"Well, now that we're alone..."

Your girlfriend—now wearing your body—pins you against the workbench with a predatory grin. Her fingers (your fingers, really) dig into the soft flesh of your new hips as she leans in, her breath hot against your ear.

"Look at you," she murmurs. "All flustered in my little sundress." She tugs at the strap, letting it slide off your shoulder. The fabric gets caught on your hip on the way down, reminding you how wide they are now.

You swallow hard, your pulse fluttering in your throat. "This is so fucking weird," you mutter, staring down at the swell of her breasts beneath the thin fabric. Your hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to touch.

She laughs, and grabs your wrist, pressing your little palm against your new chest. "Go on," she teases. "You're allowed to grab your own tits."

"My tits? They are still yours, I'm just attached to them!"

"Nuh-uh, they are yours now. Just like this is my dick."

Her—your—cock stands at full attention, twitching slightly as she runs a hand down her stomach.

"You’re really enjoying this," you accuse, your face burning.

"Uh, duh." She gives herself a slow stroke, her eyes locked on yours. "This feels amazing, no wonder guys like sex so much." She steps closer again, her free hand sliding up your thigh. "Ready to feel what it's like from the other side?"

Her fingers brush against your new folds, and you jerk back with a startled yelp. "Jesus—!"

"Relax," she purrs, pressing you back against the bench. "I know what I’m doing." Her touch is confident, teasing, tracing slow circles that make your knees wobble. "Ohhh, you’re so wet already."

You bite your lip, torn between embarrassment and the undeniable heat pooling low in your stomach. "This isn’t fair," you mutter.

She chuckles, leaning in to nip at your neck. "Life’s not fair, babe." Then, without warning, she slides a finger inside you, and your back arches off the bench.

"Fuck—!" Your hands scramble for purchase, gripping the edge of the workbench as she curls her finger just right, sending sparks up your spine.

"See?" she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. "I told you you’d like it."

You’re about to retort when she adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that’s entirely new, and all you can do is moan, your hips rocking against her hand.

She watches you with dark amusement, her other hand still lazily stroking your old cock. "God, you’re so responsive like this." She presses her thumb against your clit, and you nearly see stars. "Maybe we should stay like this for a while."

"Shut—ah—shut up," you pant, your painted nails digging into the wood.

She just laughs, speeding up her fingers, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. "Come on, let me hear you."

You try to hold back, but the sensations are too much—too new—and when she crooks her fingers just right, you cum with a broken cry, your whole body trembling.

She slows her movements, letting you ride it out before pulling her fingers free with a wet sound. "Damn," she murmurs, admiring the slickness glistening on her hand. "I’m good at this."

You’re still catching your breath when she grabs your hips and flips you around, pressing your chest against the bench. The sundress rides up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed.

"W-wait—" you stammer, but she’s already lining up, the head of your old cock pressing against your entrance. It feels foreign. Like it's not yours anymore, and totally happy with it's new master.

"Relax," she murmurs, running a soothing hand down your back. "I’ll go slow."

And then she pushes in.

The stretch is intense, your body clamping down around her as she sinks deeper, inch by inch. You gasp, your fingers scrabbling against the bench as she bottoms out, her hips flush against your ass.

"Fuck," she groans, her voice strained. "You feel amazing."

You can’t even form words, too overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the way every little movement sends shocks of pleasure through you.

She starts slow, rolling her hips in a way that makes you whimper, her hands gripping your waist. "You okay?" she asks, her breath ragged.

You nod frantically, your nails digging into the wood. "Y-yeah, just—fuck—just move."

She obliges, picking up the pace, each thrust driving you higher. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the garage, mingling with your ragged breaths and her low groans.

"My body is so tight," she grits out, her fingers digging into your hips. "God, I could get used to this."

You’re too far gone to respond, your whole body alight with sensation. Every drag of her cock inside you, every brush against that spot—it’s too much, and yet not enough.

Then her hand slips between your legs, her thumb circling your clit, and you shatter, your vision whiting out as you clench around her. She follows right after, her hips stuttering as she buries herself deep, her groan loud in your ear.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, both panting, sweat-slicked and spent.

Then she pulls out with a wet sound, and you nearly collapse onto the bench, your legs like jelly.

She chuckles, running a hand through her—your—hair. "Well," she says, grinning down at you. "That was definitely worth the swap."

You groan, burying your face in your arms. "Let's swap back now."

She just laughs, patting your ass. "About that...."