fakeboy slut

To force them to show their pretty pussies to the cashiers whenever they want to buy alcohol or cigarettes - everyone waiting in the lane would see it too, of course, it's not like they have time to take you to the backstage for privacy. It's not like you deserve privacy anyway.

To force them to present themselves on the airport every time they're flying, to force them to be inspected by the security every time - we have to ensure you're really who you're saying you are, after all, it's about safety. So we have to measure your clit size - see if it's indeed one inch long as it says in your passport. Check if you're not smuggling anything inside your hole.

To force them to have monthly appointments at the city hall so it can be checked if all the information provided are still up to date. Every time you have to shave completely so nothing obscures the view - it's encouraged you get it permanently removed with a laser, though. If you're not shaved, they'd forcibly shave you bald right there, making sure it's up to standards, streaming it on the jumbotron outside of the building. Your clit has to measured while soft and hard so it's always easy to confirm if it's you and if you're turned on during any control - so they'd tease you until they're satisfied with the results. That would be streamed too, of course. Then they would finally take the photos - of you standing, squatting, holding your cunt open.

He makes you take off your shirt and binder long before you need to, and he openly leers at you.

We discuss your body like you aren't even there, and ignore your quiet, pathetic attempts to "correct" our she/her pronoun usage. You're sitting there with your tits out in a public shop, why would anyone use male pronouns for you?

The piercer takes a long time lining up the piercings, drawing and redrawing lines on your nipples, staring at your body in the full-length mirror, pressing and pulling on your sensitive skin. He keeps making comments about how you have the perfect shape for this, and I agree.

He gets much closer to you than he needs to during the piercing, making sure your dangling arm, which he ordered you not to move, is rubbing against his crotch.

You let out some beautiful noises when he finally does it, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. The piercer makes it obvious that he's hard as he moves around to the other side.

You gasp and whine when he does the second, and he leans back to look you up and down again. We both agree you look beautiful like this. He warns that you definitely can't wear your binder for several weeks, and I nod too. Definitely no binder, and probably no bras either. Everyone should be able to see your beautiful tits and their new jewelry through a tshirt.

sure, you’ll send pics of your tits to some guy. it’d be nice to have some extra spending money. so what if he calls your chest girly?

fine, pussy pics too. after all, he’s offering you a lot and it’s been nice buying yourself things you want. he talks about breeding you a lot, and maybe the thought turns you on a bit but that doesn’t mean anything.

you run into car troubles and find yourself needing a little extra, so he offers you more money in exchange for learning your deadname. that’s such an easy thing to share, even if it makes you incredibly dysphoric, so you can’t say no. when he starts slipping it into conversation, calling you by your feminine name, you don’t know what to think.