SwaParty Chapter 1

A Party where People can Swap Bodies with a kiss to forehead.

The Swaparty

Chapter 1

After considerable persuasion, bordering on emotional blackmail, Peter finally convinced his friend Ralph to accompany him to a club.


Just this evening, Peter had returned from a week-long vacation to find his roommate, Ralph, alone, surrounded by an accumulation of garbage and beer cans, drinking and crying. It turns out that two days after Peter's departure, Ralph and his three-year-old girlfriend, Sonya, had broken up. Ralph was devastated and had turned to alcohol as a coping mechanism.
Understanding the situation, Peter, in typical guy fashion, concluded there was only one solution for Ralph to move on: meet someone new! This is why Peter and Ralph now found themselves in the entry queue for the " Mra Club."


"Ugh, Peter, can't we just turn around...and go back? I'm not feeling confident enough to socialize, bro!" Ralph whispered as the queue steadily diminished.
"Don't worry, man! You just need to get back out there," Peter clapped Ralph on the back, ignoring the gloomy expression on his friend's face. "Look, it's a packed house tonight, you're bound to find someone interesting. Plus, the music is supposed to be awesome."


"Next!" the bouncer bellowed. Peter and Ralph shuffled forward. Two massive men, arms like tree trunks, filled the doorway. "Passes?" one grunted, his gaze sweeping over them, lingering a moment on Ralph's still-dismal face. Peter fumbled in his pocket, producing two VIP passes. The bouncer's expression softened slightly, a flicker of a smile. "Welcome to Swaparty," he said, stepping aside to let them in.
"Dude, those bouncers were like, actual mountains," Peter muttered, shaking his head slightly as they stepped past the imposing figures. "I thought they were going to turn us away just for you looking sad."


As the guys stepped in, they were stunned to see the club. Peter instantly pointed towards the dance stage where a bunch of women and couples were dancing. But their eyes only focused on two particular girls rubbing against each other.
The shorter one of them was a cute white petite redhair, with braided hairs, locking her eyes with the taller goth looking women,she was curvier and had black long hairs assisting her with tattoos and multiple piercings. Both felt polar opposite like a pair of fairy and devil.
"Woah! Look at them bro, I can bet they are just ' best friends' ." Peter joked about the two women, nudging Ralph. Ralph, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the scene. Peter sighed, realizing his friend was still stuck in his gloom. "Come on, let's get a drink," Peter suggested, pulling Ralph towards the bar.


Ralph, still messed up over his breakup with Sonya, pushed through the packed dance floor toward the bar, his head a mess of memories. As he squeezed through the crowd, he bumped hard into a woman rushing by. Her dancer's outfit--a tight silver bodysuit with black mesh cutouts--hugged her slim, toned body, showing off her full, perky breasts that pressed against the fabric. Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, a few loose strands sticking to her flushed face, giving her a wild, carefree vibe. She stumbled a bit, her eyes wide and hurried. "Sorry!" she blurted, her voice quick and sharp, before she took off toward the VIP rooms, disappearing behind the velvet curtains. Ralph's annoyance flared, but the quick glimpse of her curves and confident strut stuck with him, sparking something he couldn't quite shake.
Soon after reaching the bar, Peter was already in a good mood, leaning over the shiny counter to get the bartender's attention. "Two whiskeys, neat!" he called, shooting a grin at Ralph, who slouched against the bar, still thrown off by the collision. The bartender turned around, and both guys stopped dead, totally stunned by how gorgeous she was. Her big, almond-shaped eyes seemed to pull you in, framed by thick lashes. Her high cheekbones and full lips, shiny with gloss, curved into a small, easy smile. Her dark hair fell in soft waves, pinned back loosely so it wouldn't get in her way while she worked. The bartender's uniform--a fitted black vest and crisp white shirt--showed off her slim, curvy figure with a good amount of cleavage to attract some customers. She moved smoothly and confidently, like she owned the place.
"Man," Peter whispered, nudging Ralph. "She's hot, dude. Like, crazy hot." Ralph just nodded, his eyes stuck on her as she poured their drinks with quick, sure hands. "Yeah, whatever" he mumbled.
Peter laughed, grabbing his whiskey and holding it up like a toast. "To forgetting your ex and finding some fun," he said, clinking his glass against Ralph's. But Ralph's eyes wandered, catching someone across the room. A Milf, older but super confident, was working her way through the crowd. Her tight red dress hugged her full curves, and her bold makeup screamed she was here to be noticed. She was flirting hard with some younger guys, laughing loud and touching one of their arms. But they just smirked and brushed her off, and her whole vibe changed. She walked over to a cushy couch in a quieter corner, slumping down with a sad look, staring at the floor.
Ralph watched her, his chest tightening. The way she sat there, playing with a strand of her hair, hit him hard. She looked like she felt the same way he did--betrayed, rejected, alone. He wanted to go talk to her, to share that feeling of being pushed aside. His whiskey sat there, untouched, as he felt a pull toward this stranger, both of them hurting in the middle of the noisy club.
Peter smirked, shaking his head. "Well, damn, bro," he muttered as Ralph stood up, flashing a quick smile. "Guy says he's stuck, and now he's making moves." Ralph walked toward the woman's couch, checking if she'd notice him. Her eyes flicked up as he got close, a shy smile crossing her face, quick and nervous, before she looked down, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She fiddled with her glass, like she thought he was heading somewhere else.
"Hey," Ralph said, keeping his voice friendly and easy. "Mind if I sit here? I'm Ralph." He gave a warm grin, settling onto the couch without crowding her. "Looks like we're both hiding out from the party."
She blinked, her cheeks flushing as she looked up. "Oh, um, sure," she said softly, her voice shy. "I'm Freya." She fidgeted with her drink, her eyes darting away, but a small smile stayed, like she was okay with him being there.
Ralph leaned back, keeping things light. "So, Freya, what're you drinking tonight?" he asked, nodding at her glass. "Figured I'd get something else after this whiskey. Any recommendations?"
Freya's smile grew a bit, her shyness easing. "Just a vodka soda," she said, holding up her glass. "Keeps it simple. What about you? Planning to stick with whiskey, or you gonna order something crazy like a Jerbomb?" Her eyes twinkled with a playful jab, her voice teasing.
Ralph laughed, caught off guard. "Jerbomb? Nah, come on, I'm not that guy," he said, grinning. "What, you think I'm some teenager trying to show off?"
Freya giggled, loosening up. "I don't know, Ralph, you've got that vibe," she teased, tucking her hair back again. "Next thing you know, you'll be ordering a round of those and challenging everyone to chug."
Ralph shook his head, still chuckling. "Okay, okay, you got me pegged wrong. I'm more of a 'sip slow and look cool' type. But now you're making me curious--what's the wildest drink you've ever had here?"
She thought for a second, her smile turning mischievous. "Oh, probably this neon-green thing with way too much rum. Tasted like candy and regret," she said, laughing softly. "You gonna step up and try something like that, or you sticking to safe stuff?"
"Safe stuff?" Ralph said, leaning forward with a mock-offended look. "I'll have you know I'm adventurous. Maybe I'll order us something wild, and you can tell me if I'm still acting like a teenager." He winked, keeping the vibe light and friendly.
Before Freya could reply, the club's energy shifted. The lights dimmed, then snapped to the stage, and the crowd went nuts, cheering loud. A woman strutted out, her sleek black dress hugging her curves, her dark hair falling in waves. Her confident smile lit up the room--it was Priyanka Chopra, wife of Nick Jonas, a Bollywood superstar turned global icon. She waved, grabbing the mic. "Welcome to Swaparty! I'm Priyanka, your host tonight, and we're about to make this party one for the books!"
Peter's jaw hit the floor, his drink forgotten. "No freaking way," he muttered, nudging the guy next to him. "Priyanka Chopra? Here? Hosting?" He couldn't wrap his head around a star like her being at a club like this.
But Ralph and Freya didn't notice, too caught up in their chat. Ralph was still grinning, enjoying Freya's teasing. "So, you gonna help me pick a drink, or am I stuck proving I'm not a Jerbomb guy?" he asked, his tone playful.
On stage, Priyanka's voice boomed again. "Like our past parties, we've got a theme tonight, and it's a fun one--Swaparty! Here's how it works: a quick kiss on the forehead, and you can swap bodies with someone for the night. Live a little as someone else!" The crowd roared, some laughing, others buzzing with excitement. "Staff can't play, though," she added with a smirk. "And we've got more celebs like me in the VIP chambers--staff-only access, heavily guarded. So, let's get this party going!" She blew a kiss and headed off toward the VIP area, the crowd still hyped.
Peter frowned, totally lost. "Swap bodies? What's that about?" he muttered, glancing around. He had no clue the club did themed parties like this before, and it sounded like a weird joke to him. But as he scanned the crowd, his eyes widened at the chaos unfolding. People were pairing up, giggling and leaning in close, pressing quick kisses to each other's foreheads. A woman nearby, her tight dress barely containing her, cupped her breasts with a wild laugh, shouting, "Oh, this is nuts! I'm her now!" A couple of guys stumbled past, one grabbing his crotch with a confused grin, muttering, "Yo, this feels... different." Peter's jaw dropped, his whiskey forgotten as he tried to make sense of it. Was everyone actually swapping bodies, or was this some kind of drunk party game gone wild?
Ralph and Freya, though, didn't hear a thing. Freya was laughing, shaking her head. "Okay, Ralph, I'll pick a drink for you, but no promises it won't be bright green," she said, her shyness fading as she leaned a little closer, her smile bright.Freya felt her heart racing, her cheeks warm as she laughed at Ralph's easy chatter. She was soaking up his company, the way his grin made her feel lighter, like her loneliness wasn't so heavy. But a nagging thought hit her--she was older than him, by a good bit. What if he just saw her as a friend? What if she let herself fall for him and messed up this easy vibe they had? She pulled back a bit, her smile fading as she told herself not to push too far, not to ruin what felt like a new friendship.
Before they could change the topic, Peter showed up, weaving through the crowd, his face a mix of confusion and excitement. He plopped down next to Ralph, still processing the chaos he'd seen. "Yo, Ralph, you hear that thing about the Swaparty?" he said, keeping it vague, his eyes darting to Freya. "This place is wild, man."
Ralph shrugged, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Swaparty? Sounds like some gimmick. I'm just here for the drinks and the vibes," he said, not bothering to dig deeper. He turned to Freya with a grin. "Oh, hey, this is my best friend, Peter. Peter, meet Freya. She's trying to roast my drink choices."
Peter chuckled, shaking Freya's hand. "Nice to meet you. Don't let this guy fool you--he's got no taste in liquor," he said, winking. But his eyes lingered on Freya, catching the way she smiled at Ralph, like she was holding something back.
Freya's face lit up at the word "Swaparty," her shyness giving way to excitement. "Oh, I love these parties!" she said, her voice picking up. "They always have these crazy magical themes. I've been to a bunch--there was one where you could see people's auras, another where you could change your voice for the night. Swaparty's one of the best, though--" She stopped herself, her cheeks flushing as she realized she might be saying too much. What if Ralph thought she was some party-obsessed weirdo? She didn't want to ruin the sweet, friendly vibe they had going.
Ralph grinned, oblivious. "Sounds like a lot," he said, brushing it off. "I'm not into all that fancy stuff. I'm just trying to pick a drink that doesn't make me look like I'm in college." He stood up, chuckling. "Alright, I'm hitting the bar to grab us something good. No Jerbombs, I swear," he joked, winking at Freya before heading off.
Peter watched him go, then turned to Freya, noticing the way her smile faded. "So, uh, you okay?" he asked, his tone still a bit formal, not sure how open she'd be with a stranger. "You looked like you were about to say more about those parties." Freya hesitated, her fingers twisting around her glass. She glanced at Ralph's retreating figure, her voice dropping. "It's nothing," she said quietly. "I just... I thought Ralph might be interested, but he's not. He's just being nice to me, isn't he? I'm too old for him. He's probably not into me like that." Peter's eyes softened, and he leaned in, his tone warming up. "Hey, hold up, that's not true. I'm Ralph's best friend--I know the guy. He's not blowing you off. He's just clueless sometimes, especially after his ex messed him up. He was listening, he's just... distracted. Trust me, he's into talking to you." Freya shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know, Peter. I really like him, but I'm older. He probably wants someone his age, not me. I don't want to get my hopes up." Peter frowned, leaning closer, his tone now fully friendly. "Nah, you're wrong. Ralph's not that shallow. He's having a good time with you, I can tell. He's just slow to catch feelings after his breakup. Give him a chance."
Freya fidgeted with her glass, her voice low and frustrated as she glanced at Peter. "You're Ralph's best friend, so of course you're gonna talk him up, make him sound like this great guy who's just slow to catch feelings," she said, her tone laced with doubt. "But I'm older, Peter. He's not into me--he's just being nice, and I'm reading too much into it." Peter leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Look, Freya, if you were Ralph's best friend, you'd know better," he said, his voice firm but warm. "I've known him forever. He's not blowing you off--he's just a dumbass about feelings since his ex screwed him over. Trust me, he's into you, even if he's too thick to show it yet."








Freya's eyes drifted to Ralph at the bar, her heart racing with doubt but also a spark of hope, and an idea hit her from the Swaparty theme she'd seen before. "What if... I swapped bodies with you?" she said, her voice shaky. "I've been to these parties--this place makes magic happen. I could see what Ralph really thinks through you, his best friend, just for a bit, to know if I'm wasting my time." Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Swap bodies? Yeah, right, that's just some party gag," he said, grinning like it was a big joke. "But sure, go for it, kiss my forehead or whatever. Let's see if this magic's real." Freya hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "Okay, but you better not do anything weird with my body, like... naughty stuff," she said, her tone half-serious, half-nervous. Peter waved it off, still laughing. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not that guy," he said, clearly not taking it seriously. Before he could say more, Freya leaned in, her heart pounding, and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, a faint tingle sparking as the world around them blurred.