{Yolanda}
Men were all creeps.
I had known this for as long as I could remember, and nearly every man I met seemed determined to prove me right.
The country's most powerful tycoons had approached me with tributes of diamonds and Italian sports cars, metaphorically kneeling before me just to catch a glimpse of what lay beneath my designer skirts.
Married men flooded my DMs. The unmarried followed right behind. Even men old enough to be my grandfather lined up without shame.
Even now, as I sat with my parents at the long dining table filled with delicacies, their male butler stole a glance at my cleavage while serving my plate.
"Yolanda, dear, aren't you eating?" my mother's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I looked up, gripping my fork and stabbing into my food. "I'm eating, Mom," I muttered before taking a bite.
My father, Adam Brisco, one of the wealthiest men in the district of Eastgate, swirled his vintage red wine before giving me a stern look.
"You are nineteen now, Yolanda."
I felt my skin crawl and my heart sink. I knew exactly where this was going.
"As our only child," he continued, "it is expected that you secure a fiancé. Someone of your class. Someone like Derrick, for instance."
"Dad!" I snapped, throwing my fork down. "I told you I don't like him! He's a jerk!"
"You don't like any men, Yolie!" my father roared, slamming his free fist onto the table. Plates rattled and cutlery clattered. "Can't you see? Brisco Enterprises needs an heir! And without a fiancé, how exactly do you expect that heir to appear, huh?"
I pushed my chair back, its legs screeching against the marble floor. "I'm going to bed!"
I stormed upstairs, clicking my tongue, anger bubbling within me. But when I reached the top of the landing, I stopped mid-step as l heard my parents talking about me downstairs.
"Dear, maybe you were too harsh on our baby girl," my mother, Irine, said softly.
"Or maybe you're too soft on her," my father snarled. "She's spoiled! All I want is a grandchild. But girls these days... who knows what they're up to? What if she..."
"Likes girls?" Mom cut in calmly. "No, dear. Our daughter isn't like that. I'm sure she likes boys. She just hasn't found the right one yet. Give her time."
I heard my father push his chair back, obviously leaving his meal half-eaten. "I hope you're right. Otherwise, I'll be forced to arrange a marriage."
With that, he walked away, and I retreated to my room.
In my room, I stripped out of my clothes and reached for my nightwear.
I stopped in front of the mirror, admiring the masterpiece that was my reflection.
My long blonde hair cascaded smoothly down my shoulders, some strands spilling over my chest. My face was a work of art, beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than anyone else in Eastgate. My jade eyes only added to my allure.
And then there was my body, the reason men never stopped gawking my way. Even beneath long dresses, the curve of my heart-shaped ass was impossible to miss, swaying softly and jiggling like jelly whenever I walked by.
My stomach was flat thanks to the weekly yoga my mother insisted on. I was the definition of healthy and perfect. And above it, my voluptuous E-cup breasts made me the envy of every woman and the obsession of every man.
The thought of a man, a fucking creep touching me was revolting. The mere thought almost made me puke.
Men were dogs. Everyone knew that.
They lived for sex. Everything they did, be it working, hustling or simply striving, it was all just a means to crawl into a woman's bed by nightfall.
Those were the reasons I had stayed single....and pure.
And yet… somewhere deep inside my heart, I had a small hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a man out there who was different. One who wouldn't approach me with hidden intentions or greedy hands. Someone who would fall for me, love and respect me completely.
Did such a man even exist?
Despite my disdain, I was no saint.
After getting dressed in my nightie, without bothering to even wear any panties, l went to my bed.
Though still a virgin, I wasn't unfamiliar with pleasure. I was the type of girl who chased pleasure on my own terms. Alone, beneath my blankets, I allowed myself what I denied others. Groping my breasts, teasing my inner thighs, biting my lip to silence myself, arching my back, l played with my pussy, teasing my clit. My eyes shut tight as I imagined gentle hands where none had ever been until l jerked myself to a shattering orgasm.
"I'm so perfect," I whispered with a dry satisfied chuckle, bringing my wet fingers to my mouth to taste my own orgasm. "I wish I could marry myself."
What I didn't know was that this wish was about to be fulfilled in the most unimaginable way.
****
Morning came with discomfort.
I woke with a stabbing pain in my neck and an annoying backache. The air was filled with a sour stench; a mix of unwashed laundry and something else I couldn't quite describe.
I opened my eyes and shrieked internally. This wasn't my hand-painted ceiling.
'Where am I?'
'This isn't my room!'
'Was I kidnapped?'
My heart pounced with unease, and it only intensified when my hand brushed against something soft beside me. I kicked the dirty covers away and let out a blood-curdling scream.
Beside me lay a headless, legless silicone torso. I gradually calmed down when I noticed it was a sex toy, not a human corpse.
That's when l realized the scream that had just come out of my throat wasn't mine. It wasn't my sweet usual voice, it was a gravelly baritone
'Oh my God. What the hell?'
I tried to scramble out of bed, but my body felt like a massive boulder. I looked down at my hands. They weren't my slender, manicured fingers anymore. They were thick, greasy, and encased in layers of fat.
I tumbled out of bed, landing hard on a floor littered with used tissues and discarded pornographic magazines. Whimpering with utter disgust at the sight, I shrieked, standing up from the dirty floor and nearly falling, but I managed to balance myself against an old wooden wardrobe by the wall of this cramped, deep shithole.
As I raised my head, my eyes met my reflection in the cracked wardrobe mirror.
My beautiful and hot reflection l saw in the mirror last night before sleeping was gone, replaced by that of a fat bastard; the very definition of the creeps I loathed.
He had a mountain of a face, a double chin that swallowed his neck, and matted black hair that looked like it had never known shampoo. A stained, yellowish undershirt strained against a massive, protruding belly.
As I stared in absolute horror, the body betrayed me further, releasing a loud, foul-smelling fart that instantly filled the cramped space.
"No... no, this is a dream!" I cried out, slapping my new, fleshy cheeks. The sting was agonizingly real.
"SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU STINKING PIG!!" a woman screamed through the paper-thin apartment walls. "Go die already!"
"I'm calling the landlady!" a male voice barked from the hallway. "I hope she kicks this loser out on his ass!"
Realizing how terrifyingly real everything was and that I was now trapped in the body of a man the world despised, I collapsed against the wall. The luxury of the Brisco mansion was gone. My beauty was gone. A lump of panic formed on my throat, and I completely lost my mind, letting out another desperate shriek.
"This is a joke, right? A dream? It can't be! How? Why? What did I do to deserve this?!" I yelled, clutching my thick head as my eyes widened with terror.
"The stinking pig has finally lost it!" the female neighbor yelled again, followed by a grunt from the man. "I'll go shut him up!"
My heart pounded violently against my ribs. As I kept screaming, the flimsy door was suddenly kicked open. A middle-aged man with a neat brown mustache that matched his combed hair stormed into the room.
Out of pure desperation, I crawled toward him across the filthy floor. "Please help me! I... I don't know what's going on! Please, I need to go back home!"
Instead of helping, the man reached down, aggressively unclasping the leather belt from his jeans. He looked down at me with a face twisted in utter disgust.
"Stop doing drugs, you imbecile!!" he roared, whipping the folded belt down on me.
WHAM!
The leather cracked against my flesh. It was the first time I had ever been hit in my entire life.
"Hey! Do you know who I am?!" I shrieked, shielding my face with these massive, unfamiliar arms. "I'm the daughter of the chairman! Don't you dare touch—"
WHAM! WHAM!!
He didn't care. The belt rained down ruthlessly, striking my back, my shoulders, and my stomach.
A torrent of confusion, blinding anger, and humiliating helplessness flooded my chest. No matter how much I yelled or struggled, this heavy, sluggish body couldn't fight back. I was completely powerless as he beat me to a literal pulp.
Once the angry neighbor had satisfied his rage, he let out a grunt, reeled his belt back in, and walked out, slamming the broken door behind him.
I curled into a miserable ball on the sticky dirty floor, covered in tears, snot, and painful bruises. My breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps.
'If I am here, in this rotting room... then who or what is waking up in my comfortable queen-sized bed back at the mansion?'
'Who has stolen my life?'
I clenched my meaty fists, ignoring the sharp pain in my knuckles. I had to get back. I had to find myself before my life was permanently ruined.
Then, I suddenly remembered something: the tea party.
It was today—an exclusive gathering of only the elite heirs and heiresses from the most powerful families in Eastgate. One designed for the wealthy to meet and interact, and probably find partners. My parents have been urging me to attend it for weeks now. How could I possibly attend looking like a battered, unwashed slob?
I squeezed my eyes shut. There was no point overthinking it. I had to attend. I would drag this miserable body across the city if I had to.
I would find a way to become myself again.
TBC