Just now when I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong. My room looked different. Sure, being an orphan and having a history of couch-hopping, I was used to strange surroundings. But this wasn't the usual "I slept on a buddy's couch" or "landlord switched my unit without telling me" different.
No, this was *different-different*.
I yawned, wide enough to rival a lion, and stretched like it was the first good sleep I'd had in years. Not that I remembered going to bed in this... wherever this was. It felt like the last thing I'd done was... wait, what was it? My brain was fuzzy.
"Oh, yeah," I muttered. "Thought I had a heart attack...?" I scratched my head, trying to piece it together. "Shouldn't I be in a hospital or something?"
I got up, groggy, blinking in the morning light, and headed toward where I assumed the bathroom was. Only to have reality literally smack me in the face.
*Bam!*
"Son of a—" I muttered, holding my forehead. "Nothing like starting the day with a concussion." I rubbed my head, still disoriented and annoyed that I hadn't found my bathroom. "Either I was sleepwalking again or… did I somehow end up in someone else's room?"
The fuzzy feeling in my head lifted enough for me to vaguely remember last night. I'd finished my shift, bought some instant noodles on my way home, and then…
I paused. "Wait, didn't I—didn't I collapse?" I tried to laugh it off, but the pit in my stomach said I hadn't imagined it. I *had* collapsed, and if that wasn't the world's worst nightmare, I didn't know what was.
But then again, my head wasn't pounding (other than from meeting the wall), my vision was clear, and my body… actually felt kind of good.
Before I could wrap my head around it, I heard a soft *knock knock knock* on the door.
"Peter, darling, are you alright?" A woman's voice drifted in from the hallway.
"Peter?" I echoed. *Peter?* My name was… I was pretty sure it wasn't Peter.
"Are you hurt? I heard a bang from your room!" The woman sounded concerned. Maybe mid-30s? Young enough to be a sister, but old enough to have a mom tone.
I snapped back to the present, plastering on a friendly tone. "Uh, yeah, I'm alright!" I called back, trying to mask the "help, I think I'm in a stranger's house" vibe in my voice.
"Oh, thank goodness," she said, sounding relieved. "You scared the life out of me! Breakfast is ready, so wash up and come downstairs, okay? And please hurry; I have to get to the hospital early today."
Footsteps retreated down the hall, leaving me standing there, stunned.
So, let's get this straight. I woke up in someone else's room, and there's a woman outside calling me Peter. I looked around. No familiar posters, no childhood knickknacks or junk piles. And I'm… I'm a *clean freak.* I can guarantee this place has about six percent of the clutter my real room would have.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the only other door in the room—the bathroom, presumably. With my luck, it would turn out to be a closet or maybe a broom cupboard. But lo and behold, when I opened it, it was a bathroom, complete with a mirror.
"Okay," I muttered, stepping up to the sink. "Moment of truth." I looked up, meeting my own gaze, and froze.
Staring back at me was a face I recognized. Sharp jawline, tousled brown hair, and deep, expressive eyes. Handsome in a way that screamed "movie star" rather than "average guy." It was like looking into the mirror and seeing a superhero staring back.
"I look like Andrew Garfield," I whispered, horrified and weirdly intrigued.
I poked my face, half-expecting it to be some hyper-realistic mask or something. Nope. The face moved as I did, no seams, no glue edges. Just a younger, somehow… superhuman version of myself.
And then it hit me.
The woman called me *Peter.* I looked like *Andrew Garfield.* And *she* looked like—
"Oh my God. This has to mean… I'm…" I took a step back, barely able to contain the realization.
Author: "Congrats! You're Peter Parker from The Amazing Spider-Man."
Me: "...Or I was kidnapped by a woman with a roleplay fetish who surgically altered me to look like Andrew Garfield so she could…" (sighs) Never mind.
Either way, I needed to escape. Unless she was attractive, then… maybe not.
I decided I needed more proof. I spotted a smartphone lying on the desk, blinking with a notification. Out of curiosity, I picked it up and unlocked it with a finger scan (which, to my relief, worked perfectly). I scrolled through the messages, hoping for some kind of clue.
**Gwen Stacy**: "Peter, where are you? We're supposed to be at Osborn's!"
**Gwen Stacy**: "Peter, hurry up!!"
**Gwen Stacy**: "Peter, where the heck are you?"
I almost dropped the phone. "Gwen Stacy?" I whispered, feeling my brain short-circuit.
Wait. I look like Andrew Garfield. I'm getting texts from Gwen Stacy. And a woman outside thinks I'm Peter. So… does that mean I got transmigrated? Am I actually Peter Parker?
I'm in Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker's body, and Gwen Stacy is texting me like we're best friends. Or something.
"I'm Peter Parker. I'm Peter Parker in *The Amazing Spider-Man* universe."
I blinked, trying to wrap my head around this revelation. "I'm actually Peter Parker." A grin spread across my face. This was… kind of awesome.
But before I could dive into a fanboy moment, a rogue thought broke through the excitement.
"Wait a second…" I said, "Does that mean I have superpowers? Spider-sense? Web-slinging?"
There was only one way to find out. I flicked my wrist, praying a web would shoot out. My heart raced with anticipation…
And… nothing. No webs, not even a spark. I flicked my wrist again, trying to remember if there was some kind of *magic word* or maybe I had to concentrate harder, but the only thing I managed to do was look like I was swatting at an invisible fly.
Great. I'm Peter Parker, just without the spider skills. The world's most useless superhero.
Or it isn't the time yet for the spider bite yet. I might have comw before the bite. Yeah that's right.
My inner nerd was having a meltdown, and I needed to know more. So, I quickly went online, scrolling through some headlines, hoping to find a date or location that might confirm my suspicion.
And then I saw it: the day's top headline.
**"STARK INDUSTRIES? MORE LIKE STARK INTIMACIES! TONY'S WILD NIGHT OUT WITH MODELS."**
That was it. That was the confirmation I needed. This wasn't just the *Amazing Spider-Man* universe; it was a mash-up of universes. Tony Stark, here? In *my* world, he was only a movie character. But now he's a playboy billionaire in the real world, partying it up with models?
"I'm definitely in an alternate universe," I whispered, feeling both awed and slightly terrified. A world where *I'm* Peter Parker, and Tony Stark is out there making headlines.
After taking a moment to breathe (and maybe freak out a little), I pulled myself together and got dressed. I grabbed some clean clothes from the small closet (props to Peter for actually having taste) and mentally braced myself.
Heading downstairs, I steeled myself for breakfast with the woman who had been calling out earlier. If my guess was correct, this woman would be Aunt May.
And boy, was I right.
She was beautiful, in that effortlessly charming way. And not like the elderly Aunt May from the old Tobey Maguire movies. No, this Aunt May looked more like the *Marisa Tomei* version, the "cool aunt" type. She looked up as I entered the kitchen, a warm smile spreading across her face.
"There you are!" she said, getting up to set a plate of food in front of me. "You didn't forget you have school today, did you?"
I tried to keep my face neutral, giving my best "innocent Peter Parker" nod, though internally, I was both thrilled and mildly terrified at the concept of going back to high school in an alternate universe.
"No, I, uh… I remember," I stammered, trying to play it cool.
She chuckled, ruffling my hair. "You're a strange one, Peter, but you'll do just fine. Eat up."
As she walked off, I looked down at my food, grinning like an idiot. It's not every day you get transmigrated into the life of Spider-Man.
My adventure was just beginning.
A/N:
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