— What the… what now… — Robbie whispered, feeling the alcoholic haze in a matter of seconds make his mind doubt reality itself. The very reality he had already been doubting for the past few hours, which had started to feel like a waking nightmare.
— I… ouu… fuck, I… what… who… — his voice came out different, not even like it had just seconds ago, when it simply sounded like a girl. No, now it was hoarse, laced with obvious hints of an unconscious, professional lust, present in every note — the kind usually added deliberately to seduce, but now it felt so ingrained, as if he had used that seductive tone so often that it had simply become his own.
'I need to get home… home' he kept repeating to himself, plugging his ears so he wouldn’t hear anyone else, and seeing how on the other side of the street a girl dressed in baggy men’s clothes was already walking away.
— No— No, waaait — Robbie rasped, but immediately stumbled on the high heels and braced himself against the wall.
Red manicure with long nails? A tight red dress? Earrings?
He suddenly, sharply realized the scale of the changes, which this time felt far too massive. And he understood all too clearly that on this quiet street, where he thought no one would be, he had heard that hooker’s phrase far too well:
"Everything, I’d give everything to switch lives with that chick and not be drunk all the time"
She had said it just seconds ago, and Robbie, who had been walking home with his ears covered, had only opened them for a second, realizing too late that it had been a fatal mistake.
Seconds later he was already standing here, in this tight dress, on these uncomfortable heels, and, apparently, now living the life of some hooker who, judging by everything, didn’t value it much at all.
— Shit… gotta… catch up, catch her, and then… — Robbie muttered, remembering the face of that damn old woman. A fortune teller or a gypsy, hell if he knew. He just hadn’t noticed her. Did she seriously not understand that? She just needed to not stand in his way — didn’t she see that a huge two-meter machine like Robbie Smith was moving straight at her and clearly didn’t look like someone you mess with? No. She could’ve just stepped aside and everything would’ve been fine.
But no. She had to stand right in his path, and then start spouting nonsense about some kind of curse. About how he had to understand others!
Of course Robbie had just laughed in her face and would’ve even hit her if a cop hadn’t been nearby.
The word “sorry” had never once crossed Robbie’s mind, and now, standing here in this tight dress, in a place where, most likely, in five minutes some client would already find him, it didn’t cross his mind either. And it definitely hadn’t crossed his mind half an hour earlier, when, standing with his friends, he had overheard a girl passing by say to another that "she wished she were a guy."
He had turned around then, immediately noticing that the world seemed bigger, and saw only some guy walking and talking with another girl, and only when he felt the strange touch of long new hair against his neck did he realize that something was wrong.
His friends hadn’t even noticed the change. They acted as if Robbie had always been a girl hanging out in their group, with boyish facial features and mannerisms. And yes, no one found it strange that her name was Robb Smith.
Not immediately understanding what was happening, Robbie had rushed to the bathroom to look at himself, and on the way, again, damn it, heard someone say, "god, I wish I were taller," which changed his height from a fairly tall-for-a-girl 1 meter 90 centimeters to 1 meter 62 centimeters.
Robbie had sped up then, cursing the baggy clothes and pants that now dragged along the floor, looking on him like a child wearing an adult’s clothes, even though just recently they had fit perfectly.
And in the mirror he was met by her… or rather him. Or her? It was strange. He looked at his reflection, clearly seeing a woman there, short, with long hair and tits, but the face remained his.
"I wish I were more bold, I’m so tired of being shy"
Came from a girl nearby talking on the phone, and Robbie wanted to say "SHUT UP," but in that same moment felt a sharp, almost painful block inside. As if he wanted to say something, but something within him stopped him, held him back, even shamed him for the very thought of speaking up.
And now again. Despite all his attempts to just get home, even understanding how it all worked and covering his ears, he… she got caught again. Only this time everything felt SO much worse.