Tongue Twisted, with illustration


 I am reposting this story, but this time with this illustration.  The story and illustration were inspired by a therapist I saw on a regular basis decades ago.  (I know, me in therapy.  Inconceivable, right?)  I recently found a lookalike for her in a magazine.  This is not a statement of my opinion of her skills as a psychologist. I liked her and she was very good at her job. It’s just one of many fantasies I’ve had about her over the years.  There is an explanation near the end of the story for why the tongue and why she’s naked.  This is another piece of art by Lady Kraken, who has done several pieces for my dART gallery, including humanized little ponies.  She does great work.  If you want wonderful art at reasonable prices, she’s your artist.  Her dART page is here:

I’m expecting more than a few amateur psychologists analyzing me on THIS one!

Oh. Having just reread this story, I should warn that it’s a little raunchier than what I normally write, maybe closer to porn than erotic. If anyone is offended, my apologies.

Also, though I’ve also posted this on deviant art, this blog entry’s illustration is a higher resolution.

After she finished up her coffee, Gene put away her files on the last patient and got ready for the next one.  This would be Jim.  She liked listening to Jim.  He was always telling her about dreams he’d had about her.  She knew his dreams weren’t actual dreams, but fantasies he made up about her.  He had this strange fetish about women turning into animals.  And, in his “dreams,” she changed a lot.  She was almost always naked at some point in them as her clothes did not survive the changes.  She’d been a dog, a mouse, little, enormous breasts, a frog, a monkey.  (The kind with a tail, he’d specified, not an ape.)  She was a baby once and her receptionist had breast-fed her.  It was getting hard to think of something that she had NOT  been.

She opened the door to her office.  There was Jim, seated next to the aquarium in the office.  She called his name, he followed her inside, and she closed the door behind them.

As soon as they were both seated, and Gene had placed the legal pad on her lap, with a pen in her hand ready to take notes, they began with the usual small talk, eventually with Gene saying “How was your week?”

“It was great.  I got this!”  Jim held up his left hand and wriggled his fingers to display a gold ring with a large, oval-shaped jade stone set in it. 

“Who gave you that?” asked Gene.

“An old lady,” said Jim.  “She walked off the bus, forgetting her purse.  I grabbed it, caught up with her, and returned the purse to her.  And she gave me the ring as a reward.”

“Well, that was generous!”

“More than you know!  This is a magic ring!  It grants wishes!”

Gene said nothing, but snickered a little.

“I’ll prove it!” said Jim.  “I know just what wish I want to make in here with you!”  Jim closed his eyes, rubbed the stone in the ring, and whispered something.  When he opened his eyes, they went wide, staring at her.

“Did your wish come true?” asked Gene.

“It sure did!  Since I started seeing you, I’ve always wanted to see you like this!”

“What do you — ” Gene started to say, when she looked down at herself.  She was completely naked!  Her mini-skirt was gone, her pantyhose, her underwear, her jewelry, even her wedding ring!  The only things she still had on were her shoes. She gasped and looked at her patient, a noticeable bulge in his crotch.  “How did you do this?” she softly wailed.

“Like I said, this ring grants wishes!”

“I hope it does!  I hope it can grant a wish to keep you from being locked up for a long time for doing this to me!”  Gene covered her bottom half by crossing her legs and covered her breasts with one arm, while picking up the phone with the other, quickly pressing a button as she did so.  “Hello, Gwen?  Cawthpoeeth!”

That wasn’t what she wanted to tell Gwen.  Gene wasn’t sure what it was!  She tried again, with even less success.  As she sat, she noticed something moving, wriggling on and beyond her legs.  She stood up, trying to better see what it was.  As she did, Gwen came in.

“Gene?” said Gwen.  “Is something — ”  Gwen could say no more.  She stared at Gene, not believing what she saw.  Was she surprised to find her boss stark naked? Jean wondered.  Then, she noticed Jim had his eyes closed and was whispering to the ring again.

The next second, all of the walls in Gene’s tiny office were covered in mirrors, like a gaudy strip bar.  But Gene wouldn’t have minded if she were doing a strip tease, even starting over fully clothed.  For there, in the mirrors, she was still completely nude.  But the thing that boggled her mind beyond what she thought it could handle was her tongue.  It was hanging from her mouth, several FEET of it!  The tip came to rest just an inch or two below her knees!

“What happened to you?” asked Gwen.  Gene pointed a finger at Jim.  “Don’t worry, boss!  I’ll call the cops!”

Gwen took one step toward the office door, then stopped.  She shot down in size, her clothes enveloping her.  They came to rest on the floor and something was wriggling inside them.  Jim kneeled down, reached into the clothes, and pulled out a small goldfish, struggling helplessly to breathe.  Gene screamed as best she could over her tongue, terrified for Gwen.  But Jim walked out of Gene’s office and up to the aquarium where he tossed Gwen into the water.  Gwen the receptionist, now Gwen the goldfish, at first darted around the tank, and then relaxed and began to swim — like a fish, Gene realized.  

“Iv thee okie?” Gene tried to ask.

“She’s fine,” said Jim.  “And she’s got enough of her mind to enjoy being a fish.”

Gene buckled slightly at her knees, overcome by everything that had just happened.  As she did, her tongue began to wriggle around.  It was almost probing, she thought, like a lizard’s tongue, feeling and tasting the desk, the chair, and, most of all, herself.  It licked her arm, her right nipple, her shoulder.  And, then, it started licking her thighs, which made her gasp.  Was she controlling it?  Was Jim controlling it?  Did she care?  That was a good question as the tongue began to lick jean BETWEEN her thighs, finally entering her vagina.  

I’m tasting myself! she thought.  She liked the taste!  And she liked the feeling!  And Jim was enjoying the sight, she thought.  He grabbed some tissues from the box on her desk, and then, holding them in his hand, he reached down in his pants and began to masturbate.  

My God, she thought.  We’ve synchronized our masturbation!  She wanted to smile, but only succeeded in lightly biting her tongue.  She closed her eyes and began thinking of what she could do with this tongue.  She would be a freak, yes, but there were worse things to be.  She noticed much of her tongue was getting dry.  Was Jim going to leave her like this?  Would she have to carry a bucket of water with her from now on?  Would she need to make more trips to the bathroom and run her tongue under the faucets?  If he did leave her like this, could a surgeon cut the tongue down to size?

Suddenly, everything else receded to the back of her mind.   She was still standing, slightly bent at the knees, as her tongue began a performance that would put an anteater to shame!  Her tongue was sliding rapidly between her legs.  As it did so, she managed a lengthwise rotation on and over her clit.  Her juices were flowing now, and they were delicious!  She grabbed her tongue with her hands and pressed it harder into her box, rubbing it in all the right places until, finally, she climaxed, giving the best moan she could through her teeth.  She opened her eyes and saw that Jim had also finished.  She would hear his juices hitting the tissues hard.

As they both relaxed, she saw Jim was whispering to the ring again.  And then she felt it.  Her tongue was sliding back into her mouth, regaining it’s normal size.  She was soon herself again.  She was still buck-naked, but everything was normal.

She stared wearily at Jim for a few seconds.  Then, her eyes went wide.  “Gwen!” she cried.  Not caring that she was naked (and no one else was in the office anyway), Gene stumbled into the waiting room and looked at the aquarium.  Jim was behind her.  She looked beseechingly at him and said “Please.”

Jim whispered to the ring.  They both looked at the aquarium and one of the fish began to change.  Instead of back fins, it had small, but shapely, human legs.  It began to grow, to sprout human arms.  Soon, Gwen was standing in the tank.  She was soaked.  And the tank was overflowing with water and fish.  As best she could, she climbed out and she and Gene began to gather up the fish that had spilled out of the tank and put them back in the water.

“I was a fish!” gasped Gwen.  “I was swimming around, breathing water!  I think I even ate some fish food!  I WAS A FISH!”

“You should’ve seen me!” said Gene.  “He made my tongue grow to maybe four feet long!  I was tasting myself!  I licked my own vagina!  You wouldn’t believe it!”

“I don’t think I believe any of this!”

“Well, then,” said Jim.  “Why don’t I do this?”

“Wait, no,” said Gene.  “Don’t — “

But it was too late!  She felt her tongue sliding out between her teeth again.  And, when she looked at Gwen, she saw Gwen’s tongue elongating, too!  Soon, both women had tongues nearly four feet long.  Gene suddenly felt the urge to lie on her back, and Gwen was kneeling over her.  Gwen’s head — and tongue — were over Gene’s privates and Gene’s were over Gwen’s.  Each woman began to probe the other one, licking, poking, even lightly slapping each other’s cheeks (both kinds) with their tongues.  Gene felt herself starting to climax, and it was going to be magnificent.  She felt the surge of pleasure growing stronger, stronger, STRONGER —

And, suddenly, Gene opened her eyes.  She was in her bed, next to her sleeping husband.  She had definitely cum, but it was apparently a dream cum.  She rested face up, staring at the ceiling, trying to regain her breath.  She couldn’t believe that Jim’s dreams, real or not, had started to affect her.  Now THAT was empathizing with a patient!

She rolled onto her side and was soon fast asleep again.

Jim got up, stretched, and looked around the room.  It had been a while since he had used Jean for one of his fantasies.  He did feel a little guilty about using a married woman, but not THAT guilty.  But he knew he HAD to use her tonight!  And, whenever he did use a married woman, it was to watch and to masturbate.  He NEVER actually had sex with her.  And he cast a deep sleep spell on the spouse.

This fantasy was relatively new.  He had enjoyed giving women frogs’ tongues, big dogs’ tongues to hang out of their mouths, forked reptilian tongues.  But they were all part of larger transformations, and, sometimes, small parts at that.

But making a tongue the center of a transformation — THAT was new!  He had never even considered what a woman with an elongated tongue could do with it, the experiments and experiences.  Too bad he didn’t want to get physical himself with a married woman.  A LONG tongue that could wrap itself around a dick!  That would be truly something else.  And he remembered a Phil Foglio story in Xxxenophile years ago where a young woman woke up to find her exact double in bed with her.  She soon had the answer to what she tasted like to others!

This power he had come by, to make any woman he wanted to materialize in his special room (which could look like anything HE wanted it to look like), and let her think it was just a dream.  It was all he could do to keep himself from sharing that others.

He started thinking again of the tongue.  What if, someday, tentacles?  What if, someday, he also gave a woman tentacles?

He began planning his next fantasy.

I’m a Chump

I recently found myself being transformed from a reasonably intelligent human being into a Chumpus Unbelievablus.

I fell for a phone scam. To the tune of $2700.

I don’t want to go into the details right now. But it’s part of the reason I haven’t posted anything lately. I have been writing and will have some stories and reviews soon. I apologize to my followers and beg their patience and understanding.

Thank you and bless you all.

Book review — “Confessions of a Teenage Frog” by Susan Smith

I was walking through the kids’ section of a bookstore way back in 1987 when I spotted this book. I snapped it up immediately, and then learned it was the second of what would be four-book series about a girl named Samantha Slade. The series is about a 12 – 13 year-old girl who, essentially, becomes babysitter to Addams Family-ish kids. The kids (and their mother) are weird, but they like their sitter. It was a cute series and I would’ve liked to have seen more.

In this book, Samantha runs for class president and Drake, the boy she sits for, gives her a potion to make her great. What happens, however, is that, whenever she tries to be great, she turns into a frog.

The book handles her frog-ness well. It elaborates on what kind of frog she turns into, a green tree frog. This is a frog with sticky pads on its fingers, which allows Samantha to stick to most things. She retains her human mind, and voice, with a few frog instincts thrown in as well. Can’t have a girl become a frog without her eating a few bugs, after all.

Samantha changes into a frog and then back into a human several times throughout the book. Contrary to what the cover above shows, Samantha’s clothes do not change with her. But she usually has changes of clothes nearby for when she regains her humanity. (I’d be willing to bet that, somewhere out there, are boys and girls who read this who were sent down the path of metamorphilia by this book.)

The book goes back and forth between Samantha’s human life (especially her campaign for class president) and her amphibian state. But she can’t help the latter interfering with the former. And, at the book’s climax, when she has to give her major campaign speech while stuck as a frog, there’s a definite tension the reader feels for her.

There is a resolution to her transformations, though it is one that can be undone. This never happens in the two subsequent books in the series, which is one reason I would’ve liked to have seen the series continue.

Still, whether you’re a fan of frog transformations or transformations in general, this book is for you. It’s still available through Amazon and/or eBay. (Later editions do not have the cover illustration, so if that’s one thing selling you on this book, be careful.)

If you’re a parent,( aunt, uncle, whatever), I recommend this book, or, if you can find it, the entire series. (And, for TG fans, Ms. Smith also wrote Changing Places, the story of a body-swap between girlfriend and boyfriend. You can find it here: )

The touchy transformations: Age regression and age progression

The uppermost of these two pieces of art got me suspended from DeviantArt for a week. The art itself was removed. The objection was apparently that the art depicted full-frontal nudity of an underage character. I tried to explain that underage nudes are not automatically pornographic. If they were, every parent who had ever taken photos of their kids taking baths or toddling around the house in their birthday suits would be in trouble.

I’m of the age where I, and others, saw a LOT of age regression art and stories. From at least the mid-1950s to a decade later, I don’t think there was a year where, at some point, Superman or one of his friends were turned into babies. Superman underwent the change a lot. Lois Lane did it at least three times. Jimmy Olsen and Perry White, and even Batman, all were regressed at least once. (The first Supergirl story I ever read, had HER being turned into a baby.)

Years ago, I was on a message board (remember them?) devoted to giantesses. I posted one message where I mentioned my interest in all transformations, including age regression. I got a response saying I was only interested in women being regressed “so you can fuck them!” And that, in a nutshell, is why so many people object to age regression art and stories.

And, there may be people who fantasize about age aggression for that reason. I’m not one of them. For me, the interest is in seeing how the regressed deals with the regression. It’s why I went to see the movie Little earlier this year. And it’s why I wrote my novel Skye Sparkler, tossing in with it the added complication of the regressed character also being the strongest person on the planet.

Magic sand, magic sand, make me small at my command!

Then, there’s age progression. The art above (done by artist Steve Sullivan) deals with that concept, taking the strip “Mary Jane and Sniffles” that was a back-up feature in the Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies comic book from years ago. This strip took Sniffles, the annoying little kid mouse from the Warner Brothers cartoons, and teamed him with a little girl named Mary Jane. Mary Jane could make herself Sniffles-sized, originally by sprinkling magic sand on herself and reciting the words in the caption above. Later (probably after complaints from parents about their kids sprinkling salt on themselves while playing Mary Jane and Sniffles), the size change came about by Mary Jane saying

Now I close my eyes real tight, and then I wish with all my might, magic words of poof, poof, piffles, make me just as small as Sniffles!

I remember one story where Mary Jane made herself even smaller by adding the words
And make Sniffles as small as a bug!

Proving the fetish was with me back then, I can remember finding it interesting that Mary Jane would shrink herself in every story, and then go on adventures with Sniffles.

About 20 years ago, I was reminded of that strip and immediately again became enamored of Mary Jane. But I came up with this twist on the subject to do an age progression which Mary Jane’s dress did not survive. That’s as far as it went, imagining an adult, nude Mary Jane. (And, I’m sure that right now, there are people reading this imagining comics’ more famous Mary Jane, MJ Watson, shrinking herself.)

Age progression transformations have been popular over the years with things like 13 Going on 30 and the movie and stage musical Big. It’s never appealed to me that much because AP happens for real, naturally, to all of us. Sometimes a good AP story comes along, however. One of the best AP and AR stories that I know of was “It’s a Gas,” which you can read here:

I have gone through an entire night of being unable to sleep, but am now feeling tired and hope to be able to go to bed. So, once again, I must utter those words “I know there’s a lot more to be written on this subject, and I hope to do so someday.” But for now, I’ve got to go to bed.

As always, I welcome all thoughts and comments on this subject.

Transformation and pain

Just over 25 years ago, I found an ad from someone doing custom stories for people. You told him what you wanted, how much you were willing to pay (I think it was originally $3 per page), and an artist would add a story-related drawing for every third page you paid for.

Well, it didn’t take me long to ask for a story about a woman undergoing various transformations. The story arrived and I eagerly began reading. I enjoyed it greatly (and would order more stories from him) — except for one thing.

When it got to the first transformation, the main character (from whose point-of-view the story was told) described being wracked with pain. She could feel her bones being reshaped, her face pulling out (the first TF was into a dog), her body condensing in size.

The character underwent two more changes, into a mouse and, later, a pegasus. Each time, the pain returned. (I don’t remember if there was pain when she returned to her normal self or not.)

I had not wanted the transformation to cause pain, hadn’t even considered it. I told the writer to not have future transformations linked to pain in future stories.

In the years since, I’ve considered how many TFs cause pain for the subject in stories. And I realize there’s a lot of pain going along with TFs. A transformation into a werewolf, for example. An American Werewolf in London‘s lycanthrope, if memory serves, is writhing on the floor or ground as he changes. Bruce Banner’s transformation into The Hulk is often not pleasant, nor is changing back into Banner. (Unless it comes by The Hulk relaxing, and then he often sleeps as he returns to Banner’s form.)

This past week, I finally saw the Black Mirror episode “Callister.” Without giving too much away, it’s about a computer whiz who brings about his own private universe of something akin to Star Trek‘s holodeck, crossed with giving himself powers like Charlie X in the original series episode of that name. Like Charlie, the whiz at one point wipes out the face of a crew member, but keeps her alive though she has skin over her mouth and nose. Later, however, he turns another lady crew member into a huge insectoid creature, and it’s obvious the change is agonizing to her.

I remember a story from Greek mythology in which a woman accidentally kills a water spirit and she is changed into a tree (while holding her baby!). The pain isn’t so bad, but the story tells in detail how the bark covers her body, with some pain especially in the limbs. The baby, who was being nursed at the time, starts wailing when the milk suddenly stops flowing.

There are some transformations you’d expect would be painful, but aren’t — at least not physically. The boys changing into donkeys in Pinocchio don’t seem to feel anything in their bodies. Psychologically, however, Lampwick’s transformation terrifies and haunts kids to this day.

I haven’t begun to cover this topic, I know. Anyone remember any transformations that looked painful to them, please share.

Teacher-parent conference

In response to a comment that what happens to the main character in this story was more severe than she deserved, I have edited the story slightly so that “the punishment fits the crime.” It now fits into the theory that there are few people, save possibly parents, that can screw people up in their childhoods more than teachers.

Once again, I must apologize for taking such a long time between entries. It’s partly because of my going back to work after a lengthy sick leave.

Anyway, I hope this will make things up to my followers. This is a photo commission I had done back in 1986, when I found a photographer in a swinger’s magazine. (Remember those?) This is not something I’m going to post in my deviantART gallery, but am just sharing it with all of you who follow my blog. Look under photos for paragraphs that will explain what’s going on.

Oh, this was such a LONG week! That new girl in my class, the one with TWO mommies! Why did they let such perversions happen, and why did they let the results come into the schools! But I know-how to handle it. I put the girl in with the SLOW students. After all, any girl saying she had “two mommies” was going to naturally be behind the others. The “mommies” then asked for a conference. I waited for them to come talk to me, but they never showed, and —

— WHAT?! Where am I? How did I get here?

“So this is her? In pantyhose. And ‘sensible’ shoes?”

“She’s pretty, but those hose and shoes ARE ugly!”

“We can fix them, Nellie.”

Who are these women? And — what? Where did these — clothes? — on me come from? They’re something a, a SLUT might wear!

“Who are you?” I ask the women.

“We’re the mothers of your new student, Wilhemena. I’m Willie, and this is my wife, Nellie. We wanted to speak with you about our daughter. But we decided we’d rather speak with you here in our home.”

“I don’t know what you did to me. I’m guessing hypnosis was involved. But these are NOT the kind of clothes I wear! I demand you get these things off of me right now, or ELSE!!!”

“Get them off of you right now?” said Nellie, with a smile. “As you wish.”

I hadn’t liked the feel of the shoes that had suddenly been on my feet. But it was odd to suddenly NOT feel them on my feet, only the hose that had appeared with the shoes. Under those, suddenly, there was only the rug.

Then, I wasn’t feeling the hose anymore! Just my bare feet on the rug. I felt something a little strange around my waist, and looked down to see I still had a garter belt on. Before my eyes, THAT vanished, and I was just in my bra and panties — except they weren’t MY bra and panties. These were something out of that Adam and Eve catalogue I confiscated from Billy Egner last week.

As the bra vanished, I remembered my demand of these women. (Sorceresses? I thought. But that was impossible.)

Get these things off of me right now! I had said. And all of these indecent garments were vanishing off of my body. And I didn’t need to look down to know that I was standing in this unknown room completely naked!

“Oh, she IS adorable!” said Willy. “And such a cute little pussy!”

“She takes care of it, you can tell,” said Nelly. “Though I suspect it doesn’t get much use.”

I did the only thing I could think of and covered myself as best as I could with my hands. Then, I turned my front away from the women, though that just gave them a good view of my butt.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked.

“You demanded we remove the undies from you. Remember?”

“Yes, but why bring me here? And how are you doing this, bringing me here, changing my clothes on my body, stripping me naked?”

“We’re sorceresses!” said Willy. “Witches, if you prefer. And we’ve heard what you’ve been sharing with your fellow teachers about us!”

“Now, we just have to decide what we want to do with you,” said Nelly.

“Do with me?” I scoffed. “What, turn me into a frog or something?”

“She has no imagination, does she?”

“No. But let’s give her what she wants.”

I suddenly had a compulsion to sit down on the stool near me. But not just SIT down, but pull my feet up on the edge of the stool. And then, something buzzed in front of my face. I looked over and there was a fly sitting on the counter! A big, yummy-looking fly!

It was hard to move my neck, but I could lean over, stick out my tongue, and SNARE it! I spend a few seconds luxuriating in it! It was tasty, it was crunchy, it was juicy, it was —

IT WAS A FLY!!! I HAD SWALLOWED AND EATEN A FLY!!! I felt sick! “Stop doing this to me, you dyke bitches! Leave me alone!” My voice had a croak to it.

“Bitches?” said Nelly. “Us, bitches?”

“You’re the bitch!” said Willy. “Telling tales on us, treating our daughter badly because we love each other! I’ll show you what it’s like to be a bitch!”

I suddenly felt something on my neck, something that felt like — leather?

I was suddenly compelled to get on all fours. Not hands and knees, all fours, that sounded right to my mind. And my tongue had to hang out of my mouth. I tried to talk to the women, but, instead, I made a big WOOF! I didn’t want to do that, and I wanted to ask, again, that these — witches — stop doing things to me. But I couldn’t speak. So, instead I got on my knees and held my paws limply in front of me. I hoped they understood may message: Please?

“Look at that!” said Willy. “She knows how to beg! Can she do any other tricks?”

“Let’s see,” said Nelly. “Play dead, girl!”

Obediently, I laid on my side, closed my eyes, and let my tongue hang out.”

“What a good girl! Go ahead and sit!”

I obeyed again, but something human in the back of my head woke up. I could feel myself glaring at these two.

“Oh, oh, teacher is back!” said Willy. “Might as well release her!”

I felt the collar vanish from my neck. A little shakily for my tastes, I stood upright and wagged my finger at the witches.

“Leave me alone! I don’t care what you perverts do to me, I am NOT going to change my opinion of you two!” I cried, not caring that I was completely buck naked in front of them.

“She’s found some nerve!” said Nelly.

“That surprises me. She struck me as a little mousy.”

“Well, why not!”

I started to whimper. I knew what was coming, but I didn’t want to be a —

And then, everything was so huge. No. I was so small. But everything WAS scary! I stopped crouching and scampered about, looking for some place to hide!

When my back was to them, I head Willy say “She does have a cute tail!” Nelly snickered.

I ran under the edge of a counter, and crouched there. I had never been so terrified in my life! But, then, the mouse left me and I stood up on my knees.

“Like I said, I’m not changing how I think about you witches! These are the values I was raised with, the values of a decent, NORMAL woman!”

“How she was raised,” said Nellie. “Hmm. Maybe if we sent her back to start over — ?”

I needed to reassure myself, somehow. I had an urge to suck my thumb. But then, a wave of sadness washed over me. How could they do this so me! It was mean! I pulled my thumb from my mouth and began, not just to cry, but to wail at all the unfairness of it! I wished I had a blanket.

Then, I DID have a blanket. It was just what I wanted. I was me again, Baby Teacher, hugging and sucking my blankie! I felt secure.

Suddenly, I wanted to play! I looked between my legs and there was a set of jacks! And a ball! I LOVE JACKS!

An’ sunn’ly, I was back on my bed with the jacks. I wooked up at da two nice wadies, and day was wunnerin’ if I was married. They’d check back on me tomorrow and make sure I wath okay. And if I din’t have a husband’ t’ take care o’ me (him the daddy ‘n’ me the mommy!), deyed take me home wi’ dec an care for me here.


TFs and partners

Recently, for the second time, I had contact with someone who had transformation fantasies about his wife. He liked to imagine her with muscle mass transformations, the kind, I’m guessing, where the subject has had so much musculature added to her body that, in the real world, it would impossible for her to move.

The previous instance was with a man who imagined his wife shrinking, sometimes turning into a mouse, maybe sometimes regressing in age, though I preferred not to press to learn more about THAT fantasy.

I had a healthy correspondence with this earlier fan until it abruptly stopped. Efforts to contact the man resulted in my getting “Permanent error” messages back from his server. He had told me that his wife did not know about his transformation fantasies. I suspect she found out about them and that may have led to the termination of his e-mails.

As for the more recent TF fan, I asked him if his wife knew about his fantasies, and never got a response from him on that question.

Which leads to this question for those who follow this blog: If you are married or have been in a long-term relationship with a partner, does your partner know about your interest in transformation?

I myself have never been married, but I have had a couple of relationships. One of these was with female roommates in college. There was no sex, we shared apartments for financial reasons only. I did tell them about my fascination with transformation, which they found strange. I had a couple of TF dreams about one of them, and I told her about them. Her reaction was disgust, and she made it clear she didn’t want to hear about such dreams, didn’t want to even know I’d had them.

The other relationship was with a lovely lady of color, a former exotic dancer. She didn’t understand the fantasy either, but she didn’t judge me over it. We tried to do a little transformation role-playing, but, again, she didn’t quite understand what I wanted. I tried to get her to imagine I had a magic-using ex-girlfriend who was extremely jealous and would use her powers to transform my lady. But the former dancer couldn’t get into pretending she was changing. She’d do some meowing, but into a cat instead of a dog, which wasn’t what I wanted.

There was one time where she allowed one of my favorite fantasies, where she was a teacher who had a student that first made her clothing disappear and then turned her mentally into a dog. I don’t post or share those photos, however, as I don’t do revenge porn.

But I’m curious and would like to know, again, if anyone reading this has a partner with whom they share such fantasies. Or do they have the fantasies but keep quiet about them because the partner wouldn’t understand? And if you have the fantasies, what do you like to imagine your partner turning into?

Or are your fantasies about yourself transforming and then interacting with your partner? No names will be used. I’d like to know what some of us use the fetish for.

I hope to hear from my followers on this subject soon.