Morning Wakeup The New World of SwapTech chapter 8 by deleted_user

The morning began with a low, guttural rumble and a high-pitched toot. Jay shifted, his hand going to his stomach, a natural, groggy reaction to the gas gurgling in his gut. He had to get home. He had to be back in his own bed. The thought of it was a relief so profound he almost cried. He hated long days on the road like this. He went to scratch the itch on his ass, a habit he’d had for years, but his hand came into contact with something soft, fleshy, and… curvy.

He froze.

The memories came rushing back, a cold, nauseating wave of humiliation and terror. The rest stop. The bikini. The truckers. His new body. The Instagram model. Kendra Rose. He wasn't home. He wasn't Jay. He was a woman, in a semi-truck, and his life was still a living nightmare.

He sat up, the tiny bikini top he was still wearing feeling even more constricting than before. The sunlight streaming through the cab's window was a cruel, bright spotlight on his new reality. He felt his ass again, a soft, rounded curve that felt so alien, so wrong. The gas rumbled again, and he remembered with a jolt that he hadn't peed since yesterday. He had to go, but the thought of facing the world again, of facing another bathroom, was a fresh wave of terror.

He grabbed his phone, a small comfort. No new messages. No reply from Kendra. The silence was a crushing weight. He was alone.

He looked down at his new body, really looked at it. It was a sexy body, he had to admit. A work of art. The skin was flawless, the curves were sculpted, the long legs were toned and muscular. His hands, once thick and calloused, were now delicate, with long, manicured fingers. He ran a hand down his stomach, a flat, toned surface where his gut used to be. The feeling was a strange mixture of disgust and fascination. He was a man, a tired, miserable man, but he was in the body of a goddess.

His curiosity, a deep-seated part of his personality he had long suppressed, began to stir. He was a man who worked in middle management. He was a man who drove a truck. He was a man who lived a boring, predictable life. But now, he was in a woman's body, a beautiful woman's body, and he had to know. He had to understand. He had to explore.

He slowly, hesitantly, reached out and touched his new breasts. The skin was soft, a warm, yielding flesh that was so much more sensitive than he could have ever imagined. He prodded them, a bit harder this time, feeling a new jolt of sensation. He ran a hand over his chest, his fingers tracing the line of his new breasts. They were so large. They were so sensitive. He had no idea what to do with them.

He reached up, his small, delicate hands feeling alien against his own skin. He took the bikini top off, the straps protesting, and tossed it to the side. The feeling of the cool air on his bare breasts was a strange mix of relief and terror. He stared at his new chest, a twin pair of monumental globes. He was a man. He was a truck driver. He was a father. But now, he was a woman, a beautiful woman, and he had a pair of breasts that were a constant, impossible, jiggling reminder of his new, unwelcome reality.

He touched them again, his fingers tracing the line of his new breasts. He explored them, his fingers tracing the curve of the mounds, the soft, yielding flesh, the sensitive skin. He felt a new sensation, a deep, warm feeling that was almost pleasant.

He was interrupted by the chime of his phone. A message. A reply. His heart leaped into his throat. He grabbed the phone, his hands shaking, and looked at the screen. The message was from Kendra.

"I have no idea who you are," it read. "But if you think this is a joke, you're in for a very rude awakening. I've been some pudgy loser for half a day. I turned right in the middle of a photo shoot yesterday! Change us back. Right. Now."