Note: This is without a doubt one of my favorite TF scenes of all time. I thought it lost for years until someone helped figure out that it’s a “Medallion of Zulo” story from fictionmania.tv! I’m reposting my favorite section here with some minor edits for Tumblr. The full story contains gender-swapping, but this part focuses on mostly consensual age-regression.
The door whipped open from the inside, pulling the keys from Chris’s hands. He smiled to greet his wife, but was stopped cold by an unfamiliar face.
“Hello. You must be Mrs. Hartley’s husband.”
She was young, very young, too young, too damn young to be so pretty, with that pert cheerleader nose, and blonde hair that hung loose over her shoulders, around her face, and only seemed to find sexier and sexier ways of messing up itself. His next glance–done before he could help himself- -shot straight down her tank top. Oh god, creamy white breasts, small and perky, nipples as upturned as that sorority girl nose of hers. Who was she and how could he get rid of her before his dick jumped out of his pants and into her–
“Where’s, uh, my wife?”
The girl backed away. It didn’t help. Her tank top was short, and her smooth white belly peeked out and winked at him. He swore that little “inney” of hers was teasing him. Everything about this girl was a tease; she couldn’t help herself; her body seemed designed for it. Her bra was black he noticed; the straps were not very well concealed. The sprinkles of freckles that ran up and down her arms (like sensual constellations) made him lose track of his thoughts.
” . . . back in a few hours. She said I could hang out here until she got back. That’s okay . . . isn’t it?”
Do you also write about [insert race] transformation?
This is a question that’s come up a couple of times over the years. I get variations on it, but Indian is by far the most common one.
While I gotten some really solid, hot prompts before – in my head I’m immediately hitting blind spots. Big fuzzy areas on cultural views on sex, social hierarchy, gender roles, family, etc.
Most of my writing on East Asian Americans girls comes from a place of knowing (second hand) what it actually can be like as 1st or 2nd gen immigrant – and then twisting is against stereotypes and racist shit they deal with IRL.
On the other end, of transformation – if it’s something I can go totally fictional? Give me.. idk, maybe ‘Dark Elves’? I can work with that.
But as a teen, I actually was close friends with a second-gen Indian-American girl.
I know she dated a couple white boys and it was an issue.
I know she had never set foot in India, but had to participate in traditions that felt foreign and awkward.
I know all this – her family dynamic, her feelings, the names and general concepts in very, very broad strokes…
And that oddly puts the Indian-American experience in an uncanny valley for me.
I know just enough to have a sense of where it should go, but I’m missing the nuance to fill in the blanks. There are these juicy twists and internal conflicts I can see outlines of – and they’re just clear enough that I don’t feel right coloring them in half-blind.
I don’t write about Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Vietnamese and Filipina race change because I know how to make it accurate. It’s the opposite – I know just enough to warp it and twist it. I know how to make it wrong and pervert it for selfish enjoyment.
So, I don’t write Indian race/cultural change for any moral reason. If anything, it’s because I can’t subvert the culture properly