Swedish Pumps

I stumbled upon that damn device in a dusty box at a garage sale, some old guy's junk he probably didn't even know worked. It looked like a fancy remote, with buttons for "scan source," "target," and toggles for awareness levels. I figured it was a prank gadget at first, but curiosity got me. Tested it on a plant, but nothing happened until I accidentally zapped my roommate Miguel while he was crashing on the couch one night. One flash, and suddenly I had his body from the neck down, ripped abs, tan skin, and holy shit, a cock like a goddamn forearm. His head stayed the same on my old frame, but I freaked out, swapped back quick. Kept thinking about that dick (No homo) though, got major envy.

So I did what any man would do, bought myself one of those Swedish penis pumps online, the kind that promises inches if you stick with it.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and Miguel catches me in the bathroom one night, pumping away like an idiot. The guy's a Latino stud, short spiked hair, thick beard, always strutting around like he owns the place. He busts out laughing, calls me "Pump Daddy" every chance he gets. "Yo, bro, still trying to catch up to the big leagues?" he'd say, grabbing his crotch for emphasis. I gritted my teeth, but enough was enough. That device was calling my name.

Our busty MILF neighbor, Mrs. Ramirez, was outside gardening that afternoon, her massive tits straining against a yellow camisole top, ass like two pillows in those shorts, tattoos swirling down her forearms from her wild younger days. I scanned her as the source, heart pounding. Snuck back into the apartment where Miguel was passed out on the couch after a long shift, beer cans scattered. Aimed the device, hit target, and watched the magic.

His body rippled, shrinking in some places, ballooning in others. Chest swelled into those enormous tits, waist cinched, hips flared wide, legs toned and smooth. Tattoos appeared on his forearms, exactly like hers, and between his thighs, a shaved pussy formed, pink and perfect. His head stayed the same, spiked hair, beard, snoring away. I toggled awareness to "only user knows," meaning he'd think this curvy bombshell body was always his, everyone else too. I wanted to see macho Miguel navigate life with a MILF's curves, oblivious.

Took a nap in my room as well and woke up to shuffling in the living room. Door was cracked open now, but I'm sure I'd shut it earlier. I pushed it wider and there he was, half-sitting, half-standing on the red blanket covered couch, yellow spaghetti strap camisole yanked down, those massive tits spilled out, heavy and round, nipples dark and perky, jiggling with every move. He had my penis pump in hand, the clear tube end clamped right onto his new clit, pumping away like it was the most normal thing.

"Hey dude! Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he said in his deep voice, beard scratching as he grinned. "Just thought I'd borrow your pump. Looking a little small tonight, and I got that big date with Mindy, you know, the chick from the bar? Gotta get primed."

I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing, watching this bearded Latino guy with a woman's voluptuous body, tits heaving, trying to enlarge a clit he thought was his dick. The pump sucked and released, making that little nub swell, his shaved pussy lips glistening under it. He leaned back on the couch, legs spread, the yellow top bunched up, exposing everything.

"Go for it, man," I said, voice cracking a bit. "Pump it faster, dude. Really get in there."

He nodded, cranked the handle quicker. A low moan escaped his lips. "Ah, shit... I don't think this thing works, bro!" His legs buckled, thighs quivering, those huge tits bouncing as he stifled another groan, hand still pumping. Juices started leaking from his pussy, soaking the red blanket cover, the air smelling like sweet arousal mixed with his usual cologne.

"Well, something's working," I chuckled, shifting to hide my growing hard-on. Watching him like this, clueless, body reacting like a horny MILF, was hotter than I expected. His clit throbbed under the pump, pussy clenching visibly.

He caught his breath, eyes flicking to me, beard damp with sweat. "Dude, do you mind if I finish this in my room? Kinda weird you're staring like that."

I burst out laughing. "Go for it, my man. You're the one who started out here." He was already waddling toward his door, tits swaying, pump still attached, pussy lips shiny. "Just clean it good after, yeah?" I yelled.

He waved a tattooed arm without looking back, door clicking shut. I collapsed on the couch, dick throbbing, replaying the sight. Revenge tasted sweet, but damn, I might keep him like this a while longer.

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The Scientist

The old scientist's lab reeked of ozone and chemicals, the kind that burned your nostrils and made your eyes water. He'd been tinkering for years, swapping traits between rats and dogs, watching them hump each other in confusion. But animals weren't enough. He needed humans. So he snatched Leroy off the alley where the big African American dealer slung his bags, large man, thick beard, tattoos snaking up his neck like vines. And Candy, the streetwalker on the corner, her voluptuous body inked and curved like a porn star's dream, tits heavy and ass round, always ready for the next john.

Leroy woke up strapped to a table, seething. "You crazy old fuck! Let me go or I'll gut you!" His voice boomed, muscles straining against the bonds. The scientist, greying hair wild, glasses perched on his nose, just chuckled. Candy was out cold next to him. "Relax, boy. You're going to be part of something revolutionary! This device is gonna swap you two. Your head on her body, but with her mind and that insatiable sex drive. You'll think you're just on the job, fucking me for a fat payday." The scientist smiled as he held out his device. Leroy spat curses, threats of violence, but the scientist flicked the switch. A hum, a flash, and Leroy's world spun.

When he came to, everything felt wrong, but right. His head was still his, beard scratching at his collarbone, but below? Soft, curvy flesh, tits bouncing free, pussy throbbing with need. Tattoos from Candy's ribs peeked out on his new skin. He blinked, but the thoughts weren't his. "Gotta work, gotta get paid," he muttered in his deep voice, standing naked, hips swaying like he'd done this a thousand times. The scientist led him to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation. Leroy pushed the old man onto the bed, climbing on top, that voluptuous body straddling him. The scientist's cock slid into the slick, tight pussy, and Leroy moaned, grinding down professionally, tits slapping against his chest with each bounce.

"Fuck yeah, daddy, you like this wet cunt?" Leroy growled, it was his voice but it was Candy's words spilling out, her nympho hunger driving him. The scientist groaned, hands gripping those wide hips, feeling the heat, the wetness coating his dick as Leroy rode him hard. Sweat beaded on the curvy body, the smell of sex filling the room, musky and raw, mixed with Candy's cheap perfume clinging to the skin. Leroy's beard bobbed with each thrust, tattoos flexing as he worked, pussy clenching around the shaft, juices dripping down onto the sheets.

But then, mid-bounce, something snapped. The mental fog lifted like a curtain ripping. Leroy's eyes widened. "What the... fuck?" He looked down in horror, seeing his own bearded face staring at massive tits jiggling, his new pussy stuffed full of dick, sliding up and down. The sensation hit him, the stretch, the fullness, the building pressure in his clit. "You sick bastard!" Rage boiled over. His hands shot to the scientist's throat, squeezing hard, as he choked the old man. The scientist gasped, face turning red, but he bucked his hips wildly, pumping faster into that stolen cunt.

Leroy's grip tightened, vision blurring, but the thrusts hit deeper, grinding against spots that made his body betray him. "No... stop... ah fuck!" A wave built, unwanted pleasure crashing through him. The scientist pounded relentlessly, feeling the pussy spasm around him. Leroy's hands shook, the orgasm ripping through, powerful and humiliating, his curvy body writhing, tits heaving, pussy gushing as he came hard, screaming in his deep voice. Stars exploded, muscles clenching, leaving him limp for a second.

The scientist shoved him off, scrambling away, lungs burning. He ran for the door, heart pounding, locking it from the outside, as Leroy collapsed in a heap, horrified and spent.

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Home Early

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Feel what she feels

I'm standing in the dining room, heart pounding like a drum, staring at this nightmare version of myself. My lover, Carla, the hot little apprentice witch I’ve been banging behind my wife’s back for months, is pacing in her baby blue blouse that’s unbuttoned way too low, tits almost spilling out. She looks pissed and scared at the same time.

And then there’s me. My own head, short spiked hair, neat beard, the one my wife kisses every morning, stuck on top of Carla’s exact fucking body. Same curvy hips, same heavy double-D tits straining against this skimpy black lace bra and thong set she loves wearing for me. My new tits rise and fall with every panicked breath, nipples already hard and poking through the sheer fabric because this body is so damn sensitive. Every shift of the lace sends little sparks straight to my new pussy, which is already getting slick.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, Rick!” Carla hisses, waving her hands like she’s trying to swat the magic away. “I just wanted you to feel what I feel when you touch me, to know every spot that makes me wet. Not… not this!”

I look down at myself, at these smooth tanned legs, the curve of this fat ass in the mirror on the wall. I shift my weight and feel the thong ride up between my new cheeks, the string rubbing right against my asshole. My tits jiggle with the movement, heavy and full, and fuck, it feels good in the worst way. I grab them without thinking, just to steady them, and a moan slips out of my throat before I can stop it. The nipples are so hard they ache, and squeezing sends a hot pulse straight down to my clit.

“Stop groping yourself and help me fix this!” Carla snaps, but her eyes are glued to my chest, watching her own body react to my touch.

“I’m not groping, I’m… fuck, they’re sensitive!” I growl. I pinch one nipple through the lace and my knees almost buckle. My pussy clenches hard, a fresh gush of wetness soaking the thong. “How the hell do you walk around with these things?!”

Carla grabs her spellbook off the table, flipping pages frantically. “The reversal incantation should work. Stand still.”

She starts chanting, hands glowing faint purple, waving them over me. Nothing happens. The glow fizzles out like a dud firework. She tries again, voice rising, sweat beading between her tits. Still nothing.

“Shit. Shit!” She slams the book shut. “I must’ve bound it too deep. It’s stuck until the moon cycle resets or something. I don’t know!”

I glance at the clock. My wife’s due home any minute. She thinks I’m at a work dinner. If she walks in and sees me like this, head on Carla’s identical slutty body, both of us half-dressed and reeking of sex and panic…

“Change me back before my wife comes back home!” I yell, voice cracking. I grab Carla’s shoulders, my manicured nails digging in. My tits press against her blouse, nipple to nipple through thin fabric, and we both gasp at the contact. Electricity shoots through me, my pussy throbbing so hard I have to clench my thighs together.

I look down and see the dark wet spot spreading on the black thong. My clit is swollen, poking against the lace, begging for friction. I can’t help it. I slide one hand down, cupping my new mound, and the second my fingers brush the clit I whimper. It’s like a direct line to every nerve in this body.

“We don’t have time,” I groan, but I’m already rubbing slow circles, hips rocking forward.

Carla bites her lip, watching me finger her own pussy on my body. “Just… quick. Maybe if you come it’ll loosen the binding.”

I hear the front door lock click.

Too late.

Don't you want your wife back?

 I’m on my knees at the foot of the bed, heart hammering so hard I can taste metal. The bedroom still smells like her vanilla body lotion. And there he is, that smug motherfucker Vince from accounting, the prick who’s always hated me, on all fours in the middle of our mattress wearing my wife’s stolen fucking body like it’s his favorite new toy.

His head (short salt-and-pepper spikes, trimmed goatee, that same shit-eating grin he wears in meetings) looks ridiculous bolted onto Sarah’s perfect hourglass frame. Her heavy tits dangle beneath him, fat and round, nipples dark and stiff, swaying like ripe fruit every time he shifts his weight.

He locks eyes with me and gives a little bounce on the mattress, making those gorgeous tits slap together with a wet, meaty sound.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” he mocks in his gravelly voice. “Don’t you want your wife back?”

Another bounce. The tits jiggle harder, nipples tracing lazy circles in the air. I hear the faint creak of bedsprings and the wetter sound of Sarah’s pussy, my wife’s pussy, dripping onto our sheets because this bastard is getting off on teasing me.

He crawls closer, ass in the air, back arched like a bitch in heat. Her long hair is gone, replaced by his short spikes, but everything else is pure Sarah: tiny waist flaring into wide hips, thick thighs trembling, that perfect heart-shaped ass I used to slap red now flexing under his control.

“Fuck, these things are heavy,” he groans, reaching one manicured hand up to grab a hanging tit. He squeezes hard, milk-white flesh spilling between his fingers. “Bet you miss sucking on these, huh? Miss sliding your cock between them while she moaned your name?”

He laughs, low and dirty, then slaps the underside of the breast so it bounces wildly. The smack echoes. My cock jerks traitorously in my jeans even as my stomach churns.

He drops his chest lower, dragging those stiff nipples across the sheets, then looks back over his shoulder at me, goatee scratching against Sarah’s smooth shoulder.

“Tell you what,” he purrs, voice thick with lust, “beg real pretty, and maybe I’ll let you watch me fuck your wife’s body with my fingers first. Maybe I’ll even let you taste how sweet her cunt still is when I’m done.”

I’m frozen, cock throbbing, tears burning my eyes, watching the love of my life reduced to a smirking, jiggling fucktoy wearing the face of the man I hate.

And the worst part? Some sick, broken part of me wants to crawl forward and bury my face between those thighs just to feel her one more time, even if it’s him moaning when I do.