Combat-Class Model The New World of SwapTech chapter 4 by bodyswapbabe

The moment Trevor sat up, he felt it.

Tension across wide shoulders. The subtle grind of power in his hips as he shifted. Breasts, yes—but barely contained under a fitted compression tank, more athletic than sexual. His arms bulged slightly as he moved, sinew and strength. When he breathed, his ribs expanded like bellows.

The mirror gave him the full picture: 5’10”, tanned skin with a light sheen of oil, muscles like they’d been sculpted out of clay. Her face was sharp, striking—high cheekbones, slightly flattened nose like it had been broken once, full lips, hair buzzed into an undercut. Her eyes glowed with attitude. Or maybe contempt.

Aika looked like someone who could—and would—kick Trevor’s former ass.

“Shit,” he said. His voice was low. Husky, rough. Feminine, but like a blade dragged against concrete. He touched his abs. Rock hard. His thighs flexed under tight cargo pants with a strength that felt dangerous. Every movement had weight.

SwapPort pinged.

“Welcome to your Combat-Class model: Aika. Rated for urban mobility, multilingual fluency, crowd control, and athletic endurance. Warning: Aggression protocols are set to Moderate.”

Trevor cracked his neck. “Aggression protocols?”

A man behind him looked too long. Trevor turned. His body shifted with predator grace. The man looked away. Fast.

It wasn’t sex appeal. It was dominance. Trevor had never felt feared before. It was… addictive.

He found a phone in his pocket. Notifications. A fight gym downtown was expecting a demo from Swaptyx’s newest “femme athlete tech body.” And of course there was his Expo presentation to get to.

Two very different spotlights.