"You mentioned that my glamour tempted you," Alanna said to Mickey. "Would you like to try it on? I don't think it would fit you, but I've certainly no objection to the attempt."
Mickey's heart went from zero to pounding, body flooded with nervous energy. "'Not fit' here meaning?" Trying not to hope or even think about what to hope for.
"Your chest is broader than mine, so the positioning might be a little odd. Our skin tones are close, at least, though they don't quite match, but it's normal for breasts to look a little different. It glamours the genitals, too, but it's designed to modify my configuration."
"Meaning," and recalling one very amusing fantasy, "I'd end up with a half-ghost dick, balls and no cunt?"
"Most likely. Though it would try to give you a clitoris."
"Ha. I'll keep my pants on, then. But, the chest... I would kind of like to try?"
"Certainly. Here, my bra won't fit you, but we can use the glue..."
It fit awkwardly, the side flaps almost entirely up front, but then Mickey took his--her? Who knew?--hands away and looked down, and...
Oh. Oh, that was strange. Right and wrong all at once. It was like she could feel them, like her senses had extended all the way into the prosthetic, but also not.
"Is there magic on here, for sensation?" Mickey asked.
"Not that would let the wearer feel anything, no, though there is an effect that makes the skin texture realistic. Though I think you'd be immune to either, given your abilities."
"Yeah, I've never noticed the skin thing. It felt like silicone when I did your strip search. And..." She touched them, tentative. A little disappointing, the sharp difference between how they looked and how they felt. "...yeah, I'm still immune to that. Never thought I'd want to be fooled by glamour."
"Mm. You and I are very similar, but we're also very different, I think."
"Hm?"
"I like..." Alanna made a small, frustrated noise. "You know, I've never tried explaining this to anyone before." She shook her head. "Anyway, I like how they look under clothes, even low-cut clothes that show cleavage. That's a very comfortable sort of femme for me. But nude, they... having them look so real has become more and more disconcerting, the more I've had to wear them." She chewed her lip. "I don't know what in the worlds I'll do when I get pregnant, one day."
Curious. "Pregnant?"
"We don't grow breasts until pregnancy. They shrink after nursing--sometimes to the point of departing entirely, but sometimes not. It makes me wonder how that will feel, for me, when the time comes."
"Is there any way to get them off, if you don't like them?"
Alanna nodded. "There is. There's often scarring, though. I've a skill with scars, but only if I can kiss them, which wouldn't be an option here."
"Well, if you ever need it and we're still on speaking terms, I can try. I'm not that great with scars, but maybe you can teach me a thing or two."
"Sounds like a plan." A flicker of amusement, there. Maybe at the thought of them still being in communication, that far down the line. They spun castles in the sky together, but they both knew this wouldn't last.
Mickey concentrated on the feeling, the look. As long as she didn't touch them with her hands, as long as her only contact was through the glue, they felt... right? Maybe the sensations she was getting were from the weight as they pulled on her built-in chest. Though it almost felt like how people described ghost limbs. As if part of her had been cut off and the memory sealed, until now.
Made sure not to reach down and feel anything that would throw this off. Just concentrated on how they felt and moved as she breathed. Should she ask for a mirror? Or would seeing these in the context of the unglamoured rest of her body feel too wrong? Though maybe it'd make her look ambiguous. Ambiguous sounded good sometimes.
Not right now, though. Right now she wanted the illusion as strong as she could make it. And wanted--dammit, was this just a fetish or something? Because the thought of Alanna touching her, fucking her, while she wore this, had this...
Well, if it was a fetish, who the fuck cared? She was horny and her lover was here and her body felt complete in a strange way she could explain to no one except, perhaps, that very lover.
Or at least that was what she told herself, but nerves clogged her throat the second she tried to speak it.
"What's wrong, dear?" Alanna asked. Always astute. Particularly so, given that Mickey was pretty sure her facial expression had set into her default mask of amusement. That Alanna had begun to learn her masks... God, Mickey had let her get way too close.
But it was worth it. So, so worth it.
Mickey took Alanna's hand and guided her to touch. Gently, so Alanna could pull back if she wished. Alanna's thumb moving automatically to stroke the nipple, though of course that did nothing--and then, clever, shifting to more of a pushing motion, a bit of a jiggle. Something that cut through the prosthetic numbness and felt--god, Mickey was shaking.
Alanna drew her forward into a kiss, groping further, that astuteness fixated on Mickey's responses to touch, until the thread of this is a fake thing that isn't mine faded almost entirely out of Mickey's consciousness. She had breasts, and Alanna was touching them, and maybe if Mickey begged pretty, she'd get that firm, small cock in her ass, and everything felt right.
God, it felt like being high, being drunk, having Alanna touch her, returning the favor. Drowning in kisses and congruence, the feel eventually of gloved fingers slick inside her, of an elegantly manicured hand gripping onto her breast to hold Mickey back against Alanna. So right to just succumb, to hold on, to hear those gasps of pleasure in her ear. Alanna had no hesitance about any of it, no distaste for how Mickey looked and felt right now. Alanna's cock just as hard as any other decadent date.
Alanna fucked her and Mickey ground against a pillow, not wanting to touch directly and break the illusion. Feeling the pressure of the bed against her breasts, the way their weight moved with Alanna's thrusts. It took some glorious forever to come, until well-past when Alanna was spent, finishing Mickey with fingers, more than Mickey'd ever taken before. The orgasm shuddered through her in pulsing waves, all down her whole body, drawn out for endless moments.
Maybe it wasn't a fetish, because she didn't want them off afterwards. Didn't want them off for hours, until morning came and something clicked over in her brain and they weren't right for her anymore.
But that was okay. She'd told Alanna, hadn't she? I do change, in my head. It would feel wrong if I didn't.
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