Bradley's Story - Chapter 1-2 (Patreon)

Hi all =)

So, this idea really drew me in! It’s not exactly a gender-bender, so sorry for that. I’m posting this for free and in open access. But if anyone’s interested, as usual, I’d be happy to hear your feedback.

In general, it’s a story about a parallel world where social roles between men and women are swapped, and a staunch supporter of traditional male values, who is successful in his masculine role, finds himself there. You could say I decided to expand this story a bit.

And yeah, about the images, I feel like this story might work better without them, but maybe I’m wrong.

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Chapter 1 - Bradley Johnson

Bradley stood by the window, nervously drumming his fingers on the windowsill. His gaze wandered across the city beyond the glass, but his thoughts were far from the beautiful view outside. Sighing heavily, he turned back toward the bed, where his girlfriend, Sarah, sat with tears shimmering in her eyes. Her voice trembled, but she still tried to speak calmly.

— I just want... I want you to understand me, Bradley. I'm not just "your girlfriend," I'm a person! I want to work, to grow. I want to have my own goals, not just the ones you set for me, — Sarah tried to sound reasonable, but her voice faltered with each word.

Bradley didn’t want to hear it. He turned away from her again, closing himself off from the conversation, which to him seemed absurd.

— Work? — he repeated, not hiding the mockery in his voice. — Your job is the house. You should be home, cooking, taking care of me. That’s what normal women do. Why do you need this ridiculous obsession with "self-development"? That’s not your business, Sarah. Stop with these "trendy" ideas, unfollow those feminists, and get this nonsense out of your head.

Sarah frowned, her lips trembling. She loved Bradley... or maybe she was with him just because she didn’t know how to be without him. Her thoughts were tangled, and with every word from Bradley, she felt more and more vulnerable. Deep inside, she understood she deserved more.

— Bradley, I... — her voice shook, and she tried to pull herself together. — I don’t want to argue, but this really matters to me. I want something more in life. I want to find myself. You can’t forbid me from just being myself, can you?

Bradley smirked, turning to her with obvious irritation. To him, this sounded like yet another foolish female whim, meaningless and stupid.

— Find yourself? — he shook his head with a sneer. — Sarah, you’ve already found yourself. You’re my girlfriend, and your role is to be with me, to support me. You’ve always known how I feel about this. A man is supposed to be the leader, the head. And a woman... well, a woman should be grateful to have the good fortune to be by the side of a strong man.

Sarah wiped her tears, but they kept rolling down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe he truly thought this way, that he didn’t see her as a person, just as his shadow. Why hadn’t she noticed this before, enjoying every minute of their relationship? Why had she closed her eyes to the fact that Bradley only saw her as an accessory to his life, not as an equal partner?

Sarah tried to find answers within herself, but at that moment, her mind was consumed by disappointment and pain. She realized that all this time she had been living in his world, playing by his rules, convincing herself that this was how it should be, that love meant sacrifice. But now her world was falling apart, and she could no longer ignore the truth.

Her face twisted in pain from this sudden realization, and she covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Her tears flowed more intensely, but Bradley was no longer moved by them. All he felt was irritation, watching her as if she were a child who couldn’t understand simple things.

— Your tears don’t affect me, Sarah. I know you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, but it won’t work. You either accept things as they are, or... — he didn’t finish when Sarah suddenly stood up and ran straight for the door, crying silently. Bradley was stunned for a moment, not expecting this from her. Usually, she would withdraw, try to find a compromise, give in.

— Sarah! — he shouted, his voice full of irritation mixed with surprise. He wasn’t used to her leaving the room during an argument, especially like this, without any explanation.

She quickly grabbed her coat and threw it over her shoulders. It was clear she was nervous, shaking, and struggling to keep it together.

— You... you... — she tried to start, but she knew it was pointless. She had spent too much time trying to make things work with him, too much time giving in. Instead of fear, anger arose, and before leaving, she stopped by the door — You... you never listened to me, Bradley! I spent years trying to be perfect for you, but it was never enough. There was always something wrong! But you know what? I’m done.

She paused, hoping he might understand.

Bradley stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sarah had never spoken to him in that tone before, and it irritated him even more.

— Done? — he finally responded, dripping with sarcasm. — Done with what? Having everything you need? Not having to work because I provide for you?

Sarah squinted, her anger rising. He hadn’t understood anything.

— You never heard me, Bradley... — Sarah stood by the door, her hand on the handle, but she hesitated, as if hoping his words would change, that he would finally understand. But nothing happened. Bradley stood there, full of self-satisfaction, convinced he was right. She sighed and slowly walked out of the apartment.

— Well, go then! — Bradley shouted after her, his voice full of rage and contempt. The door slammed shut with a deafening thud, and the room fell into silence.

Bradley remained standing in the middle of his apartment, irritated and angry. He couldn’t believe Sarah had actually left. He was sure it was temporary. "She’ll come back," he reassured himself. But the anger still lingered.

Bradley headed to the living room, where a strict, minimalist atmosphere reigned. His apartment was a reflection of his life—order and discipline in everything. Black leather sofas, a glass coffee table, business books on the shelves—nothing extra, nothing distracting. This was his ideal—his space, where everything was done his way.

He glanced at the mirror by the door. The sharp lines of his suit accentuated his lean figure. He liked how he looked—confident, successful, a man who knew what he wanted. Bradley was pleased with himself, his achievements, and who he had become.

He walked to the window, looking out at the night city, the lights flickering in the distance. Thoughts swirled in his mind. His hands trembled with tension, and his heart was beating too fast. He was angry at Sarah, very angry, but he couldn’t even show it to himself.

— I wish I lived in a world where women knew their place, — he muttered under his breath, his voice quiet but filled with anger. — Where men could be men without having to listen to all these whims and nonsense.

After Bradley spoke these words, he felt a strange weariness. All the anger and tension that had built up over the last few minutes began to slowly fade, leaving behind a void. His thoughts kept circling around what had happened. Sarah had left. But he was sure it was temporary, that she just needed some time to realize how wrong she was.

— She’ll come back, — he muttered to himself, taking another step toward the bedroom. He tried to convince himself that everything was under control, that nothing serious had happened. But deep down, something nagged at him, as if he had missed something important.

He walked over to the bed and sat on its edge, taking off his shoes. His thoughts returned to Sarah, but he quickly pushed them away. There was no point in thinking about her. She just didn’t understand how the world worked. She had to accept it, and if she couldn’t, that was her problem.

Bradley lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The air carried a light chill, but he was comfortable. Everything was familiar, predictable. He closed his eyes and with relief felt his body relax.

Chapter 2 - Awakening in a New World

The shrill sound of an alarm shattered the early morning silence, and Bradley jerked awake, reaching for his phone to turn it off. But when he grabbed it, he realized the alarm was coming from the other side of the bed, and what was in his hand wasn’t his phone at all—it was pink, glittery, and decorated with hearts.

He froze, not fully understanding what was happening. Bringing the phone closer to his eyes, Bradley noticed long nails, neatly painted in a soft pink shade. In panic, he clenched his hand into a fist, and the nails uncomfortably dug into his palm.

‘What the hell?’ he muttered, feeling anxiety build in his chest. He squinted, looking around. Everything seemed... familiar, but somehow different.

Bradley slowly sat up, feeling long hair cascade over his shoulders and down his back. His breathing quickened. Hair? — his hand instinctively reached for the back of his head, where he found a mass of soft blonde strands. He pulled one lock towards his face, and his heart skipped a beat. These aren’t my hair... this can’t be...

Just then, a loud yawn came from the other side of the bed. Bradley turned and froze when he saw who was lying next to him. He didn’t immediately recognize her, mainly because she no longer had long hair. But it was definitely her. Sprawled out like a queen on the bed was Sarah, dressed in a short pajama set, nothing like what she usually wore.

— Hey, already up? — came Sarah’s raspy voice. She turned onto her side, opening her eyes and yawning. — Well, go make breakfast, why are you sitting there like it’s your first time getting out of bed?

Bradley blinked, unable to believe his ears.

— What? — he said, trying to remain calm.

Sarah yawned again and snorted in annoyance.

— Are you deaf? Breakfast. And don’t forget to make me coffee like last time, — Sarah muttered grumpily, sitting up and picking up her phone, scrolling through it with a business-like expression, paying no attention to Bradley.

Bradley sat frozen, his heart pounding wildly, and his brain trying to process what was happening. He looked at his hands with their long pink nails, then back at Sarah, and realized that now Sarah seemed... bigger, and... stronger? Something didn’t add up.

— Sarah, what the hell?! — he shouted in a commanding voice, but Sarah barely reacted. She just snorted, as if his outrage didn’t matter at all, and continued scrolling through her phone.

— Don’t be so loud, — she threw over her shoulder without looking up. — I need to check my email before my meeting. Just go make breakfast like usual.

— What do you mean like usual? Have you lost your mind? What did you do to me, what kind of joke is this? — Bradley's voice grew louder with each word, but Sarah simply slapped her hand on the bedside table and got up, heading toward the bathroom.

— Stupid men.

Bradley froze, his brain struggling to comprehend what had just happened. No one had ever spoken to him like that, least of all Sarah. Her behavior, her tone—everything was unrecognizable. He slowly got out of bed, feeling the hem of a long nightgown catch awkwardly on his knees, making it hard to move.

— What the hell... — he muttered, looking down at his clothes. The silky fabric slid gently over his skin, but the sensation filled him with disgust. It seemed like only a second had passed as he took in his surroundings, but Sarah had already gotten dressed and was ready for work. She was wearing a business suit—tailored pants, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and a dark blazer. She looked imposing, stronger and more confident than ever before.

— Was it so hard to make breakfast? — she snapped. — You throw a fit over every little thing! It’s just breakfast! You’re a man, Bradley, and it’s your job to keep the house in order, cook, and take care of these things! — Her voice grew louder, and with every word, her frustration mounted.

— I... me?! — Bradley stammered, unable to believe his ears. — This... this is absurd! I’m not doing this, Sarah! Where are you going?! Why are you wearing my suit?!

Sarah rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed by his words. She walked to the mirror, adjusting her hair and checking the collar of her blazer.

— Your suit? — she smirked, glancing at him over her shoulder. — This is my suit. Do you even hear yourself? What, is your testosterone acting up again? — She laughed, slipping on her shoes.

— Testosterone acting up? — Bradley’s eyes widened, unable to believe Sarah could talk to him like that. — What kind of nonsense is this?! What did you dress me up in, and when did you even... hey! Do you hear me?! — But Sarah was already at the door when Bradley rushed over to her, trying to grab her attention.

Sarah smirked, barely acknowledging him. She gave him a quick, dismissive kiss before leaving, like it was a routine gesture. Then she slapped him on the butt as if it was normal, continuing to talk on the phone, leaving Bradley in total confusion.

— Hey! Do you hear me?! — Bradley shouted, his voice rising in desperation, trying to make sense of the madness around him.

Sarah raised her hand, signaling for him to wait, like he was just an annoying background noise. She spoke on the phone in a firm, confident voice.

— Yeah, he threw a tantrum again this morning. Oh, you know how they are... their "testosterone swings," — she let out a short laugh, giving Bradley an annoyed glance that made his insides churn, and then she walked out of the apartment.

Bradley stood in the middle of the room, unable to process what had just happened. His mind was tangled, refusing to accept this reality. Sarah had just slapped his butt and left for work, acting as if this was their everyday life. But for Bradley, it felt like some absurd dream, a nightmare.

He turned to the mirror and looked at his reflection again. Long blonde locks cascaded over his shoulders, and the pink, long nails looked so foreign that he almost felt sick. The silky nightgown clung softly to his body, which only made the disgust grow stronger.

‘No-no-no, this is just some stupid dream,’ he thought, staring at it all.

— Alright, enough of this circus, — Bradley muttered, decisively pulling off the nightgown. He headed for the wardrobe, determined to find something "normal," something masculine, something familiar. But every item he pulled out was either clearly feminine or clearly not his. Breathing heavily, already on the verge of a breakdown, he flung open the section of the wardrobe where Sarah's clothes hung. His eyes froze on a row of sharp suits that now seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. Bradley grabbed one—a shirt that hung beneath a crisp blazer and trousers.

He snatched the shirt and tried to put it on. It was not only too big in the shoulders and chest but far too long for his current frame. The blazer barely clung to his slender shoulders, as if the suit were simply hanging off him. He buttoned the trousers, but they were too wide, and even on the last hole, the belt couldn't hold them up properly. However, he didn’t care about how it looked—he just needed something to bring him back to normalcy.

Looking at himself in the mirror again, he felt a fresh wave of irritation. The long hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and even when he tried to tie it back in a messy ponytail, it looked ridiculous.

— This is a nightmare, — he whispered, still fumbling with the belt that refused to tighten properly.

Trying to distract himself, Bradley turned on the TV. But what he saw made him recoil internally. A man, feminine in appearance, with flawless makeup, was sweetly singing a romantic ballad while floating through the air on a swing made of roses. His movements were graceful, and his voice was high and tender.

— What the hell is this nonsense? — Bradley muttered, flipping through channels, but each one showed something similar: feminine men, masculine women. He switched channels furiously, searching for something familiar, but everything seemed to twist his reality inside out. The men on screen wore bright outfits—tight shirts adorned with rhinestones and skinny pants barely clinging to their slim hips. Many were in heels or extravagant platform boots, and their movements were smooth, almost theatrical. Their faces were painted with makeup that highlighted their soft features, giving them a distinctly feminine appearance. Around them, similar men flitted about, with neatly styled hair and bright lips.

The women, on the other hand, wore sharp, commanding suits with strong lines and broad shoulders, emphasizing their physical power. Their movements were brisk and aggressive. One woman, who appeared on the screen, wore a leather jacket with rolled-up sleeves, casually flicking a cigarette to the ground as her muscular arm casually pointed at a man who stood next to her, looking like a scared puppy.

Bradley froze as he landed on a particular channel. It was some sort of gangster show about 1930s America. The women, in wide-brimmed hats and tailored suits, discussed business in a bar, their voices loud and confident. They sat around massive oak tables, smoking cigars and casually throwing sarcastic remarks at each other. The men around them, dressed in bright dresses with frills, gaudy ribbons, and dainty heels, scurried between the tables, nervously glancing at the gangster women. Their faces were carefully made up, and their hair was styled in perfect curls.

One of the men timidly approached a woman with a cigar, holding a tray of drinks. His shoulders were slouched, his gaze darting nervously as he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible.

— Hey, sweetie, — the woman threw a glance at the man, who awkwardly offered the tray, and suddenly reached out, grabbing his wrist. She yanked him close so that he practically fell onto her lap. The man, trembling with shock and fear, let out a weak whimper.

— I like you, — she smirked, pulling him closer with one arm, like a toy. Her other hand lazily caressed her glass of whiskey, her voice low and confident. — Maybe you’ll stick around after closing? We’ve got some "business" to discuss.

The man looked up at her, his eyes full of panic and helplessness. His breathing became rapid and shallow.

— I... I can’t, miss, — he whispered, trying to free his wrist, but his thin arms were too weak against her firm grip.

The woman laughed loudly, looking him over from head to toe, like a predator sizing up its prey.

— What a cute boy, — her voice dripped with mockery as she squinted at him with interest. — You’ve got such a sweet little ass. Just like a doll, — she added, her hand boldly sliding along his thigh, as if it were completely normal.

— What the... — Bradley stopped, unable to believe his eyes. He turned off the TV, no longer wanting to see any of it. Everything around him was upside down, and it filled him with a sense of helplessness.