the eighteenth

Art: https://twitter.com/oryoillust/status/1426918285258354696
    I sighed as I slammed the door to my room behind me, laying down on my bed with a sigh. Whoever had said parents always love their younger child over the older had clearly been either deluded or a liar - though I guess it did make some sense, in my case. He had always been their golden boy, the athletic star, the academic wunderkind, so unlike the disappointment that I clearly was. Not like I was terrible at those things, but what did average mean when an exemplary was right there beside for you to compare with? And sure, I could try as best as I could to prove my worth, but there he always was, always ahead of me, always with something that impressed them more. And that glimmer in his eyes, that I always saw when he smiled at me when accepting their effusive praise… told me that he knew very well what he was doing. It was a shame that his dashing looks came with a rotten personality… though I guess that didn't stop all the girls in college from falling head over heels for him, though he was just a freshman. There was just one year between us in terms of age… but that gulf was most certainly an uncrossable one. 
    Would it ever end? I thought as I took out my phone, browsing through it for anything at all to distract myself. Most likely not… there'd always be another thing for him to needle me over, safe in the knowledge that our parents would always take his side. Ugh… I guess there was just no helping it. "Hmm?" I stopped my idle scrolling, attention caught by a flashing banner. "Create Your Dream Girl!!" It proclaimed, and seemed in all likelihood to be at best one of those shitty mobile games designed to scam you out of money, at worst an actual scam or virus that would wreck my phone forever. But oh well, what could go worse than it already had? I clicked on the banner, and was led to the page for an app with just a hundred or so downloads… seemed about right. I hit the Install button and waited for just a couple of seconds as it downloaded - surely, something with a file size this small couldn’t be hiding a virus or something, right? Right? I opened the app, seeing a simple screen, along with a blinking textbox: “What is your name?” 
    Fine… it wasn’t as if they could doxx or hack me just from that - I typed in my name, seeing the screen fade and be replaced by another. “What would your dream girl be like?” with a bunch of categories, and options to choose from. Well, at least it didn’t seem too difficult… I went through the questions one by one, envisioning . Hair… brown, straight and long, reaching down to her hips. Eyes… dark purple? It was a bit unrealistic, but that had always been my favourite colour, and they had told me to describe my dream girl, after all. Voice… smooth and mature, but melodious. Breast size… big but not too big - a D cup, probably. Curves… probably similar, with an emphasis on the thighs? Age, just a little older… maybe a couple of years older than me? Twenty seemed like a pretty nice number. Mental changes… wait, that didn’t make much sense. No would do, I wasn’t into that sort of stuff. And the final question, the name… Violet. I submitted my answers, though god knows for what purpose, and the app buffered for a few seconds before displaying the words “Your response has been recorded.” And nothing else happened. Nothing at all. “I should have figured…” I put my phone down and turned it out, suppressing a yawn. Might as well get some shut-eye… 
    *Yawn…* I awoke the next morning with a loud yawn, rubbing my eyes as I sat up, blanket slipping off with a thin rustle. “Hnrgh…” Slowly, I started to notice things that were off, things that weren’t quite right - the weight on my chest, the feeling of hair tickling my behind, the slight friction as my thighs rubbed up against each other… my eyes shot open, any trace of sleepiness gone. I stumbled out of bed, towards the mirror hanging on my wall - and found myself staring into the face of my dream girl. Everything I had described about her was there: long hazel hair, purple eyes that sparkled like amethysts, large breasts just contained by a frilly blue bra, wide hips and plump thighs, modesty protected by a simple pair of female undergarments… Only, the reflection in the mirror was mine. I went back towards my bed, switched on my phone, opened up the app, put in my name like the day before - but an error dialogue box popped up, not letting me progress any further. “Hah…” I sighed and laid back down on my bed, letting my phone drop to my side. “I guess it’s permanent, huh.”
    Well, I suppose I could guess at what the “Mental Changes” option did now… it was a good thing I hadn’t chosen that option. Though I did wonder- “Morning, sis…” A knock at the door, and in came my older brother - though if the part about age I had put in the night before applied too, then he would be my younger brother now. And it didn’t seem as if he remembered me from before… “Morning.” I smiled at him and he smiled back, a genuine one far different from the mocking, belittling one he always had before. Just one year, for that much of a difference… at the very least, I knew my life would be very different from before. Then… my eyes fell on my phone, lying on my bed. The app had not worked when I put in my name, but maybe, just maybe, it would work with someone else’s? Perhaps, instead of a younger brother I could get myself a cute little sister…

  I sighed as I slammed the door to my room behind me, laying down on my bed with a sigh. Whoever had said parents always love their younger child over the older had clearly been either deluded or a liar - though I guess it did make some sense, in my case. He had always been their golden boy, the athletic star, the academic wunderkind, so unlike the disappointment that I clearly was. Not like I was terrible at those things, but what did average mean when an exemplary was right there beside for you to compare with? And sure, I could try as best as I could to prove my worth, but there he always was, always ahead of me, always with something that impressed them more. And that glimmer in his eyes, that I always saw when he smiled at me when accepting their effusive praise… told me that he knew very well what he was doing. It was a shame that his dashing looks came with a rotten personality… though I guess that didn't stop all the girls in college from falling head over heels for him, though he was just a freshman. There was just one year between us in terms of age… but that gulf was most certainly an uncrossable one. 

    Would it ever end? I thought as I took out my phone, browsing through it for anything at all to distract myself. Most likely not… there'd always be another thing for him to needle me over, safe in the knowledge that our parents would always take his side. Ugh… I guess there was just no helping it. "Hmm?" I stopped my idle scrolling, attention caught by a flashing banner. "Create Your Dream Girl!!" It proclaimed, and seemed in all likelihood to be at best one of those shitty mobile games designed to scam you out of money, at worst an actual scam or virus that would wreck my phone forever. But oh well, what could go worse than it already had? I clicked on the banner, and was led to the page for an app with just a hundred or so downloads… seemed about right. I hit the Install button and waited for just a couple of seconds as it downloaded - surely, something with a file size this small couldn’t be hiding a virus or something, right? Right? I opened the app, seeing a simple screen, along with a blinking textbox: “What is your name?” 

    Fine… it wasn’t as if they could doxx or hack me just from that - I typed in my name, seeing the screen fade and be replaced by another. “What would your dream girl be like?” with a bunch of categories, and options to choose from. Well, at least it didn’t seem too difficult… I went through the questions one by one, envisioning . Hair… brown, straight and long, reaching down to her hips. Eyes… dark purple? It was a bit unrealistic, but that had always been my favourite colour, and they had told me to describe my dream girl, after all. Voice… smooth and mature, but melodious. Breast size… big but not too big - a D cup, probably. Curves… probably similar, with an emphasis on the thighs? Age, just a little older… maybe a couple of years older than me? Twenty seemed like a pretty nice number. Mental changes… wait, that didn’t make much sense. No would do, I wasn’t into that sort of stuff. And the final question, the name… Violet. I submitted my answers, though god knows for what purpose, and the app buffered for a few seconds before displaying the words “Your response has been recorded.” And nothing else happened. Nothing at all. “I should have figured…” I put my phone down and turned it out, suppressing a yawn. Might as well get some shut-eye… 

    *Yawn…* I awoke the next morning with a loud yawn, rubbing my eyes as I sat up, blanket slipping off with a thin rustle. “Hnrgh…” Slowly, I started to notice things that were off, things that weren’t quite right - the weight on my chest, the feeling of hair tickling my behind, the slight friction as my thighs rubbed up against each other… my eyes shot open, any trace of sleepiness gone. I stumbled out of bed, towards the mirror hanging on my wall - and found myself staring into the face of my dream girl. Everything I had described about her was there: long hazel hair, purple eyes that sparkled like amethysts, large breasts just contained by a frilly blue bra, wide hips and plump thighs, modesty protected by a simple pair of female undergarments… Only, the reflection in the mirror was mine. I went back towards my bed, switched on my phone, opened up the app, put in my name like the day before - but an error dialogue box popped up, not letting me progress any further. “Hah…” I sighed and laid back down on my bed, letting my phone drop to my side. “I guess it’s permanent, huh.”

    Well, I suppose I could guess at what the “Mental Changes” option did now… it was a good thing I hadn’t chosen that option. Though I did wonder- “Morning, sis…” A knock at the door, and in came my older brother - though if the part about age I had put in the night before applied too, then he would be my younger brother now. And it didn’t seem as if he remembered me from before… “Morning.” I smiled at him and he smiled back, a genuine one far different from the mocking, belittling one he always had before. Just one year, for that much of a difference… at the very least, I knew my life would be very different from before. Then… my eyes fell on my phone, lying on my bed. The app had not worked when I put in my name, but maybe, just maybe, it would work with someone else’s? Perhaps, instead of a younger brother I could get myself a cute little sister…