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The tight fabric of the black hijab clung to Jacob's body like a second skin, restricting his movements and forcing him to move slowly and carefully, so as not to trip on the hem. Underneath the streetwear, the tight fit around his hips made the thin thong feel like it was digging into his ass, causing an unfamiliar discomfort. His chest, clearly larger than the bra cups, bounced with each step, making the bra's underwire dig into his soft skin. Even worse, his hips and ass moved on their own, swaying with such force that he could literally feel it with every step. Each movement reminded Jacob that his body no longer belonged to him, and that feeling was the worst of all.
He carefully stepped over the uneven ground, trying not to stumble in the narrow sandals. His gaze accidentally caught his own shadow— a feminine figure with rounded curves, the gentle sway of the hips, which was the complete opposite of his muscular US Army officer's body. His fingers involuntarily brushed over the thin fabric of the scarf tightly wrapped around his head, slightly rubbing against the skin at the back of his neck.
The house he needed to get to was ahead. It didn’t look different from the others in this village: worn-out brickwork, a crooked door, and a dusty yard. But the intel assured him that inside there was a hard drive with encrypted information about the plans of a major terrorist group. Jacob didn’t even know what he was getting into when he took the assignment. All they told him was that it would only be for a day, a secret mission using some new, cutting-edge technologies. He could never have imagined there was such a thing—body-swapping technology.
"I'm a professional. I just need to go in, grab the disk, and leave," Jacob repeated to himself, trying to sound confident as he opened the door to the house. Inside, the sharp smell of spices and stale air hit his nose. It was a small kitchen, simply furnished: a wooden table covered with an old oilcloth, a few metal bowls on the shelves, and a gas stove, blackened from soot.
Jacob quickly scanned the room. At first glance, there were no visible cameras, but he knew better than to relax too soon. According to the intel, he could get to the back room, where the laptop with the needed information was supposedly stored, through the kitchen. He mentally ran through the house plan, which he had studied the day before.
— Hadiya! Where have you been for so long?!
Jacob jumped at the unexpected sound, his hand instinctively reaching for his belt where his gun usually hung. Of course, there was no weapon— instead, he felt the curve of his hip and the thin fabric of the hijab that slid against his skin. His hips, as if by inertia, swayed to the side, moving gently and emphasizing the femininity that sent shivers down Jacob’s spine. The weight of his chest bounced down, the bra digging uncomfortably into his shoulders, while the tight thong dug even deeper into his skin, reminding him of its constant, unnatural tightness.
A short, middle-aged woman with a tired face and a wary gaze appeared in the doorway. She stared at Jacob, waiting for an answer.
Jacob quickly realized he had to act and recalled the cover story he had been given before the mission. Her name was Hadiya. She— that is, now she— was the beloved wife of one of the most influential militants in the area. This gave her a certain level of freedom, but also required her to behave in a particular way. Jacob straightened up, trying to look confident, but even that felt strange in this body—soft shoulders, fluid movements, and overly light hands.