The Pretty Great Shift - Brother TG Swap

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   I don’t know if we’re the unluckiest men in the world or the luckiest. Me and my brother were hiking the Canadian Rockies in late fall when we got caught in an avalanche. I took a powdering and twisted an ankle, while Liam took the brunt of it. He was swept off a ridge, breaking his legs and likely worse.

“Don’t bother,” he groaned as I started digging him out of the snow drift. “I’m going nowhere like this.”

“You kidding? I’m only digging you out so you can carry me down,” I joked weakly, forcing a smile. I knew things were bad. Even if I dug him out, he was a big guy then, there was no way I could lift him.

“Just leave me.” His eyelids drooped. The snow around him was turning bloody pink terrifyingly fast.

“You’ll be fine. A couple of bandaids and you’ll be fine.”

Then the darndest thing happened. It was like the world shifted. Where my battered brother had been a moment ago, a young woman lay, looking up at me, shivering as the cold air flowed into her loose-fitting clothing, but bright-eyed and bushy tailed, and with not a scratch on her.

“... Liam?”

“I’m hallucinating,” she murmured, staring at her hands before slipping them down the neck of her jacket to grope her tits. That was my brother alright. She wriggled her slim body easily out of the mold in the snow of a much larger man.

“You're not the only one,” I stared. “But if you can hallucinate and walk, I’ll take it.”

We got down from that mountain as fast as we could, not daring to acknowledge what had happened in case reality realized its mistake and corrected it. Liam was as agile as a gazelle as she scrambled from rock to rock. True to my word, she helped carry me the last few miles, slipping her slender form under my arm to take the weight off my twisted ankle.

We hunkered down in the survival cabin expecting help to come get us in a day or two. They never did. We later learned, upon returning to what was left of civilisation, that a thing called the Great Shift had knocked out most of the emergency services, and those that were left were too busy sorting out the chaos in the cities to worry about two idiots up a mountain.

We might have rationed our firewood better if we’d known we’d be there all winter. It was a bitter one. The winds howled, the snow piled up against the cabin door. Huddled tight together, sharing our body heat, we lasted a few months before our naturally impulses overrode our squeamishness. My fingers were blue, but at least my cock was warm inside him. When we were cold, we fucked. When we were horny, lonely and missing our girlfriends, we fucked. Mostly it was the tedium of the long dark. We fucked just to pass the time.

When the spring thaw finally came, Liam was far less gazelle-like as we descended to the valley, her arms wrapped protectively around her heavy abdomen. They'd stocked the cabin with everything for survival - condoms not included.

The Cruise of A Lifetime

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    It was to be my retirement cruise. Just me and my wife touring the world in the lap of luxury. Fourteen months of beautiful scenery, fine dining beneath both the aurora borealis and australis, and tender, intimate moments alone together in the most romantic European cities, culminating in the renewal of our vows as we prepared to spend a comfortable retirement together. No phones, no contact with the outside world, just me and her. Gwendoline had prepared for the holiday in her usual way by packing plenty of little blue pills. The hormonal rollercoaster of menopause had awakened a rapacious sexual appetite in the woman that I’d yet to find a way of quenching.

I’d known my granddaughter Maisie was desperate to see the world. I didn’t realised just how desperate until I awoke on the day of departure with sticky electrodes glued to my scalp beneath my long hair. I’d been bald when I went to sleep. A swap helmet lay on the pillow beside me. My head lolled groggily. She must have dosed herself with sleeping pills last night just before slipping on the swap device, leaving me to have a long, deep sleep inside her.

Navigating the absurdly wide and wiggling hips of a woman was bad enough without the drugs. I staggered to the bathroom, staring in horror at her… my naked reflection. My fingers refused to play ball with donning a bra, so I pulled on a shirt, panties, and ran as fast as I could for the docks.

I arrive just as the cruise liner is departing. Maisie and Gwendoline stand on their cabin balcony, wrapped in each other's arms in the cold morning air. Maisie doesn’t seem to see or hear me hollering on the dockside as the ship pulls away. Perhaps she’s still adapting to her new cataracts and figuring out the on-button on my hearing aid. Perhaps she’s distracted as Gwendoline presses her wrinkles lips against hers in a lingering kiss, her insistent tongue worming its way into her granddaughter’s mouth, her old hands fumbling for the girl’s wizened cock.

The last I see, before the ship departs for 14 months, is Maisie's pale face as Gwendoline pulls her back into the privacy of their cabin.

Brains and Brawn - Possession TG

   That clod of a barbarian had struck me again with the backswing of her axe, striking me with the flat of her blade while in her battle frenzy. I lie in the grass, stars wheeling around my head as blood trickles from my temple and the clanging of battle abates.

Lenna stands over me, wiping her gore-encrusted greataxe off on my wizardly robes. “Fucking mage, tripped over his dress again? You truly are worthless in a fight. Worse - I might have tripped over you lying there. Know your place the next time we're in battle - behind me.”

“I am a hundred and eleven years old, and you will treat me with respect, young lady,” I hiss. As I struggle to stand, there is a crack and a lance of pain from my pelvis.

“Disgusting,” Lenna spits. “Weak. My tribe would have sent you out in the cold decades ago. Save us both the trouble of me babysitting you in battle - do what all old men do and die.”

A berserker’s rage is a terrifying thing. A wizard’s is rarer, and far worse. My eyes flash with eldritch symbology as I level a finger at her, a lance of dark energy striking her in the chest.

“Ruoy ydob si enim uoy tnelosni nairabrab!”

Her spirit link with her animal companion has always been powerful. That connection served her well in battle, yet here it was her undoing. All it took was a blast of necromantic energy to dislodge her soul from her body for ever a moment, and the spiritual link sprang tight, pulled her in and sealed her within the animal, two souls joined in a single body. Leaving her flesh empty and unguarded.

My soul settles comfortably in its new home, my awareness slowly trickling out into her extremities. I feel like warm treacle filling a mold as my essence infuses the vessel.  I slip on her hands like donning fine, well-fitting gloves. My body is strong and vibrant, my blood singing with youth and adrenaline from a battle well-fought. The myriad pains of age, collected over such a long time that I’d almost forgotten their presence, are gone. The iron greataxe feels like a feather in the grip of my powerful arm.

My eyes flutter open. The details of a world unobscured by cataracts stuns me. Was the world always this beautiful? How had I never noticed before? Youth is indeed wasted on the young, as they say. I can make out every leaf on the tree, every hair on the mountain lion bearing down on-

Lenna sinks her teeth into my arm. It is a good pain - sharp and thrilling, not the dull chronic ache of ancient joints. Compared to the pleasure simply dwelling in this perfect physique gives me, the pain is nothing.

It is a simple spell to charm an animal. The glow of my hands reflects in the lion’s eyes.

“Know your place, animal - beneath me. Or else you’ll make a fine fur-skin rug for my wizard tower. Now… sit.” Obediently the animal sits. “At last, you learn respect. Roll over.” She obeys. “Beg.” The animal looks up at me, pleading, whining, the human fear clear in its animal eyes. “... speak.”

“Rawr rah rawrhhhh ra,” the animal mewls.

“Struggling with that one, are we?” I laugh. Slowly I heft the blade, relishing the bunching of my powerful muscles. The lion shrinks back. I check if I am being watched. Our companions are finishing up their half of the fight. They won’t notice. “In case you’re wondering if this is temporary…”

My axe thuds down into the inert form of my old body. My grey-haired head rolls away into the grass.

The-Not-So-Great-Shift - Breeding Season

 After the Great Shift, population numbers were in severe decline. It wasn’t just the people who perished on Shift Day or those we lost in the months of chaos afterwards, it was the birthrate - about a third of what it had been before the Shift.

   It was understandable. Practically every existing relationship in the world had been ripped asunder, partners dispersed across the globe (with many millions still trying to find their way back home) or placed in bodies completely incompatible with their ex-spouses. Reforging those broken pairings and forming new ones was slow. Half of men were now women, and half of women were now men, and -for the most part- sexualities had been unaffected, rendering around half of the population technically gay overnight.

Then there were matters of age, religion, culture, and language, all of them scrambled. The awkwardness and generational divide of dating a smoking hot, teen blonde with the personality and values of 90-year-old Sudanese man. Finding common ground was hard these days.

It wasn’t that babies weren’t being conceived - with sex being one of the few universal cultural touchstones we still had in common, there was plenty of it going on (too much if you ask me), but few males had the nurturing instinct that a lifetime of hormones and cultural programming instilled. Most ex-males avoided pregnancy like the plague.

Ultimately the state intervened once it became clear how dire the situation was. The Compulsory Coupling Draft, the government called it. My blood ran cold the day they announced it. Forced breeding. We - everyone with a functioning uterus, female-born or not- was to be assigned a partner. A stud. We were to be bred like animals! Me! A respected surgeon and father of four! Given to some man to be impregnated again and again like some puppy mill. I was only just coming to terms with the fact the uterus between my legs might actually be mine, and now I was being told it was actually property of the state.

The man I was given to, Cathlene, was a thug and a brute. Testosterone psychosis. By all accounts, his body had been an affable family man once and his mind that of a sweet grandmother. Some women don’t cope well with being thrown into a brain with foreign, male impulses, which can run unchecked, making monsters out of the mildest ex-women. Even if I could escape the draft, there was no escaping Cathlene once he discovered the delights of breeding me. When I tried, the beatings began.

I’ve been lucky so far. I’ve yet to fall pregnant, though not for lack of Cathlene trying. The state monitors all fertiles closely, knows precisely when they’re ovulating. This month, it hit at work. There’s a special breeding room the hospital sets aside for staff-use, lilac-painted and decorated with photos of babies. I strip, lie back and stare at the ceiling. Cathlene spreads my legs eagerly and has his rough way with me.

“Perhaps this will be the month,” he croons, and I try not to flinch as he strokes my abdomen. The thought of my belly swelling with this man’s child makes my skin crawl.

I stifle noises of discomfort as he mounts me, knowing he hates anything other than my fake orgasms. His leering face is red and sweating as he rocks above me, growing in pace and intensity until he’s practically berserk, slamming me against the bed as he all-but foams at the mouth. A sticky warmth blossoms within me and I shudder, turning away. Suddenly he grabs my neck, squeezing. “You didn’t say ‘thank you’,” he snarls.

“Thank you,” I croak out.

“Hngh. Good girl.”

The Donor

 

I sit in the living room, in the unfamiliar body of Sarah, trying to process what is happening as the lighting fixtures jingle and the hard thud of the headboard against the bedroom wall upstairs reverberates through the house.

My friends Claire and Sarah had been trying to conceive for years. After exhausting their finances on artificial insemination, they’d approached me. A trip to the Swap Clinic would cost them a fraction of the cost of another round of IVF. They needed my body - part of it anyway. I’d set my awkwardness aside to help friends in need.

I’d expected the conception to be a clinical process. They’ve been going at it for two hours.

Who knew a lesbian would have a breeding fetish? I think as Claire loudly begs her girlfriend to blow her load inside her womb. There comes a long, satisfied grunt as Sarah unloads my cock inside Claire with a deep, male "fuuuck". Does my voice really sound like that?

So that was it then?

“We can go again in a few minutes if you like,” Claire’s breathless moan comes through the ceiling.

“I hope you’re not getting a taste for this, babe,” Sarah laughs in my voice.

I make myself comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.

Cultural (S)exchange - Part 2

 

Cultural (S)exchange - part 1, abbreviated

 

This version might be a little more legible.

Cultural (S)exchange - Part 1

 

This one was perhaps a little too ambitious, and sacrifices had to be made with resolution, so apologies if the text is unreadable or if it is too large to load. Let me know if it fails to load and I'll try to shrink it down some more.

It had taken months of petitioning the school board and a generous grant from the Saudi Cultural Bureau itself, but I’d finally arranged a cross-cultural field trip for my pupils. It was to be a month of cultural and religious exchange, forging links of friendship and mutual understanding that would last a lifetime.

32 eager young men and myself, their teacher, would be exchanging bodies with women from Saudi Arabia. While they would be living in the homes of my pupils here in America, we'd be jetting off to experience the everyday lives of women in their own country. I was confident tit would be an eye-opening experience and, who knows, perhaps they'd learn a thing or two from us too. 

The anticipation was huge. The day itself was bedlam. Collecting the ladies from the airport by coach, shuttling them to the gymnasium where the vast apparatus of the mind exchange machine had been temporarily installed, where they were each transferred into an American body, and my pupils into theirs. The girls lined up for their turn. My pupils, I’m sad to say, were not quite so well behaved, joking, arguing and tussling over who would get which body. After, passports had to be exchanged, as well as clothing, underwear, phones and items of personal hygiene, during which time I was the last to go into the machine.

The body felt strange as I bundled the ex-women back onto the coach, readjusting the driver’s seat to fit my shorter stature. Out of respect, I’d yet to remove the niqab, though I suspected beneath it I was younger and far more petite than I’d have ideally liked for my position of authority. The girls had been timid when they got off the plane but, as each was dropped off with the people they’d call family for the next month, I sensed them beginning to come out of their shells.

Then back on the coach to race my pupils to the airport! Getting through security was an eyeopener, exacerbated by the fact none of the boys had even bothered to open their passports to learn their new names, let alone were able to pronounce them. But finally we were in departures, and I could relax.

Until I realised two of my wards had slipped away to the prayer room to compare tongues.

“George! Nathaniel! These bodies were bequeathed by their owners in the spirit of good faith - you will treat them with the respect and dignity with which they are treating yours!”

If I’d known how intimately acquainted some of the saudi women were getting with their new bodies, I might not have been so prudish.

Request: James and Ashley - Part Two

Away on a charity walk for the next few days so might not be free to upload much alas :(
 

Request - James and Ashley

 

Hopefully the gif works this time. For some reason the colour is all wrong so I'm going to keep working to try to correct that.