Sooooo I started this sheet yesterday before the need to study for a midterm called me away for a night, and I see that in my absence someone else submitted a gender-swapping character. I hope this isn't seen as pointless cribbing - I don't think our characters are very similar, and they should serve different roles: the other character seems to enjoy identity/gender swapping as a past time (if my quick scan was correct?). My character, on the other hand, was designed to be a supernatural/paranormal reflection of a Transwoman's life experience: coming out as a woman, going full time, learning how to be a woman while making the painful sacrifices that life demands of you for getting what you want. I think the two characters can exist very comfortably alongside one another, without stepping on each other's toes, but I will of course bow to the GMs.
: Unknown, potentially vampire, or lycanthrope.
I have no idea. Two decades of various fiction, some mythology, some rpg books, some online fiction?
Preferably Recruited. (See Bio)
PhD graduate in ancient history and mythology from a prestigious university, some work for archives. But she came seeking you.
Nothing special here.
Attracted Primarily to Males (as she needs their sexual energy to survive), but bisexual, at least.
Don't really have an On/Off List (Also, I thought this was a non-smutty rp? I'm up for smut (love it, actually), but I'm confused. As far as
Go: No Scat, Abuse, Torture, Non-Con, Bestiality, or Hard-Core D/s.
: Lingerie, Seduction, Flirtation, Romance, Vanilla Lovemaking, Fun Foods (Whipped Creme and Chocolate Syrup anyone? A Lap full of Chocolate-covered Strawberries?) Light bondage (silk scarves, fuzzy hand-cuffs), light trust games (blindfolds), light pain-for-pleasure games (ice cubes, hot wax, biting...
Playful, Friendly, Warm. Sometimes Uncertain about her gender presentation and expression (am I coming off as too-feminine, am I too butch?), sometimes doubts her own judgement, but with a hidden Assertiveness that expresses itself when pushed.
I didn't really write a Background so much as a long, story-form introduction post. Enter all ye who dare? Be warned, however, of the
All her life, she'd wanted this: to be a beautiful, sexy young woman, the kind of woman who made traffic stop, the kind of woman that men drooled over. To have lovers who pursued her for her beauty and her femininity, to have female friends who accepted her as one of their own. It had been her fantasy, her dearest wish, the prayer she uttered when she went to sleep at night, the dark bargain she was willing to sell her soul to Satan for.
She wound up doing the latter.
Growing up as a girl trapped in the body of a boy, she'd cross-dressed, she'd read about transsexuals, she'd even considered transitioning, but her parents and her siblings had made it completely clear to her through repeated beatings and threats to kick her out of the family that transitioning was something she would have to do without their 'love and support,' and she was scared to do it alone, so she kept putting it off. Her life's work had been in the study of myths and legends and ancient histories, however, and had originally been partially motivated (in her early, awkward male teen years) out of a hope that she could find some mystical cure to her problem, some magic, or spell, or artifact, or whatever that could magically - poof! - make her female, but to no avail. Now that she was older, an adult, 'he' no longer believed in those things, but when he stumbled across the legend of the Werewoman in the pages of an old book and then found - to his surprise and excitement - that there were secret internet forums devoted to 'proving' the existence of Werewomen, he began to immerse himself in the search.
Months went by, grants ran out, rent fell behind, and friends stopped calling, but eventually, 'Timothy' came upon the trail of a Werewoman who secretly (in a dark corner of the internet) offered her (very expensive!) services as an escort to men with a fetish for gender transformation. Collecting all the money he had left, Timothy arranged for a rendezvous with the Werewoman, but when he arrived at the hotel suite she had booked, he surprised her when, rather than going ahead with the sexual encounter she had expected, Timothy begged her to make him a Werewoman like herself.
She tried to turn him down, but he insisted. He begged, he cried, he pleaded. He told her his whole life story, all his secret desires, the fear holding him back, and she countered by trying to explain the perils of life as a Werewoman to him: the insatiability of the Hunger, the inability to ever come out to a mortal man for fear of his rejection, and, even worse, the other, truly dark things that went bump in the night, in the world in which she resided.
Some of those truly dark things revealed themselves a few moments later, when the door to the hotel room burst open and a squad of monstrous looking humanoid forms - ghouls, Timothy would realize later - charged into the room and tried to seize ahold of the Werewoman, growling some barely comprehensible gibberish about a 'Master' and his 'hunger.' Timothy would later discover, to her trepidation, that Werewoman blood was considered something of an aphrodisiac to a host of monstrous creatures, and that Werewomen in general - since they could be held as slaves to their lust and Hunger - could be made into the perfect harem for an immortal with a taste for beautiful women who would never age so long as they occasionally got screwed.
The Werewoman fought back of course, and Timothy, not knowing what else to do, helped, but the number of Ghouls was overwhelming - dozens. Realizing that her resistance was hopeless, the Werewoman suddenly turned on Timothy, slashing his arm open with the sword she had pulled out from under the bed and then pressing his bleeding arm to one of her open wounds. The last words that the surprised Timothy heard as a ghoul came up behind him and thwacked him over the head with a mallet was "Come find me, please!"
When Timothy next awoke he was in a hospital bed, and he was very horny. Surrounded by police officers who wanted to know what had happened there and doctors who wanted to know how he had recovered so quickly from what they had thought was irreversible damage to his skull and brain,Timothy thought fast and coughed up some placating answers to the questions he was being asked, all the while noticing how aroused he was by some of the more attractive male policemen and young doctors crowded around him. Having never experienced an attraction to men before (outside of his fantasies) Timothy began to get excited, wondering if perhaps the mixing of his blood with the Werewoman's the night before might actually have done what he'd heard it could. Could he already be a Werewoman himself, waiting for his first transformation?
There was no full moon that night, or the next, so to his very great disappointment Timothy had to wait over 48 hours to find out that his hopes were true, and by then he had all but given up on them. The arousal he was feeling never seemed to go away, however, and only got more and more demanding over time. For the first day after his release from the hospital Timothy found himself being turned on by the most confusing things - a TV host, a man in the coffee shop by his apartment, a man walking his dog on the way back to his apartment, one of the male leads of Gotham, his favorite current TV show. The next day was even worse: walking across the street with the last box of his possessions and loading up a moving van (after being kicked out his apartment for being three months behind on his rent) Timothy found himself being turned on by any half-decent looking guy who happened to walk by him on the street. Finally, late that evening after the sun had already set, when one strapping young man (in his late 20s, by the look of him) kindly offered to help him finish packing up the van after he'd had some difficulty getting his mattress in by himself (none of his friends, who hadn't heard from him in six months until today, had bothered to show up and help him move, knowing he'd only ask to crash at their place), Timothy suddenly found himself on his knees, moaning, watching his body shift and change (his body shrinking, breasts rising from his chest, his hair lengthening, his body sprouting curves..) as he swiftly and suddenly became one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Seducing the young man who had offered to help him move with her new abilities, the new girl convinced him to let her stay with him for a while, until she got a place to stay, and they went off together, enjoying a long night of sex as the new girl discovered the joys of her new body and her young lover got to enjoy her enjoying herself.
For the next few days, Timothy - who had renamed herself Gabrielle after getting a good look at herself in her lover's mirror - had lived in a magical fantasy get away, enjoying her newfound beauty, femininity, and sexuality to the hilt. She and her new lover - Ramon - went out shopping the next day to buy her a new wardrobe (with HIS money), and then after a romantic dinner had wound back in bed together again. The next day, dancing at the local club was followed by yet more sex. As she was getting sex regularly, she was able to maintain her female form most of the time - although at one point, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in her limbs, a looseness in her bra, and hearing her voice drop an octave in mid-conversation, she had all but jumped on Ramon to suck his cock and get some more of the sexual energy that her pre-change research had suggested was key to maintaining her female form - for over three days. But as time went on, the last words of the Werewoman who had - perforce, of course, and not by choice, but still - given Timothy - Gabrielle - what she had always wanted came back to haunt her.
"Come find me, please!"
Going back online with Ramon's computer, Gabrielle had begun searching some of the links that had led her to Anastasia (the Werewoman who had passed her 'curse' on to her) and had widened her search, beginning to look for other paranormal or supernatural aspects to the underground world in which Anastasia (and the ghouls who had seized her) had lived. Her search was mostly fruitless. There were rumors, of course, about vampires, werewolves, demons, ghouls, slender men, and more, but no hard facts. Anastasia had only come forward because she needed money, Gabrielle now realized, and that exposure had gotten her seized. The rest of the supernatural world was much less likely to expose itself on the internet, for anyone to stumble across.
And yet, there was this one thing that she kept coming across. Rumors of an organization, something in between a secret order and a private investigative company, which seemed to market itself as a possible answer to that which went bump in the night. The first time that Gabrielle stumbled across it, she'd blown it off, chalking it up there with wanna-be Ghostbusters and Paranormal Detectives, but it kept coming back up in her search results - shadow blogs referred to it, urban myth websites mentioned it in passing, and even a few message boards made note that someone the poster knew had encountered the organization, and been helped by them.
Intrigued, Gabrielle had jotted down everything she could find about where the organization was located, and how to contact them, but all of her attempts to do so led to dead-ends and vanished trails. Giving up, feeling the ever-persistent itch inside of her beginning to make its presence known again, she had called Ramon home from the garage where he worked, fixed him a nice dinner of pasta and meatballs (fancying herself quite the successful feminine homemaker in the process - she had been toying with fantasies about maintaining her relationship with Ramon indefinitely - and then got him into bed to fuck her again.
Except that this time it all went horribly wrong. In the middle of her orgasm, as all the pleasure came crashing down on her, Gabrielle suddenly felt something rise up inside of her, an unnatural need, a crazed HUNGER, and sitting halfway up in bed she seized ahold of Ramon in grip that he couldn't shake and held his slowly emptying cock inside of her as he emptied himself. And then she demanded more from him. Somehow, she didn't really know how, she TOOK more from him than he could normally give her. Somehow, he just kept giving her something ... something more. There was more cum than usual, but it was really about something ... other than physical, something that made her head loll back around her shoulders, made her scream and cry out in ecstasy that was NOT sexual, but something altogether different, more dangerous, and more monstrous, and she'd kept taking more, and more, and MORE from her lover until, suddenly, there was no more to be had.
Coming out of the red haze that had consumed her, the Hunger that she could not control, Gabrielle had shrieked and cried out at the shrunken, emaciated form of the emasculated, enfeebled, almost skeletal man who lay between her legs. His eyes were wide and empty, and his mouth hung open like a dog's. He just stared at her with a rapt, reverent expression that had nothing of Ramon's usual wit or sarcastic flirtation, and croaked at her, calling her "Mistress," for the first time.
Shrieking, Gabrielle had kicked the shrunken thing that had been Ramon out of her bed and fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Sitting on the floor of the bathroom, she sobbed and rocked herself back and forth as she heard the Ramon-thing stumble down the hallway after her, calling her 'Mistress' over and over in his croaking voice and weeping when she wouldn't open the door to him. Suddenly, Gabrielle wasn't excited about her new form anymore. Suddenly she was horrified, repulsed by horrible thing she had done to Ramon, the horrible things she had been doing to him since she met him (manipulating him into fucking her, taking her home, letting her live with him, and buying her clothes...) and the monstrous Hunger inside of her that was STILL not fully sated.
She'd stayed in the bathroom all night after that, until the Ramon-thing, increasingly crazed and distraught by her refusal to let him see her, went into the kitchen and plunged a knife into his chest. Then she'd fled, taking all of her belongings and as much of Ramon's cash as she could squeeze out of his ATM and disappearing into the night. With the money she'd stolen from her dead lover, she'd gotten herself a hotel room and cried herself to sleep early in the morning.
When finally came out of her horrified stupor, two days later, Gabrielle discovered that she had shifted back into Timothy's body while she slept, and although she missed her beauty, her femininity, her curves, and just being a woman, she felt strangely relieved, relieved not to be the monstrous thing that had stolen a man's life force and turned him into a sick, pathetic shadow of his former self, something so enslaved to her that he killed himself out of despair over not being able to see her. In that moment, staring back in the mirror at the face of the man she had been for 28 years (until this week) Gabrielle-as-Timothy had tearfully vowed that he would never become Gabrielle again, that he would never let what had happened to Ramon happen to anyone else, ever again, even if it meant that he would never ever be a woman - be herself - again.
That resolve only lasted 72 hours.
For the first 24, Gabrielle - as Timothy - had been pretty okay. Although the urge was there, Timothy had been able to focus on trying to find a new place to live, a new job. He'd even gone walking around the neighborhood, looking for 'For Rent' signs. With the money Gabrielle had stolen from Ramon, Timothy knew he'd be able to pay a deposit if he was only able to find a job first, so he looked for work - first at the local libraries (public and private), and then stopping at any 'Help Wanted' sign he could find. All day long, he prided himself on his ability to see an attractive man, note his attractiveness, and then shift his attention away. The next day, however, was harder. During his interview at the local Arby's, where he had applied (on the basis of his PhD) for an open Shift Manager job, Timothy had encountered some difficulty taking his mind off of the male interviewer's handsome, chiseled jaw, and he had needed to shift in his seat a few times to keep his growing arousal from becoming uncomfortable. Later that night, when touring an apartment that was for rent not far from the Arby's, he had encountered similar difficulties with the attractive young male leasing agent. But the third day was the real kicker. Just as before, on the day when he had moved out of his last apartment, Timothy had found himself oogling men who were just walking up and down the street beside him, and he was aroused all day. He also thought that at times he could almost feel Gabrielle's body pushing at the surfaces of his skin, tempting him by how real she was, how real she could be, if he would only give in to the Hunger, let it take a hold of him...
The manager at Arby's had been Gabrielle's second lover. Half-way through their second interview, while 'Jim' was showing Timothy around the store, the two men had gone into the back office, and Timothy, feeling the lust and the need rising inside of him, making him shiver all over, against his better judgement, had shut the door to the tiny office behind him as he'd entered. Just when Jim started to ask what he was doing, Timothy suddenly moaned, shifting quickly back into Gabrielle. Although Jim had initially started to freak out, by the time he'd gotten his hands on the door, Timothy-as-Gabrielle had gotten her eyes back, and her voice, and she had quickly seduced Jim into backing away from the door, pulling his trousers down, and screwing her in the office chair. In the middle of her orgasm, Gabrielle had once again felt the Hunger beginning to rise, but this time she clamped down on it, squeezing her eyes shut and concentrating on just riding out her orgasm, and hopped off of Jim as soon as she felt the Hunger beginning to abate. When she opened her eyes again she was relieved to see that Jim was still, well, Jim, but she was disconcerted to feel the Hunger snaking its way through her insides, whispering to her that it wasn't quite sated yet, that it would very much like to taste whatever else Jim had to offer.
It had taken an extreme act of well and self-control, but about three minutes later Gabrielle had gathered up what was left of Timothy's clothes (after Jim had all but ripped it off of her), sashayed her way out of Jim's office, and never returned.
Realizing now that she could not avoid giving in to her Hunger, that she could not live without being Gabrielle, without fucking men and taking enough of their sexual energy to slake the Hunger for at least a little while, Gabrielle resolved to master the Hunger so that she would never again be the monster that she had been that night with Ramon a week ago. She would avoid transforming for as long as possible, and have only so much sex as she needed to avoid losing control. For the next few weeks, Gabrielle experimented with her new life as a Werewoman. She discovered that after one act of sex she could maintain her female form (which she was still delighted to finally possess, despite the horrifying price that her lovers had to pay if she lost control of it) for about 30 hours afterwards, and as often as not woke up male sometime around 6am two days later. The next morning would be spent desperately trying to stave off the need to transform again, but running on only one act of sex from two days ago sometime in the early evening she would manage to get herself alone with a good looking man, transform into her female form, screw him, ask him for whatever money he had on him (which he would always give), and then move on.
In this way she managed to support herself through five, painful weeks. Living an existence which horrifyingly alternated between being a man (for no more than twelve hours at a time every two days) with no life of his own, enslaved to the monstrous goddess that he had wanted to be his entire life and still adored, as much as he feared and was horrified by her, and being a heartrendingly beautiful woman who existed only to have sex with a random man, once, fleece him for his cash, and then whole up inside her ever-more-claustrophobic hotel room for the next day and a half after that, not daring to risk spending any time outside, for fear that she might give in to her desires, flirt with a hot guy, and take him home only to steal his life force and leave him a ruined shell of a man. It wasn't life. Or living. It was miserable, unendurable, endless existing.
Even being a woman for two-thirds of the time eventually stopped buoying Gabrielle's spirits, because she wasn't really allowed to LIVE as a woman. She only became one to get fucked, and then hid in a hotel room the rest of the time. She wasn't living as a woman, the way she had always dreamed, she was HIDING, just as much as she had when she was a girl inside a boy's body, just with a different cage this time. She was also, depressingly, becoming aware of just how unfeminine and unwomanly she was, as a woman. Her first attempts to brush her long, beautiful hair were a disaster, and she blessed the magic that gave her perfect hair every time she transformed. Her dozen attempts at applying makeup were abortive failures - CLOWNS looked less Clownish - and she realized (watching a LOT of TV over those five weeks) that she didn't even have the basic fashion sense of a tomboy, let alone a classy femme. When it came right down to it, she realized, one night, crying into a tub of ice cream as she contemplated this being her life for the rest of her existence, she had no idea how to actually BE a woman. She'd just had a crazy fantasy, let it get out of hand, and had sold her soul to the devil for its fulfillment. She was also failing to follow through on trying to find help for Anastasia, a fact which haunted her every waking moment. But how could she get help for Anastasia, when she couldn't even control her own Hunger?
This existence likely would have gone on forever, had not it ultimately failed to prevent her from becoming the monster she was so desperately trying to deny she was. One night, five weeks into her new, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am routine, Gabrielle had found herself unable to let go of Juan, the night watchman at the AMC whom she had seduced into an empty theatre after Timothy had transformed in front of him on his way out of a movie. Straddling his hips after her first orgasm, Gabrielle had looked down at Juan and knew she had to go, and actually tried to go, but found that she couldn't make herself get up. The Hunger inside of her had coiled itself around her heart, her limbs, and was holding her down, holding her in place. Looking down at Juan's cute, barely stubbled 20-year-old college boy's cheeks, Gabrielle had felt a sense of horror grow inside of her mind as she felt her body, against her will, clamp down around Jaun, pulling out of him the same vitality and sexual energy that she had ripped from Ramon all those weeks ago. She just couldn't stop herself.
"No," she cried out, trying to push herself off of Juan as she saw him beginning to waste away. "No, get away from me. Get away from me before its too late!" She swatted at him with her hands, but couldn't make her pull herself away from him. Suddenly she realized that all of her attempts to keep the Hunger at bay by giving it just enough to keep it from taking over her had failed spectacularly. She hadn't been learning to control the Hunger - she'd merely been postponing the day when it would overpower her again. Groaning as she felt Jaun's vitality flow into her, filling her, empowering her with its delicious richness, she cried out again. "Juan run!!!"
But it was too late. The light was already leaving Juan's eyes, replaced by an empty, adoring devotion that was all consuming. A moment later, Juan was gone, replaced by a shrunken, emasculated, enfeebled creature who only barely resembled his former self. As soon as she had control over her body again, she pushed herself away from him and scrambled back into her clothes, eyes wide with horror as the thing that had been Juan began to observe its new form, curiosity turning to slowly building horror as it turned back towards her and croaked "Mistress... Mistress... why...?"
"OH god!" Gabrielle cried, retching all over the floor before she turned and fled. She never looked back, but as she reached the top of the theatre, she heard Jaun crying out after her, and she knew that she had effectively destroyed another human being's life.
That night, back in her hotel room, after hours of crying on the bathroom floor and rocking herself back and forth, Gabrielle suddenly looked up through tear-stained eyes at the full-length mirror and saw herself for what she was. She wasn't just a girl, trying to keep the monster inside of herself from getting out. She WAS a monster. She was a Werewoman. And if she was ever going to have any kind of life as a woman, as this woman, she needed to come to grips with that, come to grips with the hunger inside of her, learn to deal with it, learn to control it, learn to master it - not by hiding from it, running from it - but by conquering it head on.
She made a decision then. She would stop living this half life. She would stop clinging to who she had been - a mortal, a human, a girl trapped in a boy's body - and embrace who she had become: a woman, a Werewoman. A monster. She knew that if she had at least a little sex every night she could more or less indefinitely maintain her female form, and in that moment, she chose to make that her goal. To be a woman, to learn how to be a woman, and to live life as one. And by live life, she swore to herself, she meant that she would find happiness again. She would find affection, she would find friends, she would find a purpose and a reason for her life, she would find new hobbies, she would make new families, and she would have love.
And step one, she decided, was finding this mysterious 'Circle of Shadows,' and asking them to help her find Anastasia.
Pulling herself back up off of the floor, Gabrielle stumbled out of the bathroom, dropped onto her hotel bed, pulled her laptop onto her lap, and resumed her search.
Timothy used to read a lot. Gabrielle isn't really sure what she wants to do with her free time yet...
Catalina Otalvaro. And just because I found 4 pics and could only fit 2 up there, here's some face-shots!
The big cool looking forum banner.