Chapter 3: The First Test
The first thing I felt was pressure. A heavy, aching weight pressed into the mattress beneath me, and for a disoriented second my sleep-fogged brain couldn't place the sensation. Then I shifted, and the dull soreness bloomed sharp across my chest, and my eyes snapped open.
I was on my stomach. And I had breasts. The realization crashed through me all over again, that alien heaviness crushing the air from my lungs. I rolled onto my back with a grimace, wincing as the tender tissue settled. The morning light bleeding through the curtains was pale and thin, and I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, running my hands over the wrongness of my own body.
I forced myself up, planting my feet on the cold hardwood and pushing against the ache in my unfamiliar hips. The grey tank top I'd slept in rode up my stomach, and the shorts sat high on my thighs, leaving a strip of bare skin that felt perpetually exposed. I padded downstairs, each step a reminder of the thin fabric wedged between me, that constant presence I couldn't ignore no matter how I shifted my gait. The kitchen smelled of old cedar and dust. I found the coffee maker on the counter, and while the pot gurgled, I stood at the window with my arms crossed, watching the mist roll off the fields, feeling the morning air kiss my bare shoulders. Whatever came next, I had to learn to move like her. Like Sabrina. For now, I just hoped I could pass.
For now, I just hoped I could pass.