What Goes Around Comes Around (Patreon)

Harry hated Monica with all his soul. Yes, she was his cousin, but that was probably the only thing that connected them. Everything else was endless competition, her arrogant glances through her glasses, her smirk every time she turned out to be smarter or faster than him. And now he was standing in the registry office in her body, wrapped in a snow-white dress, with pearl pins in his hair, and for the first time in his life he felt like a winner.

Huge breasts, squeezed by the dress, were almost spilling out of the neckline, and his back already ached so much that every breath echoed with a dull heaviness. The same enormous ass barely fit into the satin skirt, and Harry felt the fabric stretching over his hips with every step.

But this humiliation was his sweet victory. He had forced Monica to become a caricature of herself: the intellectual bookworm he had hated all his life now looked like she existed only to stir the lustful stares of men. And everyone around was really staring — women with judgment, men with greedy gleams in their eyes.

'I can’t even see anything down there because of these tits! It’s just unreal to live with them!' Harry thought with grim satisfaction, glancing down and swaying slightly on the heels. The pearl earrings swayed, his hands clutched at the hem of the dress in anticipation, and his eyes were fixed where Todd was already putting his signature.

'Yeah, yeah. Idiot. Your Monica is yours now. God, I can already imagine how she’ll wake up with all these new parts and then find out she married the one she hated…' Harry almost burst out laughing right at the altar, but held back, biting his painted lip.

The notary’s pen slid softly over the paper, leaving a flowery signature. The rustle of the dress, the muffled sighs of the guests, Todd’s lustful gaze — everything merged into a sweet chorus of his victory.

She would become a laughingstock. A stupid, forever horny wife, with tits and an ass that only got in the way of life. And I will return to my body and watch her squirm in this hell…

He licked his lips, involuntarily feeling the fabric of the corset dig into his ribs.

The phone with the app he had already taken home, to the place where his body was lying quietly and peacefully, its soul temporarily absent. How happy he had been when he finally found that body-swap spell. He already had that strange app on his phone, the one that allowed him to change any parameters of appearance in such a way that everyone around thought it had always been like that. He had no idea how it appeared on his phone. It was just there one day when he turned it on a month ago.

Of course, he could have just used that thing to make his body look like Apollo’s and live happily ever after. And yes, that’s exactly what he did. But Monica. Damn that Monica. She was still Monica. With her stupid smirk, with her eternal superiority, and with that disgusting gleam in her eyes every time she showed she was smarter and trickier than him.

And then he got an idea. If there was such an app, maybe it was possible to swap bodies or possess someone? The thought struck and clung to his brain so hard that he couldn’t stop anymore. Harry spent nights at his laptop, digging through forums, ancient sites with spells, half-rotten scans of books on magic. It seemed like he had tried everything, until one day… one day it finally worked.

He was in wild delight when one of those rituals worked and he possessed Monica’s body. It all happened so suddenly that at first Harry didn’t even understand. His eyes opened, and he saw his reflection in the mirror. Dark hair arranged in a neat hairstyle, those eternal glasses on the nose, and a woman’s face where intelligence and arrogance mixed together.

'It worked… God, it really worked!' the thought instantly leapt in his head like a frisky colt.

And after that, everything was like a sweet dream. He immediately pulled out the phone with the app and started “reshaping” Monica anew. Sliders moved, numbers changed, and the body instantly adjusted to his twisted fantasies. He laughed hoarsely as the breasts swelled to insane sizes, and so did the ass, so much that it was impossible to sit in a regular computer chair. He could barely believe that now all of this was his.

He had purposely made her body in such a way that every movement was torture: huge breasts, heavy and making it hard to breathe, an ass that stretched the fabric of any dress instantly, a voice so high-pitched and squeaky that even he found it disgusting. To that he added intelligence set to minimum and libido set to maximum.

— Now you’re perfect, sis, — Harry smirked, caressing his new body in the mirror. — You won’t be able to look down on me anymore.

Right after, he called Todd. The naïve fool who had chased Monica all his life, begging her to give him a chance at least once. Now his dream had come true, and “Monica” herself said she would do everything Todd had ever dreamed of — but only after the wedding. It was a real fairy tale for Todd, but for Monica it was a complete nightmare, one she would never wake up from.

— N-n-n-now you’re M-m-monica, — Todd stammered, still choking on disbelief, as he spoke while holding her hand like it was a jewel. His palm was hot and damp, he was almost trembling from the flood of emotions overwhelming him.

Harry smirked, thinking what an idiot he was, but at that moment Todd squeezed “Monica’s” hand tighter, and a hot, electric jolt shot through Harry’s whole body. He flinched so hard the pearl pins in his hair jingled, and his breasts swayed dangerously in the dress’s neckline.

'What the fuck?..' flashed through his head. He wanted to pull his hand away, but his fingers answered the squeeze on their own, softly, almost tenderly wrapping around Todd’s palm. The air turned scorching hot, and down below, between his legs, Harry felt something he never expected: sweet, wet warmth, pulsing on its own. His breathing faltered, the corset dug deeper into his ribs, his breasts bounced, tugging heavily at the fabric.

'Shit… I need to finish this fast,' he thought, staring at the papers and realizing that the text, which just a minute ago was clear, now blurred before his eyes. The letters jumped, melted together, turning into some kind of coughing pattern. He blinked once, twice, but nothing changed.

'What the hell?!' Panic throbbed in Harry’s head, while his hand only clutched Todd’s thin hand tighter, as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. He tried to yank it back, but his fingers wouldn’t obey — instead, they gently ran across the groom’s knuckles, and a sweet shiver slid down Harry’s spine.

He wanted to shout, to curse, but instead his lips stretched into a dumb smile, and a soft chuckle slipped out of his throat. His heavy breasts swayed with the movement, the dress stretched even tighter, and Harry suddenly caught himself realizing his thoughts were bogging down. Complex phrases, plans, calculations — everything was vanishing. Only dumb bliss was left in his head: he was in a dress, his tits were huge, and next to him was Todd, reeking of sweat and arousal.

— Mmm… Todd… — his lips suddenly whispered, and at that name everything inside him flared.

The corset pressed down, his breathing grew ragged, but now Harry no longer tried to resist. His body trembled with heat, between his legs the sweet madness grew stronger, and he didn’t even notice when he started rubbing his thighs together. The guests in the hall took it as the touching nerves of a bride, while Todd looked at him as if he had just received the greatest gift of his life.

'No, I… I’m Harry… I have to go back…' flickered somewhere at the bottom of his consciousness. But that thought quickly drowned in the avalanche of new sensations.

Harry could no longer concentrate. He only wanted Todd to kiss him right now, to rip the dress off, to drown inside his body. Nothing else seemed to matter.

He didn’t realize that all of this was the consequence of Monica’s soul leaving the body and already making its way into his own, since just a minute ago exactly twenty-four hours had passed since the possession. And if Harry had read the instructions more carefully instead of trying everything at random, he would have known that if you don’t leave the body you possess, then the original soul transfers into another body and continues life as the one who used the ritual. For Harry — or rather, now for Monica — this meant only one thing: that now she was destined to live the very life she had created for herself.