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— Is this... is this me? — Chelsea whispered, turning her head toward the mirror and feeling her long, straight hair cascade down her bare shoulders. She touched it with trembling fingers, feeling its silky texture, as if it weren't her hair, but someone else’s. The room was silent, only the faint hum of the air conditioner filling the space.
Chelsea — that name wouldn’t leave her mind. It sounded strangely familiar, yet alien, like she'd heard it hundreds of times but couldn’t remember where. Her own name, Max, seemed to have dissolved somewhere deep in her consciousness, leaving only a sense of loss behind.
She took a step toward the mirror, her bare feet softly padding across the cold floor, her hips swaying slightly with each movement, causing her a strange feeling of awkwardness. Her reflection in the mirror was hypnotizing.
— This is impossible… — she whispered, staring into her large blue eyes, framed by long eyelashes. The straps of her lingerie dug slightly into her shoulders, emphasizing the fragility of her new body. She swallowed, feeling her breath becoming shallow and erratic.
— This is a prank, — Chelsea exhaled, trying to find any explanation for what was happening. — Or... or I’ve gone crazy.
Her hands instinctively adjusted the lace bra, which clung perfectly to her breasts, but the action only made her feel worse. She understood intellectually that she was doing it instinctively, like wearing such things had become second nature to her.
Suddenly, something...