Rebecca Ward enjoyed the best night's sleep she'd ever had in her sixteen-year old life.
She'd dreamed it was senior year of high school already, and she had been elected Prom Queen, finally fulfilling what she knew had always been her just role in school. All the boys were clamoring for her attention, but only the hunkiest and hottest could be her date, of course. All the girls had been put firmly in their places: either as ladies-in-waiting to run errands for Rebecca and laugh at all her snide jokes, or cast off into the outer circle of losers and social misfits deemed unsuitable to interact with the rest of teenage society.
Yes, what a wonderful dream, thought Rebecca as she yawned and stretched in the golden, warm rays of the early morning sunlight streaming through her window.
“Wait a minute,” she grumbled to herself. “I hate morning sunlight!”
She'd insisted her parents put up expensive, extra-thick curtains to block the light from disturbing her beauty sleep. What was going on?
Irritated, Rebecca sat upright in bed, fully prepared to fight with the drapes to get them closed. Mom and dad would get an earful about this at breakfast, of course! They'd promised her these window treatments were the best, and yet here she was being awoken by rotten old blinding sunlight when …
Rebecca abruptly stopped her mental tirade in order to blink her eyes a few times in amazement.
“This isn't my bedroom,” she said flatly.
The room was a cluttered, claustrophobic mess of drab colored, dirty piles of clothes. Paperback books were stacked waist-high along one wall. A bookshelf nearby stood filled, not with books but with a bewildering array of plastic model spaceships and little toy action figures of robots, aliens, and comic book heroes. The walls were plastered with badly hung, cockeyed posters ripped out of cheap, glossy magazines. Rebecca, who normally had perfect vision, couldn't quite make out the pictures depicted in the posters.
“Why is it so blurry?” she said.
Then she noticed her voice.
It wasn't her voice.
It was a squeaky yet low-pitched voice. Almost like the voice of a … a boy?!
Immediately, Rebecca leaped out of bed and started examining herself.
Her worst fears were confirmed: she was in the chubby, pale skinned body of a sixteen-year old boy right now!
She was currently shirtless, and could see her flabby yet flat-chested, male torso clearly displayed. Whoever's body this was, the poor schlub clearly never worked out! Around her legs was a pair of flannel pajama pants. Lifting the front waistband of the pajamas, Rebecca peered down and sighed in disgust at the sight of her own flaccid penis, just hanging there limply.
“I've become some pathetic loser,” she said, still staring in horror at her small yet undeniably masculine sign of manhood.
Groping around a bit, Rebecca managed to find a sweatshirt to pull on. Next came a pair of glasses with mind-bogglingly thick lenses and unflatteringly unfashionable cheap, plastic frames. They allowed her to see much better though, and she was finally able to complete a visual survey of the tiny bedroom she now occupied.
Unsurprisingly, the posters on the walls all depicted various stupid sci-fi movies and television shows Rebecca was unfamiliar with. Likewise, the stacks of paperback novels all had dumb science fiction or fantasy titles on them. She didn't see a copy of the Hunger Games, 50 Shades of Gray, or one of the Twilight books anywhere! Clearly this geek had no taste in literature!
“Who the hell am I?” she wondered aloud.
On cue, an obnoxiously nasal voice called out from somewhere else in the house: “Ronald, darling sweety-pie, are you awake yet my little pumpkin?”
“Oh … my … gawd,” Rebecca said, trying to fight a rising tide of panic within her. “I'm that clumsy, fat nerd kid from school – Ronald Dwebble.”
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