Wet T-Shirt Problems The New World of SwapTech chapter 8 by bodyswapbabe

Fitz couldn’t stop tugging at the damp tank top suctioned to his chest like shrink-wrap. Every time he moved, the fabric clung tighter, drawing fresh attention to just how little coverage it offered—and just how much he now had to cover.

“I swear this thing is getting tighter,” he muttered, tugging again at the neckline. “Is that a thing? Does water activate the slut settings?”

Beside him, Miriam chuckled. “Slut settings?”

He glanced down with a grimace. The soaked cotton had turned transparent, outlining every contour of his new body in unapologetic detail. Two clearly outlined nipples poked out like shameful little beacons, practically waving to passersby.

“There’s no bra,” he hissed. “This body came without a damn bra, Miriam.”

“I noticed,” she said breezily.

“You noticed?”

She tilted her sunglasses down her nose and gave him a slow, very obvious once-over. “I’m not blind, Fitz.”

The boys were a few paces ahead—Rory skipping toward a popcorn stand, Nolan examining a ride map like it was a military briefing. Fitz trailed behind, arms awkwardly crossed over his chest, flannel balled under one arm like it might give him back his dignity if he clutched it hard enough.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “I feel like a wet t-shirt contest reject.”

Miriam hummed. “You know… you could do worse.”

Fitz stopped mid-step. “What?”

She shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying… if this were a contest, you’d place. Probably top three.”

He stared at her. “Miriam.”

“What?” she said, too casually. “You’ve got great legs. Cute face. And your tits—sorry, your borrowed tits—are spectacular.”

Fitz flushed. “You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“Why not?” she teased. “You’ve been wandering around like a bashful pin-up all afternoon. I figured a compliment might ease the tension.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Her gaze hadn’t wavered. She wasn’t teasing him—not entirely. There was something else there. Something warm. Curious. Appraising.