The experiment that swapped my body was supposed to be temporary… and yet here I am months later, still living inside this tight little frame, long hair brushing my waist, sports bra barely containing me.

I got used to it.

He got used to it.

Maybe a little too used to it.

This morning I called out, half-serious, half-playful:

“Come here—there’s a cockroach!”

He rushed in, eyes alert. “Where?”

I stepped back slowly, pretending to look around, then tilted my head with a mischievous smile.

“Right… here.”

Before he could question it, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my tiny shorts, spun him by the shirt, and pushed him backward onto the bed—soft, but with a little deliberate force. His surprised laugh told me he knew exactly what I was really doing.

I leaned over him, hair falling around his face, my voice low and teasing:

“Gotcha.”

The rest didn’t need words. The look in his eyes said enough… and the way I climbed onto the mattress said the rest.