Bradley's Story - Chapter 4 - The Walk

Finally exhaling, Bradley looked into the mirror again with a mix of rage and despair. Sarah’s shirt hung from his narrow shoulders as if it were a robe, and the pants barely clung to his waist, slipping with every movement. He struggled to tighten the belt, fastening it at the last hole, but it didn’t help—the clothes still looked ridiculous.

'Well, I’m not going out naked,' he thought irritably. 'But this...' He glanced down at his new figure and shook his head in disgust. Everything felt wrong. 'I just need to go outside, see what’s going on, and somehow fix all of this,' he resolved firmly.

Abandoning his attempts to look normal, Bradley headed for the door, grabbing a pair of black shoes on autopilot. But as soon as his small foot with a bright pedicure slid into the shoes, he immediately felt they were far too big. His foot practically drowned in them, sparking a fresh wave of irritation. The shoes were several sizes too large and felt bulky and uncomfortable. Bradley cursed under his breath, noticing several pairs of high heels standing nearby. He guessed they would fit perfectly, but the thought of wearing them filled him with revulsion. He decided it was better to go out in oversized shoes than to fully accept this absurdity.

— No way, — he muttered to himself, shoving the heels aside.

He forced his feet into the large shoes, which still flopped on his small feet. Each step was accompanied by a loud slapping sound, and he struggled to maintain balance. Determined, he stepped outside, driven by a desire to figure out what was happening in this upside-down world.

Once outside, Bradley immediately noticed how everything around him had changed. People moved past him, but something was undeniably off. Men in bright, tight outfits with purses slung over their shoulders strolled down the street, glancing at shop window reflections to adjust their hair or makeup. The women, on the other hand, walked confidently in sharp suits, their movements strong and purposeful. It seemed as if the men here were bound by women’s rules, their behavior more in line with what Bradley expected from women in his world.

He walked down the street, feeling like he was in a dream. The shops, the ads, the signs—all seemed to confirm this new order of things. Billboards displayed images of well-groomed men promoting beauty salons, massages, and spas for men. Ads flashed everywhere: “The Best Haircut for Men,” “Beauty Secrets for Real Men.”

— What the hell is going on? — he muttered, feeling his anger boiling inside.

Male passersby glanced at him with curiosity, but not in the way he was used to. There were no admiring glances, no signs of respect. Instead, their looks carried faint disdain or pity, as if Bradley were an object of mockery.

One of the women walking by in a sharp suit lingered her gaze on him longer than usual. She smirked and shook her head, as if his oversized pants and dangling shirt were some sort of ridiculous spectacle to her.

— What are you staring at? — Bradley shouted, unable to contain his growing fury.

The woman stopped and, frowning, turned toward him. Her face showed a mix of contempt and amusement. She slowly looked him up and down, her gaze sharp and displeased.

— Are you talking to me? — she said with obvious disdain. — You’ve lost your mind, boy?

Standing there in the ill-fitting clothes that were clearly uncomfortable, Bradley felt his anger rising. His long, painted nails trembled with tension, and inside, he boiled with humiliation. No one had ever spoken to him like that, especially not women. They had always looked up to him, respecting and fearing him, but now it was the other way around.

— Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?! — he shouted, but deep down, he knew he shouldn’t have. The woman stepped closer, and Bradley had to look up to meet her gaze as she loomed over him. She seemed like a giant, although she was just like everyone else around here. Her broad shoulders, muscular arms, and confident movements made him feel vulnerable. This was a completely new sensation for Bradley, and he had no idea how to handle it.

— Say that again, you bitch boy, — she said it so easily, yet with complete confidence. The woman leaned in even closer, looking at Bradley as if he were some ridiculous mistake, a pathetic creature that had dared to step out of its comfort zone and was now getting what it deserved.

Bradley felt his heart pounding faster. In his world, he had been the one who said such things, the one who put others in their place. But why was he now so... afraid? Bradley tensed as a cold shiver ran down his spine. Instinctively, he took a step back, but the woman immediately noticed and smirked, stepping half a pace closer.

— I-I told you — he paused, taking a deep breath before finishing — who do you think you are to talk to me like that?! — his voice was loud, but it trembled, betraying the growing fear inside.

The woman leaned in closer, their faces just inches apart. She eyed him up and down. Her gaze lingered on his long nails and carefully styled blonde curls. Bradley noticed the corners of her lips twitch with contempt.

— You pathetic little bitch, — she spoke with dangerous slowness, savoring each word, — say that again, and I’ll make you regret it. Got it? — she finished, raising her hand as if preparing to strike. Bradley flinched in surprise, bracing himself for the hit. Just a moment ago, he wouldn’t have even considered that anyone, especially a woman, would dare talk to him this way. But now, he was paralyzed with fear. His body froze, his breathing became shallow. As her hand slowly rose, Bradley instinctively covered his face, expecting the blow.

But the hit never came. Instead, there was loud laughter. The woman threw her head back and laughed, the sound echoing down the street.

— Pathetic, — she sneered, lowering the hand he had taken as a threat. — Next time, think before you open that little mouth of yours. Otherwise, I’ll shut it for you so tight you won’t say another word. — She paused dramatically before sharply adding, — Got it?! — Her voice was commanding, and her gaze was so heavy that Bradley felt cornered. His heart pounded wildly, and his legs trembled with tension. For a moment, he thought he might try to snap back, but fear gripped him. For the first time in his life, he realized he was truly afraid of a woman.

— I... got it, — he barely whispered, feeling his pride shatter right in front of her. His face flushed with humiliation as he turned away, trying to avoid her disdainful stare.

— Good boy, — the woman smirked, her hand gently lifting his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes once more. — Next time, be smarter. Men shouldn’t throw tantrums like that. Better stay home and mind your business.

She let go of him abruptly, as if the touch was nothing more than a gesture of pity for some helpless creature. Without looking back, she walked off down the street, leaving Bradley behind as though his existence no longer mattered.

Bradley stood there in complete silence, feeling his legs buckle beneath him. He glanced around—no one was looking at him with sympathy, no one had come to help. Men walked past, avoiding his gaze, while women moved with such confidence that he had no doubt: this world belonged to them. They ruled here, they were in charge, and he... he was just a toy.

'What the hell,' Bradley thought, but before he could fully form the thought, his legs carried him away from the woman whose gaze and laughter still echoed in his ears. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst out of his chest. Fear and humiliation slowly morphed into a mix of anger and despair. This world was upside down. Everything he once believed unshakeable—his confidence, his power, his dominance over women—now felt like some cruel joke.

'I just need to find someone... someone who can explain what’s going on. This is a dream, it has to be, or some prank.' Bradley tried to convince himself, but as soon as he spotted another couple—a woman with broad shoulders in a sharp suit, and a man in a thin dress, teetering on high heels—his certainty started to crumble. The woman treated the man with complete disdain, throwing careless orders at him as though he were just an accessory.

'This isn’t right,' he thought again. Everything about this world was wrong.

He looked down at his hands—his long nails glistened in the sunlight, as if mocking him. Bradley clenched his fists in frustration, feeling the pressure of the pink polish against his fingers. He thought of Sarah—how quickly she had changed, becoming something like... a dominant force. What if this whole world had always been this way? Maybe... maybe this world really was like this? Or... had he just dreamed of being someone else?

— No! Damn it, no... I’ve got to get out of here, — he muttered almost under his breath, noticing the angry stares from women passing by as he dared to shout. It was unbearable to realize that his power was gone, that in this strange world he was in the very position he had always considered "feminine." This was a nightmarish, inverted reality, where all his beliefs about how things "should be" were shattered by the cold wall of this new truth.

— Hey, you! — A voice called out from behind him. Bradley turned sharply and saw a woman in a police uniform walking briskly toward him. Her steps were quick and confident, and her expression stern and alert. She looked threatening: tall, broad-shouldered, her uniform accentuating her muscular build—clearly trained and strong. Bradley felt his heart race, and his feet felt glued to the ground.

— What are you doing out here dressed like that, pretty boy? Got any ID? — Bradley froze, his breath catching in his throat, his legs feeling rooted to the pavement. The policewoman approached him with an air of authority, her tall frame and muscular build highlighting her formidable strength. She looked at him with a touch of disdain, as if seeing a man like him in such a state was both irritating and routine for her.

— I asked, got any ID? — she repeated, her eyes narrowing with displeasure. The mix of fear and humiliation clouded Bradley’s mind, making it hard to think of a response. His heart was pounding so fast it felt like it would leap out of his chest.

— Y-yeah, I... — he began, his voice trembling with tension. He instinctively reached for the pocket of his pants, which hung loosely on him like a sack. But, of course, he didn’t have any documents with him. 'Of course, I don’t... What the hell is even going on?' raced through his mind.

— Are you kidding me? — the woman rolled her eyes in irritation. She was clearly displeased, her voice rising. — You look like a normal guy, but what’s with the clothes? Steal them from your girlfriend? — she continued, her gaze filled with contempt. She stepped closer, and Bradley felt his legs weakening with fear.

— What? No, it’s... it’s my stuff, — Bradley muttered, trying to sound confident, but his voice trembled, betraying his insecurity. He noticed the policewoman scanning him from head to toe, her eyes lingering on his oversized shoes and baggy pants. Her smirk became more pronounced.

— Yours? — she scoffed, looking at him with such disdain that Bradley felt utterly pathetic. — Boy, stop talking nonsense.

— I’m not a boy! — Bradley snapped with unexpected sharpness, but his voice wavered with fear and confusion. He had never felt so humiliated, and the look on the policewoman’s face reflected only irritation at his words.

— Oh yeah? Then what are you? — she laughed, leaning in closer so that her shadow almost swallowed his small, delicate figure.

Bradley, trembling with humiliation and rage, clenched his teeth. He tried to muster whatever dignity he had left, but the fear of this powerful woman made his body betray him, shaking uncontrollably. Thoughts whirled in his head: 'This is a dream, it’s just a dream. Wake up! What the hell happened to you?'

— I... I’m a man, — he finally managed to say. But as soon as the words left his mouth, they sounded absurd and pitiful.

The policewoman laughed even louder, her laugh low and rough, drowning out the noise of the street.

— Boy, man, what’s the difference? You’re all the same—pathetic, hysterical, and always whining. At least you’re not a whore... or are you? — Her smile faded as she took another long look at Bradley, while he struggled to comprehend what she was getting at.

— So, — she continued, her voice now low and commanding. — What’s it gonna be, boy? Are you a whore or not?

Her question was so calm, it was as if she were talking about the weather.

— I’m not... — He swallowed hard, feeling his voice betray him again with a shaky tone. He was ready to explode with anger, but he knew that if he gave in to his emotions, things would only get worse. — I’m not a whore! And I’m married, I’m not—

The policewoman laughed, her laughter echoing down the quiet street, making him shrink even more. She leaned in closer, the smell of leather and cigarettes filling the air around them.

— Relax, — she slapped him on the shoulder, nearly causing Bradley to stumble. — I was just messing with you. Don’t tell me you didn’t recognize me, Bradley? God, I’ll never forget that cunnilingus in the club! I decided to have a little fun since you look ridiculous, but you surprised me, haha. So, what happened to you?

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat. 'Cunnilingus? Me? In a club?' He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck. His hands trembled nervously. The policewoman, smirking, looked at him with mild disdain, her hands resting on her belt, exuding power and confidence.

— Alright, I can see you’re clearly having some kind of problem, sweetheart, so let me give you a ride, — the policewoman smirked, gesturing toward her patrol car. Bradley froze, his heart racing. He could barely remember how to breathe. 'Whore? Cunnilingus in a club? What the hell is she talking about?' His thoughts spiraled, mixing with panic. He felt sick from everything happening around him.

— Hey, are you deaf or something? — she snapped, noticing Bradley hesitating. Her patience was clearly wearing thin. She opened the car door and, without waiting for a response, gestured for him to get in the passenger seat. — Come on, come on, don’t just stand there blocking traffic. I don’t want to have to write you a ticket on top of everything else.

Bradley, not knowing what else to do, slowly approached the car. He could feel the policewoman’s gaze drilling into his back, like she was patiently waiting for him to follow her orders. It was unbearably humiliating—to obey, to get into the car like some helpless child.

He opened the door and slid into the seat, feeling his legs shaking from the tension. The policewoman slammed the door so hard that Bradley flinched and closed his eyes for a moment. 'This can’t be real... this is... damn it, I’m in deep shit,' he thought, staring blankly ahead, not even caring what he saw.