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I woke up one morning feeling different. I just knew that something was out of the ordinary. I closed my tired eyes again and took a deep breath. It's going to be okay. The smell of sweat lingered in the air of the dark room I was in. The only thing I could hear was the silence. It was just going to be another bad day, I was going to have to face that, that's all. I exhaled loudly, a little louder than I should've, before rubbing my tired eyes and getting up. I wasn't ready to face the day, I didn't really want to. The first problem I encountered was that I woke up in someone else's room. I needed to go to the bathroom too much to look around it so I ran out down the hallway in hopes to find the toilet before I did it in my ugly ripped jeans. They were dirty, and they weren't mine either.

In the bathroom I came face to face with a problem much bigger than having to pee. As soon as I walked in I came face to face with my reflection in the mirror and I noticed that something had changed. But not just a little something, everything had changed! That person in the mirror wasn't me! I had been a short, red-haired and green-eyed girl but that guy in the mirror wasn't. I touched my face just to make sure that crap was indeed real, that that was indeed me, and sure enough it was. It wasn't all just some weird nightmare. The person I now saw looking back at me in the mirror was a tall young man with long brown hair, dark brown eyes and tattoos. Lots of tattoos. I had a big problem on my hands.

I pulled down my pants and sat on the toilet even though I no longer had to in order to urinate. I was freaking out inside of my own skin, or at least someone's skin! After I finished my business and I stuck my face in the mirror again. Long flawless face, neat eyebrows, a crooked lip ring on the right side, clean shaven and a huge neck tattoo in a language I didn't speak. I was a guy, I was literally a guy. My first instinct was to slap myself to wake up from a horrific nightmares but much to my displeasure it wasn't even a dream. It was reality. So being a guy wasn't what was horrible, what was horrible was that I didn't know who the guy was, or who he was supposed to be. Panicking, I stomped out of the room and into the living room where I found a guy sleeping on the couch and another one watching TV. I had no idea what the hell was happening and much less who those people were and what they were doing in my house. I thought it was my house at least?

"Hey Jizz, you alright man?" the guy watching TV asked me, "You look pretty puzzled."

Jizz?! What the hell was Jizz supposed to stand for?!

"Eh, yeah... I just feel, sort of, odd today," I muttered out unsure of everything.

He was a short, blue-eyed creepy-looking bald guy wearing a tuxedo. He had the palest skin I had ever seen and a big evil grin on his lips stretching from almost ear-to-ear. He seemed to know me, or at least he knew Jizz.

"You know, you got pretty shaken up in the car accident last night," he went on, "are you sure you don't want to go see a doctor?"

A doctor, how convenient! Jizz's voice — my voice — was low and scratchy. I would've given my new body just over twenty years or so, and the voice matched up with the one of most young men in that age group.

"No, I'm fine," I lied.
 I was far from being fine.

"Alright man."

The other dude on the couch subsequently got up after he heard us speaking loudly. I must've had a blank expression on my face since he didn't look impressed. That guy had messy burgundy dreads, bright green eyes, more tattoos than I did, and probably too many piercings for his round little face. He looked like he could've been a model but sex, drugs and rock and roll had messed him up pretty bad. He rubbed his tired, bloodshot eyes before yawning with his mouth wide open like a cat would. The inside of his mouth revealed most of his teeth rotted away by drug use and a tongue piercing that looked like it was about to fall out.

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