Leila

— Are you seriously trying to tell me that all this bullshit is worth a billion?! — Trevor Hale rolled his eyes and leaned back in irritation into the leather chair in the spacious laboratory.

He was used to the world revolving around him. Used to the fact that any problem could be solved with his father’s money. He was 26, and he had everything: expensive cars, a penthouse in Manhattan, designer clothes. The only thing he didn’t have was patience.

In front of him stood a man who looked like he was about to give a lecture at Harvard — Dr. Howard Merrick. A legend among eccentric scientists. His gray hair was disheveled, and his round glasses kept slipping down to the tip of his nose. He nervously fidgeted with the edge of his blazer, but his gaze made it clear—he didn’t give a damn what this rich brat thought.

— Money is nothing, young man, — the professor sighed tiredly. — True wealth is knowledge.

— I just don’t see any wealth here. So far, it’s just a big hunk of metal with wires.

Trevor lazily waved his hand toward the bulky construction in the center of the laboratory.

— This is not just a "hunk of metal," — Merrick said with emphasis. — This is a quantum reality simulator, a mechanism capable of altering the perception of consciousness, placing a person into an environment created based on historical data and cultural codes.

Trevor grimaced, barely holding back a sarcastic chuckle.

— In other words, another weird attraction, but for a billion? Bravo, professor. I hope it comes with a VR headset.

Dr. Merrick just shook his head and pointed at a panel with dozens of flickering indicators.

— This is not a game, young man. This is full immersion. Your mind, your very identity, will find itself inside a new life, a new body, but you will be fully aware. Imagine—someone from the twenty-first century in the body of an Egyptian pharaoh or, say, a Roman gladiator...

— My old man should’ve just invested in a new yacht club instead of this crap, — Trevor muttered irritably, already losing interest in the boring professor and his overpriced toy.

Dr. Merrick merely shrugged and pressed a few buttons on the panel.

— Would you like to experience it for yourself? — The professor's voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable challenge in it.

Trevor scoffed.

— What, right now? And how’s it supposed to work?

The professor reached for the control panel, his long fingers moving swiftly over the keys. The machine came to life—rows of indicators lit up, and a low hum echoed from deep within the structure.

— You simply step inside, — he explained. — And I activate the program.

Trevor eyed the bulky device with skepticism. It all seemed like some meaningless crap, but deep inside, curiosity stirred.

— Alright, professor, let’s get this over with. I’ve got a meeting with my friends at the penthouse.

He stepped inside.

The metal floor of the structure was cold under his polished loafers, and for a moment, Trevor had a strange feeling—maybe he should’ve thought this through a bit more. But, of course, he immediately dismissed the thought—cowardice was for the poor, and he, Trevor Hale, never hesitated about anything.

Professor Merrick was adjusting something on the control panel, and suddenly, the machine roared to life: a low hum filled the air, indicators flashed, and the air took on a faint scent of ozone. Trevor opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but then—right before his eyes—a virtual menu appeared, like something out of a video game. Translucent screens hovered in the air, glowing softly.

— Oh, sure, — Trevor drawled, narrowing his eyes skeptically. — What’s next? Do I pick a class like in an RPG?

The professor’s voice echoed from somewhere far away.

— Any life, Mr. Hale. Any experience, any reality. What do you desire?

Trevor smirked.

— Well then, professor, if I can be anyone…

A vivid image flashed in his mind: himself, in a luxurious palace, dressed in silk robes, surrounded by beautiful exotic women dancing for him, ready to fulfill his every desire. He could almost feel the warmth of the candlelight, hear the soft melodies of flutes and drums.

He saw it clearly—himself, magnificent, like a true sultan, in grand chambers filled with rich carpets and silk. Around him—dancers, flexible, graceful, obedient, there to entertain him and grant his every wish. The gentle sound of the flute, the scent of rosewater and incense…

— Alright, let’s say… — he began, grinning. — I… Argh! What the—?!

It all happened in an instant. A bright flash—so blinding that fiery rings danced before his eyes. A ringing in his ears, and then—absolute silence. A sharp, burning sensation shot through his neck, as if someone had stabbed a red-hot needle into it. Trevor cried out, but his own voice was drowned out by a strange, hoarse scream.

— Mr. Hale, — Professor Merrick watched as a blue flash completely engulfed Trevor’s figure. The screen flickered with warning symbols, and the speakers emitted an incomprehensible sound—like someone trying to say something, but their voice was muffled by static. The professor frantically pressed the emergency cancel button, but the device’s doors wouldn’t open.

For a split second, everything froze. Then, the doors slowly slid apart, releasing a thick cloud of white steam. Professor Merrick absentmindedly adjusted his glasses, squinting at the silhouette inside the capsule.

Trevor was still there, but instead of his familiar face, someone else was looking back at him. Or rather—someone familiar, because the professor was certain that this was exactly how Trevor had always looked.

The same male body, the same expensive suit, blazer, white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar. But the face… Sharp, delicate, with high cheekbones and a refined nose. Perfectly shaped lips that gave a hint of arrogance. And long, blonde hair, cascading in soft waves over the shoulders.

The professor paused for a moment, then simply nodded to himself—yes, everything was fine. That’s how he had always looked. Right?

— Seems like he passed out… Oh well, when he wakes up, I’ll just tell him he forgot how amazing it all was.

…

Slowly opening his eyes, Trevor felt a strange tingling sensation all over his body. The world around him was blurry, as if seen through water. His head was spinning, and his muscles felt like they were filled with lead.

— What… — His voice caught in his throat. His ears were still ringing from the explosion of sound, and he couldn’t even hear himself speak.

Trevor tried to express his frustration, but instead, he just groaned at the strange sensation—something on his chest… bounced?

He blinked. His eyelids were heavy, then slowly parted again. The blurry world around him started to take shape.

‘What the hell?’

Lavish patterns on the walls, soft cushions, low tables covered in fruit, lamps with colored glass casting dancing reflections on carved pillars. The air was thick with the scent of rosewater and incense, and somewhere nearby, music played—delicate strings, muted drumbeats…

Trevor sat up and immediately realized that something was VERY wrong.

First—the chest. No, not just a chest—two firm, heavy, round mounds, pressed together by something soft but unnaturally tight. The moment he moved, they bounced slightly, reminding him that, holy shit, they were ATTACHED to him.

Second—the waist. Slim, delicate—much smaller than it should be.

Third—

— WHAT THE—?!

The voice. That voice wasn’t his. High, clear, with a soft, exotic accent.

Trevor jerked his hands up to his throat… and froze, staring at them. Too slender, too delicate, with long, graceful fingers. Heavy gold bangles gleamed on his wrists, jingling unpleasantly as they slid against his skin.

— IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?!

He twisted, horrified, staring down at himself. Dark, sheer fabrics with golden embroidery covered his chest, but even through them, there was no mistaking how much was there. Thin chains with precious stones slid over his skin, teasing it with every tiny movement. On his hips—an airy sash, nearly weightless, barely covering his legs…

This wasn’t just clothing. This was a dancer’s outfit.

Something heavy pressed against his forehead. Something was wrapped around his head, tightening against his scalp.

Trevor turned his head sharply—and immediately felt a light but distinct tug at his neck. He blinked, trying to understand what it was… and then he realized. Earrings. Huge, heavy rings, swinging with every movement. He shook his head again, and his ears tugged painfully under the weight.

— WHAT THE FUCK, PROFESSOR?!

Trevor grabbed his breasts. He could feel their weight, their firmness, their damn bounce with every movement. They were real. Not some digital illusion, not a special effect. Both his hands squeezed them—and the harder he tried to convince himself this was just a dream, the more clearly he felt them under his fingers.

— What the fuck is this shit?! — His own voice, but higher, sharper, cracked into a shriek.

He suddenly felt someone grab his wrist. Judging by the size of the hand, it was a woman.

— Leila, what are you doing… — A voice whispered right into his ear, warm breath brushing against his cheek.

Trevor jerked back, but the woman’s grip on his wrist didn’t let him go. He turned… and found himself staring into the deep brown eyes of a dark-skinned girl. She wore a simple but elegant dancer’s outfit, golden bracelets softly jingling with her every movement. She was watching him with a worried expression, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

— Are you sick? — She frowned. — Or are you just messing around again before the performance? Shahin doesn’t like it when you act weird.

— What the fuck?! — Trevor blurted out, but the voice that came out was too high, too melodic.

The dark-skinned girl holding his wrist gasped sharply and pulled back, staring at his face in disbelief. She clearly hadn’t expected such crude, unfamiliar words from her friend’s mouth.

Trevor, however, couldn’t tear his gaze away from his own hands. They were too slender, too feminine. The bracelets slid down his wrists with a soft jingle. The tits under the sheer, transparent top bounced again at his sudden movement, as if mocking him. This wasn’t a dream. This was fucking real.

— Leila… are you… are you okay? — The girl cautiously took a step closer, her brown eyes widening with concern.

— I’m not fucking Leila! Hey, professor! What the hell?! Get me the fuck out of here!