Woman turned into mtf transgender

Looking for stories (or links or ... ) in a certain transformative genre? Looking for a story you can only half-remember? Ask for guidance from your fellow members here.

Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby pan » Wed Apr 20, 2016 1:58 am

Would anyone happen to have On My Turf saved?
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby Alice » Sat Apr 23, 2016 5:29 am

You guys know about the Internet Archive, right?

https://web.archive.org/web/20151009185 ... ale-to-mtf
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby allthosecurves » Sat Mar 17, 2018 1:21 pm

I'm still interested in this type of transformation, whether it's based on surgery or magic, curse, potion, etc... particularly ones where she still desperately wants to be seen as naturally female. If you have any story ideas or suggestions, please feel free to share them.

Here's a pretty cool morph of Avril Lavigne into a drag queen version of herself: https://cyber-dryad.deviantart.com/art/ ... -734573940.

Oh, and here's another fun piece from Diggerman (there's a story beneath the accompanying artwork): https://diggerman.deviantart.com/art/We ... -539008591.
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby bit » Sun Mar 18, 2018 11:07 pm

I started writing a story with this theme and forgot that I had until now. It's only the opening chapter, but lays out the idea well enough. Best of luck in your search for more stories!

Transgender Honey Trap

The butterflies in Janie’s stomach fluttered as the big man on campus walked up to her at the front desk of the library. The part-time assistant had her hair cut and styled recently in the hopes that he would notice her.

“Is there anything I can help you with…” she said in a mousy voice that trailed off as he pivoted to turn into the computer lab.

She sighed. Jocks like him weren’t interested in the bookish type, especially not when they had the cheer squad sucking their dicks after every practice, or so she assumed. It seemed that plastic blonde bimbos in uniform were all guys cared about these days. She tried to join them but gave up halfway through tryouts when it became apparent that she couldn’t measure up. Those girls were preppy, thin and flexible in ways that she could never be.

On her computer display, she activated the screen mirroring software on the machine he was logged into. She was violating his privacy and the university’s code of conduct policy but was desperate to find out what his interests were. Unsurprisingly, it was all typical guy stuff. ESPN, his fantasy football league and Reddit. She risked getting fired and expelled from college to know that big jocks loved dank memes. Just great.

As she was about to log out of the spying program before someone caught her, he started looking at pictures of girls. Curiously, they weren’t that pretty. Her eyes were glued to the screen as he clicked through picture after picture of women with chiseled jawlines, no hips, bad makeup and some that were downright ugly. That definitely piqued her interest as she maximized his window on her monitor. Her competition wasn’t like anyone on the cheer squad!

She couldn’t understand what exactly it was about these women that he found so attractive. According to browser tab, they were all, “Traps,” whatever that was. A quick Google search yielded results for animal traps, kitchen sink traps and workouts for the trapezius muscle. Everything clicked when a naked woman with a penis appeared on the screen. They were all transgender.

Her heart sank as she realized that one impossible beauty standard had been replaced by another. Instead of having to aspire to being a basic bitch, his object of desire was assigned male at birth. That was a team she could never join with two x chromosomes. Her unrequited love would forever be one-sided. It was never going to happen.

The idea came to her in the middle of the night. Average as she was, she was more feminine than all the women he was into. For all intents and purposes, she had been on hormone replacement therapy all her life. Her voice was small and girlish, her hands were slight and dainty and her chest was modestly developed. The only thing missing was a masculine bulge, but it’s not like she would be expected to whip out her dick on the first date. Women stuffed their bras, so what was the harm in stuffing her crotch?

As a cisgender woman, pretending to be transgender would transform her from ordinary to extraordinary. She would be the big fish in a little pond, the ultimate trap and all she had to do was lie. She didn’t feel too bad about deceiving him, not all trans women decide to out themselves to a potential partner right away. It would come out eventually. Hopefully, after he had fallen for her.

The following morning, she scoured the online transgender community for the equipment she needed. She never imagined how fun it could be to pick out a penis to buy. First, there was the size. How big did she want to go? She giggled selecting the largest one, imagining the monstrosity dwarfing her boyfriend’s. Bigger was better and size mattered, especially when her plan involved him seeing the bulge in her skirt. Next, she had to decide on whether she wanted to be circumcised or not. She liked the aesthetic of a dick without foreskin better, so off it went. Finally, she had to decide on whether she wanted to be able to pee with it on or not. Long-term use was definitely a plus, so that option was added.

A week later, her silicone member arrived in an unmarked brown shipping box. She picked it up in the campus mailroom and brought it to her dorm, where she locked the door behind her. Her tiny fingers struggled to wrap around the girth of the thing that was appropriately named Moby Dick. Had science gone too far?

In a frenzy, she pulled down her skirt and thong underwear. She smeared the medical adhesive along the edges of the device and placed it over her freshly shaven pussy. After waiting a minute to ensure to it had adequately bonded to her flesh, she tested the glue by tugging at it and found it to be firmly entrenched. It was on tight and wouldn’t be coming off anytime soon without the adhesive remover compound.

She played with her dick, moving the flexible metal rod inside up and down. She wiggled her hips and watched it flop around. She pinched and rubbed the skin. It was so lifelike! Paying a huge premium for a packer that could pass for the real thing was the right decision, even if the big man on campus never got to see it.

Putting her thong underwear back on proved to be bit of a problem. The skimpy piece of fabric wasn’t meant to contain an eight-inch fully erect penis. The thong nearly ripped as she attempted to stretch it over the contraption. Hmm. Dresses and skirts were definitely out until she got this thing under control. Boxer shorts and a stiff pair of skinny jeans were the way to go.

Next to her roommate’s bed, she found a pair of men’s boxer shorts and slipped them on. These were designed for her male appendage and went on snuggly. Standing up, pulled them down and imagined the look on his face as her dick revealed itself in all its glory. She reached down to grasp it and began stroking, moving her hand back and forth. There was no sensation, of course, or the ability to ejaculate, but she imagined that it could fool him up to the point that he tried to give her a blowjob. She wasn’t exactly an expert on all things dick, so she couldn’t say for sure only having gotten one half an hour ago.

She hadn’t really considered his sexuality beyond what was on the surface. She knew he had a thing for trans women, but what did that mean in their relationship? Would he want to give her oral sex? What about anal sex and if so, was he a top or a bottom? The instructions said that the device was, “fully functional” so she could give, if necessary. Her tight asshole didn’t much like the possibility of taking, though. She would have to order a butt plug, dildo or something before she could even think about taking his package.

Ideally, she wouldn’t have to go so far to fake sex reassignment surgery to get rid of her dick and he would be content with the truth. The option to peg his boy pussy from time to time with a strap-on would still be open to him, if that’s what he was into.

She was putting the cart before the horse. She had to get his male gaze to turn toward her first. The bulge he desired in her skinny jeans was unmistakable as she finished buttoning them. She smiled. Soon, he would discover that the genetic girl he callously ignored had the elusive Y chromosome that he yearned for.
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby bit » Sun Mar 18, 2018 11:44 pm

I went through my documents and saw that I had another unfinished f to m2f type story. It is also just the opening chapter. In this one, a SJW with a trans sister wants to "trade places" with her so she can be more popular in the social justice community. Basically, she wants to (surgically) swap her lady parts for her trans sister's male appendage.

Millennial Malcontent

“Do you mind if I join you?”

The man’s irritating question pulled me out of the hypnotic trance I was in as I had been fixated on my phone’s display. I set it down and took a sip of my free trade, non-dairy cup of coffee and used the innocuous delay to shift my eyes around the interior of the tiny café. There weren’t many available seats and my table for two to four people was being used by just me and my backpack.

“Go ahead,” I said with disinterest, pretending that I didn’t care one way or the other.

I picked my phone back up and ignored him to bask in my moment of glory. My younger brother had publicly come out as trans and now I had a little sister. It was a dream come true for me. The accolades were constantly pouring in from all my followers on social media.

@oftenpatch: That’s SO awesome! Congratulations.

@Clover_NoRelation: Proud of all the work you’ve done for your new sister in the LGBTQ community.

@LimeyAvenger: Really cool, but scared for her with the direction this country is headed. Sending all my love.

@marieREcherri: ugh, another cis “ally” who thinks she has to speak on behalf of a trans person. don’t make this about u.

What a bitch. The nerve of some people. I proceeded to block marieREcherri from being able to view my profile. Her toxic attitude was unwelcome. This random internet commenter didn’t know anything about me or sister.

When articles of my clothing started disappearing and I found them hidden away in my brother’s closet, I didn’t flip out on him, nor did I try to embarrass him. In fact, I giddily pulled him into my room, locked the door and let him try on whatever he wanted. All the things that society said was off-limits for boys like skirts, dresses and heels were open to him. He didn’t have to sneak around in secret and be ashamed about wearing feminine clothing. I was an ally to my trans sister long before anyone even knew.

She may have been a tad reluctant about coming out today, but I encouraged her every step of the way. That included creating Twitter and Tumblr accounts for her to use. There was a large amount of support online and I wanted her to experience what that was like. I waited weeks for her to tag me in a post so we could officially get the ball rolling, which was practically forever in internet time.

She wanted to write about things unrelated to her transition, but I already had the cute picture of her in my old cheerleading outfit. This was happening even if I had to push in her the limelight. She would thank me later. Being trans was a wonderful thing that just had to be shared with the whole world.

Delighted to announce that my brother is now my sister. Please follow her at @Auspicious_Annalise.

The message I sent to my followers was short, but the impact for me, personally, was enormous. After spending years in the virtual trenches waging war against the systemic injustices of our society online, fate rewarded me with non-heteronormative family member. That gave me some serious credibility in the social justice community. It made me special.

“I have a trans sister,” I said aloud, lost in thought.

“Oh? That’s interesting,” he replied. “You know, there is a rally on campus next week to show our support for marginalized groups. I’m thinking about going, if you’d like to join me.”

The college-aged man from before was at still my table, waiting for the right opportunity to engage me in conversation and I had just given him one. He used it to ask me out on a date. Male feminists were the worst. They thought that they could get into a woman’s pants by helping to smash the patriarchy, as if we couldn’t do it without their help.

“You can’t invite me to an event I organized.”

“Um, well, I…”

He stumbled over his words when I verbally pulled the rug out from underneath him.

“So… I’ll definitely see you there then?” he cautiously inquired with a half-smile.

I rolled my eyes. Couldn’t he take the hint that I wasn’t interested? Why did every guy think that a woman by herself was a solicitation for their company?

“Look, the University requires that you be allowed to come, but we really don’t need any more cis white men in attendance.”

I gave him the cold, hard, truth that told him to get lost and didn’t bother making any further eye contact. He left me to the important business I had of reading and responding to tweets on my phone. I was riding the emotional high of vicariously coming out as trans through my sister. Life couldn’t get any better than this. The support she got almost had me wishing I wasn’t an ordinary cis woman, where my gender identity matched the sex I was assigned at birth.

Over the next several months, I grew envious of her popularity as she accumulated more followers than me. The influx of positivity I got from having a trans sister quickly died down. Why follow me when they could follow her? In the sphere of social justice, her feelings and opinions were more highly valued as a result of how much more oppressed she was than me. The spotlight was firmly on her and I had no one to blame but myself for that.

She even started an Instagram account without consulting me first. I was seething when I saw comment after comment from people complimenting her appearance. Nobody cared enough to tell me I looked pretty in the exact same clothes. Her hips were narrow, her chest was flat, her hair was short and she was inexperienced with makeup. Objectively, I was a much more desirable woman than her; a real woman, with two X chromosomes and all the accompanying bits and pieces.

I hated that I felt this way, how the mass media had subconsciously programmed me to crave approval of my body. That my value as a woman was first and foremost dependant on how attractive I was. My mind had been warped from an early age to size other women up as competition and to shame those that didn’t conform. The seed was planted so deep that I occasionally slipped back into that poisonous line of thought no matter how progressive I had become since then.

As time passed, it was a constant struggle to fight against my own bigotry and hate. Why couldn’t I simply be happy for her? I used multiple anonymous Twitter accounts to vent my frustration by messaging her with threats, insults and sexual comments that fetishized her condition.

You’ll never be able to have children. Freak!
Ppl like u should be euthanized.
Having a penis makes you a MAN. Don’t come into the woman’s bathroom.
Kill yourself.
Can’t believe my tax dollars are being spent on some tranny’s mental illness.
Damn gurl, you fine. I want to meet you in person so I can suck your fat dick and stick my BBC in your tight white boi ass. DM me.


I knew it was wrong, but the sympathy I got from sharing these hate filled messages with my own followers was addicting. My sister never wanted to be on social media to begin with, so she ended up deleting all of her accounts when the negativity became too much for her to deal with. That got me another boost of attention as I rallied against Twitter for not doing enough to prevent the harassment of women on their platform.

It wasn’t until my sister tried to take her own life that I realized the damage I was doing. I tried to pull her into my world of engagement and activism, but she wasn’t a social butterfly like me. Neither was she hardened with a thick skin against unjust criticism. Being loud and proud did not appeal to her in the least.

“I don’t want to be trans,” she said in her hospital bed.

“You want to go back to being a boy?” I asked.

“No, I just wish I could be a normal girl and not have to deal with any of this.”

She held up a bottle of hormone replacement therapy pills that she would have to take for the rest of her life. Without the drugs that would increase her estrogen and decrease her testosterone, she would revert back to a more masculine form.

“Transitioning was supposed to help,” she continued, “but all it’s done is draw attention to the hole I feel inside of me. There is an emptiness that wouldn’t be there if I was born a girl.”

“Don’t listen to what those ignorant people said,” I lied. “You’re as much of a woman as I am.”

“I don’t have a period. I can never get pregnant and give birth. Even if I had surgery, down below, it wouldn’t be the same as yours.”

I felt like a real piece of shit for having done this to my sister. She thought less of herself on account of me. We sat quietly together for a time until the solution to both of our problems came to me. I knew how I could make things right.

“You could have children, if I donated my womb to you,” I pointed out.

I floated the idea to her on a cloud of hope. She was confused more than anything.

“That’s not possible, is it?”

“It’s been done before with family members, between mothers, daughters and sisters. I think trials are being conducted with trans women.”

“But you can’t just give me your womb, don’t you need it?” she protested.

With tears in my eye, I held her hand warmly and reassured her that I did not.

“I’m not that attached to having children and I don’t want to risk losing you again. I would gladly give up my ability to procreate if it will make you whole.”

It was true enough. Honestly, I wanted her reproductive organs. The thing that would make me trans. We could trade, an even swap.

She cried. Tears were streaming down her face.

“I don’t know what to say. This is more than any sister should give of herself.”

“Periods suck,” I began, lightening the mood. “There’s cramping, bloating, tampons and trips to the bathroom, month after month without fail. I don’t think I’ll miss them very much. You’re welcome to experience all the joys of womanhood, I’ve had my fill.”

* * * * *

Very excited to announce I’ll be donating my womb to a trans woman in need, my little sister! We are currently exploring our options... (1/3)

Attempting to be included in the clinical trials that are ongoing. Your monetary support is desperately needed, long recovery period, (2/3)

not covered by insurance. Please help me to realize my sister’s dream of becoming a mother by donating what you can. Give the gift of life.
(3/3)

After setting up a GoFundMe online fundraiser with the modest goal of $100,000 dollars, I blasted the string of messages out to my followers on Twitter early the next day.

@hirsutecaribou: You’re so brave. Donating now.

@AdorableFireCracker: Signal boosting your campaign. Will encourage everyone to do the same.

The messages started popping up on my feed within moments. I was in heaven as everyone was telling me what a saint I was. The seemingly altruistic sacrifice made me a rockstar in the social justice community. My subscriber count increased by the tens of thousands. I answered every request for an interview, both to feed my ego and the growing pile of money. I loved all the publicity.

My sister was understandably shy about opening up to the public again, so I asked that her privacy be respected. It worked out best for the both of us. I got all of the attention as people to showered me with praise. It was all I ever wanted, for everyone to tell me what a good person I was.

The waiting room was distressingly quiet as I sat nervously next to my sister. She held my hand and was beaming from ear to ear. I smiled back, even though I didn’t feel like smiling. Before, the offer to give her my womb was a series of words spoken from my mouth and text on a screen. Now, it was becoming real and I suddenly wasn’t so sure about what I was doing.

For me, this was an elective surgery. I wasn’t the one diagnosed with gender dysphoria, resulting in suicidal ideation. If I walked away from all this, I could live a long and fulfilling life without undergoing the invasive procedure. For all intents and purposes, I was getting sterilized so I could be more popular online. If this was anyone other than my sister, I think I would have called it off much sooner.

Nothing would be happening today, in any event. This was just a consultation to see if we might be eligible to join one of the trials. I held out hope that maybe we would be disqualified long before I got to the operating table. That way, it would be the doctor’s fault and not mine for not going through with it.

It turns out that we were fantastic candidates. Tissue typing determined that we were a close match, lowering the risk of rejection with the transplanted organs. The doctor said something about using stem cells so we wouldn’t have to be on immunosuppressive drugs long-term. Our bodies would gradually replace the foreign cells over a number of years with those of our own, at which point we could go off medication for good.

I really didn’t want to hear the specifics of the operation. All that mattered to me was that her equipment would be fully functional at the end of it. I peppered him with questions, stressing the point over and over again. There was only a slight hint that I was concerned about the performance of my third leg, as it were, which was what I truly cared about. He assured me that it would be as if I were born with it. A limp noodle that was unresponsive to stimulation wouldn’t be ideal.

Over the next several months, I was on an emotional roller coaster with dizzying highs and terrifying lows, especially as the fundraiser money approached and then exceeded my goal. All our medical expenses would be taken care of and anything left over was going right into my pocket. I would imagine that a lot of women would make a similar donation for a nice payday like that.

On some days, I rather enjoyed the idea of having a penis. Men seemed to like having one to the point that they were rather fanatical about sex. They wanted it almost obsessively. There would be a number of them who would be turned off if their girlfriend had a dick, but I probably wouldn’t want to date any of those small-minded people anyway.

My followers were under the assumption that I was merely donating my womb, while keeping everything else. That was not accurate, but I didn’t want to reveal my intention to transition just yet. That would require some finesse and I was saving that discussion for when I was fully recuperated. I wasn’t sure how they would react. Would I be really a trans woman or just a cis woman with a dick? Medical science had only recently advanced enough to make a distinction necessary. Plus, by staggering the release of information, I could maximize the amount of fame I got from each.

Once I started spending the money I received, it was too late for any second thoughts. In addition to all the backlash, people would ask for a refund on their donation, one that I wouldn’t be able to provide with a mountain of student loan debt and a degree in gender studies. I knew from the outset that my degree wouldn’t pay well, but it was what I was most interested in. Not that anyone in my career field would want to hire me after I pulled a stunt like that, scamming people out of what was trending toward a quarter of a million dollars.
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby Cdbaby25 » Mon Mar 19, 2018 9:54 pm

i really like the social media queen one, it's very relavent to some things i've actualy seen online
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby Changing_Destiny » Thu Mar 22, 2018 5:07 am

I would suggest you try the story 'The family Curse: Mother -- Cooking with two meat and veg.' It can be read at this site: http://www.lemontreebay.rtb-uni.org

However this site uses a tier system to deal with pests, as the story I am talking about is part of the second or third tier, you are going to need to be willing to leave some reviews on other stories to gain access to it. If that's not your cup of tea, I would suggest this might not be the site for you...
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby Cdbaby25 » Mon Mar 26, 2018 11:04 pm

Changing_Destiny wrote:I would suggest you try the story 'The family Curse: Mother -- Cooking with two meat and veg.' It can be read at this site: http://www.lemontreebay.rtb-uni.org

However this site uses a tier system to deal with pests, as the story I am talking about is part of the second or third tier, you are going to need to be willing to leave some reviews on other stories to gain access to it. If that's not your cup of tea, I would suggest this might not be the site for you...


i couldn't find the family curse
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby Camille » Sat Jun 09, 2018 9:10 am

bit wrote:I went through my documents and saw that I had another unfinished f to m2f type story. It is also just the opening chapter. In this one, a SJW with a trans sister wants to "trade places" with her so she can be more popular in the social justice community. Basically, she wants to (surgically) swap her lady parts for her trans sister's male appendage.

Millennial Malcontent



Wow, what a story. Love it. You absolutely must continue it, can't wait to see what you have planned!
My blog on ladies and maids swapping roles: http://lady2maid.blogspot.com/
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Re: Woman turned into mtf transgender

Postby allthosecurves » Sun Sep 09, 2018 6:20 pm

Camille wrote:I am looking for a story where a female character is transformed into a male-to-female transsexual - ideally through surgery as opposed to magic. Is anyone aware of anything of the kind? I am not talking about a classic female-to-male transformation, but a transformation into a close approximation of an mtf transgender, i.e. the character will remain female, but would now possess some features that show that she's not a "born woman" anymore (for example, lower voice, manly face, narrower hips or absence of uterus). I remember reading something of the kind, but having difficulty locating such a story. Any clues please?


Camille, did you ever find any other stories like the one you described above?

Camille from 'Besties' [F/F, Defeminization, DG, Smoking, Humil] wrote:One potential plot that I'd love to see is a woman turned into a m2f transgender as in a strange mixture of defeminization/feminization as her real femininity is replaced with a fake one.


I would love to read this as well, where a beautiful woman's natural femininity is stolen from her and she desperately tries to dress, talk, and act like her old female self... but it can only go so far.
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