Swapped and Trapped

Body swap fiction

[swappedandtrapped]

Hey, I'm starting this page to give an outlet to some things. I like writing swapping fiction with people who end up stuck or unable to swap back. I try not to fall into writing stereotypes, but I'm just a man. Let me know if you think I did so I can change for the better.

The photos are usually AI, but I write whatever is posted here with some help from Google Translate (English, what a weird language).

[swappedandtrapped]

You Chose Him Yourself

Text by me. Images by AIs.

It was just another evening at the end of a long day.

After a routine day at the office and a quick visit to the gym, I found myself falling back into my usual patterns. I lay on my second-hand sofa, staring blankly at the TV, watching whatever the algorithm recommended in that moment. This time, it had selected some kind of reality show, couples, eliminations, the usual drama. Without a second thought, I reached for my phone and opened Grindr.

It was a nervous habit, something to fill the mental silence while the TV hummed white noise in the background.

I swiped through the grid of men in my area, studying their photos with a mixture of longing and envy. I wanted to believe I was putting in enough effort at the gym, that I was eating well, and that I was taking care of my body. But after a few flicks of my finger, I couldn't help but compare my scrawny frame to the muscular physiques on the screen.

A third episode started playing automatically when I heard the familiar notification chime from the app. I immediately assumed it was a bot or a guy marketing a new party, but to my surprise, the message looked… genuine.

He was a bit older than my usual type, but he clearly took care of himself. His main photo showed him in a baseball cap, shirtless on a beach—likely a vacation with an ex, judging by how the image was cropped. His other photos seemed legitimate: a business suit, a selfie in an elevator. He looked like a real person.

"Hey, stud," his message said. Another followed immediately: "I'm gonna guess you're as bored as I am."

I chuckled and sent back a nod emoji.

We chatted for a while until he suggested I come over. I hesitated slightly but agreed. He seemed worth the effort of getting dressed and leaving the house.

Later that same hour, I walked into his apartment building. Polished marble panels decorated the lobby, accented by designer chairs and a security guard at the front desk. The person living here clearly had no financial struggles. I took the elevator up to the penultimate floor, found his door, and knocked.

Suddenly, an unexpected rush of anxiety hit me. My body commanded me to run back to the elevator. For a moment, I feared my instincts knew something I didn’t, but I ignored the premonition.

The door opened to reveal a tall figure in the entryway.

"Eric?" I asked cautiously. He resembled the guy from the photos, but I wanted to be sure. "Yeah, hey," the figure said in a deep voice. "Come on in."

As he closed the door, I took in the space. Just as I’d suspected, money was no object. There was designer furniture, an enormous TV, and several statues and paintings that looked priceless.

"Oh, sorry, I must've made a mistake," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "I clearly took a wrong turn and ended up at the city museum instead of your apartment." "What? Oh," he smiled. "One of my obsessions. I try not to go overboard, but as you can see, I fail." I laughed, and the atmosphere cleared.

After he offered me a drink, we sat in the living room and talked much longer than I expected. I had assumed the "dispelling boredom" line was a euphemism for a hookup, but we simply kept talking for the rest of the evening.

I learned he was a plastic surgeon for celebrities, and he hinted at some big names who had passed through his clinic. He discussed his hobbies as a card magician and his interest in other party tricks. He was a very conversational guy.

In turn, I told him a little about my life. My dull office job, the highs and lows of my studies, and what it was like growing up in a small town. Eric expressed genuine interest throughout the conversation.

Eventually, the conversation turned to body image within the community.

"What are you talking about? You're a total stud," he said, attempting to flatter me. I laughed and replied, "Thanks, but it never feels that way." "What do you mean?" he asked, sounding surprised. "You can see the absolute truth every time you look in the mirror!" I sighed. "Tell that to all the guys on Grindr who disappear the moment I send a photo." He ignored my comment. "It's just a matter of self-perception." "No, it's not. If I were big enough, it would be so much easier for me." "You really think that?" "I really do."

A brief silence settled between us until Eric spoke again, a suggestion forming.

"I have an idea." "I'm listening." "What if I hypnotize you?" "What?" "I love this stuff, street magician tricks and illusions. I’ve been learning it now that I have more free time." "Haha, very funny," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm serious!"

I looked at him skeptically. "Even if it worked, which it probably won't, how would hypnosis help me?" "It would improve your self-worth," he answered enthusiastically. "Even if it doesn't help on Grindr, at least you won't feel so awful. Let me try. What have you got to lose?" Not much, I thought, though I felt a flicker of fear about what he might do while I was under.

"I can't make you do anything," he added, as if reading my mind. "Hypnosis can't force you to do anything you don't truly want to do." Oh, right. I forgot it wasn't like the movies. "Okay, fine. But if it doesn't work, you're opening another bottle for me," I laughed. "Deal." He shook my hand playfully.

Eric directed me to an armchair. I kicked off my Adidas and settled in, enjoying the texture of the fabric.

"Okay, I need you to relax. Close your eyes and give yourself permission to let go." "Yes, doctor," I joked, but I complied. I trusted him enough to let myself surrender to the experience. "Alright. Now that you're comfortable, listen to my voice…"

Eric continued, and I slowly drifted out of consciousness.

----

I woke to the sharp snap of his fingers.

Dazed, I opened my eyes and realized I was no longer in the luxury apartment. It was hard to see as the daylight blinded me, but I realized I was in some kind of cheap motel room.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Eric said, standing by the door. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Try not to freak out too much." Before I could speak, he stepped out and slammed the door, locking it behind him.

I tried to process my surroundings, but my thoughts and senses were sluggish. I was groggy, sinking into the fog that had settled in my brain.

How did I get here? What time was it? Was this a dream? Was I still hypnotized, or had he drugged me?

Many questions ran through my mind, but only when I managed to shake off the grogginess did I see what was really going on.

The heaviness wasn't just in my mind. My limbs felt heavy as lead. My body… if it was even my body… felt foreign, a massive and unfamiliar weight.

The chair creaked beneath me. I stared at my arms, thick and roped with muscle, covered in coarse, dark hair I'd never seen before.Panic surged.

What the hell is happening?

I struggled to stand. I had to find a mirror, to find a way out! But when I finally managed to get out of the chair, I lost my balance and had to lean against the wall. Steadying myself, I realized my perspective had shifted. Had I somehow grown taller? Why was my head almost scraping the ceiling?

Heart pounding, I reached the bathroom and shrieked in terror. Who is this person in the mirror!? Is that me!? It can't be!

In the mirror, a stranger stared back, a mountain of a man, over two meters tall, a hulking creature of muscle and mass. I reached out a trembling hand to feel the coarse stubble on his face.

My horror deepened as I studied the features of this unfamiliar person. His brown eyes were not mine, his black hair was not mine, his flattened nose and crooked teeth were not mine. My face was gone. My identity was gone.

Everything felt wrong. I struggled to remain stable on legs as thick as hairy tree trunks. And no wonder I couldn't. With these new giant feet walking was a procedure I wasn't ready to handle.

I was about to check beneath my waistband when the sound of the lock turning cut me off. Eric stepped back inside.

"So, what do you think?" he asked with a toothy grin. I stared at him in horror. "What—" I stopped, jolted by the gravelly voice that erupted from my throat. "What did you do to me!?" "Exactly what you asked for. It came out great, didn't it?"

"There is no way in the world I asked for this. How did this even happen!? Are you… Is this real? Did you hypnotize me into thinking I look like this?" "Absolutely not. What you're seeing now, all 150 perfect kilos of it, is you and only you." "Perfect!?" "Don't pretend. You chose him yourself." "What!?"

Eric chuckled and took my hand, leading me out of the bathroom. "Come with me." My hand looked enormous in his. I could have covered his entire face with it. He sat me back in the chair and took a seat opposite me.

"Looks like I worked you a little too well. Let me explain."

"When you came over and we got to know each other, I felt like I saw something beyond just a cute guy. I saw untapped potential in you. So much pain, so much unnecessary shame. I realized I could change a life, and I decided to do it."

"By what right do you think you can just change someone's life!?"

"Not 'just like that,' I promise. After you fell under hypnosis, we had a long conversation. You told me how much you longed for a different body. You told me about your swapping fantasies. Fate brought you to me, the man who could make them a reality."

A deep anxiety washed over me. He couldn't have known those things unless I’d said them. He was telling the truth.

"So I got to work. I kept you under prolonged hypnosis to ensure you remained focused on the plan. You've been here for the past few months while I made that fantasy a reality."

"Months!?"

"First, I wanted to understand exactly what the ideal body you wanted looked like. We went through hundreds of photos of men until you found the one whose body would make you feel whole. Not a bad choice, honestly."

"This. Is. Not. Ideal!" I roared in that new, heavy voice. "I would never choose this!"

"Shhh," he hushed me. "Let me finish." As if by magic, my throat tightened, and I couldn't make a sound.

"It was a long and complex process. I'm very proud of the work that was done here." "We started with the general body structure. I put you on a bulking diet along with a workout plan you adhered to for six months. Of course, that wasn't enough for such a drastic change, so I also included fat injections, testosterone supplements, and a few other professional secrets."

He smiled, beaming with pride.

"In parallel, I performed limb-lengthening surgeries to reach this new height. The right height for you. When we got down to details, I worked with a variety of different techniques. Dermabrasion to match the skin, hair transplants all over the body, various facial surgeries, comprehensive dental work, and actually even an implant of most of your facial organs."

My heart hammered against my new enormous ribs. This man was a maniac.

"Now, to ensure this isn't just a superficial change, I asked a favor of a friend who helped me edit your genome. All with your consent, of course. No matter how much time passes, you will continue to look exactly like this. As a bonus, your fingerprints and DNA will now identify you as this man, not the person you were."

I couldn't speak, but the tears flooding my face said enough. He had turned me into a different person. A creature.

"Oh, right, you're free to talk." Eric said snapping his fingers, but I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. Instead, I looked again at this new body, my new body. As we talked, a layer of cold sweat had accumulated. I smelled it. A stale odor. My smell.

I swallowed in anxiety and was horrified again when I realized that it wasn't even my saliva anymore, but that of the huge creature I was trapped in.

Eric broke the silence. "Seriously, nothing to say?"

I looked up at him, shaking with rage and grief. "You son of a bitch."

Eric began to respond, but I cut him off. "You're a psycho. Only an insane person would do this. You stole my identity! I'm someone else!" "Well, that's what we wanted, wasn't it?" "You! You wanted it! If I said something like that when you hypnotized me, it's only because I was under your control!" "You know very well I can't force you to do what you don't want."

"I. Don't. Want. This!"

I surged to my feet, accidentally knocking over a table lamp. I was startled by my own strength. I’d barely felt the impact. But I saw the flash of fear on Eric’s face. I was bigger than him. Stronger. I was a threat.

"I don't care how," I growled, "but you're changing me back!"

"As I explained, you can't turn back the clock. Your genome has been altered. We didn't back up your old bio-data."

"I don't care!" I screamed, pulling back a fist to strike him. But Eric snapped his fingers again.

"Okay, enough of this nonsense." The snap froze me in my tracks, forcing me back into a state of involuntary relaxation. "Listen to me, and listen well," he commanded. I nodded submissively against my will. "You aren't in a position to give orders. I can keep you in this state as long as I like. I could wake you up when you're eighty and wrinkled."

"Yes," I answered submissively.

"But I'm not a bad person. I have no interest in being your babysitter. On the other hand, I can't just let you go. It’s only a matter of time before you convince someone of your old identity and lead them back to me."

Eric paced the room, mumbling options to himself. And me… all I could do was continue to stand in that same relaxed position and pray he would release me.

After a few minutes, Eric returned to sit across from me and began to reprogram me.

"Alright, this is what's going to happen now. In a few minutes, I will release you, but before that, I want you to go into a deep trance. The deepest trance you've ever been in. A thousand times deeper than all the previous times combined."

My eyes rolled back, a wave of relaxation washed over me.

"From now on, your name is Erez. You're going to forget your previous name. It's no longer important. From now on, you are Erez. I am going to give you a new identity. Erez doesn't work in an office. Erez is a hard-working bartender at a gay bar by night and a handyman by day. Erez loves working on his enormous physique. Erez didn't finish high school. Erez hates the TV. Erez uses the word 'bro' way too much. Erez…"

And Eric continued like this, getting carried away into the new reality he was weaving for me.

"Now that you know who you are, let's discuss the past. You will never speak of me or what you've been through. If you try, you'll find yourself drifting to another topic, pulled back into Erez's identity. And just for my own amusement, I want you to understand that beneath the surface, the original 'you' will always be there—watching, unable to stop yourself from acting like Erez. I want you to know what it's like to be someone else, just like you wanted."

A snapping sound woke me up again. This time, I found myself on a city street at night.

My feet ached. He probably made me walk a lot so I couldn't find his place again.

I looked at them. I could still feel the difference from my old height. I was wearing size 13 boots and dirty blue jeans.

I pulled an old phone and a wallet out of my pocket. Inside was an ID card belonging to Erez. Mine.

I took a deep breath, wanting to scream in horror. But instead, my body betrays me and-

"Bro."

-------

Thank you for reading. Hopefully the next one will come out before 2027 😪

I wish I could write faster, but this is just my pace.

[swappedandtrapped]

Your story’s are the best on whole tumblr!!

Please! I need more of them 🥺

👨🏻↔️👨🏻

❤️❤️❤️

Soon...

[swappedandtrapped]

A short test I did. I thought you might enjoy it.

I wonder how far are we from making swapping films ourselves. But I think there's a magic quality to just "plain" text stories that I don't want to give up.

[swappedandtrapped]

Swapping Research - Part 3

Read part 1 here Read part 2 here

"Fix this." Marcus's voice—Tyler's voice—cracked as he grabbed Alex's shoulders. "Whatever you did, undo it. Now."

Alex stepped back, her face tight with conflict. "It's not that simple. The quantum entanglement that facilitates the transfer has been modified. Tyler asked me to—"

"Show me!" Marcus pointed toward her computer. "Show me exactly what you changed. Now!"

"I can explain," Tyler said, the familiar features of Marcus's face contorted with unfamiliar desperation. "You still have a body, a life. I'm not taking everything."

"Not everything?" Marcus laughed bitterly. "Just my future. My medical school. My brain."

"My procedure wasn't designed for permanent transfer," Alex said quietly, pulling up complex neural mapping on her monitor. "But Tyler convinced me the research value was—"

"Research value?" Marcus stared at her. "You're using us as lab rats?"

Alex's shoulders slumped. "You don't understand. My brother Michael, after his car accident… He's trapped in a body that doesn't work while his mind is intact. This technology could help thousands like him."

"So you used us."

"I used the opportunity," she corrected. "And Tyler was—"

"Show me what you changed," Marcus demanded again.

Alex pulled up a complex neural diagram. "The initial transfer created quantum entanglement between your neural signatures. For temporary transfer, the entanglement naturally degrades. For extended transfer…" She pointed to a modified segment. "I stabilized the entanglement and introduced a selective degradation algorithm that reinforces Tyler's signature in your original brain."

"And destroyed the original components of the device," Tyler added quietly.

Both Alex and Marcus turned their heads to Tyler. Marcus felt the floor drop beneath him. "You what?"

Alex interjected. "This isn't what we talked about Tyler. What the hell?"

"I can't go back," Tyler said, voice breaking. "You don't know what it's like, Marcus. For the first time in my life, I can think without fighting my own brain. I read an entire textbook yesterday. Just sat and read it, front to back, and understood everything." His eyes, Marcus's eyes, gleamed with tears. "Do you know what that feels like? To be smart after a lifetime of drowning?"

"And I'm supposed to live in your body? With your basketball scholarship I can't maintain? With your father constantly on your back?" Marcus's hands shook with rage. "My medical school interview is Monday!"

"I'll nail it," Tyler said. "I've been studying your notes, practicing with your flash cards. This brain, your brain, it remembers everything. First try."

"It's my future!" Marcus grabbed a nearby monitor and hurled it against the wall. The unfamiliar strength of Tyler's arms sent it crashing with far more force than intended. "My life! My parents' sacrifices!"

Alex stepped back, eyes wide. "Marcus, please—"

"My parents immigrated with nothing. Worked double shifts for my education." The words came out in a roar, Tyler's voice filling the small lab. "And you're stealing everything they worked for!"

"You get to be athletic, popular," Tyler countered. "People respect you now. They listen when you talk."

"I don't want that! I want MY life!" Marcus swept his arm across a desk, sending equipment clattering. The physical release felt alarmingly good in Tyler's body, the raw strength an outlet for his despair.

"Marcus, stop!" Alex moved between him and the equipment. "Violence isn't going to solve this."

"What will, then? Tyler destroyed the components." The fight drained from him suddenly, replaced by hollow despair. "I'm trapped."

"Not trapped," Tyler said. "Just… different. I can help you navigate my life, the basketball—"

"Stop talking." Marcus sat heavily. "Monday is the Kellerman interview. The program that's accepted three students in five years. The entire reason I—" He stopped, overcome. "My parents are flying in to celebrate after. They think it's guaranteed."

Tyler's expression changed, a subtle shift in Marcus's features. For a moment, something like guilt crossed his face. He looked away. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I didn't have a choice."

"You had a choice," Marcus whispered. "You just made the selfish one."

---

One month later, Marcus sat on the bench during a crucial conference game, his knee wrapped tightly, watching his team lose without him. His Coach had benched him after weeks of declining performance.

"Reeves, what the hell happened to you?" Barrett had demanded after Marcus missed yet another defensive assignment. "It's like you forgot how to play over summer."

How could Marcus explain that muscle memory wasn't enough? That Tyler's instincts were fading while his own analytical approach couldn't compensate? That each day, his connection to his original life slipped further away?

His phone vibrated. Tyler, checking in with artificial cheer, maintaining the pretense that this was temporary, a research extension: Got the med school acceptance letter today. Your parents are ecstatic. Your mom cried.

Marcus pocketed the phone without responding. Tyler called less frequently now, their conversations strained. What was there to say? "Thanks for maintaining my GPA while I lose your scholarship"? "Enjoying my parents' pride while yours threatens to disown me"?

---

After the game, Marcus returned to Tyler's apartment—his apartment now—and stared at the anatomy textbook he'd been trying to study. The words blurred and swam, his new brain struggling with the complex terminology that once came naturally. Trapped in Tyler's dyslexic patterns, he couldn't retain the information that had once been effortless.

Worse than the academic loss was the sense of his own identity dissolving. He'd catch himself using more of Tyler's phrases, laughing at more jokes he wouldn't have understood before, responding to Tyler's name without hesitation. His memories of childhood felt increasingly distant, replaced by physical memories embedded in this body, how to execute a perfect jump shot, how to charm a date with a specific smile, how to deflect a father's cutting criticism.

He couldn't remember his mother's birthday last week. He'd forgotten the Mandarin phrases his grandmother had taught him.

Even in his dreams, he was Tyler now.

He tried reciting the bones of the hand, his old calming ritual. "Trapezoid, trapezium…" The third bone eluded him. Had it been lunate? Hamate? The anatomical terms that once ordered his anxious mind were slipping away.

His phone rang again. Tyler.

"Hey," Marcus answered, too exhausted for anger.

"Just checking in." Tyler's voice was careful, controlled. "Alex wants more data on our adaptation progress."

"Tell her my adaptation is going great," Marcus said bitterly. "I'm failing Kinesiology despite living in a athlete's body. Forgot my own mother's birthday. Can't read more than ten pages without the words scrambling."

Silence stretched between them.

"I never meant—" Tyler began.

"Yes, you did," Marcus cut him off. "You saw a chance and took it. I just never thought you'd sacrifice my future for yours."

"I was drowning," Tyler whispered. "Every day."

"And now I am." Marcus stared at the basketball on his living room floor. "Congratulations on med school. My parents must be thrilled."

"They are." The quiet pride in Tyler's voice, using Marcus's voice, was unbearable. "Your dad called me 'son' yesterday."

Something broke inside Marcus. "Don't call again," he said. "We're not researching anymore. We're not friends. You're living my life, and I'm disappearing into yours. Just… let me fade away in peace."

He ended the call and picked up the anatomy textbook again, staring at meaningless symbols on the page. He tried once more to remember the bones of the hand, a final desperate attempt to hold onto the person he had been.

But the stranger in his head had already taken up residence, and Marcus Chen was gradually becoming a memory that even he couldn't fully recall.

[swappedandtrapped]

Swapping Research - Part 2

Read part 1 here Read part 3 here

The first shower was the worst. Marcus stood frozen in Tyler's bathroom, avoiding the mirror, peeling off unfamiliar workout clothes from an unfamiliar sweaty body. The smell, a mix of cheap deodorant and Tyler's sweat, was inescapable. He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he stepped under the water, trying to ignore the strange dimensions of his new form. Longer legs, broader shoulders, muscles that shifted differently beneath the skin.

Impossible not to touch, though. Impossible not to feel. Every movement reminded him he was piloting someone else's flesh. Soaping Tyler's body almost felt like touching someone else with all that thick hair and unfamiliar mass.

After, he studied Tyler's face in the mirror (the slight chip in the front tooth, the stubble that grew…). He tried a smile and flinched at how wrong it looked, how the expressions didn't match the musculature.

He wanted to believe that from looking behind Tyler's eyes you could still tell it was Marcus in the pilot seat. But those eye resembled nothing other than Tyler's Brown eyes.

His phone, Tyler's phone, buzzed with notifications. Basketball practice in an hour. A text from someone named Jas with just a winky face. Three missed calls from "Dad."

"Shit," Marcus muttered, the curse sounding natural in Tyler's voice. His own parents emailed weekly for updates. Tyler's father seemed to be calling multiple times daily.

The phone rang again. Dad.

"Hey," Marcus answered cautiously.

"You watch the Gonzaga vid I sent? Their defense has that weak spot on the baseline when they double-team. You need to exploit that tomorrow."

"Uh, yeah. I saw that."

"Don't 'uh yeah' me. This is your future, Tyler. Those scouts won't come back if you play like you did last time."

Marcus held the phone away from his ear, understanding blooming about Tyler's desperate academic measures.

"I'll work on it," Marcus said.

A heavy sigh. "Just don't throw away everything we've built."

---

In Organic Chemistry, Marcus was caught off-guard when he saw Tyler sitting at his desk. Realizing what he needs to do, he sat at Tyler's assigned desk, hyperaware of how differently people treated this body. Girls smiled, guys nodded in recognition. The professor barely glanced at him. The invisibility Marcus had as a serious student was replaced by a strange social spotlight that felt simultaneously flattering and exhausting.

The professor started the exam. Marcus began working through complex molecular mechanisms with ease. Tyler's hand felt clumsy gripping the pencil, but the knowledge remained intact, for now. He finished early and noticed people glancing at him with surprise.

Outside after the test, a teammate clapped him on the shoulder. "Yo, Reeves, we're grabbing lunch before practice. You coming?"

The old Marcus would have declined, retreated to the library. But something in Tyler's body responded differently. A pull toward social connection, a need for movement and interaction rather than quiet study.

"Yeah," he heard himself say. "I'll come."

---

Later on, Tyler sat in Marcus's Advanced Physiology class, experiencing an entirely different reality. For the first time in his life, the professor's words didn't scramble in his mind. He took notes, each letter staying exactly where he placed it on the page. He raised his hand to answer questions, the information flowing effortlessly.

The professor stopped him after class. "Excellent contributions today, Marcus. That connection was insightful."

Tyler felt a rush of pleasure he never knew he could have. "Thank you, sir."

In the library afterward, Tyler opened Marcus's planner and studied the color-coded schedule. Med school interview prep sessions. Study blocks. A family video call on Sunday. He ran his fingers over the neat handwriting, experiencing the peculiar sensation of being organized from the outside in, rather than constantly fighting his own brain.

He took out his phone, Marcus's phone, and called Alex.

"Any adverse effects?" she answered without greeting.

"It's incredible," Tyler whispered. "I can read anything. First try. No reversals, no swimming words. Alex, I never knew it could be like this."

"The transfer is temporary," she reminded him. "Don't get too attached."

Tyler touched the textbook in front of him, the words remaining stable on the page. "Yeah," he said. "Temporary."

He hung up and noticed Marcus had scheduled a meeting with his academic advisor for tomorrow. Tyler had his own advisor meeting—one that would determine his academic probation status.

After a moment's hesitation, he rescheduled both to a later date.

---

Basketball practice was a nightmare. Marcus had played casually in high school, but navigating a collegiate practice in Tyler's body was like being thrown into a professional orchestration with no knowledge of the music.

"Reeves! Where's your head today?" Coach Barrett shouted when Marcus missed an obvious pass. "Run it again!"

The team's offensive sequence required multiple cuts and screens that Marcus couldn't anticipate. Tyler's body knew where to go. He could feel the muscle memory trying to take over. But his conscious mind couldn't surrender control.

Most disturbing was the pain in Tyler's right knee, a persistent ache that worsened with each cut and jump. In the locker room afterward, Marcus discovered a carefully hidden brace and prescription anti-inflammatories in Tyler's bag.

Tyler had never mentioned any injury.

---

Three days had passed. Marcus paced Tyler's apartment, anxiety building. The 24-hour deadline had come and gone with Tyler making excuses: Alex needed more data, one more day would help their understanding, the neural pathways needed to stabilize.

Worse than the delay was how Marcus's sense of self had begun to blur. He'd catch himself speaking with Tyler's inflections, laughing at jokes he normally wouldn't understand, craving foods Tyler's body was accustomed to. Last night he'd dreamed in Tyler's memories—fractured images of a childhood basketball court and a father shouting at him.

His phone buzzed. A text from Alex: Meet at lab at 7.

When Marcus arrived, Tyler was already there, wearing Marcus's body like he'd been born to it. The sight still caused a visceral wrongness, watching his body move with someone else's mannerisms.

"You missed another check-in," Marcus said. "And you canceled my medical school interview prep session."

"Rescheduled," Tyler corrected, sitting with a straight-backed posture Marcus recognized as his own. "This was more important. Alex is seeing unprecedented neural adaptation. Our minds are actually reshaping our borrowed brains."

"That's not comforting," Marcus snapped. "We had an agreement. Twenty-four hours."

"I needed more time," Tyler said quietly. "You don't understand what this is like for me."

"And my interview? It's in four days."

"I'll handle it."

"You'll—" Marcus stared. "No. Absolutely not. We're switching back. Now."

Tyler exchanged a look with Alex. Something passed between them that sent a chill through Marcus.

"What did you do?" Marcus demanded.

Tyler sighed. "I asked Alex to modify the procedure."

"Modify how?"

"The reversal process is more complex than anticipated," Alex interjected, not meeting his eyes. "The neural pathways have begun permanent adaptation."

"Permanent?" Panic surged through Marcus, his heart—Tyler's heart—hammering. "That wasn't the deal. You promised twenty-four hours!"

"I was drowning," Tyler said, Marcus's voice cracking with emotion. "Every day. Words jumbling, professors thinking I'm stupid or lazy. Do you know what it's like to have the answers trapped in your head while everyone looks at you like you're worthless?"

"So you're stealing my life? My future?"

"I'm borrowing it," Tyler insisted. "Just until after the semester. Then we'll figure something out."

Marcus looked between them, realization dawning. "You never intended to switch back, did you?"

The silence was his answer.

[swappedandtrapped]

Swapping Research - Part 1

Starting to try and use AI for translations to English. I don't like it, but writing in English is exhausting.

Part 2 here Part 3 here

Marcus Chen gripped the bathroom sink, staring at his reflection in the fluorescent-lit mirror. "Trapezium, trapezoid, scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform…" The naming of hand bones did little to slow his racing heart. Organic chemistry in thirty minutes. Dr. Zhang's infamous molecular mechanisms exam.

The bathroom door banged open. Tyler Reeves filled the doorframe, six-foot-three of basketball glory in team outfit, a crumpled paper in his hand.

"Thought I'd find you in here." Tyler's voice echoed against the tiles. "Pre-exam ritual?"

"I was trying to make sure I remember everything for the exam," Marcus said, straightening and adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "Some of us can't coast through life on jump shots."

Tyler's smile disappeared. He held out the paper: a formal notice from the university. "They said I'm on academic probation. One semester to get my GPA above a 2.0 or I lose my scholarship."

Marcus scanned the notice. "I told you to drop Evolutionary Biology. You needed to start with—"

"Not the point, Marcus." Tyler ran a hand through his too-long hair, his usual confidence replaced by a mild sense of desperation. "I need help. Not tutoring. Something… different."

"I have an exam in 30 minutes, and my med school interview next week. Whatever this is—"

"My cousin Alex," Tyler interrupted, lowering his voice as someone entered a bathroom stall behind them. "She's doing this neuroscience PhD thing. Consciousness… transfer. Temporarily."

Marcus stared at him. "You're describing science fiction."

"It's real. She's been mapping neural pathways, testing it on rats. They're… they're switching brains, Marcus. She needs human subjects." Tyler leaned closer, voice urgent. "Twenty-four hours. That's all. I just need to know what it feels like."

"What what feels like?"

"To have a brain that works right." The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. Tyler glanced around, then continued quieter: "I don't really like to talk about it. I'm dyslexic. Bad. Words swim around, flip backwards. Dad refused to get me tested.

Marcus remembered high school, Tyler recording lectures instead of taking notes, always asking to study together but never reading aloud. The pieces clicked into place.

"Tyler, I'm sorry, but consciousness transfer? It's just not possible."

"It's real. She's proven it. Just twenty-four hours in your body. To read and prepare without feeling like drowning, so I can maybe actually get something into this thick skull" Tyler's eyes held a desperation Marcus had never seen. "Please. I'm out of options."

Marcus thought of his carefully planned week, his interview preparation, his parents' expectations. "This is insane."

"One day. Then everything goes back to normal. I promise.

---

Alex Nguyen's "lab" was a repurposed storage room in the neuroscience department basement, filled with humming equipment that looked cobbled together from different decades. Monitors displayed brain scans in pulsing colors..

"The procedure is non-invasive," Alex explained, her undercut hairstyle severe under the fluorescent lighting. She adjusted electrodes on a strange helmet apparatus. "Consciousness mapping uses quantum entanglement principles to create a temporary neural signature exchange."

Marcus eyed the setup skeptically. "This can't possibly have IRB approval."

Alex's eyes flicked to Tyler, then back to Marcus. "We're in the theoretical testing phase."

"She means 'no,'" Tyler translated.

"The risks are minimal," Alex continued, typing rapidly on a keyboard. "Temporary disorientation, mild synesthesia, possible dream disturbances. The transfer nullifies and reverses naturally after approximately twenty-four hours."

"Has anyone done this before? Human subjects?" Marcus asked.

Alex's slight hesitation told him everything. "You'd be the first complete transfer. But the animal studies are promising. Rats with trained maze behaviors maintained those memories in their new bodies."

"This is crazy," Marcus muttered, but didn't leave. Something in Tyler's desperation had touched him. The vulnerability beneath the confident facade.

"Please. I wouldn't ask if there was another way." Tyler said quietly.

Marcus thought of their childhood: Tyler defending him from bullies in elementary school, the effortless way he navigated social situations that left Marcus paralyzed with anxiety. Maybe he owed him this.

"Twenty-four hours," Marcus said firmly. "Then we switch back, no matter what. I have that interview next week."

Alex gestured them toward two reclined chairs. "You'll be unconscious for approximately thirty minutes during the transfer. When you wake, you'll be in each other's bodies."

As Alex attached electrodes to his temples, Marcus felt panic rising. "Wait. How will we prove this actually worked? That it's not suggestion or—"

"Tell me something only you would know," Alex suggested. "Something you can repeat back afterward."

Marcus thought for a moment, then leaned over to Alex and whispered, "I secretly watch 'RuPaul' when I'm stressed."

Alex grinned. "The drag show? Seriously?"

"Don't judge. Tyler, it's your turn."

Tyler hesitated, then whispered something that made Alex's eyebrows rise.

"Didn't expect that," Alex said. "Ok, now that that's done, are you Ready?" Alex asked, hovering by the switch.

"No," Marcus admitted.

"Do it anyway," Tyler said.

The electricity began as a gentle hum at the base of Marcus's skull, spreading outward. Panic fluttered in his chest as the room blurred. His last thought was a desperate recitation—trapezium, trapezoid, scaphoid, lunate—before darkness pulled him under.

---

Marcues' consciousness returning felt like being yanked from deep water. He gasped, his body feeling impossibly wrong: longer limbs, different center of gravity, a dull ache in the right knee. His stomach heaved, and he barely managed to turn before vomiting on the floor.

"Easy," came Alex's voice. "Disorientation is normal."

Marcus looked up, vision swimming, and felt a primal horror unlike anything he'd experienced. Across the room, his own body was sitting up, looking at its hands with wonder. His face, but not his expressions, not his movements.

"Holy shit," his voice said from his body, Tyler's inflections all wrong in Marcus's mouth. "It worked. It actually worked."

Marcus tried to stand and staggered, unfamiliar muscles responding differently than expected. He reached up to adjust glasses that weren't there, fingers touching unfamiliar features. Tyler's features. His new nose, his soft lips, his beard scruff…

The violation went deeper than he'd imagined. Not just wearing someone else's skin, but inhabiting their flesh completely, feeling their physical pain, seeing through their eyes.

"Twenty-four hours," he managed to say, Tyler's voice emerging from his throat. "Not a minute more."

His own face looked back at him, wearing Tyler's crooked smile. It was real. Marcus wasn't in his own body anymore. And the raw, visceral wrongness of that fact threatened to drown him completely.

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 3

As always, character consistency is hard for me. Just go with it.

I wake up again. Every time I wake up, I have about a minute of peace before my brain starts to boot and realizes where it is. That minute of bliss is what has kept me going recently. It's the only part of the day when I don't feel so… Wrong.

Waking up unwillingly, I go to the bathroom to wash my face. When I arrive, I realize it's been about a week after the car crash and I still can't get used to seeing Roy when I look in the mirror.

I study my new reflection. I stare at my skin blemishes on Roy's dark skin. My big Brown eyes underneath my thick eyebrows. My nose in the middle of the face that is now mine… When I open my mouth to brush my teeth, I see a crooked array of yellowish rectangles. I cringe realizing I'm actually tasting Roy's mouth and teeth 24/7. Roy didn't have a spare toothbrush, so I had to use his old one. Disgusting. I hate this so much. Why doesn't he take care of himself?

When I return to his room to get dressed, I sigh in frustration. During the last few days, I finally understood why Roy felt comfortable walking around without his shirt on. I was just too hot. ALL THE TIME. The meat and fat of his stocky body type kept the heat trapped within me. If I had a shirt on for more than 5 minutes I would start sweating and smell Roy's scent even more.

So just like he did, I elected to spend the day shirtless again. It's not like anyone would see me. Well except for… Me.

After trying to explain to Roy in my body what happened, he's gotten cold. I mean, I would too. I was practically begging him to remember, but when I'm in Roy's body, it's pretty hard to convince someone who he really is.

"I'm coming back late." He states in a premeditatedly cold intonation. "Ok," I reply in the same manner. I didn't see the point to initiate another argument. convincing him is impossible. "I might bring someone back with me. Please don't be weird when she's here." "Ok. I reply again. But missing any sense of my old self, I ask: "Someone I know?" "None of your business Roy." I cringe at the sound of that name. "And also, you don't know any of my friends. They're MY friends. Even if you… Think otherwise…" He goes out, leaving me alone in the flat.

Like a punch in the fucking gut.

Which reminded me, I'm hungry. I order an extra-large Pizza so Roy's stomach would leave me alone. Roy had an apatite I couldn't ignore easily. At first, I fought off his habits, unwilling to accept the new situation. But as the days went on, I gave in to most of Roy's habits. Like eating too much of this junk. I look at my body and feel shame as I admit I lost the battle against Roy's needs.

Later, I lay on the sofa, investigating Roy's phone. Thankfully, he locked his phone with Face ID, so I didn't have to guess any passwords and was able to unlock it. Every time I have some time off, I study his phone and learn a bit more about Roy's schedule and connections.

You see, I did swap bodies with him, but I didn't acquire his memories. So, I try to avoid all contact until I get the hang of whatever relationships he had in his life. "Yes, it's me. I'm Roy." I say to myself, trying to fake his tone. Even though I hear his voice, it still feels fake.

But today, after going through all his texts, I began looking through his notes app. I find there grocery lists, names of bands he wanted to check out, some foreign language I still can't read, and also something with the title… "Research"? What's this?

I open the file and my eyes widen. It's a long note, riddled with an assortment of semi-related bullet points regarding… "POWERS"!?

POWERS

possible timed cooldown? variable? Tested times: 5 days (17/05) 8 days (15/09) 6 days (12/11)

only post 24h mark???

ignore. no cooldown. instance of instant swap back. There's another condition.

Note the eye glow at optional swap time. Starts fading. Possible relation to condition?

Ignore. Doesn't fade.

Best swap triggers: visualize face, focus on identity

He was researching his swapping power. I guess Roy didn't receive a handbook with this ability, so he tried to mark the triggers and limitations he confirmed to be true. This was a goldmine. Maybe there's a limit on how long we can stay swapped?

Wait. If I'm Roy… I have his powers! I can swap us back!

I read the whole file, attempting to figure out exactly what conclusions Roy had and what I needed to do to return to my body. It looks like he could just will the swaps to make them happen, but there was some sort of condition that prevented swapping back at some times. Roy named it "The Condition", and going by his note, he didn't figure out what it was.

I immediately try to follow his technique and will the swap to come. I visualize my body, focus on my identity, but 20 minutes later, I'm still stuck in Roy's flesh. When I looked in the mirror, I still see his regular brown eyes. No glow or anything.

Does this 'condition' he mentioned apply to my situation? Am I just a moment away from retrieving my life back? I need to figure out what it is.

Going over Roy's notes I began piecing together a picture of Roy's swapping experiences. Some were willing, some were not. Some were functional, but some were for no reason at all other than to swap. But after a few hours of going over the cases, I started noticing a pattern.

While swaps were able to occur at any time, reverse swaps would never work on days of a full moon or new moon! That's the only explanation! It fits in every swap Roy documented in this file. This must be it!

But then I stop. Wait, today isn't a full or new moon. Why am I not able to swap us back?

A new fear rushes in as I hear the apartment door open. "Yeah, and then we… Oh, hey Roy," says Roy in my body accompanied by a girl I used to know. She waves politely at me with a certain reservation. I guess he warned her about me… "So it's the last door on the left." He points to the bathroom. "Thanks. It'll be just a minute." She says, closing the door after her.

Roy in my body leans silently on the wall, checking his phone for messages while he waits for her to finish. I look at him with envy.

But then I see it. His eyes. That Glow. It was subtle, but it was definitely there.

I don't have Roy's swapping power.

He does.

It swapped along with his body.

Tears start forming in my eyes as I realize the only hope I had of getting back was never an option. Roy looks up from his phone to me. Seeing my pathetic face in ruin. He makes an expression I can't decipher. Maybe empathy, but probably pity.

My friend exits the bathroom. "Hey," Roy turns to her. "Wait for me in the car, ok? I need to close a small thing with Roy. "Sure. Don't be long." She said going out the door. "I won't." He answers.

We look at each other for a few quiet moments. "Listen, are you gay or something?" "What?" I ask confused. Still in tears. "You want to be me. You cry when you see me with girls. I can add 2 plus 2 you know." "Fucking ass." I spit out. He duped me into this mess. He should rot in hell. "Don't be a bitch man. This can't-" "Bitch!??" I cut him off. "This is all your fault! I'm like this because of you!"

I charge towards him. I'm stuck like this because of him! I needed him to know how much I suffer because of his recklessness! But Roy was quick enough to get out of the way.

"Ok Roy. Fine. You started this." "Fuck off!"

I charge again, and Roy slips to the side again. I stumble and crash onto the living room floor and feel great pain in my back. I scream in pain and frustration. This fucking weight. I start sweating again and smell Roy's body stench, but I can't concentrate on it. I feel my body grounded by another body.

"That's IT Roy!" He yells at me from above. He prevents me from getting up. God dammit why didn't Roy ever go to the gym? "Get off of me!" I shout. "Say your name." He commands me as I struggle. "Say your name Roy." "I'm telling you! I'm not Roy!" I cry out. "It's the deal man, it's the swap deal!"

My face explodes with massive pain. Roy punched me in the fucking face.

"SAY YOUR NAME." "You can still have it! You can still swap us back! Please! Remember!"

Bam. Another one. I hear my nose crack and start feeling the blood.

"This is going to keep happening until you say your fucking name Roy." "You're hurting me! Please! Your eyes! I can tell you have your power!"

This time it was a punch from the right. My head is spinning.

"You know what? Even if I did have this power, I would never swap with you!" He shouts at me. "You are PATHETIC." Punch. "You stay to slob at home. You have no friends. You're an ugly motherfucker that can't even accept who he is!" Another punch.

But he's right. This is me now. I can say whatever I want but the fact remains. I'm in his body, and I'm here. Permanently. And even if he could swap us, he will never do it after this."

"For the last time. Say. Your. Name." "Roy." I whimper. "Louder." "Roy." "Now the whole sentence. Shithead" "My name is Roy."

He lifts me and pushes me in front of a full-length mirror.

"Now say it like you mean it. Tell it to yourself"

I look at my pathetic excuse for a body. I see a chubby guy with a bloody face. I see black hair all over covering a dark skin.

"My name is Roy Alamin." "And don't you fucking forget it."

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 2

Read part 1

Roy closed the door after him, leaving me still half-shocked at the situation. I felt disgusting. I was still soaking in sweat by this whole rude awakening, and I smelt awful. Like Roy always did. I couldn't do this. I couldn't stay in this sweaty piece of shit of a body. I decided I HAVE to take a shower and clean myself. At least get this sweaty stench off of me.

I wasn't thrilled about having to see myself naked in Roy's body, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I had to. I turned on the hot water and stripped. Trying not to look down, I started cleaning myself and noticed many things in Roy's body I didn't before. How he's actually a bit shorter than me, how thick he was, how soft his body felt (excluding his rough hands).

At some point, I started moving down and was finally confronted with the lower half of Roy's body. It was painful for me to see his stubby dick peeking out of a hairy bush. "I'm stuck with this for now, but it's only temporary." I tried to tell myself, cringing again at how Roy's voice came out of me.

I dried up and went to my room to get dressed, but I found this to be more challenging than I thought. After barely fitting into my underwear, I tried picking a shirt, but I couldn't find anything to fit my new size. I tried putting on one of my baggiest shirts, but I just couldn't fit. I struggled with it for a good minute before starting to sweat again and admitting defeat. There was no other choice other than to go to Roy's room and wear something he had in my new size. I ended up taking underwear and light shorts but found out that all of his shirts were in the wash. Of course. I took one from his laundry basket and took a sniff of Roy's essence. "Hmm… Clean enough.".

I spent the rest of the day trying not to think about the fact that I was in Roy's body.

I tried reading one of my books, but it was hard to concentrate for some reason. It took me a few times to understand what's going on. I thought it was just an older book with older English, but maybe it was because I had to constantly look at his think hand and fingers holding the book.

Later on, I tried one of his video games, thinking it could pass the time better. I started up the console and connected to some sort of multiplayer shooting game. I got the hang of things pretty quickly and started winning matches. Maybe I also got Roy's muscle memory along with his body? But my winning streak was soon met with my annihilation by the opposing team. "Kus ummak!" I shouted in anger to the empty house on instinct. Why did I say that?

The day went on with nothing of note. I stayed home all day, had a nap, played games. At some point, I answered Roy's phone and pretended to be him to avoid suspicion. I was weird, talking to someone I don't know with no issue. Like I knew what he wanted to hear.

Evening came, and there was still no sign of Roy in my body. I was starting to worry since I was at his mercy in this situation. I realized he could just disappear, and I would never see my body again. With this new fear, I called my phone to make sure he's coming back soon.

He answered the call, talking through the Bluetooth speaker in his (or my?) car. "Hey, what's up?" He said. "You're on speaker with the guys." I heard some laughter in the background. Was he hanging out with MY friends?!"

"Ah, yeah, hey." I said, trying to cover up the fact I was blackmailed into lending my body. "Just wanted to check when you're coming back. It's getting late."

I heard my friends in the background again. "Why is he acting like your dad?" "Haha he's lonely. Fucking cringe."

My face became red with embarrassment.

"It's ok, man. We're on our way back. Be there in 30."

"Ok, hurry up."

"Don't worry, going str-"

The call ended with a horrible crashing sound ringing in my ear. I was stunned. What just happened? I called again. No answer. I was in panic mode. Called again. Nothing. My heart was beating so fast, my body sweating again from the anxiety. Did he crash my fucking car?

The fourth time was a dud. Only at the 5th try I got an answer.

"ROY! DID YOU FUCKING CRASH MY CAR?" I shouted.

"What?" It was my voice, but Roy was clearly disoriented.

"JUST ANSWER. ARE YOU OK???"

"Yeah. I mean, maybe. Now I'm not so sure. My head got hit real bad. I'm bleeding."

"Fuck." That's my head that's gonna need to recover. "What about the others?"

"They're fine. They called me an ambulance."

"Thank god." I sighed in relief. "I was so sure all of you died."

"Haha it would take a bit more to kill me Roy."

My blood ran cold. "What did you call me?"

"Your name. Roy. Did I say something else? I really need them to check my head."

Again. I was stunned. Was he calling me that because my friends were near or did he really hit his head that bad?

"Hey, umm, are your friends with you?"

Roy sighed. "No, they're waiting by the wreck, I went aside for a bit to call everyone."

Stunned again.

"Listen Roy, I need to call my insurance, we'll talk later, ok?"

The phone slipped from my hands and fell to the floor. He thinks he's me? There's no way. No fucking way.

No. Fucking. Way.

When he finally came back, my fears were confirmed. He really forgot ever being himself or having the ability to swap bodies for that matter. I tried to convince him, make his memories re-appear. But nothing worked. He dismissed me and called me crazy no matter how hard I tried. At some point, he was fed up and locked himself in my room.

I was almost sobbing. This was it. I was stuck in his fucking body with no way to go back. With no other choice, I went to Roy's room and leaned against his bed. On his floor. In his body. Knowing that I will now have to live his life.

Thanks for reading. Part 3 maybe?

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 1

Hey, first thing I'm posting here. Character consistency with AI is difficult for me, so just go with it.

It wasn't a good time in my life. The pandemic hit, making me unemployed. I stayed at home to avoid getting sick and with nothing to do I was starting to find any excuse to go out of my room. I was renting this flat with another guy I found on Craigslist, Roy.

Roy was my age, he moved in from some place outside the county a few years ago and we managed to stay out of each others' way. Maybe except a few times I heard his booming voice shout at the TV, cursing other players in some online game. He was also too comfortable in the house, taking off his shirt and staying like that even when guests came over.

Slowly, the world came back to order. The quarantines stopped, but I was still out of a job. I ended up searching for a long while. I was struggling and really tried to be frugal. Eating cheap, saving up, the usual. But my savings were about to run out.

I was desperate, and even though I felt bad doing so, I asked Roy if he could lend me the money for rent. Roy, to my disappointment, refused. He said he had really bad experiences with friends he lent money to, but never payed him back. I begged, said it was a sure thing, I was willing to do anything, sign contracts, whatever he wanted.

"Sorry man," He said. "You know how it is, I can't let my friends owe me money," He insisted. "But if you're willing to do something for me in return, I think we can still work something out." I was hesitant. "What do you mean? Like doing your laundry?" "Well. Sort of." He smiled. "Just make sure to be free this weekend so you could help me with that thing." It was either that or become homeless, so I jumped to hug him "Yes, of course! Anything! Thanks man!" "No worries. I'll give you the details Friday morning."

The week went by quick. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I guessed it was just some house work or doing errands for him. He was straight, so anything sex related was out of the question. I relaxed and knew that I won't be kicked out of my place. At least this month.

…

Friday morning came, but my alarm didn't go off. I woke from the direct sunlight peaking through the window curtains when I knew that my window was facing west. But the first thing that I knew was wrong was the smell. Something smelled... Wrong... Like someone else's laundry. In my half-asleep state, I turned on my side to get my phone to check the time. Eyes still closed, I couldn't feel the phone on my nightstand. I opened my eyes to see where the hell was it, but my heart stopped when I first saw my hand.

It definitely wasn't my hand. Darker skin, hairier, and a bit bigger than mine. I saw it was attached to a foreign arm with the same features of the hand. Darker skin, more hair, and bigger than mine. I gasped in fright and used the hand and arm to take off the blanket and reveal what was underneath.

Not my body. This is definitely not my body. I was wearing only pajama shorts, which I never do. My chest was thick, heavy, and hairy. My gut spilling over its own weight. My legs wiggled with fat from my movement. Wait, is this… Roy's body? I touched my chin and felt the beard Roy had. I took a look up from my body and saw I was actually in his bed, which is also in his room. What the fuck happened to me? What is going on? I run to a mirror to see if my fear is true. All I saw was Roy, having the same expression of horror I had.

I screamed, only to quickly stop and cover my mouth. What the hell was this sound coming out of me? "Ahh, test, test." I tried to listen and realized I also heard Roy's voice coming my throat. MY throat! I couldn't escape it. I tried looking for a way out of this body, clawing my skin to find an opening, but all I did was hurt myself.

I was out of breath. I started to sweat. The world was spinning and I had to sit down. After crashing on the shared living room sofa, my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace, but I was still shocked. "What the fu-" I said, surprised again to hear Roy's accent through my teeth. Was this a dream? What the fuck is going on?

"Can you keep it down? It's barely 8 o'clock." a voice behind me said. My voice. My real voice. I looked up to see who I assumed was "Roy?". I stood up to face him. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early, but whatever, I guess we can do this now." "You… You knew about this?" I stammered. "Wait. Did YOU do this?!" "Don't make a big deal out of it man, I told you I'll needed you on Friday." "FOR WHAT!?" I shouted, with his booming voice. "For replacing you?!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It's just for this weekend.". He started getting ready to go out. "And I don't need you to replace me, I just needed to not be me for a bit." "WHAT THE FUCK ROY?!" I started getting out of breath again. Maybe even a low-key panic attack. "Why didn't you say anything about that? I thought I was just gonna clean your room or something!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. You're getting free rent money for basically just sitting on your ass all day." "Because you TOOK MY BODY." "Don't be dramatic, it's just for the weekend. I'm borrowing it." He put on my coat on his way out. "Couldn't you tell me before? How did you even do this?"

"That's not important, I've had this thing since I was little." He started putting on my shoes and tying his shoelaces. Listen, if you don't want this, we can switch back now, but forget about the rent. I'm not giving out free money. It's your choice."

I started to form an insult, but quickly realized this might be my only option. And is being in Roy's body for a weekend really that bad?

"And this is just for the weekend?" "Yes." "And all I have to do is stay here?" "Or go out, I don't care. I just need your body." "But why?" "That's where the money comes in. Most of the pay is for you being discreet about this." The gears in my head turned. "What, like something illegal? Sex? Don't do weird shit in my body." "Nothing sketchy, I promise, but I really need to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He closed the door after him, leaving me still shocked at the situation he got me into.

Thanks for reading. Part 2 out soon.