Monday night, when Luna came home from work and I served her the dinner I’d made – just a simple rice bowl with tofu and vegetables – the atmosphere was a bit awkward.

  No one knew what I’d done, except for maybe Snuffles, but the guilt still lingered, causing me to avoid Luna’s gaze and doubly avoid looking at her body – fearing memories of earlier would return.

  Luna herself didn’t seem to be in much of a better mood, at least from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, and while on any other day I would’ve asked about it, that would’ve gone against my pn to avoid her.

  Not to mention the fact that I needed to hurry and clean up the kitchen so I could get more work done – my earlier stunt had taken up nearly two hours of my time, including the forty minutes spent cleaning the bathroom. I didn’t deserve to waste so much time on indulging my inappropriate fantasies when I still needed to find a job.

  So our dinner together was silent and moody, giving way to the two of us cleaning up the dishes together, me not having the will to tell her I could handle it and her… Well I couldn’t be sure what was going on in her head, but she was wearing a scowl the whole time, so…

  Afterwards, Luna went to the couch to cuddle up with Snuffles in front of the tv, giving me time to work on my job search. Only a few minutes in, however, I started to lose interest, my mind wandering much the same as when I was in my feminine body.

  Damn, my dysphoria is affecting me even in my normal body now…

  My wandering mind, split between fantasising about masturbating again and getting a job, led me down a line of thinking that was… perhaps unconventional.

  What if I could just turn into a woman and have sex for money?

  I blinked, staring at the job postings on my ptop screen.

  Wait, that’s just prostitution, and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal… What about masturbating for money, surely that would be fun?

  I opened a private tab in my browser, morbidly curious more than anything else, and typed into the search bar.

  Much to my surprise, dozens of sites popped up, all promising to show me videos and live streams of women masturbating.

  Oh, porn is a thing…

  I’d already known that porn existed, of course, but it had never been important to me, given that I’d never enjoyed it, struggling to find something enjoyable in a sea of content that seemed to be designed for aliens. I’d found myself disgusted more often than intrigued when it came to straight content – obviously, given I was gay – but at the same time, there was something lifeless and boring about watching gay male content.

  All of that was beside the point, however. The question wasn’t whether I was interested in consuming porn, it was whether I was interested in making it. While I had no illusions that it would be easy – I’d already had a taste of how hard video production was – I would certainly be at an advantage, able to assume a different identity for my filming, and I’d already felt interest in having casual sex in a woman’s body.

  That left the questions of whether it was okay to pretend to be a woman and whether I was okay with other people watching me have sex.

  It doesn’t really matter, as long as I’m ambiguous about my gender, right? I don’t want to appropriate a non-binary identity, but if I dress however I want to – which will probably end up being pretty masculine – and don’t answer any questions about my gender or pronouns, I’m not technically lying…

  As for the second question, it couldn’t hurt to try. It’s not like anyone would be able to connect the redhead back to me even if my body is posted all over the internet for people to ogle.

  I froze, my thoughts coming to an end.

  Is it really that simple? I have a new avenue to look for work?

  I began googling, figuring out what to expect and what local options I had.

  —

  The next day, I had appointments – or rather ‘Sarah’ had appointments. I got dressed in my normal clothes, the baggy shirt almost reaching my knees, while my khaki shorts had to remain unbuttoned to fit around my hips. My oversized flip-flops spped against the concrete below me as I walked to the subway, eyes darting back and forth to see if anyone was staring at me, on the verge of calling me out as a fake.

  No one was, although a few women did shoot me concerned looks on the train, to which I responded with a grin, assuring them I was fine and had dressed myself like this on purpose.

  The feeling that I was in over my head should've come during my first appointment, when the receptionist asked me for my ID and I had to sheepishly leave, apologising for ‘forgetting’ it.

  That feeling really should’ve struck after I figured out how to grow a fake ID using my shapeshifting on my fingernail – yes it was really gross, but it felt like normal pstic – and I went to my second appointment, where they handed me a series of forms asking me basic questions along with requesting a copy of my most recent STD test.

  But somehow I persevered, making it all the way to the st form, where they asked about birth control and my menstrual cycle, and I finally realised what I was in for. I wasn’t just having sex with strangers for money, nor was I just doing so on camera – I was also possibly risking pregnancy, not just appropriating a feminine body for my own profit and sick pleasure, but also appropriating the responsibilities and dangers that came along with being a woman, whether I wanted to or not.

  I finally observed my surroundings, the white-walled office with grey carpet seeming just a bit dingier than my initial cursory appraisal. I’d come here, without doing any meaningful research, unknowingly risking my own safety, and for what? To fulfil a fantasy?

  But that wasn’t the only reason, was it? This wasn’t for my own pleasure – I was here to make money, to prove to my family and to myself that I could support myself. And so, when a man in a suit came out into the waiting room and asked for ‘Sarah’, I followed, straying deeper into the building.

  Of course, reality wasn’t that foreboding. The man I was following was generic and uninteresting as one could be in the city, a medium build with pale skin and light brown hair trimmed short. The most noteworthy thing about him was that his loafers were brown, despite the fact that his pants and belt were bck.

  I scowled as I sat into the hard pstic chair across from his plush leather one, more annoyed than worried at this point. He began our conversation by introducing himself again – not that I cared to pay attention any more this time – and giving me a long list of ptitudes about how considerate they are with their actresses and how great it is to work for them.

  Who knew being a sick pervert would be so boring…?

  I’d pnned to role-py Sarah as being into everything, willing to push boundaries and try anything – thinking that It’d be useful for making money – but we never even got that far. Instead, once he finally came around to asking me questions, he stuck on complete nonsense, asking about my work ethic and acting experience.

  Finally, his st question came: “So, Sarah, I’ve discussed the company a lot over the course of our conversation, and I’m wondering if there’s anything that sticks out to you – that makes you really want to be a part of our team. We’re always looking to take feedback from our actresses.” He raised one eyebrow, leaning back in his chair as if he’d just said something profound.

  I sighed bitterly, already having lost the will to suppress such outbursts. “Yea…” I gnced down at his namepte, “Gary, I think the company is doing some really good things – and I’d be excited to work with someone who’s interested in taking my feedback,” I nodded along to my own words, hoping that if I convinced myself what I was saying made sense, Gary would buy it too.

  Thankfully he began nodding along, adding his own reiterating of the same nonsense before thanking me and dismissing me.

  I huffed a sigh, thankful I’d only scheduled two interviews, before exiting the building and heading home to rest.

  —

  I checked my email the next day, after Luna had already left for work, finding something in the inbox I’d set up for Sarah. ‘Thank you for…’ I groaned, not needing to read the rest; I was plenty familiar with rejection letters.

  Damn, I can’t even cheat and use magic to get a job – am I actually just useless? Or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough – maybe I secretly want to stay unemployed, live off my mom’s money forever…

  Bitterness swirled in me. I hadn’t thought my interview with Gary had gone well… but it had gone good enough, right?

  Apparently not, and now I had to try again, give up on the idea altogether, or…

  I did a quick google search, checking the prices for a cost-effective tripod, camera, and lighting setup.

  It’s not that bad, right? You gotta spend money to make money…?

  I ordered the items before my impulse could fade, hoping I could distract myself from my poor decision by coming up with ways to hide the equipment from Luna, given we shared such a small space together..

  I ignored the excitement bubbling up in me when I thought about posting lewd photos or videos of Sarah on the internet, instead moving on to research how to market, how to pay taxes if I’m self employed, how to edit photos, how to…

  —

  The next few days were tough. While I was waiting for my shipment, I set up my accounts and did more pnning and research. But what was really tough was my retionship with Luna. We’d gotten along fine for nearly two decades – and we’d had disruptive events before – but the combination of being stuck together in an enclosed space while I was unable to share the most important thing going on in my life with her made every meal together and every night in the same bed just a bit more tense than it otherwise would’ve been. There were also her own issues, the stress she was dealing with at her job, and I didn’t know how to help. So we existed in the same space, eating, breathing and sleeping in parallel, but never engaging with each other beyond pleasantries.

  And then my equipment finally arrived.

  I dragged the packages into my living room, gd they’d come in the middle of a weekday, and stared at them for a moment, Snuffles doing the same from a safe distance.

  Is this really going to work? Am I really going to do this?

  The answer was no, at least to the second question – Sarah was going to do this, and an important part of this would be understanding her character and what kind of decisions she would make, what she would take joy in and what she would be embarrassed by.

  My body shifted as I bent over to pick the smallest box up and carry it into my room. Sarah was going to set it all up and, if there was time, do a short photo session for the three followers I already had – she’d stolen a dress out of Luna’s closet and taken a couple of clothed selfies for the accounts, leading to her first couple fans.

  The tripod – after wrangling its limbs – stood a few feet from the foot of the bed, the camera atop it facing back towards the sheets. One light went on either side, doing a decent job of illuminating the scene, revealing all of the nooks and crannies on the windowsill behind me that needed to be dusted.

  Lastly was making sure there wasn’t anything identifiable in frame. The idea was that even if someone recognized this style of apartment, they wouldn’t know which of the hundreds I was filming from, and there was no way to trace Sarah’s appearance back to either me or Luna.

  And so I y there, naked in my own bed, curves on dispy, with a remote for the camera in my hand – and I was completely at a loss.

  On videos or livestreams I could figure out what to do – even if it wouldn’t necessarily be easy. But photos? Was I just supposed to masturbate and take pictures of it? Pose seductively?

  I decided to go with the former because it was what Sarah would think was more fun.

  I repositioned myself, spreading my legs wide, centering my hips on where the frame was. A deep breath escaped me, taking with it any knowledge that I was doing this for an audience or for money. All that was left was my body, and the camera – a standoff between exhibitor and voyeur.

  It began with a finger tracing its way up my torso. I hadn’t let myself indulge in this body since the first time I’d touched myself, and the anticipation that’d built up only made me more sensitive and eager.

  I snapped my first picture while pinching my nipple, following up with a few more as I tugged and twisted.

  Damn, I don’t know how women aren’t constantly touching these – they’re like stress balls and a ‘free dopamine button’ all in one.

  The remote dropped out of my hand, momentarily forgotten while my hands groped and squeezed. My hips rocked forwards, wanting more, wishing I had someone to operate the camera as well as someone to pleasure me.

  Maybe two people to pleasure me… three?

  As I picked up the clicker again with one hand and began sliding the other down to cup my already-wet folds, I wondered if there was any chance I could get someone to help me with this.

  The only friend I have is Luna… Even if I had another friend, Luna already knows about my shapeshifting, and she even lives with me…

  All at once, I imagined Luna behind the camera, staring intently between the directions she delivered with a cool tone. I dragged a finger up through my pussy, and I snapped another picture.

  ‘Now stick a finger inside – two if they’ll fit,’ I imagined Luna saying, and, like a good girl, I listened, snapping another couple pictures as my digits slid into me.

  I stilled, gaze fixed on the camera’s lens – through the camera’s lens to the people that would eventually see this, see me. What kind of sick pleasures would they get from watching me? Would they touch themselves while watching my depravity, imagine themselves here with me?

  Subconsciously my fingers had started moving, wet heat pressing into them from both sides as my wrist pulled them in and out at a slowly increasing pace. I took another couple of pictures, imagining the lewd expression that was surely on my face – eyes unfocused, mouth open, sweat glistening on my heaving chest.

  ‘Rotate your wrist and let the heel of your palm stroke your clit – yes, exactly like that, babe,’ I heard the imaginary form of Luna saying, dimly registering that I’d soon be feeling shame as my climax grew nearer.

  I held that image as I came, of Luna watching me with a proud expression, my hand betedly remembering it was supposed to take pictures of my blissed out, moaning face.

  As I tried to catch my breath, my fingers slid out of me, and hovered up to enter my mouth. I licked them clean, taking my st few pictures while contempting how I was supposed to feel about tasting Sarah – given that I wasn’t attracted to women.

  Maybe… Sarah is bisexual, even if I’m not? Or I guess in Sarah’s body it’s as if I’m a trans man, so it makes sense I like Sarah’s body, because it’s a male body? But then what about Luna? Why does Sarah keep thinking about Luna?

  I quickly decided to move on, a groan escaping my sore body as I heaved myself off the bed and realised that I’d need to wash my sheets – in addition to putting away the equipment under the bed and sorting through the pictures.

  Who knew masturbating for money was so much work…?

  —

  I sat on the floor, cross-legged in the corner of the room, gncing awkwardly between the dozens of images of Sarah’s euphoria as she imagined my roommate, and Luna herself, sitting on the couch and eyeing me curiously.

  Ugh, I can’t tell if this is worse than the st time – at least this time she didn’t think about Luna touching her, but it was still…

  And Luna is a woman. I know that, Sarah knows that, there is absolutely no room for doubt there. So why the fuck does she keep thinking about Luna? Why isn’t Sarah just straight?

  Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to continue this at all. The shame I was feeling now, the clotted, bitter regret, was at least as strong as the pleasure Sarah had felt, and the only thing that broke the tie between the two feelings was the potential for earning money.

  “Greg, why are you on the floor?” She flipped her own ptop shut, as if she was decring this was a Conversation we were about to have and not a simple question.

  “Oh I do this sometimes, helps me work,” I lied, resisting the urge to gnce down shamefully at my screen.

  “What’re you working on?” she asked.

  I tabbed away instinctually. “Just a little freence work – a… friend of mine asked me to sort through some of her… artwork for a little bit of money. You know how it is, decide which images go together, touch them up with some editing…”

  “A friend of yours? What do they do, can I see?” she leaned forward, thankfully much too far away to peek over my screen.

  I spped my ptop shut anyways. “No, she’s kind of shy about her work,” I stammered, my gaze averting.

  She raised an eyebrow, “How did you meet? I don’t think I’ve seen you leave the apartment for anything other than job interviews and grocery shopping.”

  My eyes darted back to her, “That’s it!” I said, a bit too enthusiastically, “We met at the grocery store.”

  At Luna’s curious expression, I continued. “She was in the… the cheese aisle, and it looked like she really couldn’t decide on what to choose, so I… I went up to her, and I was like, ‘hey, I’m Greg and this english cheddar is kind of funky but really tasty,’ and she was like, ‘Wow, thank you, I’m Sarah and let’s be friends,’ and it just took off from there, you know how it is…”

  “Greg, you’re ctose intolerant and I’ve never seen you talk to a stranger when you weren’t forced to in your life,” she pointed out, amusement and scepticism all over her face.

  My heart pounded and my hands fidgeted with my shorts. My breaths came in faster and faster, and just when Luna looked like she was about to speak up, about to put my dumb lie out of its misery, I shouted, “She’s really pretty and I’m questioning my sexuality!”

  My cheeks burned as silence stretched between us. I wasn’t even embarrassed at admitting I found Sarah pretty – of course she was, I’d designed her myself to be as pretty as possible – it was about lying yet again. Because I wasn’t questioning my sexuality, I was very sure I had no interest in women and that it was Sarah who was bisexual.

  “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard,” Luna said, an unreadable stare on her face, “And if you want to talk about it, I’m here… Or if you just want to gush over pretty women…”

  I shook my head, then nodded. “I’m good, it’s just something about her specifically that… interests me. I’m looking at her photos – she’s a photographer – and they’re very revealing… it feels like I’m getting to know her even if they’re static…”

  Luna nodded slowly, “Alright… Well I’d like to meet her if that was possible, or just see a picture of her too – to see what’s got you so smitten.” A teasing smirk danced across her face.

  I thought of one of the only decent photos I had of her, where she was wearing a dress from Luna’s closet. “It’s not like that,” I insisted, “We hardly know each other, and I don’t want to date her. It’s just… spending time as– spending time with her is special in a way I can’t expin.”

  Luna pursed her lips, transparently holding a comment back. She sighed, “Alright I’ll stop pushing you on this. But if you ever want to share, I could sure use the excitement in my life…”

  “Boss being a tool again?” I guessed, setting down my computer and standing.

  She groaned, “He just can’t stop interrupting me during meetings to expin the same thing I was going to while making twice as many technical mistakes.”

  I walked over to the kitchen and filled a gss with water, brushing past Snuffles on her way towards Luna. “Dang, have you tried looking for another job?” I took a sip of my drink.

  “Yeah, I have,” she sighed, “But I’d have to take a pretty big pay cut if I wanted to work anywhere else, not to mention how it would look on my resume to be working at this pce for less than a year – and between this job and my st one,” she shivered, “I don’t have anyone I can use as a good recommendation, which also sucks…”

  “Well, take care of yourself first. If not being miserable every day requires taking a pay cut…” I shrugged, sitting next to her on the couch and setting my gss on the coffee table. “Not that I know anything, I’m one disaster away from having to move back home.”

  She wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me in with her head on my shoulder while her other hand petted Snuffles in her p, “You’re the best – and I’m sure you'll find something soon.”

  I stiffened, desperately ignoring the urge to shift into Sarah and see what it would be like to press her soft curves into Luna’s soft body. “Uh, yeah – I should get back to work,” I stammered, standing and grabbing my ptop before scurrying off to the bedroom.