Darkness enveloped Hana like a warm, velvet blanket. She floated in a void, weightless and untethered, her mind a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations drawn from the pages of her beloved BL novels. It started innocently enough, gentle drift into familiar territory. She was the protagonist in "Rivals in Heat," her all-time favorite, but this time, she wasn't just reading; she was living it.
In her coma-induced haze, Hana found herself on a misty soccer field at dusk, the air thick with the scent of fresh-cut grass and impending rain. She was Kai, the stoic striker, facing off against Ryo, the cocky rival with eyes like smoldering coals. "You think you can beat me?" Ryo taunted, his voice a low raspy growl that sent shivers down her spine. He lunged forward, with a magnetic pull, their bodies colliding in a tackle that morphed into an embrace.
Hana-..no, Kai, gasped as Ryo's hands gripped her waist, pulling her close. "Admit it," Ryo whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, "this rivalry was just an excuse to get closer."
The scene blurred, shifting seamlessly into another fantasy from "Eternal Thirst." Now she was the human lover, cornered in a gothic castle by a vampire lord with fangs glistening under moonlight. He pinned her against a stone wall, his cold fingers tracing her collarbone. "Your blood calls to me, my handsome bloodsack" he murmured, leaning in for a bite that promised ecstasy rather than pain.
The visions cascaded like a fever dream, each more vivid than the last. She dove into "The King's Secret Consort," where she was the hidden Eunuch lover in a royal court, stolen moments in opulent chambers with a brooding monarch whose stern facade cracked only for his Lovely Eunuch.
Then "Whispers in the Dojo," sparring with a martial arts master whose every block and strike was laced with unspoken desire. Sweaty bodies, heated glances, the thrill of forbidden touches, it was BL heaven, an endless loop of tropes that fed her obsession.
Enemies turning lovers, Strong Muscular protectors shielding their beloved timid men, stoic semes melting for playful ukes. Hana reveled in it, her heart pounding with excitement. No loneliness here, no invisibility. She was desired, pursued, central to the drama. But beneath the bliss, a faint unease stirred, because this world was too perfect, too scripted. It was just her mind's desperate escape from the pain of her fall.
Time lost meaning in the coma. Hours? Days? It felt eternal, yet fleeting. Sometimes Whispers echoed in the back of her mind, distant voices of doctors, perhaps, or nurses checking her vitals in the Willbrook University infirmary. "Stable, but unresponsive," one said faintly. "Concussion from the fall. We'll monitor her." But Hana pushed them away, sinking deeper into her fantasies. One final scene enveloped her: a locker room straight out of her wildest fanfics, surrounded by shirtless athletes, steam rising from showers, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. And then, abruptly, the dream shifted. A sharp pain exploded in her head, and the world spun.
Hana's eyes fluttered open to a blinding afternoon sun, the sky a brilliant blue overhead. Grass tickled her cheek, and the earthy smell of turf filled her nostrils. She blinked, disoriented, her body feeling... different. Heavy. Muscular. Not her slender frame at all. Groaning, she pushed herself up on elbows that were far too toned, staring down at hands that weren't hers– large, calloused, with veins prominent from years of training. Her gaze traveled lower: a soccer jersey clung to a chiseled chest, shorts hugging powerful thighs. What the hell?
"Adrian! Dude, you okay?" A voice boomed nearby, and Hana–...no, this body–...looked up to see a group of guys in matching Willbrook Warriors uniforms crowding around. One of them, a burly defender with a shaved head and a concerned frown, extended a hand. "Sorry, man. That was rough. I didn't mean to tackle you that hard."
Hana's mind reeled. Adrian? As in Adrian Vega, the star striker? She glanced around the field, the familiar Willbrook pitch, cones set up for drills, the distant bleachers empty under the September sun. It was practice day, the afternoon session before tomorrow's big match against Easton. But how was she here? In his body? Memories flooded back: the stairs, the phone, the tumble. The coma. This had to be a dream....a hyper-realistic one fueled by her BL binge and that last chapter she'd been reading. Yeah, that made sense. Her obsession had finally cracked her subconscious wide open. A body-swap fantasy? Classic trope! She almost laughed. If this was a dream, why not roll with it? No consequences, right? Just pure, unadulterated fanservice.
Grinning inwardly, she took the defender's hand, his name tag read "Tyler" and let him pull her up. Adrian's body moved with such an effortless grace that Hana had never felt in her own body, muscles responding like a well-oiled machine. "I'm fine," she said, her voice deep and resonant, Adrian's baritone. Whoa, that felt weird. But exciting. "Just got the wind knocked out of me."
The team captain, Daniel "Dan" Chukwuma, clapped her on the back. "Good to see you're alright, Vega. Let's wrap this up, coach wants us hitting the weights after." The others nodded, dispersing back to their positions, but Hana caught a few sidelong glances. Adrian's reputation for being serious and disciplined probably made her casual brush-off seem out of character. Oh well, dream logic.
Practice resumed with a few more drills, passing exercises, sprints, and a mini-scrimmage. Hana, inhabiting Adrian's athletic form, fumbled at first. Her real body wasn't built for this; she tripped over the ball once, earning a chuckle from the team. But Adrian's muscle memory kicked in, and soon she was dribbling like a pro, the thrill of it all buzzing through her. The sun beat down, sweat beading on her.....his, skin, and she stole glances at her teammates. Julien Morel, the broody goalkeeper, dove for saves with intensity, his shirt riding up to reveal abs that could grate cheese. Dan barked orders with stern authority, his broad shoulders flexing. Even Tyler, the defender who'd tackled her, moved with power. It was like being dropped into a live-action BL novel. *This is heaven,* she thought, her inner fangirl squealing. *All these sweaty guys, rivalries waiting to ignite... I could ship anyone here!... everyone!*
The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. The team jogged off the field, heading to the locker room adjacent to the stadium, a utilitarian space with rows of metal lockers, benches, and communal showers that Hana had only ever imagined in her fantasies. As they filed in, the air hit her like a wave: musky sweat, soap, and testosterone. Guys stripped off their jerseys without a second thought, revealing torsos sculpted from hours of training.
'Jesus J. Christ' Hana thought while taking it all in. One player Marcus? No, wait, Marcus was the rival from Easton, laughed and slapped another's back, water bottles clinking. Hana's eyes widened behind Adrian's composed facade. *Oh my god, this feels too real. Shirtless hunks everywhere. This is the locker room scene I've dreamed of!*
She lingered by her locker, Adrian's, marked with his name, pretending to untie her cleats while sneaking peeks. Julien peeled off his gloves, his dark hair matted with sweat, expression unreadable as always. Dan toweled his neck, chatting about strategy. Tyler flexed his arms, complaining about a bruise. The sight was overwhelming: broad backs, defined pecs, droplets of sweat tracing paths down spines. Hana's mind raced with BL scenarios, *What if Julien corners me? Or Dan offers a massage?* Her heart pounded, a flush creeping up her neck. But then, something else stirred. A unfamiliar warmth pooled low in her belly, a pulsing sensation that made her freeze. She shifted uncomfortably, glancing down.
Adrian's shorts tented noticeably, the fabric straining against an insistent erection. Hana's eyes bulged. *What the-..? Oh no, no, no!* Blood rushed southward, the hardness throbbing in a way that was both alien and mortifying. In her real body, arousal was subtle, internal, wet. But this? This was blatant, impossible to ignore. *I'm... he's... hard? From looking at the guys?* Panic surged. This dream was getting *too too* real. Clutching her groin awkwardly, she scanned the room, face burning. No one had noticed yet, they were too busy showering or changing, but if she didn't move, someone would.
Mumbling something about needing a minute, she bolted for the private shower stalls at the back, the ones reserved for coaches or injured players. Slamming the door shut, she leaned against it, breathing hard. The erection persisted, a insistent reminder of her new anatomy. *Calm down, Hana. It's just a dream. Think unsexy thoughts, grandpas, taxes, bad fanfic endings.* She paced the tiny space, the cool tiles grounding her. Outside, she heard the team banter, water running, lockers slamming. Minutes ticked by, five, ten, twenty. The noise faded as guys finished up and left, calling goodbyes. Finally, silence.
Peeking out, Hana confirmed the locker room was empty. *Phew. Crisis averted.* She stepped out, still in Adrian's practice gear, planning to grab his stuff and... what? Wake up? But as she turned the corner, she collided chest-first with a solid wall of muscle.
"Whoa, easy there, Vega." Tyler steadied her with a firm grip on her arms, his brow furrowed. Up close, he was even more imposing, tall, with a jaw like granite and eyes that sparkled with concern. "You sure you're okay? You've been acting weird since that tackle. If I concussed you, coach'll have my head."
Hana stared, her mind short-circuiting. Tyler's touch sent a spark through Adrian's body, the proximity straight out of a BL confrontation scene. *Enemies reconciling? Or something more?* But the erection, though fading, reminded her this wasn't just fantasy. Swallowing hard, she forced a grin. "I'm good. Just... needed some space."
Tyler nodded slowly, releasing her but not stepping back. "Alright. See you at weights tomorrow. And sorry again." He clapped her shoulder, hard enough to jolt, and headed out, leaving Hana alone with her racing thoughts.
As the door clicked shut, she sank onto a bench, head in hands, waiting for the dream to come to and end or at least transition to another BL Novel of hers, as this one felt way too real with all the real life characters involved.