Next Step, A New Bra

The first thing she was going to do was buy a properly fitted bra and find out her new size. Something with structure to keep her breasts from moving too much as she walked. A bra would also shield her breasts from rubbing against her tops. The thought was almost laughable—she hadn't worn a bra in years, had prided herself on not needing one—but that was before. Before the magician, before the alley, before her body had been rewritten by a man with a wand. Now she needed armor. She needed something to hold her together, to keep her from falling apart in public every time a breeze hit her chest.

She turned toward Nordstrom, her steps quickening, and felt her breasts bounce with each stride, the sensation rippling through her like a current. Her nipples scraped against the ribbed cotton, and she gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that made the woman ahead of her glance back. Karen forced her face into something like a smile and kept walking. The bra was the first thing. After that, she'd figure out the rest—how to live in this body, how to sleep, how to shower, how to exist when every movement was a reminder of what he'd done to her. But first, the bra. She pushed through the glass doors of Nordstrom, the air conditioning hitting her damp skin like a slap, and headed for the lingerie department, her breasts swaying heavily with every step, her nipples hard and aching against the thin cotton, the ghost of the magician's hands still warm on her skin.