The college juniors shared a passing moment of sisterhood before the enchantment sent both shooting off in opposite directions. As the “little” girl hailed her newfound adulthood by running her hands down her much taller figure, taking special pleasure in the full return of her modest but welcome breasts, Jennifer plummeted back into her perky, if ungraceful, teens. Shapely childbearing hips began to collapse. A cluster of zits swarmed her forehead and cheeks, fading just as quickly as they appeared. While the trick-or-treater’s transformation decelerated into more subtle changes, Jennifer’s nightmare was just entering its most dramatic chapter.
In seconds, the spell picked off puberty’s beautiful presents with precious little warning. First robbing from her chest, second her voice, followed by height. The blast swiftly reduced the saucer-eyed brunette pre-teen into a surprisingly squat child engulfed in a Forever 21 sweater. (No irony there.) The abrupt demotion prompted an unexpected eruption of laughter from Jennifer’s guest.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” the 35-year-old apologized, tossing her long, fiery-red hair over her shoulder. “You always seemed like the poster child for Planet Fitness. I just figured you’d always been a skinny little thing.”
Jennifer glanced down tentatively to view the damage at the close of trading, getting a much closer view of the floor than she was used to. And was that.. the frill of a dress? Mohair top gone, she discovered an uncomfortable, skin-tight periwinkle material hugging her round, irresistibly squeezable belly. Arms bare except for a makeshift corsage, Jennifer reached up to her head and felt the unmistakable outline of a cheap Walgreens tiara. Memories of the childhood costume came streaming back in high definition. Every detail was reproduced with amazing clarity — the emerald “jewels” spray-painted on, metallic silver finish, the way it started itching by the end of the night.
Wearing the world’s most sheepish expression, she finally tilted her head to view the human skyscraper. What she saw was a woman, about average height with a few extra pounds, but a pretty face, basking in the glow of a long-awaited release.
Jennifer hesitated to run a trial on her new vocal cords. “I’m... I’m a little girl? How did...?” the words tumbled out in a stuttering soprano. Tears welled.
“God, it feels good to finally be out of kiddie land,” the woman exclaimed, eyes closed, sucking in a lungful of sweet, adult air. “You have no idea.”
“But... ” Jennifer half-heartedly protested, suddenly suffering a childlike reluctance to challenge an authority figure. “I can’t be a little girl.”
“Oh, you most certainly can,” her captor coolly explained. “I’m afraid that’s how this works. My name is Christine, by the way. I used to live just down the street from you, but let’s just say I’ve been on... hiatus.”
The mysteries only mounted inside Jennifer’s soft little cranium. I don’t remember any Christine on Larkwood. Or did she?
“Sorry again about the laughing. That wasn’t very polite of me,” Christine continued, bending down to look her victim in the eye. Schadenfreude melting into empathy, she placed a finger under Jennifer’s quivering chin and lifted her head. “You’re absolutely adorable like this. A real peach. If I were your mom, this would be all over Instagram right now.”
Never had a compliment fallen on deafer ears.
“You want to know what happened,” Christine stated the obvious. “And now is the part where I tell you. Those are the rules.”
The curvy perpetrator left her crouch and returned to her throne at the piano, lingering at a crowded collage of framed photos clustered above. Maddeningly perfect pictures from Jennifer’s monthlong church trip to Scotland last year, a series of her daughter, Chloe, ranging from diapers to her latest dour school photo, precious few of her husband, and a smattering of requisite cat pictures. Back still turned, Christine began with a cryptic opener.
“No one really knows who started it or how long it’s been going,” she prefaced. “Could be centuries. Who knows. But it’s real, as you can see.”
Picking up an undoubtedly embarrassing picture of Chloe as a naked infant with her powdered rear on display, Christine paused. Why do parents torture their kids with these? she thought, laying the offending snapshot facedown behind the music stand.
“What are you talking about?” Jennifer squeaked, now a full decade younger than her girl in the photos.
“It doesn’t have a name. You could call it a curse maybe, or a spell. Maybe a fucked up chain letter from some wizard,” she resumed. “But it only happens on Halloween night. During that window, when kids are out trick-or-treating, you can pass it on. You can’t reverse it or get rid of it. You can only pass it on to someone else.”
Jennifer’s Martha Stewart-modeled living room became a grade school classroom as Christine slowly paced and Jennifer listened intently from her inferior vantage, trying hard to take mental notes in her young, easily distracted mind.
“You pick a house, pick a person, ring the doorbell like I did, and say, ‘trick or trade.’ If they accept it, the curse is transferred and you swap ages with them. It doesn’t matter if they’re in their 20s or their 80s. You take on their age and they... well, you’ve probably figured that out by now,” she said, adding a perfunctory snort.
Jen could guess the answer to her next question, but she ventured anyway. “How old... am I?”
“Hate to break it to you, princess,” Christine responded with a faux-sigh. “But you’re five years old now.”
Jesus, Jennifer thought. Just hearing the words spoken out loud raised goosebumps on her arms and sent a wintry shiver up her back. Nothing about her current predicament conformed to the world she knew, and Christine’s matter-of-fact delivery wasn’t helping matters.
“At midnight, reality sort of catches up and roles shift around. Except for the person who chose you, the rest of the world has no clue. As far as everyone else is concerned, you’re the right age,” the lesson proceeded apace. “Which is why you don’t remember me right now. For the last year, I’ve just been some little girl down the street you probably ignored. But after tonight, you will.”
The mind reeled. Moments ago she was alone in the house, sifting through overwrought Nicholas Sparks movies, wondering if she and Dan should refinance the mortgage. Now, just minutes later, her chief concerns were how to reach the kitchen counter, kindergarten 2.0, and getting anyone to take her pipsqueak protests seriously. Listening to the users manual for this curse and considering the radical shift this Christine witch had visited on her, she didn’t notice her puny fists balling.
“But why!” she finally interrupted. “Why did you do this to me?”
Christine regarded the apple-faced child for a moment, as she formulated an answer. “Honestly, Jennifer — Jenny — I’ve always found you sort of stuck up. Like you were too good for this neighborhood. Remember the block party two summers ago that you vetoed because some people might step on your precious, manicured lawn? You always acted spoiled, like you were Eva Gabor and this was your Green Acres. I guess I thought some downtime might serve you well,” Christine opined.
“So that’s it?” Jenny growled, petulant. “Some stupid neighborhood rivalry rubbed you the wrong way and you thought, ‘Oh I know, I’ll turn Jennifer into a little kid’?”
“See, there you go again,” Christine said tisk-tiskly. “I think this might be good for you.”
“There I go again?” The tiny royalty balked. “You could have picked anyone in this town. Criminals even! But instead you—“
“Shhh, sweetie. I know it’s rough,” the relaxed instructor commiserated. “How do you think I felt? I just spent the last 365 days learning my ABCs, swinging on playgrounds, and going to bed at 8. I sang along with Barney the Dinosaur for christsakes. You know how much I craved just one cigarette? Or one night of normal, boring sex?”
Jenny fumed, hearing the surreal preview of her 2017. “This isn’t fair!”
“I know, right? Life’s like that, I guess. It blessed you with a sweet husband, this cool house, and your brand new Lexus out there. While I wound up a single mom living paycheck to paycheck. To tell you the truth, a lot of us were kind of jealous of your gorgeous figure too. Did you really need to wear those hoity-toity v-neck things to every PTA meeting? Enough with the cleavage,” Christine paused in her airing of grievances for a snicker. “Of course, I guess you haven’t got much to show off now.”
Jen found herself asking if this night could manage to get any worse.
“On the plus side, no PMS. No shaving your legs. And no bills,” the lecture continued. “And kids today have way cooler toys than we did.”
“Wait a second,” Jennifer stopped her mid-thought, only now catching up. “You said earlier you can only trade ages on Halloween.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, there’s still an hour of trick-or-treating left,” Jen realized, feeling much smarter than her five meager years. “I could go out right now.”
Christine sighed, obligated by the rules of the curse to answer all questions. “Yes, you could.”
“You weren’t going to tell me!” Jenny stamped her feet, hoping for far more effect than her stubby appendages could muster.
“I was getting around to that…”
Part 2
Another rush of adrenaline seized little Jenny and her almond eyes lit up. There was still hope. Still time. Maybe she wouldn’t be sentenced to 12 months of Apple Jacks and bedwetting after all. Heart racing, she marched past Christine into the kitchen.
“On a mission now, are we?”
“I’m getting a candy bag,” she announced, bargain-basement dress swishing loudly as she paraded by. Luckily, a stash of leftover plastic grocery bags resided under the sink and wouldn’t require any climbing onto the new granite counters.
Christine peeked in. “If you do this, you have to explain how it works to the next person. Those are the rules.”
“Got it,” Jenny barked, digging through the cabinet on her hands and knees.
Eventually locating one without holes, the princess righted herself, dusted her costume off, and filed past the amused redhead with regal confidence. This Halloween madness had proven shockingly easy to solve. Just a few simple steps and she could return to her rightful size and begin plotting ways to screw with Christine’s next crappy block party. The thought produced a barely perceptible grin as she reached up and dumped a wad of Skittles into the bag.
“Hey,” the erstwhile trick-or-treater called. “You really were a little cutie at this age. I bet your daughter would love to babysit. Maybe you should think about it for a bit…”
“No, thank you,” Jenny shot back, opening the door and disappearing into the brisk night air.
Before reaching the end of the walkway, the weight of the decision suddenly dawned on her. To rescue herself, she would have to choose another person — someone nearby, an acquaintance, or a neighbor even — to send back to the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese. Depriving someone of their well-earned adulthood was no small thing, as she now intimately understood, but staying so young seemed out of the question. Rebooting one’s age around college, or even mid-teens, might prove tempting for many, but five was another ballgame altogether. A tee ball game. No comparison. Still, it didn’t seem like Christine had put much thought into her decision before rewinding Jennifer’s clock. Maybe it was best not to belabor it and just toss the hot potato.
Further compounding the dilemma was the question of where Jennifer would end up, as well. To return to her previous life, she would need someone 38 years old or thereabouts. Who fit that profile and deserved some “downtime,” as Christine so casually put it?
She swiped through names in her mind. There was Michelle Watts, an algebra teacher at Wentworth Middle School and president of the neighborhood association. Ruling the design standards meetings with an iron fist would be difficult at three feet tall. Bet she’ll still have that beautiful olive complexion though, Jennifer grudgingly admitted. Give her a week and she’d probably be organizing her fellow daycare playmates and voting on the gluten-free snacks.
Greg Lassiter, Dan’s boss at the real estate firm, could be an intriguing, if somewhat prosaic, choice. Despite two years of solid service for the company, Dan found himself reliably undermined at every turn — as if his stellar sales record automatically meant he was angling for Greg’s job. While Jennifer had only met him twice, once at an interminable office Christmas party and again at a company picnic, he seemed to embody all the typical “horrible boss” stereotypes. Dan would no doubt appreciate the wannabe Gordon Gekko trading in his suspenders for ninja turtle pajamas.
But he’s got to be older, she remembered, placing him somewhere in his early-to-mid-40s. Eh, pass.
Then the most obvious choice hit her right between the eyes. Why the name hadn’t already moved to the front of the queue she had no idea. Maybe she had blocked the incident out of her mind after therapy. Rachel Zekia lived just three short blocks away.
Crossing paths at a beginner’s yoga class downtown several years ago, they had immediately hit it off — bonding over their love of Renaissance art and waxing ambitious about opening a gallery of their own. And though she wouldn’t admit it, Jennifer found the Jamaican native exotic and exciting. The friendship seemed a win-win. That was, until she noticed Rachel becoming a little too handsy with Dan. A text inquiring if he wanted to “grab a light dinner sometime” drove in the final nail and Jennifer cut ties, unfriended her, and forbade all contact between the two. Ever since, their occasional run-ins at Whole Foods were marked by frosty, wordless glances as their carts passed one another like ships in the night.
Watching the aspiring home-wrecker lose that elegant, athletic build of hers would be downright magical. Jennifer almost licked her lips at the prospect. Rachel exuded such a refined aura, dressing in chic, low-cut ensembles and never losing her legendary even temper. Not to mention the photogenic features that gave her a striking, model-like profile. Jennifer had difficulty even picturing her as a child.
But tonight offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. She set off for 428 Waterson Street.
Little Rachel. The idea grew more enticing the more she mused on it, even leading to a random devilish giggle as she walked alone past a confused Iron Man, Dracula, and a half-assed Chewbacca. The intensity of the drive made her wonder whether something about the curse made revenge more sexy. In regular life, she held the usual grudges and indulged in a fair amount of road rage. Who doesn’t? But right now, the image of a five-year-old Rachel Zekia plopped down cross-legged on the floor watching silly cartoons awakened some deeply satisfying primal urge. In one painless swoop, Jennifer could render her seductive rival a total non-threat.
A faint conversation coming from across the street soon intruded on those fantasies, however.
Jennifer turned to see her daughter and a classmate talking, and it quickly became clear the tone of the conversation wasn’t friendly.
“Hey, lookie here. It’s Elvira, mistress of the dark,” the fittingly costumed Harley Quinn joked. “On your way to the graveyard to write poetry?”
“No,” Chloe responded quietly, as usual.
“This must be your night, huh,” another member of Harley’s crew volunteered. Sensing another round of locker room teasing was imminent, the freshman moved to detour around the partygoers but was blocked. She soon found her bag knocked to the ground.
“Yeah, you don’t even have to dress up,” Harley added, twirling her multi-colored pig-tails. Egged on by the crew, she kept it up. “Where’s your Edward Cullen?”
Uncomfortable but accustomed to the treatment, Chloe stayed mum. The truth was she wasn’t wearing a costume — the shredded black top, faux leather leggings, and combat boots were standard issue Chloe. Halloween may have warranted a tad heavier black lipstick and eyeliner than usual, but those were relatively minor variations on the theme.
“I’m not trick-or-treating. I’m just on my way home from the mall,” the timid girl finally answered.
“Sale at Hot Topic?” Harley jabbed, playfully swinging her bat. The comeback appeared to be a crowd pleaser — then again, impressing a group of horny teenage boys all secretly hoping for a shot didn’t exactly require supervillain genius. “Hope they weren’t out of the studded A-cups.”
Witnessing the scene, Jennifer’s reflexive mama bear instincts kicked in, despite her diminished status.
While Chloe had always struggled to make friends, middle school taunting had the effect of closing her off further. The more introverted her personality, the darker her clothing, makeup, and taste in music became — until she eventually won the official title of “gothiest” girl at Markland High. Not surprisingly, Jennifer also found herself shut out of Chloe’s life. Their once close relationship now equaled a “bye” in the morning, a “hey” in the afternoon, and a permanently closed bedroom door. The only barometer for how well Chloe was feeling was the volume of the Marilyn Manson record playing in her room. The transformation had truly wounded Jennifer, even if she understood the reasons.
One them was Harley Quinn here. Jennifer knew her better as Alyssa Westenberg, a spurned cheerleader who nevertheless commanded a dedicated following of Markland jocks. Taking one look at the selfie-ready 16-year-old specimen, it wasn’t hard to see why.
Unable to stop her blood from boiling, Jennifer strode across the street and confronted the bully with the only words her young, but still maternal, brain could rally.
“Hey, get away from her!” Jenny yapped in a comical attempt at seizing control.
“Oh my god!” Alyssa broke into a gut laugh. “A little princess is here to save you.”
“You shouldn’t talk to people like that,” Jenny did her best chaperone impression, while an equally puzzled Chloe observed her miniature heroine.
“Not exactly a knight in shining armor,” Alyssa said. “I had no idea you had a cute baby sis. Looks like she got all the non-freak genes.”
“I don’t,” Chloe corrected as Harley approached the brave little good samaritan.
The intimidation factor inched up dramatically as the teen drew closer, peering down her nose at the spunky runt. Jenny stood just chest high, her head level with Alyssa’s taut midriff. Chewing on her gum and grinning, the clown princess of crime stooped lower to meet her interlocutor tete-a-tete. The kindergartner maintained her disapproving scowl.
“Geez, lighten up, kid,” she ribbed. Jennifer could smell the watermelon Bubbalicious on her breath as she won an orchestra seat to Alyssa’s admittedly impressive rack. “They’re just jokes.”
Harley poked the gallant princess in the tummy. No Pillsbury doughboy smile.
“Well, better let these two get back to their little lovefest,” she said. “See you at school, Vampira. Don’t let the monsters get ya.”
The duo watched as Harley Quinn and her laughing gang of sycophants moved along. Twirling back around to her unlikely friend, Chloe started to speak but hesitated, as if momentarily aware of the impossible connection between them.
“Um… thank you?” she proffered, not knowing what was appropriate in such a situation. How often does a kindergartner come to your rescue?
“You’re welcome,” she sang, growing a warm grin that seemed oddly familiar.
“Wish I had some candy for you… or something,” Chloe mumbled, shuffling through the assortment of phone attachments, lighters, and tampons in her purse. “Sorry…”
“That’s all right,” Jenny assured, still relishing the rare, if utterly bizarre, mother-daughter moment. “I don’t need anything.”
“Well, have fun trick-or-treating,” Chloe submitted, awkwardly sidling down the sidewalk.
“I will.”
As Chloe’s silhouette disappeared down Rosemont and out of view, Jennifer encountered the pressing question yet again. Finally able to come to her daughter’s defense in a meaningful way (Chloe despised parental involvement in her school affairs, no matter how unpleasant), she couldn’t deny how gratifying the episode had felt — and how she loathed Chloe’s antagonists with an intensity only moms truly understand. Swallowing deeply, Jennifer could sense the desire welling up inside, a crazy idea, but an undeniable craving…
She could trim 11 years off Alyssa Westenberg.
And yet the choice would come with far-reaching consequences. With only one “turn,” so to speak, Jennifer would only mature into her mid-teens, and the decision would be final. Assembling a list of pros and cons on such short notice proved daunting, especially when combined with the flighty impulses of a once hyperactive child. Decision-making was never her strong suit, and her cognitive abilities weren’t exactly at their height. On the one hand, she would be forfeiting her current life for a brand new arrangement, becoming just a year older than her own daughter. Am I really ready to take on a second round of high school? she debated. Keeping up with Snapbook, Facechat, or whatever the hell kids used these days?
Relatively popular at that age, Jennifer relished the idea of taking Chloe under her wing and giving her the guidance she wouldn’t accept from an adult, much less a parent. But what about Dan? A dedicated father and reliable breadwinner, yes. And she loved him dearly, even if the flame of their relationship had been flickering for some time. Lately, their marriage seemed rote and by-the-numbers, with moments of romance and true intimacy increasingly few and far between.
One other option entered her consciousness, but she dismissed the motherly fancy almost as soon as it arose. She could keep the curse all in the family and trade places with Chloe.
Caught in a brief sentimental interlude, Jennifer visualized the scene — taking down the glut of Nine Inch Nails posters, unscrewing the black lights, and redecorating her room with the My Little Pony theme she loved at that age. With 10 years between them, she could take on the role of the protective big sister, showing little Chloe the ways of the world. For a few fleeting seconds Jennifer permitted her mind to drift, imagining her only child back in a size six floral lace dress with that angelic face and milk chocolate eyes. But it wouldn’t work, she reminded herself. Chloe would remember everything, including her old life as a teenager. And she would know it was me who made her little again.
Perhaps unconsciously, Jennifer’s internal GPS was already wandering its own direction, toward an address she had visited only once before. A last ditch, and ultimately futile, effort to get Alyssa’s scatterbrained mom to reel in her daughter last spring. But now Jennifer found herself on a different mission: cutting the Markland High sex symbol down to size. Literally.
Once again energized by the thought, the single-minded princess gradually picked up her pace as the official trick-or-treat hours began to wane. The audience of wandering ghosts and goblins starting to thin out, Jennifer realized it was decision time. No going back. Even so, she wavered for moment as she approached the dimly-lit bungalow on Preston Street. Yearning for an end to her five-year-old adventures, the reality of her impending choice gave her pause.
16, 1-6, she repeated to herself, still in disbelief. Driver’s permit here I come.
Swallowing hard and steeling herself, Jennifer reached for the bell. After a long, disconcerting wait, Alyssa emerged — still fully costumed and seemingly in character — with a look of skeptical fatigue.
“You again? Jesus,” the teen muttered. “You just don’t quit. Back to teach me some more important life lessons?”
You have no idea. Jennifer smiled to herself. “Trick or trade!” she trumpeted, extracting a fun-size Skittles from her grimy grocery bag and holding it out for inspection.
“What is this, a peace offering?”
Jen’s puppy-dog pokerface didn’t betray her.
Unimpressed, Alyssa nevertheless grabbed the candy, stuck it between her teeth, and rummaged around the coatrack at the entrance searching for the basket of Smarties her mother usually left out. One solitary package remained. “There,” she said bluntly, tossing it into Jennifer’s bag. “Happy now?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Eyes sparkling with something more than gratitude, Jenny stayed patiently put, just as little Christine had earlier than evening awaiting the inevitable. And sure enough, the sequence of events began to play out — as evidenced by the amusing contortions on Alyssa’s pale face. Rendered temporarily inert, the teenager’s eyes grew round.
“Um, I feel really weird just now,” she announced. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Oh no, you’re fine,” the periwinkle princess coaxed. “Trust me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“We just made a little trade is all,” Jennifer disclosed, blithely walking past the agitated teen and setting up shop in the nearby den.
“Hey, get out of the house. What are you doing?” Alyssa ordered, the inaugural effects taking hold and worming up her body.
A tender tickle soon blanketed her feet, legs, and thighs, steadily advancing past her privates, causing her to reflexively grab her crotch. Like Goldilocks, Jennifer carefully selected a recliner from which to view the coming attractions. The now customary sensations caused few worries this time, as she knew exactly what was coming. In fact, the metamorphosis should run its course faster this time, she reasoned, with fewer years to transfer.
“Just try to relax,” Jennifer advised. “Life is about to get a lot simpler.”
Part 3
Spotting wrinkles in the once wetsuit tight Daddy’s Lil Monster shirt, Jennifer knew the process was running right on schedule. With only 16 years to play around with, the outward effects would become visible much sooner. After all, Alyssa had only enjoyed her coveted cleavage for the better part of two years, and the curse would make quick work of that.
“What the fuck is this?” the dazed teen demanded, already detecting subtle but unsettling changes in her anatomy.
Watching with elation, Jennifer again wondered about the curse’s side effects and whether they were contributing to the lust for revenge and her unbridled joy at witnessing Alyssa’s descent. Either way, she couldn’t take her eyes off Harley Quinn as the spell zapped her essence. At 14 going on 13, the pastel hot pants no longer grabbed her thinning waist and the black, torn fishnets appeared much too grown up for the wearer. By 12, the late bloomer’s assets had dwindled considerably. Alyssa flinched as a cursory analysis of her tits brought some unwelcome news.
“What — what’s happening?” she repeated, hyperventilating. “Make it stop!”
“Yeah, you won’t be breaking too many boys hearts without those, will you?” Jennifer surmised.
“Are you doing this?!”
“Oh no, it’s on autopilot now, dearie. Just have to let it take care of business,” the nine-year-old princess clarified. “Don’t worry though. I promise you’ll still be as cute as ever when it’s done.”
The next round of changes was particularly delicious. Just as Jennifer marked the precursors of puberty, Alyssa made the transition into single digits. What remained of her once sculpted, high cheekbones melted under a ray of innocent sunshine. In moments, the hardcore partier famous for outdrinking the football squad and losing her virginity under the stands was replaced by a junior sweetheart ready for fifth grade picture day. The trademark Harley Quinn pig-tails now told a different story, going from sexy cosplayer to… age appropriate.
Thankfully for Alyssa, the wardrobe started disappearing just as the hot pants slid down her twiggy thighs, taking the now uninhabited Daddy’s Lil Monster shirt with it. She raced to grab them but found she was clutching nothing.
“I’m… fucking shrinking?” the fourth-grader guessed out loud, hearing her retuned vocal cords for the first time.
“Not quite,” Jennifer explained, puberty in full swing. “You’re getting younger. Almost there by the looks of you.”
Petrified, the sandy blonde eight-year-old dropped her head to see an aqua blue gown with a gold wrap coiling around her waist. It seemed to be contracting along with her body. As the curse silently rescinded Jennifer’s regalia and restored her adult clothing, she took mental bets on Alyssa’s old costume choice from 2005. After a few wrong guesses, she nailed it.
“Princess Jasmine from Aladdin,” she buzzed in, her teenage self taking shape. “Hey, can’t have too many princesses. My daughter loved that movie. I think you know her, Chloe Matthews?”
“Wh — what?”
Alyssa was beyond mortified. A cool draft whooshed up the lower half of her chinzy, store-bought costume, causing her seven-year-old frame to contract. As it did, an ancient, long-forgotten conversation replayed in her head. The costume — she remembered trying it on at Target and complaining about how different it looked from the animated film.
“But Mommy, in the movie…”
“Ally, I told you, the big costumes are not for kids,” her mother had said, putting the more risqué version back on the hanger. “I can’t have you running around with a skimpy little top like it’s the beach. It’s going to be close to freezing.”
“That’s what she wears though!” she had moaned.
The memory suddenly fresh in her mind, Alyssa once again experienced the almost painful hunger that nagged at her throughout childhood — the persistent thirst to be one of the “big girls.” Even before she understood the first thing about sex, or noticed her own puberty switch being flipped, she envied the attitude and privileges that came with adulthood. She was jealous of the whole package: breasts, influence on boys, independence, the feminine mystique, the deeper voice, everything. October 9th, 2010 would become a cherished memory, the day she noticed the first faint traces of womanhood surfacing while taking her morning shower. Always worried puberty might pass her by or prove underwhelming, she monitored herself daily, posing like an actress in front of her mother’s floor mirror. In the span of a couple years, it was clear she had hit the genetic jackpot.
But tonight, fate had washed it all away in a near instant, leaving her to relive the torture anew. As the curse let up, gently settling the victim back into the throes of kindergarten, she stared down in unbelief at her pancake-flat chest.
“See, nothing to fear,” the newly re-teened intruder encouraged. “You’re just as pretty as you were a few minutes ago. Adorable even! People are going to love your new look.”
“You bitch! How did you do this?” The accusations were disarmingly cute mixed up an octave. “Change me back!”
“Language, young lady,” Jen disciplined, stroking a strand of Alyssa’s now fairer hair.
“Don’t touch me! I’m calling my mom,” the feisty five-year-old snapped.
“Don’t you want to know what just happened? Or are you happy with your new arrangement? I’d be happy to leave and you can get on with your Barbie coloring books and bubble baths.”
“I am not kidding. Turn me back or..." More pouting.
“Patience, kiddo.” Still acclimating to her high school sophomore build and coordination, Jennifer nevertheless circumnavigated the red-faced child like a hawk. She bit back laughter thinking of Alyssa donning a pint-sized Harley Quinn costume and swinging a miniature whiffle ball bat, trying to intimidate her daughter with infantile G-rated grade school taunts.
“Here’s a thought experiment,” Jennifer said. “What if we sent you back to school like this? And all your friends could get a good look at you. Just take a spin around cheerleader practice and introduce the new Alyssa Westenberg. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
Seething but sensing a moral coming, Princess Jasmine refused to dignify the suggestion with a response.
“That’s how you made my Chloe feel every day. Lording over her with your crew of bullies.”
“What does Chloe Matthews have to do with this? I’m not a little girl,” Alyssa cut through Jennifer’s Sunday School lesson. “I am not a little girl.”
“Want me to get you a mirror? Seems to me your age pretty well matches your maturity level now. Care to try for pre-school?” Jennifer threatened, knowing her powers were already spent but enjoying toying with her victim.
From Alyssa’s perspective, life was spinning out of control at a dizzying speed. Had a few harmless jokes about a classmate really resulted in this supernatural comeuppance? Was she truly stuck as a stupid little kid? It didn’t take long for her to begin regretting the teasing as Jennifer’s speechifying wore on.
“I… I’m sorry,” the defeated former bombshell finally sputtered. “Just don’t leave me like this. I’ll do anything.”
The apology rang somewhat sincere, if self-serving.
“Do… I have to grow up again?” she asked meekly, realizing she held none of the cards this time.
Jennifer sighed. The rules. If Christine honored them, so should she. Maybe the episode alone was enough to scare Alyssa into better behavior. Over the course of the next few minutes, the high school track runner filled her daughter’s nemesis in on all the details, at least those that were passed on to her earlier that evening. As she spelled out the guidelines, glints of optimism reappeared on Alyssa’s face. Obviously, she was putting two and two together faster than Jennifer had.
“So all I have to do is pick somebody!” The wicked gleam in her eyes returned.
“Well,” Jennifer reluctantly acknowledged. “Yes, but you have to think about this…”
Enemies list already compiling in the impetuous youngster’s brain, Alyssa wasted no time poring over the moral and ethical considerations involved and skipped straight to vendetta. So many deserving contenders, so little time.
“Think about what?” the Aladdin love interest spouted. “There’s no way I’m staying a dumb kindergartner. It doesn’t sound like you wanted to either.”
In fact, Alyssa’s naturally vengeful tendencies needed little prodding to spring into action. In no time, she whittled a long list of worthy nominees down to the perfect choice, an inspired choice, and he lived near the park just two blocks east.
Cameron Stefaniak.
Last February, he had committed a cardinal sin in Alyssaland by dumping her very publicly on Facebook. None of her boyfriends lasted longer than about four months, all casualties of the relentless churn of her shifting attentions, but Cameron had held promise. Unlike her easy dudebro catches, he was something of a prize himself, often occupying countless pages in yearbooks designed by nerdy, fawning would-be girlfriends. And he knew it. A high school renaissance man, Cameron excelled in a pamphlet’s worth of extracurricular activities from soccer to jazz band. The pairing — dubbed Camlyssa by Markland’s resident cultural commentators — seemed fairy tale, but like Brad and Angelina the facade eventually crumbled. In humiliating fashion.
And now she could repay the favor with a cold blast from the past.
Oh god, how she would savor this. Observing him slip back into middle school, then elementary school. Seeing that foxy face and slick, grungy hair giving way to a handsome little boy. She had some idea of what to expect from the occasional old tagged family photo that would pop up in her Facebook feed: a cute munchkin with a button nose, weak chin, sprinkling of cinnamon freckles. Of course, the best part would take place downstairs.
“Heh,” she giggled, imagining that first distressing peek inside the ol’ underwear.
Jennifer had barely finished her warnings when Alyssa bumped into her leg on the way out. Unfazed, Princess Jasmine yanked Jen’s slapdash candy bag off the recliner and made a beeline for the door.
“Just remember—“
“Yeah, I know. Blah, blah,” the impossible little squirt griped, slamming open the screen door.
Shoulders slumping, Jennifer resigned to the fact that, entertaining as it was, her intervention probably accomplished nothing except to further piss Alyssa off once she regained that insane bod of hers. But she couldn’t bring herself to withhold the information. Only seven minutes of officially sanctioned trick-or-treating time remained and candy supplies were probably running low in many households, but she had no doubt Alyssa would successfully swap with some unfortunate soul. What a strange running joke this was.
Sure enough, Alyssa blazed down the emptying streets on a war footing. The porch light dark at the Stefaniak’s tree-shaded residence, she approached anyway and rang the doorbell once — then again after an achingly long eternity of a few seconds. The unmistakable strains of his incessant guitar noodling were audible from the basement. I hope Cameron’s mom is still out with his little sister, she thought. I want him all to myself.
She was in luck. After another delay and some bumbling sounds in the background, Cameron answered the door with his prize Stratocaster slung around his back like Bruce Springsteen.
“Um, I think you’re a little late,” the hoodied 17-year-old briefed the cute straggler.
Alyssa flashed a persuasive smile full of chiclet baby teeth. “Trick or trade!”
“Let’s see if we have anything left.” He foraged around briefly, eventually discovering the paltry, unpopular leftovers. Two dented Caramellos and some sickening circus peanut-like abomination. He held the surplus out for Alyssa’s appraisal. “See anything here you like?”
Alyssa made her selection. Likewise, the peculiarly familiar visitor — where had he seen this girl before? — proudly held out her donation.
“Oh, um, that’s ok. I really don’t need any candy.”
“Trick or trade!” she chirped, undaunted.
“You really don’t have to do that,” Cameron assured. “You should keep it for yourself. It doesn’t look like you got much of a haul tonight.”
Frustrated with her ex-boyfriend’s endless politeness, she stuck her arm out as far as it would go.
“Trick or trade!”
Just before Cameron could give in and comply with her insistent orders, a small blur darted around his legs, snatching the fun-sized Skittles from Alyssa’s hand.
“Mine!” a triumphant high-pitched voice cackled.
“Sorry about that,” Cameron said, trying unsuccessfully to corral the wee thief. “That’s my cousin. Come here, Johnny…”
“Nooo!” Alyssa yelped, stomach slamming into the ground. “No, no, no, no….”
It had all happened so fast. With no warning. Before she could even react. Alyssa froze. As Cameron chased the bandit around the foyer, the panicked trick-or-treater got one good look at her mischievous trading partner before the first tingling wave washed over her.
Epilogue
Jenny and Chloe took turns shoveling handfuls of Orville Redenbacher’s into their faces as the Stranger Things credits rolled. Binge watching had enabled them to devour the entire first season in one weekend, a new record for team couch potato.
“Wait, there’s no more?” Chloe whined.
“I told you, that’s it until next year,” the lounging high schooler said, launching a piece of popcorn at her little sister’s mouth. Close, but no cigar.
“Well, crap. This stuff really is addictive.”
“The show or the popcorn?”
“Both,” Chloe said, grabbing the Roku remote.
The relationship had blossomed in ways Jennifer never expected when she made her fateful Halloween decision about four months ago. At the time, she’d harbored vague hopes that the new arrangement might somehow soften Chloe’s hard shell and make life less fraught for the introverted freshman. It was a gamble, no doubt, considering her daughter’s shyness and padlocked personal life. The trade could easily have backfired, leaving Jennifer a lonely 16-year-old butting heads with her moody, death-obsessed sibling. But encouraging signs appeared within just hours. Just as Christine foretold, at midnight that night the world reordered itself like a computer updating its operating system. When the clock struck 12:00, Jennifer no longer held the position of mom and Dan became a doting father to two loving, if decidedly unique, daughters. Walking around town the following day, with reality showing no evidence of the slightest hiccup, was surreal to say the least.
After that day, it was as if she and Chloe had always been a team — growing up in tandem, through birthdays, holidays, graduations, sharing intimate sisterly moments and diary secrets. While Chloe had maintained her fascination with the macabre, often dragging Jenny to gory horror movies on Friday nights, her nihilistic bent had vanished. It seemed their bond satisfied some unmet need Jennifer could never fill in her old role.
The doorbell sounded. Probably their first customer of the month.
“I’ll get it,” Chloe said, rousing from the Netflix trance.
Marking time at the door was an overly friendly 40-year-old woman bundled up inside layers of scarves and winter gear, rubbing her gloves together for warmth.
“Hi, this is the Matthews house?” she inquired with a poorly lipsticked smile.
“Yep.”
“Good, good,” she said, turning to pull a stroller onto the porch. “I thought I recognized you from your picture on Craigslist. I read your listing and checked your references. You and your sister came highly recommended. So wonderful to have available babysitters so close.”
“Oh, thanks,” Chloe hated chitchat with strangers but it came with the job. “Can I help you with that?”
“Yes, please do. They make these things so bulky these days.”
Chloe slid her way past the talkative patron and angled the stroller up and into the entrance with astronaut-like skill.
“Thank you,” the effusive woman repeated, heaving a bulging overnight bag onto the living room floor. “These are just a few things you’ll need for tonight. She’s very picky about which disposable diapers she wants. Last week, I bought a new brand and she threw a tantrum, so you have to keep an eye on her.”
“No problem,” Chloe guaranteed. “It won’t be our first crying fit, trust me.”
The leather-jacketed teen knelt down to greet their newest charge.
“Hi there. Scared about leaving mom? That’s ok. We won’t bite,” she cooed at the frowning tot. “How old is she again?”
“Oy,” the woman sighed. “Just turned two a few months ago. You know what they say about the twos.”
“They’re not so terrible,” Jenny responded, finally making an appearance — only to suddenly pause halfway down the hall when she recognized Mrs. Westenberg. Chloe had organized this particular babysitting gig, neglecting to tell her the name. Oh my god, is that… She set her steaming hot chocolate down on the bannister and slowly moved toward the stroller, taking up residence next to Chloe.
“Alyssa?”
“We call her Ally most of the time,” her mom noted.
This would explain the cocky teenager’s abrupt disappearance from Markland High following their little encounter in October. The nagging question had eaten at Jennifer in the ensuing months, until she gave up and assumed Alyssa had swapped with a college student somewhere and landed at some second-rate party school for five years of keggers and undecided majors. But no, this was definitely her. The features were there, arched eyebrows and those sloping cheeks, if hidden under stores of babyfat. Does she remember? Jenny wondered, almost certain she detected a twinkle of dread in the toddler’s summer blue eyes. She could hardly stifle a laugh, admiring karma’s handiwork.
“And how did you manage to wind up like this, huh?” she whispered, as Chloe ironed out the details and jotted down emergency numbers. The stoic stroller occupant crossed her arms and stared holes into the floor, in the closest thing to a “screw you” she’d ever seen from a two-year-old. Jenny responded by tickling her tummy.
“Dinner is around six. I typically give her a bath before bedtime around 8:30, then she sleeps for maybe six hours,” her mother explained. “You might have to change her early in the morning if she fusses.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her,” Jenny said, grabbing the unsuspecting toddler under the arms and hoisting her up to her chest. “I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”
To be continued next year?
Literature
Invention Gone Wrong: A TG Body and Age Swap
April 2020… Miranda Quinn wiped her brow as she set down her soldering gun. An acrid smell hung in the air as she now gently slipped in the final chips and closed the side of her invention. "It's done" she said as she hooked up her laptop to run the final diagnostic tests, confident they would all come back clean. She pulled her long, dark hair back into a tight ponytail and she took a drink of water as she watched the numbers roll in. "This is going to change the world" she sat confidently "but damn it…I need to test it and have proof before I can proceed and since the world is absolutely fucked right now…" Miranda was champing at the bit. She was ambitious, driven and impulsive. She wanted to know. She needed to know if it worked. "But I have no test subjects! If someone else has been working on this, they might have been ahead of me and I'll will be fucked! No one is going to Alexander Graham Bell me on this!" Miranda heard the feet on the floor above her and she sighed and shook her head. Her son was up. Miranda had to work at odd times due to the fact that her 6 year old son was at home too. "Mommy" she heard as she ascended the steps. "I'm coming honey. Mommy was working" she said. Miranda put on a smile as she came up into the kitchen. Drew smiled back, still in his pj's and barefoot, his wild hair in corkscrews. "Why can't I see what you're doing down there? I won't break it…I'll be good" he said as his Mom crossed the room lightly. Miranda got out a bowl from the upper cupboard and filled it with cereal and milk for him. "What I'm working on is very special honey and…" Miranda's voice drifted off as she warmed up. Her cheeks flushed as a chill ran down her spine. "You are not thinking about testing this out with yourself and Drew" she scolded herself. Miranda watched her Don shoveling in his breakfast, milk dripping down his chin that he wiped off with the cuff of his sleeve. Miranda began to argue with herself "How fucking unethical can you be?!" Said one side. "But it works! And I know it works and it's harmless!" Said the other side. Miranda got quiet as Drew finished his bowl, noisily slurping the milk. "Let's go get you ready and signed on for school okay" Miranda said. Even though Drew was just in 1st grade, dealing with online school was suddenly taking up a lot of Miranda's time. She combed his hair as he brushed his teeth and then got dressed as Miranda signed on the laptop. As Drew spent his time in class, Miranda went over her specs time and time again "I'll limit it to just a really quick, really small part. It will be fast and simple. Drew will love it too" Miranda worked on her courage and ethics as Drew worked on math and spelling. After he was allowed to sign off for the day, Drew usually went to watch his favorite shows, but today, his Mom was waiting for him. "So…how would you like to help me out today? I need a special assistant downstairs" Drew lit up and started bouncing and nodding. "You always ask what I'm working on so today, I'm going to show you" Miranda said. Miranda Quinn was 35 and frankly, a genius. She held her PhD high as she worked in very top level development for bioengineering medical companies. She was average in build; 5'5" and 125 pounds. She had straight brown hair and brown eyes. She had married her college sweetheart but he had broken her heart and abandoned her and their son. "There's a lot of scientific stuff I could tell you about what this is but I think the easiest way to say it, is that this let's someone see what the other one is thinking" Drew looked at the set up not really understanding. "It will help doctors to see what people are really thinking about. That's the easiest way to explain it. So, what I need your help with is, I'm going to hook us both up then I'm going to think of certain things and all I need you to do is tell me what you see to see if matches up with what I'm thinking" "I can do that!" Drew lit up again, he loved being helpful for his Mom. He just wanted her to be happy.  It took Miranda a few minutes to get everything hooked up and calibrated. Drew sat in one of the chairs, his short little legs swinging well above the ground. A headband wrapped around his forehead with wires running to the central apparatus. Miranda got her own set up and set everything up. With a flick of a switch, they were operational. "Now I'm going to send images to you. You just tell me what you see, okay honey?" "Okay Mommy," Drew replied enthusiastically. Miranda cleared her mind and concentrated on forming an image her son would recognize. "Spider-Man!" Drew shouted. Miranda felt her chest swell. She had been thinking of her son's favorite superhero. "Now I see a dog! And…and now an ice cream cone and Batman. Batman eating the ice cream cone!" Drew was excited. Miranda smiled. "Now I see me!" Drew yelled out and Miranda had been thinking about her son. Drew had been told to keep his mind as blank as he could but, being 6, he now thought of his Mom. Miranda got a sudden and strong image of herself projected into her mind.  "What the?" She thought as she began to smell something hot and burning. In that moment, a pure split second, they both thought of the other, both in a concerned, frantic moment of all of their senses. Drew thought of his Mom for wanting her to give him safety and comfort.  Miranda thought of her son, wanting to comfort and protect him, to assure him that everything was fine. Adrenaline hit them as the device surged. Pops and snaps; smoke shot out the top as it overloaded. Miranda felt an intense pinching in her forehead that then rushed through her entire body. Her eyes opened and she found herself staring at Drew's feet. His toes pointed down, locked. "Mommy!" He pleaded in a panic. "Drew!" She cried out, her hand reaching for the switch that was closer to his side of the device. Drew's hand went to the device and found the switch. For some reason, he knew that it needed to be switched off. Schematics rose up in his mind. He felt his Mom's hand touch his own as he switched it off. Electricity surged through Drew's hand into Miranda. Miranda thought of Drew. Drew thought of his Mom. Mother and son. Son and Mother.  Their images combined in their minds, merged together and became one before they both shot backwards. "Muh…Mommy?!" "Duh…Drew?!" They both heard the words. Miranda got an image of herself from a low angle, like she was looking up at herself. Drew got an image of himself from above, like he was looking down at himself. Miranda's ears were ringing, her mouth felt dry. Drew worked his jaw open as far as it would go and his ears popped. Miranda's vision blurred and wobbled at the edges. Drew seemed further away, like he was in a tunnel even though she knew he was just feet away. He sprang back closer as her vision adjusted. Confused and suddenly tired, Miranda's body began to tingle. Her invention smoked and popped between them. "Drew? Are you okay?" She said but the ringing in her ears made it sound muffled. Drew just stared back at her; jaw open, a look of shock in his eyes. Miranda got to her feet. Her legs were wobbly and she staggered the two steps forward. She grabbed Drew by the shoulders and easily lifted him out of the seat to his feet. Drew blinked as Miranda grabbed the headband and pulled it off of him while taking off her own at the same time. Drew wrapped his arms around his Mom's waist as another surge shot out into Miranda's hands which rushed through both of them increasing the tingling sensation in both of them. Miranda felt her son clamp his arms harder on her. She dropped the headbands and hugged Drew. Miranda felt a tension and tightness in her shoulders. That spread to her chest. Then her hips. Then her thighs. She felt squeezed, almost like a strong massage in her muscles. She leaned over Drew and held him close. Drew began to fidget "I feel funny Mommy! Like, like I'm spaghetti!" Miranda blinked. Something seemed different. Something was very off. A pending sense of doom washed over her and settled right in her gut. A cold wave of fear took hold of her very core. Drew was moving against her. His head had been against her stomach but now. The top of his head pressed against the bottoms of her breasts. She could feel him straining upwards all the while, she felt as if she were being pressed downward. She looked at the chair Drew had been sitting in, did it seem bigger? Higher up somehow? Her clothes bellowed, moving on their own. She felt the shoulders of the green top move outward. She felt her black leggings loosen like the elastic went out of them. The cold hand gripped her heart. Drew squirmed uncomfortably and broke away from her. He took a step back and Miranda gasped. Her son was…bigger! Taller and she could see him growing right before her eyes. She couldn't believe it, couldn't comprehend it. "Mommy?! What's happening?!" Drew called out. The sleeves of his red tee shirt were riding back. The bottom of his shirt was rising up as it grew tighter and smaller on his chest. "Mommy it pinches!" He was looking down at the waistband of his pants.  Miranda looked down, but not nearly as far as she should and saw the elastic there snap. A tear opened to give relief to Drew even as the bottom cuffs of his pants steadily rose higher up his calves. Drew exhaled and Miranda saw his eyes fixate on her. He cocked his head, confusion in his eyes as he struggled to understand what was going on. His head snapped back straight and his jaw opened. He pointed at her "Mommy! You're shrinking!" He giggled. Miranda was on the verge of a full blown panic attack. Everything was suddenly swimming, overwhelming her. Her mind simply couldn't comprehend the dynamics of what was happening. Her genius level mind froze when confronted with the impossible. Drew was still rising up taller. He was undeniably getting bigger; taller and simply more substantial. At the same time, every physical cue she was receiving also relayed the impossible fact that she was absolutely getting smaller. The room looked larger around her. She knew he was not only rising up in front of her, but she also had to realize that she was lowering down in front of him. They were about to meet in the middle.  Drew was 3'10". He weighed about 45 pounds. Miranda found herself looking him directly in the eye across from her. She had just been 19 inches taller than him. They were now equal in size. They were both about 4'8"; her math skills suddenly decided to kick in "I'm 4'7 ½ and so is my son?!?!" She thought but she couldn't speak. She just shook her head and mumbled in shock. Drew smiled. Miranda cocked her head, her son's face looked fuzzy, out of focus? "I'm going crazy!" she thought; then it hit her.  Horror and shock, disbelief and incredulous disturbance crashed home in her, breaking her paralysis with a true bombshell. Jarred into action by the recognition that the features of her son's face were changing. A little boy's face was becoming fuller and more defined. It was also becoming feminine and very familiar. Miranda saw her son's lips spread out and plump up and her breath caught in her chest. His round little cheeks and chin started to become more defined and prominent. His nose grew larger and longer. Drew's hands came up and hovered over his face. He looked confused "My face is numb! It's tingling!" Drew's ears popped out and holes appeared in.the lobes just as his hair began to grow. He swiped at it as it tickled his ears and neck. "Oh no" Miranda said watching Drew's eyes shift and widen, the corners turning.  She saw her own face coming into focus, her own face emerging on her son. "Ah!" She yelped at the unbelievable sensation of her own hair lifting up and pulling inward atop her head. Drew reared back in visible shock "Mommy!?! What's happening to your face?!" Miranda's face was going numb and tingling. She was clutching at her hair as it spiraled up, the tendrils retreating away from her fingers. Miranda now touched her face. It was the oddest feeling: Her skin tightened and rose up.as she touched her cheeks. She felt her nose shrink and change shape even as she pulled on it trying to force it to maintain its shape. Her chin rounded and pulled up, her jawline shifted inward and upward. Her hands frantically moved about. Her forehead was softer, her ears diminished in size, her soft hair settled in, all much shorter and closer to her scalp, unruly in the way that all little boy's hair was. Her eyes widened and lifted, rounding out in childish wonder. The changes to her mouth made her shiver. The odd, other worldly sensation of her teeth changing from her own into her son's baby teeth. Each tooth pulled up and inward. Some disappeared, others shrank down and weakened as her entire mouth grew smaller and her lips thinned. "MOMMY!!!!!!" Drew screamed in recognition, his voice still high and childish even as his teeth clicked as he tried to adjust to his new mouth and the big teeth it contained. "You…" he said breathlessly as he pointed at her "You look like me!" "Honey…were going to figure out…I don't know what caused this but don't worry. I'm, uh, I'm right here and I will fix this" she said in an extremely shaky voice "Haha, you look funny Mommy! You've got my face and my hair and! We're like the same size! Does that mean I'm growing or are you shrinking?" "I think it's both honey. I think, somehow, I'm turning into you and you're turning into me" Drew's jaw dropped "I'm going to be YOU?! I'm going to be Mommy?! Yuck! I don't want to be a girl but… that would mean that I'm the grown up and you will be the little kid haha that's so funny!" Miranda gave the weakest smile ever and a very fake, nervous single chuckle. "I think I know what did it" Drew said, looking at the invention. A new wave of shame and anguish but also bewilderment "There's no way that could possibly…there's not enough power in it to, to somehow cause us to switch bodies" Miranda said. "But with the right surge, combining the x and a panels which then exponentially amplifies the y and z prototype possibly manifesting what we were seeing and reaching for" Drew said, shocking both of them, chilling Miranda to her core hearing these words and thoughts coming from a 6 year old who.was just learning how to read. "How did you know that?! How could you say that and, and understand the schematics?!" Miranda felt panic rising up. Drew cocked his head "I just saw the, the, um, plans!" He looked confused and scared but then, his expression changed 180 degrees to a smile and Miranda saw her own face with a very childish expression of humor. Miranda also realized what was making Drew so excited. The pressure on her shoulders flared up and she felt squeezed a bit this time, it also felt like a tight elastic strap around her chest that was now pressing down. "Ah!" Miranda shrieked as, while still maintaining eye contact with Drew, she found her eyes now training upward. Complete, existential dread built up as her 6 year old son grew taller than her. She shuddered, shivering all over which only seemed to give her a new spurt of shrinking down smaller. Miranda felt her muscle mass dissipate. Any and all adult strength in her arms, back, core and legs was evaporating into baby fat.  An odd feeling just feeling her strength and tone going soft. Her shirt was huge on her so Miranda was able to look down and see her chest. The sleeves now came down past her elbows but her forearms just looked doughy. She picked and plucked and saw her upper arm was just shapeless and there, no definition, but very supple flesh. As she shrank down smaller, Miranda shrank out of her bra, but she still had breasts. Still shaped the same, just smaller due to her smaller frame.  She took a moment to glance up. Drew was now a full head taller than her; she was only up to his chin. Drew's eyes popped wider and he looked down at his tight shirt. He squirmed and fidgeted and then laughed "It tickles!" He yanked at his shirt "my chest feels all funny!" All of Miranda's chest muscles constricted. The invisible strap clamped down so tight, it took her breath away. She gasped and froze. Her toes pointed inward as her knees came together and she looked down the front of her shirt in time to see her breasts begin to actually regress. Not just get smaller, but to actually pull back into her chest. Her nipples shrank, her areolas got smaller atop her diminished breasts.  Never overly busty, Miranda saw her body go into reverse. The heft disappeared first. They pulled up rounder, then went cone shaped before pulling back absolutely flat. Shocked, Miranda could see Drew dancing nervously, fidgeting a lot "Mommy?! Why is my chest poking out?" "Well, um…Drew, those are called breasts and Mommy's have them. Women have them" "They feel funny and weird and they're making my stomach all flippy!" Miranda blushed seeing the cone shaped breasts poking out against his teeny shirt. They rounded into shape. A bit more heft settled onto them, as they came into place. Miranda looked up at Drew's underboobs. She was that short now compared to Drew. Drew looked down on his Mom. He grabbed his breasts and moved them around in a circular motion. He shuddered at the sensation and laughed which kicked in a quick growth spurt. His legs lengthened and began to change shape, taking on definition as his thighs began to round and thicken. His pants split even further, his right thigh spilled out as it filled out, gaining a woman's curve. Now over 5 feet tall, his muscles began to form up giving mature defined muscles to his arms, shoulders, back and core. Drew's hands tingled as did Miranda's. Already changed due to their different sizes, now individual features began to transfer. Miranda's fingers shrank down stubby, thinner with extremely ragged nails. Drew's fingers elongated and while the nails weren't long, they were filed and cared for.  Miranda flexed and wiggled her fingers feeling her stomach loosen once again simply reverting to baby fat. Drew's stomach wasn't flat or perfect but core muscles firmed up. Miranda watched that change perfectly in front of her face as her son's shirt had risen up so much, his stomach was fully exposed. Drew flexed his shoulders and they both heard the thinned fabric rip and split down his back. He felt cool air as the shirt shredded. Their height difference had grown to almost a foot and a half. Just a few more inches to go as Miranda shrank down to just 4 feet tall. Her leggings hung on her, her panties were bunched and sliding everywhere with every movement. Miranda's hips and ass had steadily diminished, flattening and straightening as she lost all semblance of a woman's body. She felt her legs changing, steadily losing distinctive curves and weight. They were becoming the simple, nondescript legs of a child. Short, stocky and uniform; no full thighs or calf muscles to pop out and distinguish them. Drew's Spider-Man underwear was stretching out and tearing apart as he grew womanly hips and his rear end inflated and popped out. He squirmed against the changes, bouncing as his center of gravity altered. His pants tore further, the bottom seams popping as calf muscles developed. The pants flapped worthless and ruined as both of them now looked to their tingling feet. Miranda's feet, already shrunken down, flattened as her arches dropped. Her toes grew even smaller but gained a softness. Drew felt the muscles across the bottoms of his bigger feet stretching and his toes lifted reflexively and spread apart. His heels shifted as the skin grew rougher. His arches lifted and his feet spread out as his toes lengthened and the nails smoothed out. Only one more big physical change remained and Miranda was absolutely dreading it above all the others. Confusion washed over Drew's face "Just relax honey!" Miranda called out "Something really different is about to change but I'll help you out okay. It's a big change for me too" Drew bit his lower lip and nodded, worried "My tummy hurts…I feel really warm all of a sudden" he said. "I know. I feel it too but it'll be over in just a few seconds if we just relax we can…AH!" Miranda yelped and jumped while Drew folded over, leaning far forward and straining. Then, Drew rose back.up straight. He threw his shoulders back, put his chest and chin out and he shivered all over. The last few inches of his Mom's height came to him. Drew had Miranda's body. Miranda curled up inward feeling so strange between her legs and in her lower abdomen. Then, she popped up, standing straight before a bone chilling shiver ran over and through her tiny body as she shrank down the final 2 inches to.take her down to Drew's former size below 4 feet tall. Barely higher than Drew's waist, Miranda had Drew's body. She swallowed hard feeling a lump.in her throat "Drew!" She said jumping hearing her voice had also changed with this last dramatic change. Drew looked puzzled at the sound he had heard "Mommy?!" He said testing his voice and smiling upon hearing it. "I even sound like you now too" Miranda nodded, feeling a definite change in the air, in the room "I'm going to…We're going to figure this out and fix it and switch back okay honey" she said in her childish voice. Drew nodded. Miranda looked at her invention, tools sat nearby but first, she had to establish the two of them. "Let's get you dressed in some appropriate clothes first okay" she said to Drew who smiled. Miranda was freaked out seeing herself from a different perspective. Leading her body away from where they swapped, her small hand engulfed by her former hand squeezing it a bit too hard; Drew was nervous and scared and didn't know his new strength. "Honey, you're hurting my hand. You're bigger and stronger than Mommy how we are right now. Be gentle with me" "I'm sorry Mommy " he loosened his grip. "Just rip those clothes off, they're useless now" Miranda said and Drew smiled.  He easily ripped the little boy clothes off his body, laughing as he tore them away. "Mommy! I don't look right! Where's my…" "Your body is different now. It's not scary. It's just different but it's what girls have. It's perfectly normal for a girl…or, or a woman in your case" she blushed as she worked her way out of her huge clothes. "I will help you get used to it for the time being but, like I've said, we're going to switch back" "Okay" he said. Miranda didn't bother with the bra. She handed over her panties, leggings and top and added a hooded sweatshirt that was lying nearby. Drew furrowed his brow, confused but he got dressed, giggling a bit when his boobs bounced "I'm all jiggly!" He said as he looked over his shoulder "I've got a big butt!" He laughed.  "Hey!" Miranda said "Be nice!" She dressed quickly in a set of her son's clothes that were in the laundry basket. She didn't want to dwell on it or even look at herself as she dressed. She looked off pulling on small underwear, pants and tee shirt "I'm in kid sizes! I have the body of a 6 year old!" She looked up at Drew, standing there, looking down at himself, taking it in.  "The floor looks so far away" Drew said dreamily. She put her hands out at the full length of his arms. Miranda went to her invention "Damn this looks so much bigger now" she mumbled as she fumbled with a screwdriver. It kept slipping from her hand. She couldn't wrap her hand around it, she used both hands and had to use all of her strength to get enough torque to open the panel. Smoke puffed out; the smell of burnt wiring hung thick in the air. "I don't even know where to begin. Everything is fried. I'm going to have to start all over" Miranda thought dejected. "How am I going to replace these?!" Fear and panic began to rise "Nothing is open…Absolutely nothing! I don't have enough spare parts and…" she looked down "Not like I can drive! And Drew can't either" Miranda was getting scared. She pulled parts as Drew walked around the basement, fidgeting and bored. "I'm hungry Mommy" he said "I'm really hungry" Miranda sighed heavily. "Yeah. Okay honey. I, I need a break anyway. I really need to think about this anyways" Miranda struggled up the stairs "Damn these short ass little legs" Drew laughed "Haha Mommy! I'm bigger and stronger and faster than you now!" He took the stairs fast to the top. "Whoa" Miranda gulped as she stepped into the kitchen. The pure size of everything intimidated her. She could feel her heart beating faster. She got dizzy seeing how big the dining room chairs were. Her eyes were barely above the countertops. Drew giggled seeing his Mom's reaction. It hit him that since he was now his Mom's size, he could reach everything in the kitchen but she couldn't; including the cookies she kept on the top shelf. Miranda blushed and felt flustered and disoriented in her own kitchen. She grabbed a chair and dragged it loudly across the floor to get up tall enough to get to the exact same cupboard she had reached with no problem earlier in the day when she got Drew his bowl for cereal. After getting out plates, she had to move the chair to get to a separate cupboard to get out bread and a bag of chips. "We're just going to have sandwiches for lunch, okay honey" Miranda said. Drew nodded "I'm just so hungry" "Well, I hadn't eaten anything yet today and so I guess since you now have my stomach" "Your empty stomach!" Drew surmised. They both made their own; Drew made a salami and yellow mustard while Miranda made turkey, swiss, lettuce and mayo. Miranda looked at the very full Costco size jug of apple juice "Um…Drew?" "Yes Mommy" "Could you do me a favor? Could you get a glass down and then, could you, um, help me pour your juice for you?" "Sure Mommy!" Drew hopped up and easily grabbed a glass, then he proceeded to easily lift the jug and pour without spilling a drip "Wow! That was so easy! Why couldn't you do it Mommy?" "Well honey, because it's too heavy for Mommy just like it was too heavy for you earlier" she was forced to admit. "It's just one thing after another. Just really pounding it home huh" Miranda thought to herself as she got into her chair at the dining room table and felt her feet leave the ground and dangle in the air.  She shot a look underneath the table and saw her old feet and legs; those feet sitting flat against the floor as Drew sat down and even sat back. Miranda cracked open her Diet Coke and took a drink, immediately making a face "Blech…I don't…oh." She looked across at Drew who was looking at the silver can. "Like everything else today…let's switch drinks too" Drew quickly swapped them and then looked at his sandwich "I think we should switch all our food" "Good call" Miranda agreed, already thinking she'd prefer salami and mustard.  "This is really good!" Drew remarked about eating Miranda's sandwich. Miranda nodded and smiled as she took another handful of chips. "Hey, easy on the chips. You'll get a belly ache" Drew said and Miranda froze. Drew froze too and they stared at each other. Miranda initially froze because her brain told her she was being reprimanded by an authority figure. It was purely a natural, reflexive reaction. Then she froze because of how casually Drew had said a line she had said herself a hundred times to Drew when their roles were reversed. Drew's eyes were wide, his jaw went up and down before he simply smiled and he gave his Mom a sheepish look. But something inside him clicked. Saying that, to his Mommy, had felt right. "I sounded just. Like. Mommy! I look like Mommy and I sound like Mommy…I like Mommy's food, hmmm…I wonder if…"  Drew finished his sandwich as Miranda ate the rest of hers looking down at the table. Miranda focused on how to fix her invention "That’s the only way to fix this and get us back to our real bodies. Get me out of this little boy body!" She hopped down off her chair, hating the feeling of how far a drop it was "I've got to get to work. Do your homework and then watch one of your shows; I'll come check on you or you can come down" "Okay Mommy" Drew replied as he watched her go down to the basement.  Drew had some reading and math homework to do. His book was Nate the Great about a kid detective.  He curled up on the couch and opened the book. Starting out, Drew sounded out a few words to keep going but as he read on further, his lips stopped moving along. The words were coming faster and easier. Drew was picking up speed, breezing through his assignment. When he got to the end of his assigned pages, his jaw dropped a bit "Wow. That was, easy? Easier than usual…" Drew got out the math worksheet that was in his weekly packet. It was addition and subtraction problems and he started out slowly. By the 2nd row, he picked up speed. By the 3rd row, it was coming automatically to him. By the 4th row, his handwriting improved. The numbers were neat and uniform in size. Drew sat back in more than a bit of shock. He swung around and sat down in his Mom's favorite chair. He crossed his legs naturally, not even thinking about the fact that he had never sat that way before in his life. He effortlessly put his right leg over the left and bounced his right foot. Miranda had a book lying on the table next to her, a novel "The Kite Runner", and Drew picked it up. Miranda had been on page 203, her bookmark was there and Drew opened to it. With a deep breath in through his nose, Drew began to read. He understood the words and the dialog between the characters. As he read on, he realized he knew what was going on. He knew plot points from the earlier chalice he had read them himself. Drew snapped the book shut, suddenly full of mixed emotions. Fear but also excitement. "Am I thinking like Mommy now too?!" He thought, biting his lower lip and sitting back somewhat frozen in the chair.  Miranda ran down the basement steps loudly. She ran to her invention, which had at least finally stopped smoking. She sat down cross legged on the floor as she began to pull out panels, each one was damaged. She had spare chips and she began to replace them one by one.  But the work was hard and tedious. Her small hands were clumsy for such delicate, intricate work. Miranda began to hum.  She didn't even pick up the songs she hummed at first, but it was How Far I'll Go followed by Do You Want to Build a Snowman which moved into The Family Madrigal. Soon, scenes from those Disney movies began to crowd into her thoughts. "Concentrate!" She yelled at herself. Surface Pressure started up in her head. Miranda fidgeted. She bit her fingernails before flopping dramatically backwards "I need my original notes" she said. She got up and went to her desk and dug out her original notebook which she always kept as a hard backup. She opened to the schematics page and her eyes crossed. Miranda shook her head trying to clear the cobwebs but she couldn't stop a sense of dread building up; the notes, her own notes and work, no longer made sense to her. "No…no…this isn't happening" she muttered, feeling heat building up in her fade even.as a cold fist squeezed her heart. She poured over the notes but the mathematical equations were just simply too complicated for her. Worse than that, she backed up pages to simpler equations that started her building blocks and even found those perplexing and convoluted. Miranda sat back, putting her back against the desk, her jaw hanging, her heart pounding and her breathing hitching in her chest. Tears welled up in her eyes. She stared at the notes and thought as hard as she could. Nothing. Suddenly, she had to go to the bathroom; badly. Like all little kids, when it bit, it was instant. Miranda ran to the bathroom and pulled her pants down. A brief moment of panic before she pulled over the little stool she needed to stand on. Miranda felt relief. She still didn't want to face it as she stepped down and pulled up her pants. She went back to her desk and this time she pulled out one of her work manuals. She started to read, the introduction went okay but, soon enough, some of the larger words caused her to pause, then, she had to stop on them. Soon, she was sounding them out, not really positive about their meaning. Miranda swallowed hard and carried the notebook and manual upstairs. Drew was on the couch watching TV. He had his legs tucked underneath him and he had pulled his hair back into a pretty nice ponytail. "Oh Hey!" He called out seeing his old body enter the room. "Hi" Miranda's voice was soft. "What's the matter?" Drew said, already getting up off the sofa. "Um, well, it's…it's hard to say really" Drew gave her an encouraging look. "But, i,uh, I noticed that, that…something else I think is changing. I mean still changing between us" "Oh!" Drew said, curious. Miranda noticed that Drew was watching HGTV. "Have you noticed anything different? Maybe something more, um, in-tuh-leck-shoe-all" she said the last word very deliberately. Drew looked down. Miranda continued "We swapped bodies and now, I think we're switching minds! I think I'm getting your brain and you're going to get mine" "Why do you think that's happening?" Drew asked. "Cause I'm trying to read my notes and, they don't make any sense to me anymore" Miranda looked up "And now even words I know I'm supposed to know are getting harder and harder for me to say and read" "Well, I did notice that my homework was really simple for me today" Drew finally admitted. "Yeah, the words were just, I don't know how to describe it, but they were just there. I just knew them" Miranda was getting scared. Drew crossed the room and got his folder out. He brought over his math sheet "This took me less than a minute to finish" he said handing it over. Miranda noticed the change in penmanship as the work went on. "So it's true. Everything I lose, you gain" Miranda confronted her worst fear. "Oh…it's okay honey" Drew said, his voice full of comfort and concern. A very motherly voice.  He knelt down and hugged her and stroked her hair.  Miranda felt overwhelmed but now felt soothed and comforted. She broke away though and handed the employee manual to Drew "read this" she said. Drew sighed and took the book and began to read out loud "Taking company materials off site must be accompanied by the series A10 form. A valid driver's license is required along with proof of insurance for identification purposes for all vehicular acquisitions" the words flowed effortlessly. They shared a look of mutual shock "Okay but just think about it. It will be alright because if I get all of your mind and skills, then I will understand the invention and I will fix it and switch us back!" Miranda's eyes widened in awe "Yeah! That's it…that would work…even though that means that you'll be my Mommy instead of me being yours" "I'll do whatever I have to to keep you safe" Drew replied "Oh…that means I'll be able to drive!" "Yep! You're going to get all of the skills that I had" Miranda added. "I'll be the Mom and you can be my little boy. My honey!" Drew said. "I'll fix the machine and make sure it can reverse this" Miranda realized it was the only way; she couldn't understand her own work anymore. Drew stood up and Miranda hugged him around the waist. Drew disassociated at that moment. Everything about the situation swirled up in him. He fully remembered this exact scene in reverse right as the machine malfunctioned. When he was still the little boy hugging on his Momma's waist for comfort and protection. Now, all he wanted to do was comfort him. They had swapped physically. They were still swapping mentally, but this was different; they were switching spiritually. "I can’t think of her as my Mom. I'm his Mom" Drew thought as they embraced.  Drew could feel his very soul changing shape inside of him. Filling up this body to match the spiritual with the physical. One of them had to be responsible. One of them needed to be the protector. Drew had the body and mind. She needed to step up. "I can’t do it anymore" Miranda thought desperately as she clung to the body that used to be hers. "Everything is so over…it's too much! I don't have the body or brain to do anything for us anymore!" Miranda added. In a way, she was pushing her worries and responsibilities outward. She had to let them go. She had to accept who she was now. Her spirit was changing to fit and match her physical and mental capabilities. To hold on would have been simply too much. Miranda disassociated. She could still put herself in her original role and body for a moment, remembering everything, every emotion associated with being the Mom comforting her son in this exact scenario. Then, the true reversal swelled up inside of her. She was small, she was young, she no longer had any kind of capacitor complex thought. Her spirit had to adjust and admit what was now their reality. Shrinking down smaller inside of her, Miranda's outsized spirit molded to fit and match up with his physical and mental form. Time had passed. Both of them seemed to twitch and jerk back to reality. Miranda let go and took a step back and looked up to see Drew smiling back down at him. Miranda couldn't think of himself as being in her old self, in her old body, in her old shoes. He was looking at his Mommy and he felt safe, secure, protected and comforted. She would figure it out and fix it. He still knew what had happened to them; he didn't think he could ever forget that, but he also knew their roles and bodies had now changed and were reversed. Drew smiled down and simply knew what she had to do. Filled with a mother's heart and soul that would protect her son. She would do everything she could to switch them back. She knew she was not supposed to be in.this position but since the two of them were now in each other's bodies, lives and shoes, Drew would protect and comfort her son. She knew exactly what had happened to them, she could never forget that. The feeling of changing bodies, the sight of it; seemed seared into her very soul. It would be difficult to not get lost in this body and mind but she had a goal.  Drew grabbed the notebook and began to pour over it. "I'm going to need some time honey to reacquaint myself with all of this. Why don't you go play? It's beautiful outside, why don't you play on the swingset?" Miranda's eyes brightened "Yeah that sounds fun!" he realized just how much pent up energy he had. Miranda wanted to run and play. Drew moved to the living room so she could watch outside as she read. Miranda ran himself ragged, playing a dozen games all at once. Drew continued reading but she also grabbed a bottle of gray nail polish. She painted her toes as she studied. Drew grabbed her cell phone and called the one guy who was in their physical office that day "Hey Eric…long time no see haha" "Hilarious, what's up Miranda?" "Eh…had a little power surge during a test run" she said. "Aw shit" Eric replied. "I'm sorry. I need to basically rebuild the whole thing" "Damn" "Yep. Fried…is it okay if I swing by and raid the supplies" "Yeah. Nobody is here. Everyone is working from home" "Good. I'll have my son with me; can't leave him alone haha" "Well duh haha. Just be sure to have masks. Security codes are still the same" "Got it" Drew replied "I'll see you in a bit" Drew put the sweatshirt on and found some socks since her toes were dry. She put on her tennis shoes, grabbed her purse and keys and headed out to gather up her son. "Hey honey…we need to run down to the facility so I can get replacement parts" "Oh…okay" was all Miranda said as she ran up and past towards the garage. Miranda automatically got in the backseat and buckled up. Drew smirked and got behind the wheel, knowing how to drive like she had been doing for 20 years. Miranda knew the building and knew where her office had been and where all the supplies were. Drew, of course, knew their location too. The difference was that Miranda no longer knew what they needed while Drew was on a mission. Drew used her ID badge and punched in the codes and put her hand up for the fingerprint scan. The doors all opened for her. Drew grabbed a cart. Miranda ran around and would drift off but kept up. Down hallways and around a corner "Hey Eric" Eric spun in his chair, putting his mask on as he did, but they could both yell he was smiling. They chatted and Eric fussed over Miranda, making sure to talk to the young boy. Drew got a replacement for everything. She would start from scratch. Drew worked on minimal sleep. She knew what she was doing but she still needed to be careful and meticulous but she also couldn't work non stop. She needed to also be a good parent and raising her son was something she really enjoyed; she loved spending time with him and teaching him and playing with him, celebrating achievements with him. Miranda felt good. He didn't worry about what might happen. He focused on doing what he needed to do and he was enjoying himself. He liked having time to play, he loved learning and school and he loved his Mommy. They had so much fun together. She always made time for him. He knew that when he was the Mommy, he didn't always make time and pay attention to him. He knew she was doing a better job as Mommy than he had done. Miranda took a minute and concentrated. It was quiet in the house, Mommy was downstairs working, he could hear her talking with Eric from work. Miranda walked down to his Mommy's bedroom softly. Her bed was a lot higher than his so.he to jump and crawl up to get on top of it. "This was my bed" he thought as he closed his eyes and laid perfectly still. Downstairs, Drew finished up the y panel. She hung up with Eric and decided to take a break. She went upstairs and didn't hear anything but she smiled upon seeing her son napping right in the middle of her bed. She crept quietly back to not disturb him but once in the hall, she turned around and stepped into her old room, her son's room. The small twin bed with Spider-Man sheets "This was my bed" she thought as she sat down on it. Drew stretched out, lying on top of it; her feet almost at the very bottom but her heels still stayed up top. She closed her eyes and laid perfectly still. Miranda's breathing regulated and he could feel himself reaching out, searching for answers, searching for the right way forward. Drew fell into a deep state of rest. She could feel a tugging, a pulling, a reaching sensation. She allowed herself to go. Go outward and upward to search. Drew's spirit rose up and left her body. The first thing she saw was Miranda's spirit hovering above his tiny body. Miranda's spirit was free and he sensed another. It was the time and place. Out of time and space, their spirits came together. "Hi Honey!" They both called out enthusiastically in unison. They felt warm and happy; content and yet curious. Miranda was smaller, shorter; her spirit was the shape and size of a 6 year old boy. Drew's spirit had taken the shape of a 35 year old woman but they both knew that currently, absolutely anything was possible. Miranda concentrated and her spirit shape began to change, growing larger and softer, maturing back into her original body. She found herself dressed in a loose, flowing blue and white dress and wedge heels. Drew's jaw dropped seeing his Mom return. His spirit shape immediately responded by shrinking down smaller and returning to his original shape. Back in a red tee shirt and gray sweatpants, he looked up at his Mommy. Miranda smiled broadly and warmly seeing her little boy once again. After a shared moment, Miranda said "I am so proud of you honey!" Drew nodded shyly "You are doing such a super job as me!" Drew looked down before looking up, beaming with pride. "You've rebuilt the invention! But…we both know that there is absolutely no way that you can recreate the chain reaction surges to duplicate the sequence of events that caused us to switch bodies" Drew knew it. She didn't want to face it, but she knew it was true "I…" he started but Miranda stopped him. "You're a better Mom than me" Miranda stated firmly. "You are so much better at making time for me, your little boy, than I did when you were my little boy. Do you like being Miranda? Please answer honestly because honestly I don't think we are able to lie in this state" "Yes I absolutely love being Miranda. I love being a woman and I love being your Mommy" Drew responded and Miranda smiled warmly and happily "I love having you as my Mommy and I love being you, being Drew, being a little boy, being a kid again" With those words, Miranda's shoes vanished. Her jaw dropped, as did Drew's."Those are your shoes. Your heels. I will never wear a pair again" Miranda said as her spirit began to change shape. She started shrinking down smaller and smaller.  Drew's spirit boosted, surged, soared as it began growing larger and softer, as it matured and feminized. Faces changing, bodies changing, clothes changing.  Miranda felt right; at peace as her spirit returned to the shape and size of Drew, of a 6 year old boy. But better than that, was seeing Drew's spirit form take shape as her, a 35 year old woman, as her Mom. "Right now, I would call us Mirandrew and Drewanda" Miranda laughed "but I so want to pass my name off to you fully; make you Miranda forever" "I don't want to steal your life! Your knowledge and education is so vast, so exceptional" Drew said. "And I don't want to steal 29 years from you!" Miranda returned "But this is who we are now. There's no way we're swapping back but I'm happy and so are you" Drew nodded. "So take it and lose the guilt!" Miranda said. Drew felt different, at peace and her spirit began to float backwards towards her prone body. Miranda's spirit also floated back towards his little body. With a final look and nod, their spirits reentered their bodies. Miranda sat up. She was in her son's bed "What the fuck? What a dream?" She swung her legs over and easily hopped off the small frame. She padded her way across the hallway to her room. Drew was awake, lying on the bed smiling "Hi Mommy!" He squeaked out happily. "Hi honey!" Miranda replied, leaning down and giving her son a big hug. Drew wrapped his arms around his Mom's neck and squeezed "It wasn't a dream. That really happened…We're really, really switched for good" Miranda smiled, put her forehead against Drew's and whispered "Thanks for being my little boy" 3 years later, April 2023… Miranda Martin's eyes fluttered open and she exhaled long and hard. It took her a moment to gather herself. She heard noises from down the hall; her son was up and watching TV. Getting up and out of bed wasn't easy these days. She hoisted herself up, digging the heel of her hand into the bed as she swung her legs out. "Dang it…" she mumbled as her hands went to her huge, swollen, pregnant belly. And she eased her feet to the floor. She waddled into the bathroom pulling her hair back into a ponytail.  The last three years had been good for both of them. Drew was getting great grades and playing baseball, football and wrestling. Miranda had finished and perfected her invention. It was now being used in large scale clinical trials but on a more personal note, she had married Eric 2 years ago and he was a great step-dad for Drew. They were all looking forward to adding a little sister to the mix in a few more weeks. "Hey, how're my boys?" She said coming out and seeing her husband and son together on the couch.  Eric got up and let Miranda sit down next to Drew. He wandered off to check laundry. "3 years ago today" Miranda said as she pushed her son's hair off his forehead. "I know. I thought about it the first thing when I woke up" Drew remarked with a big smile. He now had more adult teeth than baby ones, but still had a few more to lose. "Do you think about it a lot? Do you think about what it would be like if it hadn't happened?" Miranda asked. "Yeah. I think about it everyday but I wouldn't change it. If I think about it, I can still feel what it felt like when I changed" Drew answered.  "Me too. It felt really good" Miranda admitted and Drew smiled again. Miranda sat back, her belly, so big and round sat there and Drew put his hand on it and felt the movement. "Glad you're the one who's pregnant" "Glad you're the one playing sports" Miranda retorted.  They shared a look as Miranda put her feet up. Miranda saw Drew looking at them "We're in the right bodies" Drew said. "I know"
Literature
Soul Sisters: A FtF Bodyswap Story
"Hey Chelsea! Come here a sec" Laura Olson called out. "Hey…what's up?" Chelsea said coming into her older sister's room. "Oh God what is that?" She quickly added waving her hands in front of her nose. "It's incense and essential oils diffusing" Laura replied. The room was candle lit and big fluffy pillows sat around the floor. "What are you doing?" The 11 year old asked incredibly annoyed "And why do I have to be here?" Laura sighed heavily and dramatically "I want to try something out and I need you to be part of it. This is a two person thing…I need a partner" "You are so weird!" Chelsea said. "Just help me out sis!" Laura pleaded "I really think this is going to work and if it does, you're going to love it!" Chelsea saw something in her sister's eyes. A definite sincerity and a genuine desire for whatever she had in mind. "UUUGGGHHHH! Fine…whatever! What are we even doing?" Chelsea said coming into her older sister's room further. Laura closed the door behind her little sister, giggling excitedly. Laura eyed her sister up and down quickly "Yeah…perfect" she mumbled.  "Don't creep me out okay…I agreed to hear what you want but I can still walk out of here" Chelsea said full of tween attitude, folding her arms over her flat chest and tapping her foot. Laura was 22 and quite the hippie chicken free spirit while her 11 year old sister was much more traditional. Laura was 5'10 with long straight blonde hair. She was curvy in her build with large breasts and full hips. She was wearing jeans and a loose white top while barefoot. She sat down cross legged on the floor and pulled her hair back behind her ears. Laura patted the floor in front of her indicating that she wanted her sister to join her.  Chelsea grabbed a fluffy pillow to rest her back against and she sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as she sat. Chelsea was 5'4'' and a pure ginger. Dark red hair, pale freckled skin and blue eyes that matched Laura's. She had her hair in twin braids and was wearing a green long sleeved tee shirt, black leggings and white socks. "Have you ever heard of astral projection?" Laura asked. Chelsea furrowed her brow "Not really" she admitted. "Okay, well essentially it's an out of body experience. Where your consciousness leaves your physical body and can travel around" Laura explained as her hands gestured wildly. "I think I've figured out a way to do it…and I think I can get you to do it too" Chelsea started to get up but Laura grabbed her wrist. "Wait! Hear me out! It doesn't hurt! It feels so amazing! I think I did it but I want you to try with me to confirm that it's real! The worst that happens is that you waste a few minutes. The best is mind blowing and life changing experiences! Come on Chels! I need your help" Laura pleaded. Chelsea stared at her sister long and hard considering her choice. Laura pleaded "please,please,please" while holding her hand. "Fine…I'll do it. I'm bored anyway" Chelsea finally said, sending her older sister into overloaded joy. Laura drummed her feet happily and bounced. "This is so awesome!" She squealed  She poured tea for both of them as she played gentle music from her phone "The key now is to relax and concentrate on freeing yourself. Visualize your spirit leaving your body. Laura added a metronome and she began to talk softly. Chelsea did start to feel super relaxed. "Now look into my eyes" Laura instructed her sister. Chelsea did as she was told.  "You are relaxed. You are at peace" she kept repeating. "Close your eyes and let your spirit be free" she said and Chelsea did. With her sister peacefully out, now Laura's self hypnosis kicked in. She felt herself drifting off. Chelsea felt light; lighter than air. She heard her sister's voice calling out "Chelsea! Come on, you're so close! Come to my voice" Chelsea realized she couldn't move. She couldn't figure out how to move. In a panicked voice she cried out "I can't find you Laura!" "Relax! Breath in and out and listen for me" Laura started to hum calmly. Chelsea settled down. She almost lost it as she felt herself start to lift up. She was rising. She was floating.  Suddenly colors erupted. Light streamed in and she saw Laura's smiling face "Laura!" "Chelsea! It worked!" "This is amazing Laura! I feel so free!" Laura pointed down and Chelsea gasped. Below them, she saw the two of them sitting on the floor. Both of them looking peaceful and not moving "There's 2 of us!?!" Laura nodded "We're here as our spirit selves…free of our physical selves! We did it. We are in the astral plane" Chelsea lowered herself down to examine herself from an outside perspective. She looked over both of them and everything in the room. Feeling bold she floated through the ceiling and found herself in their kitchen. "We can go anywhere like this…it's like we're ghosts" "Yeah, kinda" Laura laughed. "I've got another idea and it might sound crazy but I hope you're willing to try it; it's the other reason I wanted you to help me out today" Laura baited. Chelsea was now curious "If this is possible I have to listen" "Well…I was wondering if you would want to see if we could switch bodies like this?" Chelsea was shocked and her face showed it. "Since we're free of our bodies, I think we should try to re enter each other. You go into my body and I'll go into yours. If you're willing to try it that is" Chelsea was shocked "is that even possible?" "When I did this before, I floated to my own body and when I got close I felt my spirit get pulled in. My theory is that if you go to my body and I go to yours, our bodies will pull in whatever spirit is closest and trying to enter" "So when I wake up…I'll be you?" "Yeah…it'll be your spirit in my body" Laura replied. "And you would be me?" Chelsea continued. Laura nodded "Yes…" "So I would be in your body and everyone would see me as you. I could drive! I could drink!" Chelsea said.  "Well mot together haha but yes. The world would see Laura Olson not knowing it's Chelsea Olson in that body" Chelsea nodded "Let's do it!" Laura squealed happily "Worst thing would be that we just don't get pulled in and then we go to our own bodies" Chelsea started to drop lower. "What's going on?" "You can only stay outside for so long before you have to return to a body…aim for mine!" "Okay!" Chelsea said, pointing her head towards her sister's prone figure. "Good luck! I'll see you on the other side. You'll be my big sister haha!" Laura called out. Laura watched in fascination as her sister's spirit swam closer and closer to her body sitting cross legged on the floor. Chelsea's spirit hovered momentarily then, was simply gone but Laura's body lurched and drew in a deep, gasping breath.  "Oh my God I think it worked!" Laura thought gleefully "I think she's in!" Laura flew towards her own body but it didn't feel the same as it had the time she had done this before. The last time, she had gotten close and she felt a pulling sensation. Now, she didn't feel anything like that. It was more like she had come to a closed door. Spirit Laura turned around and saw her little sister's body sitting there so peacefully. It was calling to her. She could feel the body searching for a soul.  Laura let go and felt her spirit being pulled toward Chelsea's body.  She made sure she kept her eyes open as she got closer and closer. Then, she was sucked forward and colors swirled all around her and she gasped for breath like coming up from being underwater.  Chelsea made her way toward her sister's body. She could feel a pull, the body searching and reaching almost blindly for the aura coming near. As she got closer, she felt a hyperfocus hit her. Every little detail of her sister's face and body became apparent just as she felt grabbed and yanked into her body. Colors swirled and she gasped for breath. She almost choked on it as she felt air hit her lungs. She felt her heart pound. Blood rushing to her temples all accompanied by a high pitched whistle. Then, it was quiet.  Chelsea took in a slow, deep breath. She smelled the incense and it tickled her nose. But, something also felt very different. She felt heavy. She felt big. Bigger than normal. Bigger than she should be. Taking in another breath and holding it, she felt an undeniable weight on her chest. Just taking inventory of her body made her aware that her ass felt larger, everything felt too big; like she was wearing a pair of shoes that were several sizes too large. Chelsea's eyes fluttered. They didn't want to open. Her hands shook but slowly, her muscles began to respond. She felt her chest heaved and her shoulders lift as her eyes finally opened.  Chelsea's heart took off pounding in her chest upon opening her eyes. Chelsea's brain overloaded and she froze. She was staring at herself. Not a mirror. Her actual body was in front of her. Breathing and just starting to stir. Laura felt cramped and tight. It felt like she was wearing a wetsuit and shoes that were 3 sizes too small.  She felt light though, smaller too. Her brain kicked in "Of course! You're inside Chelsea's body! We actually did it!" She tried to quickly gain control of her body "Chelsea must be freaking out" Laura's muscles twitched. Her eyes fluttered. Senses and sensations started to come to her like the fact that she knew her hair was in twin braids lying on her shoulders. Her heart was pounding in joy and anticipation. Her eyes fluttered and her mouth twitched as Laura managed to gain control of her facilities. Chelsea stared straight ahead watching her body twitch and start to move around. She jerked when she saw her eyes open. "Chelsea?!" Laura cried out loudly in a higher pitched voice Chelsea's mouth quivered, she looked to be on the verge of tears but now she nodded and weakly croaked out "Laura?" Laura nodded and smiled wildly "We did it sis! Look at us! This is abso fricking lutely amazing! I'm in your body and you're in mine!"  Laura's arms and legs weren't fully cooperating yet as she tried to unfold herself clumsily kicking and lurching until she made it to her knees and managed to hobble forward to hug her little sister inside her body. Chelsea was freaked out. She was getting a hug from herself. Her skinny self was hugging her while she heard her own familiar voice whispering calming words. "We'll stay like this just long enough to recover then we can do it again and swap back okay…but it takes a few days for the spirit to rejuvenate enough to go through the journey again" Chelsea nodded feeling better. She was calming herself down and she now wrapped her arms around her sister and leaned into the hug "This feels so off…I'm soft and you're all bony and skinny" "Um you're also now 10 years older than me too!" Laura pointed out to her sister. Laura broke away and stood up, stretching out her back and legs as she rose up. "God this is so weird!" Chelsea said, seeing herself at that angle. Laura just laughed at her. Chelsea looked down "Oh God! I've got boobs!" She giggled nervously and blushing. Laura put her hand out and helped Chelsea to her feet. Both were surprised by their new dynamics.  Laura was weaker. Chelsea was heavier and had to mostly get herself up off the ground. Chelsea's face finally showed joy as she rose up higher and taller; 6 full inches taller than her sister in her little kid body. Chelsea saw how mature and developed she was and a bit of pride swelled in her. Those shoes didn't feel so loose now. Laura's heart skipped a beat seeing Chelsea tower over her. She realized a power shift had inadvertently occurred between them.  For as long as they were like this, in each other's bodies, Chelsea would be seen as being in charge. Maybe she would even begin to act and think more like the body said she should. Laura shivered. She didn't feel as tight and cramped all of a sudden. The body seemed to fit her better. Chelsea patted her body down to get a better look and feel for it "Wow…" she muttered embarrassing her sister even further. Laura went to.the mirror in response. "Sure…I might be smaller and younger. I have absolutely no curves like this but; I love this red hair. The eyebrows…freckles…" Her stomach fluttered. "This face..this body…" she thought, still seeing her sister posing in her body behind her. The two sisters went downstairs for dinner. They could barely contain their laughter dealing with their parents, knowing their personal inside joke. The next several days, the two lived each other's life. Chelsea went to college. She drove, she worked, she hung out with her sister's friends.  Laura went to middle school. She went to soccer practice and was dependent on others for rides when she wanted to hang out with Chelsea's, now her, friends. Each day felt more natural to them. They grew more in tune with their new dynamics and body. They even got into role play with each other. Both played up their new position much to the delight of both of them. After a week, they got together in Laura's room. They set up everything like the first time and sipped their tea trying to meditate and relax. They even wore the same clothes to try to make sure everything was right. Laura was talking but it wasn't working so Chelsea took over and both of them started to relax more and more.  "The key now is to relax and concentrate on freeing yourself. Visualize your spirit leaving your body. Chelsea set up a metronome and she began to talk softly. Laura did start to feel super relaxed. "Now look into my eyes" Chelsea instructed her sister. Laura did as she was told.  "You are relaxed. You are at peace" she kept repeating. "Close your eyes and let your spirit be free" she said and Laura did. Chelsea was shocked. She has taken the lead. She had put her sister out, not the other way around. But now she needed to concentrate on herself. She focused and was soon dropping off. She felt her spirit become free. Laura felt her spirit rising up. She looked down to see herself emerging from the top of her crown of red hair. "Those twin braids…" she thought wistfully "I do love that look" Something seemed different to her already. Her spirit didn't feel the same. She couldn't comprehend or explain how her soul could feel differently but it did. She looked at her original body. She saw the shoulders slump and the head droop. Laura was shocked to see her sister's spirit emerge. She knew what was wrong but she had no explanation for it. Frankly, she was absolutely shocked. Chelsea felt her spirit rising to break the bonds of the physical plane. The colors swirled but as she began to focus, she wanted to scream out in confusion. She saw her sister Laura hovering, but Laura's spirit now looked like her. Laura's spirit was now 11 years old with no curves, red hair done in twin braids with pale freckled skin. A quick look at the shock on Laura confirmed that she was just as surprised as Chelsea was. Chelsea immediately looked at her own lifting spirit. She didn't have to look far to see the blonde hair flowing. She had her sister's curvaceous body even in spirit form.now. Their spirits had adjusted over the course of the week and had turned into a match for the body they had possessed. "Chelsea?!?" Laura asked  "Laura?!?" Chelsea responded "What happened to us?!" "We changed! Our, our spirits…they adjusted to conform to the body. Living each other's life changed the spirit to fit it" Laura said. "But if we go back to our original body, then it should reverse right?" Chelsea asked. "Yeah…" Laura replied "Why wouldn't it? Once I'm back in my body, I'm sure my spirit will adjust back to my real body and yours will too" Chelsea nodded, satisfied with the explanation "This is actually really cool though" she admitted "I mean…what if. What if we really did become each other?" Laura couldn't suppress her smile. If spirits could blush, hers would be. "I know right! I mean, it wouldn't be that bad" "Oh really?!" Chelsea prodded her big sister "You would be okay with being my little redheaded sister forever?" "I liked having your hair!" Laura said defensively. "Well I liked having your body…especially being your height" Chelsea said. "And my age?" "Of course…who wouldn't want to be 22 instead of 11?!" Chelsea shot back just as she felt her spirit start to droop. "Oh! It's time…time to go home…" Laura said with a knowing look. Chelsea gave a nod and lined her bigger spirit up over her small body. Laura flew to her original body "I feel so small looking at myself from this size spirit. I guess I've gotten used to being small this week" "See you on the other side" Chelsea said as she felt her spirit being tugged into her body. "One last shout out to my former big sister" Laura said, feeling the strong pull of her body on her spirit. They entered simultaneously. Both feeling the confusion washed over them. The grasping and gasping as they reconnected to their body. Chelsea felt squished, cramped and compacted into her small body while Laura felt like she was swimming inside hers. They both jerked and twitched. Their eyes fluttered open. Chelsea immediately crunched forward moaning "Dang this little body is so tight!" Laura looked uncertain, a little fearful and lost "Well mine feels way too big" Laura grit her teeth as she felt a full-body shudder run over her. When she stopped moving, everything looked a little different than it had. The room looked…bigger. Her sister, sitting cross legged across from her looked…her head looked higher up. Laura looked down. Her white top was naturally loose but it looked and felt roomier somehow. Chelsea was straining. Her body felt tense, like a coiled spring. She shuddered "Ohmygod" she muttered at the feeling of release that accompanied her shiver. Laura had been looking at her sister's calves. The black leggings there were sitting at the top of her white socks. As she watched, the leggings pulled up exposing a ring of skin. "My body doesn't feel as tight but dang my clothes do" Chelsea remarked.  She put her arms out and sure enough, her sleeves were tight on her arms and the cuffs of her long sleeves were well back from her wrists. Laura was shaky and unsteady getting to her feet. Her jeans felt loose as she stood. Chelsea was also getting up. She felt disoriented and even a bit dizzy. Laura gasped.  Chelsea jumped. They both looked shocked. They were the same height. Laura took a cautious step closer, standing up straight. Chelsea straightened up in response; sure enough, they were eye to eye.  "What the…?" Chelsea said dreamily.  Laura just furrowed her brow and looked very concerned. Both of them felt it. They shared a look and both shivered again, losing sight of the other as they shook. "AAAAAAHHHHH!" Laura screamed as her focus returned and she found herself 6 inches shorter than her sister. "AAAAAHHHH!" Chelsea jumped and answered her sister's scream with one of her own "Whyareyousoshort?!" She rushed out. "Whyareyousotall?! Laura immediately replied. Their eyes widened. "Our Spirits!" They yelled in unison. Laura's blonde hair began to redden. Brightening up as it changed color, she turned to the mirror in time to.see her eyebrows change from blonde to red as freckles began popping out all over her face. "Ohmygod! Instead of our spirits changing back, they're making our bodies change to match them!" Laura said. Chelsea's jaw dropped. Her hair was still in braids but she could see in.her peripheral vision that they were lightening to be blonde. "I guess you really are going to be my little sister" she said to Laura's shock. Laura's nose shrank down and her lips thinned as the years drained away, taking maturity from her face; she was looking like a kid in her small features. Her chin weakened, her jawline softened and her cheeks lost definition and rounded as even her ears got smaller. Chelsea now leaned down to get her face closer to her sister's. Her mouth hung slightly open as her facial features began to change into Laura's.  Her nose grew larger along with her eyes. Her skin cleared up, no more freckles as her ears grew out. Her lips plumped as her face matured. Her eyebrows lightened from red to blonde to match her hair. Her jaw and cheekbones became more prominent as did her chin as she now had the face of a young woman instead of a pre-teen. They turned and faced each other with matching expressions of awe. Chelsea's chest began to grow as Laura's shrank away. Chelsea's shirt was already tight by her growth spurt but now, it really became uncomfortable as it strained down her suddenly large breasts. She had to get it off. She lifted the tight tee and her massive breasts spilled forward giving her now flat sister quite an eyeful. Chelsea's breasts swayed as she struggled getting the very small, very tight tee off her growing body. She let out a sigh of relief once freed and she tossed her shirt aside and stood top less for the time being. Laura was suddenly self-conscious of her prepubescent body. Her flat chest. Her now useless bra and way too large top hung on her. She could feel the heat coming off Chelsea's chest, they were so close to each other. Laura's arms and hands now quivered as they shrank down and she watched Chelsea's take on her characteristics as her arms and hands and her exposed stomach all changed. Laura felt a quiver shake her hips and ass as they suddenly narrowed and sucked inward. Her jeans didn't stand a chance and they simply dropped to the floor. Laura yelped as they fell and she did a little awkward shuffle, bringing her legs together as her thighs slimmed way down. Every curve was leaving her body as it regressed from 22 to 11. Skinny coltish legs shakily stepped free of her jeans. Her feet were too big and stood out, but not for long as she felt them shudder and they began to shrink backwards, getting smaller, changing into Chelsea's tiny feet. Chelsea's leggings were now put to the test. As her hips and ass grew, her small panties were sucked up in between her growing cheeks. The leggings pulled skin tight as her thighs grew and her calves thickened. She stepped on the ends of her socks, pulling them off and freeing her feet just as they began to grow. They spread out as they widened and her toes plumped outward. Looking down, both of them watched their feet change in tandem Laura's feet were shrinking as Chelsea's grew. Their toes changing shape from one to the other. With a slight bounce and bump as their heels and the soles of their feet swapped, they realized that they had switched bodies with each other. "Chelsea?" Laura said in a soft, shaky voice. "Laura?" Chelsea replied, a bit more lift in her voice. She chuckled nervously and patted her huge breasts "Holy shit…these are real. They're really real and they're mine" Laura grabbed for her hair. She pulled on it, feeling the tug as she pinched the red strands between her small fingers. Laura looked back to the mirror and seeing that face reflected back, she smiled, genuinely happy to see it. "Maybe our souls knew…they just knew. That's why they changed and then…they made it complete" Chelsea nodded and smiled "Pretty smart way to think about it little sis" Laura's jaw dropped in mock shock "Little sister?!" "Well…you are!" Chelsea said, looking down her nose at Laura. "Are you going to cover those things up?" Laura sighed. "Give me your shirt and bra and yes I will" "We're not your room! You could literally walk 3 feet to your dresser and get out a new bra!" Laura ranted. Chelsea just shrugged "I want those" "You already got those" she pointed at her big sister's large chest before flapping her empty bra and huge shirt. They both laughed but Laura pulled her clothes off and ran out of the room. When she returned, she was dressed in clothes that fit her skinny, little kid body. Chelsea had also gotten dressed in the clothes that Laura had so hastily discarded. "This feels so right" she told her little sister. "I absolutely agree" Laura replied.
Literature
Speculative Story - 3: The Swap
Something was knocking loudly on my bedroom door. I tried to move my head to answer, but I was exhausted as though I’d been woken far too early. ‘Hmm, go away,’ I mumbled into the bed sheets. The knocking continued, getting louder and louder, someone was shouting something now as well. ‘Please, just go away,’ the headache wouldn’t even let me open my eyes, it was so bright. The knocking stopped and I thanked God. But then something started slamming into the door, and I heard wood splintering. ‘Oh God,’ I swung myself up as best as I could, fearing some intruder had broken into my house. I looked around at a barely familiar room and then the door burst open, and I fell through it. I watched myself stand up, gasping and panting for breath. There was a big rip down the side of my pyjamas where they’d caught on the broken door coming through. She looked at me with confusion and I slowly raised my hands to my eyes. My fingernails were painted black. I turned them over, I saw the scars
Suggested Collections
Comments1
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Comment hidden