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"tsk rrk" echoed through the kitchen when Mike knocked the eggshell against the skillet, followed immediately by a sharp "slap" as the white and yolk splashed onto the hot surface. The pan answered instantly with a dull hiss: "chsh chsh chsh..."
— Can’t you be more careful? — Stephen snapped, flinching as hot oil from the skillet splattered right onto his C-cup Tits.
He jerked back from the stove, his palms brushing against the soft, tender skin of his Breasts.
— Well, sorry, — Mike mumbled, flipping the eggs, — I’m just not used to your kitchen. And anyway, you’re standing too close!
— Who even makes eggs in the evening?! — Stephen shrieked, jumping away from the stove, as if trying to hide that he’d actually screamed because he’d accidentally brushed his nipple.
— Stephanie likes eggs in the evening, — Mike said calmly, though tension threaded through his voice. He was clearly waiting for a reaction, but Stephen stayed silent, then added:
— I get it, mine’s weird too. Just yesterday she took my pads and hid them, — Stephen snorted, fiddling in place, trying not to touch his Tits, which had almost grazed the hot rim of the pan. — Like, “you spend too much”… As if I chose my cycle!
— Haha, yeah, — Mike chuckled, finally turning the stove off and stepping aside. — Yesterday Stephanie asked if I wanted to shave “down there” tighter. I said, “What do you mean?!” And she goes, “Well, between your legs, to keep it clean. You know, that’s what men do…”
— Oh God, — Stephen ran his fingers through his thick chestnut hair, tossing it back, but then hissed as the steamed tips stuck to his neck. — Wait, you still don’t shave there?
— Do you already? — Mike replied in surprise, looking askance at him, — Have you completely gotten into it?
— Victoria left me no choice, — Stephen hissed angrily, — But there are upsides to it.
He grudgingly pulled the waistband of his underwear down a bit, as though casually checking the smoothness. The reflection in the toaster smirked — his chest swayed slightly with the movement, the skin beneath dampened with sweat, and it was almost… irritatingly pleasant.
— What kind of “upsides”? — Mike squinted, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel.
— Well, — Stephen grimaced, as if admitting something shameful, — You move easier… nothing gets in the way. And… well, never mind.
Stephen blushed, looking away and scratching the back of his head, then suddenly added, not wanting to continue the topic, as if embarrassed by what he’d remembered.
— Dumb world, right? I still can’t get used to looking like a woman here, having to cook like a woman, put up with these Tits and even… — Stephen paused, grabbing a bunch of carrots and starting to slice them, — But I have to dress like a man, damn it, it’s some kind of mockery. These shorts, these… they don’t even have bras here!...Full story (9 700 characters - 2 parts) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon