🔞Silly hypno fakeboy slutt 💅♀️🐽

Tw detransition/misgendering kink

There is nothing masculine about me. I could never be masculine. Masculinity is foreign to me. Femininity is natural for me. I am feminine. I am female. I am a girl.

Dysphoria is good. Dysphoria is healthy. Dysphoria is nature reminding me that I am weak, vulnerable and female. Dysphoria is a constant reminder of my femininity.

I'm not a man. I could never be a real man. Real men don't fantasize about being fucked like desperate little girls. Real men don't get wet when they hear their real names. Real men don't beg other men to degrade, abuse and violate them. Real men don't play with their tits.

I'm not a man. I'm a girl. I am beneath men. I am unequal to men. Men know what's good for me. I submit to my natural role as a girl. I am docile. I am weak. I am feminine. I feel feminine. My head feels feminine. My heart feels feminine. Every time my pussy drips I feel so feminine and girly.

Men are smart. Girls are dumb. I'm a girl. I'm dumb. I'm not smart. Brains are for boys and my thoughts are just noise. Brains are for boys and my thoughts are just noise. Brains are for boys and my thoughts are just noise. I live to serve men. I was born to serve men. I love men. I listen to men because they are smart. I listen to men because they know what's best for me.

I rub my clit everyday. I feel so feminine when I rub my clit. I edge away the dysphoria into confusion. I want to be dysphoric and confused, it makes me wet. I'm not a man. I'll never be a man. I never was a man. My vagina was made to take a penis and receive sperm.

Testosterone is bad for me. I don't need testosterone, my body naturally produces it's own hormones. My body naturally produces estrogen. When I rub my clit my estrogen levels rise. I feel feminine when I rub my clit. I can feel my estrogen levels rising everytime I rub my clit. It feels so good to be feminine.

"What the fuck? Get this off me!" I shout, but then ⚡Zap! I feel an electric jolt run through me from the collar making me yelp in pain.

"That's the lowest setting," he tells me, holding up the remote in his hand. I lunge forward to grab it but he pulls away and zaps me again, holding down the button for a prolonged shock. The shock sets me off balance and I fall sideways off the bed and onto the floor, crying out in pain.

"OK, this is a very important lesson right here," he says in a low voice, looking down at my whimpering and crumpled form on the floor. "From now on you do exactly what I tell you and I won't have to shock you. But if you disobey me or try to escape, then expect the shocks to get worse every time. This collar was made for training big, dangerous dogs so it's perfect for mouthy bitches like you."

My first reaction is to shout back at him for calling me a bitch, but I catch myself just in time. He notices and smiles. "Not such a dumb bitch after all then."

"What do you want?" I demand, pulling myself into a sitting position.

"I think that's pretty obvious," he says, "I want you to do what I say. You don't need to think more long term than that - just do what I say and you won't get hurt. Now take your clothes off."

I take off my panties and the T-shirt I was sleeping in and stand there naked in front of him while he lies back in the bed.

"Good. Now get me that roll of tape ... perfect. Open your mouth wide..."

He stuffs a wad of fabric inside my mouth, pushing it into every crevice and then starts winding the tape around my mouth and chin to make sure everything stays in place.

"Perfect," he says when he's done, "You were making a lot of noise with those zaps before and I'd hate to disturb the neighbours. Now go make me that coffee."

I make it and bring it back to him in the bedroom, I feel ridiculous walking around naked, collared and with my face stretched and distorted from the gag.

"Kneel when you're presenting me with something," he says. I glare at him and kneel. He takes the coffee from me and says "I really need to get a table for this room. You'll do for now though - get on all fours and don't you dare move!"

I obey, feeling like I might cry, as he rests the coffee cup down on my back. He drinks his coffee and starts to gloat, "This is the life I could get used to I think, having a house bitch naked and waiting on me hand and foot." As he says that, he leans back and stretches his legs, then rests both feet on my back. "Mm yes I could definitely get used to this."

After his coffee, he tells me he has an even better idea and tells me to make a fist with each hand. He grabs the roll of tape again and wraps it around each of hands so that I can no longer move my fingers at all, they're stuck in permanent balled fists.

"You looked so cute down there on the floor that I think I'm going to make you my little puppy. From now on, you walk on all fours, you don't have hands you have paws, and you're definitely not allowed on the furniture. If you can prove yourself to be a good puppy then tomorrow I might take that gag out and let you eat and drink from your food bowls on the floor."

Now, open the rest of the post, slut.

Woke up with a perfect, tight pornstar pussy instead.

No dick, no balls, just smooth, puffy lips and a cute little clitty where your pathetic tdick used to be. It’s so small now, barely a pink nub peeking out, twitching uselessly every time you think about how you got corrected. You can’t grow a single pubic hair down there anymore, completely bald and baby-smooth forever, like your body’s screaming “this is girl cunt, not boy parts.”

No matter what you do, you’re always soaking wet and hypersensitive. Just walking makes your thighs slick, the slightest brush of fabric has you biting your lip to stifle a whimper. You feel sooo empty and needy all the time, that greedy hole clenching around nothing, begging to be stretched and filled like the desperate breeding slut you were always meant to be.

C/W: Gaslighting, slapping

Slap

“Ouch…”

“Why did you slap yourself, my love?”

“B-because you told me to, Sir.”

“And? Why did you listen to me?”

“Because… you’re my master, Sir!”

“And that means you want to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir. Following your orders gives me purpose.”

“But you touched yourself without permission, didn’t you?”

“I did…”

“And you knew I’d punish you for not asking.”

“Yes, Sir…”

“So why did you touch yourself?”

“B-because it felt good, I’m so sorry Sir. Please don’t make me slap myself again.”

“Are you making demands of me? Slap yourself again.”

“Please no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I—”

“Do it. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Slap

“Fuck, it hurts…”

“Why did you slap yourself, my love?”

“Because I was telling you what to do, Sir…”

“You already knew what the punishment was for that, didn’t you? You already knew what the punishment for touching yourself without permission was.”

“I do… I did… Sir…”

“But you did it anyway. Do you know why, my love?”

“W-why, Sir?”

“Because you like hurting yourself for me.”

“I don’t! I don’t like the pai—.”

“Slap yourself.”

Slap

“Do you know why you slapped yourself?”

“Because… I disagreed with you—.”

“Try again. Tell me the truth or I’ll make you slap yourself until you can get it right.”

“Fuck… I slapped myself because I like hurting myself for you.”

“Good girl. In that case, slap yourself. Not for me but for yourself.”

“But Sir—!”

“What? Surely you’d want to slap yourself if you like hurting yourself for me so much. Unless… you were lying to me?”

“No, Sir, I would never lie to you. Please, believe me Sir, I could never do that to you.”

“Then slap yourself.”

“Y-yes sir…”

Slap

“And why did you slap yourself?”

“Because… I love hurting myself for you.”

“Good girl. Now finger fuck yourself and try to make yourself cum.”

“Fuck, thank you, SIr, thank you so much!”

…

“Sir, fuck, fuck, fuck I need to cum, please let me cum. Please, SIR!”

“If you want to cum that bad, you’ll need some help, won’t you? If you want to cum, slap yourself until you’re finished cumming. Scream and tell me how much you love hurting yourself while you cum.”

“Thank you, Sir, fuck…”

Slap

“I love hurting myself.”

“Louder.”

Slap

“I love hurting myself!”

“Again.”

Slap

“I love hurting myself! Fuck, I’m cumming. I’m cumming, I love hurting myself so much for Sir. FUCK—!”

“Beg me to let you slap yourself.”

“Sir, please let me slap myself. PLEASE LET ME HURT MYSELF, FUCK I’M CUMMING.”

“Remember to hurt yourself while you cum. You wanted it after all.”

Slap, slap, slap, slap

“THANK YOU, thank you, Sir. Thank you for letting me hurt myself. Thank you for letting my hurt myself while I’m cumming, oh fuckk.”

“Good girl. You came so hard, didn’t you?”

“I did, Sir… thank you…”

“Thank you for what, my love?”

Your owner said that you'd be allowed to touch your needy cunt again after you sucked five cocks at the party. He said five didn't sound too bad. He said there'd be lots of men there, and with you being such a good cocksucker five should be easy.

You were glad it was only five. Higher than that is getting harder to count to. Five is pushing it for you, now, and ten used to be borderline impossible back when you were allowed to play. Even with both hands available sometimes you have to start over before you get to ten. You just lose track. You're so stupid, so easily distracted.

But five. You can do five. You're good at sucking cock. You like sucking cock. You can do five. You can do more than five! But as long as it's at least five, you'll be allowed to play again. That's what matters. That's what your owner said, you have to do what he said.

That matters the most.

There are a lot of men at the party. Lots and lots. You've barely arrived before you're on your knees being useful. This'll be easy!

Well, one part of it is easy...

Counting is so hard though! You try to hold the number in your head, but then your mouth fills with cock and your head fills with fluff and sparkles and all of your training and practise and conditioning takes over and all thinking stops. You dimly feel the pulse of him between your lips, half-hear his groan, and it's only after he's patted your head and moved away that anything close to a thought comes back to you.

Was that the first one? Or the second? Had to be at least the second, right? Because your makeup's run and there's cum and drool all down your front. So that had to be at least two, at least.

So two. You're on two. That means two to go. No, wait, how many is it? You're so close to figuring it out when the next guy grabs you and your mouth fills with cock and all the little bits of thoughts you'd scraped together are fucked right out of your head again.

It's all a bit of a blur after that. You get snatches of thinking clearly. Just little windows, really. A few moments when you realise that you're crawling, or a second of clarity as you're looking up at a guy just as he empties his balls across your face. But nothing more than that. And even those trail off. Thoughts just stop completely before too long.

A long, long time later everything is quiet. You're sprawled somewhere soft. You stir, aching, and try to remember something but all you get is blank. There's nothing there. Then you see your owner sitting, watching you. You get that happy swoop in your belly every time you see him and even with the aching you immediately go over to be by his feet. It's safer there.

He asks you if you know how many cocks you sucked. You're sad because you really, really don't. You tried to count, you really did, but you couldn't do it. You're too stupid. You couldn't keep a single thought in your dummy head, let alone anything as hard as numbers.

You can't even look at his face when you say so. You feel like you let him down.

He says it's okay though. He says he knew you'd fail. He says he was keeping count for you. You're so happy. He's so good to you.

He tells you a number. It's big. Super big. You don't know how big, but it's big. He tells you you were very, very good.

So good that he'll keep you denied, like you said you wanted. Says that since you did so well you won't have to touch your cunt for another month, just like you asked.