Chapter 1: The Shock
Dom sat at the bar, the bass thumping through the stool and up his spine. He scanned the crowd over the rim of his whiskey glass, a slow, predatory sweep. The place was a candy store of his particular taste: enhanced, exaggerated, plastic perfection glinting under the strobes. He’d already dismissed a few; the proportions weren’t right, the lips not pillowy enough, the confidence lacking that specific, vapid sparkle.
He wanted volume tonight. Obvious, ridiculous, couldn't-miss-them-even-if-you-tried fake tits. The kind that strained against sparkly tops, creating that glorious, gravity-defying shelf. His eyes raked across the dance floor, past girls with nice enough bodies, but nothing that made his dick twitch in his pants. Nothing extreme. It was a drought.
Fuck it.
He turned back to the bar, catching the bartender's eye. "Another one of these," he said, lifting his empty glass.
As the bartender turned to make the drink, Dom swiveled on his stool to face the room again, one elbow on the sticky bar top. The movement was casual, automatic.
A blur of motion streaked into his personal space.
Before his brain could even register what was happening—a flash of glossy blonde hair, the scent of vanilla and sweat—she was on her knees. The impact of her knees hitting the floor was a soft thump he felt more than heard. Her hands, adorned with long acrylic nails painted hot pink, were already on his belt buckle, fumbling with the metal prong.
"What the—" Dom breathed out, more stunned than protesting.
Lyna Perez looked up at him, her huge brown eyes wide and glazed with a frenetic energy. Her lip gloss was smeared a little. She didn't say a word. Her focus was absolute, a predator locked on its prey. With a deft click, she had his belt open, the button of his jeans popped, and the zipper dragged down in one rough, urgent motion.
The cool air of the club hit his hardening cock just as her warm, small hand wrapped around him through the slit of his boxer briefs. She squeezed, a little too hard, and a jolt of pure electric need shot straight to his balls.
"Holy shit," he grunted, his fingers instinctively tangling in her hair. No one seemed to be looking. It was like they were in a bubble of pulsing music and strobe light.
Lyna didn't need an invitation. She yanked his boxers down just enough to spring his cock free, already fully erect and throbbing. She didn't tease. She didn't admire. She opened her mouth, those inflated lips stretching wide, and took him all the way to the back of her throat in one deep, wet, impossible glide.
Dom's head rocked back, a guttural "Fuck!" torn from his throat, lost in the bass. The heat was unbelievable. The tight, constricting pressure of her throat around the head of his dick was a white-hot brand. She pulled back, saliva webbing from her lips to his glistening tip, and then slammed her face forward again, her nose pressing into his pubic bone.
She began to fuck her face on him with a frantic, desperate rhythm. Each time she pulled back, her tongue, thick and skilled, lashed the frenulum. Each time she plunged down, her throat muscles fluttered and convulsed around him. Her hands clawed at his thighs, holding on for leverage. Gagging sounds mixed with wet, obscene squelches, the only symphony he could hear now.
His balls tightened, a deep, urgent ache building. He looked down. Her tits were practically spilling out of her top, a massive, round, fake paradise jiggling with every violent bob of her head. The sight of it, combined with the relentless, perfect suction of her mouth, was going to make him blow.
"Gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged, his fingers tightening in her hair, not guiding, just holding on.
She moaned around his cock, the vibration traveling straight up his spine. She redoubled her efforts, her pace becoming sloppier, more frenzied. She wanted it. She was begging for it without saying a word.
The orgasm ripped through him like a detonation. With a choked roar, he slammed his hips up off the stool, driving himself deeper into that wet, welcoming heat as he erupted. Rope after rope of hot come shot directly down her throat. She swallowed convulsively, greedily, not missing a drop, her throat working around him, milking out every last pulse.
As the final shudder left his body, a bizarre, sharp pain lanced through his skull—a bright, silent ZAP.
Then, everything doubled.
He was looking down at Lyna from his own eyes, seeing her pull off his softening dick with a soft pop, a satisfied, dazed smile on her glistening lips.
But he was also looking up at himself from Lyna's perspective. He saw his own face, flushed and slack with pleasure, from below. He felt the cool floor under her knees, the ache in her jaw. And god, he could feel the heavy, phantom weight of her own massive tits, the push of the implants against her chest, a constant, pleasant presence.
What the fuck was that? The thought echoed, but it wasn't entirely his. It was laced with a bubbly, panicked energy. Tastes weird but good. God, my tits feel huge right now. Why do I feel so good?
Dom blinked, the dual vision receding slightly, settling into a strange overlay. He could still feel the ghost-sensation of silicone in his chest. He looked at Lyna, now wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Did you... feel that?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Lyna stood up on shaky legs, her eyes wide, but not with shock. With a hungry, new curiosity. She stared past him, across the club.
"Yeah," she breathed, her voice different, deeper, more focused. He could hear her in has brain as much as through his ears. It was strange, like an echo. "I feel... everything. And I really, really want to go feel Kate's new tits."
Dom could feel her thinking about what was going on, switching from minor panic, to arousal, back and forth. She felt better than she had ever felt before, but she felt weird about it. He could see her remembering her friends, a blonde with huge tits named Kate, another latina with a massive fake ass named Thalia. He got horny thinking about them... and then so did she. He could see the hunger in her eyes as she sat on her knees looking up at him. She even admired her own appearance through his eyes.
"You're like a mirror for me... it's weird seeing myself through your eyes... I hear how bad you still want me even after you just came." She had a dazed appearance and he could hear her thinking about sucking his dick again and then realizing he could hear it. "If you want..."
And oh did he want... but it didn't feel right. What happened to them? Why could he hear her thoughts? Was he high?
"You're not high... unless I'm high?" She said out loud, confusing his thoughts with hers. "Why does this feel so... right? Like I'm seeing the world for the first time?"
"I don't know... are you sure this feels right? You just... sucked my dick in public." Dom said and then realized he was still there with his dick bobbing in front of her face. He looked around to realize no one was paying attention to them. A sense of relief, followed by dread overcame him. "Are we... dead?"
Lyna felt a shock of despair for a moment and then looked around. Her friends were waiving her over. "I don't think so. I think I should go... but... I don't know. I don't really need to say anything, do I?"
"No."