Teach you a lesson

Taking a deep drag, Nicole cast a sidelong glance at the man walking by. He smirked and winked, clearly sizing her up for more than just the waitress uniform she wore. Her shoulders tensed, but her face remained hard as stone. She rolled her eyes, exhaling smoke, muttering bitterly under her breath:

— Stupid shit... When is this gonna end?...

— Whoa, you're a real firecracker, — came a rough voice from the side. Nicole turned and saw a man eyeing her from head to toe, his gaze predatory. He looked like the kind who wouldn’t back off until he’d dragged a girl into bed. — What’s got you so down, babe? Trouble with the boss? Or maybe a fight with your boyfriend?

Nicole tried to take another drag, but the cigarette trembled in her fingers. The bra straps chafed her skin, a constant reminder that this body wasn’t her own—this was some ridiculous, horrifying punishment crafted by the real Nicole, who was probably somewhere living it up in his body, spending his money, enjoying the life of a "golden boy." She tried to shift her shoulder to relieve the pressure, only to provoke a grin from the guy in front of her.

— Oh, shy now, huh? — he grinned, completely unfazed. — C’mon, I’m just trying to make your day a little brighter, you know?

— Nicole! You planning to stay out here all day?! Customers are waiting! — her boss’s annoyed voice sounded from the café door. She jerked, dropping her almost burnt-out cigarette on the pavement and quickly crushed it out with her sneaker.

— Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, — she muttered through clenched teeth and hurried back to her section, where several customers were waiting impatiently. She walked briskly to the table, feeling the ridiculous pinch of her thong against her thighs under her uniform, the straps digging into her shoulders, leaving red marks. She straightened her posture, feeling the unfamiliar weight of her tits bounce with each step, a constant reminder that her body was no longer her own. Each morning began with layering on foundation to cover small blemishes, applying mascara, lining her eyes—as if Nicole herself knew exactly how she was supposed to look so her face wouldn’t seem "tired."

A month ago, she never would have imagined ending up in this situation. But now, this was her reality—inside Nicole's body, a waitress at a cheap café, dealing with regulars, cranky bosses, and an eternally empty wallet.

She grabbed a tray of coffee cups and approached a table where two regulars sat, men whose faces she’d come to despise. She set the tray on the table, forcing a polite smile. They immediately launched into their usual “compliments.”

— Thanks, sweetheart. You’re just adorable, as always, — one of them smiled in a way that made her skin crawl. His gaze lingered on her chest, as if he could see through her uniform.

— When are you gonna give me your number? — the other one winked, lazily sipping his coffee. — With a face like that, you shouldn’t be working here. You could do a lot better.

— Enjoy your coffee, — Nicole muttered, barely restraining herself from throwing the cups at them. She turned to leave, only to feel a sharp slap on her backside. The same guy, still holding his mug, looked at her with a smug grin.

— Nice ass, babe, — he sneered, taking a slow sip of coffee. — Why don’t you stop by later? We could have a real good talk…

Nicole quickly headed back to the counter, trying not to look back or reveal her irritation. Her face burned with humiliation, but she knew she couldn’t afford to show weakness. In this place, where everyone saw her as just another cute waitress, any complaints would be laughed off. Worse yet, they might even fire her for "causing trouble with customers." Losing this job would mean losing the last thing tying her to this hated reality. The real Nicole had made it very clear: any missteps, and she could forget about returning to her former life.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she looked up and froze. In the far corner of the café sat her former body. A sleek, obviously expensive suit highlighted broad shoulders and manicured hands, and on her old face was that confident smirk she once wore. The real Nicole, settled comfortably in his body, looked wildly out of place here. Nicole's gaze immediately fixated on the new watch on her wrist—shiny, expensive; she knew exactly what it cost.

Clenching her fists, Nicole crossed the room and stopped in front of the table, glaring at her former self. The real Nicole looked up, and, noticing her, gave a smug grin.

— Here to take my order? But I think this isn’t your section, — said the real Nicole, looking at her as though she were just another waitress. That smug smile drove her mad, and she felt her fingers clench into fists.

— What the hell are you doing?! — Nicole hissed, struggling to keep her voice down so she wouldn’t scream across the room. — You’re spending my money on suits, watches, who knows what else, while I’m here working for pennies, putting up with this humiliation like—

— Like what? Like a regular working stiff? — the real Nicole sneered, leaning in. — What, don’t like it? Isn’t it helpful to get a taste of what it’s like to work in the real world? If you hadn’t been such an asshole, I wouldn’t have switched bodies with you to teach you a lesson.

— Enough, — Nicole said through gritted teeth, staring at her former body. — Turn it back. I get it. I’ve learned the lesson! — Some customers turned to look, but she stomped her foot, ignoring them. — I’m living by your damn rules, even putting up with your trash boyfriend, who just got out of jail and — she faltered, gathering her thoughts, and finished — is screwing me every day like I’m some kind of toy! Enough of this bullshit!

— Hmm... Actually, I’m not sure I even can turn it back, — the real Nicole said finally, looking a little flustered, as if this was a minor inconvenience and not someone else’s ruined life. She fidgeted with the shiny silver watch chain, avoiding Nicole’s gaze, a faint hint of guilt seeping through.

— What? — Nicole felt her world collapse completely. Her throat clenched, and she almost choked on the anger and pain. — You... You’re kidding, right?! You can’t?! You don’t even know how to switch us back?! — Nicole tried to steady her voice, but desperation seeped through every word. She gripped the edge of the table, struggling to hold on to any shred of composure. It felt as if the café and everyone in it had vanished, leaving only this moment with her former body, now belonging to someone else.

The real Nicole looked away, hiding her discomfort behind her usual mask of smugness. She nervously fidgeted with the shiny chain on the watch she’d bought a few days ago with "her" new credit card.

— Well, maybe in time I’ll figure something out... — she said uncertainly, then added with the same cold smirk: — But for now, enjoy the chance to see how people live outside your "golden bubble."

Nicole leaned forward, unable to hold back.

— I thought you just wanted to "teach me a lesson," put me in my place for a couple of days... And now I’m stuck here in your damn body, in debt, with a job where every jerk paws at me, with your idiot boyfriend who treats me like his property! And on top of that, I’m stuck paying off your debts! — Nicole hissed, not wanting to attract any more attention but barely controlling her voice. — I’m sick of it! This boobs, this uniform, this damn place—

— Nicole! — the café owner’s voice cut through her angry whisper. He stood behind the counter, arms crossed, glaring at her. — What, you decided to chat with customers instead of working? This isn’t a free-for-all!

Nicole stood there for a moment, locked onto her former body’s cold stare. But her old self just looked back with ice-cold indifference. It was too much. Her lips trembled, and, to avoid screaming, she bit her tongue.

Just then, another waitress, Lena, came over, already noticing that Nicole was lingering at this table.

— Excuse me, — Lena whispered politely to "the customer." — May I take your order? — She glanced discreetly at Nicole, as if hinting: shouldn't you get back to your tables?

Grinding her teeth, Nicole spun on her heel and walked to the counter. A lump formed in her throat, and she felt a tightening sensation deep in her stomach. Damn it, if someone had told her a month ago she’d end up in a waitress’s body, she’d have laughed at the absurdity.

Standing by the counter, Nicole tried to calm herself, taking slow, deep breaths. Soon the boss approached her, frowning as he looked down at her.

— If I catch you chatting idly one more time, you’re out. Got it?

Nicole was still reeling from his threat when rough, strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders from behind. She shivered, knowing who it was even before she felt his breath on her neck. Her boyfriend—the one who now assumed he had the right to touch her however and whenever he wanted. He leaned in and, ignoring her stiffened shoulders, kissed her cheek, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around her breasts.

— Hey, babe, — he said, ignoring her forced smile, — how’s about a little coffee for me, huh?

The boss rolled his eyes and stepped back, crossing his arms. Everyone—the staff, the customers, even her former body—all seemed to be staring at them.

— Young man, — the boss said, trying to sound firm but clearly caught off guard by the scene in the middle of the café. — This isn’t the place for… that kind of display. And you, Nicole, — he looked at her with barely concealed disdain, — you know the rules about discipline on the job, right?

Her boyfriend, still holding her waist, turned to the boss with a smirk. A hint of threat crept into his voice as he grinned.

— Relax, boss, will ya? What’s it to you anyway, huh? — He held her tighter, and she barely managed not to pull away. — My girl’s busting her ass in this dump already, and it looks like you’re just waiting for a reason to fire her, aren’t you?

Nicole felt her cheeks flush. Not long ago, she’d have stood up to the guy herself—but standing here in someone else’s body and seeing her boss’s glare, she realized: this was heading nowhere good.

— This is your final warning, Nicole, — the boss said through clenched teeth. — If you can’t control your… friends, then you’re fired.

She tried to protest, but all words, all thoughts had left her head, replaced by only fear and despair. Her boyfriend looked almost pleased by the outcome. Grinning widely, he wrapped his arm around her and led her out without looking back.

— Forget that dump, babe, — he said as they stepped outside. — We’ve got plans! I’ve got a lead on some real cash flow, you know? We’ll head to Mexico, where I can make some serious bank, and you… — he paused, studying her face, — you’ll be right by my side. You’re not gonna leave me, are you?

Her mind was a blank. She was still processing that the real Nicole didn’t know how to switch them back—and now she’d just lost her job. She barely heard him rambling about Mexico and some “golden opportunity.” Her world shrank to a feeling of unbearable emptiness and helplessness. Nicole walked beside him, feeling his arm grip her shoulders, almost forcing her close, and her disgust mingled with despair.

Just before they exited, Nicole glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with her former body. The real Nicole looked back with an ambiguous expression—something between smug pity and a flicker of sorrow.

— Don’t look back, honey, — her boyfriend growled, tightening his grip on her shoulder. — There’s nothing there for you anymore.

Nicole stumbled out onto the sidewalk, his arm wrapped possessively around her. Her heart tightened with uncertainty. She felt like she’d lost both herself and her past. The world around her bustled and laughed, but to her, it felt like her muted scream was still trapped inside.