Becoming Chloe The Remote of Transformation chapter 6 by deleted_user

Ethan stared at the Morphisizer, its light pulsing a lazy, patient rhythm. The options still swam in his head—the cheerleader, the genius, the artist, the jock—but they were all just static. He needed a wildcard. He needed a test subject with a truly unique baseline, someone who lived and breathed in a way fundamentally different from his own existence. His mind flashed to Chloe, his old babysitter, now a college student. Her sarcastic, wiry energy had always fascinated him, an almost manic restlessness that seemed to power her every move. With a gulp, he closed his eyes and pushed the button, holding Chloe's image in his mind.

A jolt, like a static shock, shot up his arm and into his body. It wasn’t the searing pain he’d braced for, but a deep, internal hum. His world went white for a moment, then came back in a kaleidoscope of dizzying sensations. His bones began to sing a strange, high-pitched tune. He felt his shoulders narrow, a subtle but undeniable change. The familiar, bony knobs of his hips dissolved into a softer, more rounded curve. A strange, taut feeling stretched across his stomach as his muscles seemed to knit themselves into a leaner, more compact package.

Then came the chest. It was a gradual, almost shy blooming. A gentle pressure, a warmth that spread outward from his sternum. Two small, firm mounds pushed forward, his nipples hardening with a startling sensitivity. The feeling was completely alien, a subtle weight that settled on his torso. He was used to the sag of an oversized t-shirt, not the subtle tug of newly formed flesh. He could feel his old, familiar muscles softening, giving way to the lithe, toned framework of a body that ran five miles a day for fun. He felt the length of his legs shorten, the width of his feet shrink, and a weird, airy lightness settle into his frame. It was like his body was being emptied and refilled with something new, something that vibrated with an electric, nervous energy.

The transformation took a solid minute, and when the humming stopped, Ethan’s lungs gasped in a breath of air that felt cleaner, sharper than any he’d ever taken. He opened his eyes and looked down. His hands were smaller, the knuckles more delicate, the skin smoother. The veins were a faint blue thread beneath the surface. He scrambled to his feet, his limbs feeling strangely disconnected, like he was learning to walk for the first time. He stumbled to the full-length mirror leaning against his wall.

Staring back at him was not Ethan Quinn. It was a perfect, pixel-for-pixel copy of Chloe. The mop of brown hair, now a sleek, long ponytail, was his. The mischievous glint in her eyes, however, was all hers. Her body was exactly as he’d remembered it: lean and compact, with not an ounce of excess fat. Her athletic 32B chest sat high and firm, and a faint, toned line ran down her stomach. Her hips, though not wide, had a feminine curve to them that felt incredibly strange. Her nose, previously an average masculine shape, was now a small, perfectly sculpted button.

A new sensation, a feeling of endless, coiled energy, tightened in his stomach. He felt an urge to move, to stretch, to run until his lungs burned. It was a restless, antsy feeling that made his old body feel like a sluggish tank in comparison. He moved his arms and legs, and they responded with a grace and speed that felt both exhilarating and deeply unsettling. He was a finely tuned machine, a body built for motion and a mind suddenly overflowing with sarcastic comebacks he didn't even know he had.