Win Win

Angelo slouched in his dingy apartment, the glow of his laptop casting shadows across his pitted face, his black tank top clinging to his sweaty chest. Fired from his accounting job because Mia—that brainless, busty bitch—fucked up the books and pinned it on him, he was broke and pissed. Her big tits and pouty lips had the all-male bosses eating out of her hand, while Angelo got the boot. “Fuckers,” he muttered, the room reeking of stale pizza and his own BO. But Angelo wasn’t just some chump—he was a shapeshifter, and Mia’s betrayal sparked a wicked plan. Using his powers and seething hatred, he’d transform into her, start an OnlyFans and cam service, and make bank while torching her reputation. Win-fucking-win.

Every night, Angelo fired up his laptop, the hum of the old machine mixing with the faint musk of his unwashed sheets. His viewers—horny dudes and curious creeps—flooded the chat, dropping tips for “Mia” to strip or finger herself. Angelo smirked, his eyes lighting up as he focused on her image in his mind—long black hair, massive rack, tight ass. He tugged his short hair, and his body shimmered, bones cracking, skin stretching. In seconds, he was Mia from the neck down, his male head replaced by her flawless face, brown eyes, and full lips. His tank top strained over her perky tits, nipples poking through like little sluts, and his boxers morphed into a lacy thong, barely covering her shaved pussy. The air shifted, now thick with her sweet, musky scent, like candy and sex.

Leaning forward, Angelo displayed Mia’s cleavage, those heavy breasts spilling out, jiggling with every breath. “Like what you see, boys?” he purred in her sultry voice, the chat exploding with heart-eyes and cash. He ran his hands over her curves, squeezing her tits, pinching her nipples until they ached, a wet heat blooming in her pussy. The thong was soaked, sticking to her lips, and he spread his legs, giving the camera a peek at the pink slit. “Who wants me to play?” he teased, slipping a finger inside, the slick squelch drowned out by the laptop’s fan. His viewers went wild, tips pouring in—$50, $100, $200—while Angelo moaned, her pussy clenching, his male mind reveling in the cash and revenge.

Mia, oblivious, was getting heat from her world. Her church-going mom called, sobbing, “Why’re you doing porn, honey?” Her best friend texted, “Girl, OnlyFans? Really?” Mia, clueless, swore it wasn’t her, but no one bought it—Angelo’s shapeshifting was too perfect, her face and body unmistakable on the streams. He’d film for hours, transforming back to his sweaty, tank-topped self only when the cash slowed. His bank account swelled, enough to cover rent, bills, and a new gaming PC, while Mia’s life crumbled. He’d seen her at the grocery store once, face red from arguing with a cousin about her “side hustle.” Angelo just grinned, his cock twitching at the chaos he’d sown.

Tonight, he leaned closer to the webcam, Mia’s tits heaving, a dildo in hand. “Ready for a real show?” he asked, her voice dripping honey. The chat roared, money flooding in. Angelo slid the toy into her pussy, gasping as it stretched her, the room smelling of sex and triumph. Mia’s name was mud, and his wallet was fat—revenge never felt so fucking good.