Off-Topic Troon sightings in the wild

[Mad_Dog]

In the waiting room of my local medical center emerges an imposing figure from the doctor's office, whose feet seemed as long as my shins, and calves more robust than my own thighs. Yet, the body wasn’t plump nor fat; it was just remarkably tall and powerful. The face was delicate in contrast to the rest of the physique, and the hair impeccably styled. The attire was tasteful, like most in this town. My curiosity piqued, conflicting emotions of confusion and excitement swirled within me. Was this a close-encounter with a real-life troon? I need to know more.

Although I yearned for another glimpse of this enigmatic person leaving the building, my window's view betrayed me. I toyed with the idea of seeking the doctor's confirmation about the biological identity, but I had my own matters to attend to.

Fast forward a few minutes, I'm now at the pharmacy. While waiting for my prescription, an inexplicable instinct made me glance downwards. To my astonishment, the very feet I had observed earlier came into view! Was fate playing games with me? The towering figure was right behind me! I keep it cool and set all my troon-clocking senses to their highest sensitivity. Luckily a pharmacist came to assit. Eagerly, I waited to hear her voice, anticipating a giveaway. But when I heard the voice replying to the assisting pharmacist, it was a flawless, feminine tone. Can such a great big hulking man produce a crystal-clear unclockable female-voice? I listen intently with my studio-grade golden-ears, each frequency, each nuance instantly compared to years of observing troons online and try as I may, there's no match, no inconsistency. I'm baffled.

In that moment, it hit me: this towering figure was a woman, as genuine as any other. I felt a twinge of shame. The virtual world had tainted my perception. Here I was, having mistaken an innocent woman for something else. Let this be my confession and a testament to the dangers of spending too much time on this website. Allow me to quietly reflect and repent through the spugna.

 

[Screamer_2]

They're becoming more common.

I was waiting for an appointment and saw one. Instantly could tell from the back. They were over 6ft, big and overweight. Had a hunch. The voice was exactly as you'd imagine. For whatever reasons they brought up to the receptionist they had a partner. The hair was long, fuzzy, dyed but not recent as there were long grey roots. They had no make up on and some stubble. Dressed in a hideous sun dress with multi-colored tights and giant leather boots. There appeared to be boobs, no idea if just fat, from hormones a bra or what. One thing that stood out was the size of the arms. Not muscle, but big arms and hand as they were filling in some forms.

Then recently I ventured into some hipster parts. Everyone under 30 looks awful. There was a bald trans man. Who also randomly was wearing a woman's wig. Then there was also a few guys who wear wearing skirts. No idea if trans, non-binary or what the fuck was going on. It was so strange.

 

[Haliaeetus Vocifer]

I encountered a pooner working at my local pet supplies store the other day. There’s usually an array of gender blobs working there, so it wasn’t necessarily surprising. She was my cashier unfortunately, and she was wearing a shirt that said something about “gender roles”.
The thing that stuck out to me though, and I’m now realizing how common this is among troons in general, is how yellow her teeth were. Buttery yellow teeth. Made me shudder a little bit.

 

[Miriam Margoyles]

The thing that stuck out to me though, and I’m now realizing how common this is among troons in general, is how yellow her teeth were. Buttery yellow teeth. Made me shudder a little bit.

I know a non-binary (fat girl) who is in her early twenties and has to wear dentures. Poor dental hygiene among the troon platoon is definitely a thing.

 

[A serious hat]

Left the house again today. Saw three trannies. One walking down the road, in a skirt, striped socks and a tan hoodie. Shaved head, clearly a guy. Couldn’t get a pic because I was driving. Another at the mall, I did get a pic of that one. And finally, a young boy (6th grade) in a skirt. I got a pic of him too but idk if I should post it. Let me know what y’all think. Here’s the one at the mall at least.

 

[indomitable snowman]

Saw a MtF who over 6 feet tall and built like a rectangle with no curves at all (except for that Adams apple lol) . Was wearing boots with 1-2" heels so it made him even taller. Briefly made eye contact and I bet he knew that I knew he did not pass and he quickly went to the checkout and left. Reminded me of that swimmer lea thomas.
At work there is someone who is I guess "gender non-confirming". It is dude with a beard and occasionally I've seen wearing makeup. Carries a huge Channel bag/purse and gives me Sam Brinton vibes.
I think I've seen a couple FTMs, but it could just be butch lesbians.

 

[Friend of Dorothy Parker]

Left the house again today. Saw three trannies. One walking down the road, in a skirt, striped socks and a tan hoodie. Shaved head, clearly a guy. Couldn’t get a pic because I was driving. Another at the mall, I did get a pic of that one. And finally, a young boy (6th grade) in a skirt. I got a pic of him too but idk if I should post it. Let me know what y’all think. Here’s the one at the mall at least.

(We don’t need to see a picture of a kid.)

 

[Activelo]

And finally, a young boy (6th grade) in a skirt. I got a pic of him too but idk if I should post it. Let me know what y’all think. Here’s the one at the mall at least.

Yeah, don't. There's a difference between an adult being a tranny and a kid who almost certainly doesn't know any better.

 

[Deer Warts]

At the pass-through, waiting for my order. The countertop is exceptionally high, and the person behind it is visible only from the neck up.

POONER! screams my brain, instantly. POONER!

Stop it, Deer Warts, I tell myself. You're spending too much time on the Farms. Seeing trannies everywhere.

I regroup. Observe. The person is short. Extremely so. Possibly not even five feet tall. Chubby. Round face. Young. Crew cut under a tight-fitting baseball cap, fading streaks of blue and green visible in the hair around the edges. Short, fat forearms -- so short! -- and tiny hands.

There is no name tag. There is an apron. She's chubby, but under the apron the chest is flat. Teats: yeeted. Pube beard, with a pube-y patch of hair growing not on the chin, but under it. One of the little T. rex forearms is covered with tattoos. (No tattoos on the other one, but no visible scarring, either.)

It speaks, to a coworker. I don't need to tell you what the voice sounds like. Everything about pooners is pitiable and vile, but I find the frog voice viscerally repulsive and it's all I can do not to flinch.

It so happens I have a question about my order. A legitimate one. And it so happens that the co-worker, still in my field of vision, is female. I stare directly at the co-worker, sedulously avoiding eye contact with the pooner, and say, "Excuse me, miss?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tiny potato head whip around. Perhaps she thought my inquiry was directed at her, and planned to "correct" me. But I don't think so. Her response to the "Miss" was automatic. A reflex, a reaction she couldn't control.

No matter how much people may humor you, little girl, or how many lies you may tell yourself, when I called your true name, you responded. You couldn't help but give yourself away. I clocked you in under a second, pooner, and YWNBAM. Never.

 

[No Thank You v 2.0]

This isn’t a troon sighting per se, as I was just “IT’S MA’AM”ed on the phone.

I had to call the customer help line for an online records portal thing I need to access, and I’m having trouble finding what I need. The rep picks up and says “Hi, thank you for calling XYZ, I’m Aaron, how can I help you today?” Well, I thought he said “Aaron,” lovely Biblical name that it is.

He was being such a fucking prick the whole time, sighing audibly like as if I was somehow burdening him with my customer service needs, by calling the customer service helpline, for help I needed as a customer. He kept offering suggestions that amount to “well have you tried turning it off and on?” At one point, I had so say, “Sir, I’m not stupid, I know how to navigate the menu provided, and I already looked through all of that, I’m asking you if the solution might be A or B, if C is what we‘re looking at.”

Then, the obvious man I’m speaking to says, “First, it’s not ‘sir,’ you need to call me ma’am, and no, ma’am, I’m not suggesting you’re stupid.” This motherfucker (and it wouldn’t be the first time) think’s he’s ERIN, which is a fine name for a lady, but goddamn, if you want me to think the obvious man voice I’m hearing is female, go with something unmistakable like Nancy or Suzanne or whatever the fuck. I wanted to throw it back in his face and tell him that despite what he was seeing in my profile and hearing through my voice, he had no right to call me “ma’am”, but women have lost access to important services for correctly gendering men before, so I wasn’t going to fuck with it. I just said literally no more words, responding with nothing but “hmmm” to every comment.

The thing that really pissed me off though was that he refused to end the call and let me go to the survey afterwards. I got bored and eventually hung up, but I know this man was trying to prevent me from giving him shit ratings. TBH I was going to give him a shit rating on account of his attitude before I even knew he was a troon, his attitude was just that shitty (I had thought about hanging up and calling back but I didn’t want to sit on hold again).

I think he knew from my silence that if I couldn’t call him “sir” I wasn’t going to acknowledge him at all anymore. Refusing to engage is how I deal with dumb shit, which is why my username is in reference to the three most beautiful words a woman can speak, which were boldly spoken by Olympic weightlifting bronze medalist Sarah Robles (after they all sat silently, refusing to engage with this nonsense).

 

[Crusty Old Sock]

Left the house again today. Saw three trannies. One walking down the road, in a skirt, striped socks and a tan hoodie. Shaved head, clearly a guy. Couldn’t get a pic because I was driving. Another at the mall, I did get a pic of that one. And finally, a young boy (6th grade) in a skirt. I got a pic of him too but idk if I should post it. Let me know what y’all think. Here’s the one at the mall at least.

It's weird to take pictures of kids

 

[PoonerQuota]

Visiting family in Atlanta, picking up rental at the airport, my SIL is helped at the rental booth by a sort of regal old-school tranny who really just looked like a tall older black woman at first glance. Our reservation was screwed up, it ended up being about an hour and a half hour wait before we got the key. Near the end, when things were resolving, SIL says something along the likes of "Thank you, Miss Firstname", which is sort of just what my sister does when she's talking at length to a woman she doesn't know, but something in this really set the tranny off because it snapped back; "And thank YOU, MISTER SIL's Firstname!!".

I had to explain to her that nothing you say to these people will be interpreted as friendly. She thought she was being friendly, and in her nearly 50 years had never had a reaction like this. To boot, SIL is a therapist and talks to troons fairly regularly.

Anyway, we make the long foot journey to wherever the rental car actually is, only to find that the troon had never entered our info, or had deleted it at some point. The car was still under the last person's name. Another 45 min to redo everything.

I won't doublepost about the next thing bc it's short and sweet. Every fast food restaurant in my town has a pooner(or two). It took me some months to collect this research bc I'm not a total trash can. The last one, the Burger King pooner, was actually a little scary. The type who doesn't talk and throws your card back at you while glaring. I think it was bc I looked into her eyes. Latina, well-developed facial hair, chipped black nail polish.

 

[expectant asshole]

OK I’m probably being retarded, but why was the troon at the car rental upset? It is one of those “how dare you not read my mind and call me my super special name”?
It’s a nightmare where I live. There are lots of gender nonconforming people- which is totally fine with me- and a lot of troons so it’s like Russian roulette as you don’t know if people are going to go off since you called them the wrong honorific or pronoun.

 

[Hassou Tobi]

Saw one on an electric scooter while walking home. Xhe was weird because the hair, makeup, dress, and even body size was regular girl but the face was quite masculine. HSTS?

 

[Cnut]

There is a double standard in KF representation when it comes to sixth grade trannies vs retarded half-dead potato babies.

 

[Hate Campaign]

Spotted 6'4 hulking Chris-chan bodded unwashed troon at my local yee haw Walmart around 8 a.m. on a Thursday. Chin length hair, about 4 inches of dark greasy roots contrasted with brassy bleach job on mid-shaft to ends. Its hair was in pigtails with a shit load of those kawaii decora tokyo style barrettes stapled atop of oily face framing side bangs.
Goodwill solid red women's cut t-shirt that had been DIY cropped, 4x too small; looked about to burst across his broad shoulders, gut ricocheting out. Elastic high-waisted khaki pants that you would find in my 80 year old grandma's closet, also obviously from Goodwill- on his 6'4 frame they looked like petal pushers, amplifying the Grandma aesthetic. Mini pink ita backpack purse with various anime girl buttons in the plastic window display panel, looked miniature against his back. Bracelets all up and down his man forearms, crappy cherry fruit earrings.

The best part was that he had finished his look with a pair of filthy men's size 13 beaten up Asics (definitely pre-troon era) and men's white tube socks.

Ran into him again at the self checkout and he was there with two danger hair roommates, who I overheard refer to him as "Kay". Got out of there asap to beat "Kay" out to the parking lot and sped off.

ex: ita backpack


ex: decora tokyo style


TELL ME THIS ISN'T A FETISH

 

[A serious hat]

It's weird to take pictures of kids

You’re right. I deleted it.

 

[PoonerQuota]

OK I’m probably being retarded, but why was the troon at the car rental upset? It is one of those “how dare you not read my mind and call me my super special name”?
It’s a nightmare where I live. There are lots of gender nonconforming people- which is totally fine with me- and a lot of troons so it’s like Russian roulette as you don’t know if people are going to go off since you called them the wrong honorific or pronoun.

We'll never know, lol! I assume it was the result of an hour and a half of having to deal with a petite and pretty blonde woman. There might've been a slight racial element to it, the Atlanta airport is a pretty rough place and the car rental area is like a small hell.

 

[AfghanBlue]

So.
There are a small handful of troons here, least ways ones that venture outside in my specific neck of the woods, anyway. More on that later.

The Mtfs tend to be wretched creatures with unbrushed hair and badly applied nail varnish that work at checkouts in supermarkets. One is American or maybe Canadian . I don't know why you'd come all the way from the Americas to work at Home Bargains in a decrepid north eastern UK town, but one did. At least he gets to sit down, the Co Op troon has to mog every male and female customer alike with his full standing 6'4 plus frame.
Both of these guys are very quiet and pleasant (as well as being utter degenerate sex perverts in their personal time, I'm sure) so it makes me sad for them that they have such public facing jobs. A literal endless stream of stranger interactions and misgendering. Nothing suggests to the normie that these are anything other than men, even the nails could be explained away as goths. It takes the eye of the kiwi to see the subtler cues. They are lucky that sir/Ma'am isn't much of a thing here. Mate can at least be passed of as a quasi gender neutral expression, maybe, and they might get an occasional pet or darling from the women (but definitely not the men). Home bargains troon has the double bad luck of a novelty accent, to draw more questions and interest. He has noticeably disguised it recently though.

There is a sandwich shop with a weird textured weird proportioned, hairless limbed possible Aiden working behind the counter with a bad attitude. I am unsure if this is indeed a poonsicle, or just a certain breed of gay man. They are of the similar phenotype of another one I had suspicions of, who comes into a rugby club playing on the gay men's team.
Small but possibly just catty gay man that has developed a snotty personality in light of being fat and short in the hyper fecund no fats no fems brusque world of gay sex.

All poonerish suspicions on that particular one, were utterly blown out of the water entirely by the appearance of an absolutely clear as day pooner on that same gay man's team.
5 foot 1. Little red face, squeaky, not changed in any way voice, blue hair and moustache. Immistakabky female. Fat. Odd how testosterone can grow a tashe but do literally not a thing else.
She is however, extremely polite and pleasant.
I doubt she is much help on the pitch, as she is neither strong enough for a scrum, not slim enough to be a fast fly half. But it's more of a social/ fitness thing with this gay team anyway, nice atmosphere etc.

I don't know the showering/ changing situ. They come into the bar clearly striaght from the feild training, but they dont stink.. Which makes me think they maybe just take it relatively easy and go home as is, so maybe they don't bother with that at the place.

Weirdly the only ones who come in with that particular disgusting smell of sweat on cold skin, are the women's team. They are a bunch of absolute hogs who get their tits out, drag children out of their beds to stand boredly around the club while they drink until late pm a school night , and are under no obligations like the men's team to wear suits and be respectful in the clubhouse. There is also some disgusting swinging going on with a few of them.
But I won't go on about my withering disgust of them (I just did).

Now for the apparent silent populace of poons and troons in the locale, which is apparently stratospheric, I have learnt, after a conversation with my peaked into oblivion gay male bestie from high school.
He sent he a video, it was a hell of thing, I'll see if I can dig it out and it's not identifying.. It was his block list on Grindr.
He said "anything looks remotely female, I block"
This list had femmed () up dudes, as well as pooners, both in an even split which was curious to me, I didn't know the female presenting had any place on Grindr. But what does a troon mind for places and propriety?
Anyway, it was the sheer size of it. He opened it in his pc browser then used the phone to video his screen. He then scrolled down for a full minute, until he got bored, not because the block list ended.
Thousands. Upon. Thousands. Of troons and poons.
Apparently local to here, and this is not a huge city, nor does it neighbour any other big cities with endless sprawl.
It really was a sight to behold.

Oh I nearly forgot the first one I ever saw round here. HSTS, of the very old school but not actually old. Worked behind the bar in a now shut down pub. Wore the same weird slutty/French 90s catwalk model clothes literally every single time I saw them. Summer, winter, no matter.
As in one single set of a few skimpy garments, which when I saw them a year later, looked as you'd expect, substantially more ragged than the first time. A little bit scary but honestly quite an interesting sight to see, more exotic and mysterious than the pitiable anime inspired AGP checkout troons.
No interest in women other than shooting vaguely venomous glances, probably does a roaring trade selling pervy old winos the chance to suck a dick.
That's the only thing that could explain the outfit. Need to advertise and all that. Pervy old ex shipyard winos fear and abhor the internet, needs to be street advertising.
Like I say, very old school. Honestly quite nostalgic.

Oh my god, wait, and how could I forget this one! This was really, really special.
I'm in the chemist. An enormous, and I mean, really huge presence rumbles in behind me. I am nearly knocked off my feet -not by any heft, but by sound. I literally feel my chest cavity reverberates with the baritone of this voice, like I'm at a very loud concert, I have never heard such presence in a voice. It is both loud and low and just so powerful.
I turn to see a man in his late 60s, easily 6'5, broad as can be, wearing a floral full length dress and jauntily applied bob wig. I am stunned. Fat though she is, his wrist would be bigger than rugby pooners calf.

"AHM JUST IN FOR ME ESTROGEN FLOWAH, THERE YE ARE PET, BOHOAHAOHAHAHA''
This friendly happy chappy, was again, such a sight to behold, yet his countenance and the fact that he was, despite his age, a literal brick shit house, means that he was an ill will repellant, disarming terfery by sheer bafflement in any interlocutor, his size repelling any thuggish street shouting stranger alike. I doubt anyone would have dared say anything to him from without the safety of a car, only on a fast moving road at that.
Honestly it was fascinating. The voice, my word.
It wasn't just that he was a troon, I have never felt someone else's conversational speaking voice quake my body without amplification before.
I would absolutely love to see him again, maybe take a little stroll in his wake to observe for a while.
Follow in awe.

Now that i reflect, most of my troon and poon interactions have been positive - neutral or at worst, chaotic good.

But then, I am not target of their shagging escapades in the gay/lesbian dating world. It still goes to show, it really does take a special kind of cunt to be the archetype we chronicle here. Hashtag not all troons and that.
I feel for the sound ones, that they get led down the garden path of fucking up their health, it's a damn shame. And the best that can come of it, is someone types, impressed, on kiwifarms, that you don't come off as an absolute shit piece.

 

[Thomas Eugene Paris]

Yet, the body wasn’t plump nor fat; it was just remarkably tall and powerful. The face was delicate in contrast to the rest of the physique, and the hair impeccably styled.

No need for self-flagellation; you knew in your gut from the very beginning that she wasn't a troon. Trust your instincts!