In a world where everyone is born female and sex is determined by a childhood lottery, two best friends are seperated to develop differently. Now that they've graduated, they decide to reunite for a camping trip together. They had both dreamed of becoming men, but only one of them saw the dream come true.

In this world everyone is born a girl. Sex is determined by a lottery at the end of grade school. I had a winning ticket, but on the same day as the drawing I started my period, invalidating me for the injection. After graduation I went on a camping trip with my best friend Alex, who took my place in the lottery and recently completed male development. It's our first time together since the day of the drawing. Watching Alex chop the wood for our fire, I was struck by the gulf that had grown between our bodies. As girls we had looked like sisters, we could share clothes even though I was a couple inches taller. Now he towered over me, his muscles rippling with each swing of the axe. My body had grown larger too, but not like his. I'd gained a few inches of height, but most of my development had gone to my hips, my breasts, and my reproductive system. I'd suffered through over a hundred periods since that first awful experience, but I still hated it every single time. All I could think about now was how it should have been me getting the injection, going to boy school, chopping the wood, never worrying about a monthly cycle. Alex paused and looked in my direction. I wondered if he knew what was going through my mind. "Do you want a turn?" He asked, offering me the axe and wiping his brow. "Uh, sure." I said, cautiously stepping up to the stump we'd been using as a chopping block. Alex balanced a round of wood on the stump and backed away. I struggled to lift the axe over my head. "Whoa, careful." Alex chided me, stepping up and guiding my hands. "Here, hold it near the …

We swapped bodies two weeks ago, and I'm discovering it's a lot more difficult living as my dream girl than I'd imagined. Especially when you keep dressing me in lewd outfits and taking advantage at every opportunity. We were supposed to swap back after 24 hours, now I'm worried I could be pregnant! CW: rape, bondage, abuse

It’s been two weeks since we swapped bodies. When you first suggested it I thought it was the sexiest thing imaginable. I jerked off regularly to the pictures you posted online. The idea of being in full control of your body was just too hot to pass up. My brain ran wild with possibilities. The swap was supposed to be a one-day thing, twenty four hours in each other’s bodies. It only got complicated when we tried to swap back and nothing happened. Apparently swapability can be disrupted by unprotected sex. You can’t swap with someone else’s sperm inside you, and you can’t swap if you’re pregnant. I hadn’t been aware of either of those things two weeks ago. I’d been more focused on experiencing my single day as a woman, and one of the things I was most curious about was sex. In retrospect that had been a terrible idea. The guy I hooked up with was awful in bed, he shot his load after two pumps and promptly fell asleep. As underwhelming as it had been, it was enough to lock me into this body, at least for a few days. I really hoped I wasn’t pregnant, but you reassured me it would be okay. You helped me draft letters explaining a medical leave of absence, and bought me a ticket to come stay with you until we could get everything sorted out. Traveling in your body had been my first real taste of what was to come. I tried to dress modestly, but I could feel eyes on me all the same. Guys looking away as soon as I glanced in their direction, and others who brazenly stared on anyway. I stopped for like ten seconds to check the itinerary on my phone and someone grabbed my …

These perfumes can let you live another person's memory, but overexposure can lead to permanent changes.

Smell is the sense most closely linked to memory. I remember reading that somewhere. What I don't understand is how a smell could remind you of someone else's memory.That's what the new perfume shop advertised: smell-able memories. They called them recreational fragrance. I had trouble believing anything like that could work, but I was too curious to write it off.Now I was standing in line outside, waiting with all the other curious people in town. The shop was packed, but everyone leaving looked like they'd just had the time of their lives.Finally I made it to the front of the line, and a friendly sales associate welcomed me in. "Good afternoon sir, have you tried one of our fragrances before?" They asked me, leading me to a wall lined with little glass bottles, each one labelled with a different name in a unique font."No." I said, keeping close so they could hear me through the crowded shop. "I just learned this place exists.""Then you've got to start with a novel sample. Have you ever climbed a mountain?" The associate asked, scanning the wall for something.I was a little confused. "No, no mountains. What do you mean by a 'novel sample'?""An experience you've never had before that you can try as a sample. Novel experiences are very popular, but people also like fragrances for memories. I always suggest new customers start with a novel one, just to clear any doubts." They explained, without pausing their investigation. "Ah, here it is."I followed them to the end of the wall where there was another line of people waiting to try samples."I'm going to leave you here, there will be someone to help you when you get to the front of the line." They handed …

A woman pilfers a crystal that causes her to grow a dick.

The line in front of the women's restrooms always pisses me off. We all know women take longer in the bathroom, we all know half the population is female, and yet we put the same number of toilets in each room. Sometimes more in the men's room, if you count urinals. One night, while out drinking, I reached a breaking point. I got up to go to the bathroom, and was confronted with a line at least eight women long. "Fuck it" I muttered and walked straight into the men's room. I noticed a few odd looks from the women stuck in line, and a bit of surprise from the men inside; but I wasn't here to make a statement, I had business. The men's room wasn't even close to capacity; most of the urinals were in use, but more than half the stalls were empty. I took one near the back and locked the door. As I finished up, I couldn't help overhearing a hushed conversation happening in the stall next to mine. It was a wheelchair-accessible stall, all the way against the back wall. It sounded like a couple guys were using it for some sort of drug deal. "How do I know it works?" The first guy said, barely above a whisper. "You'll feel it right away, it's immediate." The second reassured him, more casually. "Then I'll do it here, if it works I'll pay for it." The first guy bargained. "No way, money first. It works, trust me." There was a brief lull in their conversation, I could only hear a faint shuffling of clothing. At this point I was done with the stall, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. I wanted to hear what would happen next. I got dressed quietly, so I could …

A man is sent to live in another reality where he was born into a different body. First his self-image must be molded by his mysterious captor to match his new form. A set of three magical piercings, and a bottle of memories, gradually transform him, while he struggles to understand the depths of the changes.

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you realize you’re dreaming? I always wake up right after the realization, like the shock of it breaks the illusion. But this dream was different, backwards almost. I can’t remember how it started, it was like my subconscious pulled my conscious mind into the dream at the moment of realization. My first memory is of saying “This is a dream?” right as it all clicked. It made sense why I was confused, it was different than any dream I’d ever had before. It almost felt more real than being awake. It was like all my senses perceived the area around me in perfect clarity; the colors and brush strokes of every painting along the walls, the smell of soap and stale blood lingering under a foreign perfume, the sweat on my own skin. Even my emotions felt heightened, I was afraid. I was seated in some sort of tattoo chair, my arms and legs restrained with heavy straps. The parlor looked hygienic enough, but it was cluttered with pictures and objects from what must have been decades of use. Standing over me was the person I intuitively understood to be my captor. We had just been talking, or so I felt, but I had no memory of the conversation. I couldn’t tell their ethnicity or gender, I wasn’t even sure they were human. They had smooth pale skin with intensely blue eyes. Their ears came up to gentle points, and their hair was a shimmery white-gray, falling flat and straight like a cascade of liquid silver. They were wearing some sort of long shirt over a pair of short pants, and every visible inch of skin was covered in tattoos and piercings. Most depicted things I had no understanding of. A …