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— Damn it, how the hell does this damn dress come off? — Jason muttered, cursing his own high-pitched voice, which still sounded completely foreign to him, even at that pitch. The damn fabric, so uncomfortable, pissed him off. He’d been in this body for an hour, and he had to do something to shed at least some of the femininity that had suddenly overwhelmed him.
But this tight dress! It felt like they’d wrapped him in plastic, and now it was clinging to every fold of fabric, and his breasts… God, they were everywhere! They bounced, constricted painfully by the uncomfortable bra, pressing these two pieces of uncontrollable flesh against him.
— Fucking hell, — Jason exhaled, finally yanking the cursed dress off over his head. His breasts jolted painfully, like two live sacks of sand attached to his new body. The gray bra dug into his skin, and the straps seemed to be sawing into his shoulders. He frantically tugged at the clasp, but his fingers slid over his sweaty back. “Shit, how do they do this every day?”
The full-length mirror...