SwaParty Ch-2

A Party where people can swap bodies with a simple kiss to forehead.

The Swaparty

Chapter 2
The First Swap

The second Freya's lips touched Peter's forehead, a weird buzz shot through him, like a jolt that made the Mra Club's lights flicker. His vision went pitch black, his eyes somehow closed despite being wide open when Freya kissed him.
Peter slowly opened his eyes, realizing he was the one with his lips pressed against a forehead, standing on his toes to reach the height. He eased back, heart pounding, and saw a tall figure towering over him--his own body, with Freya's wide, knowing eyes and a sly smirk looking down.
"Whoa, you okay in there, Peter?" his own voice echoed, familiar yet strange, coming from his body but with Freya's cadence. "I know, first swap's kinda dizzy, but you'll get the hang of it. I've done this tons of times at these parties , Just try to stand straight."

Things started to clear, and Peter's jaw dropped as the reality hit--he was in Freya's body. He glanced down, seeing her tight red dress hugging curves he didn't recognize, a deep cleavage staring back, her double D breasts snug in a bra, giving him a feeling of unease, also a high slit exposing his left thigh to a chilly breeze. Long, dark hair tickled his shoulders, and his hands--now smaller, with painted nails--hovered shakily.
"This is... real?" he stammered, his voice high and feminine, making him wince.
I'm....I am you?" He asked, feeling the thong's odd fit, the heels wobbling under him, and the dress clinging tight.
Freya, in Peter's body, chuckled, adjusting his broader shoulders. "Yeah, it's real. Just don't go feeling yourself up, okay?" she teased, her tone sharp but playful.
Despite Freya's playful warning, Peter's hands shot up instinctively, cupping his new double D breasts, the weight and softness under the tight red dress sending a jolt of shock through him. "Whoa," he muttered, his feminine voice high and unsteady, still grappling with the reality. Freya, in Peter's body, didn't miss a beat--she swatted his hand lightly, but the hit stung more than he expected.
"Oww! That hurts!" Peter winces, realizing how much smaller and more fragile he felt in his new body.
"I said, behave," Freya scolded, her tone sharp but teasing, her smirk now on Peter's face. "You're me now, so act like it. I'm gonna play your part as Ralph's best friend and find out if he's got any feelings for me--well, for you right now. Just follow my lead and don't mess this up." Peter opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, Ralph strolled back from the bar, three drinks balanced in his hands, his grin wide and clueless. "Alright, Freya, Peter, got us some proper drinks--no Jerbombs, I promise," he said, handing a glass to Peter, thinking he was Freya, and another to Freya, treating her as Peter.


Freya, used to these swaps from past parties, thought it's better to crack a sexual joke to slide into Peter's role like a pro, giving Ralph a casual nod. "Nice pick, man. These drinks are legit--Keep bringing her drinks like this and the only thing left to swallow tonight won't be in this glass." she said, her tone nailing Peter's laid-back vibe but with a sly edge, ready to dig for Ralph's true feelings about her.
Ralph's cheeks flushed, and he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yo, chill, don't talk like that, man," he said, glancing at Peter, who he thought was Freya. "You're gonna make Freya uncomfortable." Peter, still wobbling in Freya's heels, clutching the drink with shaky, manicured hands, was caught off guard.
"Shit! What would Freya say?" panicked Peter thought as he leaned in a bit too close, his hand brushing Ralph's arm as he said, "Nah man......uh....you're too sweet to make anyone uncomfortable!" his feminine voice soft and high ending with a girly giggle and a shy nervous smile spreading across his face, amplified by Freya's natural charm, making the gesture seem flirty.

Ralph blinked, surprised, thinking Freya was coming on strong, and he needed to top that reply.Ralph hesitated at first, then slid a hand around Peter's waist.
Peter's eyes widened, a jolt of panic hitting him as he realized what he'd done. "Oh, crap," he muttered under his breath, his heart racing in Freya's body, the tight red dress and heels making him feel exposed as Ralph's hand rested on his waist, totally unaware he was flirting with his best friend. Peter took a glance at Ralph's face and Ralph was trying hard to play it cool continuing the talk with fake Peter.

Freya, in Peter's body, was floored, her jaw nearly dropping. What the hell? He's making me sound like some flirty party bimbo! she thought, but damn, she was impressed with Peter's accidental game.
He knows his boy, she laughed to herself , watching Ralph's hand on Peter's waist. Meanwhile she managed to keep the chat with Ralph smooth, thinking of a way to make Ralph take another step closer to her real self.
Right then, the DJ's voice cut through, calling all couples for a slow, romantic dance. Ralph's eyes lit up, and he turned to Peter. "Hey, Freya, wanna hit the dance floor?" he asked, his grin hopeful.
Peter's heart skipped, panic flooding him--Dance? As a chick? With Ralph? His face twisted into a nervous grimace. Ralph caught it and chuckled. "Swear I didn't plan this, We can skip it and grab some Jerbombs instead if you're not down." he joked.
Freya, in Peter's body, wasn't letting this chance pass. "What? No way!" she snapped, shooting Peter a death stare that screamed don't screw this up. "You two should go--the stage is full of boring couples. Make it fun!"
Ralph hesitated, not wanting to push. "I don't know, Pete, Freya's not feeling it--" he started, but stopped when Peter, in Freya's body, grabbed his hand, looking up with a shaky smile.
"I think....we should do it," Peter said, his voice trembling. He was doing this for Freya, hoping to help Ralph move on from Sonya. Just a dance, he told himself, letting Ralph lead him to the floor, the tight dress and heels making every step feel like a wild leap.
Peter's heart was pounding hard, as Ralph led him toward the dance floor, he could feel Ralph's warm hand, steady hand wrapped around his--well, Freya's--smaller, manicured one, the painted nails catching the neon lights of the Mra Club.
Every step was a wild trip, like he was stumbling through some fever-dream funhouse. Walking in Freya's body or rather in a female body was straight-up bizarre--He could feel her inner thighs brushing together with every stride, soft and unfamiliar, making him hyper-aware of not having Jr Peter down there.
The high slit of her tight red dress left his left thigh bare, the cool club air hitting his skin like a tease, making him feel damn near naked, like everyone could see way more than he was ready for.
Those heels? Absolute torture. They pinched his feet like nobody's business, each wobbly step shooting pain up his calves, forcing his hips to sway in a way that made his ass shake--way more than he'd ever admit felt kinda wild. And Freya's double D breasts, snug in that bra, bounced with every move, the weight tugging at his chest, tempting him to grab them just to stop the jiggle even making him wonder what it'd be like if someone else did.

What the fuck Am I thinking!? Get it together, PETER! he thought. Peter was so caught up in the sensory overload--that he didn't notice they'd hit the crowded dance floor until Ralph snapped his fingers right in front of his face. "Yo, Freya, you good?" Ralph asked, his voice gentle but laced with a curious grin, totally clueless that he was talking to his best friend trapped in Freya's body.
Peter blinked, yanked back to reality and looked around him, the bluey-magenta light slowly fading and coming back, the DJ's slow, sultry beat pulsing through the air, couples already swaying around them. Ralph, playing the gentleman, slid both hands onto Peter's waist, the touch warm and steady through the thin fabric of the dress, making Peter's pulse spike even harder. Trying not to topple in those damn heels, Peter draped his slender arms around Ralph's shoulders, his manicured hands feeling alien as they rested there, the tight dress hugging every curve like a second skin. His mind was screaming--I'm slow-dancing with my bro in a chick's body!--as he tried to keep it together, praying this gets over ASAP!
Peter's head was spinning as he and Ralph swayed on the dance floor, their bodies so damn close that Freya's double D breasts were barely a whisper from Ralph's chest.The height difference was screwing with him--Ralph towering over him in Freya's shorter frame made him feel small and vulnerable , like he was slipping into some romantic movie role he didn't audition for. Ralph, nervous as hell but looking like he'd just found his soulmate, leaned in closer, his hands shaky but steady on Peter's waist, his voice soft and stumbling with hope. "Freya, I... I look at these couples dancing, and I keep thinking about you," he said, his eyes locked on Peter's.
My ex, Sonya, she... she broke me after 3 years, you know? Always fighting, tearing me apart. But you're so different, so kind. I can see us together, like... forever, maybe a house, a life where we're happy every day. Do you... do you ever think about that with someone like me?" Peter's gut twisted, his brain screaming to run--I'm your damn bro, not your......your future!--but Ralph's nervous, heartfelt words hit something deep, and Freya's body was pulling him in, her softness making him feel all warm and fuzzy.
"Ralph, I... it's no big deal, you're just talking dreams," he mumbled, his voice soft and breathy in Freya's high pitch, trying to shrug it off like it didn't matter because I am not actually Freya. But a shy smile crept across his face, and he couldn't help it. "Still, you make it sound... kinda perfect," he added, his words slipping from his mouth as his expression changes like did I actually say that?
"You too can imagine that right? Just us two in a Big House spending our lives side by side" Ralph said, closing the distance between them, his hard chest pressing on with Peter's breasts, his hands reaching Peter's neck as he tucks a strand of hair behind Peter's ear and they both stare in each other's eyes.
A warm tingle spread through Peter, not just a tingle between his legs but a glow in his chest, like Ralph's shaky, heartfelt words were tugging at something deep. He wanted to chase away hurthe hurt Sonya had left behind, to make Ralph feel okay again.
Ralph brings his face closer, so does Peter, their faces drifted more closer, lips almost touching, Peter's heart racing as he started to lean in, ready to ease Ralph's pain-until Peter caught sight of a really familiar redhead in the crowd behind Ralph, grinding with some random guy, her sharp smirk cutting through the DJ's slow, sultry beat.
Peter jerked back, wanting a better look of that woman, Ralph froze, his hands still on Peter's neck, his sweet, loverboy glow fading fast. "Freya... what was that?" he stammered, completely thrown.



"Hold up, Ralph," Peter muttered, his high-pitched voice shaky, Peter, pushed forward through the crowd, through people, he even felt his ass grabbed by a random dude but decided to ignore and continued as he got closer to the direction of the redhead.
"Holy Shit!" It was Sonya, no doubt--rocking a tiny, black dress so short it barely covered her ass, grinding it right up against the guy's front, her C-cup cleavage spilling out, practically hanging free, her smudged mascara screaming she'd just been up to some serious shit, like she'd blown someone in the bathroom or worse. Ralph trailed behind, confusion all over his face, mumbling, "Freya, why you actin' so weird?" until his eyes landed on Sonya too.
Peter's instantly back to being Ralph's bro Yo, Ralph, chill, she ain't worth it," he said, his feminine voice too gentle, reaching for Ralph's arm to calm him down, but Ralph just stared, lost in his hurt and his face crumpled, tears welling up as that old depression from her toxic bullshit hit him like a truck.
Before Peter could get another word out to calm Ralph's teary-eyed mess, a sharp tap on his shoulder made him nearly jump out of Freya's skin. He spun around, heart still racing, and came face-to-face with a young Black woman rocking tight braids and a sleek trench coat--probably hiding some wild, barely-there outfit underneath, judging by the way she carried herself with that club-ready confidence. She flashed a huge grin, her eyes lighting up like she'd just found her bestie. "Oh my Gawd, Girl, Freya, it's you!" she said, voice all hyped and loud over the Mra Club's pulsing beat. "Girl, remember the last party? We swapped and had a fuckin' blast--dancing, shots, the whole deal!Come on! We gotta catch up, I barely remember a thing babe!"



Peter took a glanced back, desperate to find Ralph, to make sure his bro was okay after spotting Sonya's smug ass in the crowd, but Ralph was gone, swallowed up by the sea of dancing bodies under the neon lights. "Fuck," Peter muttered under his breath, his high-pitched voice sounding way too delicate, his heart sinking in Freya's chest. "Hun' you okay, who was that stud?" The woman asked Peter . Peter wanted to bolt after Ralph, to fix whatever pain was eating at him, but this woman's grin and her tight grip on his arm made it clear she wasn't letting go. What if she's, like, Freya's ride-or-die or some shit? he thought, panic creeping in. If I ditch her, I could screw up Freya's friendship, and she'll kill me when we swap back. Stuck with no real choice, he plastered on a fake-ass smile, trying to channel Freya's smooth charm. "Nothing muc...Girl, yeah, totally, let's... catch up," he said, his voice all high and girly, stumbling over the words as he forced a laugh. The woman tugged him toward the bar, his hips swaying too naturally in Freya's body, glancing back one last time for Ralph, his mind a hot mess of worry for his friend and whatever the hell this body was making him feel.



MEANWHILE WITH Freya AS PIYUSH
Freya, stuck in Peter's Manly-ass body, smirked to herself as she watched Peter--in her body--get dragged to the dance floor with Ralph, her death stare still burning in her mind from when she'd pushed them to go. Let's see how he handles that shit, she thought, feeling a rush of mischief. But now, alone in the pulsing chaos of the Mra Club, she figured it was time to have some fun with this dude body. Bet I can slam drinks like a champ in this thing, she thought, curious about Peter's drinking strength.
His body was a trip--no curves, no boobs weighing her down, just a flat chest and a weird bulge in his jeans that felt so damn strange, like she was packing something extra she didn't know how to handle. His taller frame made her feel like she was towering over half the crowd, and his short, messy hair didn't tickle her neck like hers always did, which was kinda nice but threw her off. His broader shoulders shifted with a heavy, solid stride as she pushed through the sweaty crowd, his deeper voice rumbling in her throat when she muttered, "Fuck, this is weird."
She reached the bar, the neon lights bouncing off the bottles, and leaned in, flashing a cocky grin. "Yo, gimme the hardest liquor you got--whiskey, straight up," she said, nailing Peter's chill vibe. The bartender, the same curvy chick with the same flirty smirk, leaned forward, her top showing just enough to catch attention. "Damn, big guy, you sure you can handle that?" she teased, batting her eyes as she slid the glass over, her fingers brushing his. Freya instantly pulled her hand back making the bartender feel guilty, froze for a second, then laughed it off. "Nah, I'm good, just pour the drink," she said, shutting it down quickly, her mind still wired for Ralph, not ready to play Peter's part that way.
But as she took a swig, the whiskey burning her throat, it hit her--Shit, what if that was Peter's shot at a girlfriend? Her eyes widened, guilt creeping in. Peter was out there, stuck in her body, playing wingman to get her with Ralph, taking one for the team. Fuck, he's bustin' his ass for me and Ralph, she thought, swirling the drink. I gotta return the favor, hook him up or somethin'. She scanned the bar, wondering how she could play matchmaker in this dude body, her mind racing with ideas as the whiskey kicked in.
Freya leaned back over the bar, the whiskey's burn still hot in her throat, trying to catch the bartender's eye again. "Yo, hey, about that drink, you got anything else strong?" she said, flashing Peter's cocky grin, hoping to spark something again for him. But the bartender, all curves and attitude, just rolled her eyes and turned away, wiping down glasses like Freya was invisible. Damn, cold shoulder much? she thought, her broad shoulders slumping in Peter's frame, his heavy stride feeling clunky as she stepped back.

Her eyes scanned the Mra Club's neon-lit chaos, landing on a waitress weaving through the crowd--Katrina, her name tag read. She was cute as hell, petite with a tight ponytail, red lipstick popping, rocking a mini skirt uniform that hugged her small frame, showing just enough leg to turn heads. Now that's a decent chick for Peter, Freya thought, figuring she could play matchmaker. She pushed through the crowd, Peter's tall frame cutting through easy, his short hair a relief after her usual long locks. "Hey, Katrina, right? You servin' tonight or just lookin' that good?" she said, nailing Peter's chill vibe.
Katrina raised an eyebrow, her red lips curling into a teasing smirk, playing hard to get. "Oh, please, big guy, you think you can just roll up with that smooth talk?" she shot back, crossing her arms, her eyes glinting with mischief as she turned like she was gonna walk away. Freya, caught off guard, felt Peter's heart kick up, but she wasn't backing down. "Come on, don't play me like that," she said, stepping closer, his long legs making it easy to keep up. Katrina glanced back, her smirk widening, and gave a little nod toward a secluded corner by the bar, away from the pulsing neon lights and thumping music. "Alright, maybe you're worth a sec," she teased, leading the way with a sway that screamed trouble. Freya followed, Peter's heavy stride feeling clunky but confident, her mind racing with how to sell this for Peter. In the dim corner, Katrina spun around, leaning in close, her voice dropping all flirty. "You're kinda cute for a tall dude, you know that?" she said, her red lips inches away, her small hand brushing Peter's arm, sending a jolt through Freya. Damn, she's good, Freya thought, her confidence spiking in Peter's body, feeling like she was killing it.
Katrina tilted her head, her ponytail bouncing, and lowered her voice even more. "Wanna make this night wild? Like, really wild? What if we... swapped bodies, just for kicks? Bet you'd have fun in this little frame," she said, running a hand down her mini skirt, her eyes daring Freya to bite.
Freya froze, Peter's deep voice catching in her throat. What? I believe the staff ain't supposed to swap, right? she thought, knowing the club's strict rules. Before she could shut it down, Katrina leaned up, planting a quick kiss on her forehead. A dizzy rush hit, and suddenly Freya was staring up at herself--well, Peter's body--from Katrina's tiny frame.
Her new body felt light as hell, the tight waitress uniform squeezing her small waist, her high-pitched voice now even squeakier than Freya's. Katrina, now in Peter's body, flexed his arms, grinning wide. "Fuck, I needed this," she said, her voice deep in Peter's throat.
"My life's been shit--low tips, long hours. Now I'm a dude, packing as well!" She laughed, grabbing her crotch, thinking Freya is the dude she swapped with. Freya, wobbling in Katrina's tiny body, tried to protest, "Yo, you can't just--" but Katrina cut her off, stepping close, her new height looming. "Keep quiet! You are not a guy anymore, and go be a stupid little waitress slut! or I'll make this messy," she snapped, her tone hard, dominating the space.
She strutted back to the bar, acting like a total dude, flashing Peter's grin at the bartender, who was her boss. Freya, desperate not to lose Peter's body, followed, her ponytail bouncing, Katrina's small feet tripping in the tight shoes. "That's not me! She's in my--his body--My Friend's body!!" Freya stammered, her squeaky voice stumbling over words, sounding like a nervous wreck.
The crowd barely listened, and Katrina played it cool, acting like a regular guy head back towards the bartender. "This chick's tryna swap against the rules, should i raise a complaint against your staff?" Katrina said, pointing at Freya.
The bartender, fed up, glared at Freya in Katrina's body. "Enough! Get your ass backstage, refill the stock, and you're talkin' to the manager later!" she barked. Katrina, in Peter's body, slipped away, still charming the crowd, while Freya stood there, stuck in Katrina's petite frame, her heart racing, knowing she had to get Peter's body back before shit hit the fan.



TO BE CONTINUED!
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