Straight to the Con The New World of SwapTech chapter 5 by deleted_user

Jonas stepped out of the SwapPort facility and into the California morning, and the first thing he noticed was the breeze.

It hit his bare arms, his neck, his chest in ways he'd never felt before. The thin tank top did nothing to buffer the sensation, and he crossed his arms instinctively, feeling the soft press of his new breasts against his forearms.

Weird. So weird.

He'd made a decision: he wasn't going to bother with a costume. What was the point? He'd come to the con to see panels, check out exclusive merchandise, maybe meet a few online friends he'd been gaming with for years. They wouldn't care what he looked like. And wearing some female version of a cosplay — some hypersexualized "sexy [character]" getup — felt like admitting defeat. Like saying, yes, I'm a woman now, let me lean into it.

No. He was Jonas. He'd go as Jonas. In street clothes.

The walk to the convention center took about fifteen minutes. The sidewalks filled with people as he got closer — con-goers in various states of cosplay, from elaborate armor to simple t-shirts with logos. A group of guys in matching Destiny fireteam cosplay walked past him, laughing, and one of them glanced at Jonas. Did a double take. Smiled.

Jonas looked away, his cheeks warming.

He's checking me out. He thinks I'm a hot girl walking to the con.

It was the strangest feeling — being seen. Noticed. Evaluated. He'd never been a particularly visible person in his male body. Just another guy in a hoodie. But now? Now people's eyes lingered.

The convention center loomed ahead, a massive glass-and-steel structure draped with banners of superheroes and anime characters. Jonas joined the line at the entrance, pulled out his phone to show his digital ticket—and realized his phone was in a small locker back at the SwapPort.

Shit.

He'd left everything in the pod. His wallet, his phone, his hotel key. All of it was back in his original body's belongings, stored in a secure compartment that he'd need his confirmation code to open.

Jonas stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, people flowing around him like water around a rock.

I have no phone. No wallet. No way to get into my hotel room. No way to buy anything.

He looked down at himself — barefoot, in yoga pants and a tank top, a woman with no belongings and no plan.

"Okay," he muttered, and the voice that came out wasn't his. "Okay. Think."

He could see the convention center entrance. He could see people flashing badges, laughing, taking photos. He could smell the food court from here.

But he had nothing. Not even a way to prove who he was.