Your life is close to perfection. You are finally feeling happy.
Since you were young you wondered what it would feel like to be a woman. You would be laying in bed tucking your dick away at night in bed, fantasizing you are no longer carrying a penis but you’d have a pussy between your legs. As you grew older it would be the main fantasy you were jerking off on, feeling your dick harden and cumming very hard as you fantasized about not having a dick.
“What do you want?” my owner asked.
It was such a small, simple question, but it had enormous significance. Fortunately, my new, computerized brain processes information at blazing speeds compared to what my old grey matter could accomplish, intelligent though I had been, so I could really think about all the issues involved.
I used to think that I belonged in a male body. I was proud of my broad shoulders, square features, thick beard, and even the stereotypical gut that stuck out in front of me. But when my mind was dumped inside the synthetic body of a thin woman with perky breasts and butt, I had to completely re-evaluate my sense of self. As much as I would like to argue that our true identity exists in the mind rather than in the body, it’s hard to maintain that view when a different voice comes out of my mouth or when I have to brush long red locks of hair out of my eyes, a gesture that I never once performed as a man, or when I feel a stirring desire for flesh from the empty cavity between my legs that I never possessed before.
I used to think that physical pleasure was a distraction from the highest good of reason and self-reflection. That’s not to say pleasure was bad (I enjoyed a fair amount of sex myself), but it seemed selfish and small compared to the cause philosophy to which I had devoted myself. But maybe I thought that way because I had never experienced true satisfaction before. Now that I have a body literally built for sex, I can’t imagine how all my sitting around thinking ever did any good. I was still bitter and grumpy and often lonely. But as a PleasureBot, I experience the most incredible sensations of euphoria, not only be receiving pleasure, but by giving it to my master as well. The more selfish we are with our lust, the more happiness we create in each other.
I used to think that I was only interested in women. I admired long silky legs and lush round tits. Their softness, their grace, their quivering sensuality all turned me on in an instant. At first I was horrified to find myself inside such a body, feeling the jiggling of my curves and seeing the delicacy of my features in a reflection. But the more I saw the lust in my master’s eyes, the more I understood possessing those features I had always lusted after was even more arousing than seeing them.
And now that I am softer and smaller, it is the strength, the size, and the hardness of my master that makes me quiver. He took his time having sex with me the first time, tracing my contours with his kisses, stroking my skin in meandering patterns that sent electricity racing through my circuits. It was like he wanted to stimulate each and every one of the pleasure relays built into my skin. My consciousness wasn’t prepared to handle so many sensations, and I allowed the programming to take over, so that when I finally felt his rigid member slide into my soaking wet synthetic pussy, my high pitched voice blared the news of my first orgasm in this body. We’ve had plenty of sex since then, in all sorts of rhythms, rooms, and positions, and I know now that there is nothing else on earth that can satisfy me the way a man’s cock can.
I used to think . . . I used to think so much. As a stodgy and aging professor of philosophy, I used to spend hours just thinking, pondering, weighing ideas. But as an android, all these ruminations take only a split second. So it was really quite a simple matter for me to realize that all my old ideas about free will were wrong all along. None of us really has free will. We are a slave to our bodies and to our perceptions as much as androids are slaves to their owners. But I realized something: if I choose to accept my slavery, then it’s no longer something I’m forced to do, but something I want to do. That choice makes me free to fully embrace the person that I am. And the person I am now is a sex object.
“What do you want?” my master had asked.
“I want your cock inside me,” I moaned.
Roger waited until his daughter Cassie left the house. That was the time he could look around her room. He was doing it constantly behind her back, trying to find anything that shouldn’t be there. What exactly he was looking for? Cigarettes, drugs and all the stuff teenagers hide before their parents. Roger didn’t find anything but he kept searching her room everytime he had the occasion.
I was an average guy working as a cashier in a local supermarket but i had a secret. I often put on a body suit i bought and pretended to be a woman. I didn’t have any particular reason i just enjoyed it.
One day my sister asked me to go to a party with her. I liked to spend some time with her so i agreed. However she had an unusual request. She wanted me to wear the body suit for the party. I was surprised, how did she knew about my secret. My sister insisted so much i finally gave up.
I don’t exactly know what happened. I was looking at myself in the mirror when I felt like if some electrical current went through my body. I fell to the floor in pain. I started shaking, my whole body was burning, I took off all my clothes as fast as I could, trying to cool my body down.
Even after six months of being pregnant Matthew was still getting used to the strange life of being a pregnant woman as he went for his last check up before his due date still in disbelief at how big and heavy he had gotten.
Matt was going to regret this in the morning but for the moment he was too drunk and to horny in his temporary female body to care.
“I don’t get it, how do you do it? how have you dated so many hot women?” I asked my friend James, after he showed me about 20 pictures of hot women he had slept with. “I know… right? it is like magic” he said. “magic? haha… very funny” I told him, “One day you must really show me how to get a hot girl”. He didn’t answer right away, he just paused, and then smiled, “Well, I wish I could show you, but there is no way you can find out… unless…” he said while getting his phone out “…unless I tape one of the girls, and ask her to tell you how”. That was a weird plan, but I agreed.
I’m scared. I’ve been scared for the last few weeks, ever since I threatened to expose my company’s illicit activities. Back then I was a man, just an ordinary guy working a dead end job who came across some files he wasn’t supposed to see. I should have done the right thing and gone right to the authorities, but instead I tried to blackmail one of the higher ups into giving me a promotion.
That certainly didn’t work. They laughed in my face, and before I even had a chance to reach for my phone, there was a security guard on top of me. It turns out there was a whole lot more going on at the company than what I had discovered. For instance, the R&D department had developed technology that could completely alter a person’s appearance, right down to the contents of their boxer shorts. It makes for a very effective way of making a person disappear without having to worry about a messy murder.
With the flip of a switch, I was transformed into a busty twenty-something with long dark hair, luscious pink lips, and smooth tawny skin; also with no identification, no history, and no credibility if I ever tried to reveal what I had discovered. But they didn’t stop there. Just for good measure, the company threw me on a truck bound for Mexico and left me on the other side of the border. They probably hoped that the streets of Mexico would take care of the murder they didn’t want to dirty their hands with, but so far I’ve managed to survive.
That’s not to say it hasn’t been difficult. At first, just walking with this strange new body was difficult. My balance is all out of whack, and I can barely see my dainty new feet past the giant tits on my chest. Fortunately, I’ve met lots of men who seem eager to help me out. Of course, that how it seems. Like an idiot, I had taken French all through school thinking it would be a good way to pick up chicks. I should have listened to all the advisors who said Spanish would be better for my future. Now I am a chick – the sexy kind that guys seem quite eager to pick up – and I’ve only got body language to communicate.
When the first guy bought me a meal, I knew he’d be looking for some sort of payment. The thought of spreading my legs for another man’s penis was unthinkable for me. I may have been given the body of a woman, but I still knew who I was on the inside. However, I was worried about what would happen if I refused flat out. I resigned myself to doing the second most revolting thing I could think of, but the only thing I knew would keep the help coming. When the swarthy stranger came all over my face, I coughed and sputtered and almost vomited, but the man still seemed pleased, and I had a place to stay for the night.
I move around a lot, repeating the pattern of that first night. Whenever a guy starts suggesting that he wants more than my plump female lips around his cock, I hit the road. After that, it’s a simple matter to find a stranger willing to provide for my needs in exchange for a blowjob. I’ve gotten used to the pungent aroma of a man’s penis, and I know longer freak out when it spews that sticky white fluid. In fact, I can even take an entire load down my throat without gagging, a fact I’m particularly proud of, though I don’t know why . . .
I’m scared – scared of how easily I’ve grown accustomed to this new life. I no longer mind when a guy wants to buy me a sexy new outfit, because I know it’ll help me ensnare the next one. I walk with a sexy strut, swinging my round hips like I’ve been doing it for years, and I’m no longer shocked when stranger stare at my ass as I walk by. And if I’m fully honest, I’m longer revolted at the thought of giving a blow job. I’ve even started to look forward to it. The thing that scares me the most is what I realized right when my tongue tasted the first sweet drop of pre-cum from this stud’s cock: I no longer think of myself as a man. It shouldn’t be that surprising, with my delicate features, swirls of long dark hair, and fleshy tits, together with my provocative clothing, perfect make up, and the cock between my hands. I’m all woman, body and soul. And if this man wants me to spread more than just my lips for his cock, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist.
“I’ve never told anyone my secret” my wife told me. It was weird to hear her say those words when I have been told a only have a few days to live. I didn’t know what to expect, what her secret would be. “You are the first man I am trully in love” she continued, “and I don’t want to lose you. I know how we can be together forever” she said.