Just for a Day

— Yeah, yeah, yeah, and then that steak ended up on Monica’s tits! You should’ve seen her face! — Zak burst out laughing, wiping away tears. His voice was an octave higher than usual, and every time he laughed, the breasts under his sports bra bounced in rhythm. He was sitting directly on some rolled-up towels, legs stretched out in front of him, and had almost completely forgotten that he was, technically, a pregnant woman at the moment.

— Jesus, Zak, enough, — groaned Trevor, glancing at his friend’s belly. — Those aren’t tits, they’re milk bombs. Quit laughing or you’re gonna pop that kid out right here.

— Yeah, sure, — Zak waved it off, squeezing a juicy piece of mango between his fingers. — It’s just for the day. Tomorrow morning I’ll be back with balls and without this damn drum, — he slapped his belly, and the baby inside shifted reluctantly.

Kevin was just walking into the room, carrying two plastic cups. His eyes drifted over Zak’s pregnant body — the tight athletic shorts hugged his thighs, the belly protruded like a round crescent, and the sports bra highlighted his heavy breasts pressed tight against the fabric.

— Maybe you shouldn’t be drinking? — Kevin muttered as he passed by and placed one of the cups at the edge of the table.

— Chill, bro, — Zak waved him off and licked the mango juice off his fingers. — I always do it like this. If I have to take on a random body every six months for the club contract, then at least I’m not gonna deal with a hangover tomorrow!

Kevin just let out a silent sigh, not wanting to watch Zak pour another whiskey and coke into that hormone-flooded female body.

— Do you even realize how irresponsible this is? — he muttered, settling into the green armchair. — Sara, right? That’s what we’re supposed to call you?

— Don’t start, Kev, — Zak waved him off, lips pulling into a sarcastic pout. — Yeah, yeah, “Sara,” waitress from Denny’s, lives in a trailer park with a dog named... shit! The dog! I was supposed to feed her! — Zak smacked his forehead, making his breasts bounce noticeably under the sports bra.

"Sara" reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, swayed slightly, and poured herself more whiskey into the plastic cup. Slim feminine fingers, coated in pale pink polish, trembled a bit, but Zak didn’t care. A sip, then another. The body warmed up pleasantly, though the belly began to ache more.

— Fuck, — Zak muttered, wrapping both hands around his belly. — The baby’s not a fan of whiskey, apparently... Ha! Wimp!

Trevor winced:

— Zak... I mean, Sara... seriously, this isn’t funny anymore.

— Don’t be so dramatic, — Zak waved him off, absentmindedly playing with his feet. — Everything’s under control. She’s — he pointed at his chest — off today. I’ve got a Friday night. And I’ve got every right to have a little fun in her body. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up, back to my junk. And her body, apparently, gets passed on to someone else. Along with the hangover!

At that moment, the door burst open with a bang. A tall, lean but muscular man appeared on the threshold, his face tired, eyes burning with fury. He wore a denim shirt, baggy pants, and prison boots. In his hand was an old smartphone with a blinking GPS signal.

— …Sara? — he breathed. — What the... fuck... is going on here?

Zak froze instantly, the cup halted mid-motion. All three of them stared at the newcomer.

— Who the hell are you? — Kevin was the first to speak, jumping to his feet.

But the man was already moving toward "Sara," eyes wide.

— Is that... you?! Sara?! What the hell… with the belly… And these guys… Are you drunk?! — his voice trembled. — I... I got out this morning. Fucking prison, five years! I thought you… you...

Zak blinked. His head was swimming from the booze.

The heart — foreign, female — suddenly clenched with an unfamiliar panic. He felt the breasts tighten, the lower belly pull with a dull ache. No words came out.

— Hey, man, calm down! — Trevor tried to step in. — This isn’t what it looks like...

— Shut the fuck up, asshole! — the man roared, and there was something… predatory in his voice. — I did time for her. And now what? She’s drinking, knocked up, hanging around with a bunch of fuckboys?!

— My name is Zak! — "Sara" blurted out, instinctively raising his hands, the tits visibly lifting again. — You… you don’t understand. It’s a body swap club… I just took this body for a day!

The man blinked. A second of silence.

— …What the fuck are you talking about, Sara? — he hissed, stepping closer. — What bodies, for fuck’s sake? What kind of bullshit is this?! That’s how you love me?! Which one of them knocked you up?!

— Hey, keep your hands to yourself! — Trevor immediately stepped between them, arms out like a barrier. His voice was tense, but steady. — We don’t want trouble, man. Just… maybe take a seat, alright?

— Move! — the man roared and shoved Trevor aside with ease. Trevor flew back, hit his head against the wall, and almost blacked out. — I did five fucking years! Five! For this dumb bitch! And now I get out and she’s… with a belly and drunk, surrounded by a bunch of dickheads?!

A ringing silence fell over the room. Zak, even through his alcohol-dulled mind, instinctively understood: this just turned fucking dangerous. The guy was on edge, veins bulging in his neck, fists clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white.

— Zak… — Kevin hissed, barely moving his lips. — Pretend to be Sara. Just… play along. Got it? For all our sakes.

Zak turned his head toward him. His heart was pounding in his throat. He wanted to argue, wanted to scream Are you fucking insane?!, but… the heavy tits, the belly that kept aching stronger, the pink nails, and the soft feel of the thighs as he tried to stand up… Everything around him screamed: there’s nowhere to run.

— I… I was just… — he tried to say, feeling his voice crack, turning into a whiny female squeak.

— Just what?! — The man grabbed “Sara” by the wrist. His palm was warm, calloused, smelling of sweat and cigarettes. — You look like you don’t even fucking know who I am — he leaned in closer, and Zak suddenly realized how massive this guy seemed from above. — It’s me! Jimmy! Your fucking husband!

Zak tried to pull away, but the weak female muscles were no match. And the alcohol wasn’t helping either.

— I’m not… — he managed to say, but Jimmy already yanked him up. Zak let out a scream — instinctive, feminine, a high-pitched, frightened sound that startled even him.

— I said get ready! — Jimmy growled. — We’re leaving! I’m not going back to prison, you hear me?! I’ve got it all figured out. We’re going to Mexico. We’ll have a trailer there. Start fresh, without these... — he shot a glance at the guys. — Punks.

— Wait! — Kevin shouted, jumping up. — You can’t just take her… take her and leave!

— And you can? — Jimmy thrust a finger into Kevin’s chest. — She’s my wife! My shit! My woman! Yeah, not my kid, but I’ll deal with that too! And if I wanna take her all the way to fucking Arizona, that’s my goddamn right!

Zak stood there swaying. His legs trembled. Everything was happening too fast.

Jimmy looked back at the others and practically shoved Zak toward the door:

— Say goodbye to your little boyfriends. We’re outta here.

— Wait! — “Sara” sobbed, gasping like he’d just realized this moment might change his life forever. — I… I can’t just leave — he whispered, looking up at Jimmy.

— What do you mean you can’t? — Jimmy froze, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

— I… I have a dog! — Zak blurted the first thing that came to mind, clutching his belly and wincing. — She needs to eat… she’s in the trailer…

Jimmy frowned for a second, then smirked like he figured something out — but still yanked “Sara” by the elbow:

— Alright, fine! Let’s go get your dog!

Zak cast a glance at his friends, a silent plea for help in his eyes, but they only stared back, frozen, clearly realizing that arguing with Jimmy now would only make things worse.

— We’re going — Jimmy growled through clenched teeth, and without waiting for an answer, jerked “Sara” into the hallway.

— Guys... — Zak’s voice cracked into a high, unexpectedly whiny female tone. He flinched at the soft little “ah” that came out instead of his usual baritone.

The door slammed shut behind them.

The room fell into a suffocating silence. An empty cup rolled across the floor, bumping against the leg of the table. Trevor slowly stood up, clutching his head, blood dried on his lips. Kevin stared at the closed door, unblinking.

— Fuck... — Trevor exhaled quietly. — He’s gonna take her... Or him… Shit, you get it.

— We gotta do something — Kevin hissed, fists clenched. — He’s seriously gonna drag him off to fucking Mexico.