Somewhere bad.

Trevor blinked in the lights. The roar of the crowd was dizzying and he felt panic surge in his chest. Where was he?

He was sharing a game show stage with two women. The hostess, a tall, voluptuous brunette squeezed into an elegant but revealing dress, was staring at him with a manic intensity, her face twisted into a humorless grin. The assistant was a cartoonishly bouncy blonde with delicate features and strikingly oversized breasts crammed into a skimpy pink camisole and skirt.

"Folks!" she boomed, and the audience roared. "Are you ready for another round of Bimbo or Billionaire?"

Bimbo or billionaire? Trevor wracked his brain. He was playing ultimate frisbee with some friends and then he was here. Had he been ****? What happened?

The hostess turned to him and spread her arms in a gesture of mock welcome. "Let's give it up for today's contestant, Trevor!" The cries of the crowd were slightly dissonant, giving Trevor a headache. "The rules are simple. Just keep opening briefcases! Some contain money, but others have some fun surprises for you. And let's not forget to introduce my beautiful airhead assistant, Chrissi! Chrissi, say hi to Trevor."

The young woman flounced gleefully over and hugged him, her ludicrous melons firm against his flesh through the sheer fabric that barely covered them. After his surprise faded, he pushed her back and spoke.

"I never agreed to be on a game show! I don't even know how I got here or who you people are! I want to-"

He was suddenly on his back, a sharp pain in his chest slowly fading. He struggled to his feet and stared wide-eyed at the hostess, who was smiling at him with gleeful malevolence.

"Folks, I think Trevor here's got the wrong idea! You'd better play along or things will get a lot worse for you." Trevor looked to Chrissi, who nodded frantically. He thought he saw fear in the bimbo's eyes. "Now Trevor, all you've got to do is choose a case. Which one will it be?"

He closed his eyes. This must be some kind of nightmare, he thought. Nightmare or not, that knockdown was pretty painful. He decided to go along just to avoid more of that.

"Three," he said quietly. The crowd quieted as they waited for Chrissi to reveal the contents of briefcase #3.

The briefcase opened to reveal a small placard with an icon on it. The icon was of a man's face, but as he looked it seemed to swim in and out of focus of its own accord. Jessie clapped her hands with delight and spun .

"First case is a good one, folks! This case will permanently alter your personhood. You have four options!

"Option one: Girl When Mad. In this case, you'll find that your biological sex and gender are tied to your emotional state - namely, your anger. You'll find that the angrier you get, the more your body will change to that of a woman. Your body language and bearing will also become increasingly feminine. I'm sure you'll find that infuriating, which is what makes this one so fun!

"Option two: Undefined. If you choose this option, you'll find that nobody can quite figure out who or what you are, including yourself. You probably have hair, although what shape and color is hard to tell by looking. Your eyes are definitely a color, although nobody can tell by looking what it is. Your height, age, sex, and all physical characteristics will become undefined, meaning no one can tell what they are. Again, that includes yourself!

"Option three: Talk of the town. Everything someone says about you becomes true. If Chrissi here says you're pretty, you become pretty. If I call you an idiot, don't plan on going to grad school. Think of all the names you've been called. If you cut someone off in traffic and they mutter to themselves that you're a bitch, well, let's hope you get a nice body to compensate for that horrible personality.

"Option four: Historical diceroll. Every day you'll wake up with the body and mind of a random person from sometime and somewhere in the world. You'll retain all of your memories and understanding of who you are (as well as the basic skills needed to navigate your world), but your body, personality, and mind will be that of someone else. You may be a struggling postwar Polish novelist, or an ancient Chaldean shepherd, or a homeless woman from New York in the 70's. Of course, if you choose this we'll be picking new roles for you regularly throughout the game."

Trevor stared at her, mouth agape. What the fuck was she talking about? For the first time it occurred to him how much danger he was really in. This woman was deeply, deeply insane. He could see it now in her intensely hateful gaze and rictus grin.

"Time to answer, Trevor! What's it gonna be?"