I felt warm, yet goosebumps broke out all over my body and every hair stood. I held my breath as the strangest sensation I had ever felt in my life washed over me. I was stuck where I stood. I went to take a step back but found that I couldn't move. I wasn't afraid of a mouse, but a 3 feet tall, 75 pound mouse that was a different story.
Slightly bent, from where she’s curled up while sleeping, no doubt with a faint smile on her impossibly-beautiful face.Posted in Caption Series, CaptionsTagged Alyssa, Body Swap, Caption Stories, Captions, femsub, Maledom, mtf, Role Reversal, Submission, TG caption.Attacked by Silk Gloves. Either side of me, the legs of my mistress stretch away from me impossibly long, impossibly big. The other items below are TG stories which I've culled from old books and magazines.The light is almost gray beneath the sheets, cold and distant. Similarly, the 'Earth-349 Stories' are fan stories of a world where many familiar heroes are of the opposite sex. Read millions of eBooks and audiobooks on the web, iPad, iPhone and Android.The 'Modified Image Fiction' section contains stories that were inspired by some of the graphics in the Modified Images section.
Von Tier- und Fabelwesen-TF ber TG bis hin zu AP, AR und BodySwap ist.Like most mornings, I have a moment’s disorientation, a moment when I forget what’s happened to me, and briefly wonder where I am.For a split second, I even panic that I’ll be late for work. This trick involves a long glove that comes to life and leaps over the hand and arm of an unsuspecting spectator.Transformation Stories, Art and Talk - A bimonthly ezine (now deceased) whose 48. While searching for 'real magic', Paul locates a crotchety old woman named Rosemary, who can perform a special 'glove trick'.
My mistress, laughing in her sleep, almost as if she’s heard me.She shifts slightly, rolling on her side, and my whole world seems to lurch with her. Pinching her bum and asking if she’ll join me for a dirty weekend somewhere.Since they passed my cruel and awful sentence, I haven’t had to worry about anything at all.In the half-gloom, high above me, I hear a faint, sleepy giggle. And I remember that I will never, ever have to worry about going to work, ever again.Never have to worry about showing up on time, or wearing a suit, or flirting with Karen, my dark-haired, beautiful secretary. My memory reasserts itself. Stupidly, I still believe that these human actions are something I’m capable of.Then the image fades.
No longer have eyes.No longer have anything but these two plump lips that hang softly together, making up most of my body-mass. I no longer have hands or arms. Or at least close my eyes and go back to sleep.But I’m incapable of doing either. I want to angrily reach up and swat her hand away. It makes me feel so weak, so powerless.
Mentally, I scream and pray and beg for this not to happen. On a purely physical level, you understand. To see their big cocks, thick and bulbous and ready for sex, looming up before you, almost as big as you are.To feel yourself open up obediently, to let them slip their dicks in and violate you, before finally squirting their seed, letting it mingle with your juices, while the love of your life moans and whimpers and finally giggles with happiness.And the worst part is: I enjoy it. Makes me reluctantly open my hole and invite them in, while my mistress moans and writhes with pleasure.You, sat so comfortably at your tablet screen, reading my pathetic story from the safety of your own body, you’ve no idea what humiliation is.You can’t possibly know, until you’ve been debased and abused as I have in my new body, forced to endure things no human being has ever endured, to feel men’s fingers slip inside you. Makes me go all wet and sloppy. This tiny nub of nerves that comes alive when strong men touch it.Comes alive and makes me shiver, despite myself.
But neither was I Quasimodo. Surely every man likes to think he’s a modern Casanova, an unrivaled master of seduction.But I’m not exaggerating when I say I truly was.Oh, I wasn’t the pinnacle of male beauty or anything. Glad the angle my mistress sits at means I’m lost in the gloom of the toilet bowl, looking down at its impossibly vast porcelain cliffs even as part of me is forced to relax – the part I think of as my ‘mouth’ – and I feel that hot, warm jet go streaming out, hear it pattering into the water below, while my mistress sighs with happiness at the misery she’s inflicting on me.)Friends, since my transformation, I’ve had more sex than I ever did in a lifetime of affairs.I don’t think it’s boasting to say my affairs were legendary. I’d rather not talk too much about that, if you don’t mind.(Except to say I’m glad it always happens in the near dark. For giving birth…The second, I am pleased to say, hasn’t happened yet. When God, or evolution, or whatever created it – created me – he did so for three reasons only.
Tg Body Swap Stories Trial I Could
Every name, the names they swore at my trial I could never remember. Or, rather, I thought they were private.I can picture them all even now, over ten years after my awful punishment.I’m not lying, every single face of every woman I ever seduced I can still recall in my mind’s eye. Back when I could still tell jokes…)In my head, in my private thoughts, was another matter. How Karen used to smile at my jokes. I knew how to talk to women without seeming either overeager or overly shy or formal or condescending…(God.
Cunt from Jackson’s Office. In that contacts list the prosecutor made a great show of waving around the courtroom, brandishing it before the female jurors with a flourish, like she’d just found the smoking gun.You probably remember how the list went. What I privately thought of the women I was seeing, the women I was chasing.You’re going to say that I always called the Cunts.That word appeared in all my journals. You’re going to say it’s not my memory that was at fault, but what I privately called those girls.
Up on your moral high horses. Hey, I even voted for Hillary all those years ago, despite the questions then surrounding her candidacy.But I guess you bitches were never interested in evidence, were you?No, you’d already decided. You’ll find those hashtags I retweeted, those petitions I signed. Only as a little sop to my male pride.Don’t you understand irony? Don’t you realize men can say that word as a little private joke, to amuse themselves?Don’t you realize it’s not always sexist?Back when I still had my body, I was as feminist as they come.
Already, I can feel the faint, warm tingle as my sleeping form comes to life, slowly aroused by dreams I can’t see dreams my mistress is having about hunky men and depraved sex and endless copulation.Any minute now, I’ll feel her stir to life. I can already feel the gentle flow of blood into my plump lips. The gloom beneath the sheets is giving way to a warmer, softer light.Soon, my mistress will wake up. Like I could ever forget, even if I wanted too.It’s getting lighter now. The judge even laughed as she announced my sentence, pointed that staff at me the one that made my body start to warp and change.Made my arms bunch up against my sides… made my legs fold up into nothing… made my head vanish – cutting off my screams – and my body shrink, as a big slit opened down the front of me…Ha.
I’ve had tongues flicked across my surface, plunged deep into my hole. Who barely spends a night alone without a man by her side and, when she does, likes to play around with a dildo to help her relax.I didn’t know then that you’d make it someone I knew.And I didn’t know you’d alter her mind to make her into this… this monster.How can any woman have this much sex? I’ve been rubbed and fondled and penetrated more times than I can remember.I’ve had fingers slipped inside me. A girl with supermodel looks and a good job, who travels around the world, screwing for fun.
0 kommentar(er)
