Girl on the screen

Part 1

— 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.

Part 2

— "Shit, my...!" — flashed through my mind as panic suddenly exploded inside me. I dropped my phone, and it hit the floor with a dull thud while I was already frantically yanking down the waistband of my skirt, searching for... nothing.

Smooth, warm skin. Soft, completely flat. No familiar weight, no... dick. Instead, just a delicate slit, so sensitive it felt obscene. I carefully ran my fingers lower, and it was like a jolt of electricity shot through me — so sharp, so... disturbingly unfamiliar that I hissed through my teeth.

— Holy shit... — I growled, but that voice...

High. Soft. And the rasp didn’t make it masculine — it was a woman's voice.

And then someone touched my shoulder.

— Fran, what are you doing? — came a familiar voice.

I jerked my head up so fast it almost hurt.

Kristina. My girlfriend.

Her eyes were wide, surprised — but not the kind of shock you'd expect if someone had just swapped sexes. No, she was looking at me like I was out of my damn mind.

— Why’d you drop your phone on the floor? And... Francine… — her gaze drifted downward, and with a jolt of horror, I realized my right hand was still between my legs while my left... was still squeezing my chest.

— Fuck! — I yanked both hands away, clutching the waistband of my skirt instead, but then... her words echoed back.

"Wait, what?! Francine?"

— What? — I whispered, heart pounding harder with each second.

Kristina frowned.

— At least go into a stall and lock it if you wanted to...— she huffed, but her voice sounded... nervous. — I mean, I get it, stress and all, but seriously? Right here?

— What?.. — I blinked, ripping my hands back like I’d been burned. — Wait… what did you just call me? — My voice trembled again, so damn high, laced with panic.

Kristina’s frown deepened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

— Francine… Hey, are you okay? — Her eyes narrowed. — Shit, you’re acting weird...

— No, no, hold on, what do you mean "Francine"? My name’s Francis! I’m your boyfriend! — I blurted out, panic surging all over again.

Kristina blinked. Then again. And then... she snorted.

— Boyfriend? Francine, have you been binge-watching movies or something? — Her lips twitched, and she barely held back a laugh. — Is this... is this some kind of prank? Where are the cameras?

— I'm not "Francine"! — My voice cracked again, way too high, with that damn raspy edge, and I could feel my face burning. — We’ve been dating for two years, you... you’re my girlfriend!

Kristina wasn’t just blinking now — she was straight up gaping, like I’d just claimed the Earth was flat. Her eyes slowly trailed down my body — the stupid white tank top, the obvious breasts pressing against the fabric, the hands still clutching the hem of my skirt in a death grip.

And then... she burst out laughing.

— Holy shit… you’re serious? — She doubled over, covering her mouth with one hand, trying — and failing — to hold back a fit of hysterics. — God, Francine, I knew you were weird sometimes, but... this? This is next level! What, you trying to go viral on TikTok or something?

— WHAT?! — I hissed, stepping back, but the damn tight skirt caught on my thigh, nearly making me stumble.

— Okay, stop, — Kristina took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but her eyes were still sparkling with laughter. — Seriously, you’re in the women’s restroom. In a skirt. And a tank top where, by the way, your tits are about to spill out. And you’re calling yourself my boyfriend? Francine, this is peak comedy.

Part 3

— What the fuck do you mean, "Francine"? — I clenched my fists, feeling my hair tickling my neck and my chest pressing uncomfortably with each nervous breath.

She suddenly tilted her head again.

— Wait, don’t tell me this is your way of bailing on the double date? — Kristina squinted, smirking slyly, but there was still doubt in her eyes. — Alex and your boyfriend are probably already wondering where the hell we are.

— My... what? — I blinked, my thoughts tangling. Her words bounced off my brain like she was speaking a foreign language. — What boyfriend?

— Fran, seriously! — Kristina rolled her eyes like I was being impossibly dense. — Mike. Your Mike. Your boyfriend, the one you’ve been dating for two years? — Her gaze swept over me again, slower this time, a touch more cautious. — Are you... okay?

I gasped, words caught in my throat. Mike? My best friend? My... boyfriend? That was... complete bullshit! But the way she said it, so calm, so casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world...

— No, wait... — I shook my head, trying to think straight, but the damn long hair brushed my neck again. — You... you’re messing with me, right? This... this has to be some kind of prank?

Kristina let out a sharp sigh, then suddenly grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the exit.

— Fran, come on! If we don’t get out there, the guys will think we straight-up ditched them!

I barely kept up with her pace, feeling my chest bounce with every step. The bra supported them, sure, but not enough. Every movement sent a dull, rhythmic pulse through me, like my own body was making sure I didn’t forget what had changed.

The skirt hugged my hips tightly, and only now did I realize just how short it was. The fabric had ridden up a couple of centimeters the moment I sped up, and I could clearly feel the thin straps of a thong digging into my skin. Awkward as hell. And weirdly... distracting.

— Hey, slow down — I muttered, trying to pull my wrist free, but my voice betrayed me again. Too high. Too... feminine.

We stumbled into the hallway. A few guys nearby turned to look, and I could feel their eyes on me.

They were... staring. At me. My face. My chest. My legs.

I felt their gazes like physical touches, hot and lingering.

My face burned, and I yanked my wrist free.

— Let go!

Kristina stopped, blinking at me in surprise.

— Oh, come on, Francine... — Her voice softened, but there was a twinge of hurt in it now. — What’s with you? You’re the one who offered to help me with Alex, and now you’re just bailing last minute?

I bit my lip, heart clenching at the sound of her voice. My chest shifted again, a sharp, uncomfortable reminder, while the thin straps of the thong dug in deeper with every step.

Part 4

— I... — I started, but my voice betrayed me, trembling too high, too soft.

Kristina gave me a worried look.

— If you changed your mind, just say so. But please, don’t act like this...

I didn’t get the chance to respond — my heart plummeted as I saw him.

Mike.

He stood by the entrance, a little distance away, clearly waiting for us. His gaze shifted toward me, and I almost choked on the wave of panic that crashed over me. God, he... he was looking at me like everything was normal. Like this... was real.

— Oh, there you are, — he said calmly, a soft smile touching the corners of his lips.

I froze, searching for words, thoughts, anything...

But Mike was already walking closer, and before I could react, his hand slid toward mine, gently wrapping around my fingers.

— Shall we?

Warmth. Steady. His confidence.

I felt my fingers practically melt into his palm. I jerked back instinctively, trying to pull my hand away, but Mike held on, firm yet gentle. His fingers clasped mine, and that warm, steady touch sent a strange shiver through me. My heart pounded wildly beneath the tight press of my bra, every pulse of panic only amplifying this maddening, unbearable sensitivity.

— Hey, Fran, it’s all good, — Kristina chuckled, winking at me like this was just some casual thing. — Relax already. Where’s Alex?

Mike turned toward her, but his grip on my hand didn’t loosen — keeping me close.

— Oh, yeah, someone called him. He stepped out for a minute but said he’d be right back.

Then his gaze returned to me. And... damn it, why did he have to look at me like that?

So soft. So gentle.

How could he even look at me like this?

— You okay, sweetheart? — His voice was so calm, so caring it made something twist painfully inside me.

"Sweetheart? What the fuck?! Seriously?!"

The words screamed in my head, and my chest tightened — not physically, but from sheer panic.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words died in my throat.

I could feel his fingers — warm, strong, enveloping mine like I really... was his girlfriend.

— I... uh... — My tongue felt useless, but before I could gather myself, Mike leaned in, so effortlessly casual, and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

I flinched.

It hit me like a shockwave, making my knees almost buckle as I snapped my head toward him, eyes wide, breath caught in my chest.

I stood there, mouth open, face burning all the way to my ears, while Mike just... stayed calm. Holding my hand. Like this was completely normal.

Kristina snorted, covering her mouth with her hand as she stifled a laugh.

— Wow, Francine, you’re blushing like some lovestruck schoolgirl! — Her eyes sparkled with amusement. — Mike, take it easy. She’s about to melt into a puddle over here.

Mike just smiled slightly, intertwining his fingers even tighter with mine.

— Come on. Alex is probably wondering where we are.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded more out of reflex than understanding, my heart pounding as I let Mik