Misty’s eyes fluttered open, still heavy from the lingering waves of pleasure that had just rocked her borrowed body. The scent of her own fluids was potent in the air, a testament to the raw ecstasy she had just experienced. She stretched, her perky breasts jiggling delightfully, the soft give of her thighs feeling utterly natural now. This was Misty, but it was him. The thought, "I've been in her too long," flitted through her mind, a sudden urge to return to his own form.
With a grunt of effort, she pushed herself up, her limbs feeling light and surprisingly strong. She found the costume gun lying on the floor where she'd dropped it. He could just… slip out.
Slowly, deliberately, Ash began to extract himself. He started with the eyes, pulling his consciousness from the depths of Misty’s green irises, then his tongue from the soft, wet cavern of her mouth. Her face seemed to sag momentarily, the vivid life draining from it. A strange, squelching sound accompanied the withdrawal of his skull from her cranium, like pulling a ripe fruit from its skin. Her head deflated with a hiss, the red hair flattening against the limp skull.
Next came the arms. He flexed his fingers within hers one last time, feeling the delicate bones, before slowly withdrawing his hands from her palms, then his forearms, until his shoulders popped free. Misty’s arms went slack, her DD breasts losing their perky firmness, becoming like empty sacks. A hot, musky steam poured from the emptying cavities. The whole process was sensually disturbing, yet utterly captivating.
Finally, he disengaged his legs. He pulled his feet from her feet, his calves from her calves, his thighs from her thighs. The soft, round ass he had so admired earlier collapsed into a wrinkled, flaccid mass. With a final, wet slurp, Ash pulled himself free.
He stood there, naked and transformed back into his own body – no longer bulky with feminine curves, but lean and male once more. His own dick, still throbbing, pulsed against his inner thigh. Before him lay the deflated, hollow skin of Misty, crumpled on the floor, an empty shell. Her eyes were blank white, her mouth a gaping hole, her entire form a pale, lifeless canvas.
Ash stared down at the husk of his girlfriend, a strange mix of triumph and something else he couldn't quite name swirling within him. He still held the costume gun. He knew what he had to do. He pointed the device at the limp form on the floor and pressed the trigger.
A vibrant green beam of light enveloped Misty’s deflated skin. Her eyes instantly snapped open, regaining their familiar emerald hue, though glazed with confusion. Her body, still an empty sack, began to swell rapidly, like an inflatable doll being filled with air. Her DD breasts popped back into their perky fullness, her hips rounded out, her thighs thickened, and her fine ass reformed, firm and round once more. With a final, deep gasp, Misty’s body was whole again, her chest rising and falling with renewed breath.
Her eyes snapped into focus, glaring up at Ash. Her voice was sharp, laced with a fury that made him flinch. "You… you pervert! What the hell was that, Ash?!" She struggled to sit up, her movements still a little wobbly. "I was aware! The whole damn time! Every single… touch! Every… gasp! You were in my body, Ash! How could you be so incredibly rude?!" She scrambled to cover herself with her arms, though her clothes were still a crumpled mess around her.
Ash took a step back, his face paling. "M-Misty! I… I'm so sorry! I didn't think… I didn't know you could feel it! I just… I just wanted to see what it was like!" He stammered, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Get out!" she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at the door. "Get out of here right now, you creep!"
Ash didn't hesitate. "Okay! Okay, I'm going!" He quickly snatched his own scattered clothes from the floor, pulled them on, and sprinted out of the room, still muttering apologies as he disappeared. The costume gun lay discarded on the polished floor.
Misty watched him go, her chest heaving. "Idiot," she muttered, her voice trembling, though a strange flush lingered on her cheeks. She looked down at her nude body, still feeling the phantom echoes of his presence, the scandalous, intimate invasion. A shiver ran through her, not entirely of disgust. "He's such an idiot," she repeated, her fingers tentatively tracing the outline of her breasts, "but… it was… exciting. Too exciting. And… I'm still horny." A soft moan escaped her lips as her fingers dropped lower, ghosting over her clit. The residual sensations were overwhelming.
With a shake of her head, Misty pushed herself up, her movements still a little wobbly. She found her crumpled clothes – her short-shorts and yellow crop top – and began to dress, her fingers fumbling with the fabric. The material felt surprisingly sensual against her reawakened skin, each movement a reminder of the raw physical experience she had just endured. She pulled on her shorts, the tight denim clinging to her newly reformed, still-sensitive ass, then slipped on her crop top, the fabric brushing her perky DD breasts. She tied her hair into its familiar sideways ponytail, still feeling a slight thrumming in her scalp.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her. Before she could react, strong hands clamped down on her shoulders from behind, immobilizing her. Misty’s eyes widened in fear, snapping up to meet the gaze of a familiar face.
"Brock?!" she gasped, terror replacing lust.
He smirked, his eyes raking over her now-clothed form with a predatory gleam. He held up the costume gun, which Ash, in his hasty exit, had left on the floor. "I saw everything, Misty," Brock said, his voice low and gravelly. "And now… I want to give it a try."
He aimed the green-glowing device straight at her, and Misty let out a terrified scream as the beam enveloped her once more.
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