A New Reality or Nowhere to Run

Jason’s first problem was immediate. He was in a fraternity house full of guys, and he was very much not one of them anymore.

He grabbed the oversized hoodie from his chair, pulling it over his head as fast as possible, but the fabric hung awkwardly off his now-smaller frame. His boxers barely stayed up. He needed to get out of there fast.

The hall felt warped somehow, like the angles of the world didn’t quite fit his new frame. His feet were too small. The air was too loud. It was like walking through someone else’s dream, half-naked and invisible. The hallway was already alive with the usual morning chaos—shouting, doors slamming, the smell of burnt coffee wafting from the kitchen. His stomach twisted. How was he supposed to explain this? Hey, guys, it’s me, Jason. I woke up as a chick, but don’t worry, I can still throw a perfect spiral.

No. They’d think it was a prank. Or worse, they’d start asking questions he couldn’t answer. He moved quickly, keeping his head down, but luck wasn’t on his side.

"Whoa—who the hell are you?"

Jason froze. It was his roommate Eric. He was standing in the hallway staring at him, half-dressed, toothbrush in hand.

"Uh—" Jason’s mind raced. He had to say something. Something normal.

“I—I’m just… visiting,” he said quickly, faking a shy smile. "Kyle’s cousin."

Eric frowned, eyes narrowing. "Kyle’s cousin? Since when?"

Jason swallowed hard. "Since forever?"

The lie tumbled out of his mouth, brittle and absurd. He didn’t know Kyle had a cousin. He wasn’t even sure Kyle did. The words came from somewhere else—instinct, maybe. Survival.

Eric looked suspicious but shrugged. "Whatever. Have you seen Jason? Dude was trashed last night, probably dead somewhere."

Jason forced a laugh. "Uh… yeah. No idea."

He darted down the stairs before Eric could ask anything else.

By the time he reached the street, Jason was sweating. He didn’t stop moving until the door slammed behind him. The street outside should have felt like freedom, but it didn’t. It felt like exposure. Cold air, strangers' eyes, a city that suddenly didn’t recognize him. Where the hell was he even supposed to go?

He yanked out his phone, ignoring how different it felt in his smaller hands. His first instinct was to text Coach, say he was sick, but that wouldn’t cut it. The team had a huge game on Saturday, and Jason was the starting quarterback. Missing a full week of practice wasn’t an option. Worst yet, if he didn’t play, his scholarship was on the line.

His fingers hovered over the screen. He needed an excuse. An injury? No—Coach would want to see medical records. A family emergency? Maybe, but that only bought him time.

Panic gnawed at him. His entire life depended on football. That was the plan. Jason Carter, drafted into the NFL, legacy intact. But now that name didn’t fit. His voice didn’t match. Even his reflection had betrayed him. What part of him still counted? His education, his future, everything was on the line now. But right now, Jason wasn’t a quarterback. Hell, he wasn’t even Jason Carter anymore.

His fingers trembled as he typed out a message to the only person who might believe him.

>Dude. It’s Jason. I need your help.

Seconds later, Kevin replied.

>Lol. Who’s this?

Jason exhaled sharply. Shit! He had no choice. He had to meet Kevin face-to-face. Then, he had to figure out what the hell to do next. But deep down, a small voice whispered something worse—what if there was no next?