There new daughter

When Alex woke up, the first thing he noticed was that the bedsheets felt wrong. Softer, somehow, too smooth against his skin. He shifted, groggy, and realized the sensation wasn’t the sheets. It was him. His body.

He sat up. The blanket fell away, and a curtain of hair, long, dark, definitely not his, slid forward over his shoulders. For a moment, he froze. Then he looked down.

The reflection in the black screen of his phone was enough to confirm it: a girl stared back at him, her eyes wide with the same disbelief tightening his throat. And if he still wasn't sure, his right hand that had instantly grab his boobs, was here to convince him.

“This has to be a dream,” he whispered, but the voice that came out wasn’t his either. Higher, breathier. It made his heart thud too fast.

Getting dressed was a disaster. His clothes didn’t fit, most of them hung wrong or pinched in places he hadn’t had to think about before. And how the fuck would dressing be easy when you randomly became a girl, cute one.

He found a hoodie, it was the only way to "hide" his breasts but he knew a wrong mouvment could be akward. And he took his baggiest jeans that now was fitting his new tights and ass. That more or less worked and he shove his hair into a clumsy ponytail to finish it.

He had a train to catch. His parents were expecting him that afternoon for lunch, and if this… whatever it was… didn’t end by then, he’d have to face them like this.

He couldn’t even imagine trying to explain it. Nobody would believe a crazy girl that think she is their boy.

The bus ride to the station was a blur of noise and sensation. The cold air on his cheeks felt sharper. The world looked brighter, somehow too much, faces, voices, the smell of coffee from someone’s cup. He could feel people looking at him, staring at him, or maybe he was imagining it. Every step, every sway of movement, felt impossibly feminine.

He kept tugging the hoodie lower, feeling exposed in a way he didn’t have words for.

When he caught his reflection again, in the bus window this time he noticed something else. The expression on his face didn’t look scared as he could think, it was calm and strong. He liked his new face more than he could accept it.

The train hummed beneath him as the landscape blurred by. He rested his head against the window and tried to think.

Would they believe him? His parents? He barely believed himself.

What if he never changed back? What if this was permanent?

The thought hit like a jolt, and he pressed his hands to his face, feeling strange new softness there. Yet even as the panic rose, there was another feeling under it—a sort of quiet, shimmering awe.

The world felt bigger. Closer. Every sound, every color, even the rhythm of his own breath, it was all new, like the world was seeing him differently too.

When the train slowed into his hometown station, he caught sight of his reflection one last time in the glass door. The girl staring back didn’t look lost anymore. Just… uncertain, but alive.

Alex, no, she took a breath and stepped off the train.

Maybe her parents wouldn’t understand. Maybe she didn’t either. But the day was still going, and she was still here, in this strange, impossible skin, with a world waiting to meet her entierly.