In elevator

“This is the worst disguise anyone could have thought of,” Philip thought to himself, pressing against the cold wall of the elevator and trying to look like everything was fine. His heart was pounding furiously, and he didn’t even bother hiding the tremor in his hands. Opposite him stood a police officer, who seemed to be doing everything he could not to stare at the conspicuous shapes under the black fabric. But Philip could still see the officer’s eyes involuntarily darting toward his chest, where the large, round contours were too obvious beneath the burqa.

“Damn, why has this fake crap suddenly become so heavy, and why can I feel the fabric around it?!” Panic surged in Philip’s chest as he tried not to betray himself with any movement or glance. Just a moment ago, he was sure it was just a piece of silicone he’d put on, but now... The sensations were too strange, too... real. The fabric tightly clung to the soft, large shapes that... reacted to the slightest touch. He pressed his hands to himself and felt the contact of these hands.

Those “fake” shapes... No, they couldn’t be real. Or could they? But how? Something had definitely gone off track. The police officer suddenly coughed, making Philip flinch and instinctively hug his chest even tighter.

- Oh… - he gasped accidentally, not expecting to hear such a high-pitched sound come out of his mouth. “Damn, why... does this feel real?!” he mentally cried out. Where did this strange... sensitivity come from? It was supposed to be just ordinary... silicone, right?

- Ma’am, is everything alright? - the officer muttered, his voice tense and even... wary.

Philip nodded frantically, feeling something in his chest throb painfully from the sudden movement. “Ma’am.” It was ridiculous. He never thought anyone would ever address him like that.

- Yes, - he blurted out in a voice that was far too high and immediately cleared his throat. “What the hell is going on?” flashed through his mind as he feverishly tried to make sense of what was happening. The elevator doors finally opened, and Philip, not wasting a second, almost dashed out, nearly stumbling as he realized he was now wearing high-heeled shoes. He could feel how the “fake pads” bounced heavily with every step he took. Each bounce of these “fake pads” sent new waves of strange sensations.

Reaching the nearest women’s restroom, he practically burst in, struggling to keep his balance on the damned heels. Slamming the door shut behind him, Philip leaned against the cold tiles, breathing heavily. He needed a few moments to calm down and at least try to gather his thoughts.

“Alright... calm down. Just check what’s wrong, and everything will fall back into place...” he told himself, afraid to see what he didn’t even dare think about. Philip nervously reached for the fabric covering his face and cautiously pulled part of the cloak away, allowing himself to look at what was hidden underneath. In the mirror’s reflection, he saw a woman’s face instead of his own. Huge, frightened eyes with long, thick lashes and a neat nose framed by delicate features that bore no resemblance to his usual rougher lines. Philip, as if paralyzed, couldn’t tear his gaze away from his reflection.

- What the… - he whispered, not recognizing his own voice. Even his breathing sounded different, softer, and higher.

Swallowing hard, he slowly pulled the cloak down further, revealing part of his neck and shoulders. What he saw made him freeze. The skin — smooth, soft, and dusky. The shoulders — narrow and fragile. And the chest... The chest was enormous, full, and round, hanging freely without a bra and pulling him down with its weight. They didn’t just look real — they were real.

The door suddenly burst open, and Philip froze in panic, his gaze locking with that of a middle-aged woman standing in the doorway, her eyes wide open. Her face instantly turned pale, and her mouth opened slightly in shock.

- Oh my God! What is this?! - she blurted out, her hand flying up to her lips. The woman quickly averted her gaze, her cheeks flushing bright red, and she waved her hand in frustration, trying not to look at Philip’s half-exposed chest.

- Ne dedin? Ne oluyor burada?! (What did you say? What’s happening here?!) - Philip suddenly yelled out in Turkish, not realizing he had switched languages.

- Cover yourself, for God’s sake, what a disgrace! - she shouted, barely glancing in his direction, her face contorted with indignation.

- Ne? Ne diyorsun?! (What? What are you talking about?!) - he shouted back, still in Turkish, and looked at himself in the mirror in a panic before hurriedly pulling the fabric back up to cover his chest.

- I’m calling security! - she said threateningly, throwing one last look at Philip, her eyes filled with outrage.

- Dur! Bekle, ne oluyor?! (Stop! Wait, what’s going on?!) - Philip moved to go after her, but stumbled over his own heels and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. He cursed again in Turkish, not understanding why these words were coming out of his mouth so naturally.

The woman just ran out of the restroom even faster, leaving Philip lying on the cold tiles, breathing heavily and trying to piece together even a single coherent thought.