Carter had just finished his audition when he spotted it—half-tucked beneath a bush outside the studio, glinting in the afternoon sun. A strange yellow egg, decorated with swirling gold patterns like brushstrokes. He bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hand.
“Probably some kid dropped it,” he muttered, pocketing it with a shrug.
Back at home, Carter barely had time to kick off his shoes before his dad launched into another lecture.
“Another audition? Carter, you’re 26. You need a real job,” his father, Greg, barked from outside the bathroom door standing there in nothing but a white pair of boxers. “Acting isn’t a career. It’s a hobby.”
Carter rolled his eyes. “I’m chasing something I love. Sorry I’m not miserable in a cubicle like you were.”
Greg’s face turned red. “I worked hard to give you a future. And this is what you do with it?”
Fuming, Carter stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him. He sat on his bed and pulled the egg from his pocket, rolling it between his fingers.
“Let’s see what makes you so special,” he muttered, cracking it open.
It was empty.
No candy. No toy. Just a flicker of gold light that shot out like a spark and burst into the air. It swirled above him, then shot beneath the door toward his father.
“What the—?”
A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest. His hands trembled, joints aching. He stood up, disoriented as a strange tightness settled in his knees, his lower back. In the bathroom mirror, he watched as gray began to streak his hair. Wrinkles crept in along his eyes. His muscles drooped, his skin roughened.
He gasped—but not in fear. In awe. It wasn’t stopping.
Meanwhile, Greg stumbled back from the kitchen table, clutching his chest. But instead of pain, he felt something else—ease. His stiff shoulder popped, then loosened. His gut tightened, hair darkened, and his skin began to smooth. He rushed to the hallway mirror, jaw falling slack.
That wasn’t the man who had just yelled at his son. That was him… over 30 years ago.
They both passed out.
By morning, the transformation was complete.
Carter awoke groggily, a sharp soreness in his joints. He pushed himself up and blinked at the reflection in his bedroom mirror—a muscular, broad 61-year-old man with gray hair and thick chest hair staring back. “No… way,” he muttered, touching his wrinkled face.
Down the hall, Greg—now 26 again—was already exploring his new, youthful body. He stood shirtless in the bathroom, flexing, running his fingers over tattoos he didn’t remember getting but now somehow had.
Family photos had changed. Social media profiles, ID cards, even memories.
To the world, Carter had always been the retired dad who spent tireless hours doing all he could to provide for his family. And Greg? He was now the 26-year-old with a fresh start.
And for better or worse…
this role was permanent.
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