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.

We Can Rebuild Him. We Have The Sorority - TG

    When I went and got myself blown up by an IED in the line of duty, the army scraped up what was left of me and shipped me home to my girlfriend, fully expecting me to expire on the way home. They were already measuring me up for a coffin and, let me tell you, it wouldn’t need to be a long one.

Yet somehow I held on. And if I wasn’t about to give up, neither was my girlfriend. She got me the best medical care she could afford, setting up charity drives to raise further money. Yet the organ transplants required to replace my damaged body were too much. The damage was just too extensive. My arms and legs were salsa, I’d suffered deep tissue burns across 80% of my body. Liver, kidneys, everything was failing.

As I lay there dying, she gathered all her friends together and made one last, incredible push for donations - not money this time, but organs. Skin, fat, bone and marrow, a kidney here, a chunk of lung there. Not much each but enough to form a mostly complete human. I was a Frankenstein’s monster, a mashed up jigsaw of a hundred different people, but alive. It was just a pity that all her friends were girls.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked my sorority for so much,” she’d said nervously when the bandages were first peeled away from my breasts.

Rehab was lengthy. Learning to walk again - new legs, who dis? More surgery, cosmetic this time to make the face look less of a patchwork, though they made it far too pretty if you ask me. My squadmates are already making fun of it. The visit whenever they’re on leave, as if I don’t see straight through their intentions. I’ve already overheard one of them making a crass remark about the appeal of fucking an entire sorority at once.

I knew I was healed when the army rang, asking when I’d be ready to be redeployed. I told them I’d think about it.

My manhood was gone, reduced to atoms - our sex life changed, though certainly hasn’t stopped.

“Does it bother you?” I asked as we lay in bed entwined in each other's arms. “When you kiss me, it’s like you’re kissing your friends.”

“It’s wonderful,” she said, kissing me passionately. “Every time I look at you, I see the precious gift they gave us.” She hesitated a second. “Kinda wish my sister didn’t donate though.”

“Why? Which part is she?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Wonder Broman - Autocloset Cosplay TG

 Haha. Sure, fine, you caught me, bro. Maybe I do help myself to mom’s autocloset and wardrobe when I have the house to myself, so what? I’m man enough to admit it. There’s nothing sissy about wanting to play with a pussy and a pair of titties, even if they are your own. Maybe if you were half the man I am, you’d understand that. Know what isn’t macho? Spying on your brother.

Now shift out my way, the autocloset can’t keep my linebacker physique on ice all evening.

Whoa! Why are you taking your cock out?! Let’s not do anything hasty here. I’m still your brother. Remember? Your best big bro?

You have… footage? Of me fucking myself with my girlfriend’s sex toys? And you’ll upload everything online unless I become… which of your fantasies? Dude, if you think for a second I’ll become your wet dream just because you’re blackmailing me…

Ugh. *sigh* So would you rather I suck you off in the dress or the armor?

A Helping Hand

 

When my son came out as gay, I knew I wanted to be supportive of his lifestyle, even if I wasn’t always sure how to go about it. But when things started getting serious with his boyfriend and he admitted he was anxious at never having satisfied or even been with a guy before, I knew it was my time to shine.

Of course I insisted he spend an hour in the autocloset first. A korean cutie so I wouldn't have to look at his face as he practiced. He didn’t appreciate the bra and panties I dressed him in, but I insisted.

"Don't skimp on the tongue. And would it kill you to play with my balls a little?"

Hand on his head, I gently forced his mouth down again and again until I was completely, utterly satisfied 

that he’d mastered deep throating.

Milk Made

 

It had been two decades since our last child and my wife’s body was less prepared for nursing than it had been then. We tried massage, breastpumps, everything, yet she remained dry as a bone. She'd been set on nursing, and it was obvious her inability to provide was bothering her, so maybe I should have been more tactful with my words.

“Face it. Everybody gets older.”

   She didn’t like that. Not one bit.

I still can’t believe she sold me, forging my consent in a body trade. My birth body was hauled away to be who the hell knows where - worked to death on a construction site or taken apart for organs, and I'm trapped in this vat-grown, barely-human clone, a bovine-augmented wet nurse. I'm a milk factory, existing to lactate and nothing more.

These disgusting tits ache like they're going to burst, the skin tight as a drum, nipples desperate for release. Quadruplets couldn’t drain them fast enough. The longer I go without a milking, the worse the pain gets. My wife treats my agony only with mockery, her derisive moos following me around the house.

My savior got home from college today. He offered a shoulder to cry on and a chance to vent, but that wasn't the release that I craved, and it was his mouth, not his shoulder, that I cared about. In his defense, I had to beg.

If I look blissed out of my skull right now, this is what having two liters drained in a single milking does to a man.

For The Man Who Has Everything - Part Two

 

Request - The Mind Switcher (father/daughter)

 

Thanks again to Muted-Building for this request. If the concept is a little dark, don't worry, she's backed up and I'm sure she can be rescued at any point :)

For the man who has everything

 

Cultural (S)exchange - Part 3

 

Vital Statistics

 

Might take a while to load - sorry, I'm still figuring out gifs!

Suckretery

I’d never trusted my husband around the sluts in his office. He gave me hollow assurances but when his last secretary left beneath a cloud of allegations, I had to know for sure. 

Even as a man, our son had always been slender. How easily it would be to make him the perfect undercover secretary.

It wasn’t easy to persuade him, but you’d be surprised how much pressure a mother can apply, even if I had to use every guilt-trip in the mothers playbook. I explained he was the only one, the only woman I could truly trust around his father. Finally he agreed. He’d become my eyes within the office.

He whined that the implants were excessive. They were needed to round out his figure, to draw the eyes away from any imperfections of the surgery. More importantly I knew precisely the type of overinflated bimbo my husband lusted after. A few minor 12-hour surgeries to reconstruct the cartilage of his face, a month of voice training, and a thick layer of makeup (ugh, more complaints!) and he was ready! By all accounts, he breezed through the interview. He barely had to open his mouth.

When his first day came, I felt a strange sense of pride watching him waddle off to work, perfectly poised atop his 5-inch heels like I’d trained him, jiggling silicone ass stuffed into a pencil skirt. I waited with baited breath for news of my husband’s infidelity.

Nothing…

Weeks ticked by. Months. Then, one day, my husband didn’t come home after work. Nervously I video-called him. Above the wet smacking noises, he explained he’d transferred to a new branch across the country, and had taken his secretary with him.

“Oh, I suppose I should thank you for her,” he chuckled darkly, moving the camera to where I could see the figure sucking his cock, mascara tears running down ‘her’ face. Horror ran through my veins like ice. “I approve of what you’ve done with her. But then of course you knew my ideal woman.”

He ran a hand through his long, golden locks. “Oh, she told me everything on her first day. Not exactly tight-lipped, this one. Nghhh except for when she’s on her knees.”