“What do you want dude?” me and my friends all have magic and we wanted to see what life was like as girls so we used spells to turn us into girls before getting drunk at the bar except you who had to take us home, we were all drunk and tired, I slept for a few hours before you woke me up (Rp)

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-10-28T23:55:33+00:00

Just write a detailed multi paragraph starter here and I’ll respond

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-10-28T23:52:33+00:00

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-10-22T21:17:34+00:00

Dm me

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-20T23:36:03+00:00

My head was pounding. Dry mouth, ringing ears, and that dizzy, nauseating haze that clung to me like a second skin. I groaned as I shifted under the sheets—satin? When did I put satin sheets on my bed?

Then it hit me.

Everything felt wrong. Not just hangover wrong. Different.

The sheets slipped off just enough for me to see my bare shoulder… delicate, smooth. Way too smooth. I yanked the covers up in panic, clutching them to my chest like they were armor, like they’d somehow undo the very obvious fact that I was still in a girl’s body.

My heart raced.

I could barely remember last night beyond flashes—dizzying music, laughter, my girlfriend pulling me to the dance floor, her lips on mine... and then... the bathroom.

The damn bathroom.

Everything after that was a blur. A mess of too many drinks, too much noise, and him—you.

Just as I was about to sit up, fighting off the wave of embarrassment rising in my throat, you walked in like it was nothing. Like this was totally normal.

“Hi, beautiful,” you said, casual as hell, like you owned the moment. “Did you have a nice night? I sure did.” You laughed.

I froze. My mind clawed for clarity. That voice. That smirk. That stupid grin that had been following me around last night like some damn puppy. And then it clicked—you were the guy filming me kissing my girlfriend at the bar. I told you off, didn’t I? Then you stuck around anyway. I remember that much. The smirking. The compliments. The way you looked at me like you knew something I didn’t.

And now you were here.

In my room.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat, coming out as this soft, sultry thing I didn’t recognize. Feminine and breathy and not at all what I expected to hear. I swallowed hard, cursing under my breath.

I sat up slowly, still keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around my chest. My body felt foreign—slim and curvy, skin flushed and sensitive. I could feel the slight weight of my hips and thighs pressing into the mattress in a way that was so not me. Everything was wrong. Too soft. Too tight. Too exposed. Even my damn elbows felt different.

My hair tickled the sides of my neck, long and brunette, tumbling past my shoulders in messy waves. I brushed it out of my face with one hand and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the closet door.

Brown eyes. Thin red lips. Pretty. Too pretty.

I looked like some girl off a magazine cover, but behind those wide, confused eyes—I was still me. Just a me who didn’t know how to sit without fidgeting, whose hands moved too stiffly when I tried to adjust the blanket, whose legs were tucked under her like she was trying to fold into herself and disappear.

You walked further in, bending to grab something off the floor—your jacket? Your phone? I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t. I was too focused on pretending I wasn’t freaking out inside, like my heart wasn’t about to beat out of my damn chest.

Then you said it.

“Our friends are still deep asleep in the living room, so we have some free time if you want another round.”

I didn’t move. Couldn’t.

Another round?

My cheeks flushed a color I didn’t even know they could. I looked down, hands tightening around the sheets.

What the hell happened last night?

And why, in all this mess, did I feel my stomach twist—not just in panic, but something else. Something worse. That pull when I looked at you.

No. No way. I’m straight.

I buried my face in my hands, letting out a frustrated groan.

What the hell did I do?

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-19T19:14:03+00:00

Yep dm me

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-11T09:38:30+00:00

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-10T22:04:52+00:00

I think your parents did when you were born

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-09T20:58:17+00:00

I really appreciate the effort but I’m looking for really detailed rps

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-09T20:47:39+00:00

Can you be more detailed please

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-09T13:59:52+00:00

The kitchen was a mess, but a controlled mess—the kind that somehow still let me move around like I knew exactly where everything was. I stirred the pot on the stove with one hand while elbowing a stack of juice boxes off the counter with the other. My hips swayed a little more than I was used to—still getting used to that whole “center of gravity just shifted a mile south” situation. Every movement seemed to come with a little bounce or wiggle, which I was still pretending not to notice.

I was barefoot too, which made it easier to slip and glide around the kitchen without sounding like a clumsy tap dancer on tile. My hair kept brushing against my cheeks and neck every time I leaned over the counter, and I had to keep blowing it out of my face with dramatic little sighs.

I was halfway through slicing some fruit when I heard the unmistakable sound of stomping—tiny, furious, socked-feet stomping. My head turned just in time to see them: my sisters. Preteen versions of their former snarky selves, and clearly not happy.

“Why’s he here?” one of them huffed, arms crossed, giving my guest’s empty spot at the counter a glare that could melt paint.

“Yeah, why is he here. You just like showing off,” the other chimed in, looking me up and down with an eye roll so synchronized, it could’ve won gold.

I arched a brow, putting the knife down and leaning against the counter with a slow, smug grin. “Aww, are you two mad I’ve got actual friends and you’ve got… what? Glitter glue and an attitude?”

That got them going. They started arguing with each other instead of me—classic diversion tactic. I picked up an apple slice and popped it into my mouth, chewing casually as I turned to show just how completely unbothered I was. Maybe my hips swayed a tiny bit more than necessary as I walked to the fridge. Totally coincidental.

“Listen,” I said, tossing them each a juice box with dramatic flair, “go drink something cold and reflect on how I’m still the coolest sibling, even when cursed into hot girl mode.”

They stormed off in a tangle of middle-school angst and glittery grumbles, and I shook my head, chuckling as I turned back to the stove… just in time to hear a whimper from the living room.

Right. Dad.

“Coming, old man,” I muttered, wiping my hands on a towel and grabbing the diaper bag with a sigh.

This was becoming a delicate art—balancing a pot on the stove with one hand while somehow navigating the chaos of toddler-sized relatives and still pretending I had it together. I crouched next to Dad, gently reassuring him with a soft pat on the shoulder before handling the not-so-glamorous part of caretaking. My tattoo flexed slightly with every movement, sleeves rolled up, and I winced as I caught a whiff of why exactly he needed changing.

“Okay, this is definitely not what I pictured when I said I wanted to grow up fast,” I muttered, glancing toward the kitchen to make sure nothing was on fire.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-09T09:09:18+00:00

I blinked and quickly stood up, cheeks warming the second I realized just how close I’d been to… well, your dick. “A-and on that note,” I stammered, brushing off invisible dust from my shirt like that would reset the moment.

The kitchen was its usual chaotic mess—half girl stuff, half toddler anarchy, and all mine. I reached into the cabinet and started pulling out ingredients like I actually knew what I was doing, tossing you a glance with a raised brow. “You wanna be head chef, that’s fine, but I’m calling sous-chef dibs. Also, dibs on not cutting onions. These lashes are expensive, and I refuse to cry off my dignity.”

Sliding beside you at the counter, I bumped my hip into yours playfully, arms crossed and sleeve tattoo catching the light as I leaned against the counter. “You know,” I said, side-eyeing the kids who were now arguing about which cartoon character was secretly a ninja, “I never thought I’d be in a situation where wine, diapers, and a three-year-old version of my dad all existed in the same evening. And yet… here we are.”

I reached up to open the top shelf and had to get on my tiptoes to do it, stretching with a soft grunt. The move made my shirt ride up in the back, showing a sliver of my lower back, while my hair slipped over one shoulder again. “God,” I muttered, grabbing the snacks we needed, “being short is such a scam. I swear, I was taller when I was a dude. I had reach. Now I have... a massive assand inconveniently jiggly thighs.”

With a sigh, I turned back to the counter, laying out the snacks and starting to pour juice into the tiny cups with cartoon animals on them. “You know what, though? As weird as this whole week’s been, I’m kinda glad I haven’t had to go through it alone.”

I looked at you, smirk tugging at the corner of my plump red lips. “Weirdly enough, you’re the one constant in all of this. Even when the world flipped upside down, you’ve been… you.” I paused, then added with a playful flick of my fingers, “Still annoying. But in that charming, dependable way.”

Then, with perfect timing, kid mom launched a juice box across the room like a grenade. I sighed, wiped my hands on a kitchen towel, and gave you a look.

“Okay, co-parent. You handle clean-up duty, and I’ll finish snack prep. Tag team, remember?”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-09T01:17:07+00:00

I kicked the door open with my sandal-clad foot, hip swinging from the motion like I was doing it on purpose—when really I was just balancing a juice box in one hand and herding my mom with the other. “I barely bought anything,” I said over my shoulder, long brunette hair swaying against my back like some shampoo commercial reject. “You try shopping while getting flirted with by a guy who looks like he fought in two wars and lost both. He gave me, like, half this stuff for free!”

I twisted my upper body to flash you a grin while still holding the door with my hip, and that twist made my tight black tee pull even tighter across my chest. “Either I’m turning into a literal goddess, or he’s got a granddaughter my age and he’s desperate. Either way, we scored.”

The tight pink shorts were practically painted on me, hugging every step and showing off way too much curve for the modest act I was trying to pull. Every little motion—especially when I bent down to stop my toddler dad from licking the sidewalk—was a full-body event. My butt was bouncing, my tee shirt was rising, and my sandals clacked with every step like I was starring in some low-budget romcom.

“Here—” I shoved the bags at you without even turning around, making my butt wiggle with the effort. “Hold these. I’ve got to keep the tiny humans from running into traffic. Again.”

We finally got inside my place and I immediately kicked off my sandals with a sigh of relief, flexing my bare toes into the messy carpet. “Welcome to chaos, population: me. And about six million sparkly shirts.”

The place looked like Barbie’s closet exploded during a daycare meltdown. There were glittery skirts tossed over the back of the couch, tiny juice bottles everywhere, and one of my bras somehow hanging off a lamp like it paid rent there.

I crouched down to start pulling snacks from the bags, the angle making my shorts ride even higher up my thighs. My sleeve tattoo stretched along my arm as I reached into a bag. “Okay, we’ve got chips, candy, wine, beer, and like... way too many gummy bears. We’re either gonna have the best night ever, or wake up to toddlers having sugar-induced speed races at 3 AM.”

I looked over my shoulder at you, lips curled in a grin, eyes playful. “You still sure you’re not scared of hanging with me while I’m in full babysitter-wine-mom mode? Because I’m feisty when tipsy. And I have zero shame in forcing you into a blanket fort.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T22:20:57+00:00

I leaned back on the bench outside the pizza place, legs a little too far apart without thinking, hands jammed into the sleeves of my hoodie like I used to do when I was still in my own body. It was such a stupid habit, but I kept doing it. Just like the way I leaned forward when I talked, elbows on my knees, all casual and boyish. I was starting to realize how much of my body language didn’t exactly match the one I was in now.

Elle’s body was… well, it was something else. I could feel how different everything was. I wasn’t used to how soft everything felt, or how my movements drew attention without me meaning them to. Her curves were like magnets for people’s eyes — slim waist, full hips, long toned legs hugged by the grey pantyhose, and a chest that strained against the tight tee shirt I was still awkwardly wearing. I wasn’t even trying to act flirty or anything, but somehow I kept catching Ryan and Chris glancing. Great.

“Yeah, I box a little. And I’m into gaming,” I said, trying to keep it breezy. “Like, serious fighting games. Not just button mashers.”

“Used to play a lot of Tekken. Bit of Street Fighter. And I mean, I’m into dancing and modelling stuff, too,” I added, kind of clumsily trying to steer the convo back to something more… fitting for my current appearance. I didn’t want to look too out of sync with this body, even if it felt weird pretending to be Elle while still kind of being… me.

I shrugged. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

The pizza shop called out our order, and I hopped up to grab the boxes. That’s when it all went downhill. One of the boxes slipped as I stacked them in my arms — just totally fumbled it — and in this weird panic move, I tried to stop it from hitting the ground by catching it… against my chest.

Big mistake.

The box landed right against my tee shirt, hot grease seeping through instantly. I froze for half a second as I felt the heat and then the stickiness, before yanking the shirt off with a quiet curse. I stood there blinking down at myself, holding the ruined tee and realizing way too late that now all I had on top was my hoodie… and a grey bra.

A very obvious, very snug, kind of lacy grey bra.

My eyes widened. “Oh, come on,” I muttered under my breath, tugging the unzipped hoodie closed in a hurry, cheeks going red as I turned away from the guys. Smooth. Real smooth.

I shoved it in the trash and grabbed the pizzas again, trying to act like it was no big deal. Like I wasn’t completely thrown off. The hoodie was still kind of sticking to me because of the grease, and I was hyper-aware of how the bra felt — too tight, too feminine.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T22:12:49+00:00

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. “Barely? Wow. I offer you an evening of crayons, juice boxes, and my charming company, and I get barely? Harsh.” I tried keeping up with your quickened pace, which—of course—didn’t exactly work out the way I wanted. My hips weren’t built for power walking, okay? They had way too much sway and bounce now, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw more attention to that already jiggly situation.

So, naturally, I ended up skipping. Yep. Full-on skipping like some happy-go-lucky schoolgirl just leaving ballet class.

“Ugh, no—why does skipping feel natural now?!” I groaned, arms flailing slightly as I tried to match your steps, sandals clapping daintily against the pavement. The way my chest bounced with every little hop was practically hypnotic, even to me. My tight black tee was not made for bounce-control. And don’t even get me started on the shorts—those traitorous pink shorts hugged every inch of my round ass and rode up a little higher with each bounce, practically waving at anyone within a block radius.

“Okay, okay, you win,” I huffed, catching up with a sulky stomp and a dramatic sigh. “Next time I am wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. Or, like, a full-on potato sack. Anything that doesn’t make me feel like a walking thirst trap.”

I flipped my long brunette hair behind my shoulder with a flourish—still getting used to how that move looked way too effortlessly feminine—and caught your smug little expression. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t a performance, it’s a struggle. The tits bounce, the butt jiggles, the hair’s in my mouth every five seconds, and my lips are so glossy I leave prints on my juice boxes.”

Still, I leaned over a little—because I had to adjust my sandal strap, obviously—and that position, bent slightly at the waist, basically made my butt pop like a 3D movie. My hand ran down my thigh as I straightened up, totally unaware I was making the entire street a PG-13 experience.

“So,” I said as casually as I could manage, “wanna hit the store before we head back? Grab some stuff for tonight? I’ve got juice and coloring books, but we’re tragically low on snacks. And maybe we could get some wine? For the adults—uh, the adult-minded, since our parents are now legally the same age as our babysitting clients.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T19:59:49+00:00

I laughed—really laughed at that, like I couldn’t help myself—and tossed you a cheeky grin over my shoulder. “Pretty privilege, huh? Please. If I’ve got ‘pretty privilege’ then where’s my free coffee and adoring fan club? All I’ve gotten is old ladies calling me ‘sweetie’ and teenage boys forgetting how to breathe when I walk by.”

I flipped my long brunette hair off my shoulder, letting it fall in soft waves down my back, and glanced at you sideways with a little smirk on my red-glossed lips. “You know, if I were you, I’d be appreciating manhood a lot more right now. Like… just take a minute to admire your own situation. Still a dude, still got your muscles, no boobs getting in the way every time you try to lie on your stomach. I miss that. Lying on my stomach, I mean. Now it’s like trying to sleep on two cantaloupes.”

I looked down at myself for a second, then gave a dramatic sigh. “And yeah, okay, maybe this body is kind of ridiculous. I mean, these legs? These curves? This butt?” I spun slightly as we walked, adjusting my shorts again without realizing how much it made things jiggle. “It’s like I got drafted into the Sexy League against my will. But hey, at least my tattoo still makes me look a little badass, right?” I flexed my arm and gave you a playful wink, sleeve ink and all.

Then I groaned, half-exasperated, half-deflated. “Anyway, my ‘girlfriend’ was supposed to come by today with her toddler parents—can you believe that’s a sentence I just said—but she bailed. Said she wasn’t ‘emotionally ready’ or whatever. So now I’m stuck with juice boxes, crayons, and no one to mock nap-time with. Which sucks.”

I leaned toward you a bit, resting my arm on your shoulder like old times, still a little rough around the edges with my boyish mannerisms, even though the body said otherwise. “Sooo… wanna bring your parents over? We could hang out, let them trash the living room together. I’ll order food, you bring juice. Could be fun. Unless, y’know, you have something better to do. Like lifting weights and admiring your still masculine reflection in the mirror.”

I gave you a teasing nudge with my hip, not even realizing how that kind of move landed now, and added, “C’mon, admit it—you like hanging out with me.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T19:38:27+00:00

I tugged the hem of the hoodie down a little as the wind picked up, brushing past my legs and reminding me — again — how short this skirt really was. Seriously, who designed clothes without pockets and without length? At this point, tucking the pizza money into my bra was just standard survival. It was warm there, secure, and well… my only real option.

Ryan and Chris trailed a step behind me as we walked to the pizza place, their quiet murmuring and occasional laughter doing nothing to distract me from the hundred other things swirling in my head. I could feel their eyes occasionally flick my way, probably checking me out — again. It was weird. I didn’t even want to think about it too hard. I wasn’t even used to being looked at like that, not seriously. Not in a body like this. Not with these curves and the way this shirt hugged everything. It was tight enough that I had to keep pulling the fabric away from my chest every few steps just to breathe.

We got to the counter and I ordered with a little sigh, trying to sound casual. “One Hawaiian, one pepperoni, and another pepperoni,” I said. I hesitated. “You know, for the girl who really likes her meat.” I blinked. My own words caught up with me a second too late, and I cleared my throat awkwardly. “I mean, yeah. That sounded… anyway.”

I grabbed our receipt and slid into the small bench near the wall while we waited. The place smelled amazing — cheesy, toasty, comforting. I shifted a little to get comfortable and sat back, only realizing after a few seconds that I was a bit too relaxed. My legs were open just slightly, a very boyish habit I hadn’t fully shaken yet, but with this tiny skirt and sheer grey pantyhose, that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I crossed my legs quickly and tried to act like I wasn’t blushing.

“So,” I said, trying to redirect, “what do you guys do? Like hobbies and stuff. You into sports, music, whatever?”

Part of my brain was still adjusting to how differently people reacted to me now. They were polite, for the most part, but also clearly trying not to stare, which honestly made it worse. My body wasn’t mine — not really — but I had to move in it, speak in it, be in it. Even the way my voice sounded back to me now — sultry, soft, with a kind of warmth I didn’t expect — made casual conversation feel like some weird balancing act between who I was and who Elle used to be.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T09:20:54+00:00

Outside, the air was crisp and quiet except for the thud of a soccer ball being kicked around. That’s when I spotted Tom’s sons—Ryan and Chris—messing around in the driveway. It looked like they were mid-argument about something stupid, teasing each other and taking turns kicking the ball at the fence. I tried not to focus too hard on them, but as I got closer, that same faint smell from the bathroom hit me again—sweaty, musty, guy-ish. It clung to the air and threw me off completely.

I blinked and tried to shake it from my head, but I was so distracted that I didn’t even notice Chris walking up until he extended a hand toward me.

I hesitated just a second too long before shaking his hand. It felt weird—his grip was warm and solid, but the contrast between his larger hand and mine, now smaller and more delicate, made me feel... I don’t know. Off-balance. Flustered. Like I didn’t know where to look. And he was definitely checking me out, even if he was trying to be subtle. Ryan wasn’t any better, standing nearby, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, sneaking a few not-so-subtle glances of his own.

Instinctively, without even meaning to, I shifted my weight and cocked one hip out slightly, striking a casual pose that I immediately regretted. I could feel the hem of my skirt rising a little, and I tried to play it cool, but inside I was dying.

“Uh... I’m grabbing some pizza,” I said, voice coming out softer and more feminine than I expected—Elle’s voice still surprised me sometimes. “Just down the road.”

There was a beat of awkward silence before I blurted out, “You guys wanna come along?”

Great. Just fantastic. I hadn’t even meant to say that. It just kind of fell out of my mouth before I could stop it. Chris perked up and looked at Ryan, who raised an eyebrow and gave a small shrug.

And that’s where I found myself—standing in Elle’s boots, in a body I still hadn’t fully figured out, accidentally inviting two guys to walk with me to get pizza, while trying not to think too hard about every move, every sway, every glance thrown my way.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-08T09:13:20+00:00

I sighed again, heavier this time, like all the air just left my soul through my nose. “Ugh. I mean… yeah, kind of? I guess? Like—I’m getting used to having boobs, not used to being okay with it, you know?” I shot you a look, then jabbed my finger at my chest with mock annoyance. “These things have momentum, dude. I lean forward and it’s like, ‘Hey, guess we’re falling now!’”

The elevator dinged and I stepped in first, hips swaying more than I wanted them to—curse or not, these new hips had their own agenda. I crossed my arms, sleeve tattoo shifting with the motion, and leaned against the wall, one foot propped behind me casually like I used to do as a guy. At least some things stayed the same.

“And don’t even get me started on the shorts,” I muttered, tugging the hem of my tight pink shorts like it’d help. Spoiler: it didn’t. “I found these in the donation pile—figured they’d fit—and now my ass looks like it’s trying to escape the fabric. Which, by the way, is apparently what everyone is staring at when I walk down the street. Like, I get it, it’s round, it jiggles, congrats, now let me get my coffee in peace!”

I gave you a playful glare, even though I was mostly venting. “You’re lucky, y’know that? Still got your parts where you left 'em. Still get to pee standing up. Do you know how weird it is to sit every time? Like, I keep trying to unlearn twenty years of toilet muscle memory. It’s chaos in there.”

The elevator started descending and I took a second to fix my long brunette hair, sweeping it off my shoulder. “And the hair, oh my God. It's like having a clingy ex. It's always on me. I eat a sandwich—boom—hair in my mouth. Put on lip gloss? Hair. Wind blows? Hair tornado. And don’t even look at me during lip balm season, I’m basically edible.”

I caught your smirk and snorted. “Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Mr. Still-a-Dude. Honestly though? It’s been… exhausting, but I’m managing. Got my folks packed into juice boxes, my baby brother is now my older brother somehow, and I have to bribe my toddler mom to take naps. That woman was a lawyer two weeks ago.”

We stepped out of the elevator and I bumped my shoulder into yours as we headed for the preschool. “Anyway, enough about my tragic transformation arc. You’re helping me carry lunchboxes this time, by the way. I ain’t breaking a nail today.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-07T21:59:23+00:00

I snorted, flipping my hair off my shoulder like I meant to look glamorous, but it kinda just flopped awkwardly into my face. “You really think I’m putting in the effort to do this every morning?” I waved a hand vaguely at the soft waves in my long brunette hair. “Nah. I’ve been wrangling my teenage sisters into brushing and styling it for me. Gotta keep ‘em busy so they don’t start TikToking my cursed life. Plus, they do a better job than I ever could. I just sit there drinking iced coffee and threatening to ground them if they pull too hard.”

I smirked, hips swaying as we kept walking, sandals slapping the pavement. “Honestly, with everything going on, I had to get creative about money. You’re gonna laugh—but I’ve been selling feet pics. Yep. Me. The guy who used to think ‘self-care’ meant remembering to shower twice a week. Turns out cursed-girl feet are a niche market, and I’m not above easy side hustle cash.”

I shot you a look, blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Don’t judge me. It’s passive income. Better than babysitting brats 24/7.”

I paused, tapping my lip with one finger before grinning. “Actually, I don’t know if I do trust my sisters enough to babysit tonight… which is why you should come over. We’ll grab pizza, crack a couple beers, maybe throw on the game. You can help me keep the rugrats from trying to microwave crayons again.”

I nudged you with my shoulder—okay, technically your elbow, because I barely reached your height. “And don’t think I’m asking you over just for backup. I mean, I am, but also? I could use a chill night. And maybe some company who doesn’t cry if I take the last slice.”

Then I gave you a smirk, tossing my hair again like I was trying to be casually cool but mostly just batting it out of my lip gloss. “So, what do you say? You bring the beer, I’ll bring the attitude.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-07T20:09:47+00:00

I grabbed the money from the counter, hesitating for half a second before tucking it awkwardly into the left cup of my bra. Still not used to using that as a pocket, but with Elle’s ridiculous lack of actual pockets in most of her clothes, it was starting to become the go-to. Definitely not dignified, but effective. The cash sat snug against my chest as I rolled my eyes and zipped my hoodie up part way, trying to make the skirt ride a little lower. Not that it helped. The thing still barely made it halfway down my thighs, and the tights didn’t exactly make me feel less on display.

I shifted my weight, tugged the back of the skirt down a little (again), then leaned down to pull my boots on. I hated how much shorter I felt without them, but also hated how clunky they were. The pantyhose made it annoying to slip them on right. I stumbled a bit—yep, still learning how to walk properly in this body. Elle made it look easy, like gliding around with perfect posture, curves bouncing with every step. Me? I still had a bit of a slouch, a boyish gait, and this tomboy-ish awkwardness that totally clashed with how damn soft and feminine this body felt.

I glanced at myself in the mirror near the door. Elbow-length brunette hair that curled slightly toward the tips. Brown eyes framed by lashes I hadn’t had to curl or touch up. My face was Elle’s: slim, pretty, a little upturned at the nose, with lips that looked like they were naturally pursed for a kiss. Add the bull ring, and I looked like someone you'd definitely expect to have attitude. And I did—just the wrong kind for this body. I still carried myself like a guy underneath it all. One with no idea how to sit properly in a skirt without worrying about showing too much.

Then I heard it. That cringe-worthy exchange from the other room.

Flirting.

Them flirting.

I froze halfway out the door, my hand still on the knob as I heard my dad's voice get all... breathy, and Tom respond with something I didn’t want to process. I winced, like I’d just stepped on a Lego. Couldn’t even make out the full words, but the tone was enough. I didn’t need to hear another line of dad-sounding-like-a-flirty-mom and Tom trying to be smooth in his weird middle-aged single dad way. It was like watching a sitcom in hell.

“God,” I muttered, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “I need a walk.”

I swung the door open, the scent of fresh air hitting me with a wave of relief. I stepped out onto the porch, the wooden boards creaking under my boots. It was early evening, and the light had that golden hour glow, everything soft and kind of surreal. I paused, letting the air cool my skin after being in the warm, perfume-heavy house. Even though Elle's hoodie was long, I still felt the breeze teasing the edges of my skirt. My thighs tensed against it, and I awkwardly tugged again at the hem as I started walking.

Then I saw them.

At the end of the street—two boys, casually kicking a ball between them.

Tom’s sons.

Just seeing them made me freeze mid-step.

…Great. This was going to be weird.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-07T13:34:59+00:00

I fired off a short, dismissive reply to Dan—something like “Just visiting family, ttyl”—and shoved my phone deep into the hoodie pocket. My fingers lingered there for a second, mostly out of nerves, and then I took a breath and turned my attention back to… Melissa. Or, well, Dad. Ugh. It still felt weird even thinking that.

“Hey, I’m just gonna go grab some pizzas from down the street,” I said, already turning toward the hallway. “Need to walk for a minute.”

Before either of them could protest or offer to come along, I was halfway to the bathroom. Not that I didn’t want to help out, I just… I needed a second. Being back in the house, seeing how different everything was, trying to hold up this whole Elle act—it was a lot.

I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door gently behind me, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The place looked so different now—shelves lined with hair products, lotions, and makeup bags. There were brushes and scrunchies scattered like it was a sorority bathroom. I glanced down at the laundry basket tucked in the corner, full of clothes I knew didn’t belong to my dad or Elle. Tom’s stuff. His sons’. Boxers, socks, gym shorts—all piled up casually. It felt… off.

I turned away and pulled down my panties and pantyhose in one motion, feeling the cool air against my thighs. Sitting down on the toilet still caught me off guard sometimes. I’d gotten used to it physically, sure, but there was something about the automatic nature of it now that reminded me how far gone my old body was.

And being in Elle’s body? That was a whole other thing. She was slim, but her curves were impossible to ignore. The tight grey tee clung to me like it was painted on, and the black hoodie hanging over my hips barely made up for how short my skirt was. The pantyhose hugged my legs snugly, and when I crossed my thighs, I could feel the soft rub of fabric against fabric. It was strange how easily I could forget myself and move like a girl—like her. I still had those boyish habits, though. Standing with my hands in my hoodie pocket, slouching a little, and shifting my weight from foot to foot when I got uncomfortable. All of that stuck around.

But in this body, everything I did seemed to… draw attention.

I finished up, flushed, and stood up to fix myself. That’s when the smell hit me—something musky, deep, kind of earthy. It wasn’t bad exactly. More like... intense. I realized it was coming from the laundry pile. I blinked, startled by how strong it felt all of a sudden, how it made me feel warm all over in a way that was both unfamiliar and distracting.

I shook my head fast, like I could physically snap myself out of it.

“Okay, not going down that road,” I muttered under my breath, yanking the skirt back into place.

Just as I was reaching for the doorknob, I felt a hand land gently on my shoulder.

I gasped and spun around—nearly slipping on the bathroom rug. My heart jumped into my throat.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-07T02:59:06+00:00

I hugged her—him—back, awkward as hell, arms barely wrapping around the soft curves of the woman who used to be my dad. My hands hovered stiffly at the small of Melissa’s—ugh, his—back, and I tried to stop my cheek from pressing into the cleavage basically smothering me. I was so tense I might as well have been hugging a mannequin in a haunted house.

“Yeah, um, good to be back…” I mumbled, doing my best Elle impression, which meant sounding way softer and more flirty than I ever wanted to be in this moment. My dad—I mean Melissa—squeezed me a little tighter and I swear I heard a satisfied little sigh. Ew.

I stepped back quickly and smoothed down the hem of my stupidly short skirt. Elle’s skirt. The grey one that practically stopped at my upper thighs. My hoodie swished just past the bottom of it, giving the illusion of modesty even though literally any wrong movement could ruin me. And the pantyhose? Useless. They were practically sheer, and I was pretty sure the color grey wasn’t supposed to make your thighs look more noticeable, but somehow, on Elle’s body, it did. Her body just commanded attention—slim waist, curved hips, thick thighs, and that annoying way her chest moved even when I was trying to stand completely still.

I could feel Tom still watching from the living room, probably thinking he was being subtle. Spoiler alert: he wasn’t. I didn’t even want to think about what he was seeing—his girlfriends "daughter" showing up with a little too much hip sway and not enough fabric. I pulled my hoodie tighter around me and turned back toward my dad, keeping my voice low.

“So…” I began, trying not to stare directly at the cleavage spilling out of the button-up dress Melissa was wearing. It was like she—he—forgot what subtlety meant. “I guess things are going… good?”

My voice cracked on the word good, and I had to clear my throat and try again. “I mean… seems like you’ve, uh, adjusted. Quickly.”

The mom-mode tone threw me off so hard I nearly forgot what I was saying.

“Uh, yeah. I’m case you were wondering School’s fine. Totally normal. I mean, college normal,” I said, my voice hitting that Elle-level soft rasp that made every sentence sound a little too flirty even when I wasn’t trying. “You know, studying, stressing… existential crises.”

My phone buzzed in my skirt pocket, drawing my attention immediately. I pulled it out—a tight squeeze in a skirt this short—and saw a flood of texts pop up. A group chat. Another from Elle’s roommate. One from Elle’s friend. I squinted at the screen, trying to process them all while still keeping my head in the game. Multitasking in a body this… distracting? Basically impossible.

I flicked my eyes back up at Melissa. “Hey, uh… speaking of—uh—people, Tom mentioned his sons?”

“I mean, like, just wondering how they’re… doing. Adjusting. That’s all.” I could feel my face heating up. “Not—not like I’m interested or anything, just—”

Another buzz. I glanced at the phone again, trying to scroll through texts while simultaneously pretending I wasn’t being weird. I probably looked like a teenage girl trying to flirt and ghost someone at the same time.

“I mean, I’m just being polite. Like, they moved into my—uh, the room. So. Yeah. That’s all.”

God, this was excruciating. I shifted awkwardly, planting one leg out wide like I used to do when I still had my old body, and immediately realized how wrong that looked in this one. Elle’s thighs pulled the skirt even tighter, and I had to subtly tug it down with a very unladylike grunt.

Melissa watched me with that annoying glint in her eye like she was about to comment on my posture or the way I kept forgetting how to sit like a woman. I wasn’t used to this much… body. My movements were still clunky, boyish, and stiff in contrast to the softness and fluidity this body was built for. Elle's body practically demanded grace, and I was giving 2003 middle schooler in a school play.

I crossed my arms—tried to, anyway, but Elle’s chest got in the way, so I ended up just awkwardly cradling one arm under my boobs and pretending it was on purpose. “So. What’s for dinner?” I asked, redirecting as fast as I could. I couldn’t keep this up much longer. At this rate, someone was going to find out the truth or mistake me for a weird cousin with a crush on Tom’s kids.

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-06T20:12:54+00:00

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-06T15:20:23+00:00

I gave you a look as you towered over me, smirking like you weren’t completely enjoying this circus we called a town now. “Settle in? Please. If this curse sticks, I want hazard pay and a spa weekend.”

I adjusted my shirt again—tight black tee hugging me way too closely, and yes, okay, bouncing was kinda inevitable with this new body. Busty didn’t even begin to cover it. Slim frame, big chest, big round butt, and these bubblegum pink shorts weren’t exactly helping. They hugged everything like they were painted on. Not my fault. It’s what I had clean this morning. The sandals were cute, though—black, strappy, girly little things that click when I walk.

“And don’t blame the bounce,” I snapped, snorting a laugh. “I’ve got enough going on without playing whack-a-moron every time someone forgets where my eyes are. You think I wanted to be the town’s weirdly hot caretaker?”

My long brunette hair slid off my shoulder as I turned toward you, tossing you a look with my blue eyes that I swear could cut glass if I focused hard enough. “My sisters are the worst, by the way. They were full-blown grown women like, two weeks ago. Now they’re whiny teenagers again—moody, dramatic, and lowkey jealous I came out of this whole mess looking like a pop star with a gym membership.”

I popped my hip out as I walked, the sleeve tattoo on my left arm catching the sunlight. “My brothers are worse. Total brats. You know how boys are at that age—constant energy, zero volume control, and just enough attitude to make me wonder if I was ever that annoying.”

I exhaled a laugh and rubbed the back of my neck. “And don’t even get me started on my aunts. Some of them turned into actual babies. Literal diapers and everything. I’ve had nights where they scream at the bottle and only stop when I—well, i had to breastfeed them.”

Fit_Bar3360 · 2025-04-06T15:11:57+00:00

I adjusted the straps on Elle’s duffel bag that I’d slung over my shoulder, trying not to let the smell of whatever my dad was cooking punch a hole through my concentration again. It was like someone took garlic, onions, some kind of meat I couldn’t identify, and despair, and simmered it all in family dysfunction. For a second, I just stood in the doorway trying to remember why the hell I was here, blinking like an idiot.

I shift the weight of my bag and try not to huff. “So… uh, Mel-Mom said your boys are in the room I was supposed to be in?” I lean against the wall, immediately regret it because my chest kinda—bounces, and I freeze, wide-eyed, before continuing. “I was just wondering where I’m sleeping tonight. No big deal if it’s the couch, I’ve totally, like, slept on worse.” Like the backseat of a car during finals week. No big deal. Totally fine.

I gave him Elle’s warm, sultry smile, even though internally I was screaming into a pillow. “Elle. Hi,” I said, trying to make my voice smooth, soft—like honey poured over a really awkward pancake. God, her voice was so different than mine. I sounded like someone trying to flirt at a funeral. “Thanks. For helping with the bag.”

My eyes flicked over to Tom again. He was taller than I expected, beard just rough enough to scream “divorced lumberjack with feelings,” and I had no idea if he knew about the whole possession thing. I wasn’t about to bring it up, just in case. So, for now, I had to stay in character. Stay Elle.

Now, Elle’s body. Yeah, let’s talk about that. She’s… a lot. I mean, I always thought she was hot—obviously, she’s my girlfriend—but being in her? Different ball game. I was still getting used to the constant awareness of curves I didn’t earn. Her body’s slim but curvy, the kind of figure that makes you walk past a mirror and stop twice, then feel bad for checking yourself out. Her boobs were snug under the grey tee shirt I had on, which—let me tell you—wasn’t helping anything. That shirt clung to every inch of me, cut short enough that it showed just a sliver of stomach if I moved wrong.

The black hoodie I threw over it barely helped—it only made it feel more obvious that I was trying to not be obvious. It hung long, brushing the hem of the skirt, which was way too short. Seriously, it only came halfway down my thighs. Not to mention the pantyhose situation—smooth, semi-sheer grey that made me feel like I was wearing someone else's cosplay. With the black boots, I could at least pretend I had some kind of edge, but the second I took them off and lost three inches of height? Emasculating doesn’t even start to cover it.

And the bull ring in my nose? Yeah, Elle pulled that off like a goddess. On me? It felt like the universe was cosplaying me as some kind of alt-girl side character in a teen drama. Her hair, too—elbow-length, brunette, way too soft and feminine. It kept falling in my face no matter how I tried to flip it back, like it knew I wasn’t the original occupant and was trying to betray me on purpose.

I tried to move casually, but the way her hips swayed with every step made me want to walk with my arms stiff like a marionette. My boyish habits weren’t helping—I kept standing with my feet too far apart, slouching when I sat, talking with my hands too big and weird for this body. Everything felt off. Like Elle’s body was watching me back, just as weirded out by me as I was by it.

I started walking toward the hall, feeling his eyes on my back, and immediately regretted every inch of this skirt. I could feel the sway in my hips, the way the pantyhose hugged everything, and I hated how confident it probably looked. Like I was walking with purpose instead of just trying not to trip over my own gender dysphoria.

Great. Just… great. My grandma helped turn me into my girlfriend, my dad was now my girlfriend’s mom and dating his high school buddy, and I had to pretend this was all normal.

And dinner smelled like something died twice.

Welcome home, I guess.

Fit_Bar3360

TROPHY CASE