The locker room was thick with steam, the air heavy and oppressive. Z leaned against her locker, forehead pressed to the cool metal, hands splayed on either side. Her tank top clung to her skin, barely containing her huge tits. It revealed intricate blue roses that snaked up her arms and coiled around her neck.
She sniffed, a ragged sound that echoed in the empty room.
"Fucking hell," she whispered, voice cracking. "Why couldn't they just... understand?"
Z's shoulders shook as she fought back a sob. "Always telling me what to do. Cut your hair, they said. Put on some makeup. Act like a proper girl." She slammed a fist against the locker, the dull thud punctuating her words. "As if I was some damn doll they could dress up."
Her colorful eyes – one a vibrant blue, the other a deep amber – brimmed with tears. They spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks and dripping onto the tiled floor.
