A Little Mix-Up (Patreon)

— Oh God... no! No-no-no, this can’t be real! — Jessica muttered aloud — or rather, thirty minutes ago, Jordan — staring down at her new breasts, hanging heavy from his— now her — chest. Her fingers brushed the soft skin, and just that single touch sent a shiver through her body. — What the hell... what is this?

— Calm down, Jessica. It’s normal at first. All our girls go through this shock.

Jordan — now Jessica — spun around at the sound of the voice. A tall man in a sharp suit stood nearby. It was Mr. Hayward, her new guardian. He looked at her with that mix of professional curiosity and cold calculation that could make anyone’s skin crawl.

— What?! Jessica?! — she shouted, but what came out was a surprisingly soft, melodic voice that didn’t sound like hers at all. — I’m not Jessica, I’m Jordan! And... and who the hell are you, anyway?! You did this to me?!

Mr. Hayward smiled slightly, adjusting his tie.

— I did... quite a few things. But first, let’s get acquainted. My name is Damian Hayward, and now, according to the documents, you are Jessica Mason. And yes, I’m responsible for your... transformation. It’s my business.

— Your business?! You... you mutilated me! — Jessica grabbed her breasts, as if trying to tear them off her body. — Change me back, right now!

— Oh no, no. That’s irreversible. The procedure you signed a contract for — it’s permanent.

— What contract? I didn’t sign anything! — she cried out in despair, trying to remember anything this stranger was talking about. But there was nothing like that. Jordan had always been a skeptic to the core and would never have signed anything without reading it carefully. — That’s impossible!

— Uh... wait, — Hayward frowned, pulling out a tablet and quickly scrolling through something on the screen. — Jordan Miller. Twenty-five years old. Sales manager. Right? Lives in the suburbs, recently missed a loan payment.

— What?! No, I’m Jordan King, twenty-eight, I’m a programmer! And I don’t have any loans! — Jessica screamed in panic, her new voice trembling with fear and confusion. — Are you out of your damn mind?!

Hayward looked up from the tablet, and for the first time, his face showed something like... confusion. He looked at Jessica again, then at the tablet, then back at her.

— King... Jordan King... — he muttered, typing something quickly on the device. — Wait... according to our records, the procedure was ordered for Jordan Miller. We got his confirmation... but... oops.

— What do you mean, “oops”?! — she barked, stepping toward him. The long yellow dress she was somehow wearing caught on her leg, and she almost tripped. Awkwardly fixing the fabric that clung to her new hips, she looked at Hayward with a silent question.

— Looks like... there’s been a little mix-up, — he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. — Just don’t panic, okay? Our clients pay a lot of money for confidentiality and quality. We just... can’t let this get out.

— What mix-up?! Turn everything back! Right now! — she demanded, her new voice sounding almost hoarse with tension. — I never asked for any of this!

— Look, Jessi, maybe I can... compensate you somehow? — he tried to smile, but it came out pitiful. — We can... what can we do? Money? Or maybe something else? I’ve got contacts...

— I’m not Jessi, and I don’t need your damn money! I need my life! My body!

— That can’t be done anymore, you understand? The procedure’s irreversible. It’s... it’s for life. We can’t bring you back.

— What do you mean, you can’t?! You were able to do this! — she was almost crying from despair. — Just do everything backwards!

— It doesn’t work like that. It’s a complex process. You’re now... you’re now a full-fledged woman. With a hormonal system, with... everything that comes with it. We can’t just “undo” the changes.

— A full-fledged woman? — she whispered, looking down at her new body. Her fingers touched the soft skin of her breasts again, and she shuddered at the mixed rush of feelings: disgust, panic, but also... a strange, confusing curiosity. — I... I’m not...

— Yes, — Hayward nodded. — Full-fledged. Including... everything that comes with it.

— What do you mean “everything that comes with it”? — she asked, dreading the answer.

— Well, you’ll find out, — he replied evasively, diving back into his tablet. — Alright, listen up. The situation is, let’s say, delicate. I can’t let you keep living as “Jessica,” but I also can’t just leave you like this. Who would you like to be? Think fast. It’s not my rule, but in five minutes I’m gone, and you’ll get something random if I don’t interfere now.

— I want to be Jordan! King! A programmer! — she shouted, almost begging.

— Not possible. The system... it won’t accept a male name. Come on, Jessica, or maybe Monica, Angela... We’ve got plenty of options!

— What do you mean “won’t accept”? You said you did all this! If you did it, then you can undo it!

— Four minutes, — Hayward ignored her question, his face turning cold again. — You have a choice: become a new woman, with a new name, a life you choose right now — or, like I said, leave it to the system. You won’t be killed, don’t worry. But I wouldn’t recommend it...

— This is blackmail! — she breathed out, glaring at him with hatred. — Forcing me to choose a new name, a new identity... and forget who I was? I’m not doing that!

— Three minutes. This isn’t blackmail, it’s an offer. Choose, Jessica. Do you want to be a normal girl living in a quiet neighborhood, working in a library? Or maybe a star in the modeling industry? Or... a waitress in a strip club? Choose while you still have a chance!

— I don’t want any of that! I want to be myself!

— Two minutes. You have to choose, — Hayward insisted. — We can, for example, give you a profession related to your past. You had programming experience, so maybe we could make you a QA game tester? That’s... kind of close to what you know. Sort of.

— Me... a QA tester? — she whispered. It was the worst possible choice. She hated testers. — Seriously?

— It’s not the worst option, — Hayward smirked. — Or maybe you want to be a personal assistant? You’ve got a nice voice, we could train it... Oh, excuse me. Forgot. But overall, you’d look great as one... you know what I mean. Or...

— No! — she snapped. — I don’t want to be anyone’s assistant!

— One minute, — said Hayward, his voice turning hard. — Time’s up, Jessica. You either choose, or I leave everything as is and the system takes you. This is not a joke.

She looked at him in despair. That cold, calculating man held her entire new, horrible life in his hands. She hated him. She hated herself for letting him do this. But what else could she do?

— Fine... fine! — she gasped, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. — I... I’ll choose. QA tester. Games. And... and... the name... make it... Sarah. Just Sarah.

— Sarah... — Hayward drawled, typing something into the tablet again. — Alright. Sarah King. Where do you live? Boyfriend, husband, kids? Hurry up, thirty seconds left.

— No one! I live alone! In... in the city! Same apartment! — she blurted out in panic. — And make my boobs smaller, if you can!

— Too late, — Hayward chuckled. — That’s already set. And it’s not in the rules anyway. Name Sarah... King... QA tester. Marital status... shit, I can’t change that. Sorry, Sarah, but you’re getting a husband. By default, the system... it generates a family.

— What do you mean, a husband?! I don’t want any husband! — she screamed, but it was already too late. Hayward pressed the final button, and the tablet screen went dark.

— Done, — he said, nodding. — You’re Sarah Brown, née King. You work as a QA tester in a small studio. Married, with one kid. You live... in another apartment, on the edge of the city. The address — well, you’ll remember it yourself.

— A kid?! A husband?! — her eyes went wide with horror. — You... you’ve got to be kidding me?!

— No, — Hayward shrugged, though his expression showed real regret. — The system decides. It likes full families. Good luck, Sarah.

He raised his hand, gave her a small wave — and the next second, vanished right before her eyes. Sarah was left standing alone in the middle of an empty parking lot, wearing a bright yellow dress, trapped in a body that wasn’t hers. She had no idea where to go, what to do. Her mind was spinning in panic: Jordan, Sarah, husband, child... It was a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from.

She took an uncertain step, then another. Her new hips swayed smoothly, her breasts bounced heavily under the dress. Every movement reminded her of the terrifying new reality she was stuck in.

‘A husband...’ — flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. The thought of some man touching her, sleeping with her... it was unbearable. And at that moment, a loud child’s voice broke the silence.

— Mommy! Mommy, I’m here!

From behind a nearby car ran a little boy, about five years old, with golden hair and big blue eyes. He ran straight toward her with his tiny arms outstretched, and his face shone with such pure, boundless love that Sarah’s breath caught in her throat.

— No... no, that’s not me... — she whispered, stepping back. But the boy was already there, wrapping his arms tightly around her legs.

— Mommy, why are you crying? — he asked, lifting those calm, innocent eyes up at her. — Did you fall? Does it hurt?

— I’m not crying, — she lied, feeling tears streaming down her cheeks. — I... I’m just really happy to see you.

She knelt down, and the boy immediately hugged her neck, pressing his small body against her new breasts. The contact sent a strange wave through her — not disgust, no, but something else. Something warm, deeply instinctive, and frighteningly real.

— Are we going home, Mommy? Daddy said you’d be back soon, and we’ll have ice cream!

— Daddy... — Sarah breathed, and it sounded like a verdict. — Your daddy... he’s waiting for us at home?

— Yeah! He baked your favorite pie! Cherry! — the boy said cheerfully, still clinging to her. — Come on, or it’ll melt!

The little one grabbed her hand, his tiny fingers curling trustingly around her palm. That simple, innocent gesture was stronger than any chain. Yet somewhere deep inside her, growing stronger with every passing second, a new instinct was awakening — one that had never belonged to Jordan. An instinct to protect this little human being, to respond to his love.

— Alright, sweetheart, — she said, her voice sounding unexpectedly gentle. — Just... do you remember where our car is?

The boy pointed a small finger toward a gray minivan parked nearby. In Sarah’s hand, there was suddenly a keychain. She pressed the button, and the car blinked its headlights in reply.

‘You bastard, Mr. Hayward... or whatever your damn name is... is this all really... real?’ she thought, walking toward the car, holding the boy’s hand — and somewhere deep inside, knowing this was only the beginning of many more discoveries yet to come...