Bikini Shoot The New World of SwapTech chapter 5 by deleted_user

He wasn't on the couch anymore. He wasn't in his suburban living room. He was… somewhere else. And he wasn't Jay Robinson.

His vision swam for a moment, and when it cleared, he was staring at a pair of legs. They were long, tanned, and toned, ending in perfectly pedicured feet with hot pink nails. He blinked, confused, and looked down. He was wearing... almost nothing. A tiny turquoise bikini top struggled to contain a pair of breasts that seemed to defy gravity. They were huge, a double D cup at least, and they were rising and falling with his quickening breaths. Below, a matching bikini bottom rode low on a pair of sculpted hips, revealing a flat, tanned stomach and a navel piercing that glinted in the sunlight.

He took a shaky step, his new feet feeling strange and unsteady. His hips swayed, a natural, sensual motion he’d never experienced before. He reached up, his new hand—with its long, elegant fingers and bright pink nails—to touch his face. His skin was smooth and soft, his cheekbones high and sharp. He felt a cascade of something long and silky fall over his shoulders. He reached back and found a waterfall of platinum blonde hair that fell all the way to his waist.

A man with a large camera and a stern expression was looking at him, a frown on his face. “Come on, babe, let’s go,” the man said, gesturing toward a set of white sand dunes in the distance. He looked past him, and saw palm trees swaying in the wind, and the sparkling blue of the ocean. He was at a beach. A photoshoot. A freaking swimsuit photoshoot.

A wave of nausea hit him, not from motion sickness, but from the sheer, mind-bending absurdity of it all. He was in a woman's body. A drop-dead gorgeous, bikini-clad woman's body. And a tiny, high-pitched scream escaped his throat.

"You okay, Chloe?" the photographer asked, his voice laced with annoyance. "We're losing the light."

Chloe. So that was the name. He—she—Jay was now Chloe. He swallowed, the lump in his throat feeling foreign and feminine. He tried to speak, but only a breathy, sensual alto came out. "I... I'm not feeling so good," he said, the words feeling weird on his new tongue.

The photographer sighed dramatically. "Look, I don't care about your post-lunch nausea, Chloe. We have a deadline. Now let's get this shot, or I'm calling your agent."

Agent? This was a whole new world. Jay felt a rising panic. His son, Kyle, was at home. He was supposed to be watching the game, but now he was... here. In the body of a bikini model named Chloe. He tried to think, but his brain was short-circuiting. The world was a blur of sun, sand, and the sudden, overwhelming sensation of breasts bouncing with every step.

He needed to get back. He needed to find his phone. He needed to get back to his suburban living room, to his beer, and to his son.

What if he couldn't get back? What if he was stuck here forever? The thought sent a jolt of ice through his veins, a stark contrast to the tropical heat. He had no idea what to do, where to go, or who this "Chloe" person was. He was just a middle-aged dad, a paper company manager, a guy who liked a cold beer and a good football game. And now he was... this. This person with a body that was as foreign to him as the moon.

"Chloe! Don't just stand there! The camera's rolling!" the photographer shouted again.

Jay, or Chloe, whatever he was, took a deep breath, and felt the twin globes on his chest rise and fall. He took a step, then another, his new hips swaying with a grace he didn't know he had.