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— What the... — I muttered under my breath, staring at my phone screen.
On the screen, with the phone camera on, there was an image... of a girl. She was looking at the phone as if mimicking me. With my eyes, my facial expression, like she was copying me. A white tank top stretched tightly over her pretty decent-looking boobs, chestnut hair falling onto her shoulders, and in her gaze, there was something awkwardly shocked, just like my own expression.
— Is this that filter glitch again? — I exhaled, bringing the phone closer, trying to see if it was some kind of bug.
But at that moment, my elbow brushed against something soft, firm — and I jolted as if struck by electricity.
— Hey, what the... — I breathed out, feeling a strange sensation spreading through my body.
It was... warm, firm, and disturbingly realistic. The softness definitely wasn’t just fabric. No, something under the tank top... responded.
— Oh, for fuck's sake... — I growled, hearing how my voice sounded different now, and slowly pulled the phone away from my face to look down.
And my heart dropped into my stomach.
The white tank top clearly hugged two, damn it, boobs. And they weren’t just anyone's — they were mine. Moving in sync with each breath, slightly jiggling, and the sensitivity... God, I had just brushed them with my elbow — and it sent a wave deeper, tingling along my nerves.
— No, no, no... — I yanked at the collar of the tank top, peeking underneath like a complete idiot.
Under the white tank top, there they were... yeah, fuck, boobs. Mine. Pressed snugly in a beige bra — the plain kind, no lace, just smooth fabric, but its presence was impossible to ignore. The fabric pressed firmly against the skin, slightly compressing, supporting the weight of these... heavy, unreal shapes. Even through the thick fabric, I could feel the elastic band digging slightly under my chest, while the thin straps stretched over my shoulders, pressing into the skin under the weight of this unexpected burden.
I couldn't look away. A breath — the chest rose slightly, the bra pressed tighter, making the sensation even sharper.
I jerked, and suddenly realized how the hair... yeah, hair — light, soft, brushing my neck, my cheeks, falling onto my shoulders, tickling my collarbones. It felt insanely strange, like I was wrapped in something silky.
— What the hell... — I exhaled, but my voice betrayed me again. Higher, softer... shit, even with a husky rasp, it was definitely feminine.
My fingers trembled as I kept staring, dumbfounded, at my boobs, slowly tracing my hand along the curve of my own chest. The softness... Warm, firm, so sensitive it made my breath hitch. The bra's fabric tensed slightly under the pressure of my palm, smooth but tight-fitting — I could feel the heat of my skin beneath it, the thin elastic pressing around the edges, making every touch even sharper, as if the fabric only amplified the sensation.
God... These were really my boobs. Real. Alive.
My heart pounded somewhere beneath them, and with each breath, they rose, gently swaying, as if confirming their existence. Heavy. Full. Soft...