Connor, Eric, and Anthony had been roommates for two years, sharing a modest three-bedroom apartment that somehow still felt spacious enough for their separate lives. Connor kept to his bedroom most evenings, headphones on, scrolling through whatever caught his interest. Eric usually claimed the kitchen, either cooking something simple or just leaning against the counter with a glass of water, staring out the window. Anthony preferred the den, sprawled on the old couch with a book or the remote in hand.

That night, the strangeness hit them all at once.

It started as a low, humming pressure behind the eyes-nothing painful, just an odd, electric wrongness that made each of them sit up straight. Connor felt it first in his scalp, a sudden tightness, then a soft weight settling across his shoulders. Eric felt it in his legs, a smooth, confining cling that hadn’t been there a second before. Anthony felt it in his hair, a sudden cascade of length and color, and the unfamiliar brush of fabric against his chest and hips.

They didn’t speak. They simply moved.

Doors opened. Footsteps converged. Within moments the three of them stood in the living room, staring at one another under the warm overhead light.

Connor was the first fully visible. His usual jeans and T-shirt were gone. In their place was a classic navy-blue sailor-style dress, the skirt falling in neat pleats to just above the knee. White cuffs circled his wrists; white trim edged the wide collar. His dark hair had been gathered into two neat pigtails, each tied with a bright red ribbon that bounced when he turned his head. He looked down at himself, then at the others, mouth slightly open.