Strange dream

I already have a lot of stories that are essentially interconnected for me, so I decided to create a separate folder for them: https://www.patreon.com/collection/815616

And for context, it all started, of course, with this: https://www.patreon.com/posts/why-am-i-so-to-1-114118890

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"Oh God... what a strange dream. And so vivid... Seems like all these thoughts about what it would be like to be a girl, and that kink of mine, which I've gotten so carried away with, are starting to mess with my brain, haha... Just imagine... I swapped bodies with some chick from my town, rode the metro, brushed my hair in front of everyone, and at the end of the dream, I was worrying about how to deal with documents and re-register everything under my name, haha, because she didn’t have anything at all… yeah, it was tough, and besides, she’d have to agree to transfer my apartment and car ownership..." I thought, lying on the couch, savoring the lazy drowsiness for a while longer, recalling every tiny detail of my dream.

The dream was too vivid. I felt as if I sensed every gaze of the people sitting in the metro car, feeling out of place in these men’s clothes and this body. Although, nothing seemed strange about it, but for me… something was way too real, even for my imagination. I reached out and rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off this lingering sensation.

But instead of the expected rough, slightly stubbly face, I felt smooth skin. A sudden chill ran through my whole body, making me shiver. Something was wrong. I jumped up, my heart pounding faster. My fingers reflexively touched a thin fabric—a t-shirt, the kind I would never choose myself. Hair, long hair, brushed against me, just like in that dream!

“Shit,” I breathed out, not recognizing my own voice. High-pitched, soft... almost feminine?!

Carefully looking around, I noticed I was lying in a room I had never been in before. Everything felt foreign—from the bright red pillows on the couch to the posters on the walls featuring some popular artists. Automatically, I glanced down at my hands... and froze. No familiar large palms and bony fingers. Thin, delicate hands of a girl looked back at me from below.

“No-no-no… this is impossible,” I mumbled, but the words escaped my lips in a voice I didn’t recognize. My heart was racing wildly, panic building up more and more.

“Calm down, stay calm,” I tried to reassure myself, closing my eyes tightly. Maybe, if I didn’t look, everything would go back to normal? I took a few deep breaths, listening to my own breathing... and again, that light, almost gentle exhale. Damn, this couldn’t be real.

I opened my eyes and looked down at myself. The same slender, feminine silhouette. I was wearing a tight t-shirt with some face on it, and black skinny pants that hugged my hips—everything screamed that I looked nothing like before. I carefully touched my face, exhaling when I felt the same features I had sensed in the dream: a small nose, high cheekbones, and... soft lips.

“Oh my God...” I murmured. Something inside me started to crumble, as if my whole reality was cracking at the seams. I desperately looked around for a mirror. And of course, there it was, hanging on the opposite wall.

I stood up—swaying slightly due to the unfamiliar center of gravity. My entire body moved differently, more fluidly. Every movement, every step felt strangely light. Approaching the mirror, I froze, staring at the reflection. A girl was looking back at me—a beautiful one, with large eyes and long dark hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. I couldn’t believe that this... was me.

“What the hell...” I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away from my new face. The girl in the mirror mirrored every one of my movements. I raised my hand—she did the same. I ran my fingers over my lips—soft lips twitched, and I felt the cool touch on my skin.

I frantically grabbed my chest, feeling the small, firm shapes squeezing under my fingers. This was all real. And then it hit me. This wasn’t a dream.

“No-no-no! This can’t be real!” I shouted, and again, my own voice, high and melodic, only amplified the horror.

And suddenly, fragments of that same dream—or... not a dream?—flashed through my mind. I remembered riding the metro, looking at my new reflection in the window, feeling the stares of strangers. Their gazes… how could I forget that? The strange feeling of awkwardness as I tried to act normally, but every gesture betrayed me. It was so real.

“I... did I really… swap places?” I whispered, feverishly glancing around the unfamiliar room. Everything looked as if an ordinary girl lived here. But who was she? And where was I? Most importantly, where was my body?!

Panic surged again. My phone! Remembering, I rushed to the bedside table and found it there. Unlocking it with a face scan, I saw the photo gallery. My heart started racing again. I scrolled through the gallery... and saw HER—me?

In every picture, it was the same girl who stared at me from the mirror. There she was, smiling with her friends. There she was standing in a café, holding a cup of coffee and laughing. And there—taking a selfie in front of a mirror, wearing some tight top and short shorts. It looked like I was still in the same city I had always lived in… or maybe not? I needed to contact her.

And then, the phone vibrated, snapping me out of my daze. A message. I opened it, and a simple yet terrifying text appeared on the screen: “How does it feel to be in my place?”

I froze. Someone knew about this?! What the hell?! Although… I’d told a lot of people about my fantasies, but, damn it! They were just dreams, sexual fantasies, nothing more! With trembling fingers, I started typing a reply, but didn’t get a chance—another message arrived instantly.

“Let’s meet at Bangls Café in an hour. I’ll explain everything. And you’d better not be late… girl =)”

My heart started pounding again. Bangls Café? Damn, where is that?! Oh God, could this really be happening!