Dan made dinner that evening, and I helped him put the kids to bed. I clicked the door softly behind me and let out a deep breath.
I joined Dan in the living room afterwards. It was thankfully quite unremarkable. I sank into the couch, resting my head against the back cushion while the television flickered softly in the dim light. Dan settled beside me, a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap.
“Those migraines can really knock you out.” He reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers, “I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. You had me worried.”
Worried? Why? Because I’d turned into someone else? I swallowed hard, holding onto the fact that this was all absurdly wrong. My heart raced as I tried to process how quickly I’d been swept into this life that wasn’t mine.
The movie ended, and Dan sighed, “Bed?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, “I think I’m going to, uh, take a bath first, though.”
I was stalling for time. I did not want him to try anything in bed.
I stood up, my heart pounding as I made my way to the bathroom. I closed the bathroom door behind me, leaning against it as I took a shaky breath.
I couldn’t stop staring at her body in the mirror. Her enormous breasts heaved up and down as I breathed, dominating the reflection, threatening to swallow me whole.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself in disbelief.
I might have considered myself lucky to be trapped in a body like hers, but it was hard to get past the shock.
“Fuck. Me.”
These were way bigger than my wife's.
I turned back towards the bathroom door, making sure it was locked.
I tentatively poked the side of one and watched it wobble. I squeezed them, testing the feel of this new body.
I jumped up and down a couple times, watching the way they bounced and settled. I was both captivated and horrified by this body.
My eyes darted between the lock and the mirror, between the world outside and this bizarre reflection of me, as if Zoey's real self might come barging in at any moment to reclaim what was rightfully hers.
I started to peel off her t-shirt.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, ogling at the sight of her breasts nestled in her bra.
They were even bigger, even more incredible than I’d imagined.
“What are you doing?” I asked Zoey’s reflection, almost expecting an answer.
An odd thrill coursed through me as I moved to unhook the bra clasp, feeling the fabric slide off my shoulders, revealing her skin inch by tantalizing inch. The sensation was electric, a mix of shame and curiosity twisting in my gut.
“What do you have to hide?” I whispered to the mirror, but only silence replied.
I let my fingers dance along the soft skin, tracing the curves and contours…
Was I really doing this? My fingers wrapped around her naked breasts.
I wanted to hate it, wanted to fight the compulsion to keep going, but damn—it felt incredible.
How could I not keep exploring?
I wanted to say I knew I had to escape this nightmare, not indulge in it. But then again, I knew I wasn’t going to solve this now. Not yet, anyway.
When would I ever have this opportunity again? I grabbed her breasts harder, reveling in the foreign but intoxicating sensation of it. I let my hands drift lower, tracing lines down her stomach.
I turned towards the bathtub with anticipation this time. I stepped into the warm water and felt the soothing embrace envelop Zoey’s body.
As the water splashed gently against Zoey’s skin, I instinctively reached for her breasts again.
The my hands traveled lower. Down between her legs, teasing her folds.
What would it feel like? How could I stop wondering? I slipped deeper, exploring her, exploring everything.
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