Chicken or Fish 2 (preview)

Oh, wow! I didn’t expect this kind of reaction to the story (judging by the likes and comments). And it seems like I guessed right this time, because I’ve already started writing the sequel. But I kind of want to mark this post and your response, so I’ve decided to share the first chapter of part two that I’ve written so far—let’s call it a little teaser and a way to show my appreciation to all of you!
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Part 12

Having made it to the airport building, I felt like my legs were about to give out. I wanted to take off those damn heels and throw them in some corner. I wanted to sit down and never get up again, but I couldn’t. I had to keep going find that old woman.

She said the nightmare would end as soon as I stepped off the ramp, but I was still stuck as Justine — a clumsy flight attendant in a tight uniform, with tits weighing down my shoulders, a piercing in my nose, and a tattoo under my boob.

I asked for the passenger lists at the check-in counter, but the girl in the blue uniform just raised her eyebrows and looked at me with the same “you’re a moron, but I can’t say it out loud” expression I had used countless times to look at my own secretaries.

— Are you looking for someone, Mademoiselle Meunier? — she said with a hint of irony.

Mademoiselle Meunier. Fuck me. I didn’t know where to start explaining. That I wasn’t Meunier. That I wasn’t even damn Mademoiselle. And that, yes, I was looking for someone. But not “some” one — someone who had the ability to turn people into completely different people. I wanted to grab the girl by the shoulders, shake her, and scream: “Call an ambulance, the police, the president — whoever you need to call! Because I can’t take this anymore, do you understand? I’m Jason fucking Miller!”

— Yes, — I said instead, quietly, almost whispering. — A passenger. She’s in her seventies. Thin, with short white hair, gray glasses. Walks with a cane. She was in seat 22B.

The girl nodded, then turned to another woman in uniform and whispered something to her. The second woman looked at me with a frown, then said:

— Sorry, but we can’t reveal personal information. — She looked down at my chest and added with a slight sarcasm. — Trainee cabin crew, hm? You should know that already.

I stood there like a stone, staring at her and yea, somehow I knew that already, but… What was I supposed to say? That it wasn’t a passenger, it was the woman who’d turned me into a fucking flight attendant?!

— It’s… it’s important. I must find her.

The two girls in the blue uniforms exchanged glances. One of them nodded, as if saying: “Go ahead, try to convince us.” And I…

I took a deep breath and felt the bra straps tighten on my back. Damn, that hurt. I already wanted to tear off this fucking thing, to get rid of everything that was now… my own body. I opened my mouth, but I had nothing to say. No one would believe me. And even if they did — what could they do?

— Forget it. I guess I can handle it myself. Thank you, — I said quietly, feeling my heart sink. Then I turned on my heel and heard one of the girls say, almost inaudibly:

— God, these trainees…

And I felt like a complete idiot.