Envy of ex-girlfriend (Patreon)

1

Today was just another ordinary, unremarkable day. I was speeding through morning traffic on my way to work, stuck in the usual weekday gridlock. The radio droned on about something meaningless—hosts discussing the weather forecast and vegetable prices—while I, out of boredom, had already counted every billboard along the road.

— God, I’m so sick of this… this job, this stupid traffic, — I muttered under my breath, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.

For some reason, I thought about Stephanie. We broke up nearly a year ago. Stephanie… When we met, she had just started freelancing. Back then, I thought she had potential. She was vibrant, charismatic, and could charm any client. But all that faded into the background pretty quickly.

I had to admit, though, she was one hell of a package—long red hair, big chest, a dazzling smile, and, as I later realized, a complete lack of interest in taking responsibility for anything. Steph lived life like it was a never-ending vacation. No worries about money, work, or future plans. Her biggest "talent" was knowing how to kick back. Weed, parties, random meaningless projects that she’d always start but never finish.

When we met, she was already running a website she’d inherited from some ex. Something about interior design, I think. Naturally, I was the one maintaining the site—for free, of course. And let’s not forget her spiritual growth practices, meditation retreats, and all that crap I was footing the bill for.

It all ended after nine months, when I finally got fed up with carrying her carefree lifestyle on my shoulders. But honestly? Sometimes, I envied her. She lived as though tomorrow didn’t exist. No obligations, no responsibilities. The exact opposite of my dull, monotonous life. Like now—here I was, stuck in this damn traffic, wondering what the hell I’d done with my life.

— Damn it, — I muttered louder than I intended. — I wish I could live like that, just once. Carefree and easy! — I growled, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. — Screw work, screw traffic, screw everything… Just live it up like Stephanie. Nothing ever fazed her!

When my thoughts—and the radio hosts’ babbling—were interrupted by a phone call, I was actually relieved. But the number on the screen was unfamiliar. Spam, probably. Still, curiosity won out—traffic boredom was worse. I pressed the button on the steering wheel, and a raspy, annoyed voice filled the car.

— Hey! What the hell? Why aren’t you saying anything?! — the voice barked, sounding like I owed him money.

— Uh, excuse me, I think you have the wrong number, — I said, frowning.

— Wrong number? Are you messing with me? Macy, are you always this dumb in the morning? — he growled.

— Listen, you’ve definitely got the wrong number, — I said, irritation creeping into my voice as I glanced at the unmoving line of cars ahead. — I’m not Macy, and you…

I stopped mid-sentence. A strange, pulling sensation hit my stomach, as though something was squeezing me from the inside. I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the discomfort, but instead, a wave of heat rippled through my body. My fingers on the wheel suddenly looked thinner.

— What the… — I gasped, staring at my hands. The skin was smoother, the lines more delicate. My bones seemed to shrink, and my nails grew longer right before my eyes. "Maybe I’m imagining things," I thought, while the guy on the phone kept yelling.

— Macy, what the hell are you mumbling about? Playing dumb again? Or are you just high, like always? — he barked.

— I’M NOT MACY! — I shouted back, but the voice that escaped my mouth was… higher? Softer? It wasn’t mine. It sounded like I was speaking through someone else’s throat. Panic rose as the heat spread further down my body.

My shoulders narrowed, and my chest suddenly felt heavy, as though something was swelling, pushing against my skin. I grabbed at my chest, trying to understand what was happening, and my fingers landed on something… soft. Very soft.

— No, no, no, what the hell is this?! — I gasped, feeling my shirt stretch, morphing into a tight-fitting top. Forcing myself to glance down, I saw… two massive breasts, perfectly nestled in the new top, which was clearly designed for a woman.

— Macy, have you completely lost it?! — the voice from the phone now sounded much closer, as if the guy were right next to me. I flinched, glancing at the empty passenger seat…

— What the… hell? — I croaked, my voice growing even higher and thinner. Desperately, I reached for the sun visor mirror, and the second I looked, I regretted it.

In the reflection, I didn’t see myself. Instead, I saw a young woman with vibrant red hair styled into two playful pigtails, framing a stunningly beautiful face with large eyes and full lips. The chest I had just been grappling with was undeniably there—huge, perfectly shaped, and snug in a lacey top I had definitely never owned.

I screamed—or at least I tried to. The sound that came out was a high-pitched, girlish shriek.

— Hey, hey, chill out, doll! What’s your problem? — A guy suddenly leaned over and jabbed a finger into my chest. Into those cursed, fleshy mounds that were now part of my body.

I jerked back—or tried to—but realized I was sitting in the passenger seat of some beat-up car.

— What the hell are you doing?! — I squealed, but my voice was again high and clear, with no trace of masculinity left. My hand instinctively shot up to cover my chest, which only made things worse. The sensation of my hands pressing against the soft, heavy flesh was undeniable. They were real. Huge, soft, heavy—and right there in my hands.

2

— What the hell is wrong with you, Macy? — the stranger sneered, leaning casually against the wheel of his beat-up car. Loud, trashy pop music blared from the ancient speakers, the bass rattling so hard it felt like the entire interior was vibrating.

I stared around in shock, taking in the scene: cheap stuffed animals crammed on the dashboard, empty soda bottles littering the floor, and the overpowering stench of some bargain-bin air freshener trying and failing to mask the stench of cigarettes.

From the back seat came a sharp bark, and I spun around. Sitting in a tattered, clearly custom-made dog bed was a husky. Its piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, tail wagging enthusiastically, as if it was thrilled to see me in this bizarre situation. But where the hell had this dog come from? And why was it looking at me like we’d known each other forever?

— Dakota, knock it off! — the stranger barked, shooting an annoyed glance at the dog. — You’re the last thing I need adding to my headache right now. And you, Macy, get your shit together! Stop screwing around! — He waved his hand at me like he was trying to shoo away my panic.

— Who the hell is Macy?!— I yelled, but my high, ringing voice betrayed me again. It was painfully melodic, carrying that playful tone I’d always hated in Stephanie’s voice. Panic rose in my chest as I noticed the guy didn’t even flinch at my outburst. His expression was calm, like he was used to handling my supposed “hysterics.”

— Here we go again, — he sighed heavily, slapping his palm against the steering wheel. — Why the fuck did you go for the weed again? I told you it makes you even dumber than usual!

— Weed? What the hell are you talking about?! — I shouted, clutching my head, only for my hands to tangle in the bright red strands of my hair. The silky locks fell over my shoulders, obscuring my vision as I jerked my head side to side, trying to shake them away.

My frantic movements made the guy scowl. He studied me intently, as if trying to figure out what was wrong.

— Are you seriously out of it right now? — He leaned in and snapped his fingers in front of my face. — Hello? Macy? Are you even normal?

— I… I’m not Macy! — I screamed, my gaze dropping downward. What I saw made my entire body freeze. My thighs were now wrapped in a tight, black leather skirt—so short that I could feel the hem digging into the middle of my… new thighs. And something thin was pressing uncomfortably between my buttocks. Oh, God, were those thongs?

My legs were clad in impossibly high heels, and I could feel my toes squished together in the unfamiliar, painful pressure of the shoes.

— No, no, no! — I stammered, grabbing the edges of the skirt, trying to yank it down like that would somehow fix everything. It barely budged, as if mocking me. My legs looked impossibly smooth, slender, and perfectly tanned, like I’d just walked out of a beauty salon.

The guy let out another annoyed snort, pulling a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment. He shoved one into his mouth, lighting it with an air of bored indifference.

— Macy, did you seriously hit your head or something? — he muttered through gritted teeth, exhaling smoke. His lips curled into a smug smile, and before I could react, he slapped the top of my thigh.

— Why so tense? We’re just stuck in traffic. Relax a little. You know, like you’re good at. — His eyes flicked over me, the suggestion in his gaze unmistakable.

— What? — I snapped, turning to glare at him. My chest jiggled with the motion, heavy and very, very real. The sensation nearly made me scream.

— Come on, Macy, don’t play coy, — he grinned, cracking his knuckles against the wheel. — We’re gonna be here a while, and you know I can’t focus when you’re looking this… hot.

His hand slid up my thigh, stopping just above my knee. The warmth of his rough, calloused palm sent a jolt through my entire body. I flinched, my breath catching in my throat.

— Don’t touch me! — I shrieked, trying to pull away toward the door. But the sound wasn’t a man’s angry shout—it was the terrified squeal of a girl. My hands flew to my mouth in shock. It was worse than I imagined. But what horrified me more was my body’s reaction to his touch.

Goosebumps spread across my skin, my breath quickened, and a strange heat pooled low in my stomach. It wasn’t fear—it was something much worse. Something warm, intense, and utterly foreign. I could feel my cheeks burning with shame.

— What the hell are you doing?! — I gasped, my voice trembling as I scooted further away, my breathing ragged. But every movement seemed to betray me. My hand gripped the door handle, but even that simple act made me cringe. My slender fingers, tipped with long, perfectly manicured nails, looked so alien against the peeling plastic of the door.

— Macy, you’re acting like it’s your first time! — the guy laughed hoarsely, keeping his hand on my thigh as he leaned closer. His tone was rough, almost mocking, and he nodded toward his lap. — Come on, I know you love this. How many times have we been stuck in traffic like this before?

I knew exactly what he was implying. Stephanie had loved giving me blowjobs during traffic jams. The memory made my stomach churn, and I barely stopped myself from throwing up.

But his touch was triggering something far worse. The heat spreading across my skin, the way my breath quickened—it was undeniable. This wasn’t fear. It was something else entirely.

— Stop, damn it, stop! — I shouted, flailing my arms to shove his hand away. But my thin, delicate wrists looked so weak and feminine that even my effort seemed laughably feeble.

The guy frowned, finally pulling his hand back, though irritation flickered in his eyes.

3

— Seriously, you’re acting weird as hell today, — the guy muttered, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke straight into my face. — Usually, you’re the one offering to give head when we’re stuck in traffic. What’s the matter, princess? Not in the mood today? Or is the weed still messing with your brain? — He shifted gears, not even glancing at me, as if this conversation was the most normal thing in the world.

My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear the obnoxious music blasting from the speakers. I tried to pull myself together, though it was nearly impossible with every movement reminding me of my new body. My chest pulled heavily with each breath, the skirt barely covered my thighs, and my long hair kept falling into my eyes. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus.

— If you need a pick-me-up, your “magic pill” is right there. Same as always, Macy. Just don’t overdo it. — His tone was so casual it made my skin crawl. He nodded toward the glove compartment.

My hands moved toward it on instinct, though a part of me screamed that this was a terrible idea. I opened it hesitantly, finding a cluttered mess of papers, empty gum wrappers, and a small plastic container filled with what looked suspiciously like ecstasy pills.

I picked it up with trembling hands, but before I could do anything, a loud bark from the back seat startled me so badly I dropped the container. The pills scattered across the grimy floor of the car.

— Dakota, shut the hell up! — the guy snapped, whipping his head around to glare at the dog. — Last thing I need is you starting more shit!

The husky wagged its tail energetically, as if fully enjoying the chaos. Meanwhile, I sat frozen, too shocked and mortified to move, while the guy turned his attention back to the road.

— Jesus, Macy, you’re such a goddamn klutz! — he growled, shaking his head as he cracked his knuckles. — Good thing we’re heading to Stacy’s. She’ll get you sorted out quick.

— T-to who? — I stammered, my new, delicate fingers fumbling uselessly at the pills scattered on the floor. The long, polished nails I’d never had before only made it harder to pick anything up.

— Stacy, obviously! — he grinned, tapping his fingers on the wheel in time with the blaring music. — She always knows how to pull you out of this shit. Come on, don’t be such a baby. This whole mess was your idea, after all! — He laughed, shooting me a smug look full of mockery. — Let me guess, you went overboard last night again? Or did you spring one of your “surprise challenges” on her?

“Get it together, dammit!” I screamed internally as panic tightened its grip on me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my reflection in the visor mirror again, and the sight only made it worse. Smooth, flawless skin. Luxurious red hair. Massive breasts that didn’t belong to me. This wasn’t my body—it couldn’t be real. But the sensations, the weight of my chest, the pressure of high heels, were far too vivid to ignore.

“If this is because of my wish…” a thought crossed my mind, chilling me to the core. “Then somehow, I got exactly what I asked for. A carefree life, like Stephanie’s.”

I clenched my fists, forgetting about the long nails digging into my palms, and, trying to sound confident, blurted out:

— Hey! Stop the car! — I shouted, trying to inject some authority into my high-pitched voice. — I need to get out!

The guy shot me a mocking glance.

— Seriously? You can’t even make it five minutes to Stacy’s? Quit screwing around, Macy.

— No, I’m serious! I’m gonna… I’m gonna puke if you don’t stop! Right here, right now! — I barked desperately, feeling my panic hit its breaking point.

His expression changed instantly. Clearly, the idea of cleaning up puke in his junky car was enough motivation.

— Don’t you dare fuck up my car! — he snapped, jerking the wheel hard to cut off another driver as he pulled over to the shoulder. The car screeched to a halt, and I flung the door open, bolting out as fast as I could.

Shaking, I grabbed the edge of the door for support but completely forgot about the damned heels. As soon as I stepped out, my ankle wobbled, and I nearly face-planted onto the asphalt. My legs, too long and slender to feel like my own, buckled awkwardly. My chest swung forward with the sudden motion, and I barely managed to catch myself by grabbing the car’s roof.

— Goddamn it! — I hissed, realizing how much of my thighs the ridiculously short skirt had exposed.

People on the sidewalk had started to notice. Men grinned, one of them even whistled, while a couple of women exchanged judgmental glances and whispers. The humiliation was overwhelming. Their gazes pinned me in place, reducing me to nothing but an object for their amusement. I tried to tug the skirt down, but it was hopeless—it barely moved and only seemed to draw more attention.

— Hey, Macy, quit fucking around and get back in the car! — the guy yelled from the driver’s seat, tapping impatiently on the steering wheel.

I turned to glare at him, feeling my cheeks burn with anger and shame. The people around me kept staring, and the guy’s frustration was boiling over.

“What the hell do I do now?” I thought frantically.

And then, as if on cue, my heel wobbled again, and I almost went sprawling onto the ground in front of everyone.