Total Recall

The noisy hall of “DreamScape Virtual” was full of people, excited by the prospect of escaping their boring daily lives into worlds created from their dreams. Mike, a 32-year-old from New Jersey, flipped through a brochure, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

On the large screen, the number “143” appeared in bright LED symbols, and a mechanical female voice immediately echoed the number.

— Client number 143, please proceed to your designated room.

Mike stood up from the soft leather chair in the waiting area and headed toward the door marked “143.” The excitement in his chest mixed with a slight anxiety. He surveyed the spacious “DreamScape Virtual” company room again to reassure himself he was in the right place. It looked like something from the sci-fi movies of his childhood — smooth white walls, glass panels with scrolling text, and friendly staff in uniforms.

— Here we go..., — Mike muttered to himself as he entered the designated room.

Inside, he was greeted by a smiling woman in a white lab coat with a name tag that read "Samantha."

— Good afternoon, Mr. Wilson. Everything is ready for your virtual vacation. Have you made your choice?

Mike nodded, slightly embarrassed, and handed over the form.

— Of course... This one, number 24.

Samantha quickly glanced over the form, her smile growing.

— Beach vacation with a focus on physical fitness and... — she looked up, — social surroundings. Great choice! It's one of our most popular programs.

Mike blushed but tried to appear confident:

— Well, you know, why not... try it? — He smiled slightly, glancing away while scratching the back of his neck, then added — And could you also make it so I’m, like... a Greek god? You know, with abs, a tan, and... charisma... turned all the way up. And so that all the girls... look at me and only me, — he finished with a grin, trying to hide his nervousness.

Samantha laughed, but not mockingly — her smile was warm and understanding.

— Of course, Mr. Wilson. These are exactly the kinds of requests we get. Don’t worry, everything will be set up perfectly. How long are you planning to stay?

— How long do you usually... let clients stay? — Mike asked, slightly flustered.

— Oh, Mr. Wilson, I think I understand what you're asking. Usually, the vacation lasts from one to two months, depending on the client's preferences. However, since our technology allows you to live an entire lifetime in a very short time, technically, time isn’t limited.

— So I can stay there forever?

— We don’t recommend that, but it’s always up to the client — Samantha’s smile faded, replaced by a serious frown on her face. — But in that case, we do not take responsibility for the client’s psychological state after awakening. However, this is all specified in the contract.

Mike smirked, trying to act like he hadn’t thought about that, and added,

— I was just asking, please, just give me the standard package... maybe, like, two months, alright?

Samantha smiled, seeing how flustered Mike was, and moved a little closer, whispering softly,

— I’ll make an exception for you. Once you want to return, just say the code word, and for now, please, take a seat.

She pointed to the chair in the center of the room and whispered the code word in his ear. But Mike had already shifted his attention to the chair. It looked surprisingly futuristic — smooth metal, shimmering light panels on the sides, and cables hanging from the ceiling. Mike froze for a moment as a memory flashed in his mind. The chair reminded him of that machine from “Total Recall”.

He let out a short, impressed snort, eagerly anticipating his vacation:

— Damn, this is just like the movie! Don’t tell me I’m going to remember I’m actually a spy!

Samantha smiled, clearly having heard this kind of comment before:

— I assure you, no spies here. Just the vacation of your dreams. Please sit down, we’ll begin in a couple of minutes.

Mike sat down in the chair, feeling how the soft upholstery perfectly molded to his body. The cables above him stirred, and a transparent dome slowly began to lower. At the last moment, he remembered the scene from “Total Recall” where Schwarzenegger meets the three-breasted prostitute.

“Damn, three breasts — that’s really weird… or maybe it’s cool?” — he thought, and chuckled at the strange thought that crossed his mind, when suddenly everything vanished, and his thought was cut off, as if someone had turned off the lights. In the next second, he found himself face-to-face with a huge Schwarzenegger in a leather jacket, who looked at him with surprise and a little confusion.

— Well, well, handsome, — Mike suddenly heard his voice coming from his own mouth, but it wasn’t his voice. It was Marie’s voice, the prostitute from Total Recall — soft, seductive, with a slight rasp. — Do you like what you see?

A wide smile painfully tightened his cheekbones, and his arms were spread out to the sides, as if he... His eyes, now large and expressive like Marie's, widened when he realized he was in her body. The smile that had just been pulling at his cheekbones vanished, as if it had never been there. He felt his lips—no, her lips—trembling, and the hands that had just been holding the edges of the cloak dropped down suddenly, so that he felt something unfamiliar sway in his chest.

— What... what's happening? — he whispered, but the voice that came from his mouth was soft, seductive, with a slight hoarseness. It was Marie’s voice, but now the words were his.

He looked down, and a wave of shock overtook him. Three breasts. Three. They were full, firm, with dark nipples that slightly stood out against the pale skin. He felt their weight, strange and unfamiliar, as if three heavy spheres were lying on his chest. His hands, now slender and delicate with long nails painted in lacquer, trembled as he tried to cover himself.

— No, no, no, — he muttered, feeling the earrings in his ears sway, hitting his cheeks. He raised his hands to his head, feeling the long hair that was now his. It was soft, silky, and he felt it slide between his fingers.

Quaid, who had just been standing in front of him, stared at him in confusion.

— Hey, Marie, you alright? — he asked, his voice rough but with a note of concern.

Mike looked at him, feeling his heart—no, her heart—pounding wildly in his chest.

— I... I’m not Marie, — he blurted out, but his voice sounded as if he was joking.

Quaid snorted, clearly not taking his words seriously.

— Alright, jokester, I’ll go ask someone else.

He turned and walked off, leaving Mike alone. Mike looked around, feeling his legs, now long and slender, encased in stockings, trembling beneath him. He felt the skirt, tightly hugging his hips, rise slightly with each step. He tried to take a deep breath, but his chest—three breasts—rose and fell, giving him a strange sensation of weight. Around him was the same bar.

— Help, — he whispered, hoping that "DreamScape Virtual" support would hear him, but his voice sounded like the whisper of a seductive woman.

No one reacted. Around him, there were only the loud sounds of the Martian bar, mixed with the voices of people chatting about something, ignoring him.

Suddenly, he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder. He turned sharply, seeing a man who looked like a typical Martian resident—rough, with an unshaven face and wearing shabby clothes.

— Hey, babe, — he said, his voice hoarse, his breath smelling of alcohol. — You look like you need some help.

Mike felt his body tense. He tried to pull away, but the man held him tightly by the shoulder.

— No, thanks, I... I’m fine, — he said, but his voice sounded unsure.

The man smirked, his eyes sliding down to his chest.

— Oh, Marie, what’s with the shy act? Though, I kinda like it, — he pulled Mike into an embrace with one arm, and with the other, reached for one of his breasts.

Mike felt a wave of disgust take over his body. He pushed the man away sharply, feeling his hands—her hands—tremble.

— Get off me! — he yelled, but his voice sounded like the scream of a frightened woman.

The man laughed but stepped back, raising his hands in a peace gesture.

— Alright, alright, calm down. If you change your mind, I’m right here.

He waved some bills in front of Mike’s face and walked off, leaving him alone at the bar counter.

Mike felt his legs giving out. He sank down onto the nearest bar stool, feeling his body—her body—shake. His breasts pressed against each other awkwardly and brushed against the counter, causing a huge wave of shame. He looked at his hands, at the long nails, at his slender wrists. He felt his hair fall into his face and pushed it away, feeling it slide between his fingers.

— What the hell... — he whispered, feeling his voice sound as if he was crying.

He closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. He was Mike. Mike Wilson. He was in New Jersey, at “DreamScape Virtual.” He had chosen a beach vacation, not... this.

But when he opened his eyes, he was still here. In Marie’s body. On Mars.

He felt his body starting to adjust to the new sensations. The weight of the breasts, the lightness of the skirt, the stockings hugging his legs. He felt his skin reacting to the cool air, his hair swaying in the gentle breeze.

After trying a few more times to contact support, it dawned on him that it wasn’t working, and to the locals, his loud calls for help probably sounded like some strange behavior.

"This is all a simulation. A simulation... I said I only needed a two-month vacation, and in two months, everything will be over. I just need to get through these months and... and not die, I guess, I don’t think you can die here."

He tried to convince himself that everything was fine, and it worked. However, inside him, there was still anxiety. Anxiety that told him this wasn’t just a simulation. This was something more.