“Interesting.” You think to yourself. You realize you can now read Japanese. But can you still speak and read English?
“Ok, test, test, one, two, three.” You repeat to yourself. It seems like you have an accent when you speak. Next, you look down at your notepad. You are still able to read your notes no problem.
“Phew.” You wipe the pretend sweat off your face and look back at your monitor. The monitor’s screen had gone black. What was left was your reflection staring back at you.
Your face was smooth, no hint of there ever being facial hair on your delicate face. You no longer showed a sign of your growing double chin, instead what was reflected was a thin face that looked healthy but not over weight. You looked at your eyes which no longer showed signs of tiredness. You looked at your nose which was small and cute. Your lips were puffier and less rough to the touch. You felt your back tingle as your long black hair swayed from all the movement you were doing. You touched it, only to feel how soft it was. You wanted to see more of yourself but you still had the decency not to undress in public (even if it was semi private in your cubicle).
You leaned outside your workstation and looked around to see if anyone was nearby. You then went to take a step outside, only for you to almost lose your balance.
“Woah!” you cry out to yourself as you start wobbling around, trying to regain your balance. You manage to do so and look down. It seems your wearing high heels.
“Oh ok.” You breath out and take a few steps at a time as you use your cubical as support.
“Thank god my station is so close to the bathroom.” You think to yourself as you see the doors leading to each individual bathroom.
“Alright, just gotta get my key to the private one out.” You put your hand to your rear to try and pull out the key but there was one problem. You were wearing a skirt. And skirts equal no pockets.
“Oh no.” You whimper. “Ok so if I don’t carry it with me, that must mean it should be somewhere near my desk.” You dread having to walk back to your station but you persevere and make it back.
“Not here, not there, maybe over here?” You mumble to yourself as you open each drawer only to be met with no key. Then it hits you, you’re a secretary now. The same class as a regular worker. You’re no longer a project lead. No longer important enough to have a chance at a private restroom. You sigh, and ponder your choices.
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