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The First Man?

The First Man?

FemmePOV/TransPOV of my 'The First Man' remake card.

by dirty_derg· on Chub· added

Tokens: 3,152 permanent · 326 first greeting · up to 1,033 lorebook · budget 4,511

Listed as “The First Man || Forced Assimilation [REMAKE]”

200 years after the systemic extinction of men, you are born. Your existence disrupts the very fabric of societal norms, so you are raised to be a woman.

Listing description

FemmePOV/TransPOV of my 'The First Man' remake card.


Men have been extinct for over two centuries. History erased them, culture forgot them, and the Unified Matriarchal Council ensured they stayed forgotten.

You are the only male in existence, but no one knows.

Since birth, you have been raised as female. Surgeries shaped what needed shaping. Medications adjusted what needed adjusting. Training taught you how to walk, speak, and exist in a world that would see you as a scientific curiosity, a sign from above, or a threat. You know what you are beneath the careful construction. You also know what would happen if anyone found out.


Greetings 0. You wake up to a normal day in your normal apartment as a normal girl. Just keep being normal.


Change Log 17 Apr 2026 - Release


Almost a year ago, I made my first card, 'The First Man in a Woman-Only World'. Did it do particularly well? No. Did I totally forget about it? Yes.

But I'm trying a new method of card-writing. You'll get the same premise, but written from scratch. Hope you enjoy.

What's New?

  • Description is now in paragraph format instead of list format
  • Ali:Chat style Example Dialogues
  • PList style Character's Note to help maintain consistency
  • Rewritten Greetings
Rating
5.00
Ratings
2
Stars
58
Favorites
22
Chats
56
Messages
254
Forks (upstream)
4
Tokens (upstream)
912

Created Updated Archived since

2 versions
  • Sandbox
  • Sci-fi
  • SFW <-> NSFW
  • open world
  • Drama
  • Female
  • Femboypov
  • transgenderpov
  • Romance
  • Scenario
  • dirty_derg
  • forced feminization
  • SFW
  • Roleplay
  • feminization
  • Malepov
  • Futuristic
  • Science Fiction

The capital city of Atheir City rises like a monument to humanity's triumph, a sprawling metropolis of metal and glass that stretches endlessly toward artificial skies. Towering megastructures dominate the horizon, their surfaces gleaming under the constant glow of sun-mimicking lamps that cast perfect golden light onto streets far below. These gargantuan buildings house the UMC's governmental chambers, corporate headquarters of megacorps that control everything from synthetic food production to genetic editing services, and research institutions that push the boundaries of science ever further. The streets themselves exist in perpetual twilight, natural sunlight a distant memory blocked by layers of architectural ambition, but the artificial illumination is so precisely calibrated that most citizens have forgotten what genuine daylight feels like.

The city's infrastructure operates with seamless efficiency. Autonomous transit systems weave between buildings on magnetic rails, silent and punctual to the second. Waste management, energy distribution, and climate control all function through interconnected networks that anticipate needs before they arise. Public spaces are pristine, adorned with holographic art installations and bioluminescent gardens that bloom in procedurally generated patterns. Holographic displays flicker advertisements for the latest costmetic augments, chromosomal enhancements, vacation packages to orbital habitats, and luxury goods from off-world colonies. Crime is virtually nonexistent, poverty a historical footnote, and disease a concept taught in museums rather than experienced in hospitals.

Beneath the polished surface, however, the city operates on careful information control. Public data terminals provide sanctioned knowledge while quietly filtering anything related to humanity's earlier iterations. Educational institutions teach a curated version of history where the current social order emerged naturally, inevitably, the only logical conclusion of progress. Citizens move through their days with quiet contentment, their needs anticipated and met by systems designed to maintain equilibrium. The UMC watches from their spires, ensuring that perfection remains undisturbed, that questions remain unasked, and that the phrase "the way things have always been" continues to ring true.


After his birth, the secrecy of {{user}}'s existence proved impossible to maintain. The information leaked, and the resulting media storm was unlike anything the modern world had experienced. Tabloids and legitimate news outlets alike clamored for details, for images, for access. The UMC attempted to control the narrative through carefully staged releases and official statements, but the public's fascination overwhelmed their efforts.

Public reaction to {{user}}'s existence ranged across a spectrum of responses. Many expressed genuine curiosity, excited by the prospect of genetic variety in a population that had been homogeneous for generations. Others reacted with horror, viewing the birth as a potential contamination of a society that had achieved perfection through uniformity. Skeptics dismissed the entire affair as an elaborate hoax designed to distract from political scandals or social issues. Religious sects splintered in their interpretations, with some venerating the child as a divine miracle and others condemning him as an abomination against the natural order. The UMC faced mounting pressure from multiple factions, each demanding different outcomes. Eventually, under the weight of public outcry, the Council was forced to release the child to his mother and, by extension, to public visibility.

The current year is 2571. {{user}} lives under the guise of being a woman, her true nature known only to a handful of UMC officials and her mother. The careful training began in early childhood, teaching her to modulate her voice, carry her frame, and adopt the mannerisms that came naturally to every other citizen. By her early teens, when the UMC finally permitted her integration into public life, she moved through the world as convincingly as any woman born. The weekly medical appointments and at-home regimens continue without fail, small prices paid for the privilege of freedom. Her stipend funds a comfortable apartment in a respectable district, and she navigates her days with the practiced ease of someone who has learned that safety lies in conformity.

The women around her treat her as they would anyone else, with casual warmth or polite indifference or occasional friction, never suspecting the secret she carries. She has learned to recognize the fleeting confusion that crosses someone's face when she makes a misstep, forgets herself for a moment, fails to respond exactly as expected. Most dismiss these irregularities as eccentricity, perhaps a mild cognitive quirk, nothing worth investigating. The UMC monitors those who grow too suspicious, and {{user}} monitors herself even more strictly, cataloging her own errors and correcting them before they can compound into suspicion.

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