Never piss off your sister

Calvin placed a hand on his hip and leaned against the wooden railing of the farmhouse porch, his body—curvaceous and still unfamiliar—clad in a short, spaghetti-strap dress. The blue floral fabric clung to his skin in the late-afternoon heat, accentuating his silhouette, narrow waist, and thighs—parts of his body he still didn't quite know how to conceal. His long, dark, fringed hair cascaded over his shoulders as he gazed at his son, who sat on the bench looking sullen, his eyes fixed blankly on the ground.

"Son, why the long face?" Calvin asked, the neighbor’s sweet, feminine voice emerging with surprising naturalness. "Your mom said we needed some father-son time. Well... after that crazy incident where I swapped bodies with our neighbor, I know life hasn't been the same. I agreed with her. After all, it’s been a while since we came out to the farm. We could, I don't know, go fishing—do something father-and-son-like. You know, for the sake of the good old days."

The young man looked up, his expression a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

"Oh, Dad... if I can even call you that anymore. Fate’s cruel irony put you in the body of my crush, and on top of that, I’m forced to be around you like *this*?"

Calvin arched an eyebrow—a gesture far too graceful for the rugged man he had once been.

"Like what?" "Wearing... *that*!" his son gestured exasperatedly at the short dress, the modest neckline, and the form-fitting fabric. "It looks like you’re having a little *too* much fun!"

Calvin sighed, his hand still on his hip, his body tilting slightly to the side just as the original owner of those curves used to do. "You have to understand, there’s nothing I can do. What happened wasn't my fault." He could be back home, moping around, but he really wanted to make the most of their stay here to try to discover himself and… accept himself.

His son shook his head, blushing right up to his ears. "Yeah, well, count me out of those 'moves.' Another thing: where did you find the kind of clothes you're wearing?"

Calvin shrugged—a careless movement that caused the already short dress to ride up a few more inches along his toned thighs.

"Oh, your sister packed my bag for the trip. She picked everything out and said it would go well with the country house vibe."

At that moment, the realization hit the boy hard in the chest. His sister knew. She knew about the crush, knew every single detail of his unrequited longing, and had surgically selected all the outfits he’d always drooled over seeing the neighbor wear. The short dress, the light fabric, the way it hugged the body... everything was coldly calculated to torture him throughout the trip. She had turned his own father into the greatest temptation—and the greatest nightmare—of his life.

Calvin, oblivious to the boy's existential crisis (or perhaps secretly amused by the situation), ran his long fingers through his black hair, adjusting his bangs, and gazed out at the green landscape beyond the porch.

"So... are we going fishing, or would you rather just stand there staring at me with that look on your face?"

His son swallowed hard, his eyes involuntarily drifting down the body he had once desired in his wildest dreams—a body that now, through a cruel twist of fate, belonged to his own father. He covered his face with his hands, letting out a groan of utter defeat. The country house, meant to be a peaceful refuge, would never be the same again.

The boy remained as tense as a violin string, trying not to breathe too deeply so he wouldn't get intoxicated by the sweet scent, while his mind desperately tried to remember that the soul inside that body wore boxers and watched Sunday football. 

"You know something, son?" Calvin began, resting his chin on his hand and staring intently at the young man, his brown eyes glinting with irony. "Come to think of it, fate has handed us a unique opportunity here. In theory, as your father, I ought to be giving you advice on how to talk to girls, how to break the ice—that sort of thing."

The young man’s eyes went wide; he blinked, dazed.

"Dad... please, don't make things any more complicated..."

He had thought the nightmare would be limited to that afternoon on the porch, but the truth was, things were about to get even worse. What his father hadn't even realized—was that the other bedrooms at the country house were being renovated, leaving only the master suite with a single, usable double bed.

And the *coup de grâce*—coldly calculated by his sister down to the last detail—was still waiting, locked away in a suitcase. If a simple blue floral sundress had already drawn so much attention and nearly made the boy choke on his own saliva, he had no idea about the selection of lace and silk "sleepwear" his daughter had prepared for her father to wear that night.

Yes, the worst was yet to come. And the night at the country house promised to be very, very long.