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Part 1
The sound of water from the fountain splashing nearby slightly muffled the noise of cars and people talking. It should’ve been perfect — the sun wasn’t scorching yet, just gently caressing the shoulders, and a light breeze was playing with the edge of a tank top. But Artemas couldn’t really relax, because everything had gone completely sideways compared to what he had planned when, just for fun, he decided to try out the “BodyPort” service and spend three hours inside the body of some local dude — wanted to see Belgrade from the inside, from the perspective of a “regular Balkan guy,” as he’d joked. But now, instead of being in the body of a guy in shorts with rakija in hand — he was sitting in a body where even breathing felt different. Everything was different.
He — or rather, she now — was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, feeling how the warm pavement heated her ass even through the jeans, and with every passing minute, it became more and more clear that the tank top, which had seemed cool at first from her male point of view, wasn’t so great after all. The breasts she now had to call her own seemed like they were trying to spill out on purpose. More precisely, it was the dark lilac bra stretching the fabric so tight that everything turned into a display window. And the most annoying part — how it all felt. The pulling, the pressure, the rubbing.
Her gaze involuntarily stopped once again on a passing young guy who was taking a sip from a cold bottle, the drops of water running down the corners of his mouth, dripping onto his t-shirt — and without even realizing it, she bit her lip, staring at his torso.
— What the fuck... — she exhaled, trying to look away, but something inside, something completely new and unfamiliar, wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t just “oh, a cute guy,” not the usual “wonder what he looks like with that shirt off.” No, this was absolutely not what she expected to feel in this body, and definitely not what she had ever felt living her life as Artemas Kincaid, a 29-year-old software engineer from Texas.
— Stop it. This... this is fucking insane — she whispered, squeezing her knees together, feeling once again that tension low in her belly, spreading warmth through her whole body, — I don’t want this... — she went on, almost pleading, whispering to herself as if trying to talk down whatever was inside her now, something that lived by its own rules, not asking for permission and not giving a damn about her past engineer’s rational mindset.
Her hand slid unconsciously closer to her stomach, clenched into a fist at the waistband of her jeans, like maybe that could stop the heat, that deep pulsing urge that had nothing in common with her male mind. Her throat was dry again. She ran her tongue over her lips and immediately felt her lower lip get caught in her teeth again — like the body itself knew what gesture would attract attention, how to show itself in just the right light.
‘God. What the hell is this?..’
The sound of a phone snapped her out of it, and she even scolded it internally, not on purpose, just instinctively, for distracting her. It was a text from BodyPort, which she was still sitting not far from.
“Successful user authorization: Veronika Petrovan. Body status: active. All debts have been successfully cleared. Thank you for choosing BodyPort™.”
— What?! — she blurted out too loudly, immediately glancing around, as if startled by her own voice.
Part 2
No, seriously? Successful authorization? Body status — active? What about: oh sorry, technical glitch, we’ll return you to...