Rebirth Publishing

Writer of body swap / gender transformation fiction with cinematic detail. For more stories and exclusive content view my website at https://rebirth.pub/tumblr

[rebirthpub]

Host: Feminine p16:

The women's room is where I go now and I'm getting used to it in the same slow way I'm getting used to everything else - not natural yet, not strange enough to stop me.

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[rebirthpub]

Rebirth p18:

The silk is cool against my skin, the lace trim at the cup edge delicate. I feel like I might break it. I hold the cups against my breasts, pressing them into place, and Emily moves behind me.

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[rebirthpub]

Informed Consent p1:

The fever broke, leaving a slick, swollen heat between my thighs. Through the door, she teases, "Sit down like a good girl." It's supposed to be a game. Now I have to show her it's real.

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Reconstruction p3:

I reach between my legs. My calloused hand, rough from the turf and the latex gloves, scrapes against the wet folds. The soap stings the inner tissue. I clean myself fast.

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[rebirthpub]

Rebirth p17:

I notice it now - the crease where my breasts meet the chest wall visible through the wet fabric as a shadow, a line that has no equivalent on a male chest, the tissue above it moving slightly.

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Replication p3:

The face in the mirror isn't mine. The hair is long, past the shoulder. The eyes look like mine. But the jaw line, the nose, the mouth, all of it female and composed and unknown to me.

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[rebirthpub]

The Woodsmen p6:

The hands go over the breasts and I make it quick. The nipples draw up hard, and when the soap slides over them my breath catches short and I stand there with my jaw set till it passes.

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[rebirthpub]

Closed Doors:

Trapped in soft skin, his panic hijacked by wet, demanding heat between his thighs. She’s in his dense, testosterone-fueled frame, fighting a sudden aggression. The neighbor's at the door.

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[rebirthpub]

Reconstruction p2:

The hair’s curled tight. Below it there's none of the loose heaviness from before. The skin runs smooth down into a fullness, a soft rise, and then a seam, two folds pressed together.

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Replication p2:

I take a breath and lower the waistband of the slacks and the boxers, the hair and the flat mound of the mons beneath them, and she looks, and there's a long silence in the kitchen.

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Inhabited p6:

The soap slips under one breast and she has to lift it slightly to clean underneath. The skin there is hot and unfamiliar. The crease feels deeper than she expected.

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Host: Feminine p14: I make the wrong turn again - men's room. No one inside. I back out, go to the women's room. Eight days. I'm still doing this. The door to the men's room is simply where my feet go.

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[rebirthpub]

The Woodsmen p5:

My hand slides up. I cup the underside of the right breast. It fills my entire hand. I lift it slightly, then let it drop. It settles with a soft, heavy slap against my chest wall.

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[rebirthpub]

Full Immersion p1:

Steam, unfamiliar curves. Delia's hands wake a heat new to me. My body arches, nipples hard. Marcus’s gaze locks on my body. My name fades; my hand, Livia's, reaches for him.

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Reconstruction p1: Friction radiates from the groin with each push. The wet sound of skin on skin. She climbs on top, her calves pressing against my thighs. It changes the angle, opens her up more.

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Inhabited p5:

The sex has left her in a state of unresolved low-level arousal. She finds the wetness left over from the sex and wipes the worst of it away with her thumb, then finds her clit.

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[rebirthpub]

Replication p1:

"Did you go in the tank?" Annoyed, like I'd knocked over his coffee. He takes my wrist and turns it to the light. "How much? Like fingers?"

"To about there." I show him the wet line.

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