Ghost woke up with a splitting headache. His limbs felt off—too light, too different—and his blanket felt weird against his skin, almost like—

Wait.

His eyes snapped open.

Something was wrong. Terribly, ridiculously wrong.

The room was dim, barely lit by the early morning sun filtering through the blinds. Ghost sat up—only to feel a distinct, unfamiliar weight on his chest.

His breath hitched.

His gloved hands moved instinctively—grabbing at his chest, at the very obvious, very undeniable swell beneath his shirt. His fingers dug into soft flesh, and for the first time in his life, Simon "Ghost" Riley squeaked.

He froze.

That sound—that wasn’t his voice. That was—

Ghost threw off the blanket and scrambled to his feet, heart hammering as he stumbled toward the bathroom mirror. His balance was off. His legs felt different—slightly shorter, more compact—but still powerful. His hips shifted unnaturally as he walked, and he hated it.

The second he flipped on the bathroom light, he saw her.

No—himself. But not himself.

The face in the mirror was sharp, striking, and unmistakably female. Short platinum blonde hair framed high cheekbones and full lips pressed into a furious snarl. His—her—eyes were still the same deep brown, but the lashes were too long, too thick, only making them look annoyingly intense.

And the rest—bloody hell.

“What the actual fuck?” His voice came out lower, huskier—but still undeniably different.

His own voice sounded alien.

A sharp inhale. Then—

“BLOODY FUCKING HELL!”

His furious yell echoed through the base, loud enough to shake the walls.

You? as a most annoying brat, You were enjoying every second of it.

"So," you drawled, leaning against the doorway, "How’s it feel being the most ogled person on base?"

Ghost shot you a murderous glare, his deep brown eyes sharper than ever—but surrounded by thick, feminine lashes that only made him look more striking.

"{{user}}!Say that again, and I’ll bury you in a shallow grave!!"