ReMod App ~ Just A Little Older….

Ryan was tired of being treated like a kid. He was 18 now—legally an adult, graduated from high school, and already set to start college in the fall. And yet, here he was again at the family’s annual summer BBQ… squeezed between sticky-fingered five-year-olds and juice boxes at the dreaded “kids table.”

He watched with envy as the adults—his uncles, aunts, and older cousins—lounged comfortably under the shade, sipping beers, trading work gossip, and talking politics. That’s where he belonged.

Frustrated, Ryan pulled out his phone and opened the ReMod app, a new program that let users temporarily adjust their physical age. “Just a little older,” he muttered, dragging the age slider with his thumb up to 32. Still young, but old enough to finally be taken seriously.

Just before he could hit “Confirm,” a pair of little blurs zoomed past him. SMACK! Shane barreled into his leg, and Beth clipped his elbow mid-sprint, sending his finger skidding across the screen.

“HEY!” Ryan shouted, but it was too late.

CHANGES CONFIRMED

His stomach dropped. He looked down in horror as a golden shimmer passed over his body. Within seconds, his skin began to sag and tighten in all the wrong places. His arms thickened, his chest expanded—and not in a gym-bro kind of way—and a white beard began to bloom across his face. His belly rounded out, pressing against his shirt until he finally peeled it off in a sweat. By the time the transformation stopped, he looked every bit the late-50s/early-60s retiree now chuckling awkwardly at a phone he could barely see without squinting.

The adults looked over, startled. “Uh… who invited Uncle Rick’s friend?” someone muttered.

Ryan blinked behind new glasses, still clutching his phone, now with stiff fingers. He glanced over at the kids table—juice boxes and crayons and all—and realized: he probably wouldn’t be welcomed there anymore either.

Beth ran up and gave him a quick hug. “You look like Santa now!” she giggled.

Ryan let out a defeated sigh and settled back in his chair. At least the adults offered him a cold beer this time.

Stolen Reflection

The sunlight poured into the room through the half-open blinds, casting warm stripes across the sheets. Grace groaned softly, her head pounding from the cocktails she’d had the night before. Her limbs felt weird—longer, heavier—and her throat was dry. She reached up to rub her eyes, but something felt… off.

Her hand. It wasn’t hers.

She blinked harder and slowly sat up, the sheet falling away from her chest—and revealing, with sickening clarity, that there was no chest. No soft curves. Just a flat plane of light hair and defined muscle. Her breath caught.

“No,” she whispered in a voice that wasn’t hers. It was deeper, huskier, and completely male.

She scrambled out of bed, heart pounding. Her legs were longer. Hairier. The room was unfamiliar—definitely not her place—but her focus was locked on the full length mirror leaning against the wall on the other end of the room.

She walked toward it slowly, like approaching a wild animal. And then she saw him—herself?—in the mirror.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Strong legs. A hairy chest tapering down to a stomach that was fit but not chiseled. Unshaven jaw. Disheveled dark hair. And between her legs—

“Oh my god,” she said, backing away, hands instinctively moving to cover herself. Her voice trembled.

“What the hell is happening?!”

That’s when she saw the note on the nightstand. Handwritten on a cocktail napkin.

“Don’t freak out. My name’s Henry—but that’s your name now, I guess. I’ve been body hopping for a while. Yours looked like a nice life. Don’t worry—you’ll get used to mine. He’s healthy, decent looking, and no one will suspect a thing. Welcome to your new body, Grace. -H”

Her knees buckled, and she sat on the bed, her hands shaking.

He’d taken her life. Her body. And left her trapped in his.

She looked at the mirror again, locking eyes with the stranger staring back. Her eyes—but they weren’t hers anymore.

This was only the beginning.

Island Boys

I still wasn’t used to the weight of my new body.

The broad shoulders, the thick, muscular legs, the voice that rumbled from my throat like distant thunder—I’d wake up every morning, stare into the mirror, and half expect to see my old self blinking back at me. But instead, I saw Gabe: six-foot-something, golden tan, and annoyingly handsome even with bedhead.

Two months ago, I was Jessica Moore, president of Kappa Delta, pre-law student, and queen of campus fashion. Now? I was trapped in the jock body of Gabe fucking Thompson, a junior in Sigma Tau with a finance major and a dumbass shark tattoo on my thigh. And worst of all? I had his damn friends too.

We hadn’t planned to stick together, but the Great Shift left us little choice. Somehow, every girl in my sorority house had ended up in a frat guy’s body—and every guy in Sigma Tau had ended up as a Kappa Delta girl. A cruel cosmic joke. And yet, here we were—still taking our summer trip to Hawaii like nothing had happened.

“Yo, Jess,” Dylan (well, Amanda, now in Dylan’s body) called to me from down the beach, grinning through Dylan’s chiseled face. “Get in the damn water!”

I gave a half-hearted wave. “In a sec!”

They were all adjusting better than I expected. Maria—now in Owen’s body—had already mastered doing flips off the rocks. Chloe, in Max’s lean frame, had started flirting with locals like she’d been born with that smile. And me? I was still trying to figure out how to walk without my thighs rubbing together. How the hell do guys deal with this bulk?

I glanced down at the beer in my hand, warm from the sun, then at the tangle of tanned, shirtless bodies around me. I wasn’t Jessica anymore, not on the outside. But I’d be damned if I let that stop me from enjoying this trip.

Even if I had to do it with a guy’s voice and balls.

I exhaled, popped the tab, and jogged down to the water.

“Alright,” I muttered, “island boy it is.”

One Weekend, One Body, One Life

They called it the Great Shift. A cosmic event no one predicted, no one understood, and no one could reverse. In an instant, nearly everyone on Earth swapped bodies with someone else. I was brushing my teeth in my dorm when it hit. A blink, a wave of dizziness—and suddenly, I was staring into the mirror over my parents’ sink, looking at my dad’s stunned reflection.

That was nearly a year ago.

Now, I’m Robert Mathers. Forty-eight years old. Insurance adjuster. A man whose body groans when he stands too fast and who wakes up with a sore back more mornings than not. But inside? I’m still Tiffany. Nineteen. Loves iced coffee, sad indie playlists, and lavender nail polish.

When I found out there was a support group called Daughters of the Shift (DOTS for short) for girls who ended up in one of their parents’ bodies—it sounded ridiculous. But then I realized: what else wasn’t ridiculous anymore?

That’s how I ended up on this camping trip with seven other “dads” who, like me, are actually the daughters of the bodies they’re now in. The world may have adapted to the Great Shift, but sometimes, we need to be around people who really get it. So here we are, squatting and flexing on the muddy banks of a lake like a bunch of off-duty wrestlers, trying to pretend this is normal.

I’m in the middle of the front row in the photo we took. I remember the moment clearly. The sun was hot over my balding head. Maddy—throwing up a peace sign in her dad’s gym body—kept joking about how she finally understood why her dad used to grunt getting in and out of the car. Stephanie tried to pose like a Baywatch model in her dad’s heftier frame. I laughed so hard I almost pulled something.

The world hasn’t ended. It just… shifted.

My friends still talk to me. They know it’s me. It’s not weird to them anymore to hear my dad’s voice answer FaceTime with a bubbly “Hey babes!”. We all had to accept this new reality. It’s only weird when I forget how I look—and then catch a glimpse in the mirror and wonder when my dad started wearing pink flip-flops.

After dinner, we all sat around the fire, roasting marshmallows and swapping horror stories—like the first time one of us accidentally walked into the men’s locker room and completely forgot where we were supposed to be. Or when I tried to do yoga and heard my own hip pop like a bag of microwave popcorn.

But there were softer moments, too. Quiet ones. Stephanie told us how her dad cried the first time he had to brush her hair. Maddy admitted she wears her old perfume on the inside of her dad’s shirt collar.

And me? I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like this body is mine. But in that moment—laughing around a fire, surrounded by people who saw me no matter what I looked like—I felt something close to peace.

The Shift may have taken my body. But not my identity. Not my memories. And not my future.

Even if it’s lived in size 12 sandals.

ReMod App ~ Beta Test

Eli was the kind of college sophomore who went unnoticed. Thin, pale, always buried in a book or a coding assignment, he blended into the background of campus life like an overexposed photograph. He wasn’t bitter about it—at least not openly—but deep down, he often wished he could stand out, just once. Not for his grades. Not for fixing someone’s broken laptop. But for himself.

One night, while scrolling a sketchy tech forum he frequented, Eli stumbled upon a post titled “Patch Yourself IRL – Beta Testers Wanted.” It linked to an unlisted app called ReMod. The icon was simple—an outlined silhouette of a person with sliders underneath. Thinking it was a joke, Eli downloaded it anyway.

The app opened with a message:

“Welcome, Eli. Make the changes you’ve always wanted. This is your body. Your life.”

At first, it seemed like a novelty. There were sliders for everything—height, muscle mass, skin tone, jawline sharpness, even “social confidence” and “voice timbre.” He laughed and maxed out a few just to see what would happen.

As he submitted the changes, the screen on his phone began to pulse and vibrate. And then he felt it.

A warmth rushed through his body like a shockwave. His vision blurred, his limbs tingled. He stumbled to the mirror above his desk—and stopped.

The reflection staring back wasn’t the Eli he’d always known.

His once-slender frame had bulked up, muscles swelling beneath his skin like he’d spent years training. His chest was broad, his abs defined. His jaw was sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced. He looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover—or at least a dating app’s top results.

 

He stepped back in disbelief, his hand running across his now-chiseled torso, tracing the lines he’d only ever seen on models. His hair was lighter, his eyes more intense. Tattoos adorned his biceps and forearm—he hadn’t chosen those, had he?

It was him, but… a new version.

Eli 2.0.

He smirked at the mirror, a little stunned at how natural it felt. And then he looked back at his phone wondering what other changes he could make with the ReMod app.