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She waved toward the coat rack with the uniform. The simple blue outfit hung next to a box, which, judging by the scent of cleaning products, probably contained cleaning supplies.
– This? – I spat in English, raising an eyebrow skeptically as I looked at the jumpsuit with the school logo.
The woman nodded, her mocking grin still in place.
– Yeah, that. You’re not planning to work in your fancy dress, are you?
I slowly turned my gaze toward the sundress that was still hanging on me. Its floral patterns and cute little bows suddenly seemed not just annoying, but downright mocking.
– Understand, – I muttered, not so much to her as to myself, moving toward the rack with the uniform.
Grabbing the jumpsuit, I froze for a second, staring hatefully at the blue piece of fabric with the stupid school logo. Everything in me screamed against wearing it, but there was no other way. Damn experiment and damn contract.
– Well, what are you stalling for? Change, Polya, – the woman called again, as if her goal was to get under my skin.
I turned toward her and nervously said:
– Możesz wyjść? (Can you leave?)
– What? – she asked, squinting. – Are you okay, Apolonia?
Shit. Of course, she doesn’t understand. I opened my mouth to say something in English, but my tongue twisted, and the words seemed stuck somewhere in my brain. I tried:
– You... go? Please? Change... I.
She blinked, as though I’d asked her to do a tap dance.
– Apolonia, let's skip the nonsense, – she said with a smile, looking at me like I was a spoiled child. – Why are you so weird today?
– Kurwa... (Fuck...) – I hissed, feeling anger and humiliation crashing over me in waves.
Fine. She won’t leave, and I need to change. I took a deep breath and turned my back to her.
– Oh, don’t be shy, – the woman teased. – We’re both women, after all.
I froze for a split second, gritting my teeth. “Both women?! I'm not even…” – I abruptly cut off the thought, realizing I was starting to sound pathetic, even in my own head.
– Super, kobiety… (Great, women…) – I muttered under my breath, forcing a fake smile.
I pulled the straps of the sundress off my shoulders, feeling the soft fabric slowly slide down, exposing the body I still couldn’t get used to. My breasts swung free, and I felt the strap of my bra slide off my shoulder, digging into my elbow and making me flinch from the sudden sensation. I irritably adjusted it, feeling the anger and humiliation rise again.
Left only in underwear, I felt the cold air of the room and glanced down at my cleavage and body. A narrow waist, wide hips, those damn lace panties and bra...
– So, lingerie model? – she teased, clearly noticing my discomfort.
– Możesz się zamknąć? (Can you shut up?) – I snapped, not even turning around.
She just smirked, which made me feel even worse.
Grabbing the jumpsuit, I quickly pulled it over my legs, immediately feeling the rough fabric rubbing uncomfortably against my skin. The pants got stuck on my hips, almost mocking me. I pulled harder, and the fabric dug into my skin, emphasizing the width of my new curves.
– Kurwa… (Shit...) – I muttered, trying to pull it up further.
– Polya, you’ll tear it like that, – she said sarcastically.
I remained silent, focusing on this torture. When I finally managed to pull the jumpsuit up to my waist, I was starting to feel like I couldn’t breathe from anger. It was too tight. Everything was too tight.
Next, I tackled the top. My breasts, which had already caused me enough trouble, now stood in my way. I tried to pull the fabric down, but it only wrinkled, pushing up against my damn breasts.
The fabric stretched slowly, as if it had been specially sewn for a person without breasts at all. Finally, I managed to pull the top on, but of course, the zipper refused to budge.
I yanked at it, and the zipper suddenly shot up, squeezing my breasts to the limit. The air felt like a precious resource. My breasts weren’t just emphasized now – they stuck out so much it looked like a mockery.
– Alright, let’s go, don’t forget the bucket and mop, and then you’ll tell me why you’re so lost today, – the woman said, patting me on the shoulder with a smile. The light slap made me shiver involuntarily.
I forced a tight smile, sighed heavily, and followed her into the hallway. The fabric of the jumpsuit stretched uncomfortably across my hips, and my breasts… damn breasts! They were squeezed so tight, it was hard to breathe.
The hallway was strangely quiet, only faint noises coming from afar. “Well, Polya, ready to be janitor of the year?” – I thought darkly, feeling irritation building up.
My phone. I suddenly realized I had left it in the room. “Shit!” – I muttered under my breath and stopped abruptly. The woman, walking ahead, turned around, raising an eyebrow.
– What’s up? – she asked with slight irritation.
– Telefon… zostawiłam... (Phone... I left...) – I mumbled.
She looked at me strangely but then waved her hand dismissively:
– You’re weird today. Alright, go get your phone, Polya.
I didn’t bother explaining, I just turned around and walked quickly back. My ballet flats clicked against the tiles, and at the turns, I caught myself noticing how the jumpsuit tightened around my hips, squeezing them even harder.
Entering the room, I immediately found my phone in that beige feminine disaster of a bag. Grabbing it, I wanted to head back, but the tight clothes reminded me of their presence. The fabric dug into my shoulders, my breasts were squeezed to the limit, and the belt cinched my waist so much I felt like I was wearing some cursed Victorian corset.
– Brilliant, – I muttered, clutching my phone. – Just the perfect day.
I exhaled, sat down on the nearest chair, and unlocked the screen. Opening the instructions turned out to be harder than I expected: my fingers were trembling, and my nails, which were now longer than I was used to, made it hard to press the buttons. Instead of the instructions, I accidentally opened the “Gallery” app.
The first photo nearly made me drop the phone.
On the screen was Marek. That damn giant was standing in front of a car, smiling at the camera, and next to him was me – or rather, Apolonia. That damn smile on her face, her arm wrapped around him. It looked so… real, that my mouth went dry.
I scrolled further. Another photo – Apolonia was standing in some garden, hugging a bouquet of flowers. Then a picture in school uniform – a childish smile, pigtails. Then the wedding. She was in a white dress, he in a black suit, and again those smiles.
– What the hell… – I whispered, feeling a mix of anger and terror shaking me.
The photos showed someone’s life. A real one. And that life now belonged to me.
I stared at the screen, not knowing what to do. My chest tightened with a strange mixture of anger and helplessness. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair, trying to process what was happening, but my head only grew more chaotic. Each photo held something that felt completely foreign, but now it was supposedly my “life.” My breasts were squeezed, breathing was hard, the phone was heating up in my hands, and the jumpsuit seemed to be squeezing every last ounce of patience out of me.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside the door and voices speaking in English, which, of course, I didn’t understand.