#selenabarks

i think all ftm girls deserve harsh, corrective lesbian rape. to be objectified by another woman, someone who knows femininity much better than we do, cooing and love bombing while assaulting her. her perfect painted fingernails groping at her soft skin and hips, maybe shoving massive dildos in her cunt and ass, plush lips making out with each other. sticky lip gloss being tasted, high pitched moans and soft whispers. a woman taking this dumb girl into her arms and showing her how good a girl she needs to be. how she was bred for wlw relationships and hyper-femme sexual exchanges.

puppy boy girl dreaming of being forcefully impregnated - breast tissue redeveloping from her mistake of testosterone for 5 years, hips filling back out to prepare for holding a baby, and a fully functional womb doing what it was meant to do.

mommy putting me in the bra we got me (in what feels like a size too small) and forcing me to look at myself in the mirror while she gropes me from behind - taunting about how i cant hide how big they look, spilling out the top, how inherently female my breasts are and how could i have possibly thought i could get away with trying to be a boy with tits and curves like these.

mommy calling my breasts udders for the first time and catching me off guard. her being upset its taking me so long to finally take off my binder so she can grope me and visibly plan my outfit for a date later this week. how she wants to parade my tits in a tight tank top around people i know personally, just so she can look at them while we get drunk. taking the time to point out each feature that makes me look feminine and girly, how soft i really am. i think mommy might want to take away my boy privileges - she’s becoming more and more obsessed with loving her princess, her little darling girl, her dumb fakeboy who is just so good at pretending that it nearly convinced her. until now.

mommy and i discussing how she would be incredibly turned on by my being misgendered at work, how she would love to grope me while i put on my uniform, how it’s starting to fit very differently as my body rearranges to its natural state, how my distress would only make her ache for her little girl to dress properly. girly. to stop hurting my gorgeously feminine breasts and hips by cramming them into harmful binders and shapewear. watching me scrub eyeliner off to prepare for a work day in full boymode while im in the bath, and wanting to encourage me to wear eyeliner more often- maybe even at work. how she is going to fill out specific job applications on my behalf so i dont have to stand on my feet all the time anymore,,, wanting a more, female-oriented job, in a way. less masculine, less physically demanding. she wants me to dress better, in tighter clothes- “youre the one that said it doesnt matter what pronouns, right?” she dreams about getting her princess pregnant. wonder if my new career path applies ? guided slowly but surely into fully detransitioning for her pleasure.

dreaming that i wake up tomorrow with MUCH larger breasts, incredibly tender and plush, straining my sports bra. i want them to ache and pulse until theyre groped,, milked like cow teats,, massaged for hours just for relief. any crying only makes them stretch more until im nothing but a giant-titted fakeboy sobbing on the floor.