Explore This Body Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 6 by deleted_user

The silence of the attic rushes in. You are alone with her. With you.

Your hands are trembling as you bring them back to your chest. 34DD. The words are a brand in your mind. You look down, truly seeing the swell of them, the way they strain the front of your old button-down shirt. Larger than Margaret's. The thought is a gut punch of guilt that somehow, perversely, makes your heart beat faster. You undo the first button, then the next, your new fingers fumbling. The fabric falls open.

You stare at your reflection. The breasts are pale and full, the nipples a soft pink and pebbled tight from the cool air. You cup their weight again, and this time there is no one to watch. A low moan escapes you as your thumbs brush over the stiff peaks. The pleasure is so direct, so intense, it steals your breath.

Your other hand slides down your flat stomach, past the waistband of your slacks. You find that hidden, slick seam again. Your body arches, your head falling back. This is wrong. This is incredible. This is yours.

The last shred of resistance snaps. Guilt, confusion, the ghost of Margaret—it all evaporates in the face of this raw, consuming need. You let your slacks and briefs fall completely, kicking them away with a frantic, uncoordinated motion. The cool attic air kisses your bare skin, raising goosebumps that only make the heat beneath your skin burn brighter.

You don't make it to the floor. You brace yourself against the heavy oak trunk, your back to the grimy mirror, unable to watch the stranger anymore. You need to feel her.

Your right hand palms your breast again, kneading the soft, heavy flesh, your thumb circling the aching nipple until it’s a tight, desperate point. The sensations are a feedback loop, each touch to your chest sending another pulse of need straight to your core. Your left hand slides between your legs, fingers seeking, finding.

You discover the geography of your new body with frantic urgency. The slick, swollen folds. The hard, eager nub at the apex. You gasp as you touch it, a jolt of pure lightning seizing your muscles. It’s an overwhelming sensitivity, almost too much, but your body knows what to do. Your hips begin to move against your own hand, a slow, then frantic rhythm born of an instinct you didn't know you possessed.

Pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point. Your breath comes in ragged sobs. The world narrows to this single point of contact, this shocking, miraculous feeling. It’s a crescendo of light and heat, a shattering release that makes your legs give way. You slump against the trunk, panting, trembling, utterly spent.

In the heavy, silent aftermath, a single, clear thought rises from the haze.

You have two wishes left.