Dreams Come True

Sitting on a cold rock in the middle of this stupid forest, Charlie was trying to pull himself together. Though it was incredibly hard to do, considering that just an hour ago, he didn’t have this damn long hair, which kept unpleasantly reminding him of what had happened. And the worst part—his dick was gone, along with everything else. Now, in its place, there was a smooth, shaved female… flatness. His knees—somehow wrapped in these tight leggings, without him even knowing how—were pressed against his chest, and he could feel how a pair of new breasts were awkwardly squished against them.

— Why the hell are you looking at me like that? — Charlie muttered, feeling a strange disgust at his new voice. It didn’t even sound fully feminine—it was almost childlike. Not that either option pleased him, but he didn’t really have a choice, so he just tried not to speak at all, avoiding any further reminders of these changes.

— I... — Greg averted his gaze, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. — Uh… it’s just… the way you’re sitting, and…

— The way I’m sitting?! Spit it out already, damn it! — Charlie snapped, this time raising his voice. Inside, everything was starting to buzz with anger because Greg had been acting weird ever since the transformation, and Charlie didn’t even want to think about what the nerd was fantasizing about. The same nerd who now looked like some kind of ancient Greek god stepping down from Olympus.

And if anyone deserved some kind of badass transformation, it should’ve been Charlie. Sure, he wasn’t a pro athlete, but he worked out regularly and had a pretty damn good body.

But Greg didn’t answer, still staring off toward the portal—the same one they had stepped through together, only to end up in this strange world.

— Nothing’s gonna show up there. We need to figure something out, — Charlie lazily muttered, brushing back a stray lock of hair that the wind kept blowing into his face. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine he was still back on campus, hanging out with his teammates, while Greg—the nerd and the loser—was glued to his usual tree, buried in some geeky crap. But as he took a deep breath, he once again felt his tits pressing against his knees.

— Shit! — His yell echoed through the forest, startling a few birds in the distance. — Well, any bright ideas, pretty boy?

The word pretty boy sent a shiver down both Greg and Charlie’s spines, but there was nothing they could do about it. It was as if something in this place filtered their words, twisting them in ways they couldn’t control. The only option was to somehow adapt. But adjusting wasn’t easy, especially when neither of them had figured out exactly how this weird “censorship” worked or which words were affected.

— Like I said, Charl—ugh, I mean, Charlotte… ugh, shit… sorry… — Greg stumbled over his words, failing to address Charlie by his real name and looking embarrassed as hell at Charlie’s reaction. — Yeah, so, I think we’re in a world where our dreams came true, and…

— And I turned into a chick while you became Mr. Olympia?! How the fuck is this my dream?! — Charlie stood up, immediately feeling his new breasts bounce slightly from the movement. His mind flashed back to an hour ago, to when he had gone up to mess with Greg yet again. But then, right behind Greg, that weird portal had suddenly appeared. They barely had time to react before the oval-shaped anomaly swallowed them up, dumping them into this strange forest—and transforming them into… this.

— Sherry, please, don’t—

— Don’t call me that, sweetheart! — Charlie growled, not even realizing at first that instead of an insult, the word sweetheart had slipped out. Only a second later did he catch it, his face twisting in frustration as he felt heat creep up his cheeks, and a strange knot tightened in his stomach. He had already noticed that looking at Greg like this was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the minute. And all these damn words—he was speaking like some horny chick desperate to fuck this version of Greg.

— Yeah… sorry. It’s just, based on the documents we found here, apparently, you and I are… dating. And we’re on a picnic right now… — Greg trailed off when Charlie let out a loud, irritated sigh, then quickly switched to the main point. — Yeah. Dreams. Or something like that. When you were messing with me, I was thinking about wanting to be strong and confident so that… well, you get it. But you… I don’t know, Charlotte, what were you thinking about? You never said.

— Obviously, not about becoming a chick… — Charlie muttered quietly, also turning his gaze away. His body was trembling even more than usual this time, and that strange warmth spread even further, radiating from his lower belly throughout his entire body. He needed to calm down. He just had to. And he needed to find a way out of here—fast. Make this nerd figure things out. But it was damn hard to do that with all these new emotions and sensations messing with his head.

— I was thinking… — Charlie’s voice wavered, suddenly softer, and he swallowed, trying to force down the lump in his throat. The forest around them went silent as if it was listening. Greg didn’t take his eyes off him, and Charlie felt heat creeping up his cheeks. “No, why the hell do I have to say this at all? Ugh… fuck, I’m blushing again! What the fuck! I was just…”

— Well? Spit it out already, — Greg said, stepping closer, and Charlie flinched in surprise. His voice sounded too confident, too deep, too… masculine.

Charlie hated that. Hated all this shit. Ever since breaking up with his ex, who never shut up about what a “real man” should be like, he despised hearing that kind of tone. And honestly, though he’d never admit it, a lot of the bullying he’d dumped on Greg lately had come from those bottled-up frustrations. From trying to be someone else. Someone who didn’t have to pretend to be a tough, uncaring asshole all the time. Someone who didn’t have to keep up a reputation by beating up weaker guys whenever he felt like shit. Someone he couldn’t even fully understand himself.

— Well? — Greg repeated, leaning in a little closer.

His shadow covered Charlie’s small, fragile frame, and something inside him twisted unpleasantly. There was something wrong about this. About the fact that this fucking nerd—someone Charlie used to mock—was now towering over him like a damn Apollo.

— Baby, please… — Charlie—no, Charlotte—said it, feeling her knees go weak, forced to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. That face, the one that now both attracted and terrified her. Her eyes widened, and her lips instinctively pursed forward, almost as if asking for a kiss. — Don’t do this… I… I’m scared…

“Fuck… What… What the hell is wrong with me?! God! Why did I say that? Why the fuck am I even scared? It feels like everything around me is closing in! Why does it feel like… like he should be protecting me?!”

The panic surged inside her, but then—suddenly—it was gone.

Greg pulled her into his arms.

His warmth enveloped her, and the feeling was so… wrong. But at the same time—terrifyingly pleasant. He held her firmly, confidently, like he had always done it, and Charlotte tried to pull away, but her own hands only clung to the fabric of Greg’s shirt.

“Fuck, what is wrong with me?” The panic flared up again, but there was something about this closeness… something soothing. It wasn’t just about another body being near—it felt… safe.

Fucking irony. Charlie, who had always been the one in control, the one who pushed, who mocked guys like Greg… Now stood there, head tilted up, staring into his face, feeling her lips tremble, her body pressing closer to this man.

— It’s okay, Sherry. — Greg’s voice was soft but reassuring, which pissed Charlotte off, snapping her back to reality. This wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t some illusion.

— Don’t call me that! — Charlotte snapped, her voice rising to a shriek as she finally pushed him away. Her thin, fragile fingers clutched at her own curls. Her chest reminded her of itself again with a sharp sway, and the way her hardened nipples brushed against the fabric of her sweater. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and for some reason, at that moment, she wished she was.

— I’m not okay! Nothing is okay! — The words came pouring out, her lips trembling even more, and suddenly, she realized she was crying. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, and damn it, this was the most humiliating moment of her life.

Greg remained silent. He just looked at her with those now deep brown eyes—too expressive, too intense. The eyes of the nerd she had always teased, who no longer looked like a nerd. On the contrary, he seemed too confident, too calm, and that, strangely, made her feel steadier. And that infuriated her. It scared her.