#making this my Grindr profile pic

[purgefluidz]

I've been a furry this whole time. Surprise

[daddysropepuppy]

.

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[hunkpossession0]

Stealing my former high school bully’s body was so easyyy. Look, now I am hot, and the best part is that I’m gay.

I leaned back in the plush leather seat of his—no, my—new car, savoring the feeling of power. God, I’d waited so long for this. All those years of torment, the sneers, the shoves into lockers, the homophobic slurs... they were all a distant memory now, fading away like smoke. The only thing that mattered was this body I was now inhabiting, perfectly sculpted and oozing confidence.

I smirked at the reflection in the rearview mirror. His—my—strong jawline, the chiseled features that had made everyone swoon, and those piercing blue eyes that used to look down on me with contempt were now mine to control. And control them I would.

The plan had come to me after a particularly rough night, one too many drinks mixed with the lingering bitterness of my high school years. I’d always been obsessed with the idea of revenge, but not the kind that left scars. I wanted something deeper, more satisfying. I wanted to become him. To live the life he’d never appreciated and do it better.

It wasn’t hard to find a spell. You’d be surprised at how many dark corners of the internet are devoted to body swapping. A few emails, a payment sent in crypto, and a strange-looking amulet later, I was ready. The ritual was simple enough—though it took a lot of concentration. But the moment I slipped it around his neck while he slept, it was over in seconds. I woke up in his bed, in his skin, and he… well, I don’t know where he is now. I like to imagine he’s trapped somewhere, conscious of what’s happening but completely powerless.

The first thing I did was check myself out in the mirror—really take in everything I’d just acquired. This body wasn’t just hot; it was perfect. Years of disciplined workouts, clean eating, and who knows what else had transformed him into someone who looked like they walked straight off a magazine cover.

Actually, make that literally off a magazine cover. I found a stack of fashion magazines under his bed with his stupidly gorgeous face plastered on them. He’d somehow turned his pretty-boy looks and gym rat habits into a full-fledged modeling career. I guess that explained the ridiculous number of selfies on his phone, each one showing off a different outfit or a perfectly timed flex in front of the mirror.

So yeah, I wasn’t giving up the gym. If anything, I was leaning into it. It’s not like I had to do much to maintain this body—he’d already done the hard work, and now I was reaping the benefits. I still hit the gym daily, if only to flex for the mirrors and admire my reflection. The attention I get now is incredible, and the best part is, I can be shameless about it.

Of course, I couldn’t wait to see what Grindr was like from this side of things. Installing the app was the first thing I did once I figured out the password to his phone. The moment I uploaded a shirtless pic, the notifications started rolling in—an endless stream of thirsty messages. Guys were practically lining up for a chance with me, throwing compliments, and I have to admit, I loved every second of it.

I’d spend hours swiping through profiles, chatting up whoever caught my eye. The way people reacted to me now was night and day compared to before. No more awkward small talk, no more second-guessing myself. I could tell someone to meet me at the gym just to watch me lift, and they’d show up without hesitation.

And the best part? I’ve started getting more gigs, just from a few posts on social media showing off his—no, my—body. Modeling agencies are all about that lean muscle, those killer cheekbones, that smirk that could melt anyone on the other end of the camera. He’d never really appreciated what he had, but I’m about to take this career to the next level. I’ve already got a photoshoot lined up for some luxury brand—an easy way to rake in the cash while showing off.

His—my—Instagram is blowing up too. I’m always in the gym, flexing and posting thirst traps for the masses. The likes pour in, and the comments? They’re pure gold. People are practically worshipping me, and I’ve only just begun. This body was wasted on him, but now that it’s mine, I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.

Every time I flex, every time I see a new message pop up on Grindr, it’s a reminder of just how sweet this revenge is. Not only did I take his body, but I’m living his life better than he ever could. I’m hotter, more confident, and finally free to be myself in the best possible way.

This is just the beginning.

[pupmilo-nl]

It was already dark when you turned around the corner of Oak Streat. Normally you'd be miles away, relaxing on uour couch with a nice hot cup of tea before going to bed. You'd never be in the city at this time. And you definitely wouldn't be walking around this neighborhood ... But today you are. It's really unfortunate that the car had to break down, especially after such a long and dreadful day. So when you got a message on grindr asking to hook up and maybe even stay the night you happily said yes.

You finally reached his front door and stopped for a while. Are you sure you're gonna do this? Just crash at a random dudes place? You really needed that place to sleep, and how bad could it be right? His profile had just some photos of his sneaker collection, some sock pics and a picture of his feet. The small parts of him you saw looked promising so it wouldn't be that bad right? The whole sneaker thing was a bit strange but hey, whatever floats your boat.

When you finally got all your thoughts together you rang the bell. It didn't take long for the door to open. A hot guy with the cutest smile ever was standing there, smiling at you and welcoming you in. "Hey! Glad you could find it! And euhh, sorry for still wearing my soccer clothes, didn't had time to shower yet". You definitely knew he was right about the whole no-shower-yet thing ... He was still dripping of sweat and you could have sworn you felt your nose hairs burn. Normally you'd have gagged and ran, but something was different this time. Yeah he reeked, but he radiated a calmness. "Ow that's fine, I'll manage" you responded.

He let you in and you followed him upstairs. "Yeah, sorry for the mess here. I share this place with a couple of other guys and they know how to make a mess... My room should be a bit tidier". Hes was definitely right. His room was relatively big and had not much in it. Just a desk, a closet, a plant and his bed. There was one thing which caught your eye though, his big sneaker collection, stacked up high right above his bed.

"You like them? It took a long time to get that many. I'm very picky you know" He was so right, there were so many! You noticed that seeing them was not the only thing you did... You definitely could smell them too. As he closes the door behind you the smell of humid sweaty sneaksers fills the room. It hits you so hard your eye's start to tear up a little bit.

"yeah sorry for that smell.... They do stink a bit dont they hehe. I like it tho, it remembers me of their former self, euhh previous owners". You were just a tiny bit too occupied by the smell and trying to listen to him that you didn't notice that slip up. "You didn't think I bought them all don't you? That would cost a fortune... No, they were somebody else! Euh somebody else's!"

Somebody else!?!?! What the fck was he talking about? Oh help of course you got the weirdo... Oh well, it's just for a night right? And he's hot as hell! So at least I'll have some fun right? "Hmm you heard that didn't you ... Well, no point of holding back I guess. You see, they did were someone else! I just love wearing hot guys! Hot and cute guys like you! Just like this one!!"

He undid his sneaker and hold it up proudly. You felt the warmth coming from his sneaker and you start to smell the humid air as it slowly fills up the room. You wanted to run. This has been enough... You'll sleep at the bus station or whatever. But instead of moving away your body didn't respond. He slowly moves his sneaker closer to you. As more and more damp air enters your lungs you feel your pants tenting a bit. What!?!? You liked this?!?

"you'll be such a great pair! i just know you will boy! And secretly you know that too! Look at your crotch boy, that tent and wet spot don't lie". He pushed his sneaker to your face and you feel your mind going silent. You know you should stop breathing in this deeply but you just can't help it, it smells so strong, it stinks so bad. It's so good..... You sniff deeper and deeper, sealing your fate

TF captions made by a friend ☺️

[drdemonprince]

“Grindr for straight people”-guy here again: Thank you for your honest answer. A follow-up question: Would my chances for hookups be better if I’m willing to have sex with anyone with a vagina, no matter the gender? So trans guys, trans women with vaginas, nonbinary folks, etc.? I’m pretty certain that I’m pansexual (I just haven’t had any sexual experiences with other people), and I would of course not treat any such person as “woman light” or something similarly stupid.

As I understand it from reading some of your previous posts, Grindr is nowadays open for people of any gender, so maybe I should give it a shot (ahem), even if I’m not looking for cis gay men?

(I’m genuinely sorry if anything I’ve written is poorly worded or disrespectful in any way.)

There are many people like you on Grindr these days. I would avoid advertising yourself as looking for people with vaginas specifically, as that will make folks feel uncomfortable and reduced to parts, but you can absolutely explore the grid and message the people that interest you, and confirm genitals during negotiations or by exchanging pics.

Alternatively (and I recommend this), you can focus on the ACTIVITIES you want to engage in, rather than anatomy. That works a lot better. If you love eating pussy, say that; if you like topping front holes, say that. It lands a lot better and is more precise than screening for bodies first and activities second.

Be respectful, understand you will get attention from cis men and learn to turn that down graciously, and dont make a big deal about trans people being trans and you should be fine. Read profiles, observe how others in the space act, take lessons from how others respond to you, and you'll figure it out. Have fun!

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

There's so many twinks and not enough bears in this area. Can you turn me into the thick hairy leather bear of my dreams? You can twist it however you want, have fun with it.

I agree. There aren’t enough bears. I’m glad to have you willing join the ranks. And since you mentioned there being sooo many twinks I can only deduce that you are one of them yourself.

But it’s time to kiss that body goodbye as you join the snake insular masculinity. You Anna picture in the mirror flexing your abs. There are so many twinks in your area it’s not even worth loading the pic to your Grindr account. Putting your phone down you can’t help but feel a wave of heat hit you all at once as your pits being a swamp and your feet begin to pool sweat on the floor. Looking back in the mirror you see a thick. Almost black 5 o clock shadow forming on your face while your brow bone thickens. Your hair becomes shorter and wind. Untamable as it becomes jet black. Your stagger back. Not sure what to think but then you feel it. Swelling. You look down seeing yourself tented at a full 8 inches in your underwear but your stomach is pushing outwards. Abs disappearing as you see your own member slowly but surely disappearing from view as your cock is swallowed in a fat pad. Making it 6inches long. And that’s when hard. Being a bear you didn’t think you would lose your cock length but it’s worth it. You begin rubbing your stomach as you feel the weight setting on your back and you have to lean on the wall for support. Your chest puffs out and says slightly as the fat continues to build on your frame and your arms loose all definition as the fat grows in. Even your legs fatter along with your thighs as your feet get thicker. Taking your from a size 11 to a size 14 1/2 wide. And I mean WIDE. The 5 oclock shadow in your face had grown into a full on beard now. So thick you’re not even sure you can shave it. Guess what tho… you can’t. It will grow back instantly. Thicker. And bigger than before every time you do that. And your body now begins to go through another change. Hair sprouting on ever once of your body. Making your sweaty work as the hair begins to get sticky and wet with all the heat you’re putting off. Soon your back is covered and connects with the front like a full carpet. Stretching down all the way to your toes in an unbroken pelt of thick back fur. The last change happens to your face…your eyes specifically. Making you squint all the time. Is it out of anger ? Horniness? No one can tel as you’re the epitome of a beat now. Your grinder profile has updated automatically to match this new bearish form you have and you hear your phone blowing up. You shoot to attention immediately in your underwear. Sweating even more just to add to the musky you’re putting off. Hungrily you begin to respond to all the thinks your new member demands you plow. You’re never going to be alone again. You’re curse to unable to be sexually satiated. You’ll always want more. Harder. Rougher. And of course. You’re the top for good now in this big musky bear of a body you now have. Welcome to the top of the food chain.

[fictitiouswanderings]

Grinder, What A Place

Viktor hasn’t gotten laid in a while, so to quell the stoking fire in his gut he goes to Grindr to find someone suitable to his fulfill his needs.

It was a lazy saturday afternoon when Viktor opened up his phone, he usually ignored it but today he was on a mission. Get laid.

He scrolled a little on twitter, and checked his email before he opened up his apps on his phone and scrolled down.

Grindr. The one place you could find a quick lay.

Its almost immediately as he opens the app that he gets a message and he rolls his eyes, its an add thankfully and not someone sending a dick pic. Though it isnt long that those start popping up as well.

He continues to scroll through his immediate options, looking at the various profiles when one catches his eye.

The man in the photo is chinseled, looking sweaty in some gym shorts with a towel around his shoulders, his line of his dick clearly visible in those delecatable shorts.

His profile says:

Jayce, 26, exercise coach. Looking for a good time? Let me show you one ;9

Viktor finds his mouth salivating a little and he opens up the chat to find a message has been sent already.

“Hey cutie” it says

Viktor is taken aback a little but responds nontheless.

“Hey handsome, looking to take someone for a ride?”

A little bubble appears as Jayce begins typing back and Viktors heart feels like its racing. He looks through Jayce’s other photos, each one of them he’s shirtless and glistening with sweat and Viktor begins to wonder what it tastes like.

“Your place or mine?” The bubble finally pops up and Viktor types back “mine”.

He sends his address to this perfect stranger and gets an eta of 30 mins before he’ll be over. His heart races and he begins furiously cleaning up his messy room throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and straightening his desk. He even makes his bed out of sheer nervousness. It has been a while since he last slept with anyone or anyone had been over in general. He mostly kept to himself and used his own hands when needed.

30 minutes pass quickly and Viktor decided to change into something a little more luxurious, a purple velvet nighty lined with gold lace. A knock comes to his door and he quickly gets up and limps over with his cane, he peeks out the peephole before opening it, making sure its who hes expecting.

Jayce stands waiting as his door creaks open. He has flowers in his hands and waits to be invited in.

“V?” He asks.

Viktor nods, “Jayce i presume?” And Jayce nods in return, thrusting out the flowers for him.

Viktor takes them with surprise and leads them into his apartment.

“You look wonderful” Jayce says complimenting Viktor and Viktor cant help but flush a little bit. He puts the flowers in a container and fills it with water.

“Thank you for the flowers, do you do this for every guy you fuck?”

“No, just the cute ones” Jayce grins and winks at him.

Viktor rolls his eyes a little but smiles nonetheless.

“Well do we want to get on with it or..” Viktor asks

“What are your pronouns?” Jayce interrupts and Viktor’s eyebrow shoots up in question. “ he,him, but i was born afab”

Jayce nods a little, “and how do you refer to..” his eyes trail down Viktors figure, undressing him.

“My pussy?” Viktor questions.

“Yeah” Jayce responds.

“Pussy, Vagina, Clit or Cock” Viktor suddenly says feeling a little relieved the other even asked. He wasnt used to this, he was used to a quick to the point fuck.

“Can I eat your pussy?” Jayce suddenly asks and Viktor feels his loins throb, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter and Jayce drops to his knees infront of him. Jayce looks up at him through thick eyelashes, as if pleading with him to take off his underwear, his hands at either side of them.

“You may take them off” Viktor says and Jayce is slowly pulling down the thong that accompanied his nightgown.

Jayce wastes no time pressing his face up against Viktors wet sex, burying his nose in his pubes and licking at his clit.

“haahhhh~” Viktor whines, he brings a hand up to his mouth to quiet himself and Jayce looks up at him pausing his ministrations.

“I want to hear you” he says before making his way back down, sucking at his clit.

Viktor doesnt really have neighbors to speak of so he removes his hand from his mouth and lets his moans be heard.

Jayce is an expert with his mouth, and the noises that both come from Viktor’s body and his mouth are wonderfully welcomed to Jayce, his dick throbbing in his shorts.

He continues to eat Viktor out until he shakes on his tongue, Viktor’s hands finding purchase in his hair, tugging gently.

“G-gonna make me c-cum” Viktor whines out and Jayce sucks all the more eagarly. He pulls harder at Jayce’s hair and rides his face feeling the much needed release wash over him. Jayce continues until Viktor pulls him away, too sensitive to continue. His knees buckle a little and Jayce quickly catches him, steadying him.

Viktor looks down at Jayce and the mess on his face and cant help but smile a little stupidly, still a little dazed from his orgasm.

Jayce smiles back up at him and wipes his face, licking his fingers. Viktor flushes a little.

“Arent you a dirty dog”

Jayce just grins, his dick twitching with interest.

He starts to kiss at the moles at Viktor’s thighs.

“Why dont we move this to the bedroom?” Viktor asks and Jayce stands up to follow him. Viktor takes him by the hand and leads him back to his bed, gently laying down on it and beckoning Jayce over.

Jayce englufs all of Viktor as he lays over him, he kisses at his neck and slots a leg between his thighs. His bulge grinds up against Viktor’s leg and he shudders.

“We can get right to it you know” Viktor says but Jayce ignores him, kissing down his neck instead and down to his blouse.

Viktor cant help how wet hes getting, between Jayce already getting him off and his kissing, he squirms under him. Jayce grinds against him and Viktor lets out a little whimper.

Jayce slowly moves the straps of his blouse down and pulls the whole thing down. He stares at Viktors top surgery scars before he rubs his fingers against them before moving up and tweaking his nipples.

Viktor cries out and arches his back.

“I want to make you feel good” Jayce says before taking a perky nipple into his mouth.

“I-i want you to fuck my pussy” Viktor says, his legs shaking a little again.

Jayce nips at his nipple again a little before pulling away. He moves off the bed to pull his shirt and shorts off and Viktor cant help his eyes watch Jayce’s dick bounce once released from the fabric. Jayce grins a little, eating up the attention. He crawls back to Viktor on the bed and grabs his legs carefully pulling them up. He leans down to kiss him and slowly starts pushing in at the same time.

Viktor moans against his lips, he wasn’t expecting the other to be so thick and yet his pussy was eating him up completely. Jayce stopped once he was fully engulfed by him and waits a moment before he begins to move. At first hes slow, but he picks the pace up until hes feverishly pounding Viktor into the bedsheets.

Viktor is a whining moaning mess but when Jayce’s thick dick pounds against his cervix he keens. He can’t help himself. Jayce is thrusting roughly into him and Viktor grabs at the sheets beneath them.

“I wanna fuck you full of my cum” Jayce says through a soft growl and Viktor cant help himself.

“Cum in me Jayce!” He nearly screams, his own orgasm coiling in on him for the second time that night.

Jayce thrusts hard against Viktor’s cervix again and stops as he lets out a low groan and cums, filling the other deliciously.

“Fuck your pussy is so tight” Jayce groans. “It feels so good” he begins to rock back and forth a little, his semi-soft dick getting a little hard again. Viktor is surprised to feel him getting hard again in him but welcomes it, most of his previous partners could only go one round before tiring or worrying that hed tire, but Viktor was feeling a bit insatiable.

“How are you feeling, i can stop if you want”

“No-please dont” is all Viktor can get out before Jayce is positioning him on his side, holding his good leg up and fucking into him again.

Jayce puts all of himself into fucking Viktor and by the time they reach orgasm together they are covered in sweat. Jayce lays next to him, not bothering to pull out and just holds him as they catch their breath. Viktor reaches down to his stomach and presses a palm down and Jayce groans a little. Viktor cant help but chuckle a little.

Slowly Jayce pulls out of him and gets up.

“Where do you keep washcloths?”

“By the bathroom, theres a small closet” he points and Jayce makes his way over, grabbing a couple washcloths and wetting them before returning and handing one over to Viktor. He cleans himself up before he pulls his boxers and shorts back on.

“Are you a cuddler?” Jayce asks as Viktor cleans himself up.

“Not normally…” Viktor responds “but ill take some from you” he says and Jayce is back in the bed pulling him close. Viktor lays his head on Jayce’s chest and listens to his heart thrum. His skin is so warm and he cant help but cuddle a bit closer.

“If you want i can give you my number” Jayce says into his hair, “id like to see you again”

Viktor quickly grabs his phone from the side table and Jayce lets out a soft laugh. He takes it from Viktor and dials his number, hanging up and saving it into his contacts. Viktor sets his phone back on the side table and sighs a little moving back into Jayce’s arms.

After a while Jayce eventually gets up and grabs his shirt, pulling it back on. “Well i should probably get out of here” he says and Viktor nods. Jayce sees himself out and Viktor eventually gets up and locks the door.

He lets himself slump against the door, holding his phone when he gets a text.

“C u l8r cutie”

[caesarandthecity]

The Date Game: Olympic Sport or Minefield?

Dating, darling, is it an art or a game? And if it's a game, shouldn't it be an Olympic sport? Just picture it: all the guys I've dated, competing for the gold medal in... well, we'll get to that. But first, let's talk about the rules (or lack thereof).

Every game has rules, right? They make things more fun, more challenging, and help you understand the goal. But dating, my sweet summer children, has ZERO rules. It's like being dropped in the middle of the ocean with a blindfold and a paddleboard.

I have yet to receive a rulebook for the GAME, the game of love. (Is that even what we're playing?)

I don't know about you, but I don't think people go on dates to find love. In my experience, it's more about finding someone who isn't a total nutjob, a psycho, or a cheater (that last one is harder to spot than a fake Rolex).

Gay dating, in particular, is two guys trying to out-impress each other with the same, tired lies. During the date, everyone's Mr. Perfect: zero baggage, amazing exes, no drug problems, mental health? Aced it! Workaholic, but with a heart of gold. It all sounds too good to be true... and honey, it usually is.

Social media is partly to blame. We're all curating our "perfect" lives online, and some people are taking that facade offline. I've met guys who are living their Instagram fantasy IRL, and let me tell you, it's exhausting.

But that's not even the worst part. The thing that really gets me is that dating feels like a never-ending job interview. Think about it:

I apply for the job: Based on my carefully curated profile pics and witty bio.

I'm randomly selected for an interview: If my pics are cute enough and my bio doesn't sound like a serial killer's manifesto.

I go to the interview: AKA the date, where I put on my best performance and hope they don't notice I'm wearing Spanx.

Now, here's where it gets different: If I don't get the job, I'm still open to a little "consolation prize" (if you catch my drift). In the real world, you don't sleep with your HR manager after a failed interview. But in the dating game? Anything goes.

So yes, I downloaded Tinder, took some flattering selfies, and crafted a bio that would make Shakespeare jealous. And you know what? It's been... interesting. Expect a full report in my next post, including tales of awkward Grindr encounters, unexpected hookups, and maybe even a happy ending (or two).

Ps. We're in 2024—can we normalize sex on the first date (or soon after)? Why is this still taboo? Sex is important in any relationship, romantic or otherwise, and it's weird that we don't talk about it more openly. Let's be real, we need to talk about sex, learn about it, and teach it without shame or judgment. This starts with looking inward and seeing our lives (and desires) with fresh eyes. Sex isn't dirty or ugly; it's a natural form of energy and connection. I want to know if the person I'm dating matches my energy in all ways, including sexually. 

Stay tuned, my loves! And remember, always swipe right for yourself first.

Cheers,

Caesar

[trans-femme-fag-dyke]

T4T sEggs Cracking

Sex changes when you transition as a t-girl. New realities come into focus. New turn-ons emerge. A world of novel psychological and physiological experiences are added to the mix, or replace it entirely. Hormones and their impact terraform the ecology into a mycelial divine feminine, replete with new pleasure pathways. In short, it is wild and beautiful, feral and oozing with potential.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was how transfiguring the experience of T4T sex would be. Not by a mile.

Degrading Glorification

(What follows is a dual narrative, embellished and made whole by my lover’s own description of our tryst, which may I tell you is really fucking hot. Anyone who finds discovery and meaning in the process of writing has my attention and, most likely, my lust).

Just another day on Grindr receiving unsolicited dick pic after dick pic from people who ignore my profile’s clear insistence on T4T only.

While I don’t avail myself of these opportunities, there is something to be said for the euphoria that comes from being seen by cishets as a girl. Even seeing me as an attractive t-girl, if they’re purely fetishizing that tribal identifier, doesn’t hurt. Having spent too many years in the closet as a boy-modular gay, I am immune to the aggression of those advances and treat it more like a research project, tagging each new appendage into its relevant mental taxonomy: thick, thin, black, white, clean, cum-covered, veiny, etc. Back in the day, these advances were perfectly acceptable — direct, to the point, like the hawking of wares in a saturated meat market. I was less interested in what they were attached to as I was in their function. Emotion and personality were cast aside.

As a t-girl, though, there is a crossing of the privilege divide into an East Berlin of fear and insecurity. Too often, and too unpublicized, are the examples of anti-trans violence that it’s simply not the same fuck economy that it used to be. And anyway, my orientation has changed.

Orientation shift in transition is a topic that could command an entire thesis, so I won’t go into it here. Suffice it to say that almost overnight, as the estrogen moved through my body, I lost my interest in gay or straight men. Perhaps because being with a gay guy, although still on the table before secondary sex characteristics set in and I could stealthily navigate those penetrations, would send a dysphoric signal deep into my programming.

I find myself attracted to trans energy mostly.

Grindr is a numbers game in Los Angeles. There’s so much flakiness you become accustomed to being ignored or conversations end abruptly. Not to mention that hooking up here is so governed by travel times which fluctuate wildly throughout the days asymmetrical commuting times, that the whole affair can be a non-started at the outset.

But she responded. Glorious brunette, with long wavy hair, small pursed lips and an aloofness that immediately activated my pathological desire of the emotionally unavailable. What can I say, my mother fucked me up.

She — let’s call her Adeline — lived about 10 minutes away, so in an abundance of well-heeled politeness cut with impatient lust, I went to pick her up.

Cue the usual slightly coy banter as we both worked each other out during the ride. The dissipation of fear which comes with these Grindr “dates” for traps, which always carry a soupçon of terror to them and see us scrambling to etch a last will and testament into our iPhone notes app and share location with friends as it plays out.

I emerged from the bathroom topless.

Oh fuck, she thought, nipple piercings. The most physical symbol of deviance there is.

We started making out on the sofa and immediately some force took a hold of me. I felt like our bodies were fusing inside a blacksmith’s forge. We were glitching like a hacked mainframe, opening up its secrets to Snowden’s deft digital lock-picking. We were like people who hadn’t eaten in days set loose on a Vegas buffet.

I ran my hands over her back and through her hair, interlocking my teeth around her neck and ears. Almost epileptic in spasms of uncontrollable, uncensored I searched for my frontal cortex and managed to articulate that we should move to the bedroom.

My friend S had told me to expect fireworks in my first T4T experience. Their look of both shock and empathetic excitement registered on their FaceTime framed face.

They hinted at the dynamic’s incendiary force with an elliptical smile, leaving me hanging like a teaser trailer.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something to that energy, that vibe. I’m so excited for you. Like fucking excited!”

And Jesus fucking christ, they were right. I can see why they held off on the detail. Language fails.

We made our way to the bedroom where I revealed my kink drawer. There’s a cornucopia of debauchery in this unassuming pine wood piece of furniture: masks, paddles, leashes, collars, nipple clamps and floggers.

We negotiated our limits, settling on consensual non-consent. In short, anything goes.

We couldn’t have been more perfectly matched. When she initially shared photos with me on the app she gave a trigger warning around the bruises I’d see. It just so happened that impact play and relishing in the blues, browns, yellows and purples of corporeal graffiti aftermath was something we shared.

“I don’t care if you draw blood,” I assured her.

“Well ok then, you pathetic little slut,” she hissed, “lay the fuck down.”

I hadn’t fully anticipated how rapidly she would turn on the sadistic domme energy and I didn’t question it. I couldn’t.

Mmmmmmmmm, mama’s hungry, I thought as my crotch began to throb.

I don’t need to pull my punches, she thought, I can really indulge this deeper cruelty in me.

“Yes, mistress!” I responded, getting into role as the slut spit dump I’d soon become.

I lay down.

“Open wide, slut,” she ordered as she spat on my face, all the while positioning her mouth over mine and dribbling long translucent threads of drool onto my tongue and down my throat. She lunged for my neck with lupine grace and hunger, digging her teeth in and unleashing eddies of dopamine and oxytocin. I could feel the fledgling bruises on my neck and knew they’d be difficult to hide but at this point she could have pushed a blade into my lungs and I’d have kissed her while the blood bubbled out of my mouth.

These were feelings I had never felt before.

It was like all my shame, low self-esteem, trauma, alienation, anxiety and isolation channeled a lightning strike turning sand into clear shards of luminescent glass.

It felt both individual and collective, all ruptures and salvation of minority stressed gender fuckery, raining down and being soaked up. An effervescent tribal alchemy of ecstatic release.

The power of consensual degradation cannot be underestimated. I took years of being trodden down by things beyond my control. The abuse of my mother, the deprivation of affection, the laundering of all currencies of love through a front of cold calculation. All of this turned to steam through the act of my submitting to it with someone who also made me vibrate with light. All of those times when I had no fucking say in what happened to me, as humanity depriving as it was and violently unfair, I now took back. I resignified it, reclaimed it, decolonized and liberated it.

She attached the leash to my collar and yanked me onto the floor.

“If you’re a good girl, you’ll get a treat.” She said sternly, with the consummate control of a well-etched domme.

Up until now, she’d only really experimented with this role but now, she leapt up into the saddle ready for battle. From where I crouched, lapping up her girl dick with such an eagerness to please, it felt like she’d been doing this all her life.

In the dawn of her 20s, this girl came with a level of sexual confidence and experience that can only be found in trans circles. It’s like our bodies are always searching for each other with odyssean ardor. Simultaneous electrons suspended in tandem states.

I clambered back onto the bed like a dog and she straddled me, our girl dicks entwined in her hand with a vibrator in between. Edging, foreplay, the beautiful mirage of the female orgasm which rises and falls, ebbs and flows, coming into focus then going blurry as the mind and the body speaks in foreign tongues.

It was the kind of sex you never want to end. Constant punishment, submission, bratty deliberate misbehavior, retaliation, good behavior and treats.

“You told me you were going to cum you fucking whore. Well, are you?!” she cursed.

“Fuck my pussy, mistress. I need something in me so I can cum for you.”

One, two, then three fingers entered me as she celebrated my gaping hole.

“I love how loose you are.”

Ugh, I felt so seen. I’ve been trying to make my ass loose for years. It’s been one of my sexual north stars. I want to be able to get entire cities inside me. Until my neo-puzzy arrives, my ass has been my pussy substitute and I’ve wanted her to stretch until my bud becomes labia and turns from circle into that canal like corridor of floral ingress.

It didn’t take long, with my ass full of her hand, and I reached that liquidless trap climax and lay there panting, dripping in spit, sweat, and a sense of sexed gender euphoria I had waited 39 years to feel.

Who knew that in order to feel my most beautiful, it would take this level of degradation.

We languished, dripping in sweat and overtaken by an exhaustion which was held in abeyance by the relentless motor of sex.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to do that again,” I said, with the last remaining energy and breath left in me.

“We might not be able to. I’m probably moving to Berlin in a few weeks,” she responded with a signature level of matter-of-factness and regret.

Afterword

This is a post from Threads that resonated with me.

@aspirationaltea I think this post is me realizing T4T lesbian is the full explanation of my sexuality at least?

That’s how I walked away from the experience with Adeline. Literally and figuratively changed forever. In one fell swoop a single lover had the power to make me feel seen for the first time in my life.

Now of course any first time has the potential to carry the hyperbole of its impact. But the water that slacks the thirst of the desert stranded is the exact same water we all drink. The difference, however, is life saving.

I would usually chalk up an experience without more penetration as fun but not fulfilling. In this scene I had a few fingers inside me for a few minutes. And yet I lost all sense of time and place, sinking into the experience like feet in clittoral sand.

It was pure T4T lesbian sex, as much connection, edging and build as it was a wham bam teleology. The purpose was communion and connection.

T4T sex transfigures and transubstantiates the entire experience into a physical act. Inside every bite, kiss, spit, yank, finger and curse, was a microcosm of the entire experience of trans identity. Eucharist anointed trap fantasy.

Our shared struggles, estrogen shortages, dirty glances turned our way, rejections. Our alignments, the joyful tears t-girls shed over the smallest things as their emotional synapses reinitiate, our first sports bra. Everything is there, unspoken but enacted ritualistically like the world is burning all around us and we carry on regardless. Which is, alas, what it feels like a lot of the time.

At the core of the experience was the abiding sense of safety which comes from being intimate with someone who knows how important it is to cultivate that in as many spaces, few though they may be, as possible.

In addition, the dimension of kink/BDSM brings its own magnetic locus of individuation and resignification. We find submission, abjectification, degradation, and pain paired up with consent, control, compassion, negotiation, communication, and transcendence. We recontextualize experiences which in every other life domain are precursors or consequences of socially aberrant behavior or undesirable hierarchical role playing.

Whether the sub is in control or the dom is, just as with tops and bottoms, is a question for the ages. The person under the thumb, in so allowing it, arguably possesses some power over the person they artificially and consensually elevate to that position. When you have nothing to lose because you have relinquished it, you can only be net positive existentially.

The point is the horizontal socialism of the trans lesbian experience. No one person controls. All are equal and the roleplay is merely an enactment of the end of dominion by external forces.

For what baits the enemy like getting back on your feet or smiling in their face? As blood streams out of your nostrils and you turn to face your captor ready for another beating, you demonstrate an unwavering faith in the ultimate form of the Golden Rule: if your enemy strikes you, turn the other cheek and ask, “Have I been a good girl, Mistress?”

[relenafanel]

threadfic posted to my bsky last week

[find here] as always, it's formatted to fit the character limit so probably flows weirdly as a block of text.

As always, author is 3 dick jokes in a trenchcoat. This is my oeuvre.

⋆˙⟡ —

modern au - comphet / oblivious wwx who is going through life blissfully unaware that he’s 1. into men, and 2. specifically super into lwj 🔞

⋆˙⟡ —

Sure, if asked he’d admit to being a 1 or 2 on the Kinsey scale because everyone is a little bi - you know?

but he doesn’t feel actionable about it 

Then he gets his huge slap in the face moment.

Is it because someone convinces him? No (and they have tried). Is it because he realizes his feelings for lwj? Also no.

It’s while he’s watching porn.

It would make sense if it happened early on in his porn watching journey but it does not. He’s had his account for a decade at least, is almost hitting his 30s himself. He’s been watching every video released by the same pornstar for 3 of those years and never questions it because he likes the guy.

Not LIKES likes but he‘s comfortable with him and enjoys his content. It never fails to get him off. It is, he assumes, based on how he interacts with his female partners.

Until the day he gets a notification for a new video and the partner is another man.

If there’s one thing about wwx he’s not squeamish but this situation is testing his resolve. There have been a few threesomes so maybe this is just the start of one of those? 

He deliberately doesn’t check the content description. He likes the uncertainty, he decides. It’s all about the surprise.

And oh boy is he surprised. But not by the sudden late arrival of a woman. No! He’s surprised that he doesn’t need the woman to get off, because it was always about the man. 

And fuck!!

Is he gay!!!

Did he figure out he was gay via porn!!! Like a 14 yr old or an extremely closeted middle aged man!!!

Oh god is he the extremely closeted middle aged man??? He's only 29😭

It’s ok! He can figure this out! Less intelligent people before him have figured out their sexuality, surely he can at least decide if he’s bisexual or what!

He should download Grindr!

He’s halfway to dling the app before he realizes that’s the nuclear option. He doesn’t want to sleep with them! He just wants to figure out if they’re hot. 

Then he shrugs and does it anyway.

“Is Grindr one of those apps that shows you matches based on location?” He asks Lan Zhan at brunch the next morning. “Cause you might see my account.”

lwj very slowly lowers his phone and looks at him.

“I’m just trying to get unsolicited dick pics.”

“Why?”

“For science!!” wwx says! “Hey do you think that rate my dick site still exists?”

“Science,” lwj echoes and looks poleaxed. 

“Yeah,” wwx says cheerfully just as lwj is taking a drink of his tea. “The science of figuring out how into the dicks I am.”

lwj chokes.

Aww shit. wwx is never going to convince him that meal time is talking time again. 

But he’s curious now. He knows lwj sometimes uses the app. He can’t imagine what for. Maybe putting together a bookclub? Bc surely lwj doesn’t just fuck people??? 

What does his profile look like? What pictures does he use? What does it say? What thirst traps could a man like lwj use? looking like that?

He picks up his phone and starts browsing. 

And finds it almost immediately. 

That’s lwj’s sofa. That’s lwj’s silk robe. That’s the edge of the matching sun tattoo he talked a drunk lwj into in uni. 

Fuck.

Fuckfuck. Abort. 

He can feel his face flushing, the heat crawling down his spine and settling in his gut. There’s some artful angles and draping going on and he’s not looking closely!! He doesn’t want his brain to even try interpreting that!! 

He 🔥&⭐️s lwj’s profile and goes to exit, but before he can he gets a dm in the app. He opens it (IN PUBLIC) and comes eyes to dick with the most glorious dick in the most familiar setting.

It’s the same picture as lwj’s profile, just significantly less artful draping and a whole lot more nudity.

“As requested,” lwj says, mild and unbothered.

And wwx is bothered ok!! He doesn’t know what’s fucking happening. That’s a whole lot of dick. He feels like he’s staring at a Rorschach test that at some point is going to reveal itself as a smaller dick.

It doesn’t.

He lets out a sound like a whistling teapot and slams his phone face down on the table so he doesn’t have to look at it. It’s just seared into his eyeballs but whatever. 

lwj looks mildly amused by the time wwx meets his eyes again, likely witnessing his entire face journey. 

“I’ve decided I’m done with this experiment,” he says in a haughty tone.

“inconclusive?”

“No. It’s conclusive.”

He’s super into Lan Zhan, specifically.

Suddenly, he’s just really exhausted. “I’ve got to go. You’ve got the bill, right er-ge?”

lwj stops looking amused. Wwx feels like a jerk for that because he likes it when lwj is amused at his expense. He just can't be at the same table as him and actually think, and he needs to THINK

lwj has texted by the time he gets home.

lwj: I apologize. I’d been under the impression that was what you asked for.

IT WAS! That was the problem! He’d asked to figure out his shit and he’d figured out too much!

wwx: it’s not your fault

wwx: you have a nice dick 10/10.

wwx: that’s the problem 

lwj: that it’s nice?

wwx: fuck

wwx: it’s not nice. It looks mean. 

lwj: ah.

He’s silent for a moment. wwx stares at his phone willing lwj to say something. What does ah mean??

lwj: you may need to broaden your search parameters. Do not make a conclusion based on such a small sample size.

SMALL? lmao.

Wait. What did that mean.

wwx: ????

lwj: do not dismiss your experiment just because you did not enjoy my picture.

What????

WWX hit the video chat button.

lwj answers immediately, frowning into the camera. His frown deepens as wwx laughs. 

“I enjoyed it!” he finally manages to say. “I just needed to think about that. Ruminate. Freak out a little.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, I will speak with you about it tomorrow.”

that's a lot of pressure to put on someone. "we could just fuck about it," he offers instead.

"Yes, we could do that." lwj agrees.

(and they do)

(and honestly probably also speedrun a relationship and marriage)

[fin]

⋆˙⟡ — SHARE ⋆˙⟡ — FOLLOW ⋆˙⟡ —

[barbatusart]

it's so fucking funny to me how hard you're trying to make cazador sexy to yourself like i barklaughed at both pics when they came up on my dash. that being said i'm also laughing at myself because i feel nothing for his model but that second drawing had me sweating a bit.

I JUST WANNA SEE IF I CAN LIKE PUT HIM THROUGH ANY KIND OF KALEIDOSCOPE THAT MAKES ME oh hey ABOUT THE GUY EVEN A LITTLE BIT BUT HES TOO MUCH OF A MORON CLOWN LMAO. all the attempts though even if they dont inspire those feelings in me have been absolutely cracking me up LOL so im definitely getting a different kind of solid enjoyment out of drawing his grindr profile snaps

[beardaddybison]

Finally you'd moved out of your dad's house. Finally you had a place without his overbearing presence. And finally you could have people over without his constant scrutiny. It helped that your roommate was never home, so when you made your Grindr account, you could smugly add that you could host.

Your inbox blows up immediately. You sort through all of the horny guys begging for a chance to fuck you, and settle on a few older men. You'd always had a thing for that salt and pepper look, the five o'clock shadow or even full beard, the big guys who could manhandle you of they wanted. One in particular stands out, though like many it has no profile picture.

He's engaging in conversation, which is rare, and seems kind and respectful. Not to mention that dick pic he sent; your mouth is already drooling. He tells you he's very much DL (not surprising) , and even asks you to wear a blindfold. Eventually, after sharing every filthy degenerate fantasy you've had, you get up the nerve to send your location.

He was very clear in his instructions (which turned you on even more, your cunt is practically dripping now). "I want you on your knees in front of your bed. Blindfold on, restraints on, and your mouth open. Understand?" You happily agreed. You found some restraints easy enough to slip on (and out of in case it didn't go well), your blindfold, and quickly stripped. By the time your front door opens, your blood is pumping.

You quickly get into position, blinded and restrained, and kneel down in front of your bed. Your door opens. Heavy footsteps walk up to you. He doesn't say anything, and you hear his zipper come undone. You happily open your mouth. Expecting a slow approach of his thick cock, you're taken by surprise by what he does next.

His cock, thick and hard and straining your jaw, is shoved into your mouth and against the back of your throat. He doesn't seem to care that you told him you were inexperienced with deepthroating. You try to make a noise of protest, but both of his hands grab your head and he thrusts forward. His thick cock presses into your throat and you try to suppress a gag. Maybe you should get out of these restraints so you can tap his leg or something.

"So my son's a cocksucking faggot, huh?"

Your heart plummets. You know that voice.

"Is this what you want, boy?"

You squirm, trying to shake your head, trying to dislodge the cock that's now almost fully down your throat. You sputter and drool, but his grip is strong.

"If you're going to be some dirty slut, then you're going to be mine," your dad says, thrusting the last bit of his cock past your lips and grinding your face against his bush. "No one else's. You understand?"

This is wrong. You're still in shock. Dad? How did he find you?

"That's a good boy," he says, patting your head, and you realize you're not trying to squirm away anymore. You haven't slipped out of your restraints. And... god... your cunt is throbbing.

"Now let Dad teach you how to be a good cocksleeve for me."

[hunkpossession0]

**Found this personal trainer on Insta, I chatted a lil bit with him, and now I got his body. Poor him.**

It all started with a late-night scroll through Instagram. You know how it goes—one minute you’re just browsing, and the next, you’re sucked into the world of fitness models and personal trainers, each more jacked than the last. That’s when I found *him*.

This guy was perfection in human form. Towering height, muscles that looked like they were chiseled from stone, and a face that screamed confidence. The guy even rocked a thick, perfectly groomed mustache that somehow made him look even more masculine. His profile was full of workout tips, nutrition advice, and those motivational posts that usually make me roll my eyes. But something about him had me hooked.

“Man, if I had that body,” I muttered to myself, almost jokingly. But then the thought took hold. *What if*?

I shot him a DM, asking for some beginner tips—playing the part of the clueless newbie. To my surprise, he replied almost instantly, eager to help. We went back and forth for a bit, him giving advice and me pretending to be interested, while I worked on something far more… *ambitious*.

As we chatted, I tapped into an ability I’d been perfecting—a way to connect with someone on a deeper level. To reach out and *take* what was theirs. He had no idea that while he was busy explaining how to start on squats and deadlifts, I was making a connection that would change everything.

And then, with one final push, I felt it—the shift.

Suddenly, I wasn’t lounging on my bed anymore. I was standing in a gym, holding his phone in his hand, feeling the weight of his massive arms, the strength in his legs. I flexed one arm, watching as the muscles bulged, hard and defined, beneath the skin. My heart pounded with excitement and something else… an overwhelming sense of power.

I took a deep breath, my chest expanding with muscles that weren’t mine just a moment ago. I was in *his* body now, and damn, did it feel good. The thick mustache above my lip twitched as I grinned at my reflection in the mirror, marveling at how it suited this face, this body. I ran a hand over it, feeling the rough bristles that added an extra layer of ruggedness to this perfect form.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, my voice deep and resonant. *His* voice. My voice now.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—*his* pocket, I reminded myself—and I pulled it out to see a flood of missed notifications. But those could wait. The first thing I did was block my old account. Whoever was stuck in my former body wouldn’t be getting any help from me. They’d just have to deal with the shock of being… *me* now.

Meanwhile, across town, I could only imagine the horror and confusion on my former face as the realization hit. That once-comfortable body now felt alien, weak in comparison to what I had now. But I couldn’t waste time worrying about him—this was about me, about *living* in this body, and I intended to enjoy every second of it.

I turned back to the mirror, running my hands over my chest and abs, flexing just to watch the muscles ripple under the skin. God, I looked good. My new body felt hot, practically humming with energy, with a need I’d never felt before. The gym suddenly seemed smaller, like it couldn’t contain everything I was feeling.

An idea popped into my head, and I pulled out his phone again, quickly downloading Grindr. It didn’t take long to set up a profile—one of his shirtless pics as the main image, of course. The matches started rolling in almost immediately, the phone buzzing nonstop.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the screen. I shot a message to a couple of nearby guys, already knowing where this night was headed. The gym could wait—there were other ways to test out this body, and I was eager to explore *all* of them.

Back in that old, weak body, the poor guy was probably still staring at his reflection in disbelief, trying to figure out what had happened. But that was his problem now. I had bigger, better things to do—starting with enjoying every inch of this perfect new body. The thick mustache tickled my upper lip as I grinned wider, anticipation flooding my veins.

This was going to be fun.

[maletofujoshi]

so i downloaded grindr out of curiosity and made an account that is completely Blank without a name or photos with the only information on it being my age because i forgot to hide that. i just checked it again like 4 hours after making an account and then not doing a thang. and i am being messaged on that. that's scary.

are all of these spam? because either that is spam or a completely wild amount of desperation. these profiles look fairly legitimate and have a location...

i have received one dick pic. its a pretty looking dick. i feel like sending an image of your penis to an account that doesnt list like Anything is Odd. so im suspicious that that is a scam. but that said idk if that's normal.

one guy who messaged me is 342 meters away. um. i should make sure that location tracking thing is off because if he wanted to he could find my house by walking along the street. actually he has a body pic on there and i think i've waited for the bus with this guy.

so anyway, this is all very DARK to me so i'm going to probably get rid of this app and continue never having sex. *does the pjackk thing with my arms*

[drdemonprince]

hey! i have a question abt your cruising guide if you don't mind, regarding something that (unless i totally missed sth, in which case i'm very sorry for wasting your time) i felt was completely absent but happens to be my main concern. (i'm already a huge slut, so anonymous/short term sexual encounters in themselves aren't the issue for me.) i'll put it bluntly: how am i supposed to pick anyone up in a gay male cruising space (irl/not on an app) when i look like a woman? i'm not a total stranger to gay bars, which is why i'm very sure that people in a cruising space are far, far more likely to take me as an intruder looking to be pleasantly scandalized than someone like them who they might want to have sex with, not to mention have sex with as a man(-adjacent). i also know it's likely that i'm projecting at least some of my dysphoria onto these hypothetical encounters, but it doesn't seem like an unjustified fear, either. i (fwiw: perisex, afab, some type of agender-nonbinary) have been on t for abt 9 months now, but i haven't had top or bottom surgery (i want both but so far it's unclear when that is going to happen) and my breasts are too large to be really concealed by a binder (not to mention that i can't fuck in a binder bc they give me awful headaches), i'm very short and ~curvy~, i have very little body/no facial hair, and people in casual daily interactions certainly don't hesitate to address me as a woman. it just seems preposterous to assume that there's anything abt me a man looking for another man could be attracted to. i guess it's possible someone could be a chaser after my specific type, but that's not an encounter i want to have right now. as far as my question to you is concerned, i want to have sex with a man who is into men, and at the very least won't see me as a girl wanting to be fucked like a man. i know that there is no way to objectively predict these things, experiences and tastes vary and so on, but i would be extremely grateful if you could share some of your experiences or give me some other pointers for how to approach this/what to expect. as it is, if i were to enter a darkroom, i assume i would be asked to leave, but preemptively telling myself that it's hopeless and to forget abt it for at least the next several years seems unnecessarily cruel, too. if there's any advice or experience you can share, thank you so so so much, and if not, thank you anyway for taking the time to read this letter of woe and for putting your perspective out there, it's been a balm to be understood. wishing you all the best x

Buddy -- it is (largely!) your dysphoria talking! Lots of queer men will wanna fuck you and they will wanna do it in a queer way. I walked around Steamworks fully tiddy out regularly and I had a great time.

It's true that in more general gay bars people will sometimes misread you, and that it will hurt, but trust me that lots of queer men are already attracted to you. If anything, I've noticed that in general queer spaces cis gay men sometimes default to assuming that you won't be interested in them and give a polite distance that they will happily do away with if they know you're looking and welcome their attention. A lot of guys don't want to accidentally be predatory to someone who they think might be a lesbian or not interested in men. (Again, being mistaken for something you are not really fucking sucks and can drive your dysphoria crazy, I get it, but do keep in mind that sometimes people do this out of a desire to be respectful, not because they're turned off that you're such a Womanly Woman or whatever.)

My first recommendation for you would be to GET ON GRINDR. Post some pics that make it clear what you're working with, physically, and list your identity clearly on your profile. When I first got a grindr I had a really slutty abs-and-underboob pic that got me a TON of attention from queer men, who treated me like a man, and it immediately assuaged all my concerns that I wasn't welcome on there. I think it will do a lot for your self-confidence and sense of belonging to try the same too.

Now, I don't want to be pollyannaish about any of this -- yes there are transphobes. In my experience they're mostly pretty quiet to trans men, they'll just pass you by for the most part. Yes there are people who will say awkward things. Block liberally and often and don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. But honestly, these are the kinds of issues you will run into within any dating platform, and the gay world is pretty damn blase and chill about the inclusion of trans men for the most part. You can absolutely put yourself out there -- and the sooner you do, the sooner you'll realize that your insecurities are not rooted in the reality of how other queer men mostly feel.

I wish I had put myself out there YEARS earlier! A lot would have changed for me if I had.