Mark opened his eyes to a ceiling that was at once both familiar and foreign. He stared, a sense of dislocation washing over him as he recognized the faint water stains, the specific shade of off-white. It was the ceiling of his teenage bedroom, from back when he lived in that big, sprawling house. His head turned on the pillow, and the room swam into focus like a memory brought to life. The high-end computer rig in the corner, the collection of gaming consoles beneath the monitor, the massive wardrobe, the posters of scantily-clad models plastered across the walls. A collage of his past. The truth hit him like a physical blow. This was his old room. He shot up in bed, his gaze sweeping across the space again, frantic now. "Am I dreaming?" he muttered, looking down at his hands. They seemed solid enough, the skin and bone of them real. He could feel the steady rhythm of his own breathing. He dug his fingernails into his forearm and flinched at the sharp sting of pain. "Definitely not dreaming," he breathed, swinging his legs off the bed and striding toward the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. Mark’s eyes widened until they ached. He saw his younger self staring back, but it wasn't the boy he remembered. "I don't recall having a six-pack," he said aloud, his own voice sounding strange. His fingers traced the hard planes of his abdomen. "Shit," he exclaimed, pressing down. "They're real as fuck." His gaze traveled over the rest of his body. He was lean but powerfully built, corded with muscle like a professional athlete in peak condition. Then his eyes dropped lower, and his breath hitched. "This has to be a very vivid dream," he stammered. He knew for a fact he'd never been that large. As he took in his reflection as a whole, nothing aligned with his memory. He'd been tall, yes, but painfully skinny, a walking skeleton whose ribs were always visible. The man in the mirror was an entirely different creature. The face was his, but sharper, more handsome. The body was a complete fabrication. It was as if someone had found his character creation screen and maxed out all the sliders. I must have hit my head when I fell, he thought, grasping for a rational explanation. They must have me on some very potent drugs. "Mark, get up! Stop being a lazy bum and go find a job!" A sharp voice cut through the closed door, a voice he could never forget. It belonged to his stepmother. The door swung open, and a stunning woman in a form-fitting black dress strode in. It was her. Julia Jennings, formerly Julia Wilson. "Mark—" Her words caught in her throat. She froze, her eyes locked on him standing completely naked before the mirror. Her gaze swept over his chiseled torso, a flicker of appreciation in her expression, but then it fell to what hung between his legs. A soft gasp escaped her lips. While she stood there, momentarily stunned, Mark found himself admiring the woman in the doorway. If this is a dream, I don't want it to end, he thought, his eyes drawn to the generous curve of her breasts, barely contained by the dress’s neckline. He saw her eyes linger on him, her shock mixed with something else, and it only deepened his confusion. Was any of this real? "Oh, my god!" Julia finally yelped, spinning around and rushing out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. "Why are you walking around naked? Can't you get dressed?" she shouted through the wood, her voice tight with frustration. "You're the one who barged in without knocking," Mark called back, the retort coming naturally. "Learn some manners, woman." They’d never had a good relationship. An undercurrent of hostility had always defined their interactions, and while he might have lusted after her in private, he'd never let it show. "Ugh," he heard her grunt from the other side, and a smirk touched his lips. "Whatever," she snapped. "Just get dressed and come down for breakfast." On the other side of the door, Julia leaned her back against it, taking a deep, shaky breath. I never knew the pervert had a body like that, she thought, the image of him seared into her mind. And where did he get that thing? It was huge! Twice the size of his father's, and it wasn't even hard. Must be from his mother's side. I wonder what it would feel like… The thought, dangerous and unwelcome, slithered into her mind before she violently shoved it away, a blush creeping up her neck. "Get ahold of yourself, Julia," she whispered fiercely, pushing off the door and walking away. Back in the room, Mark was still staring at his reflection, turning this way and that. "Is this all real?" he asked the empty room again. It all felt too tangible, too solid to be a hallucination. He felt intensely alive, more so than he had in years. He felt strong. His vision seemed sharper, the colors in the room more vibrant. He could smell the faint scent of dust and old books in the air. "If this is real," he said, a new determination hardening his voice, "it means I have a second chance. I won't waste it like I did before. This time, I'll make something of myself." "Let's get dressed." He crossed to his wardrobe and pulled the doors open, revealing a row of baggy, oversized clothes. A memory surfaced: a girl in his class laughing, calling him a twig. He'd bought these hoodies and loose t-shirts to hide his bony frame, to disappear. He had been so self-conscious back then. With a sigh, he pulled a black hoodie from its hanger and found a pair of blue jeans. Dressed, he looked in the mirror again. The baggy clothes did their job perfectly, completely obscuring the powerful physique beneath. It reminded him of those "sleeper build" videos he'd seen online, where an average-looking guy would take off his shirt to reveal a ripped body. He could almost picture the surprise on people's faces. He spotted his old phone on the nightstand and picked it up. The screen lit up, showing a picture of a model he’d had a crush on. "September 2, 2023," he read the date displayed beneath the image. A chill went down his spine. "Twenty-two years," he whispered, the words barely audible. He was back twenty-two years in the past.

Chapter 2: You Woke A New Body