Look for the Construction Worker
The Remote of Transformation
chapter 12
by
deleted_user
Farrah Fuxx - whoever she really was - planted herself in front of Paul and Mike, those signature enormous breasts heaving.
“Excuse me! You two—do you have any idea what the hell is going on here? One minute I’m complaining about the price of kale at Whole Foods, the next I’m… I’m this!” She gestured wildly at her own overflowing cleavage, the motion making the heavy tits wobble hypnotically. “These things are ridiculous! They won’t stop moving and they’re so… sensitive. It’s indecent!”
Mike’s anger instantly evaporated. His mouth dropped open. A thin line of drool actually escaped the corner of his lips as he stared, wide-eyed, at the towering blonde bombshell. “Holy… fucking… shit,” he whispered, voice cracking into a breathy lisp. His anger at Paul from a few seconds ago was completely neutered, replaced by pure, slack-jawed lust. “Look at those… those tits. Jesus Christ, they’re bigger in person. I mean—uh—ma’am. Wow.”
Paul rolled his new dark eyes, one manicured hand instinctively steadying his own heavy DD breasts as they shifted. “Mike, focus. That’s not actually Farrah. It’s some random person.”
Farrah narrowed her eyes at Mike’s obvious drooling, then turned back to Paul. “Well? Explain! My husband is probably in some horrible body right now and these… these udders keep bouncing and making me feel all warm and weird downstairs!”
Paul held up his hands. “I’m working on it, okay? I’m Paul—sort of. I caused the first swap trying to fix things, and the second one made it worse. The remote is still out there. It’s probably with the construction worker body I was just in. I need to find that guy— whoever’s inside him now—and get it back so I can actually set everything right this time. I’m really sorry about all this.”
Farrah huffed, which did spectacular things to her chest. Mike kept staring, utterly useless now, one hand unconsciously adjusting the front of his skinny jeans.
Paul excused himself quickly. “I’ll be right back. Just… stay here or something. Try not to touch anything you don’t want to feel.”
He wished he could take his own advice. As he turned and waddled off on thick thighs, his ass jiggled noticeably with every step, long dark hair swaying. The sensations were overwhelming—breasts bouncing, pussy lips rubbing together, every movement sending little sparks of unwanted pleasure through his new body. Paul kept scanning the chaotic crowd for the unmistakable sight of the big, bearded construction worker: 6’2”, safety vest, tool belt, massive shoulders.
“Come on… where are you, big guy…” he muttered, voice sultry and frustrated. “I just need the remote. Then I can fix this mess once and for all.”
Somewhere in the distance he thought he saw a flash of the safety vest pushing through the panicked shoppers, but it was hard to tell in all the screaming and mismatched bodies.