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Mike hated his father.
He hated every one of his dad’s idiotic ideas, which usually ended in disaster. But today… today the old man outdid himself. “Body swap for a day,” that’s what he called it. Officially, it was labeled "Corporate Team Building," but everyone knew the truth — just another stunt to get attention for the company.
The procedure took place in the morning. As a VIP, Mike underwent it separately from the other employees, in one of the company’s most luxurious offices. Everything seemed perfect: a comfy chair, white sterile walls, and a machine that looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. The lab technician, smiling professionally, injected Mike with the serum, and in the next moment, his consciousness sank into darkness.
When he woke up, something felt off. The lab tech shot him a quick, surprised glance, as if something hadn’t gone according to plan. But Mike didn’t dwell on it. Two hours had passed since the swap, and now he sat at a desk cluttered with papers and odd trinkets that seemed to belong to the secretary named Tiffany, according to the name badge he was wearing.
Long fingers with a perfect manicure drummed nervously on the desk. A tight pink suit squeezed against a massive chest, the skirt strained against the hips, and the heels he was forced to wear were already killing him. It all irritated him to the core, but he tried not to show it. ‘They know who I am,’ he kept repeating to himself, but the nagging thought that something had gone wrong lingered at the edge of his mind.
“Uh… Tiffany,” came the voice of Mike’s “boss” — one of the warehouse workers now playing the role. She knew who he really was. Everyone did, but the rules of this absurd game required them to pretend everything was normal. As if he were actually Tiffany, the dumb blonde secretary who sat at this very desk every day. And for some reason, now, hours into the workday, she chose to make this strange comment: “Why aren’t you wearing any makeup today?”
Mike shot her a glare, showing just how absurd the question was. But it only seemed to give her more authority. “It’s unprofessional, Tiffany. You know the rules,” she added, with a nervous chuckle, her gaze darting to one of the many office cameras recording their every move. “Go fix yourself up. In the ladies' room… now!” she added, her voice shaking slightly.
‘Is she serious? Ordering me around? Makeup? Fix myself up?’ Mike wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but inside, he was boiling with humiliation and anger. His own rugged, masculine face felt utterly out of place against this fragile, feminine body. His shoulders tensed as if trying to shrink from the unwanted attention.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he spat, feeling the anger rise. But his new, high-pitched voice — Tiffany’s voice — sounded annoyingly soft, which only made him angrier.
“Did you say something, Tiffany?” Her tone suddenly hardened, and Mike saw her grow more confident. She knew he couldn’t refuse. The cameras were watching their every move, and everyone knew their roles in this insane show. The online views had already climbed into the hundreds of thousands, and countless people were watching this unfold.
Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. The entire day felt unreal, like he’d been thrown into some bizarre dream. But the dream was reality. The weight on his chest, the tight skirt, the uncomfortable heels — none of it let him forget that for a second. And now this…
He looked at his “boss,” who was watching him with barely concealed fear but a serious enough expression.
“And what about my meeting with Mr. Bennett? Did you tell everyone?” she asked, her nervous smile betraying that she wasn’t sure what to do next.
Mike clenched his teeth, trying to contain his irritation. Her question was clearly an attempt to lighten the mood and make everything seem “business as usual,” but inside, he was boiling at the absurdity of it all.
“I… yeah… I scheduled the damn meeting,” Mike growled, but Tiffany’s sweet voice made the words sound far less menacing than he’d hoped.
Without another word, he stood up, struggling to keep his balance on the high heels. His feet immediately throbbed with pain. The first step was awkward, his body swayed, and he had to put out a hand to steady himself, feeling the unfamiliar weight of his new chest sway heavily with the movement. ‘I hate that old man,’ he thought again as he walked out into the main office.
Part 2