Svetlana Betrays Alejandra
The New World of SwapTech
chapter 15
by
deleted_user
The Machine hummed, hungry. Svetlana stood before it, platinum hair gleaming like a blade, and raised one hand for silence.
“Before I choose,” she said, ice-blue eyes scanning the semicircle, “I tell you truth. No more secrets.” She pointed at Alejandra, who stood between Ruth and Magnus, neon nails suddenly still. “She confirmed it. The five of them—Alejandra, Javi, Ruth, Laurel, Magnus. They call themselves Originals. Pact to never touch each other in Machine. To vote together. To control game.”
Chaos.
“What?” Bruce’s tattoos rippled as he surged forward. “You’re telling me there’s a fucking alliance?”
“Confirmed,” Svetlana lied smoothly, watching Alejandra’s face drain of color. “She told me everything in exchange for safety. But I don’t bargain with liars.”
“You bitch!” Alejandra screamed, switching to rapid-fire Spanish, curls bouncing as she lunged. “Mentirosa! I never—”
Javi caught her by the arm, scarred hand gripping her bicep, but his eyes were on Svetlana, murderous. “You’re dead,” he said quietly. “When I get out of here, you’re—”
“You’re going nowhere, cowboy,” Svetlana cut in. “Alejandra and Javi. Into pods. Now.”
Security stepped forward, bulky and black-suited. Bruce laughed, deep and brutal. “Oh, this is beautiful. The gym rat and the ranch hand. Swap ‘em.”
“No,” Magnus boomed, dinner-plate hands raised. “This is treachery. She manipulated—”
“Shut up, Viking,” Svetlana snapped. “Or you’re next.”
The pods hissed open. Alejandra’s chest heaved, defined abs trembling with rage, neon nails digging into her palms. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed at Svetlana. “In any body, I’ll kill you.”
“Promises, promises,” Svetlana smiled.
They climbed in. Javi tipped his Stetson once, sharp jawline set, before the glass sealed him inside. Alejandra was already crying—tears of fury, streaking her olive skin.
Blue light. The scream of metal. Then silence.
The pods opened.
Javi stepped out first, and the Stetson sat wrong on a head of thick dark curls. He was 5’3” now, 105 pounds of coiled gymnast power, 32C chest heaving under his own western shirt that suddenly hung loose in some places and strained tight in others. He looked down at his hands—small, manicured, neon nails glinting—and let out a sound that wasn’t human.
“What,” he said, and it was Alejandra’s voice, high and fierce, coming out of his mouth. He touched his chest, felt the unfamiliar weight, the softness where hard muscle should be. “No. No, no, no.” He spun, saw his old body stepping out of the other pod, and snarled with teeth that felt too small.
Alejandra stretched in Javi’s 6’2” frame, rolling the scarred forearms, cracking the calloused knuckles. She adjusted the Stetson low over her eyes—her eyes now, sharp and male, staring out from under the brim with furious delight. She grabbed her own flat chest, felt the lean muscle, the power of long legs.
“Ay,” she said in Javi’s baritone, experimental and rough. “I’m tall. Look at me—I’m tall.” She spun on cowboy boots that suddenly fit, sun-bronzed skin rippling with lean muscle that wasn’t hers but was. “I have a dick. I have a scar.” She pointed at her own face, now staring back from Javi’s body. “You look good on me, cowboy. Real pretty.”
Javi—in Alejandra’s compact gymnast body—tried to swing at her. The reach was wrong, the center of gravity catastrophic. He stumbled, 105 pounds of female muscle lacking the torque he was used to. He caught himself on the Machine, breathing hard, and when he looked up, his own eyes stared back from under his own hat, foreign and female.
“Give it back,” he growled, but his voice came out breathy, fierce but high. “Give me my body back.”
“Make me,” Alejandra challenged, adjusting her belt—his belt—around lean hips. She stepped closer, using his height, his shadow, to loom over him. “Or should I say... ma’am?”
Javi flinched like he’d been shot.
“Oh, this is premium,” Zelda said, filming with Magnus’s former phone. “Content gold.”
Ruth was crying, hugging herself in the oversized hoodie. “We’re exposed,” she whispered. “She told everyone. We’re targets now.”
Laurel’s glasses had slipped down her nose, forgotten. She looked at Magnus, at Ruth, and back to Javi and Alejandra—now trapped in each other’s skins, the betrayal ringing in their ears. “She burned us,” Laurel said softly. “Public execution.”
“And I enjoyed it,” Svetlana announced, turning to the remaining players. “Now you know who plots against you. Vote wisely.”
Javi stood trembling in his new small frame, looking up at his own body, which was now grinned down at him with Alejandra’s fierce smile. He touched his own face—her face—felt the soft skin, the smaller jaw.
“I’m going to fix this,” he said in that alien voice, high and passionate. “And then I’m ending her.”
“Get in line,” Alejandra said, adjusting his hat. “Ladies first.”
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January 29
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