Stacy was brushing her hair at the vanity, her nightgown draping softly over her improved figure. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over her, accentuating the subtle changes she and Will had made with the medallion. Her once tired eyes now sparkled with vitality, and her shoulders held a graceful confidence. She looked younger, more beautiful than ever before.
Will, meanwhile, was folding a stray blanket at the foot of the bed. He glanced at her, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You know,” he said, his voice playful, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I married a movie star.”
Stacy laughed, her cheeks flushing faintly. “Flattery will only get you so far,” she teased, setting the brush down and turning to him. “But… you don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Reynolds.”
Their gazes lingered for a moment, appreciating the changes they’d made, but more than that, appreciating each other. Their shared secret had created a strange, intimate bond, one that felt exhilarating and a little dangerous.
Will grabbed the medallion out of habit, its cool weight familiar in his hand. “We really should find a safer place for this thing,” he muttered, looking around the room as he tidied up. As he bent to pick up Stacy’s discarded dress from the floor, the medallion’s surface brushed against the soft fabric.
He froze. That tingling sensation—the one they had come to associate with the medallion’s magic—rippled through his body. It started at his hand and spread like a warm current, twisting and reshaping him with a surreal fluidity.
“Oh no…” he breathed, his voice already changing, softening into something eerily familiar.
Stacy turned, her expression shifting from confusion to wide-eyed realization. “Will? What did you—?”
But she knew already, she could see what was happening. After a while, Will stood there, but it wasn’t Will anymore. It was Stacy. A perfect copy of her, down to the curve of her cheekbones, the gentle wave of her hair, and the shimmer in her hazel eyes.
“Oh my God,” Will said, the words spilling out in Stacy’s voice. Her voice. His hands flew to his face, his chest, his hips, feeling the unmistakable contours of a woman’s body. Of Stacy’s body.
Stacy’s jaw dropped, and for a moment, neither of them said a word. The surrealness of the situation hung heavy in the air.
Finally, Stacy broke the silence, her tone a mixture of astonishment and amusement. “Will… you’re me.”
Will turned to her, his expression a mix of disbelief and panic. “I’m you,” he repeated, his hands still exploring his transformed body. “I didn’t mean to—Stacy, what do we do?”
She stepped closer, a hesitant smile forming as she looked at her mirror image. “Well, for starters,” she said, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed laughter, “you might want to stop groping yourself.”
Will’s hands shot back to his sides, his—her—cheeks flushing. “This is so weird.”
“Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Stacy replied, tilting her head as she examined him. “You’re… identical. I mean, even your hair—my hair—is perfect.”
Despite the absurdity of the moment, a spark of curiosity flickered in her eyes. Will noticed it and groaned. “Don’t even say it.”
“What?” Stacy said innocently. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re enjoying this,” Will accused, crossing his arms—a gesture that only highlighted the uncanny resemblance.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “But seriously, Will, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”
Will sighed, running a hand through his—her—hair and wincing at how natural the movement felt. “Yeah. Let’s just hope the kids don’t wake up before we do.”
That thought alone sent a shiver through Will.
