Peter watched from their neighbors, Tom and Isabelle’s living room window, as his wife, Mable trudged over towards Peter and Mable’s house across the street to check if Tom and Isabelle had somehow ended up in their bodies.
Somehow, they had woken up in the neighbor-couple’s bodies. Even more bizarrely, Mable was in the husband, Tom’s body, and he in the wife, Isabelle’s body.
"What the hell? How did this happen?" Peter hissed to himself, not quite used to Isabelle’s womanly voice, "Why am I Isabelle?"
He walked towards the mirror in the nearby foyer and looked his reflection —no longer the peppered man he knew, but a delicate face framed by Isabelle’s shoulder-length blonde hair and bangs. He was wearing a figure-hugging buttoned black blouse and skin-tight jeans. The shock of it all tightened in his chest, and he reached up instinctively to touch the unfamiliar face that stared back at him.
He couldn't believe it. He was undeniably Isabelle, the beautiful woman who lived across the street.
He remembered the day they moved into the neighborhood three years ago. Mable was busy unpacking boxes while Peter took a break outside. That’s when he first saw Isabelle walking her dog around their cul-de-sac. She greeted him with a warm smile and they struck up a conversation.
As they chatted, Peter couldn't help but admire Isabelle's beauty up close – her shoulder-length blonde hair, green eyes, and perfect figure.
From that day on, they became friendly neighbors who would exchange pleasantries whenever they crossed paths. But nothing more than that; after all, Peter loved Mable deeply and would never do anything to jeopardize their marriage.
But now...now he was in her body. And a part of him couldn't deny the thrill of it all.
Just as his gaze traveled down to Isabelle’s chest,
he could hear Mable's footsteps crunching on the gravel path outside.
Peter quickly composed himself, smoothing down Isabelle’s blouse and jeans before turning to face his wife.
“Peter," she greeted him, her voice sounding strange and unfamiliar to her own ears, "This is insane."
"When I went to knock on our door …they —we— were acting normal. My body called me ‘Tom’ …as if nothing was wrong…" her voice shook.
Peter’s heart raced as he absorbed her words, “What do you mean, acting normal? They didn’t seem to notice anything unusual?”
Mable shook her head, her expression a mix of confusion and panic, “No!
"Maybe it was that weird storm last night," Mable suggested, trying to piece together the chaotic puzzle of their predicament, "You saw how the sky turned purple and green, right? Like something out of a horror movie."
Peter—no, Isabelle—nodded vigorously, "Right! And then the lights flickered. Maybe it… messed with something in the universe? A cosmic reset or—"
He trailed off. Peter and Mable stared at each other in a defeated silence.
Then Mable started to giggle.
“Okay, okay,” she stammered between laughs, “This is ridiculous! We're literally living a sitcom episode right now!”
Peter frowned, crossing his arms in Isabelle’s flowery blouse, “This isn’t funny, Mable. We need to figure this out. What if we can’t switch back? What if we’re stuck like this forever?”
Mable’s laughter faded, “You think anyone would even notice? Who would believe us? What do we even say?”
“I don’t know!” Peter exclaimed, pacing in circles around the room as Isabelle’s hair swished against his shoulders, “Jesus. I’m a freaking …woman.”
Mable leaned against the dresser, “Consider yourself lucky. At least she’s pretty.”
“Mable, really?” Peter didn’t want to admit to Mable that he thought so, too.
“What?! Come on. Look at us. Look at you!”
Peter—now Isabelle—sighed, running his fingers through the silky hair. He tried to ignore the sensation of Isabelle's breasts on his chest, especially with Mable standing right there in the room. He couldn't believe how surreal this situation was, and the fact that he was now inhabiting a woman's body only added to his discomfort.
Mable watched him, trying not to burst into laughter at the sight of her usually tall and masculine husband pacing around in a woman’s body.
"What's so funny?" Peter snapped, glaring at her as he covered Isabelle's ample chest with his arms.
Mable tried to control her giggles but failed miserably, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just... the look on your face."
Peter rolled his eyes, "This is not funny. I feel like I don't even know how to function in this body.”
Mable just laughed, “Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”
But Peter wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to live as Isabelle without feeling like he was betraying Mable or invading Isabelle’s privacy.
“You know, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You always said you wanted to understand me better as a woman—now you really can,” She giggled, leaning back against the dresser as Peter struggled to maintain his composure, "You might even like it."
“Like it?” Peter repeated, his voice sounding higher and more feminine than he was used to.
Mable nodded with a knowing smirk, “Yeah, Peter. You might actually enjoy being a woman.”
Peter rolled his eyes, “I highly doubt that.”
“Can you believe it? We are our neighbors! I’m Tom, the handsome husband, and you’re Isabelle, his beautiful wife. You get to experience what it’s like to be Isabelle!” Mable mused.
“I don’t want to be a wife,” Peter grumbled.
Mable just laughed, “Oh please, you can’t deny that’s what you are now.”
“Well…” Peter started to protest, but he couldn’t argue with that.
Mable’s expression softened, “I know you do. And we’ll figure out a way to switch back. But for now, why not have some fun with this?”
“Fun?” Peter repeated incredulously, “Are you serious?”
Mable shrugged, a cheeky grin plastered on her face, “Why not? It’s not like anyone will know it’s us. We can slip into their lives for a day—live like them, walk in their shoes. Think of it as a research project.”
“Research?” Peter echoed, disbelief evident on his face, “What are we, anthropologists now? This is insane.”
But even as he protested, a flicker of curiosity ignited within him. What was it like to be Isabelle? To live within her skin for a day, to see through her eyes? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
Mable grinned broadly, clearly sensing his wavering conviction, “You know you want to.”
Peter raised an eyebrow.
“Fine,” he conceded, “We can do it. But only because we have no other leads on how to switch back yet.”
Mable’s face lit up with excitement and she threw her arms around him in a tight hug, “Yes! This is going to be so much fun!"
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