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Chapter 9
by
Cantalope
Which sibling do we follow?
Morgan, the flat-chested
Morgan sighed and left them to their bickering. They'd adjust, eventually. She didn't really feel justified complaining about her loss, it was just so... trifling in comparison. She'd had great breasts, sure, but they weren't necessary for her to function... or get off. She wrinkled her nose, realizing there was probably more to Martin's anger than just the physical changes. If anything, her reduced size made her chest hypersensitive, like all the nerves had been concentrated. Her tiny nipples seemed to harden at the lightest breeze, warm or cool, and she was almost glad she didn't have to wear clothes. The material rubbing on her chest would drive her nuts.
She stopped in front of the mirror, staring mournfully at her utterly level chest. She pushed her arms together in a way that would have accentuated her assets from a week ago and make a deep valley to catch the eye. Nothing. It almost seemed impossible just how nothing there was. She was pretty sure any man with even a hint pectorals could show more cleavage than she could. Sighing, she turned and found her mother watching her from the kitchen.
"I'm sorry Morgan, you know it's just-"
"Temporary. Yeah, I know Mom. Don't worry about it." She tried to smile confidently but couldn't quite muster the energy. It mostly just looked sad.
She turned to the front door, "I'm heading out for a bit ok?"
"Where are you going? There's a storm coming, you'll catch your death of cold!"
"Just getting some air mom, I'll be right back."
Her mom was right, the breeze was strong and the sky was dark, but she had to get out of the house for a bit. Be alone with her thoughts and process. She walked down to the park, which fortunately was empty thanks to the weather. She'd have to keep an eye on the sky or she'd get soaked. Not that it mattered much, she could just towel off... speaking of which. She frowned at the bench she'd been about to sit on. She'd forgotten her towel. Damn.
She sighed and sat anyway, shivering at the cold wood's touch and shifting to cushion her nethers with as much of her round butt as possible. At least she still had that going for her.
What's next?
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The Sacrifices We Made
A story about losing rights and parts of yourself
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