God fucking damn it. My head is pounding, my mind's a fucking mess, and my cock is still rock hard, throbbing in my pants like a confused animal. It all started so simply, you know? My dumbass brother, Fred, waltzing into my house, all giddy and shit, waving around this stupid-looking remote.

"Dan, check this out," he says, his voice all conspiratorial. "I found this fucking device, man. It swaps people's heads. Total mindfuck, you gotta see it."

Yeah, right, I thought. My genius brother, discovering revolutionary technology in a pawn shop. I told him to go fuck himself, that it was bullshit. My wife, bless her heart, was in the kitchen, making coffee, oblivious to the stupid conversation.

"Just one little test, man," he begged, a stupid grin on his face. "Just to prove I'm not crazy."

I should have told him to get the fuck out of my house right then and there. But I didn't. I let him press the button.

A flash, bright as a fucking camera bulb, and everything went to hell.

Fred's head was still there, smiling that idiotic smile, but now it was perched on top of my wife's body. And her head... her beautiful, perfect head, was on top of his fat, dumpy fucking body.

My coffee-making wife, my sweet, voluptuous wife, was now this bloated, hairy slob, and Fred, that fucking pervert, was a busty bombshell from the neck down. They were just standing there, like nothing had happened. My wife was still pouring coffee, completely unaware of the mountain of man-flesh below it, and Fred was just... gawking at his new tits.

That's when the rage hit me. "What the fuck, Fred?!" I screamed. "Stop touching her!" But he didn't. He just kept running his hands all over her body, my wife's body, his new fingers kneading her flawless breasts, pinching her perfect nipples. The sight of it made my stomach churn, but my dick, the traitorous bastard, was already getting hard. Her tits, my wife's tits, jiggling with every touch, her long legs and her delicious curves now his.

I lunged at him, a desperate attempt to stop the desecration of her body.

I tackled him to the floor, my hands on his shoulders, his new, soft body pressed against mine. The fight was a mess of flailing limbs and frantic grunts. My wife's scent, that mix of her perfume and the subtle musk of her pussy, hit me like a ton of bricks. It was on him, on her body, and it was driving me insane.

I was trying to pin him, to stop him from touching her anymore, but all I could feel was her soft tits mashing against my chest, her thick thighs wrapped around my waist, and my cock, already hard, was throbbing, ready to burst.

"Oh, what the fuck, you're getting hard?" Fred taunted, his deep voice and stupid face was rubbing salt on the wound. "Are you gay, bro?"

That's when she came in, my wife, still oblivious to the swap, her head on Fred's body, scolding us. "What the hell is wrong with you two?!" she yelled, her beautiful face contorted with anger, "Stop fighting, right now!"

I scrambled to my feet, trying to hide my tented pants, my brain screaming in a panic. Fred, that asshole, stepped back, a wicked grin on his face. He sat behind her, out of her sight, and started to fondle her tits again, sticking his tongue out at me, making a show of it. He was milking it, enjoying every damn second of having her body, and I was just standing there, helpless, watching him defile her.

I have to find a way to switch them back. I just have to.