FemaleFantasy's TG Captions

 

“Mark, over here!” Mark turned to the sound of the noise, surprised to see it was coming from the modestly dressed woman sat at the cafe he’d just walked into. “Joe? Wow… I, uh, heard you got caught up in that Role Exchanger thing that hit the office, but this is… Damn. I didn’t even recognize you.” Joe blushed subtly. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. It’s a pretty big change. I barely recognize myself anymore.” “What’s up with the headscarf? the clothes?” “Yeah, I, um, I think I might be muslim now. Like it’s weird enough that I swapped genders with one of the secretaries down the hall, but remember Hassan, that super conservative investor that was always getting on the female junior staff for not dressing ‘modestly’ enough in the office? Yeah, he used to take a couple breaks a day to pray, right? He walked out to do that in the middle of a meeting once!” “Well, uh, he doesn’t do that anymore. He also can’t speak Arabic anymore, apparently, so i guess I know where I got that from too ” Mark ...

Brad didn’t know what he found more unbelievable: The fact that he was currently looking down at his business professor sucking his cock, or that it was actually his roommate Anthony behind Professor Lawrence’s big, brown eyes. The Great Shift had hit during class a few months ago, Swapping Brad with another male classmate to his left while Anthony’s mind was rocketed to the front of the class and into the body of the woman whose class they’d only signed up for because they had heard she was the best looking teacher on campus.   Once the shock of the shift had died down, they decided to stay roommates, a decision they had both taken without anticipating the sexual tension that living under the same roof in unfamiliar bodies would have on them. For Brad, he was just a taller, stronger version of what he once was, but Anthony had more pressing matters to adjust to: Initially, Anthony was horrified. An 18 year old man now inhabiting the body of a woman twice his age. Over time, howeve...

“Hi, i’m Allison!” “No, that doesn’t sound right… Hey, my name’s Becca. Anna? Rachel? Damn, this is hard…” One thing was certain, she thought, awkwardly practicing poses and different facial expressions in the mirror as she thought up more names to try out. She couldn’t keep calling herself Connor. Second Puberty had made sure of that when it had taken his male frame away and replaced it with a body no one would ever mistake for being male again. And now that his body was finally done changing, like it or not, he was left with the particularly emasculating task of building his newly female identity from the ground up: Taking photos to update all his documents, buying clothes and underwear that fit his new body, getting measured for a bra, and most importantly, choosing the name he’d be introducing himself by for the rest of his life.  Hmm. Connor took a second look in the mirror. Maybe Emily suited him better?

You’ve heard of “Shift Immersion therapy”, right? No? Well, it’s getting pretty popular post-Great Shift, especially for people like me who cross the gender/race fence.  My therapist had suggested it after I hadn’t had any success adapting to my new body during our sessions. Basically, it’s like this: Instead of leaning away from your radically different new life, try to lean into it. Make up a persona and try to stick to it all day. Pick out a woman’s name and try it out in public, dress up in something overtly feminine that you never would have worn before, basically anything to break yourself out of the mold of your old self and get you to embrace your new future. I mean, I was a middle aged white guy before all this and I ended up as an Indian woman half my age, it’s a lot to wrap your head around, being perceived so differently. I’ve been leaning into it more, which kinda felt like cosplay at the start but i dunno, I think it’s actually helping me separate the old me from the ...

“…What the hell…” Brandon slowly raised himself up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he began to notice the difference in his surroundings compared to when he had gone to sleep. Like the brown bedsheets instead of his regular white ones, the walls painted a different color from his own, the mass of dense, brown hair now covering his eyes, pushed back by a woman’s manicured hand instead of his own. The unfamiliar shifting weight of something heavy brushing against the thin tank top covering his chest as he sat up and finally glimpsed a very changed reflection in a mirror in the corner of the room. Brandon didn’t know it yet, but he was experiencing the first moments of an experience most other FOSE victims had already gone through hours ago: the realization that he was in somebody else’s body entirely. A month ago, Brandon had been struck with a sudden inspiration to turn his life around. He’d started working out daily, dressing better, and quit masturbating so he could focus...