Heels

Revenge is a dish best served in heels. 😜

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  “What do you mean you don’t want to wear the heels?” Pete shouted. “I bought ‘em, and they were fucking expensive. I almost maxed out my credit card.”

“I know, sweetie, but they’re so uncomfortable,” Vanessa protested. 

“Uncomfortable? They’re only shoes. How uncomfortable can they be, for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey, you have no idea what it’s like to wear these things,” Vanessa said.

“I don’t care. Wear the shoes or you owe me a thousand bucks,” Peter said. “Oh, and I know how you could pay me back. How about you work the corner for one night in those heels. Hell, I bet you’d make a profit.”

Vanessa’s face twisted in rage. “You bastard! That’s it, we’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter laughed. “That’s what you said last time—and the time before!”

Vanessa packed up her things and stormed out of their little apartment. At first, Pete was too pissed to even care. Then, when he calmed down, he got drunk, watch porn, and go to sleep; those things always made him feel better.

That night, he felt a sting in his neck and someone whispered in his ear: “Sleep well, sweetie. When you wake up, you’ll be a whole new person.”

Peter woke up God knows how long later, and in a place that looked like a cross between a construction site and a hospital. He felt strange, and almost every inch of his body was in pain. Looking down at his body, he was first flabbergasted, then horrified: He had tits—and hips—and…and…

Peter reached into the little thong and shrieked in a high-pitched voice. 

His penis still existed—kinda. Whoever was responsible for his surgical alterative had carved off at least five inches. His pride and joy had become barely more than a nub sticking from his shaven crotch. 

After Peter was finished bawling his eyes out, he looked around and found a wooden chest on the floor. There was an envelope stuck to the outside. Opening it up, he found a note:

Hello, sweetie. You’ve been asleep for a long, long time. I hope you like the changes the hormones and surgeries inflicted on your body. Don’t worry. The changes are reversible. But it’ll cost a hell of a lot of money. How will you earn it? Hm. I have an idea. Open the box. Your girlfriend, Diana

Inside the box was a black dress, and those damn high heels he’d bought her.

Having no other option, Peter put on the dress—although it was a little too tight for his breasts. Staring down at the pathetic remnant of his manhood, he only hoped Diana was telling the truth about everything being reversible.