New Beginnings

December 31st, 2025 – 11:58 PM

“I don’t know, James. It just feels like every year I say I’ll change and then I don’t.”

James and Madeline stood outside in the busy street festival their local town was holding. They decided to venture out this year instead of staying inside to watch the ball drop on tv.  Even though they were brave enough to be out in public on New Years Eve, they felt extremely awkward and out of place.

“Yeah. But this year’s gonna be different, right?” James said it like a joke. But he was hoping she’d say yes.

Madeline gave him a look. “How?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we stop being afraid of everything.” His voice cracked, and he grimaced. “We always talk about how we want to be… more.”

“More what?”

James shrugged, the movement stiff in his dress shirt. “Confident. Assertive. In control. Just… not the weird losers everyone looks down on anymore.”

Madeline let that settle. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her too-tight dress. “You really think everyone sees us as losers?”

“Come on Madeline,” he replied. “We’re never invited to anything. Nobody interacts with us at work unless they need something. We’re the bottom rung. If we didn’t have each other, we’d be sunk.”

“Yeah,” she reluctantly agreed. “I glad we do have each other though. Do you think people like us can just change?”

“No.” He laughed once, dryly. “But we say we will. That’s what New Year’s is for, right? Empty promises.”

She smiled. “Okay. Let’s promise. One last time.”

James turned toward her. “Deal.”

They held out their pinkies. Dorky, yeah. But it was their thing.

“This is our year,” he said.

“No more waiting. No more being scared,” she said.

“No more being passive,” he added.

“No more being ignored,” she finished.

They linked pinkies. Cold skin against cold skin as the rest of the town celebrated 2026.

---

Madeline – January 1st, 2026 – 9:14 AM

Madeline groaned as her head throbbed.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. Her brain felt… tight. Like a pressure behind her forehead that wouldn’t go away.

Did I even drink that much?

She barely remembered having a couple of sugary cocktails at the festival. She’d let James finish his fast, like usual. He always drank more vigorously. She just liked to watch people and sip on hers.

Still, her mouth was dry and her head was heavy. She thought back to the night before. To hanging out with James while everyone around them had a good time.

What kind of loser gets dressed up just to stand around like a scared little girl?

She winced. Where did that come from?

She sat up slowly, rubbing her temple.

You looked pathetic in that dress.

It echoed inside her head, slick and sharp. Cruel, almost. It was her own voice, but not. 

And James looked even worse.

“What the hell?” she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. Her head still pounded. Maybe this was a weird hangover spiral of self doubt.

She reached for her phone and saw a missed call from James.

Let him panic. You’ve carried him long enough.

She almost laughed. Jesus, what is wrong with me?

But she didn’t call him back. Instead, she let herself lie back against the pillows, one arm over her face. Her mind still buzzing.

It’s always been like this, hasn’t it? You’re the one who puts in effort. You’re the one who worries. James just drags along behind you, waiting for someone else to make him feel like a man.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone.

The thought was cold, but not entirely wrong.

And it kind of felt good.

It felt… deserved.

---

James – January 1st, 2026 – 9:58 AM

“Come on, come on, pick up…”

James lowered the phone from his ear. His thumb hovered over the call button again, but he didn’t press it.

He was breathing fast and his heart was hammering in his chest. Because there was no mistaking it anymore.

He looked down.

The tank top clung to small but soft curves he didn’t have yesterday. His nipples were swollen and sensitive and poked through the fabric. Even his legs seemed longer. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, pacing through the living room again, phone still clutched in one hand. The hardwood was cold beneath his bare feet.

He caught his reflection in the dark TV screen and froze.

His hair was longer than it had been an hour ago. Blonde streaks were forming near the tips, the color slowly bleeding in. His jawline was softer. His lips were rounder.

He turned away. Couldn’t look.

“What the hell is happening to me?”

He ran both hands through his thick, unfamiliar hair and winced. His fingers tangled near the roots, where it had grown heavier. He stumbled toward the hallway mirror.

“I can’t… I’m not…” His voice cracked. He tried again. “I’m not supposed to look like this.”

The voice that came out was softer than before. It was still his, but melting into something higher and breathier.

He looked down and watched, actually watched, his waist cinching in. It pulled tighter as his hips subtly rolled outward. His ass rounded, pushing back against the fabric of his sleep shorts. His posture shifted, his spine arching without thinking about it.

He stumbled back from the mirror, one hand on the wall to keep steady. Every movement felt off and foreign.

A tingling spread up his thighs, heat pooling at the base of his spine.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

His phone buzzed. It was Madeline, finally.

Her voice was snarky. “What’s up fucker?”

“Madeline?” he said, surprised at her greeting.

---

Madeline – January 1st, 2026 – 10:00 AM

“What’s up, fucker?”

There was a beat of silence on the line.

“Madeline?” James said, small and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he was talking to the right person.

Why did I say that? Why did that feel… kind of good?

“What, did you expect me to answer with ‘good morning, sunshine’?” she said, before she could stop herself. “It’s early and my head feels like it’s trying to kill me.”

“I…” he swallowed audibly. “Something’s wrong. I think something happened to us last night.”

Her grip tightened around the phone.

Okay. So it’s not just me.

“…Us?” she repeated.

“Yes, us. I’m changing, Madeline. Like, physically. Right now. My hair is getting longer and my body is…” There was a brief pause. “I don’t know what’s happening and I need you to come over. Please.”

Oh god. Oh god. He sounds terrified.

She opened her mouth to say okay, to tell him she’d be there, that she’d figure this out with him like always.

Instead, what came out was, “Are you sure you’re not just freaking out over nothing?”

Why did I say that?

“No,” James said quickly. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not imagining this. My chest hurts. My clothes don’t fit right. I don’t look like me.”

Her heart started racing.

He’s not lying. He wouldn’t lie about this.

Then why did her next thought feel so… different?

God, he’s always like this. Always falling apart and expecting you to hold him together.

“Wow,” she heard herself say. “Okay. So you’re having, what, some kind of panic attack?”

“Why are you talking to me like this?” he asked quietly.

Because I don’t know what’s happening to me and I’m scared and I can’t control what I’m saying.

“Like what?” she snapped instead.

“Like I’m stupid. Or dramatic. Or…”

“Or like I don’t have the energy to babysit you through every little crisis?” she cut in, the words sharp and fast and way too easy.

That was cruel. Why can’t I control what I’m saying.

“I’m not asking you to babysit me,” James said. “I’m scared.”

He said scared. He said it out loud. He trusts you.

“Don’t be a pussy,” she shot back. “It kind of sounds like you expect me to drop everything the second you start spiraling.”

Stop. Stop. This isn’t you.

“I thought we were in this together,” he said.

Her chest tightened painfully.

We are. We are, we are, we…

“Remember our words from last night?” she asked. “To stop being afraid. To stop being passive. To actually take charge of our lives.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“So maybe instead of calling me to freak out,” she continued, “you should try handling your own shit for once.”

That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair. Why are you pushing him away? Say you’ll go. Say it. Get dressed. Go to him.

Instead, she exhaled slowly. “Look, I’ve got stuff going on too, okay? I woke up feeling like crap and now you’re dumping this on me like I’m supposed to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. I just…”

“Just what?” she snapped. “Want me to tell you everything’s going to be okay?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’ll come by later,” she said. “Maybe. When I’ve had coffee and a shower and a minute to not deal with your meltdown.”

Later? Why are you saying later?

His voice was barely audible. “Later?”

“Yes, later. You’re not dying, James.”

I don’t know that. I don’t know anything right now.

“Okay,” he said.

“Good,” she replied. “Try not to freak out too much in the meantime.”

She hung up before he could say anything else.

Madeline stared at her phone, heart racing, stomach twisted into knots.

What did I just do?

For a moment, guilt flooded in. Then another thought slid in right behind it.

He needs to grow up eventually.

And that thought didn’t feel guilty at all.

---

James – January 1st, 2026 – 10:34 AM

He sat on the floor of his bathroom, legs splayed in front of him, back against the tub. Breathing shallow. 

His hands trembled as he touched his expanding chest. His nipples were hard and incredibly sensitive, brushing against the thin fabric of his stretched-out tank top.

He let out a soft whimper.

The sound that escaped his throat wasn’t his anymore.

His legs were smooth. His thighs had filled in, rubbing when he shifted. His hips were wider now, visibly so, forcing his shorts to ride up his ass. His waist had drawn in so tight that the rest of him looked almost cartoonish.

He pushed himself upright, gripping the edge of the sink with dainty, unfamiliar fingers. His arms looked smaller. His hair fell into his face as he leaned forward, brushing against his collarbone.

The girl in the mirror blinked back at him. Her lips were parted. 

“Stop,” he whispered, like it would help. “Please, just… stop.”

---

January 1st, 2026 – 1:23 PM

Maddie tapped her heel twice against the concrete and sighed as she stood outside of James’ front door.

“I forgot how sad this place is,” she muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest, phone dangling from one hand. Her pink dress hugged every inch of her curves, cut high on the thigh, skin exposed through the strappy sides. Her long dark hair cascaded over one shoulder, shiny and styled to perfection.

She looked like she belonged somewhere better.

I shouldn’t have come.

She glanced at the front door again. Maddie rolled her eyes and banged loud and impatiently against it.

“James! Open the damn door! If you made me get ready for this just to stand around your dumpy little apartment….”

The door creaked open.

And James stood there. Kind of.

This person filled the doorway in a way James never had. She was taller, curvier, a full chest pressed awkwardly beneath a stretched top. Her blonde hair hung down in wet waves, still messy, like she hadn’t figured out how to manage it. Her sparkly nude top and skirt clung to her figure, but the way she stood, like she wanted to disappear, undermined the effect.

Maddie smirked. “Well, shit. Look at you.”

“It’s about time you showed up,” she said. “And I didn’t have anything else to wear. All my stuff just kind of changed.”

Maddie strutted in without waiting, her heels clicking hard against the cheap flooring. She looked around with a wrinkle of her nose.

“God. This place,” she muttered, flipping her hair over one shoulder.

Jamie closed the door and crossed her arms, which only pushed her new chest up even more.

“You could’ve at least dried your hair,” Maddie said flatly.

“You could’ve stayed home,” Jamie shot back, though her voice lacked real heat.

Maddie turned, hands on her hips. “And miss seeing this disaster in person?”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “So glad your ego made the trip. What happened to us?”

Maddie stepped forward, slow, heels sharp against the floor. Jamie didn’t move.

“What happened,” Maddie said, “is we made a resolution.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, and I thought it meant maybe speaking up more. Not turning into Barbie’s evil stepsister.”

Maddie smirked. “You think this is evil?”

Jamie bit her lip. She didn’t answer.

Maddie stepped in close, pressing one finger under Jamie’s chin and tilting it up. Their faces were inches apart now.

“You’re not James anymore,” she whispered. “So stop acting like you’re scared of your own shadow.”

Jamie met her eyes. “I’m not scared.”

Maddie smiled wider. “That’s cute.”

Jamie’s tone dipped, low and dry. “You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that for a beat. The two beautiful, bitchy silhouettes facing off.

“Whatever, bitch,” Maddie conceded. “Lets get out of here.”

Jamie didn’t move.

Maddie turned at the door, hand on her hip. “Well?”

Jamie arched a brow. “Well what?”

“We’re going out,” Maddie said, like it was obvious. “You and me.”

Jamie gave her a skeptical look. “Out out?”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Yes, out out. Like fun, drunk, get laid kind of out. Maybe not in that order.”

Jamie blinked. “Wow. Subtle.”

Maddie smiled. “I don’t do subtle.”

Jamie crossed her arms again, trying not to smirk. “What if I say no?”

Maddie tilted her head, slow and smug. “You won’t.”

Jamie hesitated, chewing her lip. Then she sighed. “Fine. But I’m not wearing anything that shows my ass.”

Maddie was already walking toward the door. “Oh honey,” she said over her shoulder, “your ass is the outfit.”

Jamie groaned. “Bitch.”

Maddie grinned. “You’re learning.”

---

December 31st, 2026 – 11:58 PM

The champagne was cold, the lights were hot, and all eyes were on them.

Maddie leaned into Jamie’s side as they posed for yet another photo, their arms around each other, heels clicking as they shifted to show off their perfect curves.

Jamie’s black dress clung to her like it was painted on, her tits practically spilling over the laced-up center, long blonde hair cascading over one shoulder like some kind of Instagram wet dream. And Maddie? She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked fucking incredible. Her red sequined dress caught every flicker of light, especially with the side slits running all the way up to her hips. One smirk from her and guys would trip over themselves to refill her glass.

“Three minutes,” Jamie whispered, biting her glossed lip, eyes glittering with champagne and mischief.

Maddie didn’t look at the countdown. She looked at her best friend. “You think anyone here knows we used to be nobodies?”

Jamie giggled. “If they did, they’d never believe it.”

Maddie swirled the glass in her hand. “Remember last year? That sad little town square, standing around in those ugly-ass clothes, pretending we belonged?”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I try not to.”

“God, we were pathetic.”

“And now,” Jamie purred, “we’re everything.”

The crowd started to chant: Ten, nine, eight…

Maddie turned toward the center of the room, raising her glass. Men watched her. Girls envied her. This was their night. Their year.

“Seven, six…”

She felt Jamie’s hand slide to the small of her back, possessive, familiar.

“Five, four…”

Another flash went off. Another photo. Another perfect memory.

“Three, two…”

Maddie turned, lips brushing Jamie’s cheek.

“One!”

The room exploded into cheers and confetti. Couples kissed. Corks popped.

And in the middle of it all, two bitches—drunk, perfect, untouchable—clinked glasses with matching smirks.

“To 2027,” Maddie said.

“To us,” Jamie replied.

They drank.

They owned the room.

And this time, they didn’t make any resolutions.

They didn’t need to.