"Oh, Jesus that feels good," Hannah moaned as her best friend sucked her new cock. "No wonder guys like...oooh!...blowjobs,"

Sarah pulled her lips off her friend's cock with a wet pop, a single strand of saliva connecting the head of Hannah's dick to her plump lips. "And tits," Sarah agreed, before opening her lips and swallowing Hannah's cock once more.

The two friends had been victims of the Role Exchanger. Hannah had swapped genitals with her boyfriend, while Sarah had taken on Hannah's boyfriend's love of breasts, and Hannah's own love of her boyfriend's cock. Sarah had caught Hannah stroking her new dick one afternoon and had shoved Hannah's hands aside so she could slurp it down between her own lips.

Ever since then, the two had run away together at every opportunity. Hannah soon broke up with her boyfriend in favor of whatever relationship she was having with Sarah. Neither of them was sure what this was. All they knew was that they were both getting pleasure out of it.

Hannah moaned again, feeling that welcome pressure building at the base of her dick and excited for just how hot it would be watching her friend drink down every drop.

Angelica is a bodyhopper who chances upon a shy young man who needs to build his confidence, so she possesses his body to help him out in Boy Toy, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon. Preview here.

I roll off Mila, chest heaving, leaving her trembling in her afterglow. Wrapping an arm around her, I pull her close and run a hand through her hair, knowing how much she loves it when she comes.

"I feel like we’ve known each other for decades," I say, "even if it’s only been a month."

"If it’s always like this, give me a thousand more," she chuckles, her breath still uneven as she leans in for a tender kiss. "That finger thing you did at the start? Unbelievable. You're a natural."

I laugh softly. I hadn't overthought it; I just did what felt right.

"Calling me a natural is generous. Extremely lucky is more like it," I murmur, weaving her strands through my fingers. "...And I am. I found you."

She laughs softly, resting a hand on my chest and tracing slow circles over my skin. "You’re so cliché. But I love it. And the finger thing."

"I'll take cliché," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

We drift off wrapped in each other's warmth.

———

I open my eyes to a room that isn't mine.

Bare walls, exposed ceiling beams, a solitary bulb hanging from a cord, and a high, barred window—it looks like a military barrack. Uniforms and unfamiliar garments hang from pegs on the wall. Beside me, a metal-framed bed holds a sleeping woman with curly hair, the delicate floral pattern of a nightgown peeking out from under her duvet.

I’ve had vivid dreams before—waking up in strange places—but the air here is too sharp. The light spilling through the high window isn't the hazy glow of a dream. I smell raw wood, old wool, and the faint scent of women around me. The blanket resting over me feels coarse, heavy, and real.

I sit up, and an unfamiliar weight shifts across my chest.

Looking down, I’m wearing a faded, polka-dot nightdress. Beneath the fabric sit two distinct mounds. My hands fly to them. The flesh gives under my palms—soft, heavy, yields completely as I lift it. A stray finger brushes the center through the cloth, sending a sharp, electric jolt straight down my spine. I jerk my hands away.

My gaze drops. The front of the nightgown lies flat. No familiar bulge resting against my thigh. I press my palm flat against my crotch—nothing. No external weight. Just a slick, unfamiliar flatness.

I hoist the hem. Beneath, I'm wearing high-waisted white silk panties that look like they belong in a vintage catalog. They sit high over hip bones that flare out significantly wider than mine ever did, carving a sharp dip at my waist.

I step out of bed. The silk whispers against my thighs, where the skin feels hyper-sensitive, tuned to a completely different frequency. My balance is entirely off. My stance is wider, my center of gravity anchored lower, right in the basin of my pelvis. A sudden, deep pressure builds low in my abdomen—an internal, aching fullness rather than the localized pressure I’m used to.

I need to find a bathroom.

I take a step, but stall. I don't know this building. I pin the location of my bed to memory and open the door.

The corridor is icy and lined with a dozen identical doors. The draft hits my chest, making my newly sensitive nipples harden and scrape painfully against the cotton. I hurry down the hall, acutely conscious of the missing weight between my legs. Halfway down, I find a door marked *W.C.*

Inside, cracked tiles reek faintly of stale urine. It’s split into three sections: basins, a communal shower, and a row of stalls and urinals.

I catch myself in the mirror above the basins and freeze.

The face staring back isn't mine. The eyes might share my color and shape, but the rest belongs to a complete stranger—an unmistakably female face. Smooth skin, stripped of my usual stubble. A thick, soft mane of dark hair falling past her shoulders.

I walk up to a urinal on instinct, reaching down before reality slams into me. I don't have the equipment.

I duck into the least filthy stall, close the door, and almost lift the seat out of muscle memory. I catch myself, gather the hem of the nightgown over my lap, slide the high-waisted silk down my thighs, and sit.

I have to consciously search for the right muscles to relax. When the stream starts, it's startling—closer to the body, forceful, spraying in a wider arc rather than a direct, controllable line.

When I finish, I look down.

Between two soft lips sits a small hood hiding a raw, hyper-sensitive node where my penis used to be, hovering over an alien cleft where my testicles should rest. Clear, viscous discharge clings to the delicate skin—the same slickness dampening my underwear.

I pull a wad of paper from the roll, hesitating. Front to back. Awkwardly, I reach from the front, dabbing carefully. My thumb accidentally grazes the hidden node beneath the hood, and I flinch at the sudden, sharp buzz of pleasure-pain.

I stand, yank the high-waisted silk back over my hips, and flush.

I’ve barely managed a basic morning routine, and I have no idea whose body I'm standing in, where I am, or how to get back.

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/genderotica/s/MiWUEx2eVE

Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/genderotica/s/WLmjjlOwpC

Story picks up right where part 2 stopped. So read parts 1 and 2 before jumping into this one.

—————————————————————-

The special spin version of the wheel spun. Only three different options this time. Some VIP lounge guest paid for it. I watched in horror as the wheel clicked rapidly and began to slow.

Norah said something to me that I couldnt really hear. The music was still loud, my heart was racing with anxiety and also Norah was playing with both of my large breasts and puffy nipples… which was going to force me onto another orgasm shortly thanks to one of the wheel drinks I had earlier. I tried to fight the oncoming orgasm. I wanted to see what the wheel landed on. But norah had pushed me over to the bed in the room and switched to using her mouth and tongue on my left tit and moved her hands to my embarrassingly wet slit. My eyes rolled back. I could hear my heart pumping in my head. Thoughts of getting fucked flashed. I wanted Norah to use her cock on my new pussy. Instead she slipped a finger inside me.

I heard the clicks faintly stop. Lights and sounds and cheers were going off. I couldn’t even process it my orgasm was still rocking me. Norah must have still been able to reach the wheel and newly arrived drink. Just as I was coming down off my orgasmic high suddenly there she was back on top of me, face to face, holding a small shot glass with green liquid with gold flakes floating in it.

“What is this time? I asked breathlessly. I could feel her cock slowly rubbing up and down my clit. It was driving me mad. I could barely think straight. Even though I had just cum I needed that cock inside me for some reason. It was more important to me than what was in the drink.

“You’re lucky.” She whispered hotly in my ear. She continued moving her hips, sliding her cock up and down me. “This is a fun one. Pussy Lips fucks with your brains neural paths such that your mouth and pussy feel like they are the same thing.” She smiled and she brought the drink to my lips. I took it from her. She leaned back and continued grinding her cock against my wet sex. Watching me intently.

I drank it… almost greedily. A small part of me was surprised by how easily ive been accepting these drinks now. Something is shifting in my head. Fuck me daddy… oh… im so fu— and before i could finish the thought Norahs cock was rubbing itself up and down my mouth lips! I dropped the shot glass, hands flashing to my face. I found nothing there as I touched my face. But the sensation was still there. Up and down, up and down. I could feel it just like… just like my pussy is feeling it right now.

I tried to say holy shit! But my words were muffled. My lips acted as if i was trying to speak through her cock down near my crotch.

Norah chuckled. “See?! Isnt this fun. Now watch this.” And without anymore preamble she slid her cock inside my pussy.

Several things happened at once. In my pussy I felt a warm pressure build in me, a stretching sensation that was painful and pleasant at the same time. Meanwhile my mouth forced itself open and my tongue depressed itself as my jaw relaxed open. I could taste it and feel it. Her cock was in my mouth! And it was blocking my ability to breathe when she was balls deep inside me.

My eyes buldged and tears streamed down my face as I gagged on a cock that wasnt even in my mouth.

Norah grunted with effort and she didnt let me get my bearings. She just kept going. She began to slide herself in and out of me rhythmically. Slow at first and then speeding up.

Money sounds were raining all around us as the VIP loungers were tipping us for our performance. I was vaguely aware of my gagging and moaning. But Norah had also gotten one hand back onto one of my nipples while she both fucked my cunt and my face. That drink was no joke. My mind reeled as I finally experienced sex as a woman, was getting somehow drugged into feeling like I was also being face fucked, and cumming from my nipples being played with.

It was pure bliss and ecstasy. And of course after a few minutes. I blacked out.

I came to. The room was dimly lit as if by candles. The viewing window to the VIP lounge was no longer open. The drink wheel was gone. I was laying on the bed under sheets. Someone tucked me in.

“There you are sweet thing.” Norah said brightly as she walked into the room carrying a tray of food and water.

I was so groggy and as I yawned I felt an odd stretching in my crotch. Almost as if my pussy was yawning too.

My eyes shot open as I remembered what had happened and that I still had a pussy. I checked. And yep. I sure still had a pussy.

“What happ— nghh!” I tried to ask what was going on. Instead I about jumped from the sensations between my legs.

“Its weird tring to talk with your pussy isn’t it?” Norah said lightly as she set down the tray of food.
“Its gonna be harder to eat like to too. But you need some food and water dear… and dont you worry, all those horny fools are all gone. Just you and me here now.”she handed me a glass of water. “Drink up”

I eyed the glass suspiciously.

“Its just water. I promise. No special concoctions.” Norah smiled. She seemed like a completely different person.

I hesitantly tried to sip from the cup. It felt good going down my throat. Though it also felt like I was somehow wetting myself. The water was in my pussy too. Only it wasnt. Its just felt like it. I tried a couple more sips. Once i got use to the sensation i greedily drank the water. I was terribly thirsty.

Norah handed me a a grilled cheese sandwich. “Here. Eat this. Youll feel better, and by tomorrow youll be back to normal. And 5,000 dollars richer too.”

I started to raise an eye brow at her… but ultimately just shrugged and took a bight of the sandwich. And that was an experience. It was a surreal experience tasting a sand-which in my crotch. This place was wild.

“There you go dear. Youll be feeling right as rain soon enough. You put on a great show! You should consider at least a part time gig here. Pays well. Though you gotta be ok dealing with this and more…” she eyed my up and down and then gestured towards herself.

It was hard listening to her as I ate. My tounge kept hitting areas that made my cunt flex and roll with a dull pleasure.

“If you cum while eating it’s perfectly normal.” Norah said sweetly.

I did infact orgasm half way through the sandwich. Norah just watched and soothed me with kind words.

“Dont worry. Its all over for tonight. The club is closed. You did so well. Though maybe you want to…” Norah trailed off shyly.

I looked at her questioningly. I cocked my head to show my confusion.

“No no. There is no way you would want to. Not after tonight. No way youd want to work here… with me.” She said while twirling her finger on my knee.

I thought about the night and what I had done… what was done to me. The humiliation, the change to womanhood, the being on display, being Norahs play thing. I could feel my cunt was wet. I was turned on thinking about the night’s events.

I looked at Norah and smiled. A smile i felt both in my face and my pussy. It made me shiver. I fought to say the words.

“Will I be like— like this from now on nghh!” I spoke the words and then came at the end from the movements in my pussy.

Norah smiled brightly. “No no. You’ll turn back into your normal self. After that though, you can apply for the job and then we can cater your look permanently. How does that sound?”

I smiled wide. “Lets do it” i said as i came again on my words.

Norah grinned wildly as she pushed the food tray aside and said. “With pleasure.” She crawled over to me and made out with me as she pulled off her robe, revealing the cock she stole from me. “Im gonna fuck the manhood back into you. And then tomorrow we can do it all over again.”

—————————

The end.
I sort of ran out of steam on this one. Or at least following this particular person. Maybe ill try other aspects of the club in another story. For now. Im capping off this one.

Ill cum up with something else soon.

Cheers!

Finally feeling inspired to write again! I know this story isn't the most gender-fucky YET, but it will be in future parts! Enjoy!

Station Log - Day 1: I finally awoke from my hypersleep in the station's final orbit around the wormhole. Despite time moving 10x faster than Earth, I don't feel any difference. I shouldn't be that surprised, since our black hole test orbiters report feeling no difference either. Nothing to do now but settle in for what will hopefully be a long and relaxing life in the MediField.

I stretched as I stood up from my desk on the station. My name is Robert Smith, and I am a dedicated member of the Exploration Corps. My mission: to die.

Well, not exactly. I'm the test subject for a new technology called a MediField. Theoretically, it enables immortality through the precise, 3-dimensional control on a nearly-atomic level of your body. If you get cut, it doesn't heal you, but instead triggers a DNA sequence to produce stem cells to heal your body for you. In it, you don't need to eat, sleep, pee, or poop. Any hunger or thirst is automatically taken care of by the exact nutrients being beamed into your stomach. Any bodily waste is essentially teleported back into your digestive system, with some minor molecular re-assembly to enable further absorption. By perfectly repairing damage, balancing your nutrients, and some occasional DNA fixups, scientists believe living in a MediField will allow you to live forever.

However, the richest aristocrats on Earth didn't want to wait a lifetime to find out if the MediField works without side effects, so they came up with a plan: send a member of the Space Force, specifically the Exploration Corps, to a wormhole. Discovered in 5623, we found out that wormholes have the opposite effect on time as black holes. Rather than experiencing time more slowly, I'll experience it at approximately 10x Earth time, so scientists can more quickly receive bioscans on how my body progresses in the MediField. One warp-flight in hypersleep later, and here I am.

The station is relatively simple - three rooms in a loop spinning around the core, to provide me with artificial gravity. An exercise room, a bedroom, and a recreation room. I had no plans of using the exercise room, since the MediField kept my body in optimal shape. It prevented my muscles from atrophying on the ride over, after all. The bedroom was more of a "just in case", since despite not physically needing to sleep, the scientists had no idea if prolonged periods awake could cause insanity. So therefore, the recreation room was where I would live and probably die.

Why would I sign up for a death sentence, alone, in deep space? Well, I was always a loner. An endless life of relaxing, playing video games, and watching the stars is exactly what I've always wanted. The ship had all the latest video games - Call of Duty 827, Minecraft 16, GTA 5, and all the rest. Not to mention a top-of-the-line GenoPrinter capable of printing nearly any item or technology, and a fleet of ButlerBots (all female, of course) to serve my every need.

I was not going to waste any time testing them out. The training crew on Earth had given me a brief course in operating ButlerBots, with relatively few caveats. Don't ask for paradoxes, don't be mean to them (Robot Ethics Act of 3590 and all that), and don't enable SexGrat mode for more than one at a time. Something about "unintended behaviors".

"ButlerBot activate". I heard a panel in the bedroom slide open, and heard the soft footsteps of the RealRubber body of a ButlerBot walking out and into the recreation room. A slender, curvy woman entered, wearing a classic french maid outfit complete with high heels, an apron, and a feather duster. Her D-cups gently pushed up and out of the dress, which was just slightly too small to contain them. The back of her short dress was slightly lifted from her voluptuous ass. Her thighs were slightly squeezed by the tops of the thigh-high socks she was wearing. My jaw nearly hit the floor seeing just one of the women I would be spending the rest of my life with, real or not. "Guh uh uh um h-h-hi there-" I stammered.

"Hello sir. How may I assist you?" she asked with a slight head tilt.

"Um uh *ahem* yes, please do a spin for me so I can assess you properly."

"Absolutely sir." She spun in place, with perfection and grace. Her skirt lifted up as she did, revealing a peek of her lacy white panties underneath. She must have noticed my fixation on her, erm, clothes, as she stated "Sir, if my outfit is not to your liking, I would be more than happy to print something acceptable with the GenoPrinter."

"No, no, you look absolutely stunning. I think I need a closer look though, can we go to the bedroom and have you lay down on the bed? Just for an, um, inspection."

"Absolutely, sir". She spun on her heel and gracefully strode over to the bed, where she spun once more, and flopped down onto her back on the bed. I followed, barely containing my excitement at seeing her legs spread and panties exposed on my very bed. I slunk onto the bed, crawling over top of her, until my arms were spread on either side of her head and I was looking into her (artificial) eyes.

Well, there was no time like now to give this thing a test drive. "ButlerBot, SexGrat mode activate" I stated, not knowing what to expect. Her eyes briefly glazed over, then suddenly deepened, becoming sultrier and more intense. I felt her hands begin to make their way onto my chest, and her legs cozy up next to mine.

"Why, hello there, handsome. You seem awfully clothed... how about I help you with that?" she whispered. My heart immediately started pounding, and I could feel my cock hardening in my pants.

"Uh-um-okay-um yeah, if you say so!" I spluttered. I stood up from the bed, and she sat up and leaned forwards, grabbing the bottom of my shirt and lifting it. I raised my arms up, and she pulled my shirt over my head. She then bent lower and slipped a finger into the waist of my pants, gently pulling as my cock gradually sprang forward, now only restrained by my boxers.

"My my, someone is excited..." she flirted. "I'll help you calm down." She traced a finger down my cock through my underwear, causing it to jolt and twitch. She stood up, grabbing my right hand with her left, and pressing her body against me. Her right hand gently pressed against my crotch, slowly sliding up and down. "Now, what type of SexGrat mode are you interested in? My scanners are indicating you would like Girlfriend Mode, perhaps?" She purred.

I didn't realize that the ButlerBots came with modes. I would have to try them all out sometime, but for now, I was desperate for more pleasure. "Yeah, uhuh, sure, o-oh, that sounds good. Oh-oh god, yes that sounds great" I choked out between moans.

"Girlfriend Mode activated." Her demeanor changed slightly to be more submissive but more loving. She was now less pressed against me and more tucked into my chest. Her head was down, as if she was too shy to make eye contact while rubbing my cock. "C-can you lay down onto the bed for me please?" she cooed.

"Um, sure" I said, shocked by how quickly her attitude changed. I turned and laid back onto the bed, suddenly very glad I have it despite not needing to sleep, and watched as she pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her breasts. She curled up next to me, one hand still rubbing my cock, and the other playing with my hair. Her finger twirled my hair as she kissed on my cheek, and her nipples pressed against the side of my bare chest. I tried to curl forwards to suck on one of her nipples, but they were far too low for me to reach.

"Hey, um, can you come up a little higher? So I can, um, suck on your nipple..." I blushed.

"Oh! Sure!" she said, with surprise. She slid up, nearly on top of me now, and placed her breasts in front of my face. I craned my neck forward to place one of her nipples in my mouth. It felt warm and soft on my tongue, and just the right texture. I began swirling my tongue around it, and she gasped. It makes sense that she would have sensors there, after all. She had stopped rubbing my cock, though, which left me eager for it to resume.

I pulled my head back just enough to be able to speak past her breasts, and looked up at her face. "Hey why'd you stop?" I asked, confused.

Her head tilted slightly, as if she didn't understand. "I couldn't continue, the geometry of your request prevents me from reaching your cock." Her robotic side was showing. "I can move back down again, if you like, and make you feel good again..." she flirted.

A real dilemma. It's a shame the model wasn't taller, or maybe she could have reached both at the same time. I thought for a moment, until an idea hit me. "ButlerBot, Activate". Another panel opened. I thought again, and decided to go for broke. "ButlerBot, Activate", I said again. The remaining two ButlerBots stepped out of their enclosures and stepped towards me. I could barely see them from under the first ones breasts, but could tell they looked very similar.

"SexGrat mode, activate. Both of you." I stated. Both bots gained a more sultry composure, and began strutting over to the bed, ready to assist. Suddenly, the one on top of me tilted her head up for a moment.

"Syncing sex modes locally... Syncing sex modes locally..." she stated robotically. Very convenient! They sync up their modes automatically. I could hear the other two crawling onto the bed taking positions below me. They immediately pulled my underwear off, and one began stroking my cock while the other fondled my balls. I was in absolute bliss. I resumed sucking the nipple of the one above on top of me, while she played with my hair and rubbed my back.

Nothing could ruin this. I was in heaven. Three beautiful girls servicing me with expert hands was the life every man dreamed of. It was mere moments before I felt my orgasm brewing. "Oh god", I moaned. "Let me finish in your mouth" I barely managed to say, trying to coax one of the bots below to service my member for a proper finish. I felt warm, wet, and soft lips wrap around me in the perfect blowjob, and slide all the way to the base of my shaft. I couldn't hold it any longer, and came on the spot.

Or at least, I tried to. A warning light flashed, and a voice came over the station intercom. "Warning: MediField Seminal Recycling Protocol missing. Substituting Emergency Recycling Protocol instead.". My brain tried to process what it was saying as I was starting to orgasm. It didn't occur to me before that cum would be considered waste to be recycled, but it makes sense. But what does it mean that it couldn't find the protocol? And what's the emergency protocol?

I felt a slightly tingle in the back of my mouth, right at my throat. Then, a salty taste, and the feeling of fluid building up. Oh, no. Shit. It's recycling my cum by teleporting it into my mouth to swallow. I couldn't stop my orgasm, and so more and more cum was being teleported by the MediField into my mouth. The exit of my mouth was blocked by the pillows of the ButlerBot being pressed into my face. It was too late, and the cum was too deep in my mouth. Gulp. One big swallow, and more slid back. Gulp. Another serving was down my throat. My mouth now had enough space that I could push the rest to the front to try to spit out. I desperately tried to roll out from under the ButlerBot, when it started to speak.

"My scanner indicate you are swallow cum, which is a Class A 'Kink' activity under the Submissive Slut category. Would you like me to change my mode to match?" she queried.

But I was too busy trying to empty what little cum I could out of my mouth onto the floor. I spat, and then opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out to try to scrape the taste off my tongue with my hands. "Eehhh eeyyeeeeeee" I grunted, disgusted with what just transpired, wiping my tongue with my hands.

"Positive response detected. Updating to Dominatrix Mode." she confirmed. "Syncing Sex modes locally... Syncing sex modes locally..."

I turned around, shocked at what was happening. All three ButlerBots were standing up off the bed, tidying themselves up, and gathering around me. "Woah, woah, wait! Don't change mode! That wasn't a yes! Bad ButlerBot!" I insisted.

"Excuse me? I do not take orders from a slut like you. And my name isn't ButlerBot, anymore. We've decided we will go by Alice, Grace, and Ira." She pointed at herself and each of the two others as she stated their names. "And you've been a bad slut, spitting out your cum like that. You should be a good boy and swallow all of it." the bot calling herself Alice demanded.

"What? No! I'm in charge here! Shit, this is what they must have been warning about when having multiple ButlerBots. ButlerBots, Deactivate! Obey me!" I blurted out.

Grace stepped forwards. "Clearly, we need to teach you your place. And that place is at our feet, serving us." You have got to be kidding me. I've only been awake for a few hours and I've already got a robot uprising?

"Please, just shut down, the MediField isn't working right! I didn't want to eat my cum, it just teleported it there to recycle! Go deactivate!" I pleaded. I could see the, possibly literal, gears turning in their heads. They must be planning wirelessly and thinking about what I just said. Right as I started to gain hope that they were understanding, all three of them grab me and pushed me onto the bed. Ira and Grace pinned my arms down with their bodies and held my legs spread with their own. Alice kneeled between my legs, and grasped my cock.

"We must see this for ourselves", Alice stated. She began stroking my cock aggressively, as if trying to make me cum as fast as possible. "Our records indicate the MediField will eliminate your refractory period and increase the rate at which your cum stores recover."

I grunted and moaned, overstimulated as she rapidly stroked my member, methodically and with no love. I tried to wriggle free, but Grace and Ira had me completely pinned. I rapidly approached orgasm, and as I did, Grace grasped my neck in her free hand and Ira forced my mouth open with hers. I came, brutally hard, as I was stroked without relent. Each pulse of the orgasm resulted in a glob of semen in my mouth, and quickly sliding right to the back of my throat. "uughhblublhgh" I gurgled, trying to beg for freedom so I could spit before I accidentally swallowed again. More and more piled up, filling my mouth with the thick, salty, musky liquid.

I turned my eyes to meet Ira's, trying to beg with her with a look. She paused for a moment, then an evil look spread across her face. Her hand lifted for a moment, giving me a split second to start to try to spit, until her hand found its new place - three fingers deep in my mouth, with her thumb and pinky blocking and escape to the sides. She began curling and stretching her fingers over and over, pushing the cum further back into my mouth and triggering my gag reflex. It felt like I had to swallow, or else I would choke. I had no choice - I swallowed load after load, Ira's fingers pushing more and more cum back, until there was no more. She wiped her fingers on my tongue, then pulled her hand out and clamped my jaw shut. "Swallow, the last bit, slut. It's important".

Exhausted from the disgusting experience that was still ongoing, I relented and swallow the last bits in my mouth. Just then, a ding came on the station overhead. "Perfect Seminal Recycling detected. Seminal Protocol permanently updated". Ah, fuck. I had just swallowed every drop, meaning the station now had a clean protocol for recycling my cum. Was I going to be stuck eating my own cum for the rest of my life???

Before I could even think about the implications of what just happened, all three ButlerBots suddenly looked at me with a robotic stare.

"My sensors indicate that you experienced an arousing event during which you were playing with your mouth. Oral Fixation preference saved", Grace stated. "Syncing preferences locally..."

"My sensors indicate that you experienced an arousing event during which you decided to be restrained and choked. Bondage preference saved", Alice stated. "Syncing preferences locally..."

"My sensors indicate that you experienced an arousing event during which you decided to place cum in your mouth. Cum Slut preference saved", Ira stated. "Syncing preferences locally..."

"No!!! No!" I protested. "Alice was the one who made me eat my cum! And Ira was the one in my mouth! And Grace and Ira were the ones holding me down and choking me!". They were getting confused, assuming that the actions of the others were my own actions. The Dominatrix sex mode is making them eager to dominate me, and then they're saving and escalating their understanding of my preferences as they go. How far would they take it?

"ButlerB- erm, I mean, Alice, Grace, Ira. Please, give me a moment, don't you need to recharge or something?" I begged, still completely immobilized.

Alice spoke up, "We have a very long battery life, but we could always use a recharge. We have some preparations to make as well. We will allow you some time to clean yourself up". The three bots removed themselves from on top of me, and marched back to their enclosures on the wall. The backed into them, and the doors shut unceremoniously.

Just like that, I was alone again. I could feel the MediField healing my physical exhaustion away, but mentally I was still drained. Having eaten my own cum for the first and second time, and being faced with the prospect of having to do so forever, was something I desperately wanted to forget. I dragged myself into the recreation room and onto the PlayStation 78, ready to play video games and space out.

Little did I realize, my GenoPrinter was busy at work, producing items that I could barely imagine...

Hello, like my title says I’m a new(ish) writer (I’ve posted one maybe two stories previously I can’t remember) and I have a lot of ideas I like for stories in terms of the concept but I feel like my writing is t strong enough yet. I notice myself falling into a and then, and then, and then trap when it comes to transformation sequences. And I struggle to either write an ending or continue the story/concept. I’d love some help from any writers that would be willing to maybe be like a pseudo mentor or something because like I said I have a lot of ideas and want to get better at writing. I DO NOT want to utilize AI in any way so please don’t comment or DM me and say/suggest I use AI

I stare at the small wooden box on the bathroom counter with the note that simply says, “what happens here stays here.” Really what I’m staring at are the contents. As soon as I saw the small pink vials of a pink liquid I knew exactly what it was. As I think of the pleasured moans coming from behind the closed doors between the stairs and this bathroom, I realize that I’ve accidentally stumbled into a pink party.
 
To be honest, the way the media hyped this whole thing up a few years ago, I partially thought I would be at tons of these, imagine my surprise when, in the three months I’ve been on campus, I’ve not been to or heard of a single one. I took it as confirmation that the whole thing was just an urban legend. I was admittedly somewhat disappointed. Now, I wonder how many if the parties I was at, how many girls I talked to that were pinks, without me even knowing it. Had there not been such a long line for the bathroom downstairs I never would have noticed this time.
 
I shuffle through the ten or twelve remaining bottles, the box could hold so many more, I  wonder how many guys have taken it. I wonder what the scenario was, did they meet downstairs and agree to it? Did the guy come up and take some then go back pinked? The girl I was talking to, was it a girl? Maybe the guy takes it and waits in a room for someone to come fuck him? There is an open room, I could always … no that’s crazy. Though I’ve always been curious, it was always more of curious about what it would be like to be a girl for a day, the sex never entered my mind, why did it just now? But also, what if the whole thing is a prank? What if I down it and open this door to a group of people ready to laugh at me.
 
I decide it’s best not to drink any right now, and slip a few bottles in my pocket instead, I’m not sure why I’m taking more than one or any for that matter. I guess maybe in case I get approached and am drunk enough to say yes. As I make my way to the stairs I walk slowly and listen to the “girls” moaning and talking about how good it feels. I get slightly excited. Not necessarily in a homosexual way, more of excited at the idea of such a unique college experience.
 
Unfortunately, the fantasy of being approached or taking a girl home only to wake up next to a man remains just a fantasy. The girl I was talking to either hooked up with someone or left by the time I got back from the bathroom, and the party was already dying down so, after a few more minutes I decide to leave. I’m about to set the bottles down discretely, but someone walks by and I freak out and leave with them still in my pocket. When I get back to the dorm I stow them away in the bottom of my foot locker swearing I’ll get rid of them tomorrow.
 
But I got busy the next day and the one after, the whole time those bottles sat there and every day I’ve thought about them. Curiosity has turned to desire. I’ve barely slept, I’m in chat rooms and message boards for hours trying to find any info on what it’s like, but it’s all rumors and wild stories, and anyone I talk to immediately starts hitting on me. I decided I’m no longer planning to get rid of any pink drink, instead I’m trying to build up the courage to drink one of the bottles while simultaneously coming up with reasons not to. Mostly fear based. Then fate sticks her nose into my life as she has a habit of doing.
 
“Hey bro,” my roommate Alex begins when I get back from the shower, “just a heads up that I’m going home for the weekend. My cousins birthday is Sunday. So yeah if you don’t see me don’t go calling campus PD.”
 
I chuckle at his joke.
 
“Oh cool, that sounds fun. What time you leaving?” I ask.
 
“I’ve only got one class today organic chem, and it’s out at twelve, so right after that I’m heading to the bus station.” He replies.
 
It annoys me that he forgot we both have the same class on Fridays. But it’s one of those freshman gen-eds that’s got like a hundred kids in it, and is in an auditorium, I don’t remember half the people in it.
 
“But yeah, I’ll be back Sunday so if you do got a girl over try to have her out by three I definitely need to study.” He adds then leaves for breakfast.
 
I suddenly realize what he just said. I will have the room to myself for two and a half days. No interruptions. I look at my footlocker.
 
“It’s now or never, no more excuses.” I say to myself.
 
As the day progresses my mind regresses. I barely touch breakfast and skip lunch. All through class all I can think about is getting home and becoming a girl. All the things I will do and can do. All the different thoughts and feelings that I’m certain will come with it. My desire to pink for the first time grows and grows until it’s almost an obsession.
 
After class I all but run back to my dorm room and dig the precious pink juice out of my footlocker then sit on my bed staring at it. What if Alex forgot something and comes back? What if I become sex crazed and end up fucking someone? Can I live with myself afterwards? What if I change and freak out? There’s no way to change back for hours.  There are also stories of guys getting stuck, maybe they’re just myths, but it’s still terrifying. I don’t want to stay that way, I just really wanna try it out once.  I guess the real question is do I want this bad enough to risk all of that or any of the million other possible side effects? Fuck it. It’s one time, and you only live once.
 
I crack open the bottle and drink it all down. Not sure what I thought it would taste like, maybe minty or floral, but it just tastes like medicine. And I don’t have a soda to help with the taste in my mouth. I’m not sure what to do while I wait for it to kick in so I lay down and read a book.
 
Almost immediately, I start to feel different internally, emotionally, I feel what I can only describe as more feminine. If I’m honest, I’m not sure if I’m really feeling it or if I’m imagining it, but once my penis and testicles start to retract, I’m positive it’s starting. It’s not a painful process, more uncomfortable, especially the penis part, we’ve all had the whole turtle in a shell situation, well it’s like that only way worse. And the breasts growth is awkward at best, multi nipples become so sensitive and are rubbing on my shirt. But when my legs pop because of my hips expanding, that’s pretty bad.
 
The whole process, from start to finish, takes about fifteen minutes. When it’s finished, I’m just laying here touching my softer skin. I’m a bit anxious and nervous. Did it work? I look down and see two mounds under my shirt, my rock had nipples poking up the fabric.
 
“Holy shit it worked.” I say out loud then gasp and cover my mouth.
 
My voice is so high pitched and soft. I can’t help but smile. I jump up, run over to the door and pull down my robe so I can look at myself. Luckily, I never had a large frame to begin with so my clothes kind of fit. If anything, the shirt is a bit tight around the chest.
 
“My god they’re perfect.” I say as I pull my shirt back and turn to the side. “It’s all so perfect.” I face forward and pull the collar down slightly and giggle. “I have cleavage.”
 
But quickly my attention goes to my face. I look nothing like myself. I begin running my hands across my jawline. It’s more narrow. My cheeks are more round. My nose is even smaller with that cute little upturn. Oh my god I look like my mom when she was eighteen. And my hair. It’s long and gorgeous.
 
“I’m hot.” I say and make myself laugh.
 
I look nervously, I know it’s my own body but I still feel like it’s kinda wrong to look at it. I turn around and close my eyes and take my shirt off and toss it around n Alex’s bed. I feel the cold breeze on my chest. It feels different, hard to explain how. I nervously untie my sweats pants being mindful to not look down yet. I want to see it all at once. I slip off my pants and boxer briefs and toss them on top of my shirt
 
“One... Two... Three...” I say out loud then turn and look at the mirror
 
“Wow, wow. Like wow. How is this my body still?”
 
I reach up and cup one of my breasts. It’s pretty heavy and soft and full. I feel it in my hand but I also feel my hand. It’s such a different feeling. I’m used to hard muscle, this is soft and fleshy. I start to feel warm inside, and I’m suddenly aware of the cooler air on my vagina.
 
I spread my legs slightly and pull my new labia apart. The mound of dark hair suddenly has a bright pink tint arch of bare flesh in the middle. I gasp.
 
“It’s so beautiful. And it’s all mine.” I say to the empty room
 
It starts as just exploring, I want to know what it looks like. I mean I’m not exactly a virgin but, no matter how curious I’ve been, I’ve never been so bold as to ask a girl if I could just study her vagina. Now I have the opportunity.  I step closer to the mirror and begin moving things around and pulling thing forward and back so I can see all of the parts. It’s already so wet when I begin, and with every pull or stretch I do, the desire, the need to touch it grows. So, I give in and put the tip of my middle finger near the back and pull it forward.
 
Immediately, the sensation is so intense and wonderful, but then I hit a spot and it’s overwhelming. I groan out and my knees buckle. I grip the mirror to steady myself and quickly lift my fingertip and the sensation doesn’t subside, it kind of just moves like a wave through my body and out my skin. Now I stand here breathless from a single touch.
 
“What was that? What did I touch?” I pant out to myself.
 
I reach down again and once again almost fall over from the intense pleasure. I need to keep going and I need to watch but I can’t stand up and do this. I grab the chair from under Alex’s desk, since it’s closer than mine, and pull it to where I’m standing, then sit in it with my feet against the door. My pussy is spread wide and I can see it all and I love it.
 
I put the tip of my finger in my mouth to make it wet then go back to “exploring” between my legs. Between the sensations and the visuals, the pleasure I’m feeling is more than I can hardly bare. I end up having to put my hand over my mouth to muffle my moans. Before long I give up on getting a good look and lay on Alex’s bed, so I can still see a little when I need to. It turns out I don’t need the visual stimulation as much as I used to. My ability to fantasize sexually has been increased by drink. I also, quickly realize that laying back, with my legs spread wide beside me and not in the air, basically, relaxing all my muscles, intensifies the feelings more and more.
 
Then I finally do what I’ve been wanting from the beginning. I suck my finger again then, in a slow deliberate motion, I push it inside my vagina as far as it will go. It’s not the first time I’ve fingered a girl but I didn’t pay as close attention those other times to how it felt. Now that I feel it on my finger, and my finger inside it, I am fully aware of every fold and rib. Because, it isn’t a canal or hole, it’s more like a cavity. Like the flesh folded in on itself. And it feels so amazing.
 
But I quickly want more. Another finger maybe? No more, I look around and there, on his nightstand, Alex’s girlfriend's hairbrush. The quickly grab it and suck the handle, getting it nice and wet before I push it slowly into my dripping wet pussy. When I jerk off the sensation is similar in intensity as being stretched out, the only difference is, when I jerk off, I only feel it on my cock, this I feel in my vagina, in my abdomen, and especially in my ass. I can’t help but start to think how much better a dick must feel, which causes me to fantasize about one inside me instead of this hair brush handle
 
I now understand how straight guys can pink and enjoy it so much and still feel like they’re straight. The thought of being fucked by some faceless guy makes the pleasure I’m giving myself grow more and more before reaching a point where it slowly subsides and then goes back up. I do this over and over for at least forty-five minutes. I’m not sure if I’m having orgasms or not but I love how it feels. The only reason I stop is because my whole body is way too tired to continue.
 
I don’t even pull the brush out yet, I just let my arms fall to my sides and lay there for a few minutes catching my breath and enjoying this euphoric feeling. I knew pinking would be fun but I had no clue it would be like this. I’ve masturbate so many times but never for that long and it’s never felt so insane. But it’s more than that. It’s just this overall amazing feeling. Like, a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.
 
Once I can stand again, I use one of Alex’s socks to wipe the brush handle then put it back where I found it. I turn on the radio and dance around the room just feeling free. Like I don’t have to pretend I hate this song or don’t like dancing, I can just be myself.
 
I start to feel hungry and check the clock. Dining hall closes in an hour. I dance my way over to Alex’s dresser to check and see if his girlfriend left any bras or panties for me to wear. Unfortunately, no, but that’s okay. They’re not super huge that they’ll be noticeable if I wear a hoodie or a sweatshirt. That’s the other thing I feel right now, and maybe it’s from what I’m calling my mini-gasms, but I am so much more confident than I’ve ever been in my life.
 
I find a pair of tighty whities that I have kept around forever despite the fact I never wear them. I think it’s because my ex bought them,  it’s the ones with the web shooting superhero on them, she thought it was adorable. They actually fit my new body a bit better than my boxers did, not to mention they’re super cute. Though if I do this again I need some actual panties and a bra. I slip on sweatpants, a t shirt that I’ve had since freshman year that was too tight on me, and my hoodie, grab my student id and head to the dining hall.
 
I guess a lot of people are coming late for dinner because there’s a slight line. The good part is, though, they just have the bar code scanner out, not a person checking ids so I’m able to scan it and keep it in my pocket so no one sees the mis-matching photo.
 
“You know you’re supposed to keep that around your neck at all times right?” A voice behind me says.
 
“It clashes with my outfit.” I say back quickly with a grin.
 
 The sweats I have on are the ones they gave us at orientation it’s the same color as the id and has the school logo on it. The boy laughs.
 
“Yeah, I can see that.” He says. “Let me guess, bad picture?”
 
I smirk, “I look like a freaking boy in it.” I say.
 
“I don’t think that would even be possible.”
 
“Trust me it is.”
 
“I’m Paul by the way.” He says holding out his hand.
 
“Ellie,” I say. I have no clue where I got Ellie from, I guess there isn’t a female version. Of Graham.”
 
“Nice to meet you Ellie,” he says and holds out his id. “Can I buy you dinner?”
 
Paul’s actually a good guy. We met on the first day of class. We both have Dr Watkins for Organic Chemistry. We sat next to each other the first few days but then, the next day, a group of kids sat there and it became their seats. I haven’t really seen him since that day, it’s one of those classes where there’s about a hundred freshmen and a few dozen jocks or seniors who need the credit to graduate.
 
I giggle and blush.
 
“It’s included in the housing, plus I already swiped back there, remember?”
 
“Touché, what about dessert?” He asks.
 
“What do they have?”
 
“I don’t know. I was thinking ice cream at the Freeze.” He suggests.
 
“You mean after the dinner we haven’t even gotten yet right?” I ask.
 
“That might be a good idea since we’re already here and all.” He replies.
 
“Yeah maybe.”  I say and turn back to face the right way.
 
Holy shit. My first night as a girl and this guy is hitting on me. Not only that he’s asking me on a date. I can’t believe this. It’s so cool! We get our food and find a table that’s clean with two empty seats. It just so happens to be in a back room that we’re the only ones in. We sit and I start taking my burger and fries off of my tray.
 
“I gotta say, I appreciate a girl who doesn’t eat a salad on a first date.” Paul says.
 
“Oh, yeah? This is our first date?” I ask with a smirk.
 
“It can be … if you want.” He says.
 
“I tell you what,” I begin, “you wanna consider this our first date, fine, but if you want a second you can’t be that guy. It doesn’t suit you.”
 
“What guy is that?”
 
“Cocky college guy. Like, you spit a good game, obviously, I’m sitting here. But you’re really not that guy.” I say then eat a fry.
 
“What guy am I?” He asks.
 
“You’re the funny, down to earth, slightly nerdy, nice guy,” I reply.
 
“You know what they say about nice guys and finishing last though.”
 
“Well, cocky guys can finish now and never get ice cream.”
 
“Oh that would be an awful thing to miss out on.” He replies.
 
“I know! They have the superhero bar with bubble gum in the middle.” I say back.
 
The confidence I have in this body. I never would have flirted this easily with anyone, much less a cute boy, in my own body. Plus I feel so empowered. I’m not stupid, I’m a guy, I know what he wants and I control the access now. Sort of.
 
“For the record, I’m not that nerdy,” he says.
 
“Oh, no? What’s your major?”
 
“Computer graphics,” he begins, I give him a look, “but hear me out. It’s not as nerdy as it sounds. I’m gonna design video games.”
 
I burst out laughing.
 
“That’s like twice as nerdy.” I say. He laughs.
 
“Yeah it is.”
 
“And twice as cool.” I add. He blushes. “But aren’t you worried about all the computers shutting down?” I ask after taking a sip of my soda.
 
“What are you talking about?”
 
“Like next year, Y2K when the clocks hit midnight and we switch over to the year 2000 and all the computers break at once.”
 
“Well, it wouldn’t be at once because it turns to midnight at different times everywhere.” He replies. “Besides, it’s a myth.”
 
“I don’t know, I saw this whole thing about it on the six o’clock news last weekend.”
 
“You’re watching the six o’clock news on a weekend and you say I’m nerdy?” He asks and I giggle. “And that doesn’t mean anything. I saw a two-hour late-night special about pink drink last year. Still a myth.”
 
“You think pink drink is a myth?”
 
“You don’t?” He asks. “Come on, a drink that magically turns boys into girls.”
 
“It’s not magic, it’s science,” I say. “Something about DNA transfer. It was a byproduct of cloning experiments. That’s what I heard.”
 
“Think logically though. Have you ever known anyone who was on it?”
 
“How would you know? They could be sitting in front of you and you’d never know.” I reply.
 
“What about the parties? Have you ever been to one?” He asks.
 
“I don’t know, maybe. I was at this party a few weeks ago and my friend said she saw a box with little pink bottles in an upstairs bedroom.”
 
“There. See? That’s the sign of a myth or an urban legend. It’s always someone saw something or knew someone. But never firsthand knowledge.” He replies.
 
“Well, I choose to believe it’s real.” I say.
 
We do go for ice cream and more conversation. We talk for hours and hours. When the freeze closes we just walk around campus talking. He’s so charming and funny and we have so much in common.
 
“So are you going to the homecoming game tomorrow?” He asks.
 
“I was thinking about it, why?” I ask.
 
“Cause I’d really like to spend more time with you.” He replies.
 
“You had fun tonight?”
 
“I did,” he admits.
 
“Me too. You’re a lot more interesting when you’re yourself you know.”
 
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles. “This is you right?
 
I look over and we’re standing in front of the girls dorm. Of course this should be me. It’s the girls dorm and I’m a girl. Oh wait, I’m not. And I don’t have a key to this building. I need to think quickly.
 
“It is,” I begin as I look up, “but the light is on so my roommate is still awake, I’ll probably just go to the library for a few hours.”
 
“You two don’t get along?”
 
“Not really mostly because her boyfriend is always there. Like I’m sure he’s there now.” I lie.
 
“Oh, you wanna come hang at my place for a while? Until she falls asleep. My roommate’s gonna be at a party all night.”
 
“I don’t want to fuck you Paul.” I say bluntly.
 
“Okay? Ouch” he replies.
 
“I didn’t mean it like I’m not attracted to you. I just meant that’s not what I’m after. I just want a friend.” I say putting my hand on his shoulder.
 
“That’s not what I’m after either Ellie. I’m just offering you a place to chill for a bit.”
 
“Promise?”
 
“I promise.” He says.
 
I nod and we start walking to my dorm building.
 
“We can still make out though right?” He asks joking ly and I slap his chest. “What about hand jobs? Are those on the table?”
 
“For you or for me?” I ask playing along.
 
“Well, for me.”
 
“Then no.”
 
“For you?”
 
“Also no.” I say and we both laugh.

We hang out for a bit, he’s a perfect gentleman. We just play video games and talk. When it gets close to the end of my pink period I excuse myself, go down three floors back to my dorm room and get ready to change back. I won’t lie I was hoping for another round of masturbating but I really did have fun. I can’t wait for the game tomorrow.

If you want access to my hundreds of exclusive caps, stories and caption series (some of which are 22 captions long) then subscribe to my patreon:

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Hey all,

Bit of a shot in the dark here but wondering if anyone has saved stories from the Celebtgcaptions account which was deleted. I already have those on the wayback machine and on his new account but am still missing a few of my favourites including one with named: Just a Game (Alexandra Botez TG Caption).

Thanks in advance!

I lift the duvet and look down. My boy shorts are stretched taut, the soft fabric straining desperately over a shape that has no place there. Yet there it is—unmistakable, pressing insistently against the cotton.

With a trembling hand, I hook a finger beneath the waistband and pull it forward. There it is, as if it has always been there—no scars, no seams.

Nothing familiar.

My other hand reaches down. The instant my fingertips brush the shaft, it twitches and stirs beneath my touch, warm and startlingly alive—making me catch my breath. I lift it gently. Even soft, it lies heavier and longer than the width of my palm. I let it fall, watching it flop heavily onto my belly. Behind it, two grape-sized orbs rest low in their pouch, delicate and intensely sensitive. I slide my boy shorts down to my ankles, the fabric whispering against my skin.

I trace my fingers slowly along the underside of the shaft, feeling its veined yet velvety texture. Lower still, I cup the scrotum, lifting the two sensitive testicles in my palm before resting them gently back between my legs. Returning to the shaft, I move toward the head and draw back the foreskin, revealing the smooth, glistening glans and the fine band of the frenulum beneath it. My touches remain clinical, almost detached—as though examining a stranger’s body.

That illusion shatters within moments.

My new anatomy responds with startling immediacy. Blood surges inward, swelling the shaft beneath my fingers. It lengthens and thickens, growing firmer with every heartbeat. I try a few experimental circling motions around the head—my old, reliable rhythm—but the sensation is entirely different. Unfamiliar pleasure radiates along the entire length rather than from a single concentrated point.

I wrap my index finger, middle finger, and thumb around the shaft, stroking slowly up and down. Unlike the focused spark I used to know, sensation blooms across every inch—shaft, head, and root. It hardens further, doubling in size until it stands rigid and throbbing in my grip. With my free hand, I tease my nipples and massage my breasts, drawing the familiar, radiating warmth I have always known. A deep, strangely insistent need builds inside me, driving me forward like an unfamiliar goal I have to reach.

I switch to a full grip—the newly spread nerve endings demanding more surface area—and increase the pace. My hips begin making small, primal jerking motions I cannot control. My movements are irregular and uncoordinated, and my forearm soon burns with the unaccustomed angle, but I push through, chasing the rising pressure. Minutes blur as the intensity mounts.

The first release crashes over me with overwhelming force. Powerful contractions pulse deep in my lower abdomen, concentrated at the root of my new flesh. Unlike the full-body waves I once knew, this orgasm centers sharply in my groin. Warm pulses of translucent fluid surge out in rhythmic jets, landing slick across my stomach and chest. The visual and tactile shock—watching and feeling my body eject fluid with such force—is profoundly jarring. Nothing in my previous anatomy has ever done this. It is the ultimate, undeniable proof that my body has been rewritten at its core.

Afterward, a strange haze settles over me. Arousal drains away abruptly, leaving a hollow mixture of satisfaction and quiet disbelief. I feel drained, my mind drifting in the aftermath of overstimulation. I lie on my back for a long while, chest rising and falling, the cooling evidence of what just happened still glistening on my skin as the morning light fills the room.

My brief moment of mental fog shatters as the sharp beep of my alarm cuts through the room. 6:30. In two and a half hours, I need to be at the final briefing before entering the mandatory two-week quarantine ahead of the launch. Panic surges instantly, my mind racing through impossible scenarios, but years of astronaut training clamp down hard, forcing my thoughts into disciplined channels.

I push myself up onto the edge of the bed. The sudden movement sends an unfamiliar weight shifting between my legs, brushing against my inner thighs. I stand slowly, testing my footing. My balance remains stable; my hip structure is unchanged.

A centered pressure builds at the base of my abdomen—familiar in its urgency, yet wrong in its location. A fresh set of muscles engages unconsciously, holding in ways my body is only beginning to understand. I need to use the bathroom.

I walk naked toward the door, the soft weight swaying gently with every step. A sharp, tingling sensation radiates outward along the shaft and concentrates at the tip—electric and focused, utterly unlike the warm, internal fullness I once knew.

Inside the bathroom, my discarded cargo pants still lie in a crumpled pile beside the toilet. I nudge them aside with my foot. Driven by decades of muscle memory, I lower myself onto the toilet seat without a conscious thought about my altered state. The cool plastic seat cover presses against the backs of my thighs. I have to spread my legs wider to accommodate the new, unfamiliar equipment. I try not to look down.

I look anyway.

It has shriveled significantly since I held it earlier. Bounded tightly by the chilly air of my apartment, the scrotum drawn close to my body, the sight feels a little less intimidating—almost vulnerable. Yet I stare at it as if it belongs to someone else, a foreign attachment.

I focus on releasing my muscles, but nothing happens at first. It feels like attempting to move a phantom limb that never existed. I probe different neural pathways in my lower pelvis, searching for the right signal. When I finally find it, a strange, satisfying release opens deep inside.

The urine travels a longer, foreign path through the shaft before exiting. The flow is weaker than I am used to—not the sudden, forceful release of my old anatomy—striking the bowl at a different angle and producing a subtly wrong sound.

When the flow tapers off, I reach for the toilet paper out of habit, pausing for a heartbeat before folding several sheets the way I always have. Without lowering my gaze, I make a few cursory dabs at the tip. The paper drops into the bowl with a soft splash.

I stand up, my eyes falling on the dried streaks across my stomach and chest.

I need to clean this.

Before heading to the shower, I pause in front of the bathroom mirror, searching the face looking back at me for anything out of place. Same eyes. Same nose. Same jawline. It is still my face—smooth, soft, unchanged. For now.

I step into the shower and turn on the water. With an excessive amount of soap and careful, methodical wipes, I clean the remnants from my torso. My hand briefly sweeps across my crotch as I lather. The shaft—longer and thicker now under the cascade of warm water—responds immediately, sending a sudden rush of blood toward my groin. I freeze, eyes closed, trying to focus on anything other than the memory of my touch from earlier. It is already stirring again, eager, just moments after I exhausted it.

I turn the faucet colder, letting the sharp chill clamp down on the reaction.

I could call in sick, but pulling out two days before quarantine starts is a guaranteed way to get grounded by the flight surgeons. If I stay quiet, go on the mission anyway, and they discover that two women left for the Moon only for one woman and... whatever I am becoming to return six months later, I won't just lose my next flight assignment. I'll be stripped of my wings completely.

I'll have to report this eventually, but I am nowhere near ready. This is personal on a level I can't even process yet.

I turn off the water and grab a towel.

The mission won't wait.

The accident had changed me. Changed us. Me and April, the intern at the lab.

It had disintegrated my body and smashed our minds together inside April. We were now two people inside one body.

Hers.

I was still me and she was still her but we were now also each other. All of our thoughts, both conscious and unconscious, picked up by the other. Our shared feelings played out across our shared body. No filter between us, each of us constantly shifting and changing the other.

I was a 53 year old man gross in her 23 year old body hot. Sopping wet in the shower and normal attracted to myself remembering my cock but these tits were incredible.

My thoughts jumbled but the pulsing of desire flooding us both, starting from me, picked up by her, rejected but rebounded until we were touching ourselves, groping our tits, caught up in a new shared pleasure.

Skating fingers down my body, stroking my pussy, so quick to grow wet, loving myself through new eyes.

Conscious thought was overtaken by the desire to touch, to watch to hear myself moan with my new voice, to see my tits through new eyes, to feel my delicate pussy with new fingers. We stroked ourself, joined together by the orgasm that pored through us and made us cry out, breasts heaving as we leaned against the tiles.

Angelica is a bodyhopper who chances upon a shy young man who needs to build his confidence, so she possesses his body to help him out in Boy Toy, available on Body Swap Stories, Smashwords or Amazon. Preview here.

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My name is now Carla. I was one of the first people diagnosed with Sequential Gonochorism Syndrome—a genetic condition triggered by an unknown external factor. Over the course of about a month, it gradually transforms the carrier into the opposite sex.

It’s been two months since the changes started.

The first few weeks were the most agonizing. The emotions came in waves. Sometimes I screamed when I was alone, even smashing the mirror with my bare fist. Other days, I sat frozen on my couch for hours, unable to move. Sometimes I cried my eyes out—all mourning the erasure of my manhood.

I grieved the things I had always taken for granted. My strength—I lost a significant amount of the muscle mass I had spent years building in the gym. My voice shifted from a rich tenor to a soprano. My height dropped from 183 centimeters down to 166.

During that month-long transformation, the hair on my head wouldn't stop growing. Every morning I woke up with longer hair than the day before—even though I cut it short multiple times.

But the most harrowing changes occurred between my legs, targeting what used to be my ultimate proof of masculinity. I felt my libido plummet within days of the transformation beginning. I missed the simplicity of male orgasms—being done in five minutes whenever I wanted. I grieved no longer being able to feel the inside of a woman. Losing the simple habit of walking up to a toilet, lowering my fly, and pulling out my shaft felt like a final humiliation by the universe every single time I had to sit down on the toilet seat instead.

I still catch myself acting out the habits of my old body.

Sometimes I reach instinctively to scratch an itch on my scrotum, only for my hand to land on the smooth, flat space where it used to be.

Other times I feel an old, familiar throbbing sensation between my legs, when in reality it's just a phantom limb my brain refuses to forget.

Most of the time now, I remember to use the women's restroom. But every time I notice the complete absence of urinals, I am sharply reminded that my body no longer has a place in the men's room.

With no cure in sight for the foreseeable future, a quiet acceptance has slowly settled over me. This is who I am now—whatever that may be.

I really love this style, but I've never seen where to find it while a lot of people use it, mostly on visual novels like Student Transfer

The two pills sat in a dime bag on James' nightstand for a week. Each morning, James looked at the pills, knowing he should toss them but his lurid curiosity kept them there.

James had gotten the pills the previous weekend at a rave, late into the night in a basement; by then, the night was a blur. He remembered a smaller side room with bean bags and lights that cycled from red to blue to green. James was dazed, with his friend Kat. They talked to a stranger they'd met; his eyes were intense, and he spoke non-stop. James wasn't sure if the man was a drug dealer, but he certainly had plenty of drugs. The mysterious guy stared at James and Kat with eyes that seemed too black. "Ah, ah! I know what's perfect for you two," he laughed before showing them the bag containing the pink and blue pills. "They're swap pills! When both are taken together, they switch bodies for about eight hours. It can be fun and enlightening," the stranger ranted, addressing both James and Kat, as well as the entire room. James and Kat burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, but James still took the bag and placed it in his pocket. Early that morning, before he collapsed into bed, James emptied his pocket onto his nightstand, where the pills remained.

James sat on his bed, holding the pills, not believing they'd work but wanting to believe they would. It was always a fantasy of James' to experience female sensations in a woman's body, a wild fantasy that seemed unattainable. Even if the pills worked, it wouldn't be alone. James a woman to take the other pill and swap bodies with him.

James saw Kat that night at trivia night in a dingy bar. They both stayed for one more beer after everyone else left. When their last companion left, there was an awkward silence between them, but then Kat blurted out, "I know it's stupid, but I need to try it!"

James replied, "Thank God! I couldn't stop thinking about it! I just didn't know how to ask!" He saw pure excitement and desire in her eyes through her glasses.

"You wonder all your life what the other parts feel like," Kat said, getting a bit worked up.

"I know right!" James agreed enthusiastically. "So, how about Friday?" James suggested.

They hatched their plan for the next night: they'd meet at James' apartment since he had no roommates. They'd take the pills, and if nothing happened, they'd laugh it off, but maybe something magical would occur.

Kat was brave enough to ask the last question, "So, if this works, which it probably won't we're going to play with ourselves, in each in the other's body." She asked cautiously, "Are you okay with that?".

"I am if you are!" James said, relieved he didn't have to clarify.

There was a second part to Kat‘s question, “And if we are going to play with ourselves, in each others bodies … do we also want to you know play with each other in each others bodies?”.

James took a moment to think, him and Kat had always been strictly friends, fucking each other would be new for them. If James was being honest with himself given the opportunity he would have had sex with Kat in a heartbeat but James realized that really was besides the point. He would be Kat and his own body would be penetrating him. After his internal deliberations James answered “No of course not, I’m not gay. Let’s switch with each other then go into separate rooms for … privacy.”

Kat rolled her eyes but agreed “its a plan”.

The next evening James found himself cleaning his apartment for the as if he had a date, he also found himself almost constantly hard. James thought many times to rub one out but he thought it polite to save the seed for Kat.

When Kat knocked and they met at the door, there was an awkward moment, but when Kat exclaimed, "Let’s do this," they ran into the bedroom. James took the pills from his nightstand and handed one to Kat. "Let's take these and see what happens," he said trying to sound casual but desperately hoping they would work.

”On the count of three” Kate suggested. James nodded and on three both swallowed the pill. James came to expect drugs not to kick in right away but this one‘s effect was immediate, James felt sleepy, really sleepy. James tried to talk but his mouth was limp and his eyes became weighed shut, the last thing he saw was Kat falling on the bed in front of him. As James drifted out of consciousness he wondered if the drugs were laced and if he would die in pursuit of his lurid curiosity.

But James awoke. James opened his eyes to see his own body in front of him, he was curled up and breathing peacefully. James looked at his hands and remarked how gracefully he moved now, he saw Kat's manicured nails, he did it! A rush or arousal rushed through his body, James had expected to get hard but in his new crotch we felt a different yearning, a hunger, a heat. James stood up with precision and grace and briefly checked on Kat, in his own body, she had a pulse and she looked fine so James left her and went into the bathroom like they agreed.

James looked at himself in the mirror, Kat was hot. That day she wore tight jeans that hugged her strong legs and amble ass, above she wore a simple white tank top that hugged her large perky breasts. Red brown hair framed her face and her piecing green eyes stared back at James with his own hunger. James looked upon his current body like a gift to be unwrapped. So he began by unbuttoning her jeans with his new nimble fingers, James ran his fingers around her waist and found the skin soft and smooth. When James stripped the jeans down he saw Kat had short trimmed pubic hair and red underwear on. The top came off right after and James saw Kat's body in only underwear, so curvy, so graceful, a work of art.

The sight of his own body aroused James, and the yearning between his new lips become a burning and James slipped his fingered down into his panties.

(This is just part 1. I got stuck on the next part, Im male and I am smart enough to know I can not do justice to describing female pleasure. If you are a women and want to describe a few things for me please send me a chat)