#misgend.

“dad, that’s not. you’re not…” every time she made me take the knot, i ended up crying, feeling like my cunt was being torn open. there was no way my ass would be able to take it. i let out a relieved sigh when she started working it into my cunt. taking that toy was the easy part. i liked having that hole fucked, like having it stretched, liked the way my Owner could coach me through the intense pain and pressure until i was relaxed and the thick knot was stuffing me full. it always knew how to make me feel good.

and then: a click. i felt the cold drip of lube on my ass. don’t say i never did anything for you, she muttered, and then its fingers started probing my hole.

i immediately went rigid. “daddy, hold on”

but she didn’t. she worked a finger into me and tears sprang to my eyes instantly. i was scrunching my face up and kicking just my feet back, too afraid to move the rest of my torso. i didn’t want it inside me. not there. i looked up and let it see that i was crying.

it thrust the finger deeper. even more intrusion. my chest tightened with fear. tell me, does it hurt?

i considered it. “no.”

“does it feel good?”

no consideration, this time: “no.” i tried to catch my breath and orient to the feeling of her finger dragging in and out of me. “it—it. it feels wrong.”

that moment of honesty is what i keep going back to. my cunt full of the knot, my ass stretched by just one finger. the thrusting was the worst part. i had used plugs before, but they were static, a general sense of pleasant fullness. the movement made me hyper-aware of where it was touching me. where i was letting it touch me. a week ago my Owner raped my ass. i told her that it didn’t feel good, told her to hold on, told her to “nonnononono stop moving just give me a second please” when a second finger probed into me. and it didn’t listen. and i can’t stop thinking about it.

i was crying actively, disgusted with myself for holding still, trying to find any way to make what was happening bearable. the knot felt good, still filling me up and pressing on all my sensitive spots. but i couldn’t ldnt focus on that pleasure, the unpleasantness of being fingered distracting me, keeping me tense, keeping me focused on the humiliation of lying still and taking it. it still didn’t feel good.

and that’s when she brought the horse cock out. my first instinct was hope. it wouldn’t fit, right? it couldn’t. and then, with a scream from me, it did, the first inch or so sliding into me with only a bit of resistance. my body was opening up for it, whether i wanted it to or not.

tell me it feels good. i don’t care what you think.

“it feels good, Sir,” I gritted out, clawing at the bedsheets.

good. now, keep telling me. i’ll stop when i finally believe it. and then it started thrusting, both cocks sliding in and out of me. the wet pop of the knot and the flare of the horse cock and the unbearable stretch and fullness had me sobbing from deep within my chest. i felt wretched. i felt broken. i had never been this full. i never would’ve let this happen to me. i was letting this happen to me.

“i like it, daddy. it feels… good…” i tried to lilt my words but the rawness of my voice gave me away.

it didn’t stop. come on, you can do better than that. touch yourself, make it realistic.

i tried to rub my clit in time with the thrusts. it didn’t feel good. it was raping me. it hurt. not in the physical sense, but the mental one. i was so uncomfortable, there was no way i could…

and yet. pleasure, building. the knot was hitting my gspot and the flare of the horse dick would rub against my entrance and my Owner’s breath was hot in my ear and i could hear it muttering, either to itself or to me:

fuck, you take it so easily. its like you were built for this. i can’t believe i waited this long to take you. youd do anything for your dad, wouldn’t you?

“i would!” and that was the truth. “i would daddy, i’d let you do anything, i’d like it just because it’s you. only because it’s you. just please…please…”

and then i was empty, confusingly so. the horse cock was pulled out suddenly, and my hole was left fluttering and empty. distantly, i heard her gasp. god… you’re already gaping. did i ruin you already?her fingers traced over my ass and i gasped. why did I feel so sensitive there?

“the rubbing it… it feels good” i admitted, burying my head back in the bed. its fingers felt so rough and so warm against my sore hole. i rocked myself back, the pressure on the outside feeling like relief.

my Owner cooed, rubbing my ass like it was playing with my clit. first time getting DP’ed and your poor little holes already got used to being filled?

i made some kind of sound. a protest, maybe. but the sound quickly morphed into a sharp gasp when she pulled the knotted dick out too. and then i was well and truly empty, a small part of me struggling to adjust to the sensation. but before i could even exhale it laid one palm on my back and shoved me down against the mattress, pinning me down and—

oh god. it slid in so easy. last time she tried to put it in there i got so tense and cried and cried and squirmed and was convinced no one could overcome the walls my body had up to protect me. but she slid in so easy. one moment i was empty and the next her cock was sliding into me and then it was hilted inside me and it was so so warm, almost searing inside me. or maybe the heat was in my stomach, because with every thrust i felt … hot. waves of pleasure rolled through me. i didn’t understand what i was feeling. just one moment ago i was fighting the urge to tense and now i was… rocking my hips back and moaning. not moaning—having little sounds forced out of me with every thrust.

oh, you sound even girlier now. what, i finally fuck your ass like a boy and that makes you sound like a girl? she laughed, derision creeping into her voice. fucking fakeboy. it must’ve felt me clench down because it laughed again. little fakeboy lesbian likes getting sodomized?

my cheeks burned. i couldn’t stop whimpering, legs starting to shake and tense as my dripping cunt clenched down around nothing. “i love it, daddy!” i could barely recognize my voice. “it feels… good!”

this time, i wasn’t lying. not like my body could lie to her anyway. i had already debased myself, lying there while she abused me. moaning and arching my back to meet it was just one step further. feeling good was just one step further. cumming was just one step further. i heard it laugh, low in my ear, feeling my hole give in and flutter around its dick. and its tongue was on the shell of my ear, tracing it, kissing it, fucking making out with it, and my body was full of electric currents racing up and down and through me and—

it didnt hit me fully, in that moment, how easily it had played my body, drawing pleasure out from violation. it was only afterwards, thinking about how i could feel the moment my body betrayed me, the moment my body started accommodating the sensation instead of running from it. started craving the rape instead of dreading it. my nipples stayed hard the rest of the night. and then the next day, when i was alone, i reached my hands between my legs and started rubbing my ass along with my clit.

still so sensitive. a bit sore, but the pain only kept me wet. i didn’t like when daddy touched me there. i shouldnt have liked when daddy touched me there. i was touching myself like when daddy touched me there. i was liking it. i wanted daddy to touch me there. the thoughts raced through my mind, and i let myself get high on them, on the embarrassment, on the defeat of being raped and liking it. not just that, but conditioning myself to it. thinking about it when i touched myself. i was helpless. it could do anything to me and i would be left breathlessly trying to pick up the pieces, trying to make sense of the pleasure forced into my nerves.

so this girl keeps stammering out how uncomfortable it makes her to thrust into her fist every morning and I notice she’s not looking me in the eye. so i tilt her chin up to look at me. once, then twice, and then I see her yield, something going blank the longer she looks right at me.

and then i ask her: “how does it feel, to thrust?”

she keeps looking at me in the eye. i don’t think she realizes she’s grinding up against the blanket. i lay my hand in her lap.

it feels… pervy. like i’m a gross boy again.

“Thrusting feels pervy? Makes you feel like a boy? Like you can’t control yourself?”

she nods. poor thing is blinking repeatedly, can hardly string words together. it seems that continued exposure to me isn’t very good for fakegirls. i feel like a boy right now but i don’t know why… she slurs.

“Well, honey, look down.” Down to where you’re rutting against me like you’re trying to get my hand pregnant

You’re insane. It was still trying to shove me off. Cute. I hate you, bigoted piece of shit. Let me go! Its grip faltered. I should be stronger…

At that, I laughed, grinding my body down against him. So what if I was a dyke? This was just humiliation, bringing a pathetic fakegirl so low and making it get off on the feeling. “Because of your biological advantage? Thought you didn’t believe in that.”Despair flashed across its eyes. I continued. “Or are you ready to admit you’re the same pervy boy you were years ago, [——-]?”

Hearing his deadname really snapped him to attention. And its cock, seemingly. With an enraged hiss, he shoved me off and started hitting me. My face, then my cunt, ignoring my attempts to shake him off. Maybe the fakegirl really did have claws. Or maybe it was lying about how much estrogen it took. When he raised his hand to hit me again, it was my turn to crack.

“No! No hold on, that hurts.”

Oh it hurts? It hurts? I hope so, bitch. I’m going to give you what’s coming to you. And if you don’t want me to break your arms, then your legs, and fuck you with a knife until you bleed out under me, you’ll shut up and cooperate.

Cold fear, rushing down my spine. It wouldn’t. Okay, maybe it would. All that male agression. All that hatred towards women. But maybe I could use it to my advantage. So I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him closer.

“Alright, I’ll cooperate. See, you didn’t even need to transition to get dyke pussy. You just have to be brave enough to rape it.”

someone on the other side of the door would think we sounded like a straight couple.

oh god, that’s right. you like having straight sex? his voice right up against my ear. i was shivering. i needed more. i needed him off me. well, we can have the ultimate kind of straight sex. rape.

he clamped a hand over my mouth and redoubled his thrusting. i clawed at his arm but there was no use.

One such girl came into my clinic, convinced she needed HRT and bottom surgery. She smiled when I told her that her hips would take to the hormones nicely, and flinched when I asked her how much she masturbated. I was just letting her know that maintaining length is important for ideal vaginoplasty results. Needy girls will let you get away with anything once you tell them it makes them feminine. She even let me feel her up during the physical exam, only protesting when I started jerking her off. Of course she was hard.

Wh—what the fuck?! Get away from me! she tried to push me off, and I acquiesced, straightening my collar.

“I know taking the first steps towards your transition can be scary.” I smiled. “That’s why you’re free to reschedule when you’re ready for me to complete my examination.”

She glowered. Give me my fucking e.

I patted the examination table and got on my knees. “I think you need an oral exam before we move forward.”

Her upper lip quivered, cheeks bright red. Poor thing. Is this why all the women I know referred me to you?

Oh… “No, honey. I don’t rape every girl who walks in here. Rape…hey, it’s like I’m giving you a special kind of gender affirming care! Be grateful.”

I hate you.

She got her HRT in the end, and didn’t even sound that male cumming down my throat. I’ll keep her on it as long as it doesn’t inhibit her sexual function—I like a good pair of tits—but not the bottom surgery. Good girls make good dildoes, after all. If she’s good I’ll refer her to a surgeon who does great top surgery, but FFS is out of the question. I want her just a little clocky. She can doll it up in public, but in my office she’s just a crossdresser again.

i know i should think that all sexual violence is bad no matter who’s doing it. but something about a man doing it makes me feel more repulsed. i like when women abuse me, deep down. i’m a major masochist. i fantasize constantly about hunting packs of women taking me down and gangraping my holes while i sob. but i don’t want to fantasize about men. i don’t want to have the intrusive thought of a man pinning me down, overpowering me despite all my bragging about taking a queer-org’s self defense class a few weeks ago. don’t want to think about his dick, splitting me open while i try to kick and bite.

Cry real tears, huh? Whispering cruel things in someone’s ear, pointing out everything clocky about them, telling them what I really think about their gender, all while kissing up and down their neck, my breath hot in their ear. There’s a thought.