Swapocalypse Part II The Remote of Transformation chapter 11 by deleted_user

“Come on, genius,” Mike grumbled. “Fix your mess before I decide to keep these sad little tits and zap you into a goldfish.”

“I’m trying,” Paul rumbled. He closed his eyes, forcing his nerdy brain to focus.

He pressed ACTIVATE.

The remote hummed louder than before. A ripple of white light exploded outward, washing over the entire mall like a shockwave.

For one hopeful second, everything seemed to blur and shift correctly.

Paul’s vision swam.

When it cleared, he was still tall… but not construction-worker tall anymore. And he was still standing in the same place as he was when he hit the button; he hadn't moved in space this time. He looked down.

Heavy, natural DD-cups strained against a tight red tank top. He looked in the nearby reflective surface of a shop window. Shit.

He was in the body of a voluptuous Latina woman in her late twenties—curvy hourglass figure, wide hips, thick thighs, and a nice rack. Long dark wavy hair cascaded down his back. His new ass was plush and jiggly, and between his legs was a smooth, warm pussy that immediately sent confusing signals up his spine. Manicured nails. Hoop earrings. He felt… bouncy.

“What the—?!” It came out in a sultry, accented lilt that made Paul clap a hand over his plump lips.

Nearby, a scrawny, effeminate male in skinny jeans, tight crop top, and perfectly styled blond hair screamed in a high, lispy voice. “You motherfucker! I had tits two seconds ago and now I’m a goddamn twink?! I’m gonna kill you!”

So Mike was also still swapped. It's not just me. Though it seems like this time, everyone stayed where they were, and their bodies just changed. Hmmm.

He spotted the female body he and then Mike had occupied wandering nearby, but it was occupied by yet another stranger—this time a confused teenage boy who kept poking at the small breasts and muttering, “Bro… I have boobs now…”

Paul’s new thick thighs rubbed together as he waddled forward, heavy breasts bouncing heavily with every step. The sensation was overwhelming—soft flesh jiggling, nipples brushing fabric, a constant warm throb between his legs. “This is so much worse,” he groaned in that sultry voice. “I have curves everywhere! And…" oh god it feels kinda good when they bounce…

Mike snatched at Paul’s arm with delicate hands. “You said you were fixing it! Now I’m twinking it up over here! Give me that remote, you curvy disaster!”

Across the atrium, someone currently wearing the body of Farrah Fuxx stormed towards them, tits bouncing wildly, face twisted in prudish outrage. “You there! Curvy girl! Do you know what's going on here?”

Paul’s flushed hot. He reached for the remote, but realized it was no longer on him--it must have gone with the construction worker. Fuck. He needed to grab the remote before someone else did, find his actual friends in whatever bodies they were wearing now, and somehow stop this before the mall devolved into total anarchy.