Ben, 25, Wakes up in an unfamiliar bed

You came to slowly, the world a blur of white and soft light. The first thing you noticed was the smell, clean laundry and something floral, not the stale coffee of your flat. The second thing you noticed was the weight on your chest. You tried to push yourself up, but your hand landed on something soft and unfamiliar.

You froze, your brain struggling to piece together the signals. Your hand was slender, smaller than they were. You looked down at yourself, lifted your covers and the world tilted again. A woman’s body, not just that, long blonde hair spilling across the pillow, 2, admittedly rather big breasts, each with a large pink nipple rested atop them.

You were a man, Ben, 25. The last thing you remember was the Tractor. Oh god, the Tractor. The accident, you had to contact someone... but, how? You had awoken, in an unfamiliar bed, unmistakably female, even if you could, they wouldn't recognise you, you weren't even sure this was a hospital.

Your heart pounded, a cold sweat breaking out on your brow. This had to be a dream, a hallucination from the crash. But the ache in your head, the strange new weight of your body, the way the sheets felt against your bare legs,it was all too real. You lay back, staring at the ceiling, your mind a white static of disbelief.

As the initial shock began to ebb, a detail crept in, nudging at the edges of your panic. The ceiling wasn't plaster or painted drywall. It was a smooth, seamless panel of something that looked like frosted glass, with a soft, ambient light pulsing from within it, casting no harsh shadows.

Your eyes traced the walls, and you saw no light switches, no sockets, no radiators. Instead, thin, hairline grooves ran along the baseboards, glowing with a faint blue luminescence.

On the bedside table, where you'd expect a lamp, there was a smooth, chrome disc. As you stared, it shimmered, and a holographic display flickered to life, showing your vitals, the time, and the weather, all in a sleek, minimalist font you'd never seen before. A low hum, a constant, almost subsonic thrum, vibrated through the bedframe.

A soft hiss broke the silence as a section of the wall slid open, revealing a doorway that hadn't been there a moment before. A man stepped through, and you had to crane your neck to take him in, he was easily 6 foot 7, with dark skin that seemed to absorb the ambient light, dressed in a fitted, one-piece garment of a deep charcoal material that shimmered like liquid metal as he moved. His face broke into a wide, relieved smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he crossed the room in two long strides and sat on the edge of the bed, his large hand gently covering yours.

"Oh thank the stars, you're awake," he said, his voice a low, warm rumble that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. "I've been so worried, my love. The doctors said the neural interface took, but they weren't sure when you'd surface." He squeezed your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles. "You had a terrible accident, Amber. The crash... it was worse than they first thought. They had to implant a chip, it was the only way to save you, it was very experimental, we had to leave earth, we're on a station orbiting Jupiter. I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small, buttonlesa, slab. "The chip keeping your brain alive, it came with this." He explained, "It can control your emotions, they insisted!" You stared at him, your mind a chaotic storm of denial and disbelief.

"A remote?" you managed to croak, your voice a stranger's. His smile didn't waver, but something in his eyes shifted, a flicker of something possessive.

"For your own good, my love, don't want another accident," he said, reaching into a pocket you hadn't noticed on his sleek suit. . "The implant is sophisticated, but it has... overrides. For your safety." He held it up, and with a soft click, your vision swam, a wave of artificial calm washing over you, your panic receding like a tide. You tried to fight it, to hold onto your anger, your fear, your identity as Ben, but the feeling was slipping away, replaced by a placid, almost euphoric acceptance.

"See? It's for your own good," he repeated, his voice now honeyed and absolute. "Now, rest." The last words you heard before falling asleep again.