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"What's there now? Probably just more spam," – Adriana thought irritably, pulling out her phone from her small purse and plopping down onto the cold leather sofa in the "Eclipse" club's dressing room.
Her impressive breasts once again bumped against her wrist, making her flinch. Those two pieces of silicone she was now forced to carry reminded her that even after a month in this body, she still hadn't gotten used to it.
She casually swiped across the screen and immediately tensed up. A message from government authorities.
"Just what I needed..." – she thought, opening the notification.
🔔 "Notification of non-compliance with the requirements of the Social Reconstruction Program"
"What the...?" – her eyes quickly darted across the text.
"Based on a complaint from your employer and a review of your behavior, the court has ruled: Your correction program is extended by one additional month. Further violations may result in additional adjustments to your program, including mental ones."
— WHAT?! — she blurted out loud.
— Oh, Adri, you look especially cute today, — came a mocking voice.
At the other end of the dressing room, sitting in front of the mirror and fixing the glitter on her eyelids, Lola Charm sat in nothing but a shiny bra and thong, lazily glancing at Adriana's unhappy face and, smirking, reaching for her comb.
— So, what's up with you now? Judging by your sour face, you either got your period or something more serious, — Lola giggled, lazily running the comb through her long light hair.
Adriana clenched the phone in her hands so tightly that her long nails almost dug into her palm. Another month. ONE MORE MONTH in this humiliating hell. In this cheap shack, with these fucking breasts, in these fishnet stockings, surrounded by sweaty guys drooling over her "new" body. She couldn’t even drink properly — vodka acted differently on her new body than it used to. Everything that had once been at her fingertips, money, connections, power, was now a thing of the past. And the worst part was, she couldn’t talk to anyone about it except this sarcastic Lola, because all her old friends, contacts, everything else was blocked in her memory by artificial interference. Of course, she remembered everything, but even the faces of people from the life of Edrian Volsky, the 35-year-old millionaire, heir to a construction empire, known for his cynical attitude towards women, rudeness, and habit of "buying" any problems, were now blurred in his memory.
— Fucking Morozov, — she spat through her teeth, slamming her phone onto the leather sofa.
— Oh, did the Storm hurt your feelings? Well, you know him. He likes when girls behave... compliant, — Lola glanced at her in the mirror, stretching her lips into a sly smile. — Though you're not exactly a girl, are you?
Adriana flushed.