Busty college girl The New World of SwapTech chapter 5 by bodyswapbabe

There was no noise. No jolt. Just the faint hum of the pod fading into silence, and a long, floating exhale. Fitz opened his eyes to soft, indirect light and the smell of artificial citrus. For a second, everything felt fine.

Then he tried to sit up. His limbs moved wrong—too light, too slender. His center of gravity had shifted, his hips subtly tugging him off balance. His chest…

He froze. Looked down. And blinked.

Two full, jiggling breasts strained against a snug crop top—white with faint blue piping and a faded "GO STALLIONS!" logo stretched tightly across the front. A bronze-gold belly ring glinted in the light from amid a taut strip of tanned midriff. His thighs were bare. Short shorts. Tied flannel shirt around the waist. Smooth knees. Shaved legs.

He made a sound. A helpless little gasp.

His hands flew up. Smaller. Softer. Long fingers, manicured in glossy pink. When he cupped them beneath his breasts—his breasts—they pushed back. Real weight. Soft and heavy, nothing like the padded athletic bras Miriam wore sometimes. These were... hefty.

He stood on unsteady legs. The mirror panel on the side of the pod gave him a glimpse: a girl, maybe twenty, sun-kissed and hourglass-shaped, with thick strawberry-blonde hair in a loose ponytail and glossy lips parted in dismay.

“Fuck me,” Fitz whispered. His voice came out breathy, a little husky, with a faint valley-girl lilt.

He slapped a hand over his mouth. Immediately felt how plump his lips were. Moisturizer? Lip gloss?

The pod next to him hissed open. Miriam - or at least a woman who matched Miriam's profile - sat up, hair tousled and smile already forming—until she turned and saw him. She was clearly not expecting another woman to arrive at the same time as her.

“Oh! Uh—hello?”

“It’s me,” Fitz croaked. His voice was higher, breathier. “It’s Fitz.”

Miriam tilted her head like a confused dog. She stared for a beat, blinking.

Then: “No. No. Noooooope.”

Behind them, another pod hissed open. Then another.

Rory’s voice came first. “I gotta pee!”

Then Nolan’s: “Wait, where’s Dad?”

Fitz backed up, bumping into the pod behind him. “I think something went wrong. Very, very wrong.”

Miriam stood. “Okay, where’s the real—?”

“DAD?” Nolan pointed. “IS THAT YOU? WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A GIRL?”

“I SAID I GOTTA PEE!” Rory wailed.

Fitz clutched his arms over his chest and tried to breathe. His heart was racing. Every time he inhaled, the new weight on his chest shifted with it—soft, bouncing with its own inertia. The crop top didn’t help. He could feel the fabric clinging under his arms, slightly damp from pod condensation. The skin there was smooth, hairless, still foreign.

Miriam made a strangled sound and darted over to the help panel, slapping the red HELP icon like she was defusing a bomb.

A chime. A pause. Then a door opened with a cheery ping, and a Swaptyx rep entered—young, vaguely disheveled, wearing a blazer over cargo shorts.

“Good morning! Everything working all right with your assignment today?”

“No,” Fitz said, stepping forward. Then immediately stepping back as he realized the motion bounced his whole body in ways he didn’t want anyone witnessing. “I’m not supposed to be this… this—” He gestured to his whole body, flushing bright pink.

The rep checked his tablet. “Name?”

“Fitz McElroy.”

A few swipes. “Ah. Yeah, looks like a subnet mix-up. You were supposed to route into male sleeve A14. Looks like you got queued into B9 instead.”

Miriam’s eyes narrowed. “B9?”

The rep hesitated. “College co-ed. Most often used in romantic fantasy sims, sometimes as a lifestyle influencer. High social metrics. Limited combat training, but good reflexes and balance.”

“I don’t care if she can run marathons while doing keg stands,” Miriam snapped. “We want the body we paid for.”

“You’ll get it. The sleeve just needs to finish memory clearance and recalibration. Few hours, tops.”

“That’s not good enough,” Fitz said.

The boys were still staring. Nolan had his hands over his mouth to contain his giggles.

Rory frowned. “You don’t sound like Dad.”

“That’s because this throat isn’t mine!” Fitz shouted, then immediately flinched as his own voice sent a chill down his spine.

The rep cleared his throat. “We’ll log the misassignment. Flag your account. Comp your meals and vehicle. If you’d rather wait here for reassignment, we can send over some magazines and—”

“Wait?” Rory cried. “But we just GOT here!”

“We can’t miss the Chuck Thunderpants ride!” Nolan added.

Fitz looked at them. Their little faces. Their excitement. Then down at himself. His thighs were touching in a way his real thighs never did. The crop top rode up every time he moved. His breasts had a kind of... presence that was hard to ignore.

Miriam gently touched his arm. “You okay?”

He looked at her. Eyes wide. Voice low. “It's just... my boobs move when I breathe.”

She blinked. “Yeah. That’s… yeah.”

“I feel like today's going to be really awkward like this.”

“…Probably, yeah.”

Fitz’s shoulders sagged.

Miriam turned to Fitz, her tone softening. “It’s up to you, babe. I’ll back you if you want to wait.”