But first a few public service announcements:

If you’re not alphabet mafia friendly, this post is probably not for you.

While I do enjoy a little of hyper-femeninity and silly porn-logic in my characters and plot, I am not interested in: b*mbofication, free-use, humiliation, and non-con.

I tagged this post as F4 because I’ll be playing currently female characters who used to be male not so long ago and are still exploring their new bodies. I can play a male or female-to-male character if the story you pitch is good enough.

So you’ve been bitten by a radioactive spider... and now have tits?! No, you’ve got jugs!

Come on, let’s all calm down. They’re a little over a D cup, okay? I can fit a DD bra, but it kinda feels like cheating!

Anyboob...

Hi! It’s me, Julia Carpenter. Your neighborhood friendly, unintentional Cassie from Euphoria doppelgänger, Spiderman. Spider-person? Spider-Woman! If you thought that fighting crime and trying to balance your school, personal, and romantic lives; all while wearing tights was hard. Try actually finding a cute sportsbra that keeps the gurls comfy without feeling like it’s a symbiote trying to strangle you –Actually, scratch that. Hey Siri, text Octavius I have an hour long spot on my schedule this Thursday at three-thirty p.m. for our casual choking session. Period. No strings attached, cherry blossom emoji, octopus emoji, hot face emoji, period. Pun intended, smirking face emoji, face with rolling eyes emoji. Period– while being ostracized by the guys that used to bully you and the girls you had a crush on alike!

Who are you? A former male friend fruitlessly trying ‘not to ruin’ our friendship? A former or new feminist female friend who guide’s me through my newly found femininity? A date with a fragile ego trying to compensate with rough enthusiastic sex how I’m literally better at everything you find dear: school, science, wit, strength; well sex, too? We both know I could take a harder pounding but you’re at your limit and I’ll take what a gurl in this economy can get. A ethical supervillain or one with a twisted moral compass but over-all decent values? Who would’ve thought that Ryno was a consent advocate! He was simply frustrated at not being able to properly relief his girthy male urges.

The Reverend’s Daughter

You’ve seen her, literally everybody else at church have, specially the moms of all of those nineteen to twenty-three years old bachelors that want their sons to have nothing to do with her. She’s probably not even five-foot five, pale as the Holy Ghost, kinda chubby yet ridonculously flexible (you would know from her cheerleading years and probably somewhere a bit more intimate than a football field or the outdoorsy Saturday Youth activities), green-eyed, with long straight brown hair and bangs. She’s undoubtedly the Reverend’s daughter, the literal middle child of seven siblings at that, so you know what that means: she’s a riot! At least when her parents are not looking. But her rebelliousness doesn’t necessarily stems from shackled female rage defying patriarchal dogma. Everybody knows that her personality suddenly changed after that tragic accident, almost a year ago, where she barely survived waking up with amnesia after being in a coma for an entire month. Maybe that’s why her family turns an eye away at most of her controversially ungodly deeds.

Hannah noticed her attention drifting from her father’s boring sermon, something something about yet another whore from the Old Testament, when she suddenly she decided she felt absolutely ridiculous wearing black chucks, dark sheer tights, a black skater dress with a yellow floral patter hoisted at her waist with a thin tan belt, while standing up at Church. Her mother had insisted she wore a cream crocheted cardigan on top, you know, for modesty. And she couldn’t help it but to blush at the sudden moist warmth at her crotch while she contemplated with her head down ‘in prayer’ the ruffle edges of her white lettuce ankle socks. Or what little she could make out of her own feet from above her lustrous hair, perfectly trimmed in a horizontal line atop her generous bosom. It was that time of the month and wondered whether she had any liners in her purse. She thought that by now she could read the signs to prepare in advance, like the oven-like warmth of her womb and the painful tingles of her breasts, but she was too lazy to count days. She found herself awfully wet more often than not, and there was nothing she could do about it. But wearing cheeky lace boyshorts when she was ovulating didn’t help either. It was almost as if her own body was trying to remind her that she was slowly beginning to forget who she really was every time she caught herself feeling unbearably horny. Her father wasn’t her real father, nor his wife her real mother, neither their other six children her siblings. She had no siblings growing up she could remember. And her name wasn’t definitly Hannah!

What nobody knows is that she doesn’t actually suffer from amnesia, she simply doesn’t know anything about her life prior to her nine-teen birthday because she used to be a guy named Bob. How he came to be Hannah or whether people know about it or whether it (the body swapping) is maybe something done intentionally (or as some sort of punishment) is up for discussion.

The SecondLife™ Resort

What explains the sudden souring stock price of the old and long-forgotten virtual reality game of the early twenty-tens, * SecondLife™,* are two technological advances that revolutionized the VR industry: over the air neural-link consciousness transfer and bio3D printing. Linden Labs pivoted their almost dead game into a billion dollar hotel chain by allowing users to customize their avatar online and having then their consciousness transferred to their in-situ 3D printed physical body. Allowing for instant travel and the vacations of a life time with no luggage need as the guests just wake up in their hotel room already in the body of their dreams!

The premise is that the resorts on which SecondLife operates in or its specific dedicated areas are basically sex-positive, nudity-optional, public sex, consensual free use, orgy-like vacational havens.

I think I’d be playing an Alejandra Guilmant look alike, drinking a martini naked at a bar by the beach. Come and say hi and ask them literally anything, let them have a nice convo, and let’s hopefully have more fun while engaged in casual conversation around a shared topic of interest.

Wham-Bam! An X-Change Story

“Alexa, play Wham Bam by Clooney!”

It’s Friday and your body knows it. No, it literally does! You’ve become accustomed to popping the infamous fast-acting, temporary, gender-swapping pill every single Friday night and while the minute hand on the clock at the wall seems forever stuck at four fifty-nine, you can’t wait to get home and live your best bubblegum-pink and platinum goddess of the glitter glam club life!

Altered Carbon

Can you imagine something more humiliating than swapping bodies with your own mom? Let alone living a single day of your social life in her body!

Hi! I’m Elias Ortega, son of Kristin Ortega and Elias Ryker. And although I never met my father, I live a happy life with my mother who’s a Lead Detective at the Bay City Police Department. Her job, although it’s mostly boring paperwork nowadays, sometimes requires her to be literally male and, given the shortages of bodies in the city, I sometimes have no option but to let her borrow mine. You’d think that there’s no woman you’d fine less attractive than your mom. But when you find yourself in the body of a feisty 5’2” tall white latina of medium sized breasts, wide birthing hips, and a starkingly flat crotch of smooth plump lips adored by a thick landing-strip. That on top of all of that has a strikingly high libido, you can’t help it by to indulge in the pleasure your M.I.L.M (Mom I’d Like to Masturbate) body has to give.

For this one Kristin and Elias can either be in non-romantic completely casual incestuous agreement or not. Aside of living together, being intimate, and sometimes displaying affection publicly or making spicy comments about each other in front of others, and swapping bodies, they live completely regular lives outside of their household.

Soccer Moms

According to Wikipedia (shut up it’s a joke!):

“Soccer mom is a term that broadly refers to an American, Canadian, or Australian, middle-class, suburban woman who spends a significant amount of her time transporting her children to sporting events or other activities, whether or not they are soccer related. It came into widespread use during the 1996 United States presidential election and over time has come to take on an unfavorable connotation.”

The unfavorable connotation being that with the commercialization of bodyswap technology the term was appropriated by the husbands of so-called hotwives –a married woman who has sexual relationships outside of her marriage, with the full knowledge and consent of her husband, who himself doesn't have affairs– who would then trade places, in literally change bodies, with them and live a sex positive life as their own wives. Often cosplaying as soccer moms, whether they had offspring or not, as they would gather around private spaces like country-clubs to discuss all things feminine with other former husbands now proper soccer moms and indulge in all sort of adult practices.

Cuntboys

What would happen if the so-called involuntary celibates found a way to get themselves literal, anatomically accurate, and physiologically fully functioning lady-parts. Effectively becoming what we now know as transmen themselves? These former inces, now so called cuntboys would keep their masculine physical attributes while embracing all things tangentially related to their new set of genitalia. From reproductive right to self-care and self-pleasure.

About me: I usually write in the third person past tense. I don’t have any preference about your style. I prefer quality over quantity and world-building to roleplaying. I am looking for a creative partner to discuss a world for any of the scenarios above or your own. I can reply once or twice a day about a paragraph or two, depending on what we’ve agreed on and whether we’re roleplaying or setting the stage. If you want to roleplay, please send a lovely orange envelope with your premise, a description of your character, the kinks you had in mind, and a paragraph or two of writing to see whether we're a match. I was going for something long term, but if you want to chat about any of the themes above please reach out. My literary kinks involve: show don’t tell, lots of dialogue, in-character discussion about all sort of topics, casual conversation during sex, consensual rough enthusiastic sex, wit, humor, banter, communication and sex positivity.