This Body is Mine Now
The old me was a total screw-up, no matter how nicely you tried to spin it. Orphan. High school dropout. Minimum-wage drone at some tiny company. I'd ditched studying early on—never my thing anyway—and now my pathetic specs were all I had going for me.
The one silver lining? Grade 5 exemption from military service, the kind they call "son of God." I'd joke around as a kid, saying I'd lost one eye saving the world or some bullshit like that to dress up my disability. It barely inconvenienced daily life and technically qualified as a handicap. Pretty convenient, right? Calling a disability "convenient" might sound off, but... well, if my eyes had been fine, maybe I wouldn't have ended up an orphan. Still, snagging that lowest-grade Grade 6 disability let me squeeze into a small company's quota spot. No real daily hassles, so maybe I gained more than I lost.
Up to here, you might think I'm just your average hard-luck case. But the real mess wasn't my specs—it was my personal life. Solo forever. Otaku. Masturbation addict. And some seriously twisted kinks I could barely handle. Four crowns in failure. My last shred of pride as a man, my masculinity, my societal norms—they all clung to the fact I hadn't dipped into anal or gay stuff. If I'd hit five crowns, I might've started entertaining seriously bad thoughts right when a guy's supposed to be at his sharpest.
If I'd had even one of a man's big-ticket values—looks, body, masculinity, money—maybe I'd have had some confidence. But nope, nothing for me. Gyms? Too damn expensive. Doubts hit, so I quit the job. Conflicts with coworkers in a female-dominated workplace. Emotional burnout inevitable in service gigs. Nonexistent benefits. Stagnant pay for two years. "Vacation" days I couldn't actually use. Looking back, why the hell didn't I quit sooner?
After quitting, I lived wild, almost feral. My week looked like this: eat, sleep, game. Masturbate, sleep, masturbate. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Not a human life. A life of base urges. And a week and a day after quitting... I became a woman.
Like any other day, I wake up at 10 a.m. As an unemployed bum now, I could've slept longer, but my body—tuned to commute hours—pops awake at 10 and crashes by midnight.
But something's off. My body feels light getting out of bed. Lighter than my poorly maintained old self, anyway. Except for the definite weight up top.
Sensing something wrong, I force open my half-closed, groggy eyes. And there it is: my field of vision filled with a feast of two glorious hills.
"...?"
I bolt to the bathroom mirror and freeze in shock. Staring back is a total stranger—a stunningly beautiful woman. Cute-yet-fierce eyes somewhere between idol and delinquent vibes. Tiny face, killer proportions. And the unmistakable star of the show: those breasts, asserting their presence loud and clear. Not quite foreign-model huge, but top 1% in Korea, easy.
Squish—
I touch them like I'm mesmerized. ...What? It's just a guy's instinct, right? Even in those famous gender-swap animes, they grope their new tits right away. Men go nuts for boobs—pure biology. That's all it is.
...Guilt creeps in, so I make excuses to myself, but the more I do, the uglier it feels.
Squish—
"Oh..."
Screw it. I decide to just give in to desire. It's my body now. Who's gonna say shit? No one can judge me.
After a quick check and wash-up, I deal with the long hair cascading everywhere—annoyingly inconvenient. No wonder people tie it up.
A bit more awake, I scan the room. Same as when I was a guy. Tiny one-room in Seoul—great deal for the price. Small, but fine for one person. Closet still full of my old guy clothes. Sizes... unchanged. My viewpoint hasn't dropped much either. This new body's tall-ish, but my old guy self was way below average height anyway.
Resident Registration Number: 041130-4·····
Accepting reality doesn't take long. Gender swaps like this—TS tropes—are common in the webnovels I devoured. Pretty popular on my platforms. Way back, sick of the same old grind, I'd pray every night to wake up a super-cute girl. Meant it back then. Gave up when reality hit, but now... TS out of nowhere? Hell yeah.
Squish—
"Whoa..."
One more squeeze, and I get it completely.
"...Should I start with a dildo?"
Heh heh heh.
The world has truths you kinda don't wanna know. Plenty of 'em. Like how fake cocks—dildos—get classified as both female and male adult toys. Or that reviews are often more "precise" from guys.
"Makes sense... tastes vary..."
Sure. Social norms are just that—social. Sex is some primal instinct far from society anyway. Judging it with societal rulers? Probably wrong from the start. Hell, I'm the one searching this stuff...
"But I'm a girl now, right?"
Whatever. A girl can buy a dildo or two... Gulp. So why's my face burning and throat tightening?
Beats me. Really.
Luckily, my resident number—changed in just one digit—works fine. Phone number's the same too. Wild. A whole gender swap, and only my ID changes? Sure it can!
If you're asking about relationships... please don't. I have friends—online counts, okay?
"...Whoa."
Adult verification done, red 19+ markers vanish, revealing a new world. Realistic human-like ones. Super-huge monster cocks. And...
"...That goes in?"
...For real? At least forearm-thick? No way that fits a human body. But there it was, greeting me.
Click—
Mesmerized, I tap the product details. Something even huger awaits.
"XXL... 30cm?"
Gulp.
Face heats up again, saliva flows. 30cm... I grab a ruler, press it to my lower belly. A brand-new sensation hits—not just my face, but down there too. Something my guy body never felt.
But I'm too fixated on that 30cm against my belly. Past the navel, easy. Belly bulging's just doujin fantasy, right?
My eyes catch more specs.
...10cm? Diameter? ???
Ruler again. Bigger than my fist, for sure... Wow...
Today, I might've peeked into a whole new world.
I zone out browsing. Hit up pure adult toy sites too... Screens packed with vicious-looking dildos—a sight to behold. Stuff I'd have shrugged off as "wild" before now grips my gaze hard.
After some window-shopping bliss, I add my targets one by one.
"Oh, I've seen this."
The iconic pink rotor vibrator, queen of women's toys.
...Buy three. Why? Can use 'em multiple spots.
Plus, community recs: lube gel, beginner dildo, mid-tier black BBC for looks, and...
Click—
A massive one with insane ridges, piercings, ornaments. L-size.
Probably never use it. But one look at that monstrous thing, and I added it.
Total racks up more than expected. That L-size beast commands a price matching its girth, dominating the cart.
But I don't care. Back to details...
...And just like that, my hand slides down below.