The amount of time we’ve spent talking about the idea of a body swap, you’d think I’d have written something filthy on the subject by now. It amazes me that the compulsion to do so only hit me recently. But it hit me with force and power, so let’s go. I want to imagine what it would be like if you and I could swap bodies.

Note: I’m cisgender, as is the guy I’m talking about doing a body swap with. I think topics like this could potentially throw up difficult feelings if you’re struggling with dysphoria at the moment so it’s probably worth flagging before we begin, in case this isn’t something you want to read right now. 

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Today’s wonderful guest blogger was introduced to me by fellow sex blogger Sundial – one of the things that’s really cool about sex blogging is when you see other people going ‘ooh I could do that!’ and picking up the baton to write smut of their own. So I’m delighted to introduce D34U with a creative piece of erotic fiction all about good people getting just rewards: a turn at the glory hole, in recognition of their good work. If you enjoy this piece, click the link to follow D34U on Mastodon and check out some of his other work on Sundial’s blog too – a vampiric Halloween tale and a fantasy about a wife’s first threesome. In the meantime… have you been good? Like ‘human rights lawyer’ or ‘doctor without borders’ good? Then you might be eligible for a turn at the glory hole on the Phoenix Manor Volunteer Appreciation Day…

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Today’s guest blog is something a little different: an extract from a book by Gloria Sync, who writes queer life-affirming sex-positive erotic magical fiction. Her first book – Swinella – is published independently by Dirty Sexy Words (click that link to grab a copy!) so to introduce it properly, I’ll hand over to the publisher Zak Jane Keir…

“About a year ago, I read Swinella for the first time. I was the first person, other than the author, to read it and it absolutely blew me away. I thought back then that everyone else needed to meet Swinella, that this was a character and a story whose time has come, and that seems even more the case now…”

Swinella is a bestiamorph, one of a small percentage of people whose sexual predilections manifest themselves as animal characteristics during adolescence. Follow pig-girl Swinella’s curly tail as she leaves her small-town origins behind and heads for Hamden Town, a kaleidoscopic London neighbourhood where teenage tribes, music, self-expression and sexual freedom collide in a dizzying whirlwind of endless possibility. Set in a parallel world in nineteen eighty three, with a supporting cast of cat-girl dominatrixes, dog-boy skinheads, witches, demons, rabbits and goats, Swinella is the filthiest, funniest and most heart-warming book you’ll read all year.

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This glorious fantasy story is written and read by Molly Moore, and originally appeared on her website – MollysDailyKiss. Note that this story contains elements of non consensual kidnap and dubious consent that turns into consensual non consent/ravishment. It contains fear and terror, creature/human sex, tentacles, and copious amounts of jizz.

Why did I do it? Like so many things that we do on impulse, in a fit of madness it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, as he guided me into the cave, I was not so sure.

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I wrote this last week when I was excited to go to a festival, pondering whether this might be the first time I ever got laid at one. I always have this romantic fantasy of finding a festival boyfriend – someone who I can snog while the bands are on, who then disappears into the night, not seen again until (perhaps) next year. But then every time I go to a festival with the aim of getting laid, I fail. But failure here is sweet and this is why. 

He catches your eye in the beer tent, your festival boyfriend. Gives you a smile and a nod. Mouths ‘cool shirt’ and lifts his plastic pint in a casual salute. You smile back, flushing hot with nervous energy, and wonder if you should go over and say hello. But you’re struggling to catch the attention of the stoner who’s working the bar, and you’ve got to get back to your friends. Besides, by the time you turn round, full hands sticky with cider, he’s gone. Your festival boyfriend has disappeared into the crowd.

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