New You

You wake up to the faint morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. Everything feels normal. Still groggy, you reach for your phone, fumbling around on the nightstand — until you notice it.

Something feels… off.

A weight.

Something is pressing against your chest, making movement feel strange. You frown, confused, trying to shake off the sluggishness of sleep. But when you glance down —

You freeze.

Two round, unmistakable shapes push against the fabric of your shirt. Large. Soft. Definitely not yours.

A second passes. Then another. Five.

You don't even blink, your mind scrambling to process what you're seeing. A joke? A dream? Some kind of hallucination? The overwhelming sense of unreality grips you, but despite the panic bubbling in your chest, your hand moves — hesitantly, cautiously — until you touch them.

A jolt of sensation shoots through your body, warm and strangely pleasant. Your breath catches. Your heartbeat spikes. A single thought lodges itself in your brain, refusing to let go: Is this… real?

Your fingers tremble as you snatch your phone, nearly dropping it in your rush to turn on the screen. With a sharp inhale, you switch to the front camera.

And staring back at you is —

A girl.

Wide, expressive eyes. Long lashes. Soft, delicate features. Slightly parted lips, frozen in shock. Tousled hair that somehow makes her look even more effortlessly pretty. And the worst — or maybe strangest — part?

You recognize that face.

It’s you. Or rather, a female version of you — one that’s objectively prettier, softer, more delicate.

Panic flares in your chest. You hastily unlock your phone with your fingerprint — and it works, just like always. But inside, something even more unsettling is waiting.

You scroll through your social media.

Photos. Posts. Comments.

And in all of them — you, but not you. Her. The girl in the camera. In every single picture. In every status update, every reply. Your friends talk about you as if you've always been this way. Even old posts show you complaining about things from a girl’s perspective. And your name… No. No, no, no. You can’t accept this.

For twenty minutes, you sit there, scrolling, staring, trying to find something — anything — that proves this is some kind of elaborate prank, a glitch in reality. But nothing cracks. The phone doesn’t morph into a hologram. No portals to another dimension open up.

Everything feels disturbingly, undeniably real.

You exhale sharply, setting the phone aside. Your mind races, but there's only one question that truly matters:

What the hell happened?

And more importantly — What do I do now?