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– Damn, damn, damn! – I hissed, jumping in place and looking around in panic. A line from the instructions flashed in my mind: "You’ll find several outfits in the bedroom closet. Please choose an appropriate one."
I bolted, practically skidding across the kitchen floor, and dashed toward the bedroom. Long hair tickled the back of my neck, and my chest bounced with every step, making the whole situation feel surreal—but I didn’t stop. The bedroom door flew open, and I burst inside, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. Where’s the closet? Oh, there it is!
Shaking with urgency, I grabbed the closet door and yanked it open without thinking twice about what might be inside. Shelves and hangers neatly arranged with clothes—women’s clothes. My eyes darted across the array: dresses, skirts, blouses, even some kind of sweater… Everything looked so feminine and delicate that I almost felt sick.
– Damn it, faster! – I whispered to myself, tossing the robe to the floor and frantically flipping through the hangers. The footsteps outside the door were getting louder. I grabbed the first thing I saw. It was a tight navy-blue skirt, clearly made for a body with a narrow waist and soft curves. I yanked it off the hanger, trying to pull it on in a hurry. The fabric resisted like it had a will of its own, and my now-too-wide hips got stuck halfway. I tugged with all my strength until I felt the material stretch to its limit, squeezing my waist and hips so tightly I could barely move.
With the skirt finally in place, I grabbed something that looked like a top. It turned out to be a white blouse, covered in tiny buttons down the front. I started throwing it on, only to hit an unexpected snag—the fabric caught uncomfortably on my chest, refusing to settle properly.
– What the hell is wrong with this body?! – I cursed, feeling my chest bounce and snag on the inside of the blouse with every move. Gritting my teeth, I kept struggling to button it up, but my new, thin fingers made the task nearly impossible. Long nails caught on the fabric, making it even harder to grab the tiny, slippery buttons. Every move felt like a fight against my own hands, which now seemed to belong to someone else entirely. Frustrated, I gripped one button between my nails and tried to fasten it, only for my nail to slip, nearly poking myself in the chest.
– Goddamn it! – I muttered through gritted teeth.
After a painful struggle with another button, I moved to the next one. The blouse clung tighter and tighter to my chest, emphasizing its volume, which I desperately tried to ignore. The strain of the fabric over my chest felt almost palpable. The moment I fastened the last button, one of them suddenly popped off with a soft snap, as if the fabric had given up under the pressure.
– What the… – I froze, staring at the gaping hole where a lacy piece of the bra peeked through. My cheeks burned with irritation and humiliation. My new high-pitched voice, which I loathed with every fiber of my being, broke into an irritated squeak as I grabbed my head, nearly yanking out my hair.
– Poluszka? – A low, husky voice called out from the hallway in Polish, freezing me in place. It was him. The “husband.”
My heart pounded like crazy. I stood there, trying not to make a sound, but the footsteps kept getting closer. He was already at the bedroom door. I frantically tugged the blouse downward, trying to hide the gap between the buttons.
The door opened, and Marek appeared in the doorway. His imposing frame filled the entire entrance like a mountain, casting a shadow over the room. To my new, fragile body, he seemed almost monstrously large. Broad shoulders, a solid chest accentuated by a simple work sweater, and powerful hands with calloused fingers looked like they could crush me with ease if he wanted to. His face held an expression of mild surprise mixed with exhaustion.
– Pola, what are you doing in here? Everything okay? – His voice was low and slightly raspy. He spoke in Polish, as if I had spoken nothing else my entire life.
I stood frozen, feeling the tension in the room rise. My body felt glued to the spot, and my legs refused to move. He was so big, so real, that I involuntarily swallowed hard.
– I… – The words stuck in my throat. My new, high-pitched voice, which I despised, betrayed me with a nervous tremor. Taking a deep breath, I tried to pull myself together. – Everything’s fine. Just… getting changed.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he suspected something. I noticed him glance at the gap between the blouse’s buttons and the lace peeking through. His lips twitched into a faint smile as his gaze dropped lower to the skirt, which seemed ready to burst at the seams over my hips.
He’s looking at me like he’s undressing me with his eyes, I thought, and a wave of anger and humiliation surged in my throat. What the hell?! This is just an experiment! We’re both participants! So why is he looking at me like I’m really Apolonia? Like this is actually his life and I’m really his wife?
– What’s with the outfit? – he asked lazily, leaning against the doorframe. His tone was relaxed, but his gaze continued to study my new body intently. That look… It made my skin crawl.
“Outfit?!” Mike nearly ground his teeth in humiliation. What the hell does this brute think he’s doing? This is an experiment, damn it! We’re both in this together! But Marek kept looking at him as though there wasn’t just another victim of scientific madness standing before him, but a real wife. And the way he looked carried an obvious implication that made Mike wish he could vanish into thin air.
Marek, still leaning casually against the doorframe, suddenly sniffed the air. His gaze softened, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.
– Mmm, smells good, Pola, – he said, stepping into the room. His voice dropped slightly, becoming almost velvety. – Love your vegetable stew. You nailed it; I’ve been thinking about it all day.