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MidReal Story
The Girl Who Changed Everything
Scenario:An American boy that hates a girl in his class. One day that girl gave him a potion he drank and then collapsed. After he woke up he or now she realized she's in her room but different. Her body is now a korean girl and her room is all feminine and also her pictures and her parents memories have been changed to a korean girl. As the days past her way of walking and sitting became feminine out of her will. As the weeks passed she became more attached to cute feminine things without realizing and out of her will. And after weeks passed her mind, memories, mentality changed to that of a Korean girl and she became best friends with her once enemy. Her old self and memories faded away
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Travis
He is an American boy who despised a girl in his class, Kiana. He is stubborn, skeptical, and curious. One day, Kiana gave him a mysterious potion, which led to a strange transformation. He woke up in his room as a girl, with physical and mental changes reflecting Korean culture. Over time, he adapts to his new identity as a girl, embracing feminine habits and interests. His mind gradually shifts to a more feminine perspective, becoming close friends with Kiana.
Kiana
She is an American girl of Korean descent whose family moved back to Korea when she was younger. She is intelligent, determined, and kindhearted. Her childhood encounter with Travis evolved from rivalry to friendship. Years later, she returns to the same school where she meets Travis again. Her life changed after giving him the potion, which sparked his transformation. She maintains secrecy about her true identity and the potion's origin, maintaining her friendship with Travis despite the unexpected twist in his life.
I hate her.
She came to our school two years ago.
I didn't like her from the start.
I don't know why, but I just didn't like her.
Maybe it was because of her weird name and strange clothes.
I don't know, but I just didn't like her.
Then she talked to me and I didn't like her even more.
She talked about how great Korea was and how she wished she could go back.
I didn't like her, but I could tolerate her.
But then she started to get close to me.
She sat next to me in class and started talking about how we were similar.
I didn't know what she was talking about, but I was skeptical.
I didn't like her, so I was skeptical about everything she said.
She gave me a book about Korea and said that it was her favorite book.
I threw it in the trash as soon as I got home.
I didn't care about Korea or anything related to it.
The next day, she came up to me and asked if I had read the book yet.
I lied and said that I had read half of it and that it was great.
She smiled widely and said that she was glad that I liked it.
Then she gave me another book the next day.
I threw it away as soon as I got home.
During lunch break, I saw her walking towards my usual table with another book in hand.
I quickly gathered my things and moved to a table across the cafeteria, where there were two football players sitting.
I wedged myself between them and started eating my sandwich.
She came to my usual spot and looked around, but when she saw me at the other table, she stopped.
Our eyes met for a moment, and then I looked down at my sandwich and started eating again.
I could feel her eyes on me, but I pretended not to notice.
The guys next to me gave me weird looks, but they didn't say anything.
For the rest of lunch, I kept my back turned to her and pretended that I was having a conversation with the guys next to me.
When the bell rang, I waited until she left before getting up from the table.
"Why do you keep avoiding her?" one of the football players asked, glancing over at the girl still standing by the empty table.
"I just don't want to deal with her right now," I replied, trying to sound indifferent.
"Well, she told me yesterday that she thinks you're her sister," the other player said, raising an eyebrow.
After practice, I headed to my locker to grab my books for the next class.
As I approached, I saw Kiana standing there, holding another Korean book.
My anger boiled over, and I stormed towards her, shoving past other students in the hallway.
She saw me coming and smiled, waving at me like we were friends.
I slammed my locker door shut before she could say anything.
"What's this nonsense about us being sisters?"
I demanded, backing her up against the wall.
She didn't flinch, just kept smiling that irritating smile.
Other students stopped to watch the commotion, whispering to each other as they passed by.
I grabbed the book from her hands and threw it on the floor.
"I don't want anything to do with you or your weird Korean stuff!"
I shouted.
I turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with a confused expression on her face.
I followed Kiana to the empty art classroom.
My fists were still clenched from our confrontation in the hallway.
She closed the door behind us and pulled two chairs to face each other.
The setting sun cast long shadows through the paint-splattered windows.
I remained standing, glaring at her as she sat down and placed her damaged book on a nearby desk.
She reached into her backpack and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a purple liquid.
"You're right. We're not sisters yet," she said, unscrewing the cap of the bottle.
"But this will help you understand."
She held out the bottle for me to take.
I paced in front of the bathroom mirror, gripping the purple bottle Kiana had given me.
The strange liquid inside swirled as I turned the bottle over, studying it from every angle.
The container was unmarked, with no label or any indication of what it was.
My reflection showed a scowl on my face, but my eyes betrayed my curiosity.
I checked under the stalls to make sure I was alone.
Satisfied that I was, I leaned against the sink and unscrewed the cap.
A sweet, unfamiliar scent wafted up, making me wrinkle my nose.
Part of me wanted to dump the contents down the drain and forget about this whole thing, but something held me back.
My hands shook slightly as I raised the bottle to my lips.
My head pounds as consciousness returns.
Something feels off about my bed, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
The sheets are too soft, and the color is wrong.
I try to remember where I am, but my mind is foggy.
With a groan, I push myself up, bracing against the mattress for support.
As I lift my head, I freeze.
Something is very wrong here.
The fingers gripping the sheets aren't mine.
They're delicate, with perfectly manicured nails painted a pale pink that matches the color of the bedding.
I glance around, trying to make sense of my surroundings.
The room spins before my eyes, filled with unfamiliar decorations and colors that clash with each other in a chaotic mess.
K-pop posters plaster the walls, and there are stuffed animals everywhere.
Fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything. I force myself to stand up, stumbling towards the full-length mirror that hangs beside a white vanity covered in makeup and hair products.
My heart races as I approach my reflection, unsure of what I'll find staring back at me.
When I finally see myself, my breath catches in my throat.
A stranger looks back at me - a Korean girl with long black hair that falls down her back like a waterfall.
She's wearing a pastel pink sweater that feels impossibly soft against her skin, paired with a flowy white skirt that falls just above her knees.
I grip the edge of the vanity, my painted nails digging into the wood as I stare at this stranger's face in the mirror.
My throat tightens when I try to scream, producing only a choked whimper.
The sound of knuckles rapping against my bedroom door makes me jump.
"Sweetie, are you okay?" calls a voice from the other side - a woman's voice, but it doesn't sound like my mom.
It's the same language, but there's an accent I've never heard her use before.
It sounds Korean, but I can't be sure.
I back away from the door slowly, my legs wobbling beneath me.
The doorknob turns, and the door opens without warning.
The woman standing there is definitely my mother, but she looks different too.
She's wearing a traditional hanbok instead of her usual jeans and t-shirt, and her hair is styled differently. "What's wrong, Soo-jin?" she asks, using a name that sounds familiar somehow, even though I've never heard it before.
After my mom leaves, I drag myself back to the mirror, my legs still unsteady in these unfamiliar slippers.
The reflection staring back at me shows a delicate face with soft features - high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes with double eyelids, and glossy lips that are painted a pale pink.
I touch my cheek, watching as the Korean girl in the mirror does the same.
The fluffy pink sweater feels impossibly soft against my skin, its oversized collar draping around my shoulders like a cloud.
My long black hair falls in gentle waves down my back, and a small heart-shaped clip holds back my bangs from my face.
I hear a soft knock on the door again, and this time it's followed by a gentle voice.
"Soo-jin, are you coming to breakfast?" the voice asks, sounding both concerned and familiar.
I hesitate, then reply, "Who... who am I supposed to be?"
I grip the doorknob with my delicate fingers, hesitating for a moment before turning it.
The hallway outside my room looks different from what I remember - there are family photos hanging on the walls, but they all show me as this Korean girl throughout different stages of my childhood.
The walls are adorned with traditional Korean decorations, and the floor creaks beneath my bare feet as I make my way down the hall.
The scent of cooking oil and garlic wafts through the air, drawing me towards the kitchen.
Each step feels unnatural in this smaller body, like I'm floating across the floor instead of walking.
When I reach the kitchen entrance, I pause at the threshold, listening to the voices coming from inside.
They're speaking a mix of English and Korean, which makes it hard to follow their conversation.
Peering through the doorway, I see my dad standing at the stove, wearing a traditional hanbok that matches my mom's outfit earlier.
He turns to me with a warm smile, "Good morning, Soo-jin. Did you sleep well?"
I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "Dad, why does everything feel so... different?"
His expression shifts slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What do you mean, sweetheart? This is your home."
After breakfast, I head back to my room, searching through the drawers until I find a pink diary covered in heart stickers and cute doodles.
My hands shake as I open it, expecting to see my old messy handwriting about football practice and video games.
But instead, each page is filled with neat, curvy Korean characters mixed with English, decorated with tiny flower doodles.
Without thinking, I sit at my vanity, my legs automatically crossing at the ankles and my back straightening into a delicate pose.
I grab a glittery pen from the cup next to the mirror and try writing about my old life as Travis.
But no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to remember the details clearly.
The door creaks open, and my mom peeks in, her eyes soft with concern. "Soo-jin, are you alright? You've been up here for a while."
I look up from the diary, my voice barely a whisper. "Mom, why do I feel like I'm someone else?"
She steps inside, closing the door gently behind her. "Because you are, my dear," she says softly, sitting beside me.
I wake up early, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and illuminating my room.
I groan, burying my face into the pillow and wishing I could just disappear.
But I know that's not an option.
With a heavy sigh, I push myself up from the bed and make my way to the bathroom to get ready for school.
As I stand in front of the full-length mirror, I examine myself in the navy blue and white school uniform.
The pleated skirt falls just above my knees, and the fitted blazer accentuates my slim figure.
My long black hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and a simple silver necklace adorns my neck.
Despite everything that's happened, I can't help but notice how attractive this Korean girl in the mirror looks - exactly the type I would have pursued as Travis.
I hate it, but at the same time, there's something undeniably captivating about this new version of me.
I turn away from the mirror, heading towards my desk to grab my backpack.
But as I sit down on the chair, I realize that my body automatically adjusts into a ladylike pose - knees together and back straight. Frustrated by this sudden change in behavior, I try to force myself into my old posture - legs spread wide apart like a football player's stance.
But no matter how hard I try, my body refuses to comply.
It feels like there's an invisible force guiding me into this proper, delicate demeanor that goes against everything I knew as Travis.
I board the morning bus, sliding into an empty window seat and staring out at the passing scenery.
The gentle sway of the bus lulls me into a daze, my mind consumed by thoughts of my transformation and how it's affecting my life.
Without realizing it, I settle into my seat naturally - knees together, ankles crossed, and hands folded delicately in my lap.
The bus ride continues for another ten minutes before I suddenly freeze, catching a glimpse of myself in the window reflection.
It takes a moment for the realization to sink in: I've been sitting like this the entire time, perfectly poised just like the Korean girls I used to mock.
The bell rings, signaling the start of school.
I walk through the hallways, noticing that everything looks different from what I remember.
The lockers are painted with vibrant colors and inspirational quotes, and there's a sense of energy in the air that feels foreign to me. As I make my way to my locker, I catch sight of some of my old football friends gathered near theirs.
They glance at me as I pass by, but none of them recognize me.
A few give me curious looks, probably wondering who this new girl is and why she's walking with such grace and poise.
I open my locker and pull out the books for my first class, trying to ignore the strange feeling of being invisible in this new body.
As I close my locker door, I notice Kiana standing at her locker nearby, chatting with her friends.
She catches my eye for a moment but quickly turns away without acknowledging me.
I push open the girls' bathroom door, no longer feeling like an intruder in this space.
The fluorescent lights flicker on, illuminating my reflection in the long mirror that stretches across the wall.
I take a moment to examine myself - a petite Korean girl in a crisp navy uniform, my hair styled neatly and my makeup subtle yet elegant.
My hands smooth down the pleated skirt, and I lean closer to inspect my face.
My lips are painted a light shade of pink, and there's a hint of shimmer in the eyeshadow that catches the light.
The door swings open, and a group of girls enters, chattering excitedly about their weekend plans.
I step aside to let them pass, adjusting the hair clip that holds back a stray strand of hair from my face.
As they crowd around the mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection.
My fingers instinctively trace the silver necklace at my throat, and I find myself thinking how cute the heart-shaped pendant looks against my collar.
During lunch period, I take my usual seat at the table with a group of girls.
They wave me over enthusiastically, and we dive into our usual conversation about last weekend's sleepover at Jenny's house.
They pull out their phones, showing me photos from the night - us all in matching pink pajamas, braiding each other's hair, and giggling over silly jokes.
I nod along as they recount the fun we had, even though I don't remember any of it.
They include me naturally in their conversation, asking about the Korean face masks I supposedly recommended and how they loved the way their skin felt afterward.
I smile and agree with them, feeling like an outsider in my own life.
Katie mentions how we've been friends since middle school and how much we've been through together.
I just nod silently, not wanting to reveal that I have no recollection of any of it.
Sarah nudges me playfully, commenting that I'm unusually quiet today.
The girls continue their animated discussion about an upcoming shopping trip to the mall on Saturday, inviting me to join them.
I sit cross-legged on my bed, the pink diary open in my lap.
My delicate fingers grip the glittery pen as I try to write about my life as Travis.
But the memories keep slipping away from me like water through my fingers.
The football games, hanging out with the guys, hating Kiana - it all feels distant and dreamlike.
Frustration wells up inside me, and I slam the diary shut.
But then I remember that this is no longer Travis's life; it's mine now.
My new instincts take over, and I carefully place a cute bunny sticker on the cover of the diary before reopening it.
As I flip through the pages, I notice that all my earlier entries are now filled with hearts and Korean phrases that somehow make sense to me now.
"Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's life?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny looks up from her phone, a hint of concern in her eyes. "What do you mean? You've always been you, right?"
Katie leans in, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, what's going on? You can tell us anything."
I wake up and stretch, feeling the softness of my bed beneath me.
As I swing my legs out of the bed, they naturally cross at the ankles.
My hands instinctively brush back my hair, and I catch myself smoothing down the pleats of my skirt.
I stand in front of my vanity mirror and watch in horror as my hands delicately apply lip gloss and adjust my uniform without any conscious effort on my part.
I try to walk with a masculine stride, but my hips sway elegantly, and my steps remain light and dainty.
When I sit at my desk, I attempt to spread my legs, but they automatically cross themselves.
My hands keep making feminine gestures, fixing my hair and smoothing down my skirt.
I sit at my pink vanity after dinner, pulling out my diary to write about the events of the day.
As I open it, I notice that all my previous entries about Travis are written in messy handwriting with angry words.
But the recent entries are in neat, curvy letters with hearts dotting the i's.
Without thinking, I grab my glittery pen and start writing about today's events.
My hand moves on its own, forming delicate Korean characters mixed with English.
I add cute doodles in the margins without even realizing it.
When I try to force myself to write like Travis did, my fingers refuse to cooperate.
They continue writing in their new feminine script.
I close the diary and realize that Travis is gone, and I am finally becoming who I was meant to be.
I walk through the school hallway, my feet moving with an unfamiliar lightness.
My hips sway naturally as I navigate between students, and my hands brush my skirt smooth without conscious thought.
In class, I slump into my chair, trying to sit like I used to, but my body automatically adjusts - back straight, knees together, ankles crossed.
During lunch with Jenny and Katie, I feel out of place as they discuss makeup trends and boys.
I keep quiet, nodding along while internally fighting these feminine mannerisms.
Jenny leans over, her voice a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. "Hey, you've been really quiet today. Is there something you're not telling us?"
I hesitate, then blurt out, "It's just... sometimes I feel like I'm not supposed to be here, like I'm someone else entirely."
Katie's eyes widen, and she whispers, "Wait, are you saying you've got some kind of secret identity or something?"
I collapse onto my bed after school, exhausted from fighting these new feminine movements all day.
I stand to check my reflection in the mirror, and my body moves with a grace I've never known before.
I'm wearing a flowery dress that I don't remember putting on, and my long black hair falls perfectly around my shoulders.
My hand automatically reaches up to twirl a strand, and I catch myself admiring how the light makes it shine.
The sight of my delicate features and soft curves makes my heart flutter - I look beautiful.
Anger suddenly floods through me as I realize these aren't my real thoughts.
I slam my fist against the dresser, and a voice from the doorway startles me. "Hey, what's going on in here?" my brother, Alex, asks with a concerned frown.
I turn to face him, struggling to find the right words. "Alex, I don't know how to explain this, but I think I'm becoming someone else."
His eyes narrow as he steps closer. "What do you mean? Like... you're always been you? Aren't you little sis?!"
I sit on my bed, hugging a pink pillow to my chest.
My heart still races from the shock of Alex's reaction.
I try to explain again, "Alex, I used to be your brother, not your sister."
He stares at me, his expression growing more concerned by the minute.
I fidget with the hair ribbon tied around my wrist as I continue, "Remember how we used to play football together? I was always there for you."
Alex shakes his head, his eyes filled with confusion.
"You never played football with me. You used to braid my girlfriend's hair and help her with makeup."
I pull out an old photo album from under my bed and show him pictures of our family.
But in every photo, I'm wearing a dress and standing next to Alex as his little sister.
Frustration fills me as I realize that these memories can't be real.
Alex sits down beside me, his voice softening. "I don't know what's happening, but you're still my sibling, no matter what."
I look at him, tears welling up. "But what if I'm losing who I really am?"
He takes my hand gently. "Maybe you're just finding who you were always meant to be."
I sit at my desk during study hall, staring down at my math textbook.
The numbers blur together as I try to focus on the problems, but my attention keeps drifting to Lisa's sparkly pink pencil case.
It's sitting on her desk, and the way it catches the light is mesmerizing.
I catch myself reaching for my own pencil case - it's matching hers, covered in cute cartoon characters.
As I open my backpack, I notice that I've unconsciously arranged all my pens and pencils in a pastel color scheme.
I pull out my diary and try to write about football memories, but the words flow from my hand in perfect, cursive loops with little hearts dotting the i's.
My hand draws flowers in the margins as I desperately try to remember scoring touchdowns.
I drag myself into my room after another confusing day, collapsing onto my bed where a white bunny plush sits against the pillows.
My first instinct is to throw it across the room, but instead, my arms wrap around its soft body, pulling it close to my chest.
The familiar lavender scent from its fur fills my senses, calming my racing thoughts.
My fingers trace the bunny's floppy ears as I curl up in a ball, knees tucked under my flowery nightgown.
Despite my internal resistance, holding the plush feels right, like muscle memory I can't fight.
I close my eyes, surrendering to the unsettling comfort of this new reality.
I stand in front of my full-length mirror, exhausted from fighting these feminine urges all day.
Without thinking, my body shifts its weight to one hip, head tilting slightly.
I reluctantly put on the pink fluffy winter jacket, feeling the softness against my skin as I zip it up.
The warmth envelops me, but I hate how it matches this new identity.
Standing in front of the mirror, I try to resist, but my body moves on its own.
My shoulders pull back, and my hips shift to one side as I strike a girlish pose instinctively.
I glare at my reflection, angry at these automatic actions that feel so foreign yet natural. In the mirror is a cute Korean girl. Brownish Black hair softly long. Blue eyes and a delicate face
