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— Ugh… damn it, — mumbled Aleya, fumbling helplessly with the bra clasp, her fingers trembling as they caught on the tiny hooks.

She didn’t even notice, nor could she see, that her breasts were literally bursting out of the tight cups, barely held back by the fabric. Just one deeper breath, and it seemed that this bright-pink piece of nonsense would simply give up, releasing the heavy, firm shapes.

— Mersia, choke on it, — she hissed through her teeth after missing the hooks again. — I knew it, I knew your damn bra would never fit on my… these…!

'What a mockery. I can’t even look down properly, like I don’t have a body. But I feel everything! Every fold, every pressing seam. Damn Mersia…' she thought to herself, lowering her gaze only to see the same emptiness as in the mirror. Well, not emptiness exactly, but a floating, stretched-to-the-limit purple bra and a tight black skirt hanging in the air.

Behind her, Mersia appeared with a toothbrush in her mouth — barefoot, in a long white shirt hanging open, barely covering her hips. She stopped in the doorway, leaned lazily against the frame, and enjoyed watching Aleya’s struggle.

— Mmm… — she hummed through the foam, squinting, — the view is simply divine.

Aleya flinched and darted to the mirror, but once again saw only the ridiculous combination: a purple bra ready to snap off and a dark skirt floating in the void.

— What are you staring at? — she snapped, shaking her head so her hair fell onto her breasts, making the fabric stretch dangerously again. — Just tell me if it at least fits right or not? ‘Cause I think it doesn’t.

Mersia yawned, half-closing her eyes. She saw Aleya the same way everyone else did. Yeah, despite all the vampire tales, in reality it all worked completely differently. Vampires were no different from other people — they weren’t afraid of garlic or sunlight. All of that was distorted, and even blood they needed only once a month. Still, most of the legends about vampires didn’t come from nowhere.

They lived long — that part was true. The oldest was around thirty thousand years old now. They drank blood, yes, but any kind would do. Sunlight? It caused allergies, but it wasn’t deadly. Even with reflections it wasn’t like in the stories. Vampires did reflect, but they couldn’t see themselves, not only in the mirror — their vision after transformation simply changed so they couldn’t perceive themselves at all, like they were invisible, though to others they looked completely normal.

— You mixed up the bras, — Mersia finally said after pulling the toothbrush out of her mouth, smirking like a predator. — That one was mine, like ten years ago. Even on me it fit tight, and on you… — her gaze slid lazily down Aleya’s breasts, she snapped her fingers, — well, let’s just say there’s way too much ambition for those tiny little hooks.

— Are they really that big… — Aleya breathed out, as if afraid to admit it to herself. Her breasts weighed heavily under the pink bra, each cup trembling with the strain of the fabric, and with the slightest movement everything threatened to spill out.

She swallowed, but her throat was dry. The very thought that this was now her body, her everyday reality, hit her like a cold shower. Just a couple of months ago, she had been Ethan Johnson — a twenty-six-year-old guy from Seattle who naively fell for promises of eternal life. He dreamed of endless strength, immortality, the image of a vampire hunter from the movies. But instead of muscles, speed, and fangs, he now had this female shell he had to deal with every second.

Mersia stepped closer, flicked her nail against the bra strap, making it snap against Aleya’s skin and pull even tighter.

— Of course they’re big, darling. You thought you’d turn into Blade’s copy? — she smirked, leaning close enough that the ends of her long black hair brushed against Aleya’s shoulder. — I warned you: every turned one’s body changes differently. Yours just decided immortality should be… busty.

— Busty? — Aleya shut her eyes, clenching her teeth. Inside, everything boiled over. She wanted to scream that she was a man, that this was a mistake, that her hands weren’t supposed to slip helplessly over tiny hooks, trying to restrain tits that bounced heavily with every breath. But instead of a scream, only a low groan of frustration escaped her, as the bra gave in again and one breast nearly spilled out.

Mersia laughed and patted her shoulder gently:

— Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. You’ve got an eternity for that...Full story (10 600 characters - 3 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon