Uncomfortable Dress

— Damn it, how the hell does this damn dress come off? — Jason muttered, cursing his own high-pitched voice, which still sounded completely foreign to him, even at that pitch. The damn fabric, so uncomfortable, pissed him off. He’d been in this body for an hour, and he had to do something to shed at least some of the femininity that had suddenly overwhelmed him.

But this tight dress! It felt like they’d wrapped him in plastic, and now it was clinging to every fold of fabric, and his breasts… God, they were everywhere! They bounced, constricted painfully by the uncomfortable bra, pressing these two pieces of uncontrollable flesh against him.

— Fucking hell, — Jason exhaled, finally yanking the cursed dress off over his head. His breasts jolted painfully, like two live sacks of sand attached to his new body. The gray bra dug into his skin, and the straps seemed to be sawing into his shoulders. He frantically tugged at the clasp, but his fingers slid over his sweaty back. “Shit, how do they do this every day?”

The full-length mirror reflected what he was desperately trying to ignore: narrow shoulders, the curves of his waist, and… gods, those breasts. Round, heavy, foreign. Jason gripped his left breast with his palm — his body responded with a strange wave of warmth. He immediately pulled his hand away, as though he’d burned himself. An hour ago, he had been in his own body — tall, with a big beer gut, a typical factory worker, rough, unfriendly, used to solving everything with force.

His gaze tore away from the mirror, though it was hard to deny that the reflection was definitely a beauty. And he probably could have, maybe, admired this appearance a little, if it weren’t for the endless discomfort of everything he now had. That reflection seemed like nothing more than a mockery, and it didn’t stir any emotions in him, no matter how feminine Lian had been — Jason saw only an awkward man trapped in a woman’s body.

— Li Mei? — a deep male voice sounded from behind.

Jason spun around sharply, tripping over the discarded dress, his breasts bouncing and reminding him of their presence. "Who the hell is this?" he thought, as he sized up the man. Standing in the doorway was an Asian man in his thirties — tall, with sharp cheekbones and a hand frozen on the door handle. His eyes slid down to the gray lingerie, narrowing.

— Wèi, nǐ zài gàn shénme? (Hey, what are you doing?) — his voice sounded harsh, almost like his boss back at the factory.

— W-what? — Jason stumbled backward, hitting a dresser. The sounds coming from the man’s mouth weren’t what he was used to, but he understood exactly what he was saying. It just hit him that he couldn’t explain to his friends, when he’d panicked and called them after ending up in this body, that he was speaking... Chinese? Yeah, he definitely knew he had been SPEAKING Chinese!

The man stepped forward, slamming the door shut. His fingers tightened around Jason’s wrist with enough force to make his bones creak.

— Nǐ wèihé tuō yīfú? (Why are you undressing? Waiting for a lover?) — he shook him, making Jason’s breasts bounce painfully. — Nǐ zài děngdài àirén ma? (Are you waiting for a lover?)

“What, a lover? Are you out of your damn mind?!” Jason jerked, about to open his mouth to sharply respond, but his body wouldn’t listen — it was too light, too weak. The man’s scent hit his nose: wood and something sharp, spicy. And then… a faster heartbeat. Not fear. Something else.

— Qǐng bié dǎrǎo wǒ! (Leave me alone!) — it escaped him, and now he noticed that the words didn’t sound like he was used to.

Jun froze. His eyes narrowed to slits.

— Nǐ jiào shénme? (What did you say?) — His fingers dug into Jason’s shoulders, pinning him to the wall. Hot breath brushed his neck. — Jīntiān nǐ hěn qíguài. (You’re acting strange today.)

Inside, everything flipped. Jason felt something strange — he wanted to pull away and tell him that somehow he’d swapped bodies with his wife, but at the same time, he felt a strong urge to not contradict the man, but rather apologize and beg for forgiveness. Struggling, gathering all his strength, he tried to push the man away, but it came out more like flirting than an actual attempt to shove him.

— Bù yào wán le, — Jun didn’t move, but he loosened his grip, then ran his hand slowly and cautiously across Jason’s stomach, stopping just below the belly button. — Háizi huì gǎnjué dào de. (The baby will feel it.)

“What the hell is he doing?!” Jason thought, as the touch felt almost… like… the baby? The sharp realization hit him: of course, what else could it be? It seemed that this man was the husband of the woman whose body Jason now inhabited. But all of this suddenly flew out of his mind at the thought of possible pregnancy.

Jason’s eyes widened, and he stared blankly at his flat stomach. No signs… But the man’s fingers remained there with frightening tenderness, stroking the area. Inside, everything clenched.

— Yùnfù bùbì dānxīn (Pregnant women shouldn’t worry), — Jun let go of him and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. — Rúguǒ nǐ hái jìde zìjǐ huái yùn le. (Tomorrow we’re going to the hospital. If you still remember that you’re pregnant.)

Jason slowly slid down the wall to the floor. Nothing mattered at that moment — not the discomfort from his breasts, not the dress still lying somewhere nearby, not even this strange man who treated him like he owed him something. Somewhere deep down, under the layer of skin and fear, pulsed a new life. His — no, HER — hands trembled as they cradled her stomach. Foreign... or not?

Chuān dé xiàng qīzǐ yīnggāi dì nàyàng. (Dress like a proper wife) — a man’s voice sounded suddenly close, as Jason’s gaze was blocked by a piece of dress falling on his head, which Jun, Li Mei’s husband, had carelessly thrown, clearly displeased with the sight of his obedient wife when he returned home, instead of the usual dinner.