Sneaking inside

Chapter 3: Sneaking Inside

The two of them stood on the porch for a moment, taking each other in under the early morning light. They both looked horrid—bedhead, clothes wrinkled and disheveled from passing out outside all night. Jared’s hair (Jay Z’s hair) was a wild mess, half the bun fallen out and tangled around his face. One strap of her bra had slipped completely out from under the blue floral crop top, the cup askew and one tit nearly spilling free. Jared was sitting sprawled in the patio chair like he always did as a guy, legs spread wide, skirt ridden all the way up his thighs.

“Goddamn, this body feels so light,” Jared said casually in Jay Z’s voice, acting like it was still his normal one. He reached up and casually adjusted one of her breasts, squeezing it lightly as he stood. “Tits keep moving around every time I shift. Kinda bouncy. And this pussy… still sensitive from last night. Feels weird when I walk.”

Jay Z-in-Jared’s-body crossed his arms over his chest, looking annoyed. “Dude, stop touching my body like that. Seriously. You’ve been groping my tits and pussy since last night. It’s fucking weird watching you do that in my skin.”

Jared shrugged with a grin, still moving with his usual manly swagger. “Sorry, **** of habit. It’s my body right now. Feels good, honestly. Everything’s softer and more sensitive down there.” He took a few steps, deliberately swaying his hips a bit exaggeratedly, then reached down and gave the front of the skirt a quick rub. “See? Kinda turns me on.”

Jay Z groaned in Jared’s deep voice, rubbing his face. “I swear to God, if you keep feeling me up I’m gonna lose it. This whole thing is already messed up enough. My dick—your dick—keeps twitching and it’s distracting as hell. Everything feels heavy and bulky. My shoulders are wide, my hands are huge… how do you even jerk off with these sausage fingers? And smoking in this body is different too.”

Jared grabbed the pack of cigarettes mixed with weed, lit one, and took a deep, manly drag. The smoke hit Jay Z’s smaller lungs hard and he started coughing violently, his new tits jiggling wildly inside the crooked bra as he doubled over. “Fuck… these lungs are pathetic,” he wheezed, laughing through the coughs.

Jay Z snatched the cigarette from his fingers. “Gimme that. I smoke too, remember?” She took a drag in Jared’s body, coughing a little but managing better. “Even this feels weird. Deeper inhale, bigger chest. My heart’s pounding harder. This is so fucking strange, Jared. I can feel your balls hanging there. It’s constant.”

Jared straightened up, still casually touching Jay Z’s body—tucking the bra strap back in and smoothing the crop top over his breasts. “Relax, Jay Z. It’s just temporary. But yeah, this pussy’s wet again just from walking around. The skirt rubbing against it is driving me crazy. You gotta admit, it’s kinda hot in a weird way.”

“Stop. Talking. About. My. Pussy,” Jay Z snapped, glaring at him with Jared’s eyes. “I don’t want to change into your clothes either. This is too much. I feel like a giant awkward oaf.”

Jared grabbed his (Jared’s) arm firmly. “We have to, Jay Z. Until we figure out how to switch back, we gotta get used to it. Sara’s gonna wake up soon, and your lesbian friend is here. We can’t risk anyone finding out. ‘Jay Z’ can’t be walking around looking freshly fucked with her bra hanging out while ‘Jared’ is moving all feminine. Come on. Let’s sneak in, change, and act normal. We’ll lock the bedroom door, sort our shit out, and keep this between us. You trust me, right?”

She grumbled, still clearly annoyed every time Jared’s hands wandered over her curves, but followed him inside. Both of them tiptoed quietly through the house, the awkward tension thick between their swapped bodies as they headed toward the bedroom.