I don't want them on me

We were messing around at the mall like idiots, my buddy Jaxson and me, testing out this weird remote I'd found on the street the other day. It was supposed to scan someone as the "source" and zap a target to match them, body-wise, but heads always stayed put for some glitchy reason. You could tweak who knew about the swap too, make it so everyone thinks it's normal, or just a few folks, or nobody at all. We'd been on a little spree, swapping random people for laughs, watching dudes waddle around with chick asses or whatever. Harmless fun, right?

Then we spot this sexy woman strutting by in a floral sundress, all curves and confidence, massive tits straining the fabric, hips swaying like she owned the place. "Yo, let's swap her with that fat guy over there," I whisper to Jaxson, the big African American dude with short hair and a beard, always acting tough. He's grinning, egging me on. I scan her quick, aim at the fat man, but some klutz barrels into me from behind. I spin, finger slips on the trigger, and bam, the beam hits Jaxson square in the chest. Worse, the jolt knocks the awareness dial. Now only me, Jaxson, and the woman know what happened, everyone else oblivious. The remote flies out of my hand, smashes on the tile floor, circuits sparking like fireworks.

The woman screams, her eyes wide as she pats down her new chunky body, then bolts off into the crowd. Jaxson stands there, frozen, looking down at himself. His head's the same, beard and all, but below? That voluptuous frame, smooth brown skin, those enormous tits heaving with every breath, wide hips filling out the sundress, and I catch a glimpse of thong underneath as he shifts. People stare, but to them, he's always been this way, some bearded guy with a bombshell body in a dress. They were more staring at his reaction. "What the fuck, man?" he hisses, voice deep but body language all wrong, hands flying to cup those massive tits like they're grenades.

We hightail it back to my place before security gets nosy. We crash on the couch in the living room, the AC humming, smell of takeout lingering from dinner last night. Jaxson's sitting there in that unlady-like way he always does, legs spread wide, but this time, his sundress riding up, giving me a full view of those thick thighs and the thong barely covering a shaved pussy. His beard scratches against the floral fabric as he leans forward, poking at his new curves. "Bro, you need to fix that remote of yours," he says, voice cracking a bit. "As much as I love tits, I don't want them on me!" He grabs them, squeezing, the soft flesh spilling over his fingers, nipples poking through the thin material. They jiggle when he lets go, and he stares, mesmerized.

"I'm on it, man," I mutter, eyeing the broken remote on the coffee table, pieces scattered. "Just give me time to solder this shit back together." But honestly, I'm half-distracted, watching him. He's African American tough guy one minute, now this curvy goddess the next. He leans back, legs still splayed, sundress hiked higher, thong outlining everything. His hand drifts down, absentmindedly tracing the fabric over that pussy, and I hear a low moan escape his lips. "Damn, this feels... weird," he breathes, beard twitching as he rubs harder, fingers pressing into the slit through the thong. The room starts smelling like arousal, that musky sweetness mixing with his usual cologne.

I should tell him to stop, right? Snap him out of it. But my cock's stirring in my jeans, watching my best friend lose himself in this borrowed body. His massive tits rise and fall faster, nipples hard now, and he slips a hand under the thong, gasping as his fingers find the clit. "Oh shit... what the..." Another moan, deeper, his hips bucking a little on the couch. The sundress slips off one shoulder, exposing more of those tits, heavy and round. He's rubbing circles now, beard damp with sweat, eyes half-closed, totally gone in the sensation. Pussy juices start soaking the thong, the wet sounds filling the quiet room.

I just sit there, frozen, hard as hell, pretending to fiddle with the remote. Part of me wants to fix it quick, get him back. But another part? Watching Jaxson, this macho dude, writhe and moan like a slut in heat? Fuck, maybe I'll take my time.