The Dance That Shouldn’t Be (Patreon)

Amid the lavish ceremony at the palace of the great shah, everyone awaited the performance of the very concubine whom Sheikh Al-Mutaz favored so generously. A tense silence filled the hall—everyone knew her dance was meant to be the climax of the evening. The guests, dressed in opulent, richly adorned garments, sat in their seats, holding their breath, awaiting the spectacle. The candles cast a soft glow on the patterned walls, flooding the hall with golden light. The air was filled with the scent of perfumes and aromatic incense, creating an atmosphere of grandeur.

But now, among all this splendor, the focus was not on the skillful dancer, but on Mike, trapped in the body of the concubine who was about to perform.

He stood there, awkwardly trying to gather his thoughts. The sheer silk outfit clung to his new feminine body, accentuating every curve, every line. All the guests’ gazes were fixed on him—they were expecting a dance, languid and mesmerizing. His heart pounded in his chest, and with every second, panic surged.

— Come on, Zulfia, — a stern, low voice sounded from behind. Jane, standing nearby in heavy robes, was now in the body of Zulfia’s owner, the one presenting her dance to the sheikh. Her voice was deep and steady. — It’s your turn.

Mike, now Zulfia, froze, his heart tightening with fear. He didn’t know what to do, but tried not to show it. They had been here for a week, and he knew this moment was coming, but he had still hoped that somehow, they would be able to return to the future.

— I can’t, — Mike whispered, feeling his female body tense with horror and disgust. It still felt like some sort of nightmare—to be the center of attention, knowing that all these people saw not a man, not an engineer from the future, but a submissive concubine whose duty was to dance. — And don’t call me that, — he added bitterly, almost hissing, feeling his insides recoil at the sound of the name “Zulfia.”

But Jane couldn’t allow him to stop. She herself was terrified of their new predicament, but knew: if Mike refused to perform now, they would both be in serious trouble. Her heavy, commanding gaze fixed on Mike, and she stepped closer, her powerful male body moving with confidence as if it had always been like this.

— You have to, — she said in a rough, deep voice that still sounded too wrong for her. But Jane seemed to be getting used to the role of the sheikh. — If you don’t do this, we could both die. Things are different here. Here you are Zulfia, a simple dancer and concubine, and they... — she hesitated slightly — and I expect you to be her, if you want me to protect you.

Mike felt the last remnants of his masculinity burn away from these... commands? Jane seemed to be getting too comfortable in the role of Zulfia’s master, and he didn’t like it at all. He wanted to scream, to drop everything and run, but where to? In a foreign body, in a foreign time, among people who saw only a female concubine in him.

— I... — Mike swallowed, feeling his chest under the silk dress rise heavily with anxious breaths. He hated it. Hated feeling so helpless.

Jane leaned in closer, her stern gaze unyielding. She truly looked like a master demanding obedience. — You’ll have to manage, Mike. Don’t think of it as yourself. Think of it as survival. In this body, you are not Mike... you are Zulfia, — her voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it carried a command.

Mike exhaled quietly, glancing at the crowd. Every person in the hall, from the oldest advisors to the youngest concubines, was focused on him. The anticipation grew. He closed his eyes for a moment and stepped forward. The silk fabric slid over his hips, causing a strange, almost ticklish sensation, and his chest swayed slightly, reminding him that it was now part of his reality. His body, though foreign, seemed to know how to move. His breathing deepened, and his muscles started responding as if they understood their obligations. Mike took a deep breath, trying to accept this unfamiliar feeling of softness and grace. He felt his hips slowly sway, and his legs began to move along the floor in rhythm to the music that had already started playing faintly.