The Transformation Device
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Chapter 5 BONUS
🕑 Added 2025-03-14 03:17:58 +0000 UTCThe following takes place after chapter 5 and before chapter 6, and follows the perspective of Sam and James as they explore their new bodies in the privacy of their own homes alone.
Sam
I’m sprawled across my bed, the mattress groaning under my new, curvier weight. These massive F-cup tits jiggle every time I shift, and I can’t stop staring at them. It’s been a wild day—yoga class, locker room glances, the whole damn body-swap mess—and I’m still wired. My Xbox controller’s in my hands, and I’m deep into a Call of Duty match, fragging noobs left and right. The adrenaline’s pumping, my heart’s racing, and fuck, I’m getting horny.
My hand drops to my crotch, ready to grip my dick and get going, but my fingers brush against something else—soft, slick, and warm. I freeze, then let out a low chuckle. Right. Chick body now.
“Guess we’re doing this the new way,” I mutter, kicking off my shorts. My thighs spread wide, and I yank my shirt up over my head, letting my massive F-cup tits spill out. They’re heavy, round, and fucking glorious, jiggling as I shift. The cool air hits my skin, making my nipples harden instantly, and I grin. This is gonna be fun.
I grab my tits with both hands, squeezing hard, feeling the soft flesh spill between my fingers. “Fuck, these are insane,” I say, my voice still high-pitched and girly, which just makes me laugh harder. I mash them together, watching them bulge, then pinch my nipples—hard. A sharp jolt shoots straight down to my core, and I groan, loud and unapologetic. My room’s a mess, but who gives a shit? It’s just me and this body tonight.
My hand slides lower, over my stomach, past the little patch of hair, and between my legs. It’s wet down there already, slick and hot, and the first touch makes me hiss. “Oh, hell yeah,” I growl, spreading my pussy lips with two fingers. It’s so damn sensitive—way more than my dick ever was. I explore the folds, feeling the heat, the slipperiness, and then I find my clit. One rough rub, and my hips jerk up off the bed. “Fuck, that’s the spot!”
I start working it with my thumb, fast and sloppy, because that’s how I like it—raw and messy. The pleasure hits like a punch, building fast, and I can’t keep quiet. “Yeah, fuck, come on,” I moan, my voice bouncing off the walls. My other hand’s still on my tit, tugging the nipple, rolling it between my fingers until it’s almost too much. These things are so heavy they pull me down, and it’s driving me wild.
James
I’m lying on my bed, a paperback open across my chest, but I haven’t read a word in the last ten minutes. My mind keeps drifting—to the way my body felt in the shower earlier, the unfamiliar curves under my hands, the weight of my breasts shifting as I moved. There’s a warmth growing between my legs, subtle but persistent, and I shift my thighs, trying to ease it. It doesn’t help. If anything, it gets worse—wetness seeping into my underwear, a quiet ache I can’t ignore.
I set the book aside and sit up, my heart beating a little faster. My hand hesitates, then slips down, brushing over the fabric of my shorts. I expect the bulge I’m used to, but there’s nothing—just flat, damp cotton. “Oh,” I whisper, the realization hitting me again. “I’m… different now.” I’m alone in my apartment, the door locked, the blinds drawn. No one’s here to judge me. Maybe it’s time to see what this body can do.
I stand and move to the full-length mirror by my closet, my bare feet silent on the hardwood. Slowly, I peel off my shirt, then my shorts, letting them drop to the floor. My reflection stares back—full D-cup breasts, a soft waist curving into wider hips, a smooth triangle of hair between my thighs. My pussy looks delicate, almost foreign, and my cheeks flush as I take it in. I’ve never looked at myself like this before.
My hands start at my breasts, cupping them gently. They’re warm, heavier than I expected, and when I brush my thumbs over my nipples, they tighten into stiff peaks. A soft gasp slips out—it’s sharp, electric, like a current running through me. I linger there, touching lightly, marveling at how sensitive they are. Each little pinch sends a pulse downward, connecting to that warmth below, and I feel my breath catch.
Sam
I’m getting into it now, my thumb grinding against my clit, my hips rocking up to meet every sloppy circle. My pussy’s soaked, dripping onto the sheets, and I don’t give a damn. I shove a finger inside myself, groaning at how tight it feels—hot and wet and gripping me like it doesn’t want to let go. “Fuck, yes,” I pant, pumping it in and out, then adding a second. It stretches me open, and the burn just makes it hotter.
I’m loud—grunting, moaning, the bed creaking under me—and I love it. This isn’t some quiet, polite bullshit; this is me, raw and horny as hell. My tits bounce every time I thrust my fingers, and I can feel the weight of them dragging me down, making every move more intense. I curl my fingers inside, searching for something, and when I hit a spot that makes my whole body twitch, I laugh. “Oh, you little fucker, there you are.”
But I need more. I want to see this shit—really see it. I roll off the bed, stumbling a little because my legs are already shaky, and position myself in front of the mirror on my closet door. I drop to my knees, then lean forward onto my hands—ass high in the air, tits hanging down, swaying with every breath. It’s the perfect doggy-style stance, and fuck, it’s hot. I reach under myself, threading my hand through the valley of my cleavage, my fingers brushing my nipples as I go. Then I slide them back into my pussy, watching the whole thing in the mirror.
“Holy shit,” I growl, grinning at my reflection. My ass is up, my massive tits swinging, my fingers pumping in and out—wet and shiny with my own slickness. It’s like I’m starring in my own porno, and I’m here for it. I thrust harder, curling my fingers against that sweet spot, and slap my ass with my free hand. The sting makes me clench, and I moan louder, my voice rough and desperate.
James
I ease my hands lower, tracing the dip of my stomach, the curve of my hips, until they hover between my thighs. My legs part slightly, and I watch in the mirror as my fingers brush my pussy for the first time. It’s warm, slick, and the lightest touch makes me shiver. I slide one finger along the slit, slow and careful, feeling the softness, the wetness that’s already there. It’s so different—delicate but intense—and my breath hitches.
I find my clit, swollen and tender, and press down gently. My knees wobble, a quiet “Oh” escaping my lips. I take my time, circling it with my fingertip, testing the pressure, the speed. It’s like learning an instrument—every note builds on the last, and I want to get it right. The pleasure is subtle at first, a warm hum spreading through me, but it deepens fast. I can hear the faint, wet sound of my fingers moving, and it makes my face burn even as it turns me on.
I slide a finger inside myself, tentative and slow. It’s tight, almost resistant, but so warm and inviting. I move it in and out, feeling the walls grip me, and it’s… intimate. Strange, but good. I add a second finger, stretching myself a little, and curl them slightly, exploring. When I brush a spot that makes my hips buck, I pause, then press again. A soft moan slips out, and I bite my lip, surprised by how loud it sounds in the quiet room.
My other hand stays on my clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles, and the two sensations start to weave together. My reflection shows my chest rising and falling faster, my lips parted, my eyes darkening with something I don’t recognize. I’m methodical, but my control’s slipping—my hips move on their own, chasing the feeling, and I let them.
Sam
I’m going hard now, my fingers slamming into my pussy, my thumb mashing my clit in messy, frantic circles. The mirror’s my front-row seat—my ass jiggling with every thrust, my tits bouncing like crazy, my face twisted up in pure, filthy pleasure. “Fuck, yeah, take it,” I snarl at my reflection, slapping my ass again. The crack echoes, and my pussy clamps down so tight I almost lose it right there.
I’m dripping everywhere—down my thighs, onto the floor—and the wet, slapping sounds are obscene. I love it. My fingers curl hard against that spot inside, and it’s like hitting a goddamn jackpot. My whole body locks up, trembling, and I can feel it coming—big, brutal, and unstoppable. “Come on, you little slut, give it to me,” I pant, my voice breaking.
The orgasm rips through me like a fucking explosion. “FUCK!” I yell, my pussy spasming around my fingers, my hips bucking wild. My tits swing forward as I collapse onto my elbows, ass still up, shuddering through the waves. It’s messy, loud, and leaves me wrecked—exactly how I like it. I pull my fingers out, grinning at the slick mess coating them, and flop onto my side right there on the floor.
“Goddamn,” I mutter, laughing weakly. My body’s buzzing, heavy, and my eyes are already drooping. I don’t even bother crawling back to the bed—just curl up, sticky and satisfied, and let sleep drag me under.
James
I’m deeper now, my fingers curling inside me, pressing that spot over and over while my thumb works my clit in tighter, faster circles. The pleasure’s building, steady and relentless, like a tide I can’t hold back. My breasts sway with every breath, my nipples brushing the air, sending little sparks through me. I’m moaning now—soft at first, then louder, the sounds spilling out before I can stop them.
My reflection’s a blur of flushed skin and parted lips, my hips rocking to meet my hands. I grip the edge of the mirror with my free hand, steadying myself as the sensations stack up, layer after layer. It’s intense, almost overwhelming, but I don’t stop—I can’t. My fingers move faster, slick and sure, and my clit throbs under my touch. “Oh God,” I gasp, my voice trembling.
It hits me all at once—a deep, shuddering orgasm that starts in my core and rolls outward, slow and powerful. “Ahh!” I cry out, my pussy pulsing around my fingers, my whole body shaking. My knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, riding it out, letting the waves crash through me until I’m spent. When it fades, I ease my fingers out, staring at the glistening evidence, my chest heaving.
I lean back against the bed, catching my breath, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Wow,” I murmur, my voice hoarse. My body feels heavy, sated, and exhaustion creeps in fast. I climb into bed, pulling the sheets over my sweaty skin, and curl up. Sleep takes me almost instantly, soft and deep, the memory of that release lingering as I drift off.
