Write, "Old rule, 98% of people are incredibly beautiful and sexy women"

You write the words carefully in the notebook, your hand steady despite the magnitude of what you're doing. The moment you finish the sentence, you set down the pen and wait.

Nothing happens. No flash of light, no sound, no sensation whatsoever. But then, that's how it worked before too—reality simply adjusts.

You stand up from your desk and walk to the window, looking down at the street below. What you see makes your breath catch. Where before there had been the usual mix of people walking by—men, women, old, young—now the sidewalk is populated almost entirely by women. And not just any women. Every single one of them is stunning. A jogger passes by in tight athletic wear, her body perfectly toned, her features striking. Two women chat outside the coffee shop across the street, both of them magazine-cover beautiful. A delivery driver climbs out of her truck, tall and gorgeous with an athletic build.

You turn away from the window, your heart racing. You grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling through your contacts. The profile pictures have changed. Your cousin Derek's contact now shows... Derika? The photo shows a beautiful woman with the same warm smile you remember, but everything else is different. Your buddy James from high school is now... you're not even sure. The contact just shows a gorgeous woman you don't recognize but somehow know is the same person.

You open Instagram. Your feed is transformed. Every post, every story, nearly every account is a woman. Beautiful women. The few men you see—maybe one in every fifty posts—look like regular guys, but they're surrounded by women who look like they stepped out of fashion magazines.

A text comes through from Marcus: 'Hey man, you coming tonight? Riverside Gallery, 7pm. Could be good for networking.' You stare at the name. Is Marcus still Marcus? You're not sure anymore. The profile picture shows someone whose features you recognize but who is now undeniably female and breathtaking.

You walk to your bathroom and look in the mirror. You're still you—still male, still the same face you've always had. Apparently, you're part of that remaining 2 percent. You're one of the few men left in the world.

The implications start to hit you. Your mother, your grandmother, your male friends from childhood—they're all women now. Always have been, according to reality. The world has restructured itself around this new rule. History, culture, everything has adjusted to accommodate a world where 98 percent of people are beautiful women.

Your phone buzzes again. Another text, this one from your landlord reminding you about rent. The name reads 'Patricia Chen' but you have a dim memory of... no, it's gone. Reality has rewritten itself, and only you remember how things used to be.