TBP - Janna

This story is part of the TBP series, read part 1 here.

The third time was a shock.

Matthew woke up feeling the soft touch of lace lingerie against his skin. The vanity mirror in the room reflected soft makeup lights, and for a moment, he thought he was in some kind of commercial set — until he realized this was real. He was real.
And the body in the mirror… was Janna's.

The sensation was absurd: smooth skin, a narrow waist, pronounced hips, and that face — perfectly made up, radiating a confidence he’d never imagine having.
But there it was.
He was her.

His son’s girlfriend.
The girl from the social media pictures.
The woman now staring back at him in the mirror.

Matthew sat in silence for what felt like forever, trying to understand how he could even move, breathe, think.
And still… he felt full of energy. As if he had turned back time — not just in body, but in spirit, in presence, in sheer vitality.
It was maddening.

“She has no idea what this means for me... And my little girl, where is she now?”
he wondered, slipping into his fatherly mindset, thinking of his daughter — who suddenly didn’t seem like the most unlikely choice anymore.
“But now… I’m my son’s girlfriend.”

What if he stayed?
What if he accepted this role?
Put on those clothes, walked out of that room as Janna, and kept living?
The life of a confident, sensual young woman — admired, desired, but also watched, judged, exposed.
The ethics of it all gnawed at him, but the raw energy of that body was dangerously addictive.

The more he thought about it, the weirder it got:

“Am I pretending to be her? To be a woman? To be my own son’s partner?”
“And who’s in my body now? Is it her? My daughter? …No one?”

The question lingered like a whisper he couldn’t silence.
He stood, walked to the mirror.
He stared at the curves, the piercing eyes, the poised posture of someone who knew everyone was looking.
Being Janna wasn’t just looking like someone else. It was living as someone else. And somehow, it was already happening.

He sat down on the bed, instinctively crossing his legs with practiced grace.
Took a deep breath.

“I still have two options left… I haven’t made my decision.”
He looked at the mirror again.
“…Or maybe I have.”