Interesting Glasses

And why the hell is he looking at me like that? He put on those dumbass glasses and now he's staring like… ugh, fuck, my balls are itching, but he just keeps staring. Ah, whatever, why the hell should I be embarrassed in front of Jake? We’ve talked about chicks a hundred times and gotten drunk together a million more. Screw it.

— Oh… — I heard him say, and I had to stop halfway, my hand frozen near my jeans, because that “Oh” sounded really, really weird. His mouth was even slightly open like he was expecting something from me. What the fuck, dude?

— Hey! What the hell?! — I raised my voice, 'cause he was still staring like he’d seen… I don’t know… something unimaginable.

And then Jake took a step back. Slowly. Almost reverently. And with that weird half-smile on his face, kind of crooked, like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

— D-dude… you… — he stammered, — I mean, it’s fine, keep going, I… uh… I’m just watching.

I narrowed my eyes. No one says shit like that just like that. I knew Jake. He could scream at dumb memes, laugh like an idiot when someone face-planted off a skateboard. But this… this “just watching” sounded like he just caught me changing in a dressing room or some shit.

— What the hell, perv? — I snorted, but my hand instinctively jerked away from my jeans. — You high or something?

— No… No-no-no… It’s just… — He stared again. And in that moment, I felt like stepping away. Just one step back, away from that weird vibe, from that look in his eyes. Because there was something in it that wasn’t about “a friend looking at a friend.” Something… like he wanted me?

— Fucking hell, Jake! Don’t make me think weird-ass shit, alright?! — I said that while turning away, scratching my chest.

— Umm… — came from the side. A kind of strangled, guilty exhale, like Jake was holding himself back.

I turned around, and then… his hand. Right by his fly. He was standing slightly sideways, but I could still see how he… adjusted. Yeah. Just like that. Trying to be sneaky, but he was clearly hard. Hard while looking at me.

— Jake… — I hissed through my teeth. — What the fuck is wrong with you?

— I’m sorry! — he threw his hands up right away, but didn’t move back. His eyes were kinda… drunk. Wet. — I know it sounds fucking crazy, but… dude, you… you look like a real girl. Like, right in front of me. Like... — he nodded toward the glasses, — those things, they… they show how you’d look if you were a chick. Or something like that.

I blinked. And while my brain was still trying to even process that, he suddenly took another step closer.

— Listen, — he whispered, with that strange smile, — can I… can I see again? You… you just touched… well… your tits. It looked… hot.

— Jake! — I stepped back, but my heel hit the wall, and there was nowhere else to go. My stomach twisted — either from the absurdity or the way he was looking. Looking like… like I really was some girl.

— Look, just… if not, then maybe… maybe we could just try, like, see what it’s like, you know… — his voice trembled, and he reached out toward me.

I didn’t have time — like, literally blinked, and his fingers were already on my chest. No, more like… on my sweater. My regular male chest that wasn’t supposed to have anything. But in that weird touch, that slow, almost gentle squeeze, I felt something. Felt something that shouldn’t have been there. Softness. Density. A curve pressing against the fabric. It was impossible, but I felt it like I actually had… breasts.

— Ah!.. — escaped my lips before I could shut myself up, but that sound, that pathetic gasp with a note of surprise and something else, just came out on its own. I jerked away immediately, but it was already too late.

He looked at me like I was something holy. Slowly pulled his hand back, like he was afraid to break some illusion I was already starting to suspect, but it all still felt like complete nonsense. His pupils were trembling, his breath uneven.

— God, — he whispered. — That was… that really was…

— You’re fucking insane! — I croaked, suddenly raising my hand and smashing Jake in the face, and in that one moment, everything changed.

Because as soon as my fingers touched the frame — click! — like someone flipped a switch. And right at that moment, as I watched the glasses fall and my foot moved to crush them, I noticed I wasn’t wearing my jeans anymore. But black tights. Thick, smooth, stretched tight enough that I instantly felt how they hugged my thighs, touched my skin, slid — and squeezed.

But it was already too late — my foot, for some reason also stuck in these pale little sneakers with flower prints, way too small, had already stepped down on those glasses with a crunch! And the moment they broke, I froze, and almost immediately felt a chill run down my leg. The leg was thin, slender, the tights stretched perfectly tight, especially between the legs, where something felt… completely different, something that shouldn’t have been there — or rather, something that wasn’t there anymore.

My eyes immediately caught something else.

The top. Semi-transparent with flower patterns, clearly showing two bulges that definitely weren’t supposed to be there. Two round shapes, obviously feminine, with visible nipples, stubbornly poking through the thin fabric. And I felt them! Every touch of that soft dress fabric, every little breeze in the room — it all echoed down there, like the body itself wanted to be touched.

I was breathing, and they rose and fell slightly. They… were part of me. And with every breath, I felt their weight — not heavy, but there. A light itch in the nipples from the fabric brushing against them. I… I was a girl.

— No, no, no… — I breathed out, but the voice… God, that voice. That wasn’t me. That was a girl’s voice. Soft, quiet, with a hint of tremble that drilled into my ears. And Jake heard it too. He stood there like he was in a trance, looking at me like… he saw my soul. Or more likely, my boobs. Or maybe both.

— Holy shit, — Jake said, almost reverently, like he just witnessed a miracle. — You… you really are her now. I told you. The glasses were just showing the truth… You… You’re… fucking hell…

He stepped toward me. And right then I realized I was scared, but not like before. It was… different. Something else entirely. Because he wasn’t looking at his buddy. He was looking at me like a girl he wanted — a girl he just touched.

I backed away. Though, I don’t even know if I could say it was still “me.” Because when your hips move separately, like a wave, when the tights are so tight you feel them pressing between your legs and there’s just nothing there anymore — just emptiness and that weird, hypersensitive skin — you can’t really say you’re still a guy. Even if deep inside… you’re screaming that this is all fake.

I pulled that too-short top down and felt how it clung to my breasts, how the nipples tensed up again like they were pissed I didn’t hide them. But there was no way to hide them. I could feel every motion, saw how Jake stared at them with those hungry eyes. The tights were sliding down a little, and I — fuck, I actually thought about lifting my top and sticking my hand in to pull them up. Because it was just… uncomfortable otherwise. Because the fabric was rubbing, sliding, pressing between my legs where now the skin was so damn sensitive that just a touch sent shivers all over my body — and Jake, fucking Jake, standing right there!

— Stop, don’t look! — I shouted, covering my breasts with my arms, but it only made it worse. Jake swallowed hard. His pupils were like a predator’s, right before the pounce. — Don’t come any closer. Don’t. Come. Closer! — I yelled, my voice cracking, trembling. A real girl’s voice. Not a trace of my old one.

— But you… you liked it, — he muttered. — You even gasped…

My knees were shaking. My hands clenched the broken glasses. Was this Jake? Really Jake? The same Jake I spent my whole life schooling on how to deal with girls? I wasn’t even sure anymore. But I was sure of one thing — I had to figure out how to undo this, that it all had to do with these glasses and I needed to put them back on. Or break them even more. Or… fuck, he still wasn’t backing off?!

— I’ll fucking kill you, Jake — I whispered, my eyes shifting from the glasses on the floor back to him. — If you touch me one more time — I swear I’ll fucking kill you.