Obligatory thing for all people interacting with this account...
Ok maybe I really do need an introduction that's proper.
Hi, I'm Steph, I'm 21, genderfluid (AMAB) but I mostly use she/her to be honest. Anyways I made this blog as a sort of space for myself to just rant from time to time about how horny I am or let other people rant and repost it cause I can't do that normally obviously. I'm a switch but I lean a bit more to the submissive side, but can you blame me for wanting to rub myself on other hotties like a needy bitch??
Oh and just to be clear, any gender can interact. Trans men? Oh please handsome step on in. Cis women? Darling I am already on my knees. AMAB enbies? You are so lovely, take me away hun. Literally any gender, you're all works of art.
Idk if yall have noticed a daydream i keep thinking about and talking about but something something becoming a femme's butch and she forcefems me. And a version of it where she twins me. Awawawawa
gender neutral reader is transformed into a busty, fun-loving milf!
You stand over your sock drawer with a frown. You won’t pretend to be intimately familiar with the drawer’s contents; as in many households, the back of your sock drawer is where forgotten accessories go to die.
You’re pretty sure, however, that you’d remember owning a pair of leopard print leggings.
You tug the leggings out from the back of the drawer. At first you worry you pulled too hard and stretched them out, but no, they’re just big. Larger than anything you wear, even if you wore something this tacky in the first place. You hold the leggings up against your waist, comparing their expanse to your current proportions, your bafflement only growing. When did you get these?
And just like that, you’re wearing them.
One second they were in your hands, the next they were on your legs. No perceivable time in between. The jeans that had previously occupied that space have vanished.
The leggings don’t fit you of course, but… they do. Your legs, hips, and thighs have filled out into the bottoms. Layers of fat have completely transformed the shape of your lower body, thick legs holding up an enormous dump truck ass and hips wider than some doorways. You can’t see them, but you can feel stretch marks appear around your behind like tattoos.
You take a step backwards, and begin to topple over. No, no, that’s wrong, you aren’t falling. You got shorter. By more than a bit. You’re over five feet, but just barely, maybe. Your stomach bulges out in a slight pudge, love handles rippling at your sides, evidence of your years of good living.
The next change comes to your chest. Flesh swells under your nipples, larger and larger, from clementines to apples to grapefruits. They strain against your t-shirt for a moment, then burst free to the sound of tearing fabric: a pair of well-rounded breasts. You’re almost hypnotized by the way they settle against your torso. You can already feel the difference in weight on your shoulders (which have narrowed slightly without you noticing), but the change is offset by a lacey hot pink bra, one you definitely weren’t wearing under your shirt before. Your nipples, now large and puffy, make tents in the slip of pink fabric.
You begin to panic. This has to be some kind of dream, right? You whip around and stumble towards your closet door. Your first couple steps are made more difficult by the pair of three-inch heels that have appeared beneath your feet, ones made of a glossy pink material that matches your bra. Before you even reach the closet you can walk in them without fail, a confident stride that should’ve taken years to learn.
You throw the closet doors open to look at yourself in the full-length mirror on the inside. You’ve always had that mirror, so you could check yourself out in your cute outfits. Right? The reflection looking back at you is one you don’t recognize. Your face is round, full cheeks and small chin and plump, round lips. Crow’s feet and laugh lines crease your skin (tsk, you’ll have to redo your makeup!), marking years of age you have not yet seen. And your hair! It had been dark before, but now it’s platinum blonde. You had worn it short, but now it’s long. Or it would be, if it wasn’t all piled on top of your head in a beautiful, curling updo. The hairdo bobs with your anxious mannerisms, the weight of it new and mesmerizing.
Where your familiar face had once looked back from the mirror, there is now the face of a beautiful, middle-aged woman! This has to be a dream, you tell yourself, but part of you is unsure. Your new body and face fill you with confusion, but at the same time you feel a confidence welling in your chest that you’ve never felt before. The turmoil settles, gentle now. Not completely gone, but you’ve seen a fair few things in your day. You have years of loves and heartbreaks under your belt! This is nothing to get worried about, right?
But you’re drifting off! You seem to do that so often these days. What were you doing? Right, getting on your outfit to go meet your gal pals! It’s a Friday evening, and that means it's time for the cougar pack to start prowling. Or, no, what do they call ladies like you nowadays? That’s right, milfs! You’ll have to tell the gals that one, they’ll all just love it.
You reach into the closet and pull out a tight leopard print top, one that exactly matches your leggings. It zips up, so you don’t have to risk disturbing your titanic hair by putting it on. Plus, it means you can leave it half unzipped, and show off your best assets. You grab your purse, dig out a tube of lipstick (glossy hot pink, of course), and grin in the mirror as you apply it. All you need now is some shiny, heavy jewelry and a shot of liquid courage, and you’ll be ready to hit the town. You won’t hide your crow’s feet tonight, you decide. You fought for those years, after all. Might as well flaunt them!
Tbh? The older persona women are where it’s at for me.
Kawakami, finally able to spend time and money for herself. She did always have those lactation snacks and supplements. Maybe she could make a little more money…
Tae Takemi, opting just this once to be the test subject of her own experimental drugs. At first nothing happens, then she notices a spreading blue splotch on her nose. She tries to write down the effects but between her arms practically being absorbed into skin the same shade of blue as her hair and the juice pouring from her nipples, it may be hard. Perhaps she could call Kawakami if she’s able to? (Yes I ship them I love yuri)
Chihaya Mifune, getting a fortune that she was to become fat. Well, if the cards say she will, then why not speed up the process?
Ohya, having drunk so much that now she’s basically the newest keg at Lala’s bar. But considering the moans every time Lala squeezes a tit for some alcohol (followed by a bemused shake of the head from the head lady herself), I don’t think she minds…
I am a very big fan of your ideas here~ I'm really liking the image of Kawakami just barely squeezing her giant udders through the clinic door, spraying milk everywhere after the lactation meds got out of control, only to get juice "accidentally" squirted in her face by her girlfriend which turns her into a big blueberry milkshake.
The antidote exists, in theory at least, but Takemi hadn't gotten to that part yet. And there's no way anyone can help with these giant berries in the way...
Admittedly, I haven't been giving the side characters much love in my Hypersona world. I wanted to make an addendum for my original headcanon post, but I realized I'm not too familiar with the non-party girls in P3/4. I'd say the fault here lies with "I didn't want to cheat on Fuuka" and "I just straight up missed their entire existence."
Mostly the second one.
I'll have to pay closer attention to them when I get around to replaying the games after I finish the P2 duology. (Maya has a total bombshell hourglass figure btw. very sloshy.)
Iman Al-Anqar is just 6 years old, suffering from osteoporosis that makes it difficult for her to walk. She is in desperate need of a brace for her foot. During a genocide like this, where people are internally displaced again and again and again, the ability to move is the difference between life and death. In addition, the bitter cold and lack of nutritious food increases Iman’s chances of a bone fracture. This is not something that the Al-Anqars, nor the struggling hospitals in Gaza, can afford right now.
The Al-Anqars are nearly at the 50% mark of their €20,000 goal. The Palestinians and their allies are in a perilous position: ceasefire talks are said to be progressing, but Trump’s imminent presidency puts all of this on a timer. This is not to say that a ceasefire won’t/can’t happen under Trump, but we know his position on Gaza, and for everyone’s safety, it is best we treat Jan 20th like a deadline for now.
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The Al-Anqars are verified by GazaVetters, at #6 on the list.
I don't know why, but there's something hot, in concept to me, about the idea of becoming some sort of greedy caricature of my whole casinotoy schtick.
I just find the idea so nice that one day, ill be operating it as normal until a rival manages to cast a curse on me I don't notice. One that has me turn into a greedy pig. Literally~
I wind up growing a hefty pair of breasts, with a tummy and butt to match. My skin turns pink as I grow a snout, delighting in the piles and piles of money I start to writhe in every single day. A little curly tail, cute ears, and can never forget the squeal every now and again.
I'm practically bursting out of my dresses and suits at some point. Not that the guests would even mind, they might like bumping into me once or twice as I grace them with the presence of a proper member of the elite~
i just wish someone would just carve out all the ick and anxiety and take away everything!! I get it I'm supposed to be a person n responsible, but I'd be so much more fulfilled as a doll that can't even think for itself. Always on display and doing whatever I'm told and happy and happy and happy and happy an-
-confession from sad tired tranny
Oh my poor darling anon, I understand that feeling all too well. It would be just so much better if you just turned off your brain and became my little doll, wouldn't it?
All those pesky responsibilities are melting away as I gently kiss your forehead, hold your hands, and lock a leg with yours as you just get prettier and dollier and more precious by the second~
No thinking, I'll handle that for you, just stay there and be a pretty little thing~
I wish transformation was actually possible so I could become your favorite tf subject and shape my body into whatever you desire
Oh, anon, I'm flattered that you would want to be my little tf subject. I would just love to have you in my hands and carefully mold every little detail to perfection~
You'd like that too, wouldn't you, having all that attention for yourself while you feel me changing every aspect of you, darling?
Underrated and fun thing to condition your sub into - making it so that they can't stop themselves from communicating their desires, what they like about things you're doing or have done in the past, their every deepest and darkest fantasy.
The benefits are twofold - first you get to embarrass your sub senseless, and second you get to know so much more about all of the ways you can break them down into the perfect plaything for you.
Stephhhh I’m in the mood for a makeoverrrr! Surely the makeup and hair products won’t have any sort of transformative effect and make me a clown or goth or bimbo or even something completely different… right?
Oh no, no, not at all. It's not like I find clown girls hot, and I enjoy watching the silly makeup overtake you as you just become dumb and silly and goofy! Nooooo not at all darling~
...in all seriousness you're putting on the makeup and we're gonna have a honking good time~
