Cleaning up Danny The Remote of Transformation chapter 8 by bodyswapbabe

Ethan stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the towering figure of Estelle squatting clumsily on the carpet with a pair of Daniel Tiger training pants around his ankles and a very familiar, toddler-like whimper rising in his throat.

“…Danny?” Ethan whispered.

“I hadda accident,” he said in Estelle’s breathy, adult voice, eyes wide and glassy.

A small, mortified puff of breath escaped Ethan. He looked down the hallway, toward the kitchen, where their parents had already disappeared. Then back at the impossible sight in front of him: a six-foot-tall woman with large breasts, tanned skin, and flawless cheekbones, hunched like a toddler with a messy pull-up around his knees.

And it was up to Ethan to fix this. Or at least keep it from spiraling out of control.

“Okay, buddy,” Ethan said cautiously, crouching down while carefully keeping his eyes away from Danny’s. “Let’s, uh, get you cleaned up. Then we’ll find you some pants that… actually fit.”

Danny beamed and threw his arms out. “Yay!”

There was no hesitation in his movement. He expected to be picked up. And, horrifyingly, Ethan obliged—wrapping his arms awkwardly around the curvy adult frame of Estelle’s body and hefting him to his feet. The scent of expensive conditioner clung to Estelle’s long hair, now matted slightly from sweat and the static of lying on the carpet. Ethan tried not to think about the other smells.

He shuffled them both into the upstairs bathroom and flicked the fan on to drown out any lingering… ambiance.

“Okay, arms up,” Ethan muttered.

Danny obeyed. Ethan pulled off what was left of the tiny blue T-shirt stretched obscenely tight across the top-heavy torso. It had been one of Danny’s favorites—featuring a cartoon dinosaur with sunglasses—but the neck hole had split wide open when Estelle’s shoulders popped into existence. The rest of the fabric barely hung together, like tissue paper clinging to a beach ball.

The ruined training pants followed.

Ethan kept his focus as clinical as he could. This wasn’t Estelle, he told himself. This was Danny. Danny, who just happened to be in Estelle’s very grown-up body, and had no idea he wasn’t supposed to be.

Still, the logistics were humiliating. Ethan grabbed a towel and a pack of baby wipes from under the sink. He worked quickly, trying to keep averted eyes and maintain composure while Danny chattered cheerfully about how much he liked peanut butter sandwiches and trucks and going to the zoo.

“I wanna see monkeys again,” he said, voice sing-song and bright. “The ones with the red butts!”

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” Ethan muttered, dabbing carefully, his face flushed redder than a baboon's ass. “Let’s just get through this first.”

When the cleanup was finally done, Ethan wrapped him in the towel like a toga and stepped out of the bathroom for a breather. He leaned against the wall, heart thudding.

“I need pants,” Danny called sweetly.

Ethan coughed. “Okay! Pants. Right.”

There was no way in hell anything of Danny’s would fit that body. Estelle’s clothes were at her own house, and borrowing them would raise too many questions. That left… his mom.

He padded down the hall and peeked around the corner toward the master bedroom. No sounds. Good. His parents were still… busy. Ethan tried not to think about that too hard.

He slipped into the room, opened his mom’s dresser, and began rooting through leggings, pajama pants, and workout gear. Eventually, he found a pair of soft, high-waisted cotton lounge pants—something stretchy enough to accommodate hips Estelle-sized.

He grabbed a plain sports bra while he was at it, just in case.

“Here we go,” he whispered, easing the drawer shut and tiptoeing back into the hallway.

Danny was still waiting in the bathroom, towel now falling off one shoulder. He grinned when he saw Ethan.

“You found me pants!”

“Yup,” Ethan said, ushering him into the guest bedroom where there was more space. “Let’s get you dressed.”

Danny didn’t resist as Ethan helped guide his arms into the bra and tug it down into place. It was clearly too small—it squeezed tightly around the generous curve of Estelle’s chest—but it was better than nothing. The pants followed, with Danny lifting one shapely leg and then the other. They clung like leggings, hugging every curve, but stayed up.

Danny bounced happily on the balls of his feet, the bra straps digging slightly into his shoulders.

Danny turned toward the mirror. For a long moment, he stared at his reflection—Estelle’s reflection. Then he made a goofy face and laughed.

“Blehhhhh!” he said, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. “I’m silly!”

Ethan gave a shaky smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

He had no idea how long this would last. Or whether he could even undo it. But somehow, the world hadn’t imploded. His parents hadn’t noticed. The TV remote prototype hummed silently in his back pocket like it had done nothing more than change the channel.

And now, a toddler in the body of a curvaceous twenty-something was humming the Paw Patrol theme and poking at his own belly button through a borrowed tank top.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair and slumped into the chair beside the bed.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Deep breaths. No big deal. Just… you turned your three-year-old brother into a stacked Instagram model and everyone’s acting like that’s normal. No biggie. Totally fine. You’re just… living in a cartoon now.”

Danny climbed into his lap without asking and nestled against him. Ethan stiffened as the full weight of an adult body settled on him, but Danny just yawned and snuggled closer, fingers curled around Ethan’s shirt.

“I love you,” he said drowsily.

Ethan swallowed hard.

“…Love you too, kid.”

He looked down at the remote in his hand, his thumb grazing the worn-down rubber of the ‘Transform’ button.

This thing wasn’t just dangerous. It was rewriting reality. Nobody noticed. Nobody remembered.

Only him.

And somehow, that was the most terrifying part of all.