Happy B'day Tsevi!
Chapter 2 – Show Time
Fake Claire leant outwards the shower box, dripping wet and mother naked.
The first shower in his sister's body was finally over. He could hardly believe he'd survived it. It'd almost driven him insane!
With his eyes still clenched both for the embarrassment and the water rivulets dripping down his forehead, real Chris outstretched one of those lean arms he now got to grasp the big towel by the sink cabinet – since Claire's red bathrobe was nowhere to be found.
His thin hand searched and searched but only grasped air.
He leant even more onward but, perhaps in account of the slippery shower tray or rather it was the little familiarity he had with his new body, he lastly stumbled awkwardly.
There it happened.
Striving to regain balance, real Chris had to open his eyes and grip on anything could save him from hitting the floor face forward. The only grip he got was the dazing astonishment to his brain as his look fell onto the big mirror. He didn't hit the floor, yet the view hit him harder than a thousand bombs.
Unfortunately for him, the mirror was only partially steamy, only in the upper side. Therefore, his slender frame was completely reflected.
Nude.
Framed in the mirror like a Venus in a painting, there was Claire and she was nude. She stood right in front of him, with damp auburn hair, damp skin and she was wholly exposed in all her beauty. Real Chris couldn't help but stare, suddenly unable to move. She robbed him of every ounce of breath in his tiny lungs.
He'd always known Claire was a beautiful girl but he'd only considered it as a reason to be on the look-out for boys in the vain attempt to preserve her from heartbreaks and unworthy dicks (more or less literally). But now… her beauty hit him differently. For the first time, he saw her as a woman. From head to toe – and back.
She was all curves.
Sweet, gentle curves everywhere, all in the right places. Obviously, the first spot to catch his attention was the breasts. So young yet so full and feminine. Chris indulged on those rosy nipples for a while before his look trailed down her flat belly, eager, irresistibly eager to know and see more. The steamy air allowed him to forget to blink, so he missed nothing of that perfect body who just seemed to be there only for his entertainment. The vision mixed with the tactile memory of the smoothness of her skin under his fingertips as he washed himself until a few moments prior. And when his look naturally reached that one spot he hadn't dared to directly touch not even for hygiene reasons, his fingers suddenly tickled as if on fire, blaming him for forbidding them to savour such divine place.
Chris watched it all.
He watched every inch of skin, devouring it all in the turn of a bunch of seconds, eyes wandering up and down the naked figure in quick motions. When his eyes met Claire's in the mirror though, Chris couldn't help but gasp and turn around violently.
His dense, wet tendrils lashed his face and stuck to his blushing cheeks.
Chris somehow got that damn towel and wrapped it around his shivering body. Maybe it was for the damp skin, maybe it was the heat within contrasting with the chillness around, but a shiver, delightful and terrible at once, crossed his limbs.
Real Chris let out a sigh, shivering again as he heard Claire sigh along.
What was that look on Claire's face about? He'd certainly never seen it before.
And what was that warm feeling rising from his lower parts? Although he hadn't experienced it since the body switch and since he was no dummy, he could easily guess what it was about.
"It turned you on, isn't it?" I snicker as I make my entrance on stage leisurely sitting on the cabinet like a pin-up doll posing in vintage pictures: cross-legged, head-scarfed head slightly reclined, flaming red lipstick smile and matching fancy sunglasses on. "Hello there, handsome." I purr and hook the elegant cigarette holder between my teeth, Holly Golightly style. Wait, what?! Where does it come from? I don't even smoke! It may suit the overall vintage vibe but I hate it so I toss it away. And, hell, I should totally avoid spreading tobacco smell around when Chris hasn't had a single puff in two days! Whatever. Where have I left off? Oh yeah, the feline pose. As I rest a hand on the marble countertop for leverage, I find out it isn't less steamy than the mirror behind me. I can only eyeroll at the funny damp stain on my butt now. Cringe. Damn, do I have to always be this awkward even in fantasy world? Averting a natural facepalm, I wipe the hand on my thigh and then I pull the shades down my nose trying to regain that cool, feminine attitude of a few moments prior. A certain fragrance hits my nostrils and I sniff it deeply. "Mmm... what is it? Like strawberry? It smells hella good! Okay, I crave strawberries now."
Unconcerned by my problems, real Chris is standing right in front of me, turned away, gripping the towel tight as he struggles to take a grip on himself apparently. I can't see his face, but it doesn't take a rocket genius to guess he's blushing as hell.
"Shut up!" He commands.
I hop off the cabinet and stalk around him until we face each other. After that last time with fake Chris, it's good to interact with someone about my same size. There's a bare-naked female body in front of me and it still feels less uncomfortable than being under the scrutiny of those deep, impossible, dark eyes of fake Chris's - especially when there's that volcanic girl nestling behind.
I eventually take off my shades and hook them on my shirt. I was right, he's blushing. "So, we finally meet." I say just to break the ice. "Nice to meet you, Chris. I'm a Fangirl." I reach out but he doesn't return my attempt in shaking hands. I like to think it's because he doesn't want to risk the towel falling off.
He fiddles with the fabric, so badly draped around his dainty frame, trying to arrange a better cover to his nudities. Drops of water roll down his damp shoulders and dripping hair and he keeps looking away from me. He doesn't care to finally look at the mastermind behind his mishaps who tries hard to become friends with him and properly introduce herself.
"Leave me alone." Chris mutters, almost begs. His girlish voice shakes a little. He's clearly in keen discomfort and this, somehow, makes me uncomfortable as well. Fucking empathy!
"There," I say as I move aside a few wet tendrils stuck onto his face. "Feeling better now?"
"Hell no." He grumbles with that light, crystalline, quivering voice of a teen girl he has.
"You take a few moments to blow off some steam." I try to cheer him up. "Look, I even open the window… there you go! Cool morning air!"
As I breathe in the crispy Raccoon City air and mentally compare it with my hometown's, real Chris still finds it difficult to move. He actually hasn't moved since he wrapped himself into the towel. I start to suspect the only steam blowing off it's the fruity one impregnating the air. I wonder, is he still aroused?
"Chris…" I whisper as concern grows in me. "Chris don't be scared by what you felt." I mean, dude, it's an incestfield story! Everyone knows it's gonna happen at some point and you're only at the first shower! C'mon!
"I'm not scared!" He forcefully retorts. "I'm rather… I'm… I... I feel so ashamed."
I lean with my back propped against the windowsill, fold my arms across my chest and duck my head aside. "Are you ashamed because she makes you hot?" I won't pull my phone out right now, so I have to store in my mind as much as I can of what he'll say from now on.
"I'm ashamed because I shouldn't have looked! Not in the way I did!" Real Chris animatedly replies.
"Listen sweetie, it's natural that your sex-drive's been tickled when you saw what you saw. You're young aft-"
"She's my sister!" He states, casting a forbidding side glance at me and leaving no room for exceptions of any sort. "That… This is not for me to see!" He says, nodding at the beautiful body below his red-haired head, cautiously hidden behind the white cotton cloth.
"You've got a point on that, I gotta admit it." I concede. After a little moment of thought, I snort, "are you implying that there's in the world someone for whom that thing is actually meant to be seen, then?" I ask, pointing a finger at his female figure.
Chris glares at me like a bull to a torero in the middle of a corrida and I expect him to grow a pair of horns at any moment now and give a whole new meaning to the word horny for the purposes of this story.
"Not in the least." He snarls. His brotherly jealousy gets a maniac quality to it as he speaks it with that girlish voice he still can't master to graduate. It's so twisted I can only pine for it.
I exhale a ridiculing short laugh. "Yeah, I supposed so, you over-protective, slightly sexist, everyone's favourite, older brother!"
His anger doesn't last, strangely, even though I just insulted him on some reportedly soft spots of his. He seems to sadden immediately as though he hasn't paid any attention to my words.
"It's not fair towards her." He mutters. "She wouldn't want me to see her like this."
"She is you now." I point out, quirking a brow. Yeah, she is him now! Her body is no more hers! It's his! Oh, I feel so clever.
Real Chris finally seems to shake from his paralysis and bucks to the toilet, angrily hurls the lid downwards and sits onto the bowl. His movements still look messy, as though he always puts too much energy and has to constantly restrain himself.
"I don't want to be her." He mutters, his new round blue eyes dropping.
"And she doesn't want to be you, but here we are, witnessing a boy thirsting over a naked girl from the inside out!" Cocky of me to openly challenge his renowned temper with such bold affirmations! But I need to shake him somehow. The show must go on!
"Easy for you to talk!" He sputters, piercing me with those enchanting blue spheres. He hasn't forgiven me overtly accusing him of perversion, I suppose. Poor guy, maybe he truly hates that he looked. Yeah, he most likely does. After all, he's been like this for so little time, it's too early for him to capitulate, isn't it? We'll see what happens. "You judge us from your safe point of view but I'd like to see you walking in our shoes!"
"That's actually about the size of it all." I scoff, theatrically waving a hand in the air. "Walking in someone else's shoes. It's even in the title, you know?"
"I don't give a fuck about stupid titles!" He snarls. Oh, yeah, there he is. Chris Redfield losing it. Damn, I love it! Yeah, boy, go harsh on me! "Honestly, you can take all your fancy titles and fucking shove 'em all up your butt!"
I try to suppress the urge to spit out all the dirty jokes popping up in my head right now and, instead, focus on his reaction. Fake Claire looks good even when she's pissed off! Lucky ass.
"I wanna see you living in your brother's body! I'm sure you'd not be that happy anymore!"
"I'd be grossed out as fuck, Chris." And I'd certainly wouldn't follow in your footsteps. Ew. Let alone have twisted fantasies about- EWWWW! I reckon disgust must be pretty damn evident all over my face as the little grin of who has just made a point creases his cheeks. Fun fact, I am so grossed out by the mere idea of incest, yet I don't mind others doing it, rather I find it appealing. Is it hypocrisy or what?
"Then why us?!" He urges.
"Why not?" I lamely reply while I'm still busy with casting off all the hair-rising, fucked-up horrors he summoned with his last question.
"You fucking... Bitch!" He roars.
The morning air is undoubtedly chill, but the air inside the bathroom is heating up incredibly. I certainly did get him pissed off. We totally started off on the wrong foot. I hope I'll get the chance to make up to him sooner or later. "Alright, you win, big guy. I apologise. But please, don't call me that. Call me Fangirl instead." Or I swear I'll show you how much of a synonym fangirl and bitch can be.
"Give me my life back!"
"Isn't it fun? Claire asked the same thing." I snicker. "Imagine if she didn't! Someone would remain with zero life to carry. And I'd hate to kill anyone off."
Real Chris gives me a dirty look. I reckon that was lame, other than a very poor wording. Before he can come up with any retort – or worst, threat – I peel off the windowsill and toddle up to the bathroom door. Leaving is the best option in cases of such.
"Have fun with the lingerie." I evilly deadpan before slamming the door behind my back.