It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon in the park. Family picnics, kids on the playground, joggers, and dog walkers—just a normal day in my jurisdiction. I was doing my usual rounds, sipping lukewarm gas station coffee, trying to keep my mind off the latest department drama.
Then I saw them.
Two teenage girls sitting on a park bench, whispering and giggling like they'd just pulled off the prank of the century. They weren’t causing trouble—at least, not directly—but something about them felt… off.
And then I started noticing the people around them.
A dad pushing a stroller suddenly stumbled, his body stretching taller, leaner. His baggy cargo shorts morphed into tight yoga pants, and his loose t-shirt shrank into a sports bra. His hair spilled past his shoulders, and his face softened into something delicate and pretty. He kept walking like nothing happened, completely unaware that he’d just been turned into a young, athletic woman in neon running gear.
A pair of elderly women sitting on a park bench sipped their iced coffees, only for their wrinkles to fade, their backs to straighten. They blinked, adjusting to their sudden twenty-something looks, now dressed in crop tops and high-rise leggings like they’d just come from brunch.
A group of teenage boys tossing a football started laughing—until one of them tripped over his own two feet. He landed, dazed, his hands now smaller, his hair bouncing in dark curls around his face. The others barely seemed to notice as he stood up, now a confused but pretty brunette in a tank top and denim shorts, swiping at her long lashes as if trying to remember why she’d been playing a sport.
That was it. I’d seen enough.
I approached the two girls, adjusting my belt and radio. I wasn’t going to be one of those bad-cop types—I was just going to ask some questions. This had to be some kind of prank. Maybe some “Tikky-Tokky” nonsense, like my niece was always rambling about. Filters? Hypnosis? Mass hysteria?
Whatever it was, it had to stop.
“Afternoon, ladies,” I said, keeping my tone light but firm. “Mind telling me what exactly you’re doing?”
They looked up at me, all wide-eyed innocence, but I wasn’t buying it.
“We’re just enjoying the weather, Officer,” the older one said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms. “Because it looks to me like people are changing all around you, and somehow, none of them seem to notice.”
The younger girl giggled, exchanging a glance with her friend.
“That’s so weird, I wonder why he noticed” she said, her voice dripping with faux concern.
I narrowed my eyes.
“All right, I don’t know what kind of stunt this is, but—”
And then everything shifted.
Like stepping off a curb I hadn’t seen. A weird, stomach-flipping sensation as the world blurred and stretched.
I gasped, clutching my stomach—except my hands felt wrong. Smaller, softer. My uniform melted away, replaced by—oh God.
I was standing in the park in nothing but a bright pink bikini.
The flimsy triangles barely covered my chest—not that there was much to cover. I could see the tiny mounds on my chest, perky but way too small compared to the other girls standing near me. My hands flew to my hips, now delicate and slender, my toned police-issue frame replaced by something petite, curvy in all the wrong places, and way too young.
I squeaked.
My voice—higher, breathier—not mine.
I looked down.
Long, painted nails. Tanned, toned legs. My feet perched in ridiculous glittery sandals. My badge? Gone. My gun? Replaced by friendship bracelets.
What. The. Hell.
“Oh my God, Blyss,” a voice whined next to me. “Stop spacing out, we have to advertise the car wash!”
Blyss?
I turned—and was immediately hugged by a perky blonde in the same bikini.
“Ugh, you’re such a dork,” she laughed, squeezing my shoulders. “C’mon, girl, we need to, like, wave at cars and be cute or we won’t raise enough for the sorority!”
Sorority. Sorority.
No.
No, no, no.
I scrambled for something—anything—to explain what was happening. But my head felt fluffy, full of giggles and vague concerns about whether my boobs were big enough for Greek life.
The other girls stood around me, also in bikinis, waving and smiling at passing cars. A huge banner read “ΔΞΒ Car Wash – Support Our Sisters!”
This wasn’t real.
I wasn’t a sorority pledge.
I wasn’t a tiny, sweet, secretly nerdy nineteen-year-old named Blyss with a weird spelling.
But… I was.
I could feel it.
The memories pressing in. Late-night study sessions, movie nights with my sisters, whispering about whether my itty-bitty boobs would stop me from getting into the hottest frat party.
The two teenage girls sat on the park bench, watching me now.
Giggling.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, touching my face—soft, round, unfamiliar.
A car honked.
I jumped, then—without thinking—waved.
Smiled.
Because that’s what I was supposed to do, right?
I caught my reflection in the side mirror of a passing car—huge brown eyes, glossy lips, long caramel waves cascading over my bare shoulders.
I looked… adorable.
No.
This wasn’t me.
I was—was…
I blinked.
Oh my God, why was I freaking out?
I was Blyss.
I was pledging ΔΞΒ—the best sorority on campus! I had, like, the cutest friends, and even though I was kind of a nerd, my sisters totally loved me.
I twirled a lock of hair around my tiny fingers, still distracted by how dainty my hands looked.
This was fine.
I was fine.
I had hazing to finish and a boy to text later—he was totally into me, even though I was smaller than the other girls.
I sighed.
Maybe if I did well today, my sisters would finally stop teasing me about my boobs.
I smoothed my bikini straps, smiled, and kept waving.
Because that’s what I was supposed to do.
The two teenage girls giggled, watching the adorable little sorority pledge doing exactly what she was meant to do.
“Well,” the older one smirked, “that was easy.”
“Yeah,” the younger one grinned, popping a piece of gum. “Cops never see it coming.”
They stood up, stretching.
“Wanna get ice cream?”
“Duh.”
The girls strolled away, their next target already in sight.