**Laundry Day Mix-Up**

Sure! Here’s a story based on your outline, adding some internal thoughts and light-hearted tone: --- Will had been up late studying for a bio exam, which meant laundry had to wait until the morning. He stuffed two bulging hampers with his entire wardrobe and trudged to the campus laundromat, earbuds in and hood up, hoping to dodge run-ins with early risers. Laundry was routine—one white, one colors. After the gentle beep of washers, he loaded everything into a giant industrial dryer, set the timer, and headed to the nearby Café for a much-needed breakfast sandwich. A half hour later, he shuffled back, cradling a to-go cup and his phone. In true college fashion, someone had moved his laundry basket to get to a machine—which was totally normal. He noticed the dryer was off, perhaps finished a few minutes early. He scooped everything, still warm and scented with unfamiliar lavender, into his basket. Somehow, they felt softer than usual, but his mind was drifting to his next class. Back in his dorm, Will tossed the basket onto his bed, turned up his music, and started folding. Then he really looked down. First, a lacy bra. Pink panties. A summer skirt with tiny daisies. A spaghetti-strap tank top that looked about his size, weirdly enough. Nightgowns, two bikinis, and a handful of loose socks—none of which even remotely belonged to him. “What the—” he mumbled, checking the basket, the dryer sheet, even the empty dryer sheets box, searching for some sign this was a prank. But the realization slowly sunk in: his laundry had been swapped. Somewhere, probably in the building across the quad, someone else just discovered that their basket, now sadly empty of skirts and soft tees, was full of his reliable cargo shorts and plain tees. He should try and fix this, but with back-to-back classes and only one other person in the laundry earlier—a girl with red hair and a book—he guessed it wouldn’t resolve quickly. Will flopped onto his bed and sighed. “Well, crisis postponed.” Curiosity piqued, he held up the flowery skirt against his waist. To his surprise, it stretched comfortably. The tank, maybe a little snug, accentuated his swimmer’s shoulders in a way that would have made his sister laugh for days. He took a breath, shrugged, and figured he might as well see what it felt like. Pulling on a pair of lavender panties (strange, but soft), he struggled with the matching bra before finally getting the clips right. Once the skirt and tank were on, he checked the fit in his mirror—he actually didn’t look half bad, he thought, grinning despite himself. With no way to swap back soon, he folded the rest, making a neat pile of bras, dresses, soft nightgowns, and the cheery bikinis. He placed them in his closet, between his water polo gear and his trusty jeans. As he glanced at the bikinis, he chuckled, imagining showing up to practice in one. Maybe his team captain, always joking about their pool attire, would get a kick out of it—though whether the coach would was another matter. Either way, turning lemons into lemonade—or laundry into a new wardrobe—seemed to be the only choice. And if being the first guy on the swim team to rock a polka-dot bikini started a trend, well, at least everyone would remember his name.

Alex groaned as he lifted the heavy laundry bag onto his shoulder and headed out of his dorm room. It was laundry day, and for about the thousandth time, he wished he didn’t let his clothes pile up until he was completely out of clean outfits. Navigating the maze of hallways and dodging fellow students, he finally arrived at the campus laundry room. With a practiced motion, he dumped his overflowing bag into two washing machines, started them up, and set a timer on his phone. An hour later, when the machines beeped the end of their cycle, Alex efficiently transferred both loads into one of the large dryers. He knew this would take a bit longer, so he decided to grab a quick meal at the nearby café. He ordered a sandwich and a coffee, chatting briefly with some friends who were also taking a break from their studies. Time flew by, and Alex realized he needed to hurry back to the laundry room. When he got there, he saw his basket had been moved to the side—a typical occurrence in the often crowded campus laundry. The dryer was now off, the digital display reading “End.” He pulled the warm clothes out and tossed them into his basket before setting off for his dorm room, appreciating the brief warmth of the clean laundry against the cool autumn air. Once back in his dorm, Alex began the mundane task of folding his clothes. But something was off. He held up what he thought was one of his T-shirts, but it was much smaller and frillier. His brows furrowed as he realized it was a tank top. He pulled out more clothes—bras, panties, skirts, dresses, nightgowns, even bikinis. There wasn't a single piece of his clothing in the mix. "Seriously?" he muttered, feeling a mix of disbelief and frustration. All of his own clothes were gone, replaced entirely by this vastly different wardrobe. After a few moments of internal debate, he sighed deeply, recognizing that there was no way to resolve this quickly. Whoever had his clothes must be having a similarly confusing time, and he had no contact information to immediately swap back. He accepted that this was the clothing he had to work with for the foreseeable future. Curiosity piqued and practicality taking over, he decided to try some of the clothes on. Although it felt slightly surreal, he pulled on a pair of panties—the snug fit was oddly comfortable. Struggling a bit, he managed to strap on a bra, adjusting it until it sat somewhat properly. The tank tops and skirts, while snug, fit surprisingly well. He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the waistband of one of the skirts. With a resigned chuckle, Alex imagined the reactions of his water polo teammates. Taking the bright red bikini from the stack, he thought about showing up to practice in it. The idea was both hilarious and unsettling, but he couldn’t deny he found the situation strangely liberating. He folded and organized his new wardrobe, stacking bras and panties into his drawers, hanging skirts and dresses in his closet. He decided it was simpler to embrace the situation for what it was, at least for now. As he finished, Alex sat on his bed, staring at the neatly folded bikinis. Smiling, he thought, "Tomorrow's practice is going to be… unforgettable."