Chapter 0:
Transformative Bodies: My Sex-Swapped Reawakening Begins
“If my life were a story, this would be my prologue.”
…No, stupid. Stupid!
I crumpled the piece of paper I’d been scribbling on and tossed it into the growing pile of rejected drafts beside me. There was no way I was starting with something that cheesy. What was I thinking?
Alright, let’s try again.
“Hi everyone, I’m Yuki Moriyama, your typical high school girl. I like cute things, chatting with my friends, and…”
Ugh. Nope. I crumpled that one too.
It wasn’t bad, but it was too meh. Too generic. Too bland. I mean, does that intro scream, “This is my life, and it’s worth reading about”? Nope. Not even close.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a groan. I’d been at this for hours, pacing my tiny room like a caged animal. Honestly, I was surprised the carpet didn’t have visible wear marks at this point.
The real issue was that I completely ignored the most defining thing about my life. How could I forget to mention the whole sex-swap pill thing? You know, the pills you can take once you turn sixteen? The ones that let you change your gender.
The ones I took.
Yeah, kind of a big deal, right?
I sighed, flopping dramatically onto my bed.
“Amika,” I called out to my personal AI assistant, “help me write the prologue to my life, would you?”
There was a brief hum before its calm, chipper voice responded. “I’m sorry, Yuki. As your personal AI, I’m not allowed to objectify humans by reducing them to the narrative structure of a book.”
Useless. Absolutely useless.
“Okay, then,” I said, holding back my frustration. “Can you at least remind me of what I’ve been doing these past two weeks since I took the pill?”
“Well,” Amika began helpfully, “there’s the incident at the end of the two weeks where—”
“Whoa, stop right there!” I practically shrieked, cutting it off mid-sentence. “No spoilers!”
“I am sorry,” it replied in a tone that was as close to apologetic as an AI assistant could make.
I let out another sigh and hugged my pink Bilby plushie, Momoribi, closer to my chest. The ridiculous little thing—a blatant mascot for the Bilby virus that created the sex-swap pills in the first place—was somehow comforting in its absurdity.
You know what? Screw it. Who needs a prologue for their life anyway? I’ll just skip all that and dive straight in.
Well, then. I guess I’ll start at the beginning.
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