Feels good to be a bitch!

“Hey sexy, you need a lift?”

Nick frowned as he shielded the sun from his eyes to see the source of the noise: Some middle aged man pulling up in a sports car, clearly compensating for something by the look of his out of date clothes and greying, dyed a bit too black for anyone to mistake it for his natural color hair.

“Really? That’s what you’re approaching me with? God, as if!” He scoffed back, smiling when he noticed his words had hit their mark. “Look at your dusty ass outfit and then look at me, did you really think you had a chance? You’re not fooling anyone with the hair, by the way!”

He knew he wasn’t supposed to think it, but god, it felt good being a bitch. Seeing guys’ faces fall as they got shot down, rubbing the fact that he was out of their league in their faces, he knew it was wrong but the rush it gave him doing it ran right through his body like fireworks every time. It was one of many personality traits he now struggled with since the Role Exchanger made him almost unrecognizable a few months ago.

Before the Role Exchanger had hit, he had been an event photographer - He had actually been on the job at a wedding when it happened, lining up the bridesmaids for some posed photos before the ceremony. The physical changes he had noticed almost instantaneously: It was hard not to, after all. In a matter of seconds his masculinity had been stripped away from him, lost in the shuffle of traits as he quickly gained one bridesmaid’s gender, another’s long, blonde hair, the feminine figure and full breasts from a woman who was practically bursting out of her bridesmaid’s dress, and the sultry, girlish eyes and facial features from the bride’s sister.

The mental changes had taken him a bit longer to recognize, although looking back, the signs had been there from the moment the initial panic of his changes had calmed down and the intrusive thoughts began running through his mind as he scanned through the room, his eyes fixing on the unchanged bride and groom who had just entered the chaos of what was left of their wedding ceremony.

“Oh my god, is she wearing last season’s Dior? I have got to get a dress like that when I get married, it shows off her boobs so well..”

“Not to be a bitch, but he’s kind of ugly in that suit, She definitely could have done better than him.”

“I think I might be hotter than Kelsey now, thank God I got Ashley’s features instead of Michelle’s, she always did have the best bone structure…”

It was like a faucet he just couldn’t turn off. He hadn’t had a thought like that in his life half an hour ago, but now he was recognizing brands and tearing people’s style to shreds in his head like it was second nature. Even scarier, every comment came with an almost equal rush of satisfaction. 

He had only worked it out after getting back to his apartment hours later (after thoroughly criticizing his interior design skills and wardrobe and promising himself he’d do a total overhaul the next day). Assuming he had gotten everything from the bridesmaids, there were two candidates to blame for his recent personality change:

First, his new mean streak and catty attitude. Most likely from Michelle, clearly the “mean girl” of the group by the snippy comments she’d been making the whole night leading up to the ceremony. Next, he had probably gotten his new sense of materialism from the maid of honor, who had very conspicuously worked worked a set of Louboutin heels and a designer handbag inter her bridesmaid’s outfit. Not only did he find himself meticulously keeping up with new brand releases and style trends, followed by an almost laserlike focus on meeting her own personal hair, makeup, and grooming standards the second he even thought about going out for the night. In fact, he’d been running through his savings the past few weeks just trying to build up a satisfyingly full wardrobe and makeup kit.

Combined? it gave him all the ammo he needed to immediately pick apart someone’s self confidence with a single catty comment 

All of which brought him out to the front of his apartment like he did every saturday, waiting for the Uber that would take him to the club tonight to let off some steam in more ways than one. Did he try to be a good person most of the time? Sure. He even used his new talents responsibly at work by dialing down the meanness until his comments sounded more like “constructive suggestions.” But it also felt good to just let loose and let himself be a bitch in peace for a while. After all, some of these guys approaching him deserved to be taken down a peg or two!