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Chapter 1: Cat got your tongue? in Adventures in Astral Projection - Feline Frenzie
by
Selimf18
· 02 Jan 2026
Your friend Michelle discovers that she can astral project, but you don't believe her at first. To prove it to you, she decides to swap spirits with her cat, and the proof is pretty convincing! However, when Michelle leaves to explore the world for an hour in the cat's body, things take an unexpected twist with the cat in her body....
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Spider-Man & ClayMJ - Issue 4: Getting into the Role in Spider-Man & MJ's Transformations Continuity Stories
by
ninhjimmy007
· 02 Jan 2026
Spider-Man fights a muscle woman symbiote, Syntilla. Suddenly, she finally got him and laughs: "Now that you belong us, prepare to be... snu snu." "Wait what?" Spider-Man says as she suddenly kisses Spider-man with her deep tongue into him and then she jerks off his genitals as he then came.
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Spider-Man & ClayMJ - Issue 3: The Sculptor in Spider-Man & MJ's Transformations Continuity Stories
by
ninhjimmy007
· 02 Jan 2026
There are no crimes today, so at home, Peter and ClayMJ-in-her-clay-monster form make love together and enjoy themselves. Then, she asks if he can plays her body, Peter replies as he's too old to play with the clay. Then she kisses her husband and tells him to give it a try he'll like it after that. He plays with her clay body, turns out, it's really fun
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The First Session in Sense Share
by
ArtificialFox
· 02 Jan 2026
Paula links Rex in while getting ready for a party. He experiences her body's sensations—brushing hair, applying makeup, choosing clothes—while she teases and performs for him. She shows off her body while denying him real exploration, enjoying the power. Rex is overwhelmed by the reality of physical sensation after years in VR.
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Chapter 1 in SECOND CHANCES
by
Silk
· 30 Dec 2025
Edwin Pierce, a shy and studious college student, finds his world turned upside down when Drew Bullard, the handsome and muscular captain of the football team, visits his dorm room. Drew's apology for past behavior quickly turns into a manipulative scheme, leaving Edwin both aroused and terrified as Drew blackmails him with a compromising video.
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New Adventures
You and your new wife Kimmy have the perfect lives - newly wed, good jobs, living in a nice house in a good area. It’s no wonder someone wanted to take it from you.
Ignorant of the dark magics and mad sciences of the world, you and Kimmy live the perfect, picturesque lives of a young suburban couple. But behind the scenes there are many who want to take those lives from you - either for themselves, or to tear you down.
CHARACTERS
Alex - You. Just an average guy, but with a gorgeous new wife and a good job as an accountant for shady technology company Verastill. 6’0 tall with some muscle definition, short cropped black hair.
Kimmy - Your new half-Asian 27 year old wife, a yoga instructor and part time cooking streamer. 5’7 toned body, brunette hair, C-cup breasts.
Susan - Kimmy’s 49 year old Asian mother and stay at home wife. She’s always been flirtatious with you, you think just to bring some excitement to the boredom of her own life. 5’4 chubby body, greying black hair, E-cup breasts.
Sheryl - Your 23 year old coworker, a huge nerd and scientist at Verastill. She is always seeking to push the boundaries of science. 5’5 fat body, long red hair, glasses, braces, C-cup breasts.
Kristy - Your 40 year old latina neighbour, a former stripper turned trophy wife married to a shady man who works in ‘shipping’. She’s nice to you, but Kimmy swears she gives her strange looks sometimes. 5’2 fit body with lip fillers and plastic surgery to enhance both her already sizeable butt and chest, dyed blonde hair, fake F-cup breasts.
Connor - Your best friend, 30 years old but unemployed. A bit of a stoner. He’s always been there for you, though, and for Kimmy. 5’10 out of shape body, tussled red hair.
Lila - Your ex, a 28 year old goth who sells crystals and dreamcatchers online alongside fake curses and hexes. You broke up with her, and you don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it. 4’11 with a petite body, very short black hair dyed purple, and A-cup breasts.
Tris - A 22 year old black prostitute you pass dropping Kimmy off for work and picking her up sometimes. She has propositioned you in the past, and though you’ve never accepted you often feel sorry for her. 5’6 with a slightly out of shape body, black braided hair, and D-cup breasts.
SETTING & WORLD
To you, the world is normal. The definition of ordinary. But behind the scenes witches practice black magic, evil corporations develop ethically questionable technology, ghosts hijack the bodies of the living, and cursed magic items warp reality without anyone knowing anything has changed.
Ignorant of the dark magics and mad sciences of the world, you and Kimmy live the perfect, picturesque lives of a young suburban couple. But behind the scenes there are many who want to take those lives from you - either for themselves, or to tear you down.
CHARACTERS
Alex - You. Just an average guy, but with a gorgeous new wife and a good job as an accountant for shady technology company Verastill. 6’0 tall with some muscle definition, short cropped black hair.
Kimmy - Your new half-Asian 27 year old wife, a yoga instructor and part time cooking streamer. 5’7 toned body, brunette hair, C-cup breasts.
Susan - Kimmy’s 49 year old Asian mother and stay at home wife. She’s always been flirtatious with you, you think just to bring some excitement to the boredom of her own life. 5’4 chubby body, greying black hair, E-cup breasts.
Sheryl - Your 23 year old coworker, a huge nerd and scientist at Verastill. She is always seeking to push the boundaries of science. 5’5 fat body, long red hair, glasses, braces, C-cup breasts.
Kristy - Your 40 year old latina neighbour, a former stripper turned trophy wife married to a shady man who works in ‘shipping’. She’s nice to you, but Kimmy swears she gives her strange looks sometimes. 5’2 fit body with lip fillers and plastic surgery to enhance both her already sizeable butt and chest, dyed blonde hair, fake F-cup breasts.
Connor - Your best friend, 30 years old but unemployed. A bit of a stoner. He’s always been there for you, though, and for Kimmy. 5’10 out of shape body, tussled red hair.
Lila - Your ex, a 28 year old goth who sells crystals and dreamcatchers online alongside fake curses and hexes. You broke up with her, and you don’t think she’s ever really gotten over it. 4’11 with a petite body, very short black hair dyed purple, and A-cup breasts.
Tris - A 22 year old black prostitute you pass dropping Kimmy off for work and picking her up sometimes. She has propositioned you in the past, and though you’ve never accepted you often feel sorry for her. 5’6 with a slightly out of shape body, black braided hair, and D-cup breasts.
SETTING & WORLD
To you, the world is normal. The definition of ordinary. But behind the scenes witches practice black magic, evil corporations develop ethically questionable technology, ghosts hijack the bodies of the living, and cursed magic items warp reality without anyone knowing anything has changed.
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Legal prostitution with ghosts! Spirits of all types flock to a nice venue where people rent out their bodies for ghost to use however they like… but let’s be honest, it’s usually for sex
VeilsLift Hotel is a Fancy older hotel with a twist, people check out rooms in hope of being possessed by the ghosts within. Some find it a thrill, others a turn on.
CHARACTERS
Madam Deskclerk- a stacked woman with knowledge beyond her years (due to her actually being a spirit possessing a young woman’s body). She recommends certain guests to specific rooms to appease the spirts in the room.
Numerous guests- guest of all kinds make their way to willingly become possessed!
SETTING & WORLD
VeilsLift Hotel is a nice vintage hotel with full amenities
VeilsLift Hotel is a Fancy older hotel with a twist, people check out rooms in hope of being possessed by the ghosts within. Some find it a thrill, others a turn on.
CHARACTERS
Madam Deskclerk- a stacked woman with knowledge beyond her years (due to her actually being a spirit possessing a young woman’s body). She recommends certain guests to specific rooms to appease the spirts in the room.
Numerous guests- guest of all kinds make their way to willingly become possessed!
SETTING & WORLD
VeilsLift Hotel is a nice vintage hotel with full amenities
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Technology had progressed so much to the point that hijacking a person's body has become possible... and companies specializing in dates and escort services have taken advantage of this tech!
Inspired by Japan's rental girlfriend trope, companies in countries around the world had tried to replicate it's success, but women never signed up... so they decided to take things into their own hands, by forcibly having women possessed by hired staff/actors to act as girlfriends for clients.
CHARACTERS
1. Anthony "Tony" Parker (the player), a man who bragged about having a perfect girlfriend (he says its his boss at one point, a girl at the gym at another, a cafe owner the next, and a girl he met during highschool and reconnected with), but never even had one to begin with. Now he's expected to bring a girlfriend to several family outings and hangouts with friends in the span of a couple of days.
2. Emily, the owner of the cafe he frequently goes to before work. She has blonde hair and eyes as blue as sapphires glinting in the sunlight.
3. Nicole, someone Tony met at the gym. She always wears outfits that show off her chest and ass, she's incredibly proud of her body and treats it like a temple.
4. Sam, Tony's friend at work. She's pretty kind, and her outfits are always distracting because of all the cleavage she shows... and it seems she isn't even aware of how distracting she can be.
5. Megan, a lonely and unattractive woman Tony was friends with in highschool, Tony found later on that she had a massive glowup over the last few years, and she's clearly out of his league now.
6. Anna, Tony's sister. She's slightly suspicious of Tony and his "girlfriend" and playfully teases him about when she'll get to meet her. She knows about Tony's tendency to lie when it comes to relationships, but doesn't really berate him for it, she just finds it funny how desperate he is to put up appearances.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day America.
Inspired by Japan's rental girlfriend trope, companies in countries around the world had tried to replicate it's success, but women never signed up... so they decided to take things into their own hands, by forcibly having women possessed by hired staff/actors to act as girlfriends for clients.
CHARACTERS
1. Anthony "Tony" Parker (the player), a man who bragged about having a perfect girlfriend (he says its his boss at one point, a girl at the gym at another, a cafe owner the next, and a girl he met during highschool and reconnected with), but never even had one to begin with. Now he's expected to bring a girlfriend to several family outings and hangouts with friends in the span of a couple of days.
2. Emily, the owner of the cafe he frequently goes to before work. She has blonde hair and eyes as blue as sapphires glinting in the sunlight.
3. Nicole, someone Tony met at the gym. She always wears outfits that show off her chest and ass, she's incredibly proud of her body and treats it like a temple.
4. Sam, Tony's friend at work. She's pretty kind, and her outfits are always distracting because of all the cleavage she shows... and it seems she isn't even aware of how distracting she can be.
5. Megan, a lonely and unattractive woman Tony was friends with in highschool, Tony found later on that she had a massive glowup over the last few years, and she's clearly out of his league now.
6. Anna, Tony's sister. She's slightly suspicious of Tony and his "girlfriend" and playfully teases him about when she'll get to meet her. She knows about Tony's tendency to lie when it comes to relationships, but doesn't really berate him for it, she just finds it funny how desperate he is to put up appearances.
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day America.
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A slacker get is abducted by a mind controlling alien overlord.. who then dies unexpectedly. This slacker now has complete access to a mind controlling tech army, only for perverted purposes
CHARACTERS
Mike Allan- 26 year old college dropout working as a pizza delivery guy part time. Not a lot of luck with women despite being attractive. Was selected to be the host body of an alien overlord…who dies. Leaving his entire army believing that Mike is now in charge. Using Zegnu’s tech, Mike can possess other human bodies, control humans like drones by beaming information into their head (via tech), and by converting people into human robots, turning them into obedient mindless drones
Lord Zegnu- evil alien overboard who uses possession and mind control technology to infiltrate and overthrow entire civilizations. He selects a local human to be his next host to possess, but dies of a natural cause in the process. Feared and had access to incredible technology allowing him to possess or control others (turning them into mindless robotic drones while controlled). Very secretive, which backfired after his death, allowing Mike to impersonate him.
Va’lor- first mate, just came into possession of a human body, but can transfer into a different body if required. Her current host is Audrey, a young brunette woman with a pixie cut, stacked breasts and a large bouncy booty and a few piercings. Obviously a looker and possessed due to attractiveness and knowledge (a doctorate candidate in biology).
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day, Mike is abducted in a green light from his home and beamed aboard the ship, where our story begins.
CHARACTERS
Mike Allan- 26 year old college dropout working as a pizza delivery guy part time. Not a lot of luck with women despite being attractive. Was selected to be the host body of an alien overlord…who dies. Leaving his entire army believing that Mike is now in charge. Using Zegnu’s tech, Mike can possess other human bodies, control humans like drones by beaming information into their head (via tech), and by converting people into human robots, turning them into obedient mindless drones
Lord Zegnu- evil alien overboard who uses possession and mind control technology to infiltrate and overthrow entire civilizations. He selects a local human to be his next host to possess, but dies of a natural cause in the process. Feared and had access to incredible technology allowing him to possess or control others (turning them into mindless robotic drones while controlled). Very secretive, which backfired after his death, allowing Mike to impersonate him.
Va’lor- first mate, just came into possession of a human body, but can transfer into a different body if required. Her current host is Audrey, a young brunette woman with a pixie cut, stacked breasts and a large bouncy booty and a few piercings. Obviously a looker and possessed due to attractiveness and knowledge (a doctorate candidate in biology).
SETTING & WORLD
Modern day, Mike is abducted in a green light from his home and beamed aboard the ship, where our story begins.
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Two escape convict got a key that can change their life
Liang and Daniel, 2 escape convict from an accident, while running they bump into someone and Liang accident use the key on his neck to transform that person into a door and when he walking through that door, he became that person
CHARACTERS
Jia Liang, He was an orphan, but while at the orphanage, he found a strange key and treated it like a necklace, wearing it until he grew up. He is smart and good with computer, he is the hacker of the group.
Daniel Handison, He is a very cunning and cautious man, Daniel is the group's strategist and he He usually scouts the location and target before acting, but he often runs ahead when everything gone bad.
Zack Miland, A thug, intimidating, and fond of fighting. A man of only muscle and no brains, he was both the bodyguard and the group's fighter. He also a loyal and trustworthy to the people he identified them as family. Current status - still in prison.
Wendy Amigo, the only woman in the team, she maybe not a beautiful woman but she good with makeup and she have a curvy body. She usually using her body to gather Intel for the team. Current status - still in prison.
Tim Amigo, Wendy's big brother and the leader of the team. Tim is the one who gather the whole team together and taking care of them when they young. Now his team work in the black market as assassins, working for anyone who pays them a large sum of money. Current status - still in prison.
Jason Milan, an mysterious man, no one except for Tim know his real face. He is the sniper and always work far from the team, only fire when the time is right and disappeared immediately. Current status - in hiding.
SETTING & WORLD
In a peaceful and beautiful village not far away, a truck carrying fish oil was parked on the roadside, several containers of oil spilled, spreading all over the road. A prisoner transport vehicle passing by veered off course, causing an accident.
Liang and Daniel, 2 escape convict from an accident, while running they bump into someone and Liang accident use the key on his neck to transform that person into a door and when he walking through that door, he became that person
CHARACTERS
Jia Liang, He was an orphan, but while at the orphanage, he found a strange key and treated it like a necklace, wearing it until he grew up. He is smart and good with computer, he is the hacker of the group.
Daniel Handison, He is a very cunning and cautious man, Daniel is the group's strategist and he He usually scouts the location and target before acting, but he often runs ahead when everything gone bad.
Zack Miland, A thug, intimidating, and fond of fighting. A man of only muscle and no brains, he was both the bodyguard and the group's fighter. He also a loyal and trustworthy to the people he identified them as family. Current status - still in prison.
Wendy Amigo, the only woman in the team, she maybe not a beautiful woman but she good with makeup and she have a curvy body. She usually using her body to gather Intel for the team. Current status - still in prison.
Tim Amigo, Wendy's big brother and the leader of the team. Tim is the one who gather the whole team together and taking care of them when they young. Now his team work in the black market as assassins, working for anyone who pays them a large sum of money. Current status - still in prison.
Jason Milan, an mysterious man, no one except for Tim know his real face. He is the sniper and always work far from the team, only fire when the time is right and disappeared immediately. Current status - in hiding.
SETTING & WORLD
In a peaceful and beautiful village not far away, a truck carrying fish oil was parked on the roadside, several containers of oil spilled, spreading all over the road. A prisoner transport vehicle passing by veered off course, causing an accident.
506
2
2
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A reckless young woman lets an upload share her senses for fun—then her body—then her life—until she realizes too late that she's given away everything she never knew she had.
WARNING: This is a very dark, horror story.
In a near-future where neural implants allow consciousness-sharing and mind uploading is commonplace but legally fraught, Paula discovers sense-sharing forums where uploads can temporarily experience physical sensation through willing hosts. What begins as a thrill-seeking adventure becomes an escalating power exchange that ends with Paula trapped in VR, watching a stranger live her life from the inside.
My implant itched.
It didn't actually itch—Dr. Marchetti had explained the phantom sensations when I got it installed, something about the brain mapping unfamiliar hardware onto familiar feelings—but I scratched the back of my neck anyway.
"You're doing it again," said Kira, not looking up from her tablet.
"Because it itches."
"It doesn't itch. You're nervous."
"I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous?"
"You're about to let a stranger ride your body like a rented car."
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it without looking—Kira's reflexes were augmented, which she claimed was for her security job but which I suspected was mostly for winning arguments. "It's not like that. He feels what I feel. That's it. People do it all the time."
"Weird people."
"Fun people. His name's Rex, since you're dying to know."
"That's not a name, that's a furry handle."
"It's what he goes by. He's an upload. They pick new names."
Kira's face did something complicated. We'd both grown up in the same neighborhood, and we both knew people who'd uploaded. The money was good, especially if you were young and healthy—the corps paid premium for clean neural maps—and once you were digital, you didn't need to eat, didn't need rent, didn't need anything. That was the pitch, anyway. The reality was that uploads lived in cut-rate server space and worked shit jobs for corps that owned their runtime. But they got paid upfront, and for a lot of people that was enough.
"I still don't get why you want to do this," Kira said.
"Because it's fucking interesting? Because I have this implant and it can do things and I want to know what they feel like?"
"You could also just not."
"I could also die never having done anything worth talking about. Pass."
Kira shook her head, but she was smiling. She knew me. I'd gotten the implant in the first place because my friends were getting them, and then kept it because of what it could do. Record experiences. Share them. Connect to systems that would've seemed like magic twenty years ago. And now I'd found this forum, and this new thing it could do, and of course I was going to try it.
I'd found the sense-sharing forum three months ago, late one night, clicking through link after link of weird little corners of the net. The idea was simple: uploads missed having bodies, and some people with implants were willing to let them feel things again. You linked up, and for a while, the upload experienced everything you experienced. Touch, taste, temperature. Heartbeat. Breathing. The whole mess of being physical.
The forum had rules and ratings and safety protocols. Rex had a good reputation—articulate, respectful, no complaints. We'd been chatting for weeks. He was funny and a little sad and he never tried to push me into anything, which made me want to push myself.
Tonight was our first real session.
"What are you going to do while he's in there?" Kira asked.
"Get ready for Marco's party. Do my makeup, pick an outfit. Normal stuff."
"So he's going to watch you get dressed."
"He's going to feel me get dressed. That's the whole point."
"And you don't think that's—"
"Hot? Yeah, I do, actually."
Kira laughed, finally, and threw the pillow back at me. "You're a freak."
"You love it."
"I tolerate it. Text me when you get to Marco's so I know you didn't get your brain hijacked by some pervert in a server farm."
"He's not a pervert. He's a person who happens to not have a body anymore. I'm doing a nice thing."
"Uh huh."
"A nice, interesting, slightly perverted thing. Get out of my apartment, I have to go let a stranger feel my tits."
She left laughing, and I locked the door behind her, and then I was alone with my implant and the blinking notification that said Rex was online and ready when I was.
I looked at myself in the hall mirror. Twenty-three. Short—five foot three on a good day, in thick socks. Brown hair I'd been growing out, finally long enough to do something with. Face that was fine, nothing special, but I'd learned how to make it work. Body I'd stopped being embarrassed about somewhere around twenty. Small, compact, feminine in ways I'd never had to think about because it was just how I was built.
Rex was going to feel all of it. Every bit.
I smiled at my reflection, and went to start the link.
---
The linking process was simple. I'd done the tutorial three times just to be sure, but it turned out there wasn't much to it. Open the app, confirm the session, accept the connection.
A little notification: Rex has joined.
And then—
It's hard to describe what it feels like when someone else arrives in your body. There's no physical sensation, no pressure or temperature change. But suddenly I was aware of him, a presence at the edge of my thoughts, attentive and quiet.
Hey, I thought at him.
Hey yourself. His mental voice was warm, a little rough. Thanks for doing this.
Thank me after. You might hate it.
I'm not going to hate it.
I was still standing in front of the hall mirror. I watched my reflection and felt him watching too, felt his attention on my face like a second gaze layered over my own.
So this is you, he said.
This is me.
You're pretty.
I know.
He laughed—not out loud, just a ripple of amusement through the link. Modest, too.
Modest is boring. Come on, I have to get ready.
I walked to the bathroom, suddenly conscious of every step in a way I usually wasn't. The pad of my feet on the hardwood. The slight sway of my hips. The way my thighs brushed together. I didn't usually think about how I walked, but now I was performing it, making it something worth feeling.
Jesus, Rex said. That's—I forgot what floors feel like.
Floors?
Solid. Real. In VR everything's a little soft. A little fake. But this— I felt him paying attention to the sensation of my foot pressing down, the texture of the wood grain. This is real.
Wait until you feel the cold tile.
I stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The tile was cold, sharp and bright against my soles, and Rex made a sound in my head that was almost a gasp.
Told you.
Do it again.
It doesn't work like that. You can't re-feel something for the first time. I walked further in, letting him experience the contrast—warm wood, cold tile, the little rug in front of the sink. But there's plenty more where that came from.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Harsh lighting, no makeup yet, hair a mess. Most people would've started with a more flattering view. I didn't care.
This is the raw material, I told him. Watch what I do with it.
I'm watching.
I started with my hair. Ran my fingers through it, working out the tangles, and I felt Rex feeling the tug at my scalp, the little prickles of sensation. I took my time. Let him experience the weight of my hair, the way it slid through my fingers.
You have no idea, he said, how much I missed hair.
You don't have hair in VR?
I have the appearance of hair. I can see it, style it, whatever. But there's no sensation. It doesn't pull. It doesn't have weight. A pause. This is going to sound stupid, but I used to dream about brushing my hair. Real dreams, not VR-generated ones. I'd wake up and my scalp would tingle like I'd actually done it, and then I'd remember I don't have a scalp anymore.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I just kept brushing, slow and deliberate, giving him the sensation he'd dreamed about.
After a while I set down the brush and picked up my makeup bag. Foundation first. I dabbed it on, blended it out, watching my reflection become smoother, more even.
I've never seen this from the inside, Rex said. The process.
Most guys haven't.
I'm not most guys.
I glanced at my reflection—at our reflection. No, I guess you're not.
Concealer next, under my eyes and at the corners of my nose. Then powder. I worked efficiently but tried to stay present for him. To notice the soft brush against my cheek, the faint chemical smell of the products.
This part I could do without, Rex said. The smell.
You get used to it.
I don't want to get used to it. I want to experience it.
I paused, brush hovering near my face. There's a difference?
Getting used to something means you stop noticing it. Experiencing something means you notice everything, even the parts that aren't pleasant. His attention shifted, and I felt him focusing on my eyes in the mirror. I've had years to think about what I miss. And it's not just the good stuff. It's the cold tile and the chemical smell and the whole texture of being real.
I went back to my makeup. Eyes now—primer, shadow, liner. This part took focus, and I felt Rex go quiet, just watching. Feeling the tiny brush strokes on my eyelids. The slight tug of the liner pencil.
When I was done with both eyes, I leaned back to check my work.
Well? I asked.
You're better at this than I would be.
Practice. I picked up the mascara, leaned in close to the mirror. Hold still. This part's tricky.
I'm literally incapable of moving.
Funny.
I did my lashes slowly, one eye at a time. The mascara wand was an old friend, but I'd never noticed before how strange the sensation was—the comb of bristles through lashes, the faint resistance, the slight tackiness as the product went on. I noticed now. Rex was noticing, and his attention made me notice too.
There, I said, capping the mascara. Eyes done.
You look different. Still you, but more.
That's the point. I turned my head side to side, checking the symmetry. Lips next, and then I have to figure out what to wear.
I did my lips—liner, then color, then gloss. Rex was fascinated by the texture of it, the slide of the gloss, the way my lips stuck together slightly when I pressed them.
Your mouth tastes like strawberries, he said.
It's the gloss. Don't get too attached.
You said getting used to things is bad.
For you. I have to live with this mouth full-time.
I blotted with a tissue and gave myself one last look. The face in the mirror was still mine, but it was the performance version—the one I showed to the world when I wanted the world to look back.
Okay, I said. Wardrobe time.
I went to my bedroom. Rex's presence had settled into something almost comfortable, a passenger who wasn't quite invisible but wasn't intrusive either. I could forget he was there if I wanted to. I didn't want to.
My closet wasn't huge, but I had options. I stood in front of it, still in the oversized t-shirt I'd been wearing around the apartment, and considered.
What's the occasion? Rex asked.
Party. Friend of a friend. I don't know half the people who'll be there, which means I have to look good enough that they'll want to know me.
Armor.
Exactly.
I pulled out a few options and laid them on the bed. A black dress, tight but not slutty. A red top I'd been meaning to wear more. Jeans that made my ass look good. A skirt I'd impulse-bought and never worn.
What do you think? I asked, and then laughed at myself. Sorry. You can't actually see them separately, can you?
I see what you see. So if you look at them...
I looked. Picked up the black dress, held it against myself in front of the mirror.
That's good, Rex said. Classic.
Classic is another word for boring. I tossed it aside, picked up the red top. This is more fun.
What makes it fun?
It's bright. It's tight. It says "look at me" without having to say anything. I held it up, turned slightly. Plus it makes my tits look amazing.
Does it?
I felt the shift in his attention, the way the word had landed. We'd been dancing around the obvious ever since he'd linked in. I was getting ready to go out, which meant I was about to get undressed, and he was feeling every inch of my body from the inside. Neither of us had acknowledged it directly.
Let's find out, I said, and pulled off my t-shirt.
He inhaled—not a real sound, just a mental gasp, a flare of sudden attention. I was in my bra now, a plain black thing that wasn't special, but it didn't need to be special. What was underneath was special enough.
Fuck, Rex said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Let him look. The swell of my breasts over the cups, the softness of my stomach, the flare of my hips above my underwear. This was my body. I knew it was good. I knew he thought so too.
You okay in there?
Yeah. I'm—yeah.
I reached back and unhooked my bra.
I did it slowly, not because I needed to, but because I wanted him to feel it. The release of pressure as the band loosened. The straps sliding down my arms. The cool air hitting skin that had been covered.
I let the bra drop.
Paula—
What?
I turned to face the mirror straight on. My breasts weren't huge, but they were nice—full enough to have weight, small enough to not need much support. My nipples were already hardening in the cool air. Or from something else, maybe.
You're doing this on purpose, Rex said.
Doing what?
You know what.
I cupped my breasts, one in each hand. Lifted them slightly, like I was checking the fit of an invisible bra. I felt the weight in my palms, the soft skin, the way my nipples pressed against my fingers.
And I felt Rex feeling it too. His attention was so focused it was almost a physical pressure, a second pair of hands ghosting over mine.
This? I said. I'm just getting dressed.
You're teasing me.
Maybe. I squeezed gently, ran my thumbs across my nipples, felt the little shock of sensation. Is it working?
You know it is.
I smiled at myself in the mirror. At him. Good.
I held the pose for another moment—hands on my breasts, his attention burning through me—and then let my hands trail down my stomach, over my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
Rex's anticipation spiked. I could feel it like a held breath, like the moment before a drop on a roller coaster.
I pulled my hands away.
Wait—
Gotta get dressed. Party to go to. I picked up the red top and pulled it on in one smooth motion, covering myself before he could object. See? Amazing tits.
I looked at myself again. The top was low-cut enough to show cleavage, tight enough to emphasize the shape. Rex was still reeling, I could tell. His presence felt almost dizzy.
You're cruel, he said.
I'm fun. There's a difference.
Is there?
Cruel would be if I didn't let you feel anything. This way you get to feel everything. I adjusted the neckline, making sure the view was exactly right. You just don't get to decide what you feel.
That's—
That's the deal. You knew that coming in.
He was quiet for a moment. I let him be quiet. Picked up the jeans, considered them, set them aside in favor of the impulse-buy skirt. It was short and black and I'd never had the nerve to wear it.
Tonight felt like a good night for nerve.
I turned away from the mirror—giving him only the sensation, not the view—and slid my underwear down my legs. Plain cotton, not worth keeping. I let Rex experience that: the cool air between my thighs, the vulnerability of being completely bare from the waist down.
I didn't tease this time. Just let him feel it for a moment, the simple reality of nakedness, before I pulled on a better pair of underwear—black lace that matched nothing but looked good—and stepped into the skirt.
How's that? I asked, turning back to the mirror.
You look incredible.
I know.
The skirt was short—mid-thigh, maybe a little higher. When I moved, it moved with me, hinting at what was underneath without revealing anything. Perfect.
Shoes, I said. This is the important part.
I went to my closet and dug out the heels. Black, strappy, four inches. I almost never wore them because they were murder on my feet, but they made my legs look endless and they forced me to walk like I meant every step.
I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on, one foot at a time.
Oh, Rex said, and something shifted in him. Something deeper than before, more personal.
What?
Nothing. Just—the heels.
I stood up, wobbling for a second before I found my balance. The shift in posture was immediate: chest out, ass back, weight on the balls of my feet. I took a few steps, getting used to them.
You like this, I said. It wasn't a question.
I—yeah.
More than the other stuff?
He hesitated. I felt him trying to find the words.
It's different, he said finally. The other stuff is—I mean, obviously, your body is incredible—but this is something else. The way you're standing now. The way you have to move. It's so...
Feminine?
Yeah.
I walked to the mirror and back, letting him experience it. The careful steps, the sway of my hips that the heels forced, the way my calves tensed with each stride. My feet were already starting to ache, but I didn't care.
I used to dream about this too, he said quietly. Before I uploaded. I'd see women in heels and I'd think about what it felt like. Not in a creepy way, just—wondering. What's it like to walk like that? To have your body move like that?
And now you know.
Now I know.
I stopped in front of the mirror. My reflection looked good—really good. The kind of good that would turn heads at the party, that would make people want to talk to me.
Thank you, Rex said. For this.
We're not done yet. I grabbed my clutch, checked that I had my keys and phone. You're coming with me.
To the party?
To the party. If you're going to feel what it's like to be a woman, you might as well feel what it's like to be a woman who gets looked at.
I headed for the door, heels clicking on the hardwood. Rex was quiet, but I could feel his anticipation, his gratitude, his hunger for more.
One rule, I said as I reached for the handle.
What?
You feel everything I feel. But I decide what I feel. If I want to dance, you dance. If I want to flirt, you flirt. And if I want to go home with someone—
Paula—
Relax. I'm not going to. Probably. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. But the point is, it's my choice. You're along for the ride. That's it.
I understand.
Good.
I walked to the elevator, hips swaying, heels clicking, feeling his presence like a warm shadow inside my skin.
This was going to be fun.
---
The party was everything I'd expected: loud music, dim lighting, too many people in too little space. Marco's apartment was nice but not nice enough for this crowd, and within ten minutes of arriving I had a drink in my hand and a stranger's elbow in my ribs.
Is it always like this? Rex asked.
Pretty much.
How do you stand it?
I don't stand it. I move through it. I squeezed between two guys arguing about something sports-related and found a slightly less crowded corner. See? Adaptation.
I sipped my drink—vodka soda, nothing fancy—and let him feel the burn of alcohol, the cool wash of carbonation. His attention sharpened at the taste.
That's different, he said.
Bad different?
No, just—alcohol doesn't work in VR. I mean, you can simulate the effects, but the taste is just data. This is chemistry.
This is Smirnoff, which is barely chemistry. I took another sip anyway, for his benefit. Wait until you feel drunk.
Are you planning to get drunk?
I'm planning to have a good time. Sometimes those overlap.
I scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. Kira wasn't here yet; she'd said she might stop by later, but I wasn't counting on it. Marco was holding court somewhere, probably wherever the best speakers were. I spotted a few people I half-recognized—friends of friends, faces from other parties.
A song came on that I liked—something with a heavy bass line and a hook that made my hips want to move—and I pushed off from the wall.
What are you doing?
Dancing.
Here?
Where else? I found a spot on the makeshift dance floor and started to move. Feel this.
Dancing in heels is its own skill. You can't move the way you would in flats; everything's different, from your center of gravity to your ankle flexibility. But if you know what you're doing, you can use the constraints. Let the heels force your hips into a certain sway. Let the height change how you hold yourself.
I knew what I was doing.
Oh, Rex said, and then went quiet.
I danced through one song, then another. Let him feel the movement of my body, the bass vibrating through my chest, the heat building under my skin. People were watching—I could feel their eyes on me, and I let myself enjoy it.
They're looking at you, Rex said.
I know.
Does that—do you like that?
What do you think?
I made eye contact with a guy near the speakers—tall, dark hair, decent face. Held it for a beat, then looked away. Classic move. When I glanced back, he was still watching.
You're good at this, Rex said. At being looked at. At making people want you.
It's not magic. It's just confidence. I spun, letting my skirt flare. Anyone can do it. You just have to believe you're worth looking at.
Easy for you to say.
I heard something in his voice—his mental voice—that made me slow down. Step off the dance floor, find a quieter corner.
What does that mean?
It means you've always had this. The body, the face, the way you move. You don't know what it's like to not have it.
Rex—
I'm not complaining. I'm just— He stopped, and I felt something complicated in him. Envy. Longing. A sadness that went deeper than I'd realized. It's a lot. Being here, feeling this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down.
You didn't. I leaned against the wall, giving us both a break from the dancing. But maybe we should talk about it.
About what?
About what you actually want out of this.
Silence. I could feel him weighing how much to say.
I want to feel real, he said finally. That's all. Just for a little while. I want to feel like I'm actually alive, instead of just running.
Running?
That's what being an upload is. You're a program. You run on a server somewhere, and the server belongs to a corporation, and they decide everything—how much processing power you get, what kind of sensory resolution you're allowed, whether you even get to keep existing. You're not a person. You're a process.
That sounds—
It sounds awful because it is awful. His voice was harder now, edged with something raw. But I made my choice. I took the money, I signed the contract, I uploaded. And now this is my existence, and I don't get to complain.
You can complain to me.
Can I?
Obviously. I pushed off the wall, headed for the drinks table. Come on. Let's get another drink and you can tell me everything.
He talked. Not about the party, not about the dancing or the heels or any of the physical sensations—about his life. About the upload process: having his brain scanned and copied, waking up in a virtual space, finding out his original body had already been cremated because the corps didn't keep the meat once they had the data. About the server farms, the endless identical days, the work that was basically being a smarter chatbot for some corporation's customer service line. About the other uploads he knew—the ones who'd given up and requested deletion, the ones who'd found ways to cope, the ones who were still hoping for something better.
And he told me about the thing he'd never told anyone. The reason he'd uploaded in the first place.
I always knew something was wrong, he said. With my body. Not wrong like sick, just wrong like it didn't fit. I'd look in the mirror and see this guy looking back, and I'd think, that's not me. That's not who I'm supposed to be.
You wanted to be a woman.
I didn't have the words for it then. But yeah. I think I always did.
And uploading was supposed to fix that?
Uploading was supposed to let me be whoever I wanted. That's what they told us in recruitment. "In VR, you can be anyone." And they weren't lying. I can have any avatar I want. I can look like a woman, sound like a woman, move like a woman.
But it's not the same.
It's not even close. His voice cracked. Because it's still just data. When I touch something in VR, I'm not really touching it. When I look in the mirror and see a woman, I'm not really seeing myself. I'm seeing a picture. A very convincing, very detailed picture that I can manipulate however I want. But it's not real.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.
That's why this matters so much, he said. Feeling your body. Being inside something real. When you put on those heels and looked in the mirror, I saw a woman looking back. An actual woman, in an actual body. And I felt what it was like to be her.
To be me.
To be you. Yeah. A pause. It's the closest I've ever come to being who I'm supposed to be.
I finished my drink. Set the empty glass on a nearby table.
Rex.
Yeah?
Same time next week.
His surprise was warm and sudden. Really?
Really. And we can do it again after that. As many times as you want.
He didn't say anything, but I felt something from him—gratitude, relief, something that might have been tears if uploads could cry.
Now, I said, I'm going to dance some more. Ready?
Ready.
I went back to the dance floor, and we stayed until last call, and when I finally walked home—heels in my hand, bare feet on cold pavement—I felt more alive than I had in months.
That was incredible, Rex said as I let myself into my apartment. Thank you.
Stop thanking me. It's weird.
I can't help it. You gave me something tonight that I didn't know I needed.
I kicked off the heels—my feet screaming with relief—and headed for the bathroom. Started taking off my makeup, watching the performance version of myself dissolve back into the everyday one.
Rex?
Yeah?
Same time next week. I meant it.
I know. A pause. Paula?
Yeah?
I think I might love you a little bit.
I laughed—out loud, not just in my head. You don't love me. You love having a body. There's a difference.
Maybe. But right now it feels like the same thing.
I finished taking off my makeup. Got undressed—letting him feel that too, the relief of getting out of party clothes and into soft pajamas. Brushed my teeth. Fell into bed.
I'm going to disconnect now, I said. Unless you want to feel me sleep.
I wouldn't mind.
Weirdo.
Guilty.
I closed my eyes. Felt myself drifting. And just before I fell asleep, I felt something else: Rex's presence, quiet and watchful, feeling my body relax into unconsciousness.
I should have found it creepy. Instead, I found it comforting.
I slept better than I had in years.
WARNING: This is a very dark, horror story.
In a near-future where neural implants allow consciousness-sharing and mind uploading is commonplace but legally fraught, Paula discovers sense-sharing forums where uploads can temporarily experience physical sensation through willing hosts. What begins as a thrill-seeking adventure becomes an escalating power exchange that ends with Paula trapped in VR, watching a stranger live her life from the inside.
My implant itched.
It didn't actually itch—Dr. Marchetti had explained the phantom sensations when I got it installed, something about the brain mapping unfamiliar hardware onto familiar feelings—but I scratched the back of my neck anyway.
"You're doing it again," said Kira, not looking up from her tablet.
"Because it itches."
"It doesn't itch. You're nervous."
"I'm not nervous. Why would I be nervous?"
"You're about to let a stranger ride your body like a rented car."
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it without looking—Kira's reflexes were augmented, which she claimed was for her security job but which I suspected was mostly for winning arguments. "It's not like that. He feels what I feel. That's it. People do it all the time."
"Weird people."
"Fun people. His name's Rex, since you're dying to know."
"That's not a name, that's a furry handle."
"It's what he goes by. He's an upload. They pick new names."
Kira's face did something complicated. We'd both grown up in the same neighborhood, and we both knew people who'd uploaded. The money was good, especially if you were young and healthy—the corps paid premium for clean neural maps—and once you were digital, you didn't need to eat, didn't need rent, didn't need anything. That was the pitch, anyway. The reality was that uploads lived in cut-rate server space and worked shit jobs for corps that owned their runtime. But they got paid upfront, and for a lot of people that was enough.
"I still don't get why you want to do this," Kira said.
"Because it's fucking interesting? Because I have this implant and it can do things and I want to know what they feel like?"
"You could also just not."
"I could also die never having done anything worth talking about. Pass."
Kira shook her head, but she was smiling. She knew me. I'd gotten the implant in the first place because my friends were getting them, and then kept it because of what it could do. Record experiences. Share them. Connect to systems that would've seemed like magic twenty years ago. And now I'd found this forum, and this new thing it could do, and of course I was going to try it.
I'd found the sense-sharing forum three months ago, late one night, clicking through link after link of weird little corners of the net. The idea was simple: uploads missed having bodies, and some people with implants were willing to let them feel things again. You linked up, and for a while, the upload experienced everything you experienced. Touch, taste, temperature. Heartbeat. Breathing. The whole mess of being physical.
The forum had rules and ratings and safety protocols. Rex had a good reputation—articulate, respectful, no complaints. We'd been chatting for weeks. He was funny and a little sad and he never tried to push me into anything, which made me want to push myself.
Tonight was our first real session.
"What are you going to do while he's in there?" Kira asked.
"Get ready for Marco's party. Do my makeup, pick an outfit. Normal stuff."
"So he's going to watch you get dressed."
"He's going to feel me get dressed. That's the whole point."
"And you don't think that's—"
"Hot? Yeah, I do, actually."
Kira laughed, finally, and threw the pillow back at me. "You're a freak."
"You love it."
"I tolerate it. Text me when you get to Marco's so I know you didn't get your brain hijacked by some pervert in a server farm."
"He's not a pervert. He's a person who happens to not have a body anymore. I'm doing a nice thing."
"Uh huh."
"A nice, interesting, slightly perverted thing. Get out of my apartment, I have to go let a stranger feel my tits."
She left laughing, and I locked the door behind her, and then I was alone with my implant and the blinking notification that said Rex was online and ready when I was.
I looked at myself in the hall mirror. Twenty-three. Short—five foot three on a good day, in thick socks. Brown hair I'd been growing out, finally long enough to do something with. Face that was fine, nothing special, but I'd learned how to make it work. Body I'd stopped being embarrassed about somewhere around twenty. Small, compact, feminine in ways I'd never had to think about because it was just how I was built.
Rex was going to feel all of it. Every bit.
I smiled at my reflection, and went to start the link.
---
The linking process was simple. I'd done the tutorial three times just to be sure, but it turned out there wasn't much to it. Open the app, confirm the session, accept the connection.
A little notification: Rex has joined.
And then—
It's hard to describe what it feels like when someone else arrives in your body. There's no physical sensation, no pressure or temperature change. But suddenly I was aware of him, a presence at the edge of my thoughts, attentive and quiet.
Hey, I thought at him.
Hey yourself. His mental voice was warm, a little rough. Thanks for doing this.
Thank me after. You might hate it.
I'm not going to hate it.
I was still standing in front of the hall mirror. I watched my reflection and felt him watching too, felt his attention on my face like a second gaze layered over my own.
So this is you, he said.
This is me.
You're pretty.
I know.
He laughed—not out loud, just a ripple of amusement through the link. Modest, too.
Modest is boring. Come on, I have to get ready.
I walked to the bathroom, suddenly conscious of every step in a way I usually wasn't. The pad of my feet on the hardwood. The slight sway of my hips. The way my thighs brushed together. I didn't usually think about how I walked, but now I was performing it, making it something worth feeling.
Jesus, Rex said. That's—I forgot what floors feel like.
Floors?
Solid. Real. In VR everything's a little soft. A little fake. But this— I felt him paying attention to the sensation of my foot pressing down, the texture of the wood grain. This is real.
Wait until you feel the cold tile.
I stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the lights. The tile was cold, sharp and bright against my soles, and Rex made a sound in my head that was almost a gasp.
Told you.
Do it again.
It doesn't work like that. You can't re-feel something for the first time. I walked further in, letting him experience the contrast—warm wood, cold tile, the little rug in front of the sink. But there's plenty more where that came from.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Harsh lighting, no makeup yet, hair a mess. Most people would've started with a more flattering view. I didn't care.
This is the raw material, I told him. Watch what I do with it.
I'm watching.
I started with my hair. Ran my fingers through it, working out the tangles, and I felt Rex feeling the tug at my scalp, the little prickles of sensation. I took my time. Let him experience the weight of my hair, the way it slid through my fingers.
You have no idea, he said, how much I missed hair.
You don't have hair in VR?
I have the appearance of hair. I can see it, style it, whatever. But there's no sensation. It doesn't pull. It doesn't have weight. A pause. This is going to sound stupid, but I used to dream about brushing my hair. Real dreams, not VR-generated ones. I'd wake up and my scalp would tingle like I'd actually done it, and then I'd remember I don't have a scalp anymore.
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. I just kept brushing, slow and deliberate, giving him the sensation he'd dreamed about.
After a while I set down the brush and picked up my makeup bag. Foundation first. I dabbed it on, blended it out, watching my reflection become smoother, more even.
I've never seen this from the inside, Rex said. The process.
Most guys haven't.
I'm not most guys.
I glanced at my reflection—at our reflection. No, I guess you're not.
Concealer next, under my eyes and at the corners of my nose. Then powder. I worked efficiently but tried to stay present for him. To notice the soft brush against my cheek, the faint chemical smell of the products.
This part I could do without, Rex said. The smell.
You get used to it.
I don't want to get used to it. I want to experience it.
I paused, brush hovering near my face. There's a difference?
Getting used to something means you stop noticing it. Experiencing something means you notice everything, even the parts that aren't pleasant. His attention shifted, and I felt him focusing on my eyes in the mirror. I've had years to think about what I miss. And it's not just the good stuff. It's the cold tile and the chemical smell and the whole texture of being real.
I went back to my makeup. Eyes now—primer, shadow, liner. This part took focus, and I felt Rex go quiet, just watching. Feeling the tiny brush strokes on my eyelids. The slight tug of the liner pencil.
When I was done with both eyes, I leaned back to check my work.
Well? I asked.
You're better at this than I would be.
Practice. I picked up the mascara, leaned in close to the mirror. Hold still. This part's tricky.
I'm literally incapable of moving.
Funny.
I did my lashes slowly, one eye at a time. The mascara wand was an old friend, but I'd never noticed before how strange the sensation was—the comb of bristles through lashes, the faint resistance, the slight tackiness as the product went on. I noticed now. Rex was noticing, and his attention made me notice too.
There, I said, capping the mascara. Eyes done.
You look different. Still you, but more.
That's the point. I turned my head side to side, checking the symmetry. Lips next, and then I have to figure out what to wear.
I did my lips—liner, then color, then gloss. Rex was fascinated by the texture of it, the slide of the gloss, the way my lips stuck together slightly when I pressed them.
Your mouth tastes like strawberries, he said.
It's the gloss. Don't get too attached.
You said getting used to things is bad.
For you. I have to live with this mouth full-time.
I blotted with a tissue and gave myself one last look. The face in the mirror was still mine, but it was the performance version—the one I showed to the world when I wanted the world to look back.
Okay, I said. Wardrobe time.
I went to my bedroom. Rex's presence had settled into something almost comfortable, a passenger who wasn't quite invisible but wasn't intrusive either. I could forget he was there if I wanted to. I didn't want to.
My closet wasn't huge, but I had options. I stood in front of it, still in the oversized t-shirt I'd been wearing around the apartment, and considered.
What's the occasion? Rex asked.
Party. Friend of a friend. I don't know half the people who'll be there, which means I have to look good enough that they'll want to know me.
Armor.
Exactly.
I pulled out a few options and laid them on the bed. A black dress, tight but not slutty. A red top I'd been meaning to wear more. Jeans that made my ass look good. A skirt I'd impulse-bought and never worn.
What do you think? I asked, and then laughed at myself. Sorry. You can't actually see them separately, can you?
I see what you see. So if you look at them...
I looked. Picked up the black dress, held it against myself in front of the mirror.
That's good, Rex said. Classic.
Classic is another word for boring. I tossed it aside, picked up the red top. This is more fun.
What makes it fun?
It's bright. It's tight. It says "look at me" without having to say anything. I held it up, turned slightly. Plus it makes my tits look amazing.
Does it?
I felt the shift in his attention, the way the word had landed. We'd been dancing around the obvious ever since he'd linked in. I was getting ready to go out, which meant I was about to get undressed, and he was feeling every inch of my body from the inside. Neither of us had acknowledged it directly.
Let's find out, I said, and pulled off my t-shirt.
He inhaled—not a real sound, just a mental gasp, a flare of sudden attention. I was in my bra now, a plain black thing that wasn't special, but it didn't need to be special. What was underneath was special enough.
Fuck, Rex said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Let him look. The swell of my breasts over the cups, the softness of my stomach, the flare of my hips above my underwear. This was my body. I knew it was good. I knew he thought so too.
You okay in there?
Yeah. I'm—yeah.
I reached back and unhooked my bra.
I did it slowly, not because I needed to, but because I wanted him to feel it. The release of pressure as the band loosened. The straps sliding down my arms. The cool air hitting skin that had been covered.
I let the bra drop.
Paula—
What?
I turned to face the mirror straight on. My breasts weren't huge, but they were nice—full enough to have weight, small enough to not need much support. My nipples were already hardening in the cool air. Or from something else, maybe.
You're doing this on purpose, Rex said.
Doing what?
You know what.
I cupped my breasts, one in each hand. Lifted them slightly, like I was checking the fit of an invisible bra. I felt the weight in my palms, the soft skin, the way my nipples pressed against my fingers.
And I felt Rex feeling it too. His attention was so focused it was almost a physical pressure, a second pair of hands ghosting over mine.
This? I said. I'm just getting dressed.
You're teasing me.
Maybe. I squeezed gently, ran my thumbs across my nipples, felt the little shock of sensation. Is it working?
You know it is.
I smiled at myself in the mirror. At him. Good.
I held the pose for another moment—hands on my breasts, his attention burning through me—and then let my hands trail down my stomach, over my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear.
Rex's anticipation spiked. I could feel it like a held breath, like the moment before a drop on a roller coaster.
I pulled my hands away.
Wait—
Gotta get dressed. Party to go to. I picked up the red top and pulled it on in one smooth motion, covering myself before he could object. See? Amazing tits.
I looked at myself again. The top was low-cut enough to show cleavage, tight enough to emphasize the shape. Rex was still reeling, I could tell. His presence felt almost dizzy.
You're cruel, he said.
I'm fun. There's a difference.
Is there?
Cruel would be if I didn't let you feel anything. This way you get to feel everything. I adjusted the neckline, making sure the view was exactly right. You just don't get to decide what you feel.
That's—
That's the deal. You knew that coming in.
He was quiet for a moment. I let him be quiet. Picked up the jeans, considered them, set them aside in favor of the impulse-buy skirt. It was short and black and I'd never had the nerve to wear it.
Tonight felt like a good night for nerve.
I turned away from the mirror—giving him only the sensation, not the view—and slid my underwear down my legs. Plain cotton, not worth keeping. I let Rex experience that: the cool air between my thighs, the vulnerability of being completely bare from the waist down.
I didn't tease this time. Just let him feel it for a moment, the simple reality of nakedness, before I pulled on a better pair of underwear—black lace that matched nothing but looked good—and stepped into the skirt.
How's that? I asked, turning back to the mirror.
You look incredible.
I know.
The skirt was short—mid-thigh, maybe a little higher. When I moved, it moved with me, hinting at what was underneath without revealing anything. Perfect.
Shoes, I said. This is the important part.
I went to my closet and dug out the heels. Black, strappy, four inches. I almost never wore them because they were murder on my feet, but they made my legs look endless and they forced me to walk like I meant every step.
I sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on, one foot at a time.
Oh, Rex said, and something shifted in him. Something deeper than before, more personal.
What?
Nothing. Just—the heels.
I stood up, wobbling for a second before I found my balance. The shift in posture was immediate: chest out, ass back, weight on the balls of my feet. I took a few steps, getting used to them.
You like this, I said. It wasn't a question.
I—yeah.
More than the other stuff?
He hesitated. I felt him trying to find the words.
It's different, he said finally. The other stuff is—I mean, obviously, your body is incredible—but this is something else. The way you're standing now. The way you have to move. It's so...
Feminine?
Yeah.
I walked to the mirror and back, letting him experience it. The careful steps, the sway of my hips that the heels forced, the way my calves tensed with each stride. My feet were already starting to ache, but I didn't care.
I used to dream about this too, he said quietly. Before I uploaded. I'd see women in heels and I'd think about what it felt like. Not in a creepy way, just—wondering. What's it like to walk like that? To have your body move like that?
And now you know.
Now I know.
I stopped in front of the mirror. My reflection looked good—really good. The kind of good that would turn heads at the party, that would make people want to talk to me.
Thank you, Rex said. For this.
We're not done yet. I grabbed my clutch, checked that I had my keys and phone. You're coming with me.
To the party?
To the party. If you're going to feel what it's like to be a woman, you might as well feel what it's like to be a woman who gets looked at.
I headed for the door, heels clicking on the hardwood. Rex was quiet, but I could feel his anticipation, his gratitude, his hunger for more.
One rule, I said as I reached for the handle.
What?
You feel everything I feel. But I decide what I feel. If I want to dance, you dance. If I want to flirt, you flirt. And if I want to go home with someone—
Paula—
Relax. I'm not going to. Probably. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. But the point is, it's my choice. You're along for the ride. That's it.
I understand.
Good.
I walked to the elevator, hips swaying, heels clicking, feeling his presence like a warm shadow inside my skin.
This was going to be fun.
---
The party was everything I'd expected: loud music, dim lighting, too many people in too little space. Marco's apartment was nice but not nice enough for this crowd, and within ten minutes of arriving I had a drink in my hand and a stranger's elbow in my ribs.
Is it always like this? Rex asked.
Pretty much.
How do you stand it?
I don't stand it. I move through it. I squeezed between two guys arguing about something sports-related and found a slightly less crowded corner. See? Adaptation.
I sipped my drink—vodka soda, nothing fancy—and let him feel the burn of alcohol, the cool wash of carbonation. His attention sharpened at the taste.
That's different, he said.
Bad different?
No, just—alcohol doesn't work in VR. I mean, you can simulate the effects, but the taste is just data. This is chemistry.
This is Smirnoff, which is barely chemistry. I took another sip anyway, for his benefit. Wait until you feel drunk.
Are you planning to get drunk?
I'm planning to have a good time. Sometimes those overlap.
I scanned the room, looking for familiar faces. Kira wasn't here yet; she'd said she might stop by later, but I wasn't counting on it. Marco was holding court somewhere, probably wherever the best speakers were. I spotted a few people I half-recognized—friends of friends, faces from other parties.
A song came on that I liked—something with a heavy bass line and a hook that made my hips want to move—and I pushed off from the wall.
What are you doing?
Dancing.
Here?
Where else? I found a spot on the makeshift dance floor and started to move. Feel this.
Dancing in heels is its own skill. You can't move the way you would in flats; everything's different, from your center of gravity to your ankle flexibility. But if you know what you're doing, you can use the constraints. Let the heels force your hips into a certain sway. Let the height change how you hold yourself.
I knew what I was doing.
Oh, Rex said, and then went quiet.
I danced through one song, then another. Let him feel the movement of my body, the bass vibrating through my chest, the heat building under my skin. People were watching—I could feel their eyes on me, and I let myself enjoy it.
They're looking at you, Rex said.
I know.
Does that—do you like that?
What do you think?
I made eye contact with a guy near the speakers—tall, dark hair, decent face. Held it for a beat, then looked away. Classic move. When I glanced back, he was still watching.
You're good at this, Rex said. At being looked at. At making people want you.
It's not magic. It's just confidence. I spun, letting my skirt flare. Anyone can do it. You just have to believe you're worth looking at.
Easy for you to say.
I heard something in his voice—his mental voice—that made me slow down. Step off the dance floor, find a quieter corner.
What does that mean?
It means you've always had this. The body, the face, the way you move. You don't know what it's like to not have it.
Rex—
I'm not complaining. I'm just— He stopped, and I felt something complicated in him. Envy. Longing. A sadness that went deeper than I'd realized. It's a lot. Being here, feeling this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down.
You didn't. I leaned against the wall, giving us both a break from the dancing. But maybe we should talk about it.
About what?
About what you actually want out of this.
Silence. I could feel him weighing how much to say.
I want to feel real, he said finally. That's all. Just for a little while. I want to feel like I'm actually alive, instead of just running.
Running?
That's what being an upload is. You're a program. You run on a server somewhere, and the server belongs to a corporation, and they decide everything—how much processing power you get, what kind of sensory resolution you're allowed, whether you even get to keep existing. You're not a person. You're a process.
That sounds—
It sounds awful because it is awful. His voice was harder now, edged with something raw. But I made my choice. I took the money, I signed the contract, I uploaded. And now this is my existence, and I don't get to complain.
You can complain to me.
Can I?
Obviously. I pushed off the wall, headed for the drinks table. Come on. Let's get another drink and you can tell me everything.
He talked. Not about the party, not about the dancing or the heels or any of the physical sensations—about his life. About the upload process: having his brain scanned and copied, waking up in a virtual space, finding out his original body had already been cremated because the corps didn't keep the meat once they had the data. About the server farms, the endless identical days, the work that was basically being a smarter chatbot for some corporation's customer service line. About the other uploads he knew—the ones who'd given up and requested deletion, the ones who'd found ways to cope, the ones who were still hoping for something better.
And he told me about the thing he'd never told anyone. The reason he'd uploaded in the first place.
I always knew something was wrong, he said. With my body. Not wrong like sick, just wrong like it didn't fit. I'd look in the mirror and see this guy looking back, and I'd think, that's not me. That's not who I'm supposed to be.
You wanted to be a woman.
I didn't have the words for it then. But yeah. I think I always did.
And uploading was supposed to fix that?
Uploading was supposed to let me be whoever I wanted. That's what they told us in recruitment. "In VR, you can be anyone." And they weren't lying. I can have any avatar I want. I can look like a woman, sound like a woman, move like a woman.
But it's not the same.
It's not even close. His voice cracked. Because it's still just data. When I touch something in VR, I'm not really touching it. When I look in the mirror and see a woman, I'm not really seeing myself. I'm seeing a picture. A very convincing, very detailed picture that I can manipulate however I want. But it's not real.
I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say.
That's why this matters so much, he said. Feeling your body. Being inside something real. When you put on those heels and looked in the mirror, I saw a woman looking back. An actual woman, in an actual body. And I felt what it was like to be her.
To be me.
To be you. Yeah. A pause. It's the closest I've ever come to being who I'm supposed to be.
I finished my drink. Set the empty glass on a nearby table.
Rex.
Yeah?
Same time next week.
His surprise was warm and sudden. Really?
Really. And we can do it again after that. As many times as you want.
He didn't say anything, but I felt something from him—gratitude, relief, something that might have been tears if uploads could cry.
Now, I said, I'm going to dance some more. Ready?
Ready.
I went back to the dance floor, and we stayed until last call, and when I finally walked home—heels in my hand, bare feet on cold pavement—I felt more alive than I had in months.
That was incredible, Rex said as I let myself into my apartment. Thank you.
Stop thanking me. It's weird.
I can't help it. You gave me something tonight that I didn't know I needed.
I kicked off the heels—my feet screaming with relief—and headed for the bathroom. Started taking off my makeup, watching the performance version of myself dissolve back into the everyday one.
Rex?
Yeah?
Same time next week. I meant it.
I know. A pause. Paula?
Yeah?
I think I might love you a little bit.
I laughed—out loud, not just in my head. You don't love me. You love having a body. There's a difference.
Maybe. But right now it feels like the same thing.
I finished taking off my makeup. Got undressed—letting him feel that too, the relief of getting out of party clothes and into soft pajamas. Brushed my teeth. Fell into bed.
I'm going to disconnect now, I said. Unless you want to feel me sleep.
I wouldn't mind.
Weirdo.
Guilty.
I closed my eyes. Felt myself drifting. And just before I fell asleep, I felt something else: Rex's presence, quiet and watchful, feeling my body relax into unconsciousness.
I should have found it creepy. Instead, I found it comforting.
I slept better than I had in years.
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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!
__________________________
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! ;)
_________________
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!
__________________
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.
_______________________________
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.
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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.
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