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  • Wedding Swap

    Adventure by generalrifabutin · 17 Jan 2026
  • On the morning of his wedding, Ethan, a charming but slightly self-absorbed groom, wakes up in the body of Margaret, a sharp-tongued, no-nonsense older woman attending the wedding as a friend of the bride’s family. Meanwhile, Margaret finds herself in Ethan’s youthful, athletic body, much to her horror (and secret delight). A mysterious family heirloom—a brooch Margaret insists is cursed—seems to be the culprit behind the bizarre body swap.
    Now, with only hours until the ceremony, Ethan and Margaret must navigate each other’s lives, personalities, and physical limitations to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch. Along the way, they uncover surprising truths about themselves, their relationships, and what it truly means to walk in someone else’s shoes.

    CHARACTERS

    Ethan (The Groom):
    A 28-year-old tech entrepreneur who’s confident, ambitious, and a little too focused on appearances. Ethan is madly in love with his fiancée but struggles with the pressure of being the “perfect” groom. In Margaret’s body, he’s forced to slow down, listen more, and confront his own insecurities—while also learning how to walk in heels and deal with Margaret’s arthritic knees.
    Margaret (Family Friend):
    A 67-year-old retired school principal with a sharp wit and a reputation for speaking her mind. Margaret is skeptical of Ethan’s flashy lifestyle and worries he’s not ready for marriage. In Ethan’s body, she’s overwhelmed by the energy and chaos of youth but also relishes the chance to relive her prime. Along the way, she gains a new perspective on Ethan’s love for the bride and learns to let go of her own past regrets.

    SETTING & WORLD
    A wedding ceremony

    The first thing you become aware of is the soft, floral scent of rosewater and talcum powder. It’s familiar, but not yours. The second is a deep, dull ache in your lower back, a stiffness that makes the simple act of stretching feel like a monumental task. You groan, your eyes fluttering open to the soft morning light filtering through lace curtains.

    You are in a guest room at the bride’s family’s country estate. The room is tastefully decorated in creams and pale blues. This is not your room. Your bachelor suite is on the other side of the house, all dark wood and modern fixtures.

    You push yourself up in the bed, and the world tilts. Your arms feel… weaker. Your center of gravity is off. You look down.

    A pair of wrinkled, age-spotted hands rests atop a lavender satin comforter. Long, elegant fingers adorned with a simple gold wedding band and an ornate, jade-studded brooch pinned to the front of a sensible, high-collared nightgown.

    Your heart stops. Or tries to. It’s a slower, more deliberate thump in a chest that feels… full. Soft. You bring a hand to your face, feeling the delicate lines around your eyes, the softer skin of your throat.

    A voice that is decidedly not your own—a crisp, educated alto tinged with a lifetime of authority—rasps from your throat. “What in the holy hell…”

    Memories that aren’t yours flood your mind. Images of a classroom, of stern lectures, of a quiet garden. A name surfaces: Margaret. Margaret Atwood. Retired principal. Friend of the bride’s mother. Skeptic of the groom’s “flashy nonsense.”

    You, Ethan James, are trapped in the body of a 67-year-old woman.

    Just as the panic starts to set in, the door to the guest room flies open. A young man stumbles in, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He’s wearing your favorite silk pajama bottoms and nothing else, his—your—well-toned chest heaving.

    He stares at you, his—your—face a mask of utter horror. He opens his mouth, and your own smooth baritone voice comes out, laced with a panicked, higher pitch you’ve never heard before.

    “Ethan?” the voice squeaks. “Is that… are you in there? Because I am most certainly not in here! I am in… in this!” He gestures wildly at his own pectorals, then looks at his hands—your strong, tanned hands—with disgust and a flicker of something else. Awe.

    It’s Margaret. In your body.

    Her eyes—your eyes—widen as she takes in the sight of herself, of you sitting in her bed. She points a trembling finger at the brooch pinned to your nightgown. “I told her! I told Constance that thing was cursed! Her great-aunt Agatha was a witch, I swear it! ‘Wear it for good luck at the wedding,’ she said. ‘It’s been in the family for generations.’ Generations of trouble, more like!”

    She storms over, her new long legs eating up the distance awkwardly, and leans in, peering into her own face. “Well? Say something! Don’t just sit there gawking in my skin!”

    Quick Actions:
    1. Examine yourself in the mirror on the dresser.
    2. Rip the brooch off and demand Margaret explain everything.
    3. Try to speak, to convince Margaret (in your body) that you are, in fact, Ethan.
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