Ben and Emma are teenagers who go to the same high school and have been next door neighbors since they were kids. But after drifting apart for a few years, can a body swapping app bring them back together? What does it mean for Emma's burgeoning with the school bully, Jake?This story covers the first half of the commission, due to length. The second half will be written and published in the coming weeks seperately.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it *wa*y more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was *that* bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about *that*. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake *was* an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
Ben moved slowly through the bustling halls of Lincoln High, his face buried in the latest issue of Lunar Phantom, a new manga series he'd recently gotten into. He was an ordinary high school boy of medium build, with glasses perched precariously on his nose, hair unruly in a fashion that spoke more of negligence than style. His anime-themed backpack was more an advertisement of his passions than a call to belong.
A sudden shout jolted him from his colorful world of dragons and mythical creatures. It was a voice he knew well. A voice that made his insides shrink and twist. Jake.
Jake towered over the crowd, a behemoth in a letterman jacket, rippling muscles hinted at beneath the cloth. His presence was as chilling as a harsh winter's breeze, causing the sea of students to part as he strode towards Ben, eyes gleaming with a harsh intensity that promised trouble.
"Hey, nerd," Jake sneered, swatting the manga from Ben's hands, sending it flying across the hallway. The bright panels of Lunar Phantom lay scattered on the floor, a stark contrast against the dull linoleum. The hallway fell silent, eyes darting from Ben to Jake and back, anticipation hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
"Whoops” laughed Jake. “Looks like you dropped your comic book!” Jake smirked at him like it was the funniest thing ever.
Ben reached down to pick up the scattered pages, hands shaking, but Jake's boot descended onto the colorful paper, grinding it under his heel. The snickers of Jake's friends echo’d around them.
“Oi, Jake” a male voice said, gesturing.
Around the corner came a beautiful girl wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and Jake quickly abandoned his mockery. He straightened up, pushing Ben to the side, and strode towards Emma. Left alone in the wake of the bully's departure, Ben clenched his jaw, simmering in a mix of embarrassment and resentment.
Emma was laughing, her blonde hair bouncing as she gestured animatedly at something one of her friends said. A group had gathered around her, attracted by the radiant cheerleader who had a kind word for everyone.
"Hey, Emma," Jake called out, causing Emma to turn towards him. Her blue eyes widened in surprise before being replaced by a warm smile.
"Hey, Jake," she replied, her voice melodic. She adjusted the red and white pompoms in her hand as she greeted him. They must have just come from practice.
The sight of Jake and Emma laughing together caused a sour taste to rise in Ben's mouth. He watched as Jake threw his arm casually over Emma's shoulder, making her giggle. Every smile she flashed at Jake was a jab at Ben's pride.
"Hey, so I was thinking," Jake began, his voice slipping into a softer tone as he leaned in closer to Emma. "Hell-o-saurus is coming out on Thursday. Thought maybe we could check it out together?"
Emma looked surprised for a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Sure,," she replied, "I'd like that."
Ben clenched his fist. Of all the things… He watched as Jake gave Emma a triumphant grin and squeezed her shoulder lightly before he pushed off the lockers and ambled away, leaving a starstruck Emma behind.
Ben waited for a moment, the taste of his own defeat still bitter on his tongue. Finally, gathering his scattered manga and the remaining shreds of his pride, he approached Emma.
"What's so great about him?" Ben grumbled, giving voice to the annoyance he'd been nursing.
Emma jumped, startled. "Oh, Ben!" she said, her surprise quickly replaced by a soft smile. "I didn't see you there."
Ben scowled, his eyes following the figure of the retreating bully. "What do you even see in him?"
Emma shrugged, her smile fading slightly. "Ah, I don’t know. He's... nice, you know?" she replied, struggling to articulate her thoughts. "Confident, protective. He knows what he wants, you know? But isn’t pushy or desperate to get it."
"Yeah, nice," Ben muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm. “And not pushy…” he rubbed his shoulder where Ben had literally pushed him against the lockers. He stared at Emma, part of him wondering what it would be like to be her. How differently people treated them just because of their appearance. If he was her… well, he’d be able to dump Jake at least.
He smirked as he imagined Jake’s face, Emma’s body telling him exactly what Ben wanted.
“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Ben” Emma said as she turned back to her cheerleader friends. They quickly got to gossiping about the upcoming date, leaving Ben totally ignored and alone.
___________________________
Later that evening, Ben sat hunched over his laptop, the soft glow of the screen the only illumination. He’d been clicking around, bored and uninspired, when he came across a forum talking about body swapping. And talking about it *wa*y more seriously then he’d seen before. A role play group?
“NewYou is wild” read the opening post of a thread that caught Ben's attention. A few quick clicks later, he was deep into the thread, engrossed in the accounts shared by the anonymous users, all apparently claiming to have swapped bodies.
“Experienced NewYou for the first time last week with my gym buddy. It was hilarious and weird. Flexing muscles I didn't even know existed and tasting food for the first time without my nut allergy was something else. Having to bench press twice my original weight was cool.”
“Okay, so I swapped with my younger sis, thought it would be a piece of cake. Boy, it was weird. I lost about a foot of height, and everybody treated me real different. She was massively embarrassing in my body too. Bleh! On the upside, I aced a history test for her, so I think she owes me for that.”
“You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I swapped with my cat because my friend Stace dared me to on a sleepover. BAD IDEA! As soon as we swapped, the cat in my old body went kinda crazy. She swiped at me, and do you KNOW how weird it is to get hit by your own hand!?! Stace had to hold her down for us to swap back. 7/5 with rice LOL!”
Thread after thread, post after post, the users' casual discussions about swapping bodies sent Ben's heart racing. They described the shock of waking up in a new body, the strange feeling of looking into a mirror and seeing someone else's face, the sheer thrill of walking in someone else's shoes. Literally!
He had to get in on this.
It turned out downloading the app wasn’t too difficult. You needed to put your phone into developer mode and hook it up to a computer, but essentially you could just download the software from the website and run it. Both people needed to do it on separate phones though, and both needed to agree to swap. That was the tricky part - Ben didn’t know who might want to swap with him of all people.
Unless…
"Emma," Ben mumbled to himself, the idea no longer an impossibility. It was as if the universe was answering his prayers. His mind raced with potential scenarios, all the things he could do. He could finally show Emma the real Jake, he could experience what it was like to be popular, and who knew, maybe he'd enjoy cheerleading. She was always pretty open to trying new things… who knows, maybe she’d do it as a favor?
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his jacket and bolted out of his house. The evening air was cool against his face, and the usually short journey to Emma's house felt like it took ages. He stood in front of her white picket fence, swallowed his nervousness, and walked up to the front door.
He rapped on the door lightly, his heart pounding in his chest. Emma’s mom answered the door, and with a surprised smile, she let him in. Emma's house had always been a home away from home for Ben when they were younger. The familiar smells and sounds brought back a wave of nostalgia.
Ben found Emma in her room, sitting on her bed, her cheerleader uniform discarded in favor of comfy pajamas. Her room was filled with cheerleading trophies, pop posters, and make-up scattered across her dressing table.
“Oh! Hey, Ben!” Emma exclaimed, surprised but clearly pleased. “What are you doing here?”
He took a deep breath. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh, what is it?" Emma asked, sitting up straight, her face filled with curiosity.
"Do you ever wish you could be someone else? Even if it was just for a day?"
She looked at him quizzically, her head tilted to one side. "Um, no, not really. I mean I’ve been curious about–” she stopped talking, “Why are you asking?"
Ben took out his phone, showing her the NewYou app he had just downloaded.
"Because," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, "I think we can."
Emma looked at the screen of Ben's phone, frowning slightly. "NewYou? Is this some sort of game?"
"No, it's not a game," Ben said, shaking his head. "It's an app. It lets two people swap bodies."
He held his breath, waiting for Emma's reaction. She stared at the screen for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "That's ridiculous! There's no way such a thing is real. You can't seriously believe this, Ben."
Ben didn't waver, didn't retract his statement. He had expected her to be skeptical. "I know it sounds crazy, but I think it's worth a try. Think about it, Emma. What if you could see the world from a different perspective? Wouldn't you like to experience what it's like to be someone else?"
Emma stopped laughing, considering his words. She looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
He nodded, keeping his gaze steady on hers. "I am."
A thoughtful silence filled the room as Emma took in his words. Ben could see the gears turning in her head. He knew her well enough to know that she was considering it. Emma was always up for a challenge, always ready to try new things. That was one of the things he admired about her.
Finally, she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "Okay, let's say I believe you. And let's say I'm willing to give this a shot. Why would you want to swap bodies with me?"
Ben considered his words carefully. "To see the world differently. You’re popular, you’re cool, people look up to you, and you’re, you know…” he gestured at her.
She giggled. “Hot?”
“I was going to say ‘a girl’, but yeah, that too.”
She punched him on the arm. “Alright Cinderella! You better not ruin this view when I get back to it!” She looked down at herself, stretching her arms out.
Ben exhaled, relief washing over him. He grinned at Emma, excitement buzzing in his veins.
Emma downloaded the app on her phone, following Ben's instructions, then they both opened it and Ben initiated the request to swap. Emma accepted it with a quick tap on her screen.
Their screens flickered for a moment.
“I don’t think anything happened.” said Emma, unsurprised. “God you almost had me going there!”
“No, no, wait” said Ben. “I can feel something.”
His hands and feet had begun tingling, and his stomach felt like it was dropping. Down. Away.
Ben blinked and found himself sitting on the other side of the room.
His phone buzzed. “Swap successful. Enjoy your NewYou!"
Ben gasped and looked down at his hands. Delicate fingers, manicured nails instead of his usual large and bony hands.
"Oh my god," Ben whispered, looking up at Emma. His voice was higher, softer. Emma's voice. His heart raced as he reached up to touch his - no, her - face, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers.
He looked at Emma, who seemed to be going through a similar realization. Her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she looked down at her - his - hands.
"Ben," she said, her voice lower, rougher. Ben's voice. "I think it worked."
Ben could only nod, his mind racing with the possibilities. They had done it. They had swapped bodies! And… easily! How was this not in every media outlet? How was this not all over the internet?!
Still clutching the phone in his dainty hands, Ben stood up, surprised by the effort it took. He looked down. The ground seemed closer than normal, as if he wasn’t standing up at all. He gingerly touched the soft fabric of the sweater he was wearing, and the gentle curve of the waist beneath it. He felt light, free, different. He very deliberately didn’t touch the breasts that were now hanging on his chest, not when their former owner was standing just a few feet away, though he felt them jiggle as he moved.
Emma, standing awkwardly in Ben’s body, snorted. “This is so weird,” she grumbled, adjusting the baggy jeans. She tried to cross her arms, a habit of hers, but found the movement unfamiliar and slightly awkward.
Then, she turned to look at her own body, now occupied by Ben. She raised a hand and brushed her own hair out of her former eyes.
Seeing her own face from an outsider's perspective was strange, almost surreal. She frowned as she gently tracing the contours of the face she knew so well, yet was now so alien. The long lashes, the soft lips, the small mole on the left cheek - everything was the same and yet, so very different.
"Wow," she breathed out, her voice deep and rough. "I didn't realize... I mean, you're… I'm… pretty."
Ben blushed, a pink hue appearing on his - no, her - fair cheeks. It was a strange sensation. His skin tingling, heart pounding in a chest that was no longer his.
“Yeah, you… I mean, I…” Ben stammered, flustered and unsure how to respond to that. “This is a lot to take in.”
There was a pause as the reality of their situation sunk in. They had swapped bodies, an impossible event made reality by an obscure app and a moment of daring curiosity.
"Let's just... take it slow, okay?" Emma finally broke the silence. She gestured to a mirror on the wall. "Maybe we should start with getting used to our new appearances."
And so they did. They stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the reflection that looked back at them. There was Ben, there was Emma. But the reflection of Ben wasn’t where it should be – it was two feet to the left of where it should be! Weird.
Just as they were starting to make peace with their reflections, a knock echoed through the room, followed by a muffled voice. "Emma, honey, dinner's ready."
Emma's - or rather, Ben's - eyes widened. He quickly turned to look at Emma, panic flickering in his gaze. She seemed calmer. “Well, you wanted to experience being me!”
"I know," he said, trying to steady his racing heart. "I have to go. I can do this. I can pretend to be you for one evening."
Emma was silent for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. "Just... be careful, okay?" she finally said, her tone serious. "And text me if anything happens."
Ben nodded, giving her a small, assuring smile. Then, with a last look at the mirror, he left the room, his new ponytail bouncing with each step he took.
Dinner was a rollercoaster of emotions for Ben. Emma's parents were lovely people, he found, even if her younger brother was quite the pest. He did his best to act like Emma, mimicking her speech patterns and mannerisms. He laughed at her father's puns and helped her mother serve the salad. It was going well until dessert.
As he was reaching for a piece of pie, his sleeve snagged the bowl of cream, sending it splattering all over himself and the tablecloth. A gasp ran through the room, and Ben felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
"Oh, Emma!" her mother exclaimed, rushing to wipe the mess with a napkin. "That's not like you at all."
Ben blushed and apologized.
“I guess you better go have a shower and clean up. Don’t worry about it down here.”
Oh.
Oh no.
_______________________
Meanwhile, back at Ben's place, Emma was trying to navigate Ben's life. His parents were nice enough, though they asked a lot of questions about school and her - Ben's - future. She smiled and nodded, providing vague answers when she could. She even played a round of video games with Ben's 13 year old sister. It was a novelty for Emma, who had never been much of a gamer. But, it was nice, she thought. Different, but nice.
They were loading a new level when her phone buzzed. A message from ‘Emma’.
“Hey, so, um, I spilled some pie all over you.”
For some reason Ben had also sent a picture. It was an angled selfie, showed Emma’s body standing alone in her room, barefoot, clothes askew, and still covered in pie
“Should I- change and shower?”
Emma paused. Obviously? She wasn’t sure when he expected, if they were going to be each other for a few days. Was he never going to use the toilet too?
She texted back a “Yes, of course. Don’t wet my hair.” and got back to the game.
_____________________
As the first tendrils of sunlight began to stretch across the sky, Ben, in Emma's lithe frame, and Emma, housed within Ben's gangly body, stood side by side at the bus stop. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of dew-soaked grass.
They stood in silence, each immersed in the thoughts of their extraordinary circumstance.
"Your brother is quite the early bird, isn't he?" Ben finally broke the silence, his voice soft with Emma's familiar lilt. He was fiddling with a thread on Emma's pink scarf, not meeting her gaze. “He woke me up by diving on top of me at six in the morning.”
Emma giggled, the sound strange in the deeper resonance of Ben's voice. "Yeah, he'll do that. Any trouble after the pie incident?"
Ben blushed. “I swear I didn’t look at anything I shouldn’t have!”
Emma giggled again. “Well you better have cleaned everything you should have! I certainly enjoyed not having to sit down to pee this morning.”
“You mean you’ve seen-”
“What did you expect, you dolt! I’m inside your body!” Emma spread her arms wide, as if showing him who she was.
“It gets bigger…” Ben muttered
“Oh, I know”
“Wait- what–”
Their casual conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their school bus. The familiar yellow behemoth lumbered into view, its tires crunching on the gravel. They climbed aboard, momentarily parting ways to their respective seats.
No sooner had they settled down than a chorus of high-pitched squeals rang through the bus. A gaggle of Emma's friends, a vibrant assortment of high school girls, were waving energetically at Ben.
"Emma! Get over here!" they called out voices bubbling with enthusiasm.
Ben shot Emma a puzzled look, to which she responded with a smirk. "Go on. It will be good for you."
With a sigh that was equal parts resignation and nervous excitement, Ben rose and joined Emma's friends. Their conversation was a whirlwind of girlish chatter, an onslaught of cheerleading stories, crush confessions, and fashion advice. Soon, one of the girls produced a top from a bags, a beautiful, silky number that made Ben's new heart flutter.
"This would look SO good on you, Emma!" one of them gushed, holding the top up against Ben's body. "The color would really bring out your eyes!"
Feeling a warm blush creep up his cheeks, Ben nodded and thanked them, feeling an odd pang of guilt for the deceit. He was not Emma, and yet, he was playing her part, basking in her social glow. A small part of him felt like a fraud. Plus the shirt was… rather revealing. It would show off his cleavage and belly button at once. He tried to turn his head to see what Emma thought, but he couldn’t get a good look.
“I wanted to give it to you for your date with Jake” the girl continued, unabated. “He’s got a thing for midriffs, Jess told me that when she was dating him, he…”
From the back of the bus, Emma was watching the entire spectacle unfold. An unfamiliar twinge of jealousy gnawed at her as she saw Ben - or rather, her body - being swept away into the mirthful chatter of her friends. She was left there, alone, in Ben's body, a spectator in her own life.
But amidst that feeling, there was also a sense of intrigue. Observing Ben navigate the complexities of her social life was enlightening, to say the least. He wasn’t being especially suave, but her friends seemed so understanding and patient with him- her- she should really appreciate them more. An off day? Nobody was batting an eye.
As the bus pulled up at the school, Ben was swept away with Emma’s friends, while Emma followed slowly behind, left alone by everyone. Ben was just beginning to get comfortable with their cheerful chatter when a friend, Amanda, suddenly leaned in and squinted at Ben's face.
"Oh my god, Emma!" Amanda gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. "What happened to your makeup? It looks like a two-year-old attacked your face with crayons."
The group of girls burst into laughter, their high-pitched giggles echoing around the bus. Ben felt heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d tried his hand at a bit of powder that morning, but he didn’t think it was *that* bad. He looked at Emma, who gave him an empathetic shrug. The world of makeup was a mystery to Ben, a chapter in the book of femininity he had never even flipped through.
"Well, we can't let you go around looking like that," Amanda declared, standing up. She took Ben's hand and started pulling him towards the bathroom. "We need to fix this, now."
As Amanda began to work on Ben's face, he watched his reflection in the mirror. It was surreal, seeing Amanda's hands move across his face, feeling the soft brush against his skin, but not recognizing the face that stared back at him. It was a face he was familiar with - Emma's face - but it was also a stranger's.
"Trust me, you'll look so much better after this," Amanda chatted away, her voice a comforting hum in the background. Ben listened to her and the other girls as they talked about the latest school gossip, their plans for the weekend, the new teacher everyone was crushing on.
The chatter was mundane, the kind of stuff Ben usually tuned out, but in this setting, it felt oddly intimate. He felt like he was getting a peek into a secret world, a glimpse into the life Emma led when he wasn't around.
Eventually, Amanda stepped back, her work done. Ben looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were subtly lined, his cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, his lips a soft pink. He looked like Emma. And, strangely enough, he felt like Emma too.
"There," Amanda said, beaming at him. "Much better."
Ben blinked at his reflection, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to. But for now, he was just Emma, living her life, one makeup touch-up at a time.
_______________________
Emma, inside Ben's body, could not escape the sensation of strangeness that filled her every step. Even the simple act of walking was different, the additional height and strength both a wonder and a challenge. She found herself bumping into things more often, her perception of her body's dimensions no longer accurate.
The bell for gym class rang just as she was getting a hang of her new stride. She watched as Ben was dragged off into the women’s change room by her classmates, and she sighed and headed into the boys. It was loud and smelly, but she was able to change undisturbed, her new bony fingers fumbling over the unfamiliar fabric of Ben's gym kit.
Basketball was the chosen game of the day, a game Emma had always played, but never particularly excelled at. She was too short to really have much of a chance. But as she stepped onto the court in Ben's body, she felt a surge of energy she had never experienced before. Her fingers closed around the leather ball with a certainty that surprised her. She could even hold the ball in one hand!
The first few minutes of the game were a chaos of movement. Emma watched her classmates as they moved across the court, noting their strategies, the ways they used their bodies to block or pass. Her own body responded in ways she wasn't expecting. It was taller, faster, stronger. Who knew that Ben’s body contained such power?
To her amazement, she found herself actually enjoying the game. She could shoot, pass and defend with ease. Her body moved with a fluidity she had never known, each move instinctive, as though she had been playing this way for years. The ball seemed to follow her command, the hoop an easy target.
As the game continued, Emma became more and more confident. She dodged her opponents, her new height providing her with an advantage she had never had before. She was making shots that she would have only dreamed of making in her own body.
She looked at the scoreboard. Her team was in the lead, and she had been a significant contributor. Her eyes met Ben's - or rather her own - standing on the sidelines, and she saw a look of surprise. Emma smiled, a small sense of pride washing over her.
When the final whistle blew, her team had won, and she found herself surrounded by her cheering classmates, guys slapping on the back, rustling her hair, making her feel proud! They would never do that to her in her own body! It was like all of the distance that she usually felt between herself and guys had disappeared, there was no awkwardness in the touching, no creepiness in the looks. They just slapped her on the back and cheered.
Emma realized then, under the bright lights of the gym, that she was living a day in Ben's shoes that she would never have experienced in her own body. For the first time, she felt a strange sense of gratitude towards the body swap. It wasn't all bad, after all.
__________________
Meanwhile, Ben had been navigating through the labyrinth of Emma's school day, filled with its own unique challenges. There was an increased attention to detail, an amplified sensitivity to social cues, an intricate dance of interactions that he was not familiar with.
When it was time for gym class, something that Ben had always dreaded, he found himself lucky enough to be on the sidelines, designated as one of the scorekeepers.
As the game started, his attention was drawn to his own body on the basketball court. Emma actually seemed to be enjoying herself! And not just enjoying herself, she was good! He watched in awe as she swiped the ball from an opposing player with a quickness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and then sprinted down the court before passing the ball hard and fast to a teammate who scored.
She was good, better than good. In his body, Emma was making shots that neither of them could have done in their own forms. What gives! She was moving with a confidence, a certain ease that was strangely mesmerizing.
He found himself clapping along with the others, cheering each time she scored a point. It was surreal, watching his own body perform so well under someone else's control. At the same time, he felt a kind of jealousy. How come he couldn’t play like that? A team mate whooped as Emma scored again, and high fived his old body as they ran up the court together. Ben didn’t even know that guy’s name. Why couldn’t he be popular like that?
As the final whistle blew, he watched as Emma's team celebrated their victory, watched as his own body was surrounded by cheering classmates, hugged and slapped and lifted up in the air. Ben clapped quietly, feeling strange, but when Emma jogged passed, she beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile.
He followed Emma’s friends back into the girls’ change room, and couldn’t help but chuckle as they chatted about “Ben's” newfound skills. One of them even wondered if he was single!
What the hell was going on?
______________________________________
The lunchroom was buzzing with activity as Ben took a seat at Emma's usual spot, surrounded by her friends. He got a salad. That’s the kind of thing Emma usually ate, right?
He found himself laughing and giggling with the other girls. Something inside him had relaxed a bit and he was having fun exaggerating his body’s exploits with them.
“Oh yeah” Ben said, “And his arms are super muscular!”
One of the girls laughed. “Oh shove off it, Emma! Now you’re just being silly!”
“But speaking of big arms…” another girl said with a grin.
Ben looked up, expecting to see Emma in his body. Instead, he was confronted by Jake, a smug, condescending grin on his face.
"Hey Emma," Jake greeted, seeming to dazzle everyone else at the table. "Looking gorgeous today, as usual."
Ben blushed. This was so weird.
“Uh…”
“So, I was thinking after our date on Thursday we could head up to the river. My Dad said I could borrow his BMW for the night. What do you reckon?”
Ewwwww god no! Ben was in no place to be thinking about *that*. He’d only been a girl for 12 hours or so!
“Uh, no, no thank you.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Ben looked down at himself. His lithe body, bare legs, perfect skin. Fuck Jake, he didn’t need to justify himself. The whole point of becoming Emma was so that he could feel what it was like to be socially powerful, daring, bold! And… he could do whatever he wanted!
“Because.. you’re a brainless moron.” he said, a slight smirk coming onto his face. Emma’s face! He was doing it! Emma was dumping Jake!
Jake’s mouth opened slightly, and he frowned, more confused than upset.
“Yeah, that’s right. You’re a bully. You’re mean. You’re an ugly, flat footed, stupid, neanderthal, um… dumb… just awful person!”
“What? But I thought-”
“And everybody hates you.” he added, just for good measure.
Jake clenched his jaw.
“So fuck off, actually, yeah fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of. I never want to see you again!”
Ben smirked. That felt good.
Jake's face paled, shock evident in his blue eyes. There was an agonizingly long pause as the words hung in the air, the cafeteria around them a blur of stares and whispers.
With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Ben at the center of attention at the table, the girls still wide-eyed and silent.
Ben’s smug grin faded as he looked around the table, seeing the shock on the faces of Emma's friends. Surely it wasn’t that bad? Jake *was* an awful human. Emma would get over it. Besides, it was in her best interests not to end up with somebody like that.
These thoughts did little to help stop the sinking feeling in Ben’s stomach as he saw Emma gaping at him from across the room. She started to storm over to him, then stopped, seeming to change her mind, and scampered out of the room after Jake, tears in her eyes.
Ah.
Yes.
That was kind of mean. Just not to Jake.
To Be Continued.
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Hi there! I'm a 23-year-old woman, renting out my body to pay for medical school. I work with an agency that uses neuralink implants to let my renters see through my eyes, control my actions, and essentially live in my skin while I'm unconscious. Once their session is over, I wake up without any recollection of what they've done. It's like I was asleep or in a coma, but meanwhile my body was up and about doing things. The industry calls us 'bodies for rent' or 'meatsuits', though some of us prefer to be known as 'surrogates'.
I let people rent my meatsuit (and I can’t remember it) AMA
Hi there! I'm a 23-year-old woman, renting out my body to pay for medical school. I work with an agency that uses neuralink implants to let my renters see through my eyes, control my actions, and essentially live in my skin while I'm unconscious. Once their session is over, I wake up without any recollection of what they've done. It's like I was asleep or in a coma, but meanwhile my body was up and about doing things. The industry calls us 'bodies for rent' or 'meatsuits', though some of us prefer to be known as 'surrogates'.
It sounds scary, but it's completely safe, regulated, and - dare I say it - kinda fun. Let's get into all the gritty realities of the renting industry. Ask me anything!
How does it feel when you wake up after being 'rented'? Any physical fatigue?
Great question! It's a bit like waking up from a deep sleep. There's a period of disorientation, but that clears up quickly. As for physical fatigue, it depends on what my body has been doing. If my renter had been doing strenuous activities, then yes, I might feel a little worn out.
Aren't you afraid that someone might misuse your body?
That's a common concern, but the industry has safeguards in place. Renters sign contracts agreeing not to harm the body or engage in illegal activities. Plus, there's constant monitoring by a neutral third party during the rental period. If anything suspicious happens, they can shut down the session.
How much can you make in this business?
It varies depending on factors like the duration of the session, what the renter plans to do, and even the desirability of the surrogate. I make a comfortable amount, enough to pay my medical school tuition and living expenses.
Can you sense anything while being rented? Any kind of dreams?
Not at all. It's like being in a very deep sleep, without dreams. I wake up completely blank, with no memory or sensation from the rental period.
Do people ever have sex or masturbate when they rent you?
Yes, of course, it’s part of the job. I basically expect more often than not to have the renter touch me. It’s not as bad as it sounds – it’s basically my hand doing it, after all. Sometimes I feel a little sore after – especially when I’m rented by guys, who tend to be a bit less gentle with my body – but nothing serious.
Do your friends and family know about this? How do they feel?
Yes, they know, and it took some time for them to understand. They were concerned at first, but they've seen how regulated and safe it is, and how it's helping me achieve my dream of becoming a doctor. So, they're supportive now!
How did you get into this business?
I stumbled upon an advertisement and was intrigued. I did my research, understood the risks and benefits, and decided it was a viable way to finance my medical studies. And here I am!
Any advice for someone considering becoming a surrogate?
Do your homework. Understand the pros and cons. Consider the physical and mental aspects - remember, your body might be doing things you're not used to. Also, ensure you're working with a reputable company. There are sketchy operators out there.
What was your most memorable experience after waking up from a rental period?
There was this one time when I woke up in a beautiful dress, covered in glitter and glam, standing in the middle of what seemed to be a high-end fashion event. The smooth silk of the dress hugged my body, contrasting starkly against the cold, air-conditioned atmosphere of the venue. The dress was a stunning shade of midnight blue, matching the color of my eyes, and it was sprinkled with silver glitters, twinkling as they caught the spotlights. High heels elongated my petite frame, although they made my feet ache a bit. People were clapping and cheering, and I had this feeling of exhilaration that lingered even after the confusion had passed.
The aroma of rich perfume and champagne wafted through the air, and my lips tasted faintly of a delicate canapé. My hands were a little shaky from the adrenaline, and I felt the cool touch of a glass of bubbly in my right hand. I could tell by the appreciative eyes and stunned silence that my renter had just pulled off a fantastic runway walk.
I felt strangely empowered, stepping out of my usual comfort zone of t-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes, into this glamorous world of fashion, something I'd never dare to do on my own. The moment felt almost surreal, like a scene straight out of a movie. I loved the feeling of confidence, of owning the room. Even though it wasn't me who had strutted down the catwalk, a small part of that boldness lingered, reminding me of my own potential.
Have you ever felt violated or uneasy after a rental session?
Yes, there have been moments of discomfort. One time, I woke up in a very crowded place, in the middle of a music festival. I’m a bit of an introvert, so waking up in such a noisy, chaotic environment was quite jarring. My body was adorned in a loose crop top, denim shorts, and a floral headband – typical festival attire, but it felt strange since I usually prefer more conservative clothing. My hair, normally tied up in a neat bun, was let loose and felt messy with dried sweat and probably some beer someone had spilled.
I could still feel the throb of the loud music in my ears, the vibrations settling into my body, like a low hum beneath my skin. My feet ached from dancing, my throat was parched, and there was a residual taste of beer and cheap festival food on my tongue. My hands were stained with neon paint, evidence of the craziness of the night. The faint smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke clung to my skin, making me feel a bit dirty.
I remember feeling lost and out of place among the sea of enthusiastic festival-goers. Although the monitors had ended the rental as soon as I started to regain consciousness, the sudden shift from unconscious tranquility to overwhelming sensory stimulation was a shock. I felt a twinge of unease, realizing how vulnerable I was during these rentals, but it also reminded me of the importance of trust in this profession.
Have you ever considered renting out your body for more extended periods, like a week or a month?
I've given it some thought, but there are practical and emotional challenges to consider. Physically, the neuralink is designed for shorter periods – up to 24 hours. So, waking up in the same clothes I wore a day ago is common, sometimes with minor changes like a different pair of shoes or an added accessory. My body, toned from regular exercise and yoga, would handle the physical strain quite well, but there is a limit to how long the technology can keep my consciousness suppressed. The device needs to be recharged, and my body needs rest and rejuvenation.
Emotionally, there's a strange intimacy in sharing my body for such extended periods. Every time I wake up after a rental, it's as though a veil is lifted from my eyes. There's a brief moment of disorientation, like a foggy morning, where I'm not quite sure where I am or what has happened. My fingers would glide over the fabric of my clothes, tracing the alien feel of a shirt or a dress that I didn’t remember putting on. There's a rush of sensations, the leftover smells of where my renter has been, the lingering tastes on my tongue, and the physical echoes of their activities.
Imagine that feeling extended for a week or a month. Imagine the shift in my daily routines, my eating habits, and my social interactions. My body would live a life that my mind wasn't a part of. As it stands, the rental periods are already a leap of faith, a testament to my trust in the technology, the system, and the people who rent me. Prolonging the rental period only escalates the implications.
However, the notion isn't without its appeal. I could potentially earn more, and it might provide a unique opportunity for me to experience different lives. But for now, the constraints outweigh the benefits. I've chosen to prioritize my sense of self, my personal boundaries, and the preservation of my own life experiences.
Do you have any plans for after medical school? Will you continue to be a surrogate?
Once I'm done with medical school, I plan to specialize in neurology. Being a surrogate has given me an intriguing perspective on how our brain functions and how advanced technology like neuralink can integrate with it. I'm eager to dive deeper, to understand the complex mysteries of our brains. My body, though petite and young, has become a fascinating landscape for my academic curiosity. Each pulse in my veins, every breath I take, has become a testament to the marvels of human biology and technology intertwined.
As for continuing as a surrogate, it's unlikely. Once I start my practice, my focus will be on my patients. I won’t have the time, or the emotional bandwidth, to lend my body to others. Plus, there's a certain comfort in the idea of regaining exclusive ownership of my body. To wake up in my bed, in my clothes, knowing that whatever memories I have from the previous day are my own, sounds incredibly comforting after a few years of sharing it with people.
There's a strange satisfaction in being a surrogate. It's not just about the money, although that's a significant factor. It's about providing a service, allowing people to experience life from a different perspective. There's a sense of pride, of fulfillment, in knowing that my body can help fulfill someone else's dream or desire, even if I don't remember any of it. So, while I look forward to focusing on my medical career, I'll always cherish the experiences and insights I've gained as a surrogate.
Ever stumbled upon photos or videos of yourself from a rental session you don't remember?
Yes, it's happened on more than one occasion. There's something strangely unnerving about seeing photos or videos of yourself in action, knowing that you don’t remember a single moment of it.
The first time this happened, I was scrolling through social media when I found a picture of myself at a charity marathon. My usually fair complexion was flushed with exertion, sweat glinting on my forehead, my blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, strands sticking to my moist skin. The tight runner’s outfit clung to my petite frame, accentuating my toned muscles, highlighting my runner's posture. In the photo, I was crossing the finish line, arms in the air, a picture of triumph and satisfaction.
Seeing myself there, the exuberance on my face, the sheer exhilaration in my wide, bright eyes was surreal. It felt like looking at a doppelganger or a twin, someone who shared my body, my face, but lived experiences that I didn’t remember. It was as if this 'other me' had successfully completed a marathon, something I'd never done. It was a bizarre mixture of pride and confusion, seeing a triumphant moment that I had no recollection of.
There were a few other times that it happened – one in particular was pretty creepy – but there’s no rule against it right now, so, you know.
Have you ever confronted a renter about the things they've done while renting your body?
I’ve never directly confronted a renter, but there have been times when I've requested the agency to talk to them. Once, I found a video of myself eating a tarantula at a food festival. My stomach churned as I watched 'me' in the video, sporting a wide grin, taking a big bite of the deep-fried spider, savoring the crunch with evident delight.
I remembered feeling a bizarre disconnect as I watched my own fingers delicately holding the spider, the crunch echoing in my ears as I bit down, the sound so vivid, it felt real. My heart pounded as my face on the screen twisted into an expression of joy and satisfaction, my blue eyes twinkling with daring and adventure. The image haunted me, even when I had closed my eyes, the back of my eyelids mirroring the ghastly sight. The discomfort was so intense that I had to reach out to the agency, reminding them of my arachnophobia and the importance of renters respecting the surrogate's personal boundaries.
The process was quite straightforward, actually. The agency assured me they would remind the renter of the rules. The interesting (and perhaps, unnerving) part of this whole situation was the realization of how much control I had surrendered. While I was tucked safely away in the realm of unconsciousness, my body was out there, in the world, engaging in activities I’d never imagine doing in a conscious state. It brought up a mix of feelings – a tad of unease, a hint of exhilaration, and an odd sense of curiosity about what my body is capable of when untethered from my conscious mind.
It was unsettling to find a video of myself doing something that was so contradictory to my personality. Yet, it was also an opportunity for me to face my fear, albeit in a roundabout way. It didn't cure my arachnophobia, but it did make me question how much of our fears are mental barriers. It was like staring at a reflection of what I could potentially be, unbound by personal fears or biases. And in a twisted way, it was liberating.
Although I don’t wish for a repeat of such experiences, these instances have pushed me to reflect on myself and consider my perceptions. They've nudged me out of my comfort zone and made me realize the extraordinary adaptability of the human mind and body. And for that, I am oddly grateful.
Have you ever found provocative photos of yourself from a rental session? How did you react?
Yes, I have. One incident that particularly stands out was when I stumbled upon a series of photos of me dressed as a 'catgirl' at what seemed to be a cosplay event.
In these images, I was dressed in a black, form-fitting bodysuit that hugged my petite figure, accentuating my curves. Ears pointed upwards were attached to a headband on my blonde hair, which was styled into playful, loose curls. A long, fluffy tail was clipped onto the back of the bodysuit, and a mischievous smirk played on my face. My eyes were highlighted with dramatic, catlike makeup, and I had a delicate, diamond-shaped nose and whiskers painted on. Completing the look were long, black gloves and boots, adding a certain allure to the whole ensemble.
Seeing myself in this provocative outfit was an unnerving experience. I've always been more of a modest dresser, preferring comfort and functionality over fashion or trends. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the photos. My cheeks, usually fair, turned a deep shade of red, my body reacting to the shock and embarrassment even though my mind was still trying to process what it was seeing.
Despite the initial shock, I had to admire the artistry involved. The attention to detail in the costume and makeup was impeccable. My body looked confident, empowered, even seductive - a stark contrast to my usual demeanor. There was an undeniable beauty in the images that I couldn't ignore, a transformation so complete that it was hard to believe it was me.
Although this incident did make me feel uncomfortable, it also forced me to confront my own perceptions of my body and my sexuality. It showed me a version of myself that I had never considered before, pushing me to reassess my boundaries and my comfort zones.
These photos served as a reminder of how diverse and varied human experiences can be, and how our bodies can be a canvas for different forms of expression. It wasn't an easy experience, but it was a learning opportunity for me. Since then, I've become more open-minded, learning to embrace the unexpected and finding beauty in all forms of self-expression.
What's the most bizarre situation you've found yourself in after a rental session?
One of the most bizarre situations I've woken up to was when I found myself at a beach party, covered in chocolate, and wearing a bikini.
The moment my consciousness resurfaced, I was greeted by the smell of salt and sunscreen, underscored by the sweet scent of melted chocolate. My skin felt sticky, and as I glanced down, I saw my petite body donned in a vibrant red bikini, smothered with chocolate sauce. The droplets were scattered like modern art across the soft, fair skin of my abdomen, my arms, and even my legs. The sunlight glinted off the slick coating, giving me an oddly shiny appearance.
Around me, people were laughing and cheering, music blaring from nearby speakers. The party seemed to be in full swing, the beach lined with young people engaged in various activities - some were playing beach volleyball, others were tanning, sipping cocktails, or dancing to the lively music. A makeshift stage had been set up nearby, and it seemed like I had just participated in a chocolate-themed competition.
The sandy grit beneath my feet, the comforting warmth of the sun on my chocolate-covered skin, the riotous noise of the party, all contributed to a sensory overload. But amidst the chaos, there was also an underlying feeling of exhilaration and freedom, a giddy aftertaste of what seemed to have been a wild and enjoyable event.
Despite the initial shock, a part of me couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. There was something incredibly surreal and yet comically charming about it. Extracting myself from the party, I made my way towards the sea, intending to wash off the chocolate and to reclaim a sense of normalcy. As the cool waves lapped against my legs, I remember feeling a renewed sense of appreciation for my unusual job. While it occasionally landed me in sticky situations (quite literally in this case), it also made for some truly unforgettable experiences.
Have you ever found photos taken by a renter afterwards, anything embarrassing?
Oh, you have no idea. There was this one time when I woke up to find a series of pictures on my phone that left me both amused and perplexed.
The first photo showed me in a bright yellow chicken costume. My usually petite and slender figure was enveloped in a fluffy, oversized suit, complete with a red plume on top. My face, usually serene or focused, was contorted into a comical squawk, my mouth wide open, my eyes squeezed shut in exaggerated expression.
Next, I found a picture of myself wearing a pair of oversized glasses, their frames so large they covered half my face, my blue eyes appearing comically magnified. A fluorescent green wig was placed haphazardly on my head, strands of synthetic hair falling over my forehead. My lips were stretched into a goofy grin, my cheeks dimpled with laughter.
The photo parade continued with me donning an array of humorous costumes – a pirate with a plastic hook, a faux fur-lined onesie of a unicorn, a clown with a red nose and oversized shoes. In each photo, I was making different faces - there was a mock-scared expression, a wide-eyed surprise, a faux-angry scowl, and many more.
A couple got a little bit more lewd. There were a few, um, revealing selfies in the mix – one where they’d stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes back in a pretty stupid looking way. And one really embarrassing one where they were basically naked and cupping my boobs for the camera. I did have a word with the agency after that one – the renters aren’t meant to do that.
Does your body ever feel different when you return to it? Like, sore, worn out, used differently?
Absolutely, my body often feels different when I return to it after a rental session. It’s almost like getting reacquainted with a familiar yet slightly altered space.
One instance that particularly stands out was after a renter who was evidently a dance enthusiast had used my body. I woke up in a dance studio, my reflection mirrored in the wall-length mirror. My petite frame was dressed in a flowing, practice skirt and a snug-fitting top. My blonde hair, usually worn down, was pulled up into a tight, professional bun.
When I moved, I felt a certain soreness in my muscles that I wasn’t used to. It was clear that my body had been stretching and moving in ways that were unfamiliar. My calves throbbed slightly, hinting at an intense session of pointe work. My shoulders and back felt looser, likely the result of expressive modern dance movements.
Despite the soreness, there was also an underlying sense of satisfaction. I could tell that my body had been put through a substantial, yet enjoyable workout. As I moved, I could feel a fluidity in my motions, a rhythm that seemed to resonate in my muscles. It was as if my body had picked up a faint echo of the dance, a lingering melody imprinted in the way I moved.
In these moments, my body sometimes feels like an instrument that has been played beautifully and then set aside. There’s a feeling of having been ‘used’ – not in a negative sense, but in the way that a well-loved book is used, its pages turned carefully, its spine bearing the imprints of a reader's hands. There’s a sense of having been part of someone else’s story, even if just for a while.
So wait, you wake up in random positions after each session? What happens if you don't know how to get home after, haha
Haha, yes, I do wake up in different places following a rental session, but it's not as chaotic as it sounds.
Renters are required to ensure I'm in a safe environment before the rental period ends. This rule is strictly enforced by the agency, ensuring that I don't wake up in dangerous or compromising situations. The location can be anywhere - a park, a café, a shopping mall, even a dance studio, as I mentioned in an earlier response. But whatever the location, safety is paramount.
As for getting back home, that's rarely been a problem. My phone is always with me, and it has all the necessary apps and information for navigation. Plus, we live in an era where rideshares are just a few taps away.
However, there was this one time when I woke up in a botanical garden. It was early evening, the setting sun casting long, golden shadows around me. I was seated on a park bench, amidst a riot of colorful flowers and lush greenery. A gentle breeze was playing with my blonde curls, carrying the scent of earth and blooming roses. The tranquillity of the scene was almost meditative.
Despite not immediately recognizing the place, a quick check on my phone showed it to be within the city limits. Instead of rushing home, I decided to take my time exploring the garden, reveling in the unexpected treat. It was a refreshing change of pace from my usual, fast-paced life. Moments like these make the unpredictable nature of my work not just tolerable, but sometimes surprisingly rewarding.
Do people ever... you know... need to use the toilet when you're being rented?
That's a part of the reality not often talked about, isn't it? Yes, biological needs don't stop during a rental session. The human body, including mine, continues to function as usual - this includes needing to use the toilet.
However, I must assure you that the agency has regulations in place to ensure that renters deal with such situations appropriately. Before a rental session, every renter is thoroughly briefed about treating the body with respect and maintaining personal hygiene.
The first time I woke up in a restroom, I must admit it was a bit disconcerting. I was in a posh restaurant's restroom, staring at my reflection in a tastefully framed mirror. My body was dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress, my blonde hair swept into an intricate updo. My usually bare face had a dash of makeup - a subtle smoky eye and a soft pink lip color.
What startled me was not the environment, but the stark realisation of the intimacy that the rental process implied. In that moment I understood that my renters weren't just walking in my shoes; they were living in my skin. It brought a level of humility and vulnerability that took me a while to get used to.
Over time, however, I've come to terms with it. It's a part of the job, as mundane as it might sound. And it underscores the fact that even when dressed up for an elegant evening out, the human body has its fundamental needs that don't pause for anyone, renter or otherwise. It's a humbling reminder of our shared biology, stripping away the glamour and bringing us down to the basics of existence.
Wait, you woke up in a restroom? Why did they take your body somewhere else before dismounting? Did something go wrong?
It's an interesting question, and to be honest, each rental experience can be quite unique, including where I regain consciousness.
In the case of the restroom scenario, nothing actually went wrong. Renters are advised to ensure I'm in a safe and private location before the rental period ends. In this particular case, I suspect the renter wanted to ensure privacy at the moment of dismounting, which is why they chose a restroom – I suppose they didn’t want to waste their rental minutes walking back through the city.
When I regained consciousness, I was in the ladies' room. Despite the initial disorientation, the transition was smooth. I was safe, and as per the regulations, my dignity and privacy were maintained.
In such circumstances, it's vital to maintain composure and confidence, which is something I've learned with experience. While it can feel strange to navigate these post-rental situations, it's also a fascinating exploration of human behavior and norms. It's like jumping into the middle of a movie and trying to figure out the plot. And in a strange way, that's part of the appeal for me. It keeps life interesting.
What happens to the renter's bodies while they control yours?
While the renters are controlling my body, their own bodies are in a state of neural stasis, almost akin to being in a deep sleep or a coma. The Neuralink technology takes over the function of their neural signals, effectively allowing their consciousness to be projected into my body. However, their bodies do require care during this time, which is where the agency comes in.
The agency has a specialized facility where renters' bodies are looked after during the rental period. They're kept in a safe, controlled environment, with continuous monitoring of vital signs to ensure their physical well-being. Medical professionals are always on standby to intervene if any health concerns arise.
I once had the chance to visit this facility. It was a rather surreal experience, seeing rows of bodies lying still, as if in a peaceful sleep. The room was bathed in a soft, soothing light, the air regulated to maintain an optimal temperature. The silence was punctuated by the occasional beep of a heart monitor, lending a rhythmic undertone to the tranquility.
It felt oddly serene, each body representing a person exploring the world in a different form. I remember standing there, thinking about the paradox of the situation - the quiet, unmoving bodies and the vibrant, active minds experiencing life through rented bodies.
This level of care gives me peace of mind, knowing that my renters are taken care of while they're renting my body. It also underscores the mutual trust inherent in this process - while they trust me with their consciousness, I trust them with my body, all the while knowing that we both are in safe hands.
I couldn't imagine doing that work. What if someone made you do something illegal! Or creepy!
While there are thorough safeguards in place to prevent misuse of the rental service, there was one instance that gave me quite a bit of a scare. It's an interesting story about a renter who got too attached to the rental experience and crossed some boundaries.
This individual, let's call him John, had rented my body a few times, and initially, everything seemed fine. However, over time, his behavior started to become problematic. He began requesting my body more frequently, and started leaving me in places that were meaningful to him - his favorite coffee shop, the park where he used to play as a child, and once even outside his apartment.
It was disorienting and unnerving to say the least. Waking up outside John's apartment was particularly alarming. It was late at night, and the street was bathed in the harsh, white glow of the streetlights. I was dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt, my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. The quiet, residential area felt foreign and eerily silent, the only sound being the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.
I started receiving messages from John too, filled with sentiments that were too intimate, too personal. It was as if he was confusing me with someone he knew closely or someone he wished to be close with. The messages made me uncomfortable, their tone straying from friendly to obsessive.
Then he began sending me photographs - selfies he had taken while renting my body. In each of these images, my body was in various scenarios, some casual, others more intimate.
One of the first pictures was of 'me' at his favorite coffee shop, sipping on a caramel latte. The backdrop was familiar to me - the vintage posters on the wall, the warm, wooden interior of the café. My body was casually dressed, a cozy sweater hugging my petite frame, my blonde hair tumbling over my shoulders. It was as if he had taken me on a casual, coffee date.
At first, I found it a bit amusing, even endearing. Here was a man so taken by the experience of renting my body that he wanted to share his moments with me. It was a new angle to the renting experience that I hadn't considered before - the renter wanting to connect on a more personal level.
As more photographs followed, the tone of them started to change. There was one where 'I' was standing on the edge of a rooftop, the city lights glittering in the background. My body, clad in a fitting leather jacket and ripped jeans, seemed to emanate an air of recklessness that was not me. It was unnerving, a stark contrast to the earlier, cozy coffee shop picture.
Some photos of my feet came next, which was kind of odd, and then my own face making a kissy face at the camera. Ugh. Then came the intimate ones - a picture of 'me' lounging on a bed, dressed in a silk nightgown, a soft smile playing on 'my' lips. The familiarity of the scenario, coupled with the knowledge that it wasn't truly me, left me with an uncomfortable feeling, a breach of privacy that was hard to ignore.
That's when it dawned on me that this was more than just a renter enjoying his experiences - it was veering into an obsessive territory. I could see John blurring the lines between the rented experience and real connection, transforming the relationship into something it was not supposed to be.
Things took a turn for the more disturbing when I received a video from John.
I remember when the notification popped up on my phone, it was late at night, and I was just wrapping up some study session. Intrigued and admittedly a little apprehensive, I clicked on the message.
The video was a selfie, but not just any selfie – it was John, renting my body, talking directly into the camera. He’s dressed me in a guy’s business shirt, boxers, and nothing else. The shirt was unbuttoned, and you could see my bare breasts underneath, pretty much totally exposed.
He was sat *outside* on a park bench, legs spread, leaning back with a smirk. He winked at the camera, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before launching into a monologue. The topics were all over the place - he shared his thoughts on books he liked, mused about our supposed 'connection', even hinted at plans he had for future rentals. His gestures were expressive, my hands moving animatedly as he spoke, the sunlight bouncing off the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. The watch was his, I’d never seen it before.
Throughout the video, he wore a knowing smile that was a clear departure from my typical expressions. It was chillingly intimate, uncomfortably personal. Here was a man who seemed to be under the delusion that he was developing a personal, almost romantic relationship with me, despite the starkly impersonal nature of our interaction.
Watching that video, it became clear to me that I needed to act. His delusions, his growing obsession was not just disturbing but potentially dangerous. It was then that I decided to report him to the agency. Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, I take solace in knowing that the system worked as it should, ensuring safety and enforcing boundaries when necessary. It served as a stark reminder of the potential risks and oddities I might face in my unique line of work.
Do renters take care of you? Like, do they eat properly? Exercise?
While renters are usually respectful, it's important to remember that for them, renting a body is often seen as a kind of vacation or escape from their own lives. As such, they might not stick to the same kind of diet and exercise routines I typically do.
There have been times when I've woken up to the remnants of a food binge - empty pizza boxes, chocolate wrappers, ice cream tubs - the works. It's amusing in a way, a clear indication of the renter letting loose and enjoying their 'time off'. I've found myself in the middle of a carnival, the sweet scent of cotton candy lingering on my tongue, or sometimes at an upscale restaurant, the remnants of a steak dinner still on the plate.
Exercise, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be a priority for most renters. Understandably, hitting the gym or going for a run might not be their idea of a fun time while renting someone else's body. As a result, I have to put in the extra work to maintain my fitness and health.
It's an interesting trade-off - I get to pay for medical school, and they get to take a break from their own lives, diets, and routines. It does add an extra layer of challenge to my life, but it's one I've grown accustomed to. I've learned to appreciate the workout sessions, the way my muscles ache after a good run or the soothing burn of a yoga routine. It's a part of my life that's wholly mine, a piece of routine and normalcy amidst the chaotic nature of my job.
At the end of the day, it's about understanding and accepting that my body is shared space. I do my best to provide a fit, healthy body for my renters to use, and in return, they give me the means to chase my dreams.
Hey meatsuitAMA, ever woke up with a badass tattoo that you didn't remember getting?
Ha! Luckily, no! The agency's pretty strict about that stuff - no permanent changes to the body, and that includes tattoos. Although, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about what kind of ink a renter might choose.
Do you ever feel like you're missing out on your own life?
Damn, you're getting deep on me, aren't ya? It's a trip, no doubt. I mean, one minute I'm me, next I'm catching up on the shenanigans some renter got up to. But hey, at least I'm missing out on my life for a good cause, right? And who knows, maybe one day I'll wake up with a Nobel Prize because some renter used my body to solve quantum physics or something!
So, what if a renter decides to go skydiving or bungee jumping?
Well, they're supposed to stick to a set of ground rules, and extreme sports is a big no-no. But honestly? If someone secretly went skydiving with my body, I'd be pissed I missed out on the thrill! But for real, don't do that, future renters. I don't want my heart giving out at 22.
Are you ever scared of not getting your body back?
Haha, you know how to keep a girl up at night. But no, the tech's solid, and I trust the agency. But you bet your ass I've had some nightmares about that. If my body goes on a world tour without me, I better at least get a postcard.
Do your friends or family know about your job?
Well, mom knows, and she wasn't thrilled, let me tell ya. Tried to get me to consider waitressing or something. But my pals think it's pretty cool. And it's one hell of an ice breaker at parties. Imagine - "Hey, I'm meatsuitAMA, I rent out my body for a living. Pass the chips?"
What happens if the renter gets drunk or high?
Don't get me started. I basically wake up in whatever condition they leave me in. This one time, I woke up on a bed made of candy wrappers and empty bottles. My head is pounding, and I'm pretty sure I can still taste tequila. The renter had a full-on party, got sloshed, and binged on candy.
It wasn’t my best wake-up call, I’ll tell ya that much. Had to down a gallon of water and pop a few aspirins just to stop the world from spinning. And I was finding candy wrappers in my clothes for days after!
Have you ever been rented by someone famous?
Okay, I can’t reveal names ‘cause privacy and all that jazz, but holy crap, yes! And it was wild! Woke up in this swanky hotel suite, there's room service on the table, and I'm wearing designer gear head to toe. Even found a selfie with a major celeb on my phone. They were on a secret vacation or something. Crazy, right?
What about romantic stuff? Ever wake up with a partner next to you?
Sure, it's happened. I woke up once cuddling another sleeping lady, and I was wearing this cute red dress pulled up around my waist. There were rose petals everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. Took me hours to clean up. Turns out the renter had a long-distance relationship, wanted to surprise their partner. Sweet, but talk about awkward for me!
Have you ever woken up eating something really weird?
Haha, well, get ready for this. Once, I woke up in a chilli eating competition. I kid you not, I was in the middle of chewing this nuclear-level hot chilli. My eyes were watering, my throat was burning, and I was sweating like I just ran a marathon. My lips were stained a bright red from the chilli, and I could feel the heat radiating off my tongue, my entire mouth felt like it was on fire.
I was wearing this ridiculous chilli-shaped hat and a bib with "Chilli Queen" printed on it. It took every ounce of my control not to spit out the chilli right then and there. With tears streaming down my face, I somehow managed to swallow the damn thing, then proceeded to drink about a gallon of milk straight from the jug.
Let's just say, the after-effects were...not pleasant. And that's the last time I ever want to be part of a chilli eating competition!
Do people ever rent you for physical labor or things like that?
It happens sometimes. I hadn’t thought it would ahead of time – who would want *my* body to do manual labour, I can lift like, two bricks on a good day. But it turns out there’s so few bodies available at any given time, sometimes there are shortages, and they just want more hands on site.
Once I woke up in a construction site wearing those baggy, heavy duty work clothes, you know the kind, and a hard hat. There were smudges of dirt on my hands and face, and my muscles ached like I'd been lifting weights all day. The work gloves were still on my hands, and I could feel the rough material chafing against my skin. The boots were a bit too large for my feet, and I had to be careful not to trip over anything.
Apparently, the renter was a contractor from the other side of the country. The agency assures me that they ensure safety measures for such rentals, but I still found it a bit weird. But hey, I guess it’s a way for people to get their work done :/.
What are the most common reasons people rent your body?
Good question! It's a mixed bag, honestly. Sometimes it's for the experience of being a petite woman, which is kinda weird but hey, to each their own. Other times they want to use me like a canvas. I woke up once in a room filled with wigs and makeup. I was wearing this professional grade makeup, you know, the kind you see on models during fashion week.
I’m talking glittery eye shadow that matched the exact color of my eyes, perfectly applied red lipstick that made my lips look fuller, and a rosy blush that gave my cheeks a healthy glow. The fake eyelashes were a bit annoying though. Every blink felt heavy, and my eyes were watering a bit from the glue.
I later found out that the renter was a makeup artist. They had used my face as a canvas to practice new makeup techniques. I gotta say, it felt pretty cool walking around looking like I stepped straight out of a beauty magazine.
Other people might rent me to explore the city, like for travel and tourism things. Sometimes I'm rented for people to go to meetings or hangouts long distance. Occasionally it seems to be just a sex thing -- girls (or even guys, idk) renting me to have fun on the town -- which I'm less keen on, but as long as they take it easy.
I let people rent my meatsuit (and I can’t remember it) AMA
Hi there! I'm a 23-year-old woman, renting out my body to pay for medical school. I work with an agency that uses neuralink implants to let my renters see through my eyes, control my actions, and essentially live in my skin while I'm unconscious. Once their session is over, I wake up without any recollection of what they've done. It's like I was asleep or in a coma, but meanwhile my body was up and about doing things. The industry calls us 'bodies for rent' or 'meatsuits', though some of us prefer to be known as 'surrogates'.
It sounds scary, but it's completely safe, regulated, and - dare I say it - kinda fun. Let's get into all the gritty realities of the renting industry. Ask me anything!
How does it feel when you wake up after being 'rented'? Any physical fatigue?
Great question! It's a bit like waking up from a deep sleep. There's a period of disorientation, but that clears up quickly. As for physical fatigue, it depends on what my body has been doing. If my renter had been doing strenuous activities, then yes, I might feel a little worn out.
Aren't you afraid that someone might misuse your body?
That's a common concern, but the industry has safeguards in place. Renters sign contracts agreeing not to harm the body or engage in illegal activities. Plus, there's constant monitoring by a neutral third party during the rental period. If anything suspicious happens, they can shut down the session.
How much can you make in this business?
It varies depending on factors like the duration of the session, what the renter plans to do, and even the desirability of the surrogate. I make a comfortable amount, enough to pay my medical school tuition and living expenses.
Can you sense anything while being rented? Any kind of dreams?
Not at all. It's like being in a very deep sleep, without dreams. I wake up completely blank, with no memory or sensation from the rental period.
Do people ever have sex or masturbate when they rent you?
Yes, of course, it’s part of the job. I basically expect more often than not to have the renter touch me. It’s not as bad as it sounds – it’s basically my hand doing it, after all. Sometimes I feel a little sore after – especially when I’m rented by guys, who tend to be a bit less gentle with my body – but nothing serious.
Do your friends and family know about this? How do they feel?
Yes, they know, and it took some time for them to understand. They were concerned at first, but they've seen how regulated and safe it is, and how it's helping me achieve my dream of becoming a doctor. So, they're supportive now!
How did you get into this business?
I stumbled upon an advertisement and was intrigued. I did my research, understood the risks and benefits, and decided it was a viable way to finance my medical studies. And here I am!
Any advice for someone considering becoming a surrogate?
Do your homework. Understand the pros and cons. Consider the physical and mental aspects - remember, your body might be doing things you're not used to. Also, ensure you're working with a reputable company. There are sketchy operators out there.
What was your most memorable experience after waking up from a rental period?
There was this one time when I woke up in a beautiful dress, covered in glitter and glam, standing in the middle of what seemed to be a high-end fashion event. The smooth silk of the dress hugged my body, contrasting starkly against the cold, air-conditioned atmosphere of the venue. The dress was a stunning shade of midnight blue, matching the color of my eyes, and it was sprinkled with silver glitters, twinkling as they caught the spotlights. High heels elongated my petite frame, although they made my feet ache a bit. People were clapping and cheering, and I had this feeling of exhilaration that lingered even after the confusion had passed.
The aroma of rich perfume and champagne wafted through the air, and my lips tasted faintly of a delicate canapé. My hands were a little shaky from the adrenaline, and I felt the cool touch of a glass of bubbly in my right hand. I could tell by the appreciative eyes and stunned silence that my renter had just pulled off a fantastic runway walk.
I felt strangely empowered, stepping out of my usual comfort zone of t-shirts, jeans, and tennis shoes, into this glamorous world of fashion, something I'd never dare to do on my own. The moment felt almost surreal, like a scene straight out of a movie. I loved the feeling of confidence, of owning the room. Even though it wasn't me who had strutted down the catwalk, a small part of that boldness lingered, reminding me of my own potential.
Have you ever felt violated or uneasy after a rental session?
Yes, there have been moments of discomfort. One time, I woke up in a very crowded place, in the middle of a music festival. I’m a bit of an introvert, so waking up in such a noisy, chaotic environment was quite jarring. My body was adorned in a loose crop top, denim shorts, and a floral headband – typical festival attire, but it felt strange since I usually prefer more conservative clothing. My hair, normally tied up in a neat bun, was let loose and felt messy with dried sweat and probably some beer someone had spilled.
I could still feel the throb of the loud music in my ears, the vibrations settling into my body, like a low hum beneath my skin. My feet ached from dancing, my throat was parched, and there was a residual taste of beer and cheap festival food on my tongue. My hands were stained with neon paint, evidence of the craziness of the night. The faint smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke clung to my skin, making me feel a bit dirty.
I remember feeling lost and out of place among the sea of enthusiastic festival-goers. Although the monitors had ended the rental as soon as I started to regain consciousness, the sudden shift from unconscious tranquility to overwhelming sensory stimulation was a shock. I felt a twinge of unease, realizing how vulnerable I was during these rentals, but it also reminded me of the importance of trust in this profession.
Have you ever considered renting out your body for more extended periods, like a week or a month?
I've given it some thought, but there are practical and emotional challenges to consider. Physically, the neuralink is designed for shorter periods – up to 24 hours. So, waking up in the same clothes I wore a day ago is common, sometimes with minor changes like a different pair of shoes or an added accessory. My body, toned from regular exercise and yoga, would handle the physical strain quite well, but there is a limit to how long the technology can keep my consciousness suppressed. The device needs to be recharged, and my body needs rest and rejuvenation.
Emotionally, there's a strange intimacy in sharing my body for such extended periods. Every time I wake up after a rental, it's as though a veil is lifted from my eyes. There's a brief moment of disorientation, like a foggy morning, where I'm not quite sure where I am or what has happened. My fingers would glide over the fabric of my clothes, tracing the alien feel of a shirt or a dress that I didn’t remember putting on. There's a rush of sensations, the leftover smells of where my renter has been, the lingering tastes on my tongue, and the physical echoes of their activities.
Imagine that feeling extended for a week or a month. Imagine the shift in my daily routines, my eating habits, and my social interactions. My body would live a life that my mind wasn't a part of. As it stands, the rental periods are already a leap of faith, a testament to my trust in the technology, the system, and the people who rent me. Prolonging the rental period only escalates the implications.
However, the notion isn't without its appeal. I could potentially earn more, and it might provide a unique opportunity for me to experience different lives. But for now, the constraints outweigh the benefits. I've chosen to prioritize my sense of self, my personal boundaries, and the preservation of my own life experiences.
Do you have any plans for after medical school? Will you continue to be a surrogate?
Once I'm done with medical school, I plan to specialize in neurology. Being a surrogate has given me an intriguing perspective on how our brain functions and how advanced technology like neuralink can integrate with it. I'm eager to dive deeper, to understand the complex mysteries of our brains. My body, though petite and young, has become a fascinating landscape for my academic curiosity. Each pulse in my veins, every breath I take, has become a testament to the marvels of human biology and technology intertwined.
As for continuing as a surrogate, it's unlikely. Once I start my practice, my focus will be on my patients. I won’t have the time, or the emotional bandwidth, to lend my body to others. Plus, there's a certain comfort in the idea of regaining exclusive ownership of my body. To wake up in my bed, in my clothes, knowing that whatever memories I have from the previous day are my own, sounds incredibly comforting after a few years of sharing it with people.
There's a strange satisfaction in being a surrogate. It's not just about the money, although that's a significant factor. It's about providing a service, allowing people to experience life from a different perspective. There's a sense of pride, of fulfillment, in knowing that my body can help fulfill someone else's dream or desire, even if I don't remember any of it. So, while I look forward to focusing on my medical career, I'll always cherish the experiences and insights I've gained as a surrogate.
Ever stumbled upon photos or videos of yourself from a rental session you don't remember?
Yes, it's happened on more than one occasion. There's something strangely unnerving about seeing photos or videos of yourself in action, knowing that you don’t remember a single moment of it.
The first time this happened, I was scrolling through social media when I found a picture of myself at a charity marathon. My usually fair complexion was flushed with exertion, sweat glinting on my forehead, my blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, strands sticking to my moist skin. The tight runner’s outfit clung to my petite frame, accentuating my toned muscles, highlighting my runner's posture. In the photo, I was crossing the finish line, arms in the air, a picture of triumph and satisfaction.
Seeing myself there, the exuberance on my face, the sheer exhilaration in my wide, bright eyes was surreal. It felt like looking at a doppelganger or a twin, someone who shared my body, my face, but lived experiences that I didn’t remember. It was as if this 'other me' had successfully completed a marathon, something I'd never done. It was a bizarre mixture of pride and confusion, seeing a triumphant moment that I had no recollection of.
There were a few other times that it happened – one in particular was pretty creepy – but there’s no rule against it right now, so, you know.
Have you ever confronted a renter about the things they've done while renting your body?
I’ve never directly confronted a renter, but there have been times when I've requested the agency to talk to them. Once, I found a video of myself eating a tarantula at a food festival. My stomach churned as I watched 'me' in the video, sporting a wide grin, taking a big bite of the deep-fried spider, savoring the crunch with evident delight.
I remembered feeling a bizarre disconnect as I watched my own fingers delicately holding the spider, the crunch echoing in my ears as I bit down, the sound so vivid, it felt real. My heart pounded as my face on the screen twisted into an expression of joy and satisfaction, my blue eyes twinkling with daring and adventure. The image haunted me, even when I had closed my eyes, the back of my eyelids mirroring the ghastly sight. The discomfort was so intense that I had to reach out to the agency, reminding them of my arachnophobia and the importance of renters respecting the surrogate's personal boundaries.
The process was quite straightforward, actually. The agency assured me they would remind the renter of the rules. The interesting (and perhaps, unnerving) part of this whole situation was the realization of how much control I had surrendered. While I was tucked safely away in the realm of unconsciousness, my body was out there, in the world, engaging in activities I’d never imagine doing in a conscious state. It brought up a mix of feelings – a tad of unease, a hint of exhilaration, and an odd sense of curiosity about what my body is capable of when untethered from my conscious mind.
It was unsettling to find a video of myself doing something that was so contradictory to my personality. Yet, it was also an opportunity for me to face my fear, albeit in a roundabout way. It didn't cure my arachnophobia, but it did make me question how much of our fears are mental barriers. It was like staring at a reflection of what I could potentially be, unbound by personal fears or biases. And in a twisted way, it was liberating.
Although I don’t wish for a repeat of such experiences, these instances have pushed me to reflect on myself and consider my perceptions. They've nudged me out of my comfort zone and made me realize the extraordinary adaptability of the human mind and body. And for that, I am oddly grateful.
Have you ever found provocative photos of yourself from a rental session? How did you react?
Yes, I have. One incident that particularly stands out was when I stumbled upon a series of photos of me dressed as a 'catgirl' at what seemed to be a cosplay event.
In these images, I was dressed in a black, form-fitting bodysuit that hugged my petite figure, accentuating my curves. Ears pointed upwards were attached to a headband on my blonde hair, which was styled into playful, loose curls. A long, fluffy tail was clipped onto the back of the bodysuit, and a mischievous smirk played on my face. My eyes were highlighted with dramatic, catlike makeup, and I had a delicate, diamond-shaped nose and whiskers painted on. Completing the look were long, black gloves and boots, adding a certain allure to the whole ensemble.
Seeing myself in this provocative outfit was an unnerving experience. I've always been more of a modest dresser, preferring comfort and functionality over fashion or trends. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked at the photos. My cheeks, usually fair, turned a deep shade of red, my body reacting to the shock and embarrassment even though my mind was still trying to process what it was seeing.
Despite the initial shock, I had to admire the artistry involved. The attention to detail in the costume and makeup was impeccable. My body looked confident, empowered, even seductive - a stark contrast to my usual demeanor. There was an undeniable beauty in the images that I couldn't ignore, a transformation so complete that it was hard to believe it was me.
Although this incident did make me feel uncomfortable, it also forced me to confront my own perceptions of my body and my sexuality. It showed me a version of myself that I had never considered before, pushing me to reassess my boundaries and my comfort zones.
These photos served as a reminder of how diverse and varied human experiences can be, and how our bodies can be a canvas for different forms of expression. It wasn't an easy experience, but it was a learning opportunity for me. Since then, I've become more open-minded, learning to embrace the unexpected and finding beauty in all forms of self-expression.
What's the most bizarre situation you've found yourself in after a rental session?
One of the most bizarre situations I've woken up to was when I found myself at a beach party, covered in chocolate, and wearing a bikini.
The moment my consciousness resurfaced, I was greeted by the smell of salt and sunscreen, underscored by the sweet scent of melted chocolate. My skin felt sticky, and as I glanced down, I saw my petite body donned in a vibrant red bikini, smothered with chocolate sauce. The droplets were scattered like modern art across the soft, fair skin of my abdomen, my arms, and even my legs. The sunlight glinted off the slick coating, giving me an oddly shiny appearance.
Around me, people were laughing and cheering, music blaring from nearby speakers. The party seemed to be in full swing, the beach lined with young people engaged in various activities - some were playing beach volleyball, others were tanning, sipping cocktails, or dancing to the lively music. A makeshift stage had been set up nearby, and it seemed like I had just participated in a chocolate-themed competition.
The sandy grit beneath my feet, the comforting warmth of the sun on my chocolate-covered skin, the riotous noise of the party, all contributed to a sensory overload. But amidst the chaos, there was also an underlying feeling of exhilaration and freedom, a giddy aftertaste of what seemed to have been a wild and enjoyable event.
Despite the initial shock, a part of me couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. There was something incredibly surreal and yet comically charming about it. Extracting myself from the party, I made my way towards the sea, intending to wash off the chocolate and to reclaim a sense of normalcy. As the cool waves lapped against my legs, I remember feeling a renewed sense of appreciation for my unusual job. While it occasionally landed me in sticky situations (quite literally in this case), it also made for some truly unforgettable experiences.
Have you ever found photos taken by a renter afterwards, anything embarrassing?
Oh, you have no idea. There was this one time when I woke up to find a series of pictures on my phone that left me both amused and perplexed.
The first photo showed me in a bright yellow chicken costume. My usually petite and slender figure was enveloped in a fluffy, oversized suit, complete with a red plume on top. My face, usually serene or focused, was contorted into a comical squawk, my mouth wide open, my eyes squeezed shut in exaggerated expression.
Next, I found a picture of myself wearing a pair of oversized glasses, their frames so large they covered half my face, my blue eyes appearing comically magnified. A fluorescent green wig was placed haphazardly on my head, strands of synthetic hair falling over my forehead. My lips were stretched into a goofy grin, my cheeks dimpled with laughter.
The photo parade continued with me donning an array of humorous costumes – a pirate with a plastic hook, a faux fur-lined onesie of a unicorn, a clown with a red nose and oversized shoes. In each photo, I was making different faces - there was a mock-scared expression, a wide-eyed surprise, a faux-angry scowl, and many more.
A couple got a little bit more lewd. There were a few, um, revealing selfies in the mix – one where they’d stuck my tongue out and rolled my eyes back in a pretty stupid looking way. And one really embarrassing one where they were basically naked and cupping my boobs for the camera. I did have a word with the agency after that one – the renters aren’t meant to do that.
Does your body ever feel different when you return to it? Like, sore, worn out, used differently?
Absolutely, my body often feels different when I return to it after a rental session. It’s almost like getting reacquainted with a familiar yet slightly altered space.
One instance that particularly stands out was after a renter who was evidently a dance enthusiast had used my body. I woke up in a dance studio, my reflection mirrored in the wall-length mirror. My petite frame was dressed in a flowing, practice skirt and a snug-fitting top. My blonde hair, usually worn down, was pulled up into a tight, professional bun.
When I moved, I felt a certain soreness in my muscles that I wasn’t used to. It was clear that my body had been stretching and moving in ways that were unfamiliar. My calves throbbed slightly, hinting at an intense session of pointe work. My shoulders and back felt looser, likely the result of expressive modern dance movements.
Despite the soreness, there was also an underlying sense of satisfaction. I could tell that my body had been put through a substantial, yet enjoyable workout. As I moved, I could feel a fluidity in my motions, a rhythm that seemed to resonate in my muscles. It was as if my body had picked up a faint echo of the dance, a lingering melody imprinted in the way I moved.
In these moments, my body sometimes feels like an instrument that has been played beautifully and then set aside. There’s a feeling of having been ‘used’ – not in a negative sense, but in the way that a well-loved book is used, its pages turned carefully, its spine bearing the imprints of a reader's hands. There’s a sense of having been part of someone else’s story, even if just for a while.
So wait, you wake up in random positions after each session? What happens if you don't know how to get home after, haha
Haha, yes, I do wake up in different places following a rental session, but it's not as chaotic as it sounds.
Renters are required to ensure I'm in a safe environment before the rental period ends. This rule is strictly enforced by the agency, ensuring that I don't wake up in dangerous or compromising situations. The location can be anywhere - a park, a café, a shopping mall, even a dance studio, as I mentioned in an earlier response. But whatever the location, safety is paramount.
As for getting back home, that's rarely been a problem. My phone is always with me, and it has all the necessary apps and information for navigation. Plus, we live in an era where rideshares are just a few taps away.
However, there was this one time when I woke up in a botanical garden. It was early evening, the setting sun casting long, golden shadows around me. I was seated on a park bench, amidst a riot of colorful flowers and lush greenery. A gentle breeze was playing with my blonde curls, carrying the scent of earth and blooming roses. The tranquillity of the scene was almost meditative.
Despite not immediately recognizing the place, a quick check on my phone showed it to be within the city limits. Instead of rushing home, I decided to take my time exploring the garden, reveling in the unexpected treat. It was a refreshing change of pace from my usual, fast-paced life. Moments like these make the unpredictable nature of my work not just tolerable, but sometimes surprisingly rewarding.
Do people ever... you know... need to use the toilet when you're being rented?
That's a part of the reality not often talked about, isn't it? Yes, biological needs don't stop during a rental session. The human body, including mine, continues to function as usual - this includes needing to use the toilet.
However, I must assure you that the agency has regulations in place to ensure that renters deal with such situations appropriately. Before a rental session, every renter is thoroughly briefed about treating the body with respect and maintaining personal hygiene.
The first time I woke up in a restroom, I must admit it was a bit disconcerting. I was in a posh restaurant's restroom, staring at my reflection in a tastefully framed mirror. My body was dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress, my blonde hair swept into an intricate updo. My usually bare face had a dash of makeup - a subtle smoky eye and a soft pink lip color.
What startled me was not the environment, but the stark realisation of the intimacy that the rental process implied. In that moment I understood that my renters weren't just walking in my shoes; they were living in my skin. It brought a level of humility and vulnerability that took me a while to get used to.
Over time, however, I've come to terms with it. It's a part of the job, as mundane as it might sound. And it underscores the fact that even when dressed up for an elegant evening out, the human body has its fundamental needs that don't pause for anyone, renter or otherwise. It's a humbling reminder of our shared biology, stripping away the glamour and bringing us down to the basics of existence.
Wait, you woke up in a restroom? Why did they take your body somewhere else before dismounting? Did something go wrong?
It's an interesting question, and to be honest, each rental experience can be quite unique, including where I regain consciousness.
In the case of the restroom scenario, nothing actually went wrong. Renters are advised to ensure I'm in a safe and private location before the rental period ends. In this particular case, I suspect the renter wanted to ensure privacy at the moment of dismounting, which is why they chose a restroom – I suppose they didn’t want to waste their rental minutes walking back through the city.
When I regained consciousness, I was in the ladies' room. Despite the initial disorientation, the transition was smooth. I was safe, and as per the regulations, my dignity and privacy were maintained.
In such circumstances, it's vital to maintain composure and confidence, which is something I've learned with experience. While it can feel strange to navigate these post-rental situations, it's also a fascinating exploration of human behavior and norms. It's like jumping into the middle of a movie and trying to figure out the plot. And in a strange way, that's part of the appeal for me. It keeps life interesting.
What happens to the renter's bodies while they control yours?
While the renters are controlling my body, their own bodies are in a state of neural stasis, almost akin to being in a deep sleep or a coma. The Neuralink technology takes over the function of their neural signals, effectively allowing their consciousness to be projected into my body. However, their bodies do require care during this time, which is where the agency comes in.
The agency has a specialized facility where renters' bodies are looked after during the rental period. They're kept in a safe, controlled environment, with continuous monitoring of vital signs to ensure their physical well-being. Medical professionals are always on standby to intervene if any health concerns arise.
I once had the chance to visit this facility. It was a rather surreal experience, seeing rows of bodies lying still, as if in a peaceful sleep. The room was bathed in a soft, soothing light, the air regulated to maintain an optimal temperature. The silence was punctuated by the occasional beep of a heart monitor, lending a rhythmic undertone to the tranquility.
It felt oddly serene, each body representing a person exploring the world in a different form. I remember standing there, thinking about the paradox of the situation - the quiet, unmoving bodies and the vibrant, active minds experiencing life through rented bodies.
This level of care gives me peace of mind, knowing that my renters are taken care of while they're renting my body. It also underscores the mutual trust inherent in this process - while they trust me with their consciousness, I trust them with my body, all the while knowing that we both are in safe hands.
I couldn't imagine doing that work. What if someone made you do something illegal! Or creepy!
While there are thorough safeguards in place to prevent misuse of the rental service, there was one instance that gave me quite a bit of a scare. It's an interesting story about a renter who got too attached to the rental experience and crossed some boundaries.
This individual, let's call him John, had rented my body a few times, and initially, everything seemed fine. However, over time, his behavior started to become problematic. He began requesting my body more frequently, and started leaving me in places that were meaningful to him - his favorite coffee shop, the park where he used to play as a child, and once even outside his apartment.
It was disorienting and unnerving to say the least. Waking up outside John's apartment was particularly alarming. It was late at night, and the street was bathed in the harsh, white glow of the streetlights. I was dressed in casual jeans and a t-shirt, my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. The quiet, residential area felt foreign and eerily silent, the only sound being the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.
I started receiving messages from John too, filled with sentiments that were too intimate, too personal. It was as if he was confusing me with someone he knew closely or someone he wished to be close with. The messages made me uncomfortable, their tone straying from friendly to obsessive.
Then he began sending me photographs - selfies he had taken while renting my body. In each of these images, my body was in various scenarios, some casual, others more intimate.
One of the first pictures was of 'me' at his favorite coffee shop, sipping on a caramel latte. The backdrop was familiar to me - the vintage posters on the wall, the warm, wooden interior of the café. My body was casually dressed, a cozy sweater hugging my petite frame, my blonde hair tumbling over my shoulders. It was as if he had taken me on a casual, coffee date.
At first, I found it a bit amusing, even endearing. Here was a man so taken by the experience of renting my body that he wanted to share his moments with me. It was a new angle to the renting experience that I hadn't considered before - the renter wanting to connect on a more personal level.
As more photographs followed, the tone of them started to change. There was one where 'I' was standing on the edge of a rooftop, the city lights glittering in the background. My body, clad in a fitting leather jacket and ripped jeans, seemed to emanate an air of recklessness that was not me. It was unnerving, a stark contrast to the earlier, cozy coffee shop picture.
Some photos of my feet came next, which was kind of odd, and then my own face making a kissy face at the camera. Ugh. Then came the intimate ones - a picture of 'me' lounging on a bed, dressed in a silk nightgown, a soft smile playing on 'my' lips. The familiarity of the scenario, coupled with the knowledge that it wasn't truly me, left me with an uncomfortable feeling, a breach of privacy that was hard to ignore.
That's when it dawned on me that this was more than just a renter enjoying his experiences - it was veering into an obsessive territory. I could see John blurring the lines between the rented experience and real connection, transforming the relationship into something it was not supposed to be.
Things took a turn for the more disturbing when I received a video from John.
I remember when the notification popped up on my phone, it was late at night, and I was just wrapping up some study session. Intrigued and admittedly a little apprehensive, I clicked on the message.
The video was a selfie, but not just any selfie – it was John, renting my body, talking directly into the camera. He’s dressed me in a guy’s business shirt, boxers, and nothing else. The shirt was unbuttoned, and you could see my bare breasts underneath, pretty much totally exposed.
He was sat *outside* on a park bench, legs spread, leaning back with a smirk. He winked at the camera, a mischievous glint in his eyes, before launching into a monologue. The topics were all over the place - he shared his thoughts on books he liked, mused about our supposed 'connection', even hinted at plans he had for future rentals. His gestures were expressive, my hands moving animatedly as he spoke, the sunlight bouncing off the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. The watch was his, I’d never seen it before.
Throughout the video, he wore a knowing smile that was a clear departure from my typical expressions. It was chillingly intimate, uncomfortably personal. Here was a man who seemed to be under the delusion that he was developing a personal, almost romantic relationship with me, despite the starkly impersonal nature of our interaction.
Watching that video, it became clear to me that I needed to act. His delusions, his growing obsession was not just disturbing but potentially dangerous. It was then that I decided to report him to the agency. Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, I take solace in knowing that the system worked as it should, ensuring safety and enforcing boundaries when necessary. It served as a stark reminder of the potential risks and oddities I might face in my unique line of work.
Do renters take care of you? Like, do they eat properly? Exercise?
While renters are usually respectful, it's important to remember that for them, renting a body is often seen as a kind of vacation or escape from their own lives. As such, they might not stick to the same kind of diet and exercise routines I typically do.
There have been times when I've woken up to the remnants of a food binge - empty pizza boxes, chocolate wrappers, ice cream tubs - the works. It's amusing in a way, a clear indication of the renter letting loose and enjoying their 'time off'. I've found myself in the middle of a carnival, the sweet scent of cotton candy lingering on my tongue, or sometimes at an upscale restaurant, the remnants of a steak dinner still on the plate.
Exercise, unfortunately, doesn't seem to be a priority for most renters. Understandably, hitting the gym or going for a run might not be their idea of a fun time while renting someone else's body. As a result, I have to put in the extra work to maintain my fitness and health.
It's an interesting trade-off - I get to pay for medical school, and they get to take a break from their own lives, diets, and routines. It does add an extra layer of challenge to my life, but it's one I've grown accustomed to. I've learned to appreciate the workout sessions, the way my muscles ache after a good run or the soothing burn of a yoga routine. It's a part of my life that's wholly mine, a piece of routine and normalcy amidst the chaotic nature of my job.
At the end of the day, it's about understanding and accepting that my body is shared space. I do my best to provide a fit, healthy body for my renters to use, and in return, they give me the means to chase my dreams.
Hey meatsuitAMA, ever woke up with a badass tattoo that you didn't remember getting?
Ha! Luckily, no! The agency's pretty strict about that stuff - no permanent changes to the body, and that includes tattoos. Although, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about what kind of ink a renter might choose.
Do you ever feel like you're missing out on your own life?
Damn, you're getting deep on me, aren't ya? It's a trip, no doubt. I mean, one minute I'm me, next I'm catching up on the shenanigans some renter got up to. But hey, at least I'm missing out on my life for a good cause, right? And who knows, maybe one day I'll wake up with a Nobel Prize because some renter used my body to solve quantum physics or something!
So, what if a renter decides to go skydiving or bungee jumping?
Well, they're supposed to stick to a set of ground rules, and extreme sports is a big no-no. But honestly? If someone secretly went skydiving with my body, I'd be pissed I missed out on the thrill! But for real, don't do that, future renters. I don't want my heart giving out at 22.
Are you ever scared of not getting your body back?
Haha, you know how to keep a girl up at night. But no, the tech's solid, and I trust the agency. But you bet your ass I've had some nightmares about that. If my body goes on a world tour without me, I better at least get a postcard.
Do your friends or family know about your job?
Well, mom knows, and she wasn't thrilled, let me tell ya. Tried to get me to consider waitressing or something. But my pals think it's pretty cool. And it's one hell of an ice breaker at parties. Imagine - "Hey, I'm meatsuitAMA, I rent out my body for a living. Pass the chips?"
What happens if the renter gets drunk or high?
Don't get me started. I basically wake up in whatever condition they leave me in. This one time, I woke up on a bed made of candy wrappers and empty bottles. My head is pounding, and I'm pretty sure I can still taste tequila. The renter had a full-on party, got sloshed, and binged on candy.
It wasn’t my best wake-up call, I’ll tell ya that much. Had to down a gallon of water and pop a few aspirins just to stop the world from spinning. And I was finding candy wrappers in my clothes for days after!
Have you ever been rented by someone famous?
Okay, I can’t reveal names ‘cause privacy and all that jazz, but holy crap, yes! And it was wild! Woke up in this swanky hotel suite, there's room service on the table, and I'm wearing designer gear head to toe. Even found a selfie with a major celeb on my phone. They were on a secret vacation or something. Crazy, right?
What about romantic stuff? Ever wake up with a partner next to you?
Sure, it's happened. I woke up once cuddling another sleeping lady, and I was wearing this cute red dress pulled up around my waist. There were rose petals everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. Took me hours to clean up. Turns out the renter had a long-distance relationship, wanted to surprise their partner. Sweet, but talk about awkward for me!
Have you ever woken up eating something really weird?
Haha, well, get ready for this. Once, I woke up in a chilli eating competition. I kid you not, I was in the middle of chewing this nuclear-level hot chilli. My eyes were watering, my throat was burning, and I was sweating like I just ran a marathon. My lips were stained a bright red from the chilli, and I could feel the heat radiating off my tongue, my entire mouth felt like it was on fire.
I was wearing this ridiculous chilli-shaped hat and a bib with "Chilli Queen" printed on it. It took every ounce of my control not to spit out the chilli right then and there. With tears streaming down my face, I somehow managed to swallow the damn thing, then proceeded to drink about a gallon of milk straight from the jug.
Let's just say, the after-effects were...not pleasant. And that's the last time I ever want to be part of a chilli eating competition!
Do people ever rent you for physical labor or things like that?
It happens sometimes. I hadn’t thought it would ahead of time – who would want *my* body to do manual labour, I can lift like, two bricks on a good day. But it turns out there’s so few bodies available at any given time, sometimes there are shortages, and they just want more hands on site.
Once I woke up in a construction site wearing those baggy, heavy duty work clothes, you know the kind, and a hard hat. There were smudges of dirt on my hands and face, and my muscles ached like I'd been lifting weights all day. The work gloves were still on my hands, and I could feel the rough material chafing against my skin. The boots were a bit too large for my feet, and I had to be careful not to trip over anything.
Apparently, the renter was a contractor from the other side of the country. The agency assures me that they ensure safety measures for such rentals, but I still found it a bit weird. But hey, I guess it’s a way for people to get their work done :/.
What are the most common reasons people rent your body?
Good question! It's a mixed bag, honestly. Sometimes it's for the experience of being a petite woman, which is kinda weird but hey, to each their own. Other times they want to use me like a canvas. I woke up once in a room filled with wigs and makeup. I was wearing this professional grade makeup, you know, the kind you see on models during fashion week.
I’m talking glittery eye shadow that matched the exact color of my eyes, perfectly applied red lipstick that made my lips look fuller, and a rosy blush that gave my cheeks a healthy glow. The fake eyelashes were a bit annoying though. Every blink felt heavy, and my eyes were watering a bit from the glue.
I later found out that the renter was a makeup artist. They had used my face as a canvas to practice new makeup techniques. I gotta say, it felt pretty cool walking around looking like I stepped straight out of a beauty magazine.
Other people might rent me to explore the city, like for travel and tourism things. Sometimes I'm rented for people to go to meetings or hangouts long distance. Occasionally it seems to be just a sex thing -- girls (or even guys, idk) renting me to have fun on the town -- which I'm less keen on, but as long as they take it easy.
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Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity. Ask me anything!
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
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Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
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What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
Hey /r/newyoubodyswap! As the title suggests, I am a 23-year-old woman who just a few months ago, was living life as a 27-year-old man. This transformation has been made possible by the NewYou body swap service. The platform leverages neuralink technology to let transgender individuals experience life in a body that aligns with their gender identity.
To put it simply, NewYou essentially bridges two bodies, transmitting sensations and motor commands between the two neuralink implants. It's a form of technological telepathy, I suppose, which allows each of us to live within the other's body.
I took the plunge a couple of months ago, opting to swap bodies with a wonderful trans man who was seeking the same sense of alignment that I was. After several medical and psychological assessments, we both decided to proceed, undergoing the surgical procedure to have the neuralink implants put in place. We then began the process of acclimating to our new bodies.
It's been a surreal, challenging, and ultimately rewarding experience. I am living life as a woman now, something I had yearned for, for as long as I can remember. This service has allowed me to be me, fully and unabashedly.
Now, I know a lot of you may have questions about this process and what it’s like living in a different body. I'm here, ready and willing to share my experience, hoping it may be helpful to those who are considering a similar journey. AMA!
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Could you tell us about the differences between your new body and old one?
Absolutely, I'd be happy to elaborate. The differences are quite stark, both physically and emotionally.
Physically, the changes are noticeable in every aspect. My new body is shorter and smaller in stature compared to my old one. My skin is softer, and I've noticed the change in my hair texture as well. The body shape is entirely different, featuring curves where there were none before. I'm also getting used to the lack of facial and body hair, which is a pleasant change for me.
The sensory experiences are also very different. I've noticed that smells and tastes seem somewhat amplified, which took some adjusting. Physically, I feel lighter and more agile. The hormonal changes have also affected my emotional state quite a bit. I tend to feel emotions more intensely than before, which has been an enlightening experience.
One thing that took some getting used to was the different strengths. I'm not as physically strong as I used to be, which was a bit of a surprise at first. Even everyday tasks like opening jars or moving furniture took some adjusting.
On the inside, it's hard to explain, but I just feel more aligned, more 'me'. It's like I've been wearing a mask my entire life, and I've finally taken it off. It's truly liberating. And, of course, experiencing life as a woman brings with it a host of societal and cultural differences that I'm still navigating.
Overall, I'm incredibly grateful for this experience. It's been challenging but also so rewarding. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
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It must have been odd to go from what, 6’ to 5’2”?
Absolutely, it took some getting used to for sure! The change in height and proportions was particularly striking, and led to a few amusing (and mildly embarrassing) incidents.
One day, about three weeks after the swap, I was at the supermarket doing some grocery shopping. It was the same store I'd always shopped at, and I was so used to just reaching out and grabbing things from the shelves. I was going about my shopping as usual, when I reached the aisle with canned goods. I saw a can of soup I wanted that was, unfortunately, sitting on the top shelf.
Without thinking much of it, I reached up to grab the can, as I always had. But, to my surprise, my hand found nothing but air. I looked up, perplexed, and realized the top shelf was now well out of my reach.
Standing there, looking at that can of soup like it was the Holy Grail, I felt a little foolish. I glanced around, half-expecting to see people pointing and laughing. Instead, I saw a fellow shopper looking at me with a knowing smile. He was tall, and without a word, he reached up and handed me the can of soup. He simply said, "I got you," and walked away.
I must have stood there, blushing, for a good minute before I finally moved on. The experience was a reality check for me, underscoring just how much my world had changed, literally and figuratively. It was a small, somewhat silly moment, but it was significant in helping me realize the ways in which I would have to adapt to my new body and its capabilities.
So yes, while it's been an adjustment, these little moments have also made me appreciate my new reality in ways I hadn't anticipated. It's a learning experience, and I'm enjoying the journey.
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What's it like to have guys hit on you now?
Oh man, that’s a whole different ball game! I've had my share of cringe-worthy moments, believe me.
The first time it happened, I was at a café, minding my own business, when this dude walked over. He starts off with, "Are you a magician? Because whenever I look at you, everyone else disappears." I'm not gonna lie, I thought he was trying to sell me something at first, so I just blinked at him and then looked around like I was trying to find the hidden cameras. It was only when he sat down that it clicked, and I was like, "Oh...oh!"
Honestly, it's a bit weird. Like, I appreciate a good compliment as much as the next person, but the over-the-top, cheesy pick-up lines? Those are something else. And then there's the whole etiquette around who pays for meals, holding doors open, all that stuff. It's like learning a whole new social dance.
Don't get me wrong, though, there's a certain charm to it too. The little kindnesses, when genuine, can be very sweet. And I’ve had a lot of fun gently letting down the ones who just don’t get the hint.
But yeah, it’s definitely a new and sometimes awkward experience. I’m still getting the hang of it. So, to all the guys out there, remember: cheese is great on pizza, not so much in your pick-up lines! ;)
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Does everybody know you used to be a dude, or are you kind of stealth?
That's a great question. The truth is, it's a bit of both. My close friends and family, of course, are all aware of my transition. They've been wonderfully supportive and understanding throughout this whole process. As for everyone else, it really depends on the situation and the person.
I do want to clarify that using terms like 'used to be a dude' can be a little oversimplified for many of us in the trans community. While I understand the spirit of the question, I like to think of it as 'I've always been a woman, but I was in a male body before.' Language matters, as it helps shape our understanding and attitudes!
Back to your question, though: in casual interactions, I don't generally bring it up unless it's relevant or I feel comfortable enough to share. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also not the first thing I share about myself.
Online, it's a different story. As you can tell from this AMA, I'm pretty open about my experiences. I believe that sharing these stories can help build understanding and empathy. But I'm also aware that privacy is important, and not every trans person may feel comfortable or safe to be as open.
So yeah, I guess you could say I'm semi-stealth. It's a balancing act, and one that I'm still figuring out as I go along. Like everything else in this process, it's a journey! And one that I’m glad to be on.
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So since it's a neuralink thing, does that mean you're technically still in your original body, and just being sort of broadcast into the new one? Like, if the girl you swapped with got your old body drunk, would it affect you?
So, it's not quite a full upload, more like a continuous live stream of consciousness between the two bodies.
To make it clearer, both my original body and my new one have Neuralink implants. These implants communicate constantly, sending and receiving signals between the two bodies. When I say "I'm in a new body," it's because I'm experiencing all the sensory input and motor control from this female body, all the time. My old body is essentially being piloted remotely in the same way, by my swap partner.
The ‘would I get drunk’ question is a bit harder. I think I would? I’m actually not sure exactly. They did tell us not to do anything like that. All the sensations, including ones like hunger, tiredness, etc, are transferred, so I think the sensation of being drunk would be to – that is, if my original body was drunk, I wouldn’t feel it, but I think the alcohol would still affect my brain processing? Like, the chemicals are still in there, interfering with whatever thoughts the neuralink isn’t adjusting back to baseline me. Just a guess, really.
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What was the first week of being a girl like? I'm thinking about signing up myself, but I'm a bit nervous.
The first week was a whirlwind, no doubt about it. Excitement, confusion, nerves - all mixed into one crazy cocktail. But, I have to say, it's been the best decision I ever made, despite the challenges.
Waking up for the first time in my new body was a surreal experience. Imagine waking up one morning and you're not just in a different bed, but in a different body. I was shorter now, and definitely felt it – I kept bumping into things and everything in my apartment seemed weirdly big. I had to throw out almost all of my clothes too. I kept one big jacket that I loved, but now it hangs practically down to my knees when I wear it haha.
My new body was previously owned by a trans man, so it was initially very masculine in appearance. He'd kept the hair short, and I had hair everywhere else too. Apart from being only 5’2” tall, he was basically passing. It was a strange middle ground, looking down and seeing a female body that was so much more masculine than I'd expected, like the opposite of my own body lol
The first thing I did, once I got over the initial dizziness and giddy disbelief, was to take a long, hard look at myself in the mirror. I remember running my fingers through the short hair, touching my smooth cheeks. I remember flexing my arms and giggling at how tiny they looked. Obvious spent a long time getting used to my boobs and vagina. I loved wearing really tight pants for a while afterwards and looking down and just… flat.
Re-feminizing the body was a process. My skin was different, so my makeup came out basically looking like a clown at first. I was so excited the first time I went shopping in my new body the sales girl didn’t know what to do with me. She kinda gave me a judgemental frown the whole time I was there which honestly I loved. Sounds weird, but it was like, she was judging me like a girl judges a girl? I don’t know if that makes sense.
I was pretty bad to be first tbh. I didn’t know my proportions, and the clothes I tried on were all kind of ill fitting and honestly, way too revealing. But I was revealing in it, you know! I wish I'd taken more pictures.
Working on my physique was another task altogether. I started doing more cardio, less weights, to get a softer, more feminine figure. Seeing the changes week after week was a really powerful motivator. It made the whole experience feel more real, and it was incredibly rewarding to see my reflection in the mirror become more and more the woman I felt inside.
Hope this helps you a bit with your decision. Feel free to ask any other questions you may have. Good luck on your journey, wherever it may lead!
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Did you ever meet your original body again?
I certainly did! It was about two months after the swap, once we had both gotten somewhat used to our new bodies. We had agreed to meet up, both out of curiosity and to see how the other was adjusting. It was one of the strangest and most enlightening experiences of my life.
I remember walking into the café where we'd agreed to meet and seeing him - or rather, seeing my old body, sitting there in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It was bizarre seeing myself from the outside, like watching some kind of strange doppelgänger.
The first thing he said when he saw me was, "Wow, you really went all out, didn't you?" I'd dressed up a bit for the meeting - a tasteful dress, some light makeup, and yes, a pair of modest high heels. I'd even managed to coax my growing hair into a somewhat elegant style.
I'll never forget the look on his face as he took in the changes - a mix of amazement, amusement, and a touch of shock. He laughed and shook his head, saying, "I would have never thought to see this body in heels."
We had a good laugh about that. It was a moment of shared understanding - we'd both lived in these bodies, and we both knew the strange, surreal journey we were on. There was something comforting in that shared experience.
It was also a poignant reminder of the drastic changes we were each making to adapt to our new bodies. For him, it was about embracing the masculine physique he'd always wanted, while for me, it was about bringing out the femininity I'd always felt.
So yes, seeing my old body again was an experience, to say the least. It was strange, funny, and a little bittersweet, but I wouldn't change it for anything. It's all part of this incredible journey I've embarked upon.
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What’s the most unexpected thing about being female?
I'd have to say it's the grip strength. I had been prepared for a lot of the differences, but that one took me by surprise.
It's the weirdest thing, like my hands just don't work the same way they used to. I remember the first time I really noticed it. I was trying to open a jar of pickles and it just... wouldn't budge. I tried and tried, my hand wrapped around the lid, the tiny muscles straining in my forearm. And nothing.
I remember staring at my hand, this delicate, slender thing with neat, short nails. The wrist was thin, the knuckles less pronounced than I remembered. It was like my hand was a doll's hand, dainty and pretty, but lacking the raw strength I was used to.
I won't lie, it was a bit of a blow to my ego. I used to pride myself on my grip strength. I was the jar-opener of the house, the go-to person for stubborn bottle caps. And now, I was staring at this jar of pickles like it was an unsolvable puzzle.
But you know what? After a moment of sulking, I just laughed it off. I found a rubber band, wrapped it around the lid for extra grip, and voila - open jar of pickles.
I guess it's just one of those things you don't really think about until you're in the situation. But, as with everything else in this journey, it's about adapting and overcoming. So now, I keep a rubber band in the kitchen drawer and I've started doing some grip strength exercises.
I might not have the same brute strength I used to have, but I'm learning to navigate this world in a different way. And there's something really empowering about that. It's a daily reminder of the woman I've become, and every time I open a jar, it's a tiny victory. Plus, the pickles taste pretty good too! ;)
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Have you had sex yet? What did it feel like? How was it different?
I have, aha, and it was goooood. I mean, weird, but good. When you’re a guy it’s more concentrated in your dick right? As a girl it’s more spread out, warm and inside. To be honest, I never really liked having sex when I had a male body, so that’s probably part of it, but it was so much more enjoyable as a girl. It’s slower, more difficult to orgasm, but my whole body gets hot and I have a kind of shaky feeling now that I never used to? Also the orgasm itself lasts so much longer than before! It’s like stomach, leg, mind, everything all at once.
The other difference was just being less in control? Like, I had this odd sensation when I was being thrown around and moved about by my boyfriend in a way that I couldn’t have been before, and he really loved teasing me about it – holding me down in ways he couldn’t before, because I used to be bigger than him, haha.
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What was it like choosing your new outfits and things for the first time?
Ah, the first shopping trip. Now that was a trip in more ways than one.
When I first decided to go shopping for new clothes, I was a ball of nerves and excitement. I had this mental checklist of all the feminine clothing items I'd always admired but never had the chance to wear - dresses, skirts, blouses, you name it.
But the biggest revelation was definitely the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes.
As a guy, I had pretty large feet and finding stylish shoes that fit was always a struggle. Now, in my new body, my feet were comparatively tiny. The first time I stepped into a shoe store, I was gobsmacked. All these shoes, in all these styles, and they all actually FIT.
I remember sitting there, a pair of cute flats in one hand and a stylish heel in the other, just marveling at the fact that they were my size. The sleek curves of the heel, the delicate design of the flats - these were things I'd always admired from afar, and now they were mine to wear.
Slipping my foot into a heel for the first time was like stepping into a new world. The way it changed my posture, made me stand taller, the confident click-clack they made on the floor. It felt powerful in a way I hadn't anticipated.
And then came the challenge of walking in them. I won't lie, I was wobbly as a newborn deer at first. But after some practice (and a few hilarious missteps), I started getting the hang of it. Now, I can strut around in those babies like a runway model - well, a runway model on her first day, maybe.
But shoes were just the beginning. Dresses, skirts, jeans that actually fit - it was like stepping into a whole new world of fashion, and I was eager to explore it all. It was a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, and I'm still riding that wave.
As overwhelming as it was at first, I wouldn't trade those moments for anything. Every time I slip into a pair of heels, it's a reminder of how far I've come, and how much further I still have to go on this journey of mine. And let me tell you, I'm excited to see where it takes me. So here's to the road ahead - may it be as fabulous as my shoe collection!
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Do you ever get dressed up and just admire being a woman?
So about a month in, I decided to treat myself. I'd seen this stunning dress in a boutique window - knee-length, black, with a plunging neckline and an open back. It was a bold piece, the kind of thing that demands attention and confidence. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that, but I figured why not? I was embarking on a new life, and I wanted to experience it all.
Trying it on was...an experience. At first, I was a bit self-conscious. I mean, it was more revealing than anything I'd ever worn before. But as I pulled the zipper up and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, something amazing happened.
I saw a woman staring back at me. Not just any woman - but me, as a woman. The dress hugged my curves, accentuated the softness of my new figure. The open back was elegant, daring, and the neckline...well, let's just say it made the most of what I had.
I remember turning this way and that, watching how the fabric shimmered under the lights. I ran a hand down my side, marveling at the softness of my skin, the slender line of my waist. And for the first time since the swap, I felt...well, hot.
I know that sounds vain, but it was an incredible feeling. After years of feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, of not recognizing the person in the mirror, I finally felt at home. I was finally seeing the person I'd always felt I was, inside and out.
I bought the dress right then and there, and wore it out of the boutique. Strutting down the sidewalk, head high, I felt on top of the world. I won't say I didn't get a few stares - but for the first time in my life, I didn't mind. I was proud of who I was, proud of the journey I'd taken to get here.
And that dress? It's still hanging in my closet, a constant reminder of the woman I've become. It's a symbol of my transformation, a testament to my courage, and the best impulse buy I've ever made.
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