Reposition

For Lina, all the preparations beforehand can’t calm her nervousness down. Not that it shows on her face, like her usual blank smile or her aqua eyes with a nightly aura, quite fitting for someone used to hiding all her real expressions under them.

She’s nervous not because Juxtaposition demands too much. She’s ready to send her body and chastity to the next customer in the club or throw away her self-image of decency built up in her previous jobs. When she met that shady agent (who nonetheless talked her into this place and explained everything about the deal), she has expected all those.

Not the maid dress, her new “uniform”. Granted, it was probably unacceptable for “clean” jobs and “only a bit” revealing, her bust cropping out on the otherwise modest violent-and-white pattern. She’d heard of even more exposed “bunnies” who has barely a bikini under her bunny ears. And even that can be stripped whenever the customers need her.

She’s nervous because of meeting the one who’s holding the club together. Her new employer, someone enigmatically called “The Mistress”. It’s good to know your new employer well. But the agent told her surprisingly little of this woman, except her name, and so her treatment of the club she owns seems a mystery to her. Is that intentional? Is there something she (or they) has to hide, for the club, or for herself? What kind of boss will she be, other than demanding all those from her? She’ll see her sooner or later and reminds herself: be careful and hope for the best in her.

The walk to the whitewashed mansion’s doors is tough, even with all those times of standing in her past jobs. She’d better be accustomed to it, Lina thinks. She has a sigh of relief when she sees a girl posted there. Her hair has a fluffy, hoppy feel to it, and the smile’s understandably tame. “Are you the newbie? … I’d seen you from the photo the Mistress gave me, that agent took one from you she said.” “I remember…” “Call me Rab, K? Everyone in here calls me this nickname. You’ll see me every time you’re coming to work here… but yeah, seldomly, you know that.” She’s right, and “nothing’s” bad with staying overnight, especially if it’s sexually “rewarded”. “Come with me…” Even as real people and tangible furniture before her, they fade in and rarely flicker whenever Lina sees them.

The new girl has a pressing first question. “It’s a bit blunt, but are we going to see the Mistress right away, Rab?” “Nah, not for now. The Mistress said the agent told you everything you need to know up to this point, and it’s better to leave you with some on-job experience first, she told me. Besides, she’s sorting out things with a patron – yours only one tonight!” Easy or not, that’s a lot for her first night.

Crisscrossing the halls and galleries, she can’t stop noticing how bewildering all those co-working girls’ and male customers’ images cross with each other, as deep as they can. She’ll have a hell lot of tales to tell after the stint here! And so, knowing the club better from Rab, they’re at the private room where she’ll be until the sun returns. “Get yourself ready here and wait, I’ll be back at the doors,” Rab tells her before pushing and sliding the cabin door shut. Seems like Lina’s prey, a rewarding one. Unzipping the protective blue jacket for her new uniform, she takes out little packs of perfume and cosmetics from the jacket pockets – for them to be meshed all over later on. She’s just finishing herself when the time Rab scheduled comes, and like a dream ending, she fades away…

Waking up is strange. The mind’s still on the sofa when she was, but on that mirror – that’s only noticed now – is the reflection of Lina’s. The body poses in front of that mirror, not just one narrow one, but a wall covered in reflections of her. Lina at first ducks, the thighs shaping itself like a duck’s hinds (so gross), the rims barely covering the blue bottom trying to be uncovered. One hand grabs the gigantic right breast, like the hand of another lewd man, and the other hides under the umbrella cover and gropes inside, seeking her own self. She’s making a satisfying face, half making the same sardonic smile and half the penetrating gaze on her own reflection; half embracing herself and half gaining so much from this body.

If Lina’s there, who’s here? This is when he realized the belted pants he’s on. Semi-hard, perhaps, and lightly wetting. Did Rab ever mentioned a body swap Lina had only imagined in fiction? Having this body is confusing, and he can’t even rise from the awkwardly spread weight of all the bones and muscles inside him. The tie’s half undone by the open buttons, like his senses right now. Almost every time one of those muscles will ache from pulling himself too hard, and there Lina just slips up, turning herself so nimbly, and walking towards the sofa. A knowbie facing the newbie!

The pain’s almost gone, and hovering over his body’s Lina, glancing over the half-formed boner. Her face (used to be his own) is one he’d never seen before, tempting herself and him. “Thank you master for giving me the best body I’ve… The softest breasts I’ve ever played with, my own… lean but still bouncing thighs I’d like to flex, my own… Don’t you want me, my half-lame master? Don’t you see me from my back? Down here my ‘master’…” Even with all those impulses sent towards his brain, the sponge on his groin is never solid even with the images of Lina. Harder, harder, but no, a mind hard-wired to gaining excitement from being penetrated can’t start to imagine having a fertile, meaty boner on himself, not even with all the tips and tales from other girls. The head rolls, silently, against her eyes, not willing to face the superiorly adjusting “subordinate”.

“My master, get aroused… get hard… nothing bad with it, master… love your and my husks like never before, my master…” And since this isn’t enough, the maid helps by extending two of her fingers to rub and gently squeeze the part of fabric touching the foreskin. Once and twice, until she flicks the contours under the master’s member, droving mindlessly, but drooling from its mouth until the fabric’s just-dried mark wets again. This time, the master manages much better. The maid’s quick to reach his belt, first unclasping the metal ring on the belt, then unwinding the leather from the, and finally, a zipper, a button and a quick flash of underwear. Now, his member is out in the chilly air, and with all the help Lina has given him, it’s hard as rock and prepared to race their hearts.

“And now, master, have the best of your maid’s body~” as she says, she descends, still standing aside him, and holding her sizable chest with hands, forces her cleavage on his boner. The boobs are squishy, but still a nice pair to hold the boner upright. “Now brace your precious part for my precious parts,” Lina as she waves the spongy pair between a slowly dripping boner. All the blowing and stoking in his groin adds to the master’s confused senses, like something he’s never felt before. Not as Lina, not as this man before coming to the club. They’ve overwhelmed him in the start of an ecstatic stupor. “Don’t hurry, my master, hold and be patient…” from the boobs pressing against his cock, they’ve only seen their sizes until now – juxtaposing them leaves a good comparison of watermelons with thick water pipes. One place is drained, and another overfilled, everywhere flaring up, and every sense even more bewildering to the master, more than he’ll ever have outside the club! “Master, my whole body’s working for you, my top shelfs’ laboring for you, only for you and your crotch to be amazed by me!” Inside the cabin (the surroundings’ no longer clear), they’re over the Seventh Heaven, under the Seventh Hell, and the burning hearts blurs Lina’s fiddling self, and the rapid stream over him. “Amazed like you’ve never been…” a knowbie says to the newbie.

Finishing the boob job quite well, the maid knows the next step to serve her master – rolling the boobs from the assault position, while carefully not to deject the now-full boner. The deep trench that’s her cleavage is now stained with a few marks of his fertility, nicely and viscously scattered. Lightly shaping her mouth, the maid blows her mildly humid and cool air onto the tip of his shaft, preparing for a final step in placating her master. Now that the boner is up, even a light touch sends a tingling sensation down the touchy part of the foreskin, onto the spines and up to his brain. “Feeling it, master? The best is coming…” the maid remarks before mouthing the whole boner with a single dive, the master’s head now back with the attention on his “maid”. Such a boner he has, his maid’s face’s muscles are stretched until they limp on the hard pillar, only to suck. And he blows, rewarding the maid as much as himself. The maid has his white juice, down her throat and maybe the stomach, and all the salty nutrients of that. Meanwhile, he’s too off-put, the senses are now overwhelmingly and only from the boner, that his mind’s exploding with lewdness. His balls fondled by the same delicate fingers, meekly yet nimbly, is the final tip on the balance. “Auch… Agh… Aw… Ah…!” With a red-hot and gaping face, he has finally broken his total silence after landing into this confusing body and assailed by even more confusing yet exhilarating sensations. With the roar comes even harder blows, all swallowed by the maid.

A few seconds in, and the boner is already leaking its strength from the sudden blast. Not that they have enough, but the blow has gone from rapids to a drizzle. The maid slowly extracts her sucking device – she means the mouth – from the place, the face full of dripping cum, the cock full of dripping saliva. With half the load still in her mouth, all he can make out is a few slurry praises. “Congratulations on popping your man-cherry” is the clearest, and “You’ve done pretty well, my ‘new’ master” is less so.

She’s so well satisfied… and while the fervor hasn’t gone in him, the sight of her, still in her half-exposed uniform, isn’t enough to satisfy him. Not even another sucking, or a thousand suckings. The fruit’s tasted. Lina’s now the prey, and this is a better dream than he’s ever imagined.

The master gathers his whole body, and with his full strength, gets up pounces onto the maid. “Lina!” a pair of now-loosened arms clutch onto her voluminous figure, at first trying to pull every decoration and fabric of the maid dress away, until barely the blue bikini’s left, then doing away with the bikini, altogether. The eyes of the master burns on hers with full fierceness. In haste, a few buttons on him are ripped apart, the whole pants hanging loose. Lina’s barely surprised by the whole rush, but less so with how her master’s treatment. Like straight out of Eden and into the wild jungle, the two thrusts from one posture to another posture, often rabidly and often feebly, with all the cosmetics and drool flying over them. Once Lina’s breasts are squeezed and the nipples sucked, repaying the master. Each other’s asses are grabbed a few times, and every inch of their progressively nude skin are mopped over by the two pair of hands, one strong and one weak. Not to mention all those penetrations, jobs and every carnal lust their minds are wallowed in, everything else now irrelevant…

She doesn’t know how long has passed after both of them passed out. And she found herself on the top of the couple, the soaked pair of breasts hanging on her frame. Which means everything is in a bodyswapping dream, yet they’re at the same time real. The two worlds fuse and mingle together, like nowhere else. Thinking of any of the details will put a mild blush on her face, now back with the same blank smile. “Sorry, I’m really sorry… We could have done much better, and I’d done badly. Everything is still, quite a lot of fun!” She’s finally in the right mind to work here, and nothing’s going to scare her off this job. This time’s the best induction, even when a first-timer as her had gotten to their new senses. Even when a big shower, maybe a bath, is needed to rid herself of the cum-and-juice stench! The day’s breaking, and daytime is her off-time, the agent said. 

And Lina, now totally soaked and thoroughly chilly with loss, needs no answer. Don't ever try, don't catch her.

As for the Mistress? She’s in her room, replaying and watching everything happening in the cabin with an ethereal screen, a sherry cocktail in hand. “The best introduction is an introduction by labor,” she says at how Lina’s getting herself quickly with the norms of this club. After this night, she thinks, it is time to greet and induce her into Juxtaposition.

This is a commission for someone on DeviantArt. But who'll care? 

Not a Waifu

It was another typical night for Tim, and time to go onto Danbooru after a few odd, strenuous gigs! He closed into the screen as it loads. The first pic, another of those girls he didn’t recognize, with long black hair and altogether forgettable. She’s from, probably, SAO, and almost no one should remember her. The second one… Isn’t she from one of those harem animes? The art style looked like it. He had watched a few animes, but they were all the kind where the characters pick up a gig (like part-time animes) or a hobby (like K-On), like what he usually did. Deeper animes, occasionally, but not the kind that’s either apparently hollow or fanservicey. Those girls he preferred to look at them on Danbooru, out of context. Seriously, why would he still be browsing at that age, with his serious lifestyle and sight problems. He’d better find something else to do, like finding a girlfriend or getting better pay…

A message popped up on his Discord.

“Hi” “Hey”

“Whats up” “Still going on Danbooru”

“Getting any girl you like” “Not much, just finding and looking at my own waifus” Yeah, like any “weeb” or anime-watching folk, he’d gotten a few of the girls he liked so much, that he’d claim as his own. Not yet…

“Not just waifus but also random girls” “I’m looking at one right now she’s from a harem anime? She’s called… Irina Shidou?” Looking at that girl again, he was a bit impressed by the decent looks of hers: those waving, elongated twintails, matched with some flushing bangs and a pair of wine-red, watery eyes. She has the kind of slender yet ample figure he preferred.

“What make a waifu a waifu or a girl your favorite girl is just a small endearing trait” “So… yeah?” He was probably right: he might or might not have a big bunch of waifus, like those harem male protags, but at least, if you love a girl, you must find something in her that’d catch your heart. Looking at her again, something in her clicked with him, but only very mildly. He could have a lot more from all the waifus he already had, not to mention a girl from a harem anime whom he’d barely known!

“About your waifus…”

Tim never talked about him browsing Danbooru openly, even though that was no different from many people’s porn nights, or indeed if you can always use Safebooru for an almost family-friendly experience. But he’d open up to a few of his fellow co-workers who knew his anime binges, and chat about animes past and current. Like, their plots, their favorite moments, their weaknesses, their characters, and of course their waifus? But that was only sporadically, when they had no one to tend to, and often disturbed by sudden assignments.

He saw a new pull on Derek’s Azur Lane account: he’d gotten the wildly popular bikini Zara who he’d seen on Danbooru a lot. She looked like the kind of girl popular artists would plunge in and draw safe and lewd arts of her, with the vaguely gyaru looks, hot chili-colored hair and bikini on a succulent body. “Derek, you’ve got a nice girl!” “Nice enough for rushing yourself, maybe not enough for forming a decent fleet…” Derek thought about setting up the fleet before how he felt about her body. “But that’s not bad, considering her looks.” Anthropomorphic warships are still warships, apparently.

Tim was reminded of his time as an Admiral, but at that time, cute girls came a big second for him. He’d seen a lot of fleet girls he personally liked, but barely used in real gameplay, and he simply went on Danbooru for seeing them more often. “I was an Admiral too, once, and I’d looked for their art on Danbooru, like Kashima back then. She was big because she’d the looks, like this Zara. She’s no waifu though, just looking…” Tim told Derek about his past, and Derek somewhat knew what Tim was up to: thinking about girls you’d just see or seldom see and suddenly remembered. “This Zara, that Kashima, any girl you come across, if you like them, claim them as your own! Even though you know next to nothing about them. Know them and then you’ll appreciate them, and becoming like them! That’s how I treat my new waifus.”

Becoming like them, what did he mean? Tim guessed he’d better to think about that girl again and see if she could be an out-of-context waifu, like everyone does with a new popular character. Irina… She had no big breasts like Zara, and her hair color was rather natural (but out of place for real Asians) compared to the unnaturally red Zara. She was in a few titillating outfits, on a level with Zara’s bikini. She wasn’t even that eye-catching after the first glance!

But becoming like them?

He still had no idea of “becoming like” a girl other than making her a waifu, or indeed thinking about a girl. A girl is a girl, on her own, and Tim was Tim, that 27-year old brown-haired weeb who’d have problem seeing things without that pair of thick glasses.

The vision’s a bit blurry – did he forgot the pair of glasses? No, he could clearly see the black glass frames constraining the field of vision. The sight became foggier slowly as he tried to wipe the lens, to no effect. Until he realized the blur was spread all over the lens, and the little bit of sight outside the frame was going the other way, sharpening and regaining the focus! He removed the pair of spectacles, and surely, everything was more firmly real than whenever he had removed them before. His sight was healing miraculously.

His ears and nose felt lighter without the pair of glasses weighing on them after such a long time of wearing them. But no, even though the glasses were quite heavy, they felt too light as if they were taken away bit by bit, losing their own size then weight. Were they shrinking? Yeah and nope, as he touched his nose. He felt like it was his whole skull, not just those features on his face, was being pulled from within, so that even though everything on his face were kept more or less at a similar and human proportion while shrinking on the whole. Tim couldn’t think of what was really happening on his body, let alone really reacting to them. He could only wait until things became stable or normal again.

Almost without him noticing, the roof seemed more distant every second. Everything in the room grew, millimeter by millimeter, like the mushroom power-up reverting itself, or a previously normal-heighted human into a dwarf. The bag that was his skin squeezed his weak energy out, leaving something even weaker, but more fitting of the size his body was taking on. The T-shirt he was on, slightly loose when he put it open, was now oversized, so much that it was hanging on his emaciated frame. Or was it?

Feeling all the sweat and heat over his belly, he pulled the T-shirt on his torso, flapping it to fan some air inside. The hairs on his arm, once stood by the bit of static electricity, were quickly retreating inside the follicles. At once he pulled up the T-shirt, and it flew away like sliding away on a pole. Tim finally saw some more concrete changes on him: the once slightly muscular portion around his navel were completely skinny by then, like all the muscles under it weakening and dissolving. Instead of the width he should had of his abdomen, the torso was quickly angling towards his crotch, and the waist where his legs joined were now a new pair of bulk, more impressive than it would be for a complete male. He’d seen enough good fanart anatomy to know things were turning feminine for him – her? She had to be sure if she’d turn out to be a real chick or transgender, so ripping off the pair of boxers (figuratively), she found her old manhood retreating inside her crotch, like a turtle hiding inside its shell, waiting for a new organ and its gap to be in place. Meanwhile, on the chest, the nipples swelled from the originally broad ribs, going from paper-thin to cardboard-sized, to the size of tennis balls and now the oranges. Who would know how big they would be when they were fully grown? But she’d be another girl to be sexualized at the very least and being a slut at the very worst.

Becoming like a girl, indeed! Becoming like a girl? Who on earth would suddenly want to have their gender flipped other than a transgender! They need to learn all the troubles of their new sex and gender identities without growing up or experiencing them to some level of familiarity! Tim couldn’t start to imagine her facing the cycle or getting even a decently workable sense of fashion, not that she hadn’t seen them in others, but facing them herself was another matter. But first off, what was her face becoming? Going inside the bathroom, she found herself altogether quite young-looking for a woman her age, with much more child-like fat around her, closer to a teen. The chin was sharp, but the face had barely anything angular around it, without much of a nose, and sharp, round-eyed. The last bit of leafy green was drained away, leaving a bloodied iris. Behind her, new streaks of blonde appeared and mixed with the existing brown hair, reaching down almost to the floor. And the flushing bangs…

Not just any girl, but someone looking like that Irina, whether she liked her or not.

“Tim” was gone, and in his place Irina. At first, she thought all that mattered was adjusting to a new gendered lifestyle, which could had been quick and simple if she could find some accepting pals. But no, instead, someone with a cool and short blue hair found her, apparently knowing her for so long a time. The “memories” from this body said “Xenovia”. Bad time for someone trapped in a world she’d never known!

This is a commission for someone on DeviantArt

Sexual Education for the Non-binary

For the Sexual Education course’s final project, Kamio had little idea of the direction he was going to work on. It was either individual or pair, and (exciting all the boys in class), the pairs had almost always had both genders – as non-binary unfriendly as it was, everyone knew where they would go. And for that, even with the “conservative” content taught in the textbook, the project had the reputation of being a free-for-all and liberally graded, as much as he’d heard from old frats. The usual sexual stuff quickly got mediocre – he needed a fun way out that’ll guarantee him the good grade he deserved.
And the “he” is used a bit loosely here – Kamio got no cock nor balls, but a fine slit. That meant he was a cuntboy, the shorty kind who was still well-muscled enough to pass for a real dude in PE lessons and having his lack of the bulge barely noticed by anyone. Normally, doing the project himself and writing about his life with a pussy would be good enough for a decent grade, the glaring eyes notwithstanding. But that would be a bit boring, without other boys getting on him, as he’d built his circle without any way to have “boy”-boy skinship.
Who’d be better – getting a cock without the stigma of appearing to be “gay”? He’s been eyed on – and yeah, the eyes belonged to Nanase. A “girlfriend”, sorta. Almost everyone knew they were together for some time, and they were a perfect match – teasing with down-to-earth, tall with short, and hot with unassuming. The cleavage opened by the unbuttoned shirt facing him, and her smug grin, said a lot. She wanted to be a pair in the project with him.
That was more than perfect. She was in the same shoe with him. The first night she’d been to his place, getting some hot rubbing, they knew each other’s quirk. Once he unzipped his pants and revealed something delicate beneath the pubic hair, she had him pushed back and, grubbing from her plain underwear, something thick. A full member with the balls, and nothing else.
“Ya’ll like a pair with ma’, probs!”

After she’d leaned and spread her legs over the bedsheet, Kamio found the member tightly packed. Lightly removing the band of underwear holding it back, the little dick head flung up, with a lightly red and enjoying face by Nanase. Both of them are ready for the dick between them to be milked. The gush of Nanase was one of hell a thrust. After a quick groping, he had it all over his face, like the female part in a normal pull. Nanase panted, a bit ecstatic, and Kamio felt a little squirt on his exposed part. Time for the real deal – Kamio backed off, grabbed the same stick and dripped it right on the squirt on his body…
In the end, the fire burned all over Kamio and Nanase from beholding each other’s precious secret.
But what if he had had a dick, like a normal guy and Nanase as a futanari?
Even better - wouldn’t having each other’s body nice for them? He could play with Nanase’s boobs on the chest, and finally got to jerk off with the cock on the groin. Nanase, meanwhile, would feel how orgasms from a pussy could be… More pleasure than they had now. Even better - that could be a part of the project after which they’d recall about.

The next day, Kamio slowly unwinded her eyelids. It was Saturday – no extra lessons this week. A pair of soft, mushy, yet ample weight over her chest, and instead of the fitting boxers holding another pair of intimate lips, she had the sky-blue pantsu clutching the dormant member. The little trick Kamio found last night worked! This meant “Kamio” on the same bed was actually Nanase in the cuntboy’s body. He was still asleep like dead – but Kamio was ready to end whatever dream he was having! Little by little the boxers were pulled down, until she saw the same pubic hair, dark and barely shaved, and the moist flaps. She inserted a fine fingernail inside, stirring the juice inside, while the body stirred. Then, with the cock erected and dripping, it was time to wake him up by a few punches in the belly!

A week later, Kamio took on the same smug face as the body often had, the same shirt unbuttoned for the perfectly-sized cleavage to be revealed, like she’d always done. As “Nanase”, she had enough love-filled eyes on her and her flesh, sought after by most of the class. But she eyed only the short boy to her side whom she had been inextricably entwinned with. And having a glimpse of “Kamio”’s smooth groin, something in her underwear was itching…

All art used here are under fair use.