Office show (Patreon)

Mike hated his father.

He hated every one of his idiotic ideas, which usually turned into a catastrophe. But today… today the old man outdid himself. "Body swap for one day," — that’s what he called it. Officially, it was called "Corporate Bonding," but to everyone, it was obvious: it was just another attempt to draw attention to the company. His father turned their work into a reality show where all the employees swapped bodies and were forced to act as each other, while being watched by cameras.

And now he — Mike Flynn, heir to the company — was sitting at a desk, cluttered with papers and some strange knickknacks, which, apparently, belonged to a secretary named Tiffany, as it said on his name badge. Long fingers with a perfect manicure nervously tapped on the table. A tight pink suit squeezed against this enormous chest, the skirt stretched across his hips, and the heels he was forced to wear were already causing pain.

"How did you even come to work without makeup?" her voice was sharp, but Mike could see her sneaking glances at the camera in the corner.

"How did you even come to work without makeup?" Her face — one of the warehouse workers, now forced to play the role of the boss — looked tense. She knew who he was. Everyone knew who he really was, but the rules of this absurd show demanded that everyone acted as if everything was normal. As if he really were Tiffany — a dumb blonde, the secretary who sat at this very desk every day.

"That’s unprofessional, Tiffany. You know the rules." she added, nervously smirking, but her gaze flicked back to the camera.

"Go make yourself presentable. To the ladies’ room. Now!"

‘Makeup? Make myself presentable?’ Mike wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but inside, he was boiling with humiliation and anger. His own face, masculine and harsh, looked utterly ridiculous against the backdrop of this fragile feminine figure. His shoulders tensed as if trying to hide from the others’ gaze.

"Are you serious?" he spat, feeling the anger flare up. But his new, high-pitched voice — Tiffany’s voice — sounded strangely soft, and that only infuriated him more.

"Did you say something, Tiffany?" her voice suddenly became harsher, and Mike saw her grow more confident.

She knew he couldn’t refuse. All the cameras were watching their every move, and everyone knew their role in this crazy spectacle. Online views had already soared into the hundreds of thousands, and a huge number of people were watching this.

Mike closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. This whole day felt unreal, as if he’d fallen into some absurd dream. But the dream was reality. The feeling of heaviness on his chest, the tight skirt, the uncomfortable heels — none of it left him for a minute. And now this…

He looked at the "boss," who was watching him with poorly hidden fear. Her hands twitched nervously, and she kept glancing at the camera. She clearly felt out of place, like everyone else.

"And what about my meeting with Mr. Bennett?" the "boss" looked at him again with a nervous smirk, as if she herself didn’t know what to do next.

Mike gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his irritation. Her question was more to defuse the situation and make everything seem "routine," but inside, he was boiling from the absurdity of what was happening.

"I… I’ll deal with that later," Mike growled, but Tiffany’s high, gentle voice sounded anything but threatening.

He stood up in silence, desperately trying to keep his balance on the high heels. His feet immediately ached from the unfamiliar shoes. His first step was awkward, his body swayed, and he had to stretch out his hand to steady himself, feeling his whole chest bounce heavily, reminding him of itself.

Each step down the hallway felt like a separate ordeal. The heels clacked on the floor, and Mike instinctively tensed every muscle, trying not to fall. His hips moved in a strange, wide motion, and with every movement, the skirt stretched so tight it seemed like it would tear at any moment. He felt his body swaying, as if it had a life of its own, and with each step, the massive chest rose and fell, as if it had its own will.

Mike tried to keep a straight face, but he felt the stares. The surrounding employees threw quick, sneaky, curious glances at him, but no one dared to say anything out loud. All they could do was whisper behind his back. Some even seemed to smile, as if they found something amusing in this absurdity. And that only made him angrier.

‘I hate that old man!’