I thought skipping rent meant a lecture, not waking up in the passenger seat with my face still mine but the rest… definitely not. The moment I shifted, the bikini top gave a soft bounce that startled even me, my new curves reacting to every movement of the car. The landlord just smirked at the road like he hadn’t just turned me into the kind of woman guys slow their cars down to look at. And the worst part? Every tiny jiggle made heat pool in my cheeks, my hand automatically brushing hair off a shoulder that hadn’t existed an hour ago. The seatbelt pressed between my breasts, lifting them slightly with every bump, and even I couldn’t stop glancing down.

By the time we hit the highway, he kept pretending he was just “driving,” but I caught him stealing quick looks at my reflection in the window. And I… didn’t correct him. The body was borrowed, the magic accidental, but the way his eyes darkened when the car dipped and my chest followed? That felt dangerously fun. I leaned back, let the engine’s vibration travel through me, and pretended to be sleepy — but really, I was watching the way his grip tightened on the wheel. If this was my punishment for late rent, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to argue… or ask how long the spell lasted.