How was I supposed to know that my girlfriend was a witch? Or about the curse that she had placed on me without my knowledge? If I had known that I would swap bodies with the next person I had sex with that wasn't her, I certainly wouldn't have cheated on her! It's not that I didn't love her, but she was out of town for the week visiting family when the most notorious campus slut, Amilia, invited herself over to my dorm room. One thing led to another, and before I could stop myself, I was already balls deep in her. I'll be the first to admit it was a major lapse in judgement, but I also can't deny that I had rubbed one out to the thought of that thick ass a number of times before.
By the time I woke up the next day at noon, the curse had already taken effect and that same ass was now attached to me. My body was nowhere to be found, leaving me alone in my familiar room with a very unfamiliar body. Trying desperately to ignore the plethora of minute sensations setting off alarm bells in my head, my first order of business was to get dressed. Deciding my usual articles of clothing would be too ill-fitting in a few choice areas of my new form, I opted instead to wear the same outfit Amilia had dropped by in. It was the more embarrassing option, but I didn't have much of a choice given the situation. Gathering the skimpy clothes from where they were haphazardly strewn across the floor during the rush to disrobe last night, I started with the less daunting of the two pieces of underwear. I grimaced as I held the soft fabric in my smaller hands, the reality I had been trying not to think too hard about finally hitting me all at once. I was about to put on Amilia's underwear, a fact not too surprising given that, for all intents and purposes, I was now Amilia. I was Amilia. The thought kept ringing in my head as I stared at the thong. No, I am Jon, I would mentally retort. But the reflection I came face-to-face with in the mirror when I woke up said otherwise. Even right then I was desperately avoiding looking at the breasts hanging on the edge of my field of vision, refusing to acknowledge them. But I could still feel them. And I knew putting on this piece of cloth would only solidify who I was. After all, only Amilia would wear Amilia's underwear, right? Certainly not Jon, with how clearly flat the crotch would be.
I was broken from my reverie when I caught a whiff of a faint scent emanating from the thong I had been clutching with white knuckles.
Oh, god.
I recognized that smell from last night, the same one that filled my nose as I enthusiastically ate out Amilia's pussy. It was the lingering scent of her arousal, accompanied by a now mostly dried up wet spot on the fabric. I wasn't sure if I had been blushing up to that point, but the heat rising in my cheeks was now impossible to ignore. Without thinking, I hurriedly stepped both dainty feet into the soiled undergarment and slid it up past those pillowy thighs I had my head buried between just hours prior. I felt the fabric settle perfectly against my mound, reunited with the original source of that pungent musk filling the room. As much as I hated to admit it, with the growing warmth in my tummy, my traitorous body was picking up right where it left off. As I bent down to retrieve the next article of clothing I could feel the fabric growing slick once again, just as it was when I first peeled it off of Amilia. Ironically, compared to my experience with the thong, the process of donning the bra went by much smoother. Using a trick mentioned off-hand by my girlfriend in the past, I hooked the band together in the front before spinning it around into its proper orientation. I never thought I would have any use for that information, but I couldn't exactly complain now. I put my arms through the straps and adjusted the cups, trying to focus on anything but the soft bags of flesh I was manhandling into place. The hardest part over, I quickly threw on the uncomfortably skimpy, white crop top and unimaginably short shorts. The deed finally done, I once again took stock of my reflection in the mirror, feeling much better about having a fully clothed Amilia staring back. Even if the fire raging between my thighs was somehow worse now.
Failing to find any clues as to where my body could have gone or what swapped us in the first place, I decided to instead investigate Amilia's dorm room down the hall. The only problem was facing the other guys on my floor who would no doubt be in the common area along the way. It was a Saturday afternoon, which meant everyone would be awake and recovering from the typical Friday night parties in preparation for much of the same tonight. I grabbed the door handle and steeled myself for what I would face on the other side. Taking a deep breath, I calmly opened the door and stepped out into the main living space. Just as I feared, all but a few of the guys on my floor were gathered on the couches and chairs surrounding the television Mark had brought in. Almost immediately, every groggy set of eyes was on me. I watched the hangovers seemingly disappear from their faces as they began hooting and hollering at my entrance. I realized exactly how it looked: Amilia emerging from some guy's room looking disheveled from a night of debauchery as had happened every weekend since she started college. Normally, she had enough sense and experience to time her exit when there were minimal people around. I, on the other hand, was lacking on both fronts and had to suffer the consequences. To any outside observer, I was the biggest slut on campus taking her walk-of-shame the morning after her most recent conquest. And unfortunately for me, they weren't wrong. I was thrust into this role against my will but was living that role all the same, forced to deal with the reputation Amilia set up for me.
My embarrassment only grew as I tried shuffling by, becoming increasingly self-conscious. I hadn't been aware of just how well that bra accentuated Amilia's tits until they were on display for everyone to see, especially given how clearly the lacy undergarment was visible through the tight top. The shorts were arguably even worse, exposing every inch of her smooth, milky legs and making her already incredible ass look even juicier. With every horny leer and misogynistic catcall, I was reminded of the fact that Amilia had done some sort of sexual act with most, if not all, of the boys in that room. I remember Mark telling me of how incredible her blowjobs were. I once overheard Tyson bragging about how he easily she came when he fingered her in the park. And then Dimitri trying to one-up him by describing how she would scream while bouncing on his cock. I was reminded of every one of these stories as I faced their thirsty looks and roaming eyes, hating every second of this objectification. However, once again this body wanting to do nothing else but betray me. As I recalled each tale of some sexual escapade Amilia took part in, so too did her body. My nipples tingled, remembering every pinch, tug, and nibble. The muscles in my plump ass tensed, waiting for the rough smacks and forceful grabs it had become accustomed to. And all the while, the drooling pussy I'd been cursed with begged for another round with the dicks it knew were so close.
I was completely overwhelmed with Amilia's arousal. I understood now just why she was so open with her sexual desires, and it had everything to do with her body's uncontrollable libido. I had been Amilia for no longer than an hour and already wanted to jump the next guy I saw. Despite every fiber of my being telling me to act on it, I was able to finally slip away and down the hall towards the girl's rooms. I thanked whatever higher power that left the door to Amilia's room unlocked and hurried inside. I slumped against her generic dorm room desk and caught my breath, absent-mindedly rubbing my burning crotch through the fabric of my shorts and thong. Before anything else, I had to take care of this.
My first story! Lemme know what ya think and hopefully I'll be back soon with Part 2 :^)