Twin Shifts, Logan/Harold

It was the first week of summer, and with college classes finally on pause, Logan and Caleb had shifted their business into full gear—now open to anyone willing to pay their fee, not just university students. Their ad had made its way into some niche forums and word-of-mouth started spreading fast. That’s how they got Harold.

Harold was in his seventies and absolutely not in the mood for his annual golf outing with his old colleagues. According to him, it was six hours of bragging, sweating, and pretending not to have lower back pain. So instead, he showed up at Logan and Caleb’s apartment with an envelope of cash and a simple request: “Make sure I don’t look like a total jackass out there.”

Logan grinned. “You’ll be the life of the party.”

With a handshake and a surge of energy, the swap took place—Logan’s ability flaring to life and pulling his mind into Harold’s body. The next moment, Logan was standing in the living room as a tanned, grizzled old man with gray stubble and a tired pair of eyes. He stretched his limbs, rolled his shoulders, and looked down at himself. The fit wasn’t as spry as what he was used to, but it had a certain charm—especially with the old-man khakis and polo.

A few hours later, Logan-as-Harold was standing next to three other retirees at the golf course, club in hand and a red cap shading his eyes. “You guys ready to lose today or what?” he said with a smirk, channeling all the energy of a young guy in an old man’s body.

The others chuckled, clearly not expecting Harold to be this energetic. He cracked jokes, took confident swings, and even flirted with the golf cart girl—just a little, just enough to make his new friends raise their eyebrows.

By the end of the day, Harold’s colleagues were slapping him on the back, telling him he hadn’t looked that alive in years.

When Logan returned to the apartment later that night and swapped back, Harold blinked, stunned.

“You… you actually had fun?”

Logan just grinned. “Told you I would.”

Harold shook his head in disbelief. “You might’ve just saved this tradition.”

Logan laughed. “Glad to be of service, Mr. Hole-in-One.”

Solo Trip to Exchange Island

I never imagined I’d be boarding a plane alone at 48 years old. Not for a cruise, not for a beach resort—this was Exchange Island. The infamous destination where every guest trades bodies with someone else for the duration of their stay. A complete escape. After losing my husband last year, I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted something different. Something that made me feel alive again.

When I landed, I joined a small group of strangers at the island’s welcome center. No one knew who they’d become—we were all just told to pack light and sign the waivers. “Everything will feel natural once the exchange is complete,” the staff reassured us with unnervingly calm smiles. Then we were each led to our own private pods.

The pod was sleek and clinical, like something from a sci-fi movie. I laid down, heart pounding, as soft music played and a warm mist filled the chamber. I closed my eyes, uncertain—and then everything went dark.

I awoke moments—or maybe minutes—later, gasping. My body felt off. Heavier. Stronger. Tighter. When I looked down, I nearly screamed. Instead of my familiar curves, I was staring at a rock-hard chest, chiseled abs, and sun-kissed skin stretched over defined muscle. My hands were huge. My legs thick with power. I reached up and felt a sharp jawline, short dark hair, and stubble that wasn’t mine.

Stepping out of the pod, I caught my reflection in the mirrored glass across the hall. I looked like a man in his late 20s, the type of guy women whisper about at the beach. Tanned, confident, handsome. And I—he—was smiling.

That afternoon, I strolled shirtless along the poolside, wearing only snug white swim briefs, basking in the way eyes lingered on me. Women flirted. I flirted back. My laugh was deep, my posture loose, cocky, alive. I'd been bottled up for so long I forgot what it was like to be wanted. To be free.

Exchange Island had promised transformation. I just hadn’t realized how much I needed it.

Second Skin #2

It had been two months since Ellis last changed.

He told himself he was trying to take a break. To live in his own skin for a while. But the truth was, every time he passed a thrift store, a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, Just try one more on…

Today, he gave in.

A sleek navy polo shirt caught his eye—simple, clean, and recently laundered. It hung perfectly among the racks, still holding its shape like its last owner had only just let it go. Ellis could feel it calling to him. Not loud, not urgent—just a quiet tug of curiosity.

He slipped into the dressing room and pulled the curtain shut. His hands moved almost without thinking, sliding the shirt over his shoulders.

Then came the shift.

His arms tingled first, tightening and toning, veins lifting to the surface as youthful definition replaced middle-aged softness. His shoulders pulled broader, posture straightening effortlessly. The lines on his face smoothed away as his jaw refined, cheekbones lifting.

Then his hair grew in fuller, lighter, shifting to a sandy blond. His pale complexion returned, but now it was fresher, flush with a natural, healthy hue. His body slimmed slightly, settling into the wiry, athletic frame of a young man in his twenties.

He blinked into the mirror.

Gone was the graying man in his forties. Now, a clean-cut, handsome young guy stared back—dressed down in grey sweatpants and sneakers.

Ellis ran a hand along his face, brushing the light stubble on his jaw.

“Damn, I look… normal,” he muttered, grinning.

But it wasn’t disappointment—it was freedom. In this body, he could slip in and out of crowds unnoticed. A blank slate with charm. The kind of guy who didn’t raise questions.

Another life added to his collection.

And this one? This one he might just take out for a spin.

The Gender Wave #IDK YET

The summer sun shimmered off the water as Alyssa lay back on the dock, arms behind her head, eyes half-closed. Her skin was still warm from the ocean, and the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the wood almost lulled her to sleep. She hadn’t expected to adjust so easily to the new body the Gender Wave had given her — broader shoulders, flatter chest, and a voice that still caught her off guard when she laughed. But it felt… fine. Natural, even.

 

Lying next to Alyssa, Robert shifted, brushing damp hair from his—her—face. The two of them had been inseparable since fourth grade, but everything felt a little different now. The Gender Wave hadn’t spared anyone, and now Robert sat in a smaller, softer frame — the female version of himself. His hair was longer, his limbs slimmer, and his laugh more delicate. But his eyes? Still the same.

“I like you,” Robert said suddenly, voice tight with nerves. “I think I’ve liked you for a while. But I’m scared.”

Alyssa turned her head toward him. “Scared of what?”

Robert hesitated. “It’s stupid. It’s just… I haven’t done anything. Since the Wave. No hookups, no dates. I’ve been too freaked out. My body—it’s not mine. Not the one I grew up with. And the thought of being with someone… intimately… as a woman—it scares me.”

Alyssa sat up slightly, resting on her elbows. “It’s not stupid,” she said softly. “This isn’t what we signed up for. But you’re still you, Robert. I see that.”

Robert gave a weak smile. “It’s just… I feel like a stranger in my skin. And it’s weird enough having feelings for my best friend, but now I’m also scared I won’t enjoy things I used to. What if I don’t know how to be with someone anymore?”

“You don’t have to figure it all out today,” Alyssa said gently. She reached over and took Robert’s hand. “We’ll figure it out together. Slowly. Only what feels right.”

Robert looked at her — really looked — and for the first time in a while, he smiled without fear.