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I was sitting on the couch, lazily flipping through TV channels. As usual, there was nothing interesting on, but for me, switching channels was a kind of meditation. Ha, maybe. It was Friday evening, and I probably should have gone out for a drink with friends, but—what friends, really, when you’re 37 and you…
DING!
A sudden doorbell chime yanked me out of my apathetic state. I even flinched, dropping the remote to the floor. Who the hell could it be? I wasn’t expecting anyone. It was late, and I lived alone. My heart started pounding nervously, and a few unpleasant scenarios flashed through my mind—anything from an annoying neighbor to something much worse.
I cautiously approached the door and looked through the peephole…
A girl was standing outside.
No, not just a girl.
She was a goddess in human form. Tall, slender, dressed in a tight white dress that didn’t hide her curves but rather emphasized them. In one hand, she held a glass of red wine, and her gaze was directed downward, as if she was studying something on the floor. She must have gotten the wrong door or something—there was no way she was here for me...
Then she lifted her eyes.
And as if she realized I was standing behind the door watching her, she waved her delicate hand and smiled—so soft, so sweet—that my knees almost gave out. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and stepped away from the door. My heart was hammering like I had just run a marathon. Who was she? What did she want?
— Mike, come on, open up already.
Her voice was… mesmerizing. Quiet, but commanding. There was something strangely familiar about it. A shiver ran down my spine. My heart thundered in my chest, my palms grew sweaty. Who the hell was she? How did she know my name?
I swallowed hard, nerves twisting into a tight knot. My brain was running slow, but my gut was screaming: Don’t open the door.
But my body had other plans.
A click of the lock. The door slowly creaked open.
She stood right in front of me.
Tall, slender, with dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and hoop earrings dangling from her ears—my favorite look on a woman. The white dress hugged her figure so tightly, it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It was thin, almost sheer—her curves clearly outlined beneath, the swell of her breasts, her nipples pressing against the fabric, the panties clinging to her hips. On her feet—black high-heeled sandals. One hand still held the wine glass, the other hung loosely by her side.
She was exactly how I imagined the perfect woman.
She smelled sweet, warm… vanilla, a faint hint of alcohol, the scent of a woman’s skin. She was looking straight at me—her eyes filled with amusement and… curiosity? As if she was evaluating me.
— Finally. — She smiled, taking a sip of wine. — Mike, you have no idea how much I have to tell you.
I swallowed.
— Who are you? — My voice came out hoarse, like I’d just downed a bottle of whiskey.
She stepped forward. Instinctively, I stepped back, and she slipped inside, leaving behind a faint trace of her perfume. Her movements were light and effortless as she shut the door, while I just stood there, stunned, trying to figure out—why the hell did I let her in?
She turned around, lazily leaning against the door, taking another sip of wine. Her lips glistened slightly under the dim light of my ceiling lamp, and for a moment, I had the impression that she was savoring not just the drink but also my reaction.
— Oh, Mikey… maybe you could at least show some hospitality and invite a lady in? — Her voice was smooth, teasing, as if she already knew exactly how I’d react.
I blinked. Shit, what the hell is going on? Why did I let her in? Why didn’t I just say, "Wrong door," slam it shut, and go back to my mindless channel surfing? That’s what I should have done. That’s what I always do. But now… I felt like I wasn’t in control of myself.
— Um… I… — The words stuck in my throat, but my survival instincts were still kicking. — This is all… weird.
I took a step back, watching her warily. This could be a prank. Maybe Steven set me up? Or, worse—she was a lunatic. Or a thief. I was about to say she should leave, but she suddenly chuckled and, slipping past me, moved deeper into the room with the kind of grace only a woman who knows she’s in charge can pull off. The wine in her glass swayed slightly, but not a single drop spilled.
— No, Steven has nothing to do with this, and I’m not a thief. — She spoke without turning around, a smirk evident in her voice.
I froze. What? How the hell…
— And I’m not crazy, either. — She continued, spinning gracefully on her heel to face me again, that same smirk playing on her lips. — Well… I guess that’s debatable.
She took a few more steps, light, effortless, almost like dancing, as she looked around my apartment.
— Oh wow, it’s all just like I remember… — She dragged a finger across a dusty shelf and glanced at it. — Even this pathetic little magazine with "hot babes." Seriously, Mike? We should’ve thrown this out ages ago, and you’re still fantasizing about Stacy? Staring at some model? Get over her already.
I froze. How the hell does she know all this? What the fuck is going on?!
— W-what?.. — I whispered, but my voice trembled, as if squeezed out of a parched throat.
She turned to me with a kind of half-smile—shit, is she mocking me? That’s my thing. And where the hell did she get all this information? About the magazine? About Stacy?
At that moment, she tilted her head as if studying me, squinting like a professor examining some strange museum artifact. Her chest hung slightly under the dress, making the thin fabric stretch even more, outlining her shape in clear detail. But there was something... off about her expression.
— Well, Mike, what can I say… You look like you just shit yourself, ha-ha! — Her voice suddenly changed. The softness, the smoothness disappeared, replaced by an exaggerated roughness, even a slight rasp.
I flinched.
— W-what?
But she just snorted, set her glass down on the table, then theatrically pulled out an imaginary pack of cigarettes from thin air, tapped it against her palm as if shaking one loose, put it between her lips, and pretended to light it.
— Yeah, bro, some real fucked-up shit going on, huh? — she muttered in a low voice, one that grated strangely in my ears with its coarse, eerily familiar tone.
I went cold.
She glanced at me sideways, savoring my reaction, then let out a noisy breath as if exhaling smoke and shook her head.
— Shit, I’m quitting, uhh… Haven’t smoked for a whole year, man, — she added, frowning, and then, as if irritated, flicked away the imaginary cigarette with a curse.
And then she burst out laughing.
Loud, sudden, mocking. She even threw her head back slightly, leaned back, and slapped her thigh—exactly how I laugh when something is so ridiculously funny that it’s more out of nerves than amusement.
— Sorry, couldn’t resist, — she lifted her glass with grace, took a sip, then ran her tongue over her lips.
I swallowed. What. The. Fuck.
— W-what the... — My voice broke. I felt an icy chill crawl down my spine. — Who the fuck are you?!
She tilted her head, studying me as if deciding what to do next. Her lips slowly curled into a smile, but her eyes gleamed with mockery.
— Oh, come on, Mike, you’re not that stupid. You know exactly what’s happening here.
I swallowed hard, feeling a lump of fear and confusion lodged in my throat. Every cell in my body screamed: This can't be real.
But this woman—this goddamn familiar woman—stood in front of me, speaking in my words, moving like me, smirking like me.
And she looked…
— Shit… — I exhaled, grabbing the back of the couch as if it could keep me anchored in reality. — This… this is some kind of prank, right?
She rolled her eyes—exactly the way I do when someone is talking absolute bullshit.
— Jesus, Mike, do you even hear yourself? — She squinted, then lazily ran her fingers along her chin as if scratching a beard—then suddenly jerked her hand away. — Oh, old habit. Funny, huh? All these years in this body, and my hand still reaches for it. Can you imagine? By the way, do you still jerk off to…
She made a dramatic pause, relishing my reaction. I tensed, something inside me flipping over. The cold lump of fear twisted into something else… something much deeper.
— …the idea of turning into a chick?
It was like I got electrocuted. Heat and cold slammed into my head at the same time, sending a tremor through my entire body. I sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t enough. The world tilted.
What the fuck? No one. No one knows about this!
I stared at her, barely breathing. My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that the sound roared in my ears.
— I... I... I don’t... That’s not true! What the hell are you saying?!
She smiled, but this time it was softer, almost… sympathetic. She slowly stepped closer, her heels clicking in rhythm with my frantic heartbeat. Her dress rustled, revealing her thigh with every step.
Stopping just inches away, she tilted her head slightly, studying my face.
— Mike, — her voice was soft again, almost gentle. — Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so blunt about our secret…
Her hand touched mine, slowly, but gently, pulling it up toward her chest. I didn’t even realize how my palm ended up pressed against her soft, warm, rounded mound, feeling the incredible firmness through the thin fabric of her dress.
I shuddered. My hand twitched, but she didn’t let me pull away. Her fingers tightened around my wrist, pressing it firmly against her, and under my fingertips, I could feel the taut, hardened peak of her nipple.
She let out a quiet breath, barely audible, but the sound hit me like lightning to the back of the head. I felt the heat rising from my stomach to my throat.
— What are you doing? — My voice came out hoarse, stuck somewhere in my dry throat. — I… I can’t… this is…
She tilted her head slightly, that mysterious half-smile playing on her lips—a mix of amusement and something… else. She even blushed a little, but her gaze remained firm.
— Can’t what, Mike? — Her voice was soft, almost an echo in my mind. — Touch your own chest?
I ripped my hand away as if burned, staring at her face. But now I knew—I had seen that face before.
I had definitely seen it. In FaceApp. When I made my female version.
What. The. Fuck.
...