You couldn't believe that Jason was missing the chance of a lifetime, Swap Class. While Mrs. Carmichael warmed up the college Redecollater and oiled the guillotine blades, his desk remained empty.

One by one, she calls students face in pairs to sit within the machine's steel booth. The mechanical limbs inside whine with gathering energy, laser sensors sweeping across their necks until...

Snicker-snack!

In a blur of blades faster than you can blink, their heads sit on the other's bodies, with only a line of microsutures to show for their transplant. The wobble back to their desks.

Mrs. Carmichael points at you. Then at Travis. His face goes green as he wedges himself into the booth next to you. His meaty fist slams into your upper arm.

"Listen, nerd, the second I’m back in my body, I’m gonna beat-”

Snicker-snack!

“—you to a paste…” Travis finishes, his voice shrill and nasal. Tears spring to his eyes as he clutches his upper arm. "Owwee! Th-that really hurts!" he sobs.

Your thick fists grab the edges of the booth and lever Travis' quarterback body off the bench, thick muscles unfurling as if in slow motion. Misjudging the extra height, you clang your head off the top of the Redecollator as you stand. A sharp line of pain smarts across your neck just above the vocal cords.

“No picking at it! Not unless you want your head to drop off!” Mrs. Carmichael snaps, swatting your hand away as you raise it to your neck.

You lumber back to your desk. The wooden chair groans beneath your bulk. Oh God, you feel everything. It’s bad enough seeing that ape undress in the changing room, let alone sensing the throbbing meat lurking beneath your desk.

“Alright, that’s everyone swapped,” Mrs. Carmichael says, doing a quick headcount. She moves to power down the Redecollator. “Now, remember, this month is about exercising empathy for your fellow students. I want you to really insert yourself into their lives. By walking a mile in their shoes, you’ll learn to respect-”

As her finger rests on the plug, Jason barges through the door.

“Hope I’m not too late, miss!”

Mrs. Carmichael’s face falls. “You’re not. But that… leaves us with an odd number of students.”

“Oh! No! Oh, really?! That’s terrible!” Jason says unconvincingly around a victorious grin.

Ten minutes later, Jason plops Mrs. Carmichael’s curvaceous ass down in his seat and winks. He fingers her silver necklace, following it down into the depths of her cleavage before caressing her supple breasts. Stood before the class, Mrs. Carmichael falters in her speech about mutual respect and understanding.

“Hook, line and sinker,” Jason whispers. “You got pretty lucky yourself. How about you and Travis’s hog help me break this baby in later?”