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The moment her head touches your neck, you feel the connection snap into place—and just like that, you lose all sensation of your own body. One moment you can feel everything, and the next -- it just disappears. You try to flex your hand, and nothing happens.

For your girlfriend, however, it's a different story. You watch in stunned silence as she stretches her (your?) arms above her head with a satisfied groan. The muscles in your arms and chest flex as she rolls her shoulders, testing the new weight of your broader frame.

"Wow," she murmurs, her voice still hers but deeper now, as if you'd cut off halfway through your voice box. She runs her hands down your chest, over the planes of your stomach, her fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans. "You really do have a nice body... and you were excited down here! Wow!"

You try to protest as your girlfriend rubs the outline of her erection, but all you can do is watch as she smirks down at you—you feel totally powerless!

Meanwhile, her old body has collapsed to the concrete floor like a marionette with its strings cut. The sundress pools around her limp form, one arm splayed awkwardly, her knee slightly scuffed.

"Oops," your girlfriend says, not sounding sorry at all. She pushes her old body with your foot, rolling it onto its back. The sight is bizarre—her headless form, the smooth stump of her neck lulls about, the sundress riding up her thighs.

She crouches down, running your hands over her old curves with clinical fascination. "Huh. It’s weird seeing myself like this." Her fingers brush over the swell of her own breast and pinch at the fabric of the sundress. "I should’ve worn something cuter if I knew you’d be looking."

You try to glare, but it’s hard to be intimidating as just a head.

She laughs—your laugh, but lighter, more playful—and stands, stretching again before sauntering over to you. "Alright, your turn."

Before you can object, she scoops up your head with one hand and slams it against her body's neck stump.

The moment skin touches skin, warmth floods through you—a tingling, liquid sensation as flesh knits itself back together. Your vision swims, then sharpens as you blink up at her—at your body—looming over you.

"There," she purrs, running her your fingers over your cheek. "All better."

You gingerly sit up, feeling very very strange. You lift a hand and stare at the delicate fingers, the painted nails. The sundress clings to unfamiliar curves, the fabric soft against skin that isn’t yours.