Take Off That Top The New World of SwapTech chapter 10 by bodyswapbabe

The stall door clicked shut behind them, muffling the carnival of park sounds. Inside, it was tight—too tight, really—but Miriam didn’t seem to mind. She slid the lock into place with an audible snick and turned to face her husband.

Fitz stood there like a deer in headlights, arms half-crossed, hair damp and sticking to his cheek. The tank top had gone semi-sheer an hour ago, but now, with the air-conditioned bathroom prickling against his skin, the shape of his breasts was undeniable—round, full, high—and the way the fabric clung left little room for modesty.

Miriam leaned her back against the wall and let out a low, amused whistle.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Fitz fumbled. “I—this top—I didn’t choose this.”

“I know, I know. Just…” She stepped forward, voice softening. “They’re really something, Fitz.”

She reached out before he could protest, laying her palm gently over the swell of one breast. It was warm, heavy, real. Fitz’s breath hitched audibly.

“Jesus.”

“Too much?”

“I don’t even know,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s like my brain is short-circuiting.”

Miriam’s hand didn’t move. She brushed her thumb slowly across the soaked fabric, right over the hardened peak of his nipple.

Fitz twitched. “That—okay, wow. That’s way more sensitive than I expected.”

She smiled, amused and a little wicked. “Yeah, they tend to be.”

“I don’t know how anyone functions with these things. I can feel them bounce when I walk. When I breathe.”

Miriam’s hand slipped under the hem of the tank top. Slowly, carefully, she peeled it upward, revealing skin inch by inch. Pale, flushed, trembling slightly. Fitz didn’t stop her. When the tank passed over his breasts, they bounced free with a gentle, jiggling release—weighty, natural, unmistakably feminine.

Miriam looked, eyes wide but reverent. “Wow.”

Fitz crossed his arms again, instinctive. “God, don’t stare.”

“You’re literally topless in a bathroom stall with your wife,” she teased. “I think we’re past the point of modesty.”

She reached out again, cupping one breast fully this time. The warmth of her palm, the skin-on-skin contact—it sent a jolt through him that landed somewhere south of logical thought. He gasped, hips shifting against the wall.

“That feel okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, breathless. “It feels… insane. I can feel every part of it. Your fingers, your nails. My whole chest is lighting up like—like it’s plugged into something.”

Her other hand came up, cradling the second breast, thumbs brushing over both nipples now. Fitz moaned quietly, knees weakening.

“Miriam—”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think this body is more responsive than mine.”

She tilted her head. “Yeah? Think you might… like that?”

He didn’t answer. But the heat in his face, the twitch in his hips, the way his hands gripped the edge of the toilet tank behind him like it was a lifeline—that said enough.

Miriam leaned in, kissed his cheek, then lower—her lips brushing the corner of his jaw. “You’re allowed to enjoy it, you know.”

“I’m not supposed to.”

“Says who?” she whispered, lips ghosting down the slope of his neck. “This is just a detour, Fitz. It doesn’t mean anything if we don’t want it to. Or it can mean a lot.”

Her hands still cupped him, thumbs making slow, teasing circles. He closed his eyes.

Outside the stall, someone turned on a hand dryer. A child laughed.

Inside, Fitz let his breath out in one long, trembling rush. “I don’t even know what to do with these.”

Miriam smiled against his skin. “Good thing I do.”