Linda's hand trembled as she stared down at the name tag stuck crookedly across her chest.
“HELLO, MY NAME IS JON.”
Her breath caught. “Jon?” she asked, even though the voice that came out of her mouth was already beginning to deepen.
Jennifer—once Jon—stood beside her, arms calmly folded, watching the shift begin. She was still adjusting to her new mature figure, heels clicking softly on the hotel’s polished floor, her makeup flawless, her golden hair shimmering in the artificial light. She raised a single, shaped brow.
“You got my old tag,” Jennifer said coolly, her tone level and authoritative. “Looks like you’re going to learn what it’s like walking in my old shoes. Or, well… my old beat-up sneakers.”
Linda blinked rapidly as a creeping warmth flooded her belly and surged outward. Her limbs shivered, her vision seemed to blur as her frame shrank and thickened in all the wrong ways. Her chest flattened beneath her blouse. She gasped as her center of balance shifted, and the floor suddenly felt further away.
The blouse lost its shape and receded into a faded, loose T-shirt—the exact kind Jon always wore. The familiar scratch of unwashed denim came next, the pants riding lower than she would ever have allowed on her son. The shoes on her feet warped and dulled, turning into battered sneakers with frayed laces.
She panted once, the sensation in her jeans unmistakable and alien. “Oh my god,” she muttered, but it came out in a new voice—Jon’s voice. Her new voice.
Jennifer, statuesque and confident in her heels, smirked as she tilted her head. “That T-shirt’s just as wrinkled as I remember it being.” She walked around Linda—now Jon—circling like a lioness. “You’ve even got the same slouch. Very authentic.”
Linda, now sixteen and male, rubbed her—his—arms uncomfortably. The shirt sleeves hung loosely, exposing pale skin. “This… this is really happening. I’m really…” He trailed off as he caught sight of his reflection in a side mirror. Jon’s face—his own son’s gawky, scruffy, unkempt face—stared back.
Jennifer stepped closer and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go, Jon. We’ve both changed. But the house still needs a mother—and from now on, I think I’ll be the one handling that.”
Jon—Linda—gulped, pulling away from her touch, uncomfortable not just with her words but how authoritative and natural she sounded in that role. As they stepped through the double doors of the conference hall and into the evening light, Linda’s mind spun with new thoughts. A strange tension welled in him—confused, resentful… but also curious. Being sixteen again? A boy? That wasn’t entirely a loss. School might suck—but there was freedom in it. And being a guy? That could have its perks too.
He shook Jennifer’s hand off his shoulder, standing up straighter. “I can walk, mom,” he said, his voice a grumble.
Jennifer simply nodded with a satisfied smile. “Good. We’ll talk when we get home. First thing we’re fixing is that wardrobe.”
They walked in silence down the path toward the guest rooms reserved for their family, a strange pair: the once-son now a commanding adult woman in heels, and the once-mother now a disheveled teen boy trailing slightly behind.
Jennifer walked tall, poised, already planning. If anyone from the family had arrived early, they'd see it firsthand—who she was now. She couldn’t wait to introduce herself properly, and to start reshaping her son into something more presentable. The first of many changes she intended to make.
