Sisters

— I told you, you need to dress a little bolder to fit in with the other girls. Not like… a slut, sis! — Peter laughed, unable to hold it back. Seeing Joshua—now Emily—in a short skirt, white tights, and a crop top was just… well, something very specific.

Emily spun around sharply, her long hair flashing golden under the desk lamp. The fury in her eyes and her clenched fists spoke for themselves.

— Fuck you, Mallory! — she squeaked, wincing at her own voice, a constant reminder of what she had become. — This is all your fault that I have to look like this! And stop calling me your sister. I’m not your sister!

Peter—now Mallory—exhaled, trying not to lose patience.

— Your new ID says otherwise. Emily Johnson, 15 years old, my little sister. So… accept it until we figure out how to fix this.

Emily twitched her shoulder but kept standing there in her ridiculous outfit, as if afraid to move too suddenly.

— I’m just trying to help you fit in at school, — Mallory continued, softer this time. — You think I like this dress? It’s a fucking nightmare. But if I want to avoid suspicion, I have to look like a normal girl. So do you. You’re pushing it too far for a fifteen-year-old.

Emily flushed.

— Why do I have to be the younger sister? I was supposed to turn seventeen next month!

Mallory rolled her eyes.

— Because otherwise, it wouldn’t make sense. It’s already hard enough for people to believe that “our mom” is 34 and had me at 18. If you were older, it would look even more ridiculous.

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the unfamiliar weight of her new body shift. A month had passed, but her breasts still felt strange. It was unbearable—the skirts, the hair, the way guys looked at her, the facial expressions she had to mimic from other girls.

— It’s temporary. Just play your role at school. And try to fix the software. We’ll be back to normal before you even realize it.

When Peter had called Joshua over to check out his "broken" computer, Joshua had no idea how much he’d regret it.

The program looked like something out of the early 2000s—weird, janky, like some geek joke. It offered options to change facial features, body type, even gender. Peter had laughed, saying it was obviously fake.

Joshua, not believing in this nonsense, randomly selected some settings and hit “Apply” just as his older brother Trevor walked into the room.

Joshua didn’t even have time to process what had happened—one moment he was sitting in front of the screen, smirking at the ridiculous program, and the next… everything was different. Everything was the same, yet the three of them were gone. Or rather, they were still there, but instead of three guys, three girls now stood in their place.

That was a month ago, and their lives had been an absurd, never-ending nightmare ever since.

At first, it seemed like they’d fix it any day now. After all, it was just a computer program, right? All they had to do was figure out how to undo the changes, dig through the code, or at least understand how it even worked. But the more they searched, the clearer it became: there was no way out. The program’s code was encrypted, the interface vanished after activation, and soon the laptop itself stopped turning on—like something or someone didn’t want them to reverse what had happened.

For the first few days, they didn’t even leave the rented apartment they had quickly secured with what little money they had left. The lack of documents, unfamiliar faces in the mirror, and the horrifying thought that their families wouldn’t recognize them kept them paralyzed.

Joshua paced the apartment, snapping at the others one moment and falling into silent shock the next. Peter had initially tried to take action—calling hacker friends, attempting to recover the laptop’s data—but it was all useless. And Trevor… Trevor had spent the entire first day in the bathroom, staring at his reflection. His life was over. It wasn’t just that he had become a woman—he clearly wasn’t 20 anymore. He couldn’t even tell how old the woman in the mirror was. And he was too afraid to even think about the fact that he was probably over 40 now.

The idea to forge documents and try to survive until they found a way back came to Peter after a week—when they realized they were running out of money. Using his online connections and some hacker contacts, Peter managed to get high-quality fake IDs. Now, they were the Johnson sisters, supposedly moving to a new town after their mother, Carol, divorced their father.

— Change, Emily. I don’t want people thinking my sister is a slut and then having to be embarrassed because of you.

Emily threw her hands up abruptly, nearly knocking over a nearby makeup case, and stomped her foot.

— I hate you and this stupid name! Fuck, you should’ve been the mom, not Trevor! You act like… like a fucking hen! — Emily exhaled sharply, clenching her fists.

Mallory didn’t even know what to say at first. Her lips parted in silent outrage, but then she just smirked, slowly crossing her arms—her cursed new curves immediately making their presence known.

— The mom? — she drawled with a sarcastic squint. — Yeah, maybe… Maybe we’ll all be moms one day.

Emily went pale, as if she had been struck.

— You… You’re joking, right? — her voice wavered, and Mallory heard it.

She grinned, but without any joy.

— Of course, — she drawled lazily, but there was something else in her eyes. — I mean, why not? We already look like girls, live like girls. The only thing left is… well, you know.

Emily swallowed nervously.

— You’re sick, — she hissed, gripping the hem of her too-short skirt.

She couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

It was unbearable.

These constant reminders that she was no longer him.

That her body was no longer hers, no longer under her control.

She felt disgusting.