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Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity. Ask me anything!
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
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Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
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What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
__________________________
Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
___________________________
What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
_____________________
What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
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Sophie is obsessed with the queen bee Ava, and wants to be here more than anything else. However, after tricking her into bodyswapping, Sophie realises that perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Ethereal, untouchable, unobtainable. She smelt like the forest, like flowers, fresh air, damp leaves, pine. Ava sat in the lecture, her desk positioned in a patch of sunlight streaming through the dusty windows. It illuminated her long thick hair, which glowed like lava rippling down her back. She hummed slightly as she drew, totally oblivious to the maths being taught, and unconcerned with the longing glances many of the boys, and some of the girls, were throwing at her, that I was throwing her. The bell rang, shaking me out of my jealous, longing daydream. Before I was even halfway through packing up, Ava was halfway across the room, the boys scrambling to walk with her to lunch. Ryan got there first, his loping walk hurried and then slowed to match Ava’s, already cracking jokes and flirting. The rest of us filed out glumly. She took the glow and warmth with her, tangled up in her long hair and perfect laugh. I knew I wasn’t the only one obsessed with her. She was everyone’s dream girl, dream best friend, dream body swap. Every single person in college wanted to be her, or be with her. I wasn’t quite sure where I fell in that binary. Like the moon guiding the tides, she directed what was trendy to wear and do. She would never explicitly say, but we would all understand. She was always the first, always the leader, never the follower. I was enthralled by her. Everyone called themselves her friend, but she never truly seemed close with anyone. She was beyond us all, but loved by everyone. Ava did well at uni, without seeming to study or care. She passed her class time drawing or daydreaming, distracting everyone around her. Perhaps only the lecturers, who I could see were frustrated with her lack of focus and always a day-late- assignments, had thought negatively of her. But they didn’t understand.
Unlike her, I cared about uni. A little too much. I tried so hard, but never seemed to get beyond a B grade. Uni work occupied my every waking moment. Obsession. I carried with me a constant knot in my stomach of panic about deadlines, grades, assignments, exams. This knot followed me when I fumbled my way through college friendships, one-night hookups, nights out in clubs where I spent the whole time stressing about the next day, even while the warmth of a shot spread from my throat. I was enjoying the new freedom away from parents, but I wasn’t Ava. I didn’t enjoy the company of the few friends I had, who hated parties and crowds, and preferred to stay in and study on a Saturday night. I hated my body, long and lanky, but bumpy in all the wrong places. That’s why, when I saw a sign for a voluntary participation in a PHD thesis experiment on the back of a bathroom stall door, I knew it was something I had to do.
Volunteers wanted:
The University of Oregon Faculty of Science is looking for participants for an exciting new technology trial. PhD students in physics have been developing a new machine that uses DNA technology to enable participants to temporarily swap bodies. While the brain and consciousness remains the same, your body and the five senses it experiences will be swapped with someone else. You will be paired randomly. The effects will take place instantly, and last for 2 hours until we swap you back. We will monitor your vitals, and will ask you post-experiment questions. You will receive a small amount of financial compensation for your time, and the experience can go towards your final mark.
Please contact sciencefacultyBS@uni.oregon.edu.
***
I stood opposite a huge football scholarship lad, clearly doing the experiment for the extra credit. His small, deep set eyes looked me up and down with a disgruntled expression. He was clearly unhappy to be swapping into my skinny frame. We were led into two white chambers filled with wires, flashing lights and screens by a masked and gloved experimental assistant. A piece of glass separated us. We avoided each others’ eyes while the assistants fussed around us, attaching heart monitors to our wrists, pads to our temples. A pinprick, some blood taken. A small lock of hair was cut from us both and placed in a small vial of violently purple liquid. As they closed the doors, my heart began to pulse. Harder and harder, my heart thumping painfully as a mechanical hum grew to a shriek. The lights grew blinding, reflected a million times off the pure white surfaces. I looked over at the lad, his face reflecting the fear I felt. I squeezed my eyes shut as the chair I sat on began to shake back and forth. And then, just when I thought it would become too much, and I was about to leap from my seat, it all stopped. My body felt heavy, a dull pain behind my brows. I opened my eyes, and saw myself. My body sat across from me, pale and scared looking, blinking slowly back at me. We both smiled at the same time, looking down at our new bodies, marvelling at the differences. Before I could do more than examine my thick, calloused fingers, the assistants led us away from the booths, and into a new room. Here waiting was the rest of the experiment participants, some chatting excitedly, comparing new bodies, others looking like they were in a state of shock. They ran us through multiple tests and exercises over the next 2 hours, lifting weights, running on a treadmill, balancing on a beam. Mental exercises too, maths, comprehension, reading from a selected text. My brain, still my own, struggled with the mental exercises, despite the time and care I spent on them. It was fun using a body used to physical exercise, lifting weights so much bigger than I could ever, running and not even gaining a sweat. I looked over at my body swap pair, struggling to lift even the smallest weights. I saw the jock’s brain struggling with even the basic maths questions, my body’s face red with frustration, a blank, confused expression I hoped to never be on my face again. At every stage of the process, all our vitals were checked by the assistants, who wrote on clipboards, faces trained to reveal nothing. As they led us back to the swapping room, I was almost disappointed to have to return to my body.
That night I dreamt I was in a forest, the smell of pine, flowers and leaves thick in my throat. I was surrounded by beautiful people, who all listened to every word I said, basking in my presence, admiring eyes looking up at me, laughing at my jokes. I looked down at my body. I was naked, but unselfconscious. My perfect skin dappled with sunlight, my long, thick hair cascading down my back. My eyes flew open in my dark dorm room. One word was on my lips. Ava.
By morning, I had formulated the perfect plan. The day passed by excruciatingly slowly, each class an agony, study breaks a torment. Lecturers, usually used to my constant audience participation and questions, gave me strange looks. My friend Bell asked the same question three times before I realised she was talking to me. At last, the evening came. The sleeping pills I had been given for my night time panic attacks safely in my pocket, I joined the Friday night end of week celebrations in the dormitory common room. Dismissing Belle’s invitation to play cards in her room, I dissolved the pills, three, far too many, in the boba tea I had bought on the way, hoping the sweetness would hide the bitter medicine taste. Now came the hard part. Gathering my courage, I approached Ava. She was sitting in the middle of the room on a long table. Around her sat her usual gaggle of admirers, like moths to a light. She was telling some story about a party, with everyone laughing far too loudly. I tried my best not to roll my eyes. As infatuated as I was with her, it made me cringe to see everyone else in the same state.
“Hey Ava”.
My sharp high voice cut across the giggles. Annoyed eyes turned to me, not happy that I had interrupted their queen bee. Ava turned slowly to face me, a slight smile on her perfect lips.
“Hey…what was your name again?”.
Someone laughed, and I flushed, mortified. But I pushed through.
“It’s Jess, I’m down the hall from you. I bought this boba but I forgot I don’t like this flavour, do you want it”.
“Ah.. yeah sure.” She took it from me, sloshing a bit down my shirt, to more giggles. Rolling her eyes to her friends, she turned back to them. In seconds they had forgotten all about me.
I sat in an armchair nearby, pretending to read my textbook, minutely focussed on Ava. Minutes past, nothing. Half an hour, nothing. Just as I was about to give up, I noticed how quiet she had become, smiling only slightly at all the attempts to catch her attention by her friends. Her beautiful eyelids began to droop, her eyes glazed. At long long last, she announced that she was skipping the party tonight, and was heading to bed. Smiling at the protests from her friends, she made her way down the hall to her room.
Minutes later, I followed. Her door thankfully was unlocked. She lay fully clothed on top of the covers, snoring lightly, her mouth open slightly. Her room smelt overwhelmingly like her. I stood staring at her, admiring her perfection. A group of freshmen ran past the door that I had forgotten to close behind me, yelling about who would hook-up with the hottest boy tonight. Shaken out of my daydream, I remembered I had to move quickly. Struggling with her deadweight, especially on my sore muscles from that brute using my body yesterday to workout, I began to drag her down the hall and through the fire escape. Outside was easier, as I put her on a trolly I had stolen from the cleaning cupboard earlier in the day. Finally arriving at the science faculty, I picked the lock to the experimental lab, heart pounding in my chest. Inside, the lights I flicked on blinded, reflected against the white surfaces. I dragged her body into one side of the swapping booth, slumping it in the chair. I cut a lock of her hair, stuffing it with trembling fingers into the purple liquid, and then did the same for mine. Luckily, it was all set up, presumably for an experiment the next day. Pushing the button just outside the door, I ran for my own seat, prepared for chaos of the swap. Lights, noise, heat, pressure.
I opened my eyes, hoping with every fibre of my being that it had worked, and saw me. My body had slipped down to the floor, as, luckily, the sleeping pills effects had been transferred too.
It worked.
*
The next morning I woke early, excited to try out my new body, my new life. The shower felt incredible on my new body. My senses seemed electrified since the swap. My skin soft and smooth, my hair long and silky in the water. And her products!! So many of them, each smelling like one small aspect of her delicious, unique scent. I spent an hour in the water, trying all of her expensive products, exploring my new, perfect body. I dressed slowly, searching through her designer wardrobe, trying on dresses, cropped shirts, short skirts, all things I would be far too insecure to wear on my own body. I wondered why she bothered with such nice clothes, as literally a potato sack would have been flattering. Choosing a revealing outfit inappropriate for the daytime, I saunted downstairs, marvelling at the confidence this body gave me. Eyes turned to me the instant I walked into the breakfast hall, taking in my bare legs and exposed midriff with admiration and jealousy. Three separate tables smiled and beckoned to me. This was going to be fun! I chose the one furthest from the door, enjoying the power I felt walking through the tables. I sat as a cute boy I recognised from a party launched into a long story about his latest hookup, shooting glances at me every few minutes, seeking my approval, seeing if he had made me jealous.
I laughed when it felt right, noticing how the rest of the group would laugh when I did. The power I was feeling!
Then, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I noticed my old body staring at me, fury in her eyes. I suppose Ava must have read the note I left explaining what I had done, tucked in her hand as I put my old body to bed. The boy talking noticed me staring at her.
“What’s up with Sophie? She looks so mad”
“No idea”
“Ignore her, what a weirdo, kinda ugly too”.
I was a little hurt, it was my body after all. But this was my body now, beautiful, perfect.
I laughed, revelling in the sound, tossing my long hair over my shoulder.
The next few weeks were a blur of people, admiration and laughter. It was lucky I had been so observant of Ava and was able to slip easily into her life, remembering people’s names and their connections to me and each other. I slept with countless of the hottest college boys, each time dismissing their attention after and their pleas for a date. I fell into a rhythm of parties, activities with my endless friend group, flirting and spending time at the beach with my perfect body. A number of times Ava in my old body attempted to talk to me, but I convinced my friends that she was stalking me, weirdly obsessed. From then on, they wouldn’t leave my side, and would glare at her if she came too close. She looked miserable and angry. I was so, so happy.
My grades fell as I had very little time for study and classes, but I couldn’t seem to make myself care. I was far too busy living what I knew to be the perfect life. This was until the day of the presentation assignment, in a class I shared with Ava. Underprepared, I stumbled through it. As my old body walked to the front of the class, I grinned at her, ready for her to be laughed at. At least she would do worse than me. She stood shyly in front of the class, and began to speak. She spoke clearly, gaining confidence as she went, diving deep into points I hadn’t even considered. She seemed well-practised. The more she went on, the more a knot in my stomach grew. She wasn’t worse than me, she wasn’t even average. Ava’s speech was perfect. I noticed with a jolt that she looked different. Her skin was clear, her hair was glossier. Even her teeth were whiter. After class, the professor asked me to stay behind. She told me off for being underprepared, reminding me of the grades needed to stay at college. I stammered through an apology, keen to return to my new friends and the bubble of happiness that hadn’t left since I body swapped.
However, my friends weren’t waiting for me at the door as they usually did. I rushed to the food hall where they were laughing and chatting. I joined them, but no-one seemed to notice, and I had nothing to say. Something felt different, and nothing could lessen the knot in my stomach.
That night I dreamt I was in a forest, the smell of pine and flowers and decaying leaves thick in my throat. I was surrounded by people but felt alone. I tried to speak, but only air could escape. I tried to scream, to cry for help, but no one listened, no one even looked my way. I realised I was held in a glass container, a box that separated me from the others. Blank faced, the crowd turned and left me. The smell of decay choked me as tears ran down my face onto the forest floor.
That moment marked a change, in both me and Ava. She stopped trying to talk to me. Her grades skyrocketed, and she was soon top of the year. People began to look at her, notice her. People wanted her, I saw it in their eyes, heard it in the stories of parties I wasn’t invited to anymore. Her style changed, clothes that fitted her, flattered her. I noticed. Her hair grew and she wore it out in waves, softening her sharp features. The knot in my stomach grew. Her body, childish, gawky and awkward while mine became athletic and elegant. My nails became bitten down till they bled. She laughed more, and people laughed with her, friends, my old friends. My hair began to thin, and I often found clumps of it in the shower. Her lips, once bitten and peeling became soft, her eyes once piercing and birdlike became sparkling and intelligent. My friends began to care less about my opinion, and would barely go to me for advice. She was constantly orbited by an ever growing group of friends. My grades were so low that the college was threatening expulsion.
I couldn’t go on like this. I thought I had chosen the perfect life, the perfect body. Why wasn’t it enough? How could she use my body and gain so much from it, while I had struggled my whole life.
“Please Ava”,
“Please can we swap back”.
Ethereal, untouchable, unobtainable. She smelt like the forest, like flowers, fresh air, damp leaves, pine. Ava sat in the lecture, her desk positioned in a patch of sunlight streaming through the dusty windows. It illuminated her long thick hair, which glowed like lava rippling down her back. She hummed slightly as she drew, totally oblivious to the maths being taught, and unconcerned with the longing glances many of the boys, and some of the girls, were throwing at her, that I was throwing her. The bell rang, shaking me out of my jealous, longing daydream. Before I was even halfway through packing up, Ava was halfway across the room, the boys scrambling to walk with her to lunch. Ryan got there first, his loping walk hurried and then slowed to match Ava’s, already cracking jokes and flirting. The rest of us filed out glumly. She took the glow and warmth with her, tangled up in her long hair and perfect laugh. I knew I wasn’t the only one obsessed with her. She was everyone’s dream girl, dream best friend, dream body swap. Every single person in college wanted to be her, or be with her. I wasn’t quite sure where I fell in that binary. Like the moon guiding the tides, she directed what was trendy to wear and do. She would never explicitly say, but we would all understand. She was always the first, always the leader, never the follower. I was enthralled by her. Everyone called themselves her friend, but she never truly seemed close with anyone. She was beyond us all, but loved by everyone. Ava did well at uni, without seeming to study or care. She passed her class time drawing or daydreaming, distracting everyone around her. Perhaps only the lecturers, who I could see were frustrated with her lack of focus and always a day-late- assignments, had thought negatively of her. But they didn’t understand.
Unlike her, I cared about uni. A little too much. I tried so hard, but never seemed to get beyond a B grade. Uni work occupied my every waking moment. Obsession. I carried with me a constant knot in my stomach of panic about deadlines, grades, assignments, exams. This knot followed me when I fumbled my way through college friendships, one-night hookups, nights out in clubs where I spent the whole time stressing about the next day, even while the warmth of a shot spread from my throat. I was enjoying the new freedom away from parents, but I wasn’t Ava. I didn’t enjoy the company of the few friends I had, who hated parties and crowds, and preferred to stay in and study on a Saturday night. I hated my body, long and lanky, but bumpy in all the wrong places. That’s why, when I saw a sign for a voluntary participation in a PHD thesis experiment on the back of a bathroom stall door, I knew it was something I had to do.
Volunteers wanted:
The University of Oregon Faculty of Science is looking for participants for an exciting new technology trial. PhD students in physics have been developing a new machine that uses DNA technology to enable participants to temporarily swap bodies. While the brain and consciousness remains the same, your body and the five senses it experiences will be swapped with someone else. You will be paired randomly. The effects will take place instantly, and last for 2 hours until we swap you back. We will monitor your vitals, and will ask you post-experiment questions. You will receive a small amount of financial compensation for your time, and the experience can go towards your final mark.
Please contact sciencefacultyBS@uni.oregon.edu.
***
I stood opposite a huge football scholarship lad, clearly doing the experiment for the extra credit. His small, deep set eyes looked me up and down with a disgruntled expression. He was clearly unhappy to be swapping into my skinny frame. We were led into two white chambers filled with wires, flashing lights and screens by a masked and gloved experimental assistant. A piece of glass separated us. We avoided each others’ eyes while the assistants fussed around us, attaching heart monitors to our wrists, pads to our temples. A pinprick, some blood taken. A small lock of hair was cut from us both and placed in a small vial of violently purple liquid. As they closed the doors, my heart began to pulse. Harder and harder, my heart thumping painfully as a mechanical hum grew to a shriek. The lights grew blinding, reflected a million times off the pure white surfaces. I looked over at the lad, his face reflecting the fear I felt. I squeezed my eyes shut as the chair I sat on began to shake back and forth. And then, just when I thought it would become too much, and I was about to leap from my seat, it all stopped. My body felt heavy, a dull pain behind my brows. I opened my eyes, and saw myself. My body sat across from me, pale and scared looking, blinking slowly back at me. We both smiled at the same time, looking down at our new bodies, marvelling at the differences. Before I could do more than examine my thick, calloused fingers, the assistants led us away from the booths, and into a new room. Here waiting was the rest of the experiment participants, some chatting excitedly, comparing new bodies, others looking like they were in a state of shock. They ran us through multiple tests and exercises over the next 2 hours, lifting weights, running on a treadmill, balancing on a beam. Mental exercises too, maths, comprehension, reading from a selected text. My brain, still my own, struggled with the mental exercises, despite the time and care I spent on them. It was fun using a body used to physical exercise, lifting weights so much bigger than I could ever, running and not even gaining a sweat. I looked over at my body swap pair, struggling to lift even the smallest weights. I saw the jock’s brain struggling with even the basic maths questions, my body’s face red with frustration, a blank, confused expression I hoped to never be on my face again. At every stage of the process, all our vitals were checked by the assistants, who wrote on clipboards, faces trained to reveal nothing. As they led us back to the swapping room, I was almost disappointed to have to return to my body.
That night I dreamt I was in a forest, the smell of pine, flowers and leaves thick in my throat. I was surrounded by beautiful people, who all listened to every word I said, basking in my presence, admiring eyes looking up at me, laughing at my jokes. I looked down at my body. I was naked, but unselfconscious. My perfect skin dappled with sunlight, my long, thick hair cascading down my back. My eyes flew open in my dark dorm room. One word was on my lips. Ava.
By morning, I had formulated the perfect plan. The day passed by excruciatingly slowly, each class an agony, study breaks a torment. Lecturers, usually used to my constant audience participation and questions, gave me strange looks. My friend Bell asked the same question three times before I realised she was talking to me. At last, the evening came. The sleeping pills I had been given for my night time panic attacks safely in my pocket, I joined the Friday night end of week celebrations in the dormitory common room. Dismissing Belle’s invitation to play cards in her room, I dissolved the pills, three, far too many, in the boba tea I had bought on the way, hoping the sweetness would hide the bitter medicine taste. Now came the hard part. Gathering my courage, I approached Ava. She was sitting in the middle of the room on a long table. Around her sat her usual gaggle of admirers, like moths to a light. She was telling some story about a party, with everyone laughing far too loudly. I tried my best not to roll my eyes. As infatuated as I was with her, it made me cringe to see everyone else in the same state.
“Hey Ava”.
My sharp high voice cut across the giggles. Annoyed eyes turned to me, not happy that I had interrupted their queen bee. Ava turned slowly to face me, a slight smile on her perfect lips.
“Hey…what was your name again?”.
Someone laughed, and I flushed, mortified. But I pushed through.
“It’s Jess, I’m down the hall from you. I bought this boba but I forgot I don’t like this flavour, do you want it”.
“Ah.. yeah sure.” She took it from me, sloshing a bit down my shirt, to more giggles. Rolling her eyes to her friends, she turned back to them. In seconds they had forgotten all about me.
I sat in an armchair nearby, pretending to read my textbook, minutely focussed on Ava. Minutes past, nothing. Half an hour, nothing. Just as I was about to give up, I noticed how quiet she had become, smiling only slightly at all the attempts to catch her attention by her friends. Her beautiful eyelids began to droop, her eyes glazed. At long long last, she announced that she was skipping the party tonight, and was heading to bed. Smiling at the protests from her friends, she made her way down the hall to her room.
Minutes later, I followed. Her door thankfully was unlocked. She lay fully clothed on top of the covers, snoring lightly, her mouth open slightly. Her room smelt overwhelmingly like her. I stood staring at her, admiring her perfection. A group of freshmen ran past the door that I had forgotten to close behind me, yelling about who would hook-up with the hottest boy tonight. Shaken out of my daydream, I remembered I had to move quickly. Struggling with her deadweight, especially on my sore muscles from that brute using my body yesterday to workout, I began to drag her down the hall and through the fire escape. Outside was easier, as I put her on a trolly I had stolen from the cleaning cupboard earlier in the day. Finally arriving at the science faculty, I picked the lock to the experimental lab, heart pounding in my chest. Inside, the lights I flicked on blinded, reflected against the white surfaces. I dragged her body into one side of the swapping booth, slumping it in the chair. I cut a lock of her hair, stuffing it with trembling fingers into the purple liquid, and then did the same for mine. Luckily, it was all set up, presumably for an experiment the next day. Pushing the button just outside the door, I ran for my own seat, prepared for chaos of the swap. Lights, noise, heat, pressure.
I opened my eyes, hoping with every fibre of my being that it had worked, and saw me. My body had slipped down to the floor, as, luckily, the sleeping pills effects had been transferred too.
It worked.
*
The next morning I woke early, excited to try out my new body, my new life. The shower felt incredible on my new body. My senses seemed electrified since the swap. My skin soft and smooth, my hair long and silky in the water. And her products!! So many of them, each smelling like one small aspect of her delicious, unique scent. I spent an hour in the water, trying all of her expensive products, exploring my new, perfect body. I dressed slowly, searching through her designer wardrobe, trying on dresses, cropped shirts, short skirts, all things I would be far too insecure to wear on my own body. I wondered why she bothered with such nice clothes, as literally a potato sack would have been flattering. Choosing a revealing outfit inappropriate for the daytime, I saunted downstairs, marvelling at the confidence this body gave me. Eyes turned to me the instant I walked into the breakfast hall, taking in my bare legs and exposed midriff with admiration and jealousy. Three separate tables smiled and beckoned to me. This was going to be fun! I chose the one furthest from the door, enjoying the power I felt walking through the tables. I sat as a cute boy I recognised from a party launched into a long story about his latest hookup, shooting glances at me every few minutes, seeking my approval, seeing if he had made me jealous.
I laughed when it felt right, noticing how the rest of the group would laugh when I did. The power I was feeling!
Then, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I noticed my old body staring at me, fury in her eyes. I suppose Ava must have read the note I left explaining what I had done, tucked in her hand as I put my old body to bed. The boy talking noticed me staring at her.
“What’s up with Sophie? She looks so mad”
“No idea”
“Ignore her, what a weirdo, kinda ugly too”.
I was a little hurt, it was my body after all. But this was my body now, beautiful, perfect.
I laughed, revelling in the sound, tossing my long hair over my shoulder.
The next few weeks were a blur of people, admiration and laughter. It was lucky I had been so observant of Ava and was able to slip easily into her life, remembering people’s names and their connections to me and each other. I slept with countless of the hottest college boys, each time dismissing their attention after and their pleas for a date. I fell into a rhythm of parties, activities with my endless friend group, flirting and spending time at the beach with my perfect body. A number of times Ava in my old body attempted to talk to me, but I convinced my friends that she was stalking me, weirdly obsessed. From then on, they wouldn’t leave my side, and would glare at her if she came too close. She looked miserable and angry. I was so, so happy.
My grades fell as I had very little time for study and classes, but I couldn’t seem to make myself care. I was far too busy living what I knew to be the perfect life. This was until the day of the presentation assignment, in a class I shared with Ava. Underprepared, I stumbled through it. As my old body walked to the front of the class, I grinned at her, ready for her to be laughed at. At least she would do worse than me. She stood shyly in front of the class, and began to speak. She spoke clearly, gaining confidence as she went, diving deep into points I hadn’t even considered. She seemed well-practised. The more she went on, the more a knot in my stomach grew. She wasn’t worse than me, she wasn’t even average. Ava’s speech was perfect. I noticed with a jolt that she looked different. Her skin was clear, her hair was glossier. Even her teeth were whiter. After class, the professor asked me to stay behind. She told me off for being underprepared, reminding me of the grades needed to stay at college. I stammered through an apology, keen to return to my new friends and the bubble of happiness that hadn’t left since I body swapped.
However, my friends weren’t waiting for me at the door as they usually did. I rushed to the food hall where they were laughing and chatting. I joined them, but no-one seemed to notice, and I had nothing to say. Something felt different, and nothing could lessen the knot in my stomach.
That night I dreamt I was in a forest, the smell of pine and flowers and decaying leaves thick in my throat. I was surrounded by people but felt alone. I tried to speak, but only air could escape. I tried to scream, to cry for help, but no one listened, no one even looked my way. I realised I was held in a glass container, a box that separated me from the others. Blank faced, the crowd turned and left me. The smell of decay choked me as tears ran down my face onto the forest floor.
That moment marked a change, in both me and Ava. She stopped trying to talk to me. Her grades skyrocketed, and she was soon top of the year. People began to look at her, notice her. People wanted her, I saw it in their eyes, heard it in the stories of parties I wasn’t invited to anymore. Her style changed, clothes that fitted her, flattered her. I noticed. Her hair grew and she wore it out in waves, softening her sharp features. The knot in my stomach grew. Her body, childish, gawky and awkward while mine became athletic and elegant. My nails became bitten down till they bled. She laughed more, and people laughed with her, friends, my old friends. My hair began to thin, and I often found clumps of it in the shower. Her lips, once bitten and peeling became soft, her eyes once piercing and birdlike became sparkling and intelligent. My friends began to care less about my opinion, and would barely go to me for advice. She was constantly orbited by an ever growing group of friends. My grades were so low that the college was threatening expulsion.
I couldn’t go on like this. I thought I had chosen the perfect life, the perfect body. Why wasn’t it enough? How could she use my body and gain so much from it, while I had struggled my whole life.
“Please Ava”,
“Please can we swap back”.
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Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity. Ask me anything!
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Sophie is obsessed with the queen bee Ava, and wants to be here more than anything else. However, after tricking her into bodyswapping, Sophie realises that perfection isn't all it's cracked up to be.
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