Chapter 18: Party Crashers

The mansion was a sprawling monument to excess, perched high in the hills with a panoramic view of the glittering city below. We had never actually been to a genuine college fraternity alumni party before, but as we walked through the towering wrought-iron gates, it was exactly the chaotic, unhinged spectacle we expected.

The heavy, thumping bass of a remix vibrated through the soles of my shoes. Red Solo cups littered the manicured lawns like fallen leaves. Idiots were doing backflips off a second-story balcony into a massive, glowing blue pool, cheered on by crowds of drunk, screaming undergraduates. The air was thick with the smell of spilled beer, chlorine, and the unmistakable skunky scent of weed drifting from the shadowy corners of the patios. It was wild, unfiltered chaos.

And walking right through the center of it, Meg looked like she owned the world.

I walked a half-step behind her, struggling slightly in Georgia’s strappy heels. I watched Meg navigate the crowd. The subtle but profound changes she had made to her baseline body—the handfuls of perky, perfectly shaped cleavage, the elegant waist, the flawless complexion—had completely transformed her aura. She wasn't hiding behind oversized hoodies or crossing her arms defensively anymore. She walked with her shoulders back, her emerald-green silk dress clinging perfectly to her subtle curves.

A life possessing a body that you actually designed for yourself really did breed a different kind of confidence. It was incredibly attractive. Not in the suffocating, hyper-sexualized way the bimbo edits were, but in a cute, radiant, entirely grounded way. She caught a group of guys staring at her as we walked past, and instead of shrinking away, she just offered them a cool, confident smirk.

God, she really is cool, isn't she? I thought, my male consciousness admiring my best friend in a completely new light.

"Georgia!"

A heavy arm suddenly slung around my shoulders, nearly knocking me off my borrowed heels. I stumbled, snapping out of my thoughts. A tall guy with a backward hat and a red cup spilled half his beer on the paving stones as he pulled me into a sloppy, awkward hug.

"I thought you went upstairs with Jake?" the guy slurred, stepping back and looking me up and down. His bloodshot eyes squinted in confusion at my tight black slip dress. "And why did you change? I swear you were wearing, like, a white skirt ten minutes ago."

He was too drunk to really care about the continuity error. He waved a dismissive hand and immediately turned his attention to Meg, who was standing beside me with an amused expression.

"And who's your friend?" he asked, licking his lips.

Meg smirked, clearly not used to being the center of male attention when standing next to someone who looked like Georgia Stillwell, but she was absolutely eating it up. "I'm Meg," she said smoothly.

"I'm Brad," he grinned, leaning heavily against a stone pillar. "You're gorgeous, Meg. You go to State?"

They started chatting, Brad shamelessly flirting with her. Before I could even roll my eyes, two girls walked up. I recognized them instantly. They were from our old high school—part of Georgia's inner circle of elite, terrorizing cheerleaders.

"Georgia?" one of them gasped, her eyes darting between me and Meg in sheer, unadulterated horror. "What are you doing hanging out with Meg Vance?"

The other girl sneered, looking Meg up and down with intense, bitchy judgment. "Seriously. I thought you were upstairs with Jake. Come on, let's get out of here. It smells like, you know, try-hards over here."

Brad tried to mediate, stepping between them to keep Meg's attention. "Hey, ladies, there's enough of me to go around, relax."

I felt a hot spike of annoyance. These girls had made Meg's life miserable for years. I crossed my arms, squishing Georgia's boobs together.

"Um, excuse me?" I snapped, my voice ringing out with that piercing, high-pitched valley girl whine. "Like, Meg is literally my new best friend? And you guys are being, like, totally toxic and gross right now? So why don't you just, like, take your basic, off-the-rack outfits and walk away before I, like, literally vomit."

The two girls stared at me, their mouths hanging open. They were completely confused as to why their queen bee was suddenly siding with the girl they used to mock in the locker room, but the sheer venom in my tone completely broke their ranks. They huffed, turned on their heels, and stormed off into the crowd, furious and humiliated.

Meg giggled softly, stepping closer to me. "I like the new Georgia," she whispered with a wink.

Brad, however, completely ignored the drama. He leaned back in toward Meg, getting uncomfortably close. "So, Meg, you want me to get you a drink? Or maybe I can just give you a tour of the pool house?"

I stood there, tapping Georgia's stiletto against the concrete. I couldn't get Meg's attention. She was laughing at Brad's terrible jokes, flipping her perfected brown hair over her shoulder. I felt a sharp, sudden knot of irritation forming in my chest. We had a job to do. I wanted to get this revenge over with so I could get out of this ridiculously horny female body and change back into normal Leo. Meg was wasting time.

At least, that's what I told myself.

I reached into the small clutch purse I'd grabbed from Georgia's room and pulled out Meg's developer iPhone. I opened the shell app, securely tunneling into the Master PC interface.

Let's speed this up, I thought, glaring at Brad.

I typed Brad into the search bar. Multiple options popped up. I filtered by proximity and selected the one standing exactly two feet away. His wireframe render loaded on the small screen.

I tapped the Body tab. I scrolled down to the breast slider. I didn't want to change his sex; I just wanted to completely humiliate him. I dragged the slider up, pushing his completely flat, masculine chest up to a very solid, very undeniable female C-cup. I made sure the Awareness toggle was flipped to ON.

I tapped APPLY.

I slid the phone back into my purse and smirked, crossing my arms to watch the show.

Brad was mid-sentence, leaning heavily into Meg's personal space, when his eyes suddenly went wide. He gasped, a sharp, choked sound, as his body violently expanded. Beneath his grey tee, the fabric groaned. Two heavy, plush mounds of female flesh surged outward from his ribcage. His pecs dissolved entirely into soft dough, swelling and rounding out until they bounced with the sudden, heavy weight.

Meg noticed the movement. She looked down at his chest, her jaw dropping.

"What?" Brad wheezed, his hands flying to his chest. He squeezed the heavy, unfamiliar mounds of cleavage, his fingers sinking deep into the soft, yielding meat. "I... uhhh... what the fuck?!"

"Wow," Meg said, stifling a massive laugh. "Looks like you might be allergic to the fabric of that shirt or something, Brad."

Brad was completely stunned, hyperventilating as he groped his own brand-new tits.

A guy walking past with a tray of Jell-O shots stopped dead in his tracks. He pointed at Brad and burst out laughing. "Hey! Get a load of Brad! He's wearing fake boobs to the party!"

"They're not fake!" Brad shrieked, his voice cracking with pure panic. He wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to hide the massive mounds, and literally turned and sprinted away through the crowd, knocking over a tiki torch in his desperation to escape.

Meg broke into a fit of hysterical giggles. She turned to me, punching me lightly on the arm. "Hey! He was flirting with me!"

"Yeah, well, we have a task," I said smoothly, my valley girl accent making the pragmatic statement sound utterly ridiculous. "Like, we need to focus."

Meg smirked, leaning in close. "Or maybe... you were jealous?"

"No!" I snapped, my cheeks flushing instantly. "Like, ew! We're just friends, remember?"

But as I said it, my internal male consciousness twisted with a dark, undeniable truth. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but a part of me was jealous. I didn't like seeing some sleazy frat bro hitting on her. But I couldn't let her know that. She was just a friend.

Meg's smile faded slightly. A flash of disappointment crossed her beautiful features. She cleared her throat, adjusting the strap of her emerald dress. "Right. Just friends. Okay, well, the bitchy girls said she was upstairs with a guy named Jake. Let's go."

We navigated the chaotic party, slipping past the massive line for the kegs and finding the grand sweeping staircase. The second floor was darker, lined with heavy oak doors. Drunk couples were making out in the alcoves, and the heavy bass from downstairs was slightly muffled up here.

We walked down the hall, peeking into the cracked doors.

Finally, near the end of the corridor, we found it. We peered through the half-open door of a master bedroom. Sitting on the edge of a massive, king-sized bed was the real Georgia Stillwell. She was wearing a tiny white skirt and a tight top, her blonde hair perfectly styled. She had her arms wrapped around the neck of a handsome, athletic guy… Jake… and they were aggressively making out.

Meg’s hands curled into fists at her sides. She fumed, glaring at the girl who had made her teenage years a living hell. "Okay," Meg whispered, pulling me back against the hallway wall out of sight. "Let's do this."

"Like, what first?" I asked, pulling the iPhone out of my clutch. I loaded Georgia Stillwell's profile.

Meg's eyes gleamed with a dark, brilliant malice. "Let's make her gay."

I blinked, confused. "What? Like, why?"

"Imagine it," Meg whispered excitedly. "She's literally kissing a hot guy right now, and all of a sudden she just completely loses interest in men. The disgust will hit her instantly."

"Wait, I have a better idea," I grinned, my fingers flying over the small touchscreen. "What about this?"

I opened her Mind tab. I scrolled to her Sexual Orientation settings. Instead of making her gay, I created a highly specific, customized attraction matrix. I completely zeroed out her attraction to fit, athletic, handsome men. I maxed out a brand-new, permanently locked fetish: Balding, overweight, middle-aged men with extreme dad bods.

"Watch this," I whispered. I made sure Awareness was ON. I hit APPLY. We peeked around the doorframe.

Inside the bedroom, Georgia was mid-kiss. Suddenly, she froze. Her eyes snapped wide open, a look of profound, dizzying confusion washing over her face. She pulled back from Jake, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear a sudden fog from her mind. She looked at his chiseled jaw, his thick biceps, and the muscular V-taper of his torso. But now, looking at them, she felt absolutely nothing. The spark was just... gone.

"Whoa, Georgia, what's wrong?" Jake asked, leaning back in, looking completely bewildered.

Georgia shifted awkwardly on the bed, pulling her legs up to put a little distance between them. She stared at him, tilting her head. "I... I don't know," she murmured, her voice laced with genuine bewilderment rather than disgust. "I just... I'm not feeling this anymore."

"Not feeling this?" Jake scoffed, insulted. "Are you kidding me? You practically dragged me up here."

"I know!" Georgia clutched her head, her newly wired brain fighting a terrifying, confusing battle against her own memories. She looked at his washboard abs, feeling a strange, hollow apathy, before an intrusive, highly specific desire bubbled up in her mind. "I just don't get it. I look at you and it's just... boring. Why do I suddenly wish you were softer? Someone older? With a big fat belly?" She shook her head, completely freaked out by her own thoughts. "What is wrong with me? Just... give me some space, Jake. I think I need to be alone."

"Softer?!" Jake threw his hands up, completely offended and baffled. "You're insane."

"Okay, next," Meg whispered, completely thrilled by the chaotic reality bending. "Shrink her boobs."

I went to the Body tab. I grabbed the breast slider, taking her perfect, bouncy D-cups and dragging them all the way down to an absolutely flat, concave A-cup.

I hit APPLY.

Inside the room, Georgia gasped sharply. She looked down at her chest. The tight fabric of her top instantly went completely slack as the heavy, plush fat of her breasts evaporated into thin air. Her cleavage vanished, leaving her chest as flat as a washboard.

Georgia let out a bloodcurdling, horrified scream. She grabbed her own flat chest, her eyes wide with sheer terror.

"My boobs! What happened to my boobs?!" she shrieked, backing up against the headboard.

Jake stood up from the bed, completely freaked out by her screaming. "Georgia, chill! You're acting insane!" He clearly hadn’t noticed, thank god.

"Get out!" Georgia sobbed, throwing a decorative pillow at his head while hiding her shrinking chest from him. "Get the fuck out, Jake! Don't look at me!"

Jake didn't need to be told twice. He threw his hands up in surrender and stormed out of the bedroom. Meg and I quickly darted behind a large potted plant in the hallway, pretending to be deep in conversation as Jake stormed past us, muttering curses under his breath.

Once he was gone, we crept back to the door. Georgia was sitting on the bed, hyperventilating, her hands desperately feeling her flat chest, trying to figure out if she was hallucinating.

"Now to finish the masterpiece," Meg whispered, her voice cold and absolute.

I nodded. I went back to the Body tab. I found the Weight slider. I added a solid, unforgiving forty pounds of pure, un-athletic fat, distributing it directly to her stomach, her arms, and her chin.

I clicked over to the Mind tab. I grabbed her Confidence slider and tanked it from an arrogant 9 down to a miserable, self-loathing 1. I slightly lowered her IQ—not enough to make her brain-dead, but just enough to make her a little slower, a little duller, removing her sharp, bitchy wit.

"And for the grand finale," I whispered, feeling the dark rush of playing God.

I cranked her Exhibitionism to an absolute 10. And I maxed her Libido to a 10.

I hit APPLY.

The physical shift was brutal. We watched as Georgia's petite, athletic frame rapidly softened and expanded. A thick roll of fat pushed out over the waistband of her tiny white skirt. Her arms grew flabby, and her sharp cheekbones disappeared beneath a heavy, double chin.

But the mental shift was the true torture. Because her Exhibitionism and Libido were instantly maxed out, her body immediately responded with overwhelming, desperate arousal. She wanted to expose herself. She wanted to be seen. But because her Confidence was at an absolute 1, and she had just gained forty pounds and lost her breasts, the sheer psychological dissonance completely broke her mind.

She wanted to be naked, but she hated her body too much to do it. She was trapped in a suffocating, agonizing paradox of horny self-loathing.

She burst into heavy, ugly tears, clutching her stomach rolls and rocking back and forth on the bed, her legs squeezed tightly together as her pussy wept with unfulfilled, confusing lust.

"Now," Meg said, stepping out from behind the doorframe.

Meg burst into the bedroom. I followed awkwardly behind her, my own stolen D-cups bouncing in the slip dress.

Georgia looked up, her tear-streaked, puffy face twisting in confusion as she saw us.

"Meg?" Georgia sobbed, her lowered IQ struggling to process the scene. She looked at Meg's beautiful, elegant form, and then looked at me. "And... me?! What is happening?!"

Meg walked right up to the edge of the bed, crossing her arms. She looked down at the sobbing, broken girl.

"You remember all those times you called me a butter face, Georgia?" Meg asked, her voice calm and chillingly authoritative. "You remember making sure everyone in the locker room knew exactly how flat my chest was?"

Georgia just wept, shaking her head. "Please... I don't understand... my body... it's ruined! I'm so fat! And I'm so horny, but I'm so ugly!"

"That's because we ruined it," Meg stated plainly. She gestured to me. "This isn't you, Georgia. This is Leo."

Georgia looked at me, completely bewildered.

"Leo, change back," Meg commanded.

I didn't hesitate. I pulled up my own profile on the phone. I selected the Baseline Leo preset, ensuring Awareness was flipped to ON.

I hit APPLY.

The physical crash hit me instantly.

The heavy, perfect D-cups on my chest vanished, deflating into thin air. The cinched waist expanded, the sharp curve of the athletic hips dissolving back into straight, unathletic lines. The slick, pulsing heat between my thighs pushed outward, reforming into my normal penis and balls. The blonde hair retreated into my scalp, turning back into my messy brown mop.

I sat there on the edge of the bed in Georgia Stillwell's tight black slip dress. It hung loosely off my flat, scrawny male chest, the straps slipping off my bony shoulders. I looked absolutely ridiculous.

Georgia stared at me. Her puffy, tear-streaked face twisted in a bizarre mix of absolute horror and lingering, deeply ingrained bitchiness. Her brain was fractured, struggling to comprehend that the nerdy guy she used to ignore in the hallways was sitting in her bedroom wearing her dress, having just stolen her body.

"You... you freak!" she spat, but her Confidence was at an absolute 1. The insult lacked any venom. She immediately shrank back against the headboard, wrapping her flabby arms around her thick, rolling stomach. Her maxed-out libido made her hips twitch involuntarily, slicking her thighs with arousal she couldn't stand to feel.

She broke. Completely.

"Please!" she sobbed, throwing herself forward and grabbing the edge of Meg's dress. "Please, Meg, tell him to change me back! I can't live like this! I'm nothing without my looks! Look at me, please!"

Meg stared down at the weeping, pathetic girl at her feet.

I watched Meg's face carefully. I expected to see vindictive triumph. I expected her to laugh. But instead, her perfected features softened. She looked at Georgia, and then she looked at me.

Meg realized the absolute tragedy of Georgia's words. I'm nothing without my looks.

Meg remembered the flat-chested, unremarkable wireframe render of the old her I had shown her this morning. She realized that if you stripped away the enhanced curves and the perky boobs she now possessed, Meg Vance was still smart. She was still resourceful. She still had a personality. She still had Leo as a friend. Georgia Stillwell, stripped of her physical beauty, was an empty, miserable shell. Beauty was all she had, and it was quite depressing seeing her this way. There was no need to destroy her. She was already fragile.

"Leo," Meg said softly, stepping back from the bed. "Change her body back to normal."

I blinked, surprised by her mercy, but I didn't argue. I typed Georgia into the app and loaded her baseline profile.

"Wait," Meg added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Add an extra ten pounds. Put it right on her waist. And leave her Libido at an 8."

I smirked, adjusting the sliders exactly as instructed. I hit APPLY.

Georgia gasped as the heavy fat melted away, restoring her petite frame, but leaving a distinct, noticeable layer of extra weight around her midsection. The full, bouncy cleavage she was so proud of swelled right back into existence. Her Confidence and IQ returned to their normal, arrogant levels.

She looked down at her stomach, pinching the new layer of flab. "What... what did you do?" she demanded, the bitchiness returning instantly.

"You can work off that extra ten pounds on the treadmill, Georgia," Meg said coldly, turning toward the door. "And with that libido running hot, maybe you'll actually learn how to please a guy instead of just using them for status. But remember this: if you don't change how you treat people, we know exactly how to find you. And we can do much, much worse."

Georgia swallowed hard, looking at the iPhone in my hand with sheer terror. "I... thank you. I won't say anything. I promise."

"Come on, Leo. Let's go," Meg said, walking out into the hallway.

I followed her, pulling the straps of the slip dress back up my bony shoulders.

"That wasn't what I was expecting," I admitted as we walked down the quiet, carpeted corridor.

"It wasn't what I was expecting either," Meg sighed, running a hand through her hair. "But seeing her like that... it just felt pathetic. It wasn't satisfying. It just made me realize how lucky I actually am."

"What now?" I asked.

Meg checked her phone. "I think I'm going to head home. The revenge thing kind of killed my party mood."

Suddenly, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the stairs at the end of the hall. Someone was coming up.

"Quick, Leo!" Meg hissed, her eyes going wide. "You're in a dress!"

Panic spiked in my chest. If someone saw Leo Brown wandering around a frat party in a woman's dress, it would be all over social media in ten seconds. I frantically fumbled with the iPhone, pulling up my profile. I didn't even check the sliders. I just flipped Sex to FEMALE and mashed APPLY.

The heat slammed into me. My bones shifted, my chest pushed outward, and my hips flared just as a guy rounded the corner.

It was Jake. He stopped, looking at Meg and then at me. I was back in the baseline Leonora body. The slip dress fit now, hugging my subtle curves and framing the tight, sensitive little handfuls of my chest.

"Oh... sorry," Jake muttered, looking back toward the master bedroom. "Is Georgia still in there? I think I forgot my jacket."

"No, she actually just left," Meg lied smoothly, stepping right into his line of sight. "She was feeling sick."

Jake frowned, clearly annoyed. "Figures. We've only been dating for a couple of weeks, but honestly, I'm not sure about her. She's kind of a nightmare."

"I'm Meg," she smiled, her enhanced beauty practically glowing in the dim hallway light. She gestured to me. "This is Leonora."

"Hey," I squeaked, my voice back to its normal, melodic female tone. Thank God the bimbo speech pattern was gone.

Jake looked at Meg, completely captivated by her elegant curves and piercing eyes. "I'm Jake. You guys want to grab a drink?"

Meg didn't miss a beat. She stepped closer to him, running a manicured finger down the lapel of his shirt. "Actually, Jake, I was wondering if you could show me the balcony? I heard the view from one of these guest rooms is incredible."

She was totally flirting with him. I stared at her. She was literally taking Georgia's boyfriend as the ultimate, final piece of revenge.

"I'll catch you tomorrow, Leonora," Meg said, tossing a wink over her shoulder as she took Jake's hand and led him into a spare bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

I stood alone in the hallway. I smirked at her ruthless game, but a heavy, dark knot formed in my stomach. I was jealous. I didn't want to admit it, but knowing she was in that room with him sent a bitter sting through my chest. I shook my head violently, trying to dislodge the feeling. I looked down at myself. God, I couldn't seem to stay a guy for more than a few hours today, could I? But I couldn't change back now. I definitely didn't have any male clothes to change into.

I walked down the grand staircase, the thumping bass vibrating in my chest. I needed a distraction. I needed a beer before I went home. I pushed my way through the crowded living room and grabbed a cold beer from a cooler, downing half of it in one long gulp.

"Damn girl, you sure can drink," a guy slurred, stumbling past me.

I wiped my mouth, looking around the chaotic room. The beer was already hitting my female metabolism faster than I’d expected. All these people… I felt the heavy, solid weight of the iPhone in my clutch purse. Drunk potential test subjects. I smirked.

You know what... What’s the rush? I could have a little fun here. I pulled out the phone and opened the Master PC app.

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