Chapter 0:

Who Needs a Prologue Anyway?

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.