📚 Megathread Tranny Sideshows on Social Media - Any small-time spectacle on Reddit, Tumblr, Twitter, Dating Sites, and other social media.

Candidate No 7 said:
Calls himself "Dame Isobel" too. Bet you anything he says "methinks" in meetings, if he's allowed in them.
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I feel fairly confident that he got the "Dame Isobel" name from Baldur's Gate 3 - the second act of the game prominently features a lesbian couple who are named Isobel and Dame Aylin. Aylin is a demigod paladin who is very muscular despite being a biological woman and frequently gets headcannoned as a troon by the fan base.

However I didn't actually see evidence of that in his post history, though I think that this post confirms that his girlboss persona is pure fetish.
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Candidate No 7 said:
New trans-neurosis ritual unveiled: the omni-boycott.

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All businesses of any size now start on the naughty list and need to move to the good list to be used.

Good luck with that.
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Shirley as a business placing a random Harry Potter sticker on the door as a “peado beware” sign would keep these insufferable Troons away. It’s not they have jobs or money to spend usually anyway.
 
HalTurner said:
Yeah even as a guy I can see dude knows how to dress. I think that's because 99% of troons do not, so when you see one who dresses normal for their age and style it shocks you. You're definitely right. Twink death is gonna wreck him. Also lol I thought it was Dean Withers at first. The boy some Taylor Lorenz said could be the lefts Joe Rogan one day lulz

Of course it's the BBC. I do not understand Britain. They're at the point where most of them now have conservative views on immigration and they seem to be more anti trans than America but yet BBC and their other channels are still the most woke shit around.


Christ almighty I'm going to be sick. Anytime troons and pooners talk breast feeding I get a little sick in my stomach.
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The BBC is very much of the “we know best” smug, middle class , privately educated clique.

Also a unusually high amount of perverted peados worked/working for them over the years 🤔🤔🤔🤔
 
Lentil Soup said:
I feel fairly confident that he got the "Dame Isobel" name from Baldur's Gate 3 - the second act of the game prominently features a lesbian couple who are named Isobel and Dame Aylin. Aylin is a demigod paladin who is very muscular despite being a biological woman and frequently gets headcannoned as a troon by the fan base.

However I didn't actually see evidence of that in his post history, though I think that this post confirms that his girlboss persona is pure fetish.
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Faggot looks like a trooned out version of the Wendy's logo.
 
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There's so much to unpack here. Reading this is like, the opposite of enlightenment. Instead of meaning being liberated from words and the world being seen for what it is, meaning becomes so deeply muddied in the words being used that the real world meanings cease to exist.

OPs profile for reference:
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I like to go into these posts with the benefit of doubt. First example is sensible enough as a feel good anecdote, yay for the inherent naivete goodness of children and so on. But then, the second sentence is confusing: does that mean you were the third for their date? Just a third as a friend? So you're either celebrating... being friends with people... or invalidating the identities of one of the people you're talking about in that circle. Next sentence is also an oxymoron because they invited you back to their place assuming you were a man, thereby not making them lesbians, right?? And it just keeps getting more confusing. WHAT are you celebrating???

The ending is a sentiment about how the Tumblr discourse doesn't exist in real life or whatever, but all I'm getting from this is "words don't mean anything at all, lesbians like men and gay men like women, this is true because everyone loves me and thinks I'm hot. Look at how gender euphoric I am."

A truly fascinating specimen. Freud would be jumping out of his eel-coated seat to study someone like this, but here I am getting to see this person for free on the internet. I mean this without hyperbole: what a treat.
 
cypocryphy said:
As always, it's not a fetish! He also had FFS months ago....
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When Clavicular and the looksmaxxers promote bonesmashing for a more masculine face, nobody feels ashamed to call those retards retarded.

When medical butchers attempt something twenty times more drastic, they call it "FFS" and "life saving care". Insurance will often pay for it, in spite of it being extra retarded.

If anyone deserves a hammer to the face...

JellyMaggot said:
There's so much to unpack here.
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There are homos and bisexuals, and beyond that there are degenerates who have no standards. The gays and lesbians this guy claims to have sex with are desperate freaks from the bottom of the barrel, just like he is.

Candidate No 7 said:
aroace
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We used to call them incels.
 
Chickenpolar said:
Already yeeted by the Reddit Mods. You know it's bad when even they can see it:
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Dug up the thread to see the comments (a). This one is even worse:
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Womanhood y'all, like being a bitch in heat with something Persistent Genital Arousal Disorder
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In actual women your estradiol level changes throughout the cycle. It peaks at ovulation… and the high end of the range is around 1500 pmol (and keep in mind that phase only lasts a couple of days so most of the month you’re much lower). So if this guy is at 4904 pmol all the time??? Yeah I bet that would make you a sex-crazed maniac.

I’ve seen predditors telling each other to ignore what doctors say and just go up to the highest dose of estrogen possible so they feel euphoric. Idk if taking that much has negative effects on your body other than making you horny but we can only hope.
 
Gondolindrim said:
Unfortunately, we're still years away from the medical side effects of drugged up men "breastfeeding" children coming to light.
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And even then, it will be nearly impossible to distangle the long-term effects of their "breastfeeding" with whatever other medical abuse they will commit against their children.

We already know that a large percentage of them will try very hard indeed to Troon out their own children from early ages. Nothing helps "crack an egg" more than slipping your three-year-old some Flintstones Chewable Estrogen pills.

I think I just made myself MATI.
 
Hey, did anybody else get a pamphlet or a newsletter from Big Transphobia that claims people started fetishizing pooners now? Because this is the first I've heard of it; typically the only ones interested in getting themselves some sasquatch snatch are their own fellow squatchettes. (Well, and certain desperate men who see any hole as a goal, but that feels like it's just bog-standard objectification of women rather than a craving for squatch-cunt in particular.)
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The Weird Fetish People Have for Trans Men (and Why No One Talks About It)​

CW / TW: transphobia, fetishization of trans men, misogyny, homophobia, sexualized language including “pussy,” “vagina,” and t-dick
I don’t get why nobody talks about this. People keep fetishizing trans men, but like… not even noticing they’re trans men, They don’t call them men. They don’t call them trans. They call them “boypussy” and act like they’re some new sex that exists just for their fantasy. And it’s disgusting.
It’s homophobic because they literally can’t handle liking a man unless there’s a “pussy” involved It’s transphobic because they refuse to respect trans men as men — even fully transitioned, hairy, muscular, deep-voiced men — they still want them to be some submissive, obedient, “cute little pussy boy” in their head. It’s misogynistic because they hate vaginas on women, but sexualize them on men who aren’t even women anymore, and treat them like they should be dumb and submissive just because of their genitalia.
And the ignorance? Don’t even get me started. They act like every trans man should magically have a cis vagina. They don’t know what T does. They don’t know what a t-dick is. They don’t want to know. All they want is their fantasy.
It’s not attraction. It’s not preference. It’s fetishizing, objectifying, and erasing real trans men. And somehow this is normalized. That’s the part that makes me mad.
Trans men are men. Not some weird “boypussy” fantasy. Not submissive objects. Not some new sex invented because reality scares people.
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In one of the gravest examples of transgender ideology affecting the young, a tranny's child isn't even a year old yet and he still refuses to consistently address him by the sex he was born as. This one is wild enough that even other troons 'n' poons in the comments think OP is projecting onto his kid and should let the wee one decide if he's a fellow Brother of the Ball-Snip in the future, but at this stage I have to believe a lot of them only speak sense because they know their optics are getting worse by the day.
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It feels strange to refer to my 5 month old as his birth sex​

My wife and I have a 5 month old and we didn't know she was pregnant when I started my transition. When they were born, the nurse asked if I wanted to say what they were and I hesitated. I felt like if I did I would be forcing something on them that they had no choice in. My wife has noticed that I tend to use their name instead of "son", and she feels conflicted. I talked to her about it and she said the only reason she is using his name around me is because hearing their given pronouns makes me visibly uncomfortable, and that if I wasn't here she would only say their name when she feels that they need straight verbal interactions.
My child will know that I am their momma, and when they get older I will tell them about who their father was. This more of a rant as I need to get this out and not dig myself into a dark hole.
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A TiF makes light of her mother's concerns around medication transfer from her testosterone gel. Funny how OP expected her mother to care about what she wanted to do with her body yet had no sympathy in how Mama OP worried about her own! Personally, I think anybody who uses testosterone gel should be treated like the stickiest kid at the playground that always has a sickly, yeasty odor, which is to say: avoid at all costs and only interact if they've been hosed down within the last 15 minutes.
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Funny story: psycho mom and T gel contamination​

Story for u guys, according to my mom T gel might as well be a weapon of war.
A year or so before I moved out of my parents house I got on T, chose gel bc I liked the idea of consistent daily hormone cycles rather than longer. My mom's response to this was to ban me from using our washing machine. The logic was that I would put on my dose in the morning as prescribed (waiting for absorption before dressing), taking a shower after work, and then washing my clothes thru a full hot cycle, and then the gel would somehow stick to the machine and when she went to put her clothes in, it would go thru a whole other wash cycle and drying and then she would be contaminated and turn into a man overnight.
I showed her all the research materials I could find. Transfer is something that absolutely needs to be taken seriously!! Couldn't agree more. It's important not just for trans men, but cis men too who also have women and children in their lives that they want to keep safe. But no matter how peer reviewed or solid the evidence was that this posed no risk to her, it was never good enough.
Her solution was that I should use the public laundromat down the street. By her logic, I turned my whole city transgender without them even knowing. Every person on T gel needs to have their own personal washing machine or they risk city wide contamination! If only there was a drug that strong, we'd all be bearded and ripped in the first month
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A crossdresser is divided over how he feels about Trans Day of Visibility because as much as he doesn't focus on making transgenderism his entire personality (press X to doubt), he would never have realized he longed to pop girlyslut bimboskittles and have long hair without other idiots paving the way before him openly. What I find most amusing about this, though, is that one of his issues is that while he doesn't want to be representation for anyone else, even OP has to admit that the kinds of people eager to be transgender icons are, to put it nicely, self-centered and obnoxious. How does one propagate the next generation under conditions like this?
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I'm so torn on TDOV​

This is basically a vent/rant post that IDK if anyone will relate to.
On one hand, as a trans woman I don't wanna be fucking visible. My transition is the least goddamn interesting thing about me. I transitioned, I'm female, I'm a woman, whatever, I'm nearly done with surgeries and am so looking forward to putting this part of my life behind me. So like, fuck TDOV -- I don't want this to be the defining aspect of my being.
On the other hand, I didn't fucking know that I'd want to medically transition until much later in life in large part because all I knew about trans people came from goddamn cis people. My first exposure to any trans people at all was a show on Discovery Channel (when I was like 11) about extreme plastic surgery. They had fucking reptile boy, cat woman, and then some trans woman who transitioned WAAAAY late in life and had a million surgeries but obv was super clocky. So like, all I knew about trans people was that they were basically surgical fakes. I was terrified of possibly being one, so I avoided learning about medical transition with my entire being. I got into SJW shit on Tumblr, but still avoided learning about medical transition because I basically didn't want any chance of becoming that woman I saw on TV-- I didn't learn what actual trans people looked like until I was like 26.
If trans people had actually been 'visible' in my childhood--in more ways that just the ways cis people make us visible--I know I would have let myself accept it way earlier. So now when TDOV rolls around my brain breaks. On one hand, I'm so fucking sick of being trans and being visible and having this be such a big goddamn part of my psyche. On the other hand, I know that if I (or we collectively) really actively shrink away from being visible then cis people are gonna control how we're presented.
Problematically, I also feel that if the trans people who want to be visible are the only ones who are visible that also sucks. I hate to say it, but soooooo many of the trans people who really make being trans their whole ass personality are the trans people I like the fucking least. They more often than not fully rebuke assimilation, and as a kid all I wanted to be was fucking normal. I'm not some wholehearted assimilationist who believes all trans people should be like me,, but I know people like that could never have helped little me accept myself...
But I could have helped little me, I would have KILLED to be who I am today. I work as a nurse, I pass pretty well, and I live a life where being trans doesn't define who I am. So like, as much as I can't stand the idea of being visible as who I am now--I also can't stand the idea that little me wouldn't even know that becoming me is an option.
Ugh, vent/rant over. IDK if anyone relates, I just think I needed to write this.
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Consanguinous crackdown: back in the old days, 4tran4 was famous for its fixation on fucking family, especially among the MTFs present, but now the streets are barren of brotherhumping and swept free of sister rape, thus eroding what the sub's identity once was. And if you think I'm exaggerating about whatever is wrong with 4tran4, I'm very much not as they describe how pupply play can kind of be like incest if you imagine dogs are part of the family and that there also used to be way more diaper posting! But they're all just doing it "ironically" as "a joke" and for "a bit," so don't show these posts to their relatives or their workplaces or else you're asking for TTD.
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Why is there no incest posting nowadays​

During the late 4tran/4tran 2/early 4tran 4 period you’d get like atleast one incest post a day and now you don’t get any. What gives. And why do so few doods like it we are meant to be malebrained degens
You could say the same about puppy play posts but I don’t find it as hot so not as interesting
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One of my favorite parts about lurking tranny subs is learning all of the different ways the human body can fail, such as in the case of this stupid fellow who has apparently started urinating fucking powder. Sometimes these guys really leave me speechless - imagine going on Reddit when you're pissing solids and asking for medical advice; it's often difficult for me to believe we are all part of the same species that engineered exploration of the ocean or casting off rockets into outerspace.
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Peeing a white powder​

Hey all, for the last year since starting feminizing hrt (100 mg spiro/day, 6mg estradiol in pill form /day.) I've been urinating a chalky white powder about once a week.
Typically it happens in the morning like the first or second time I go for the day...it is a powder and smudges if I press it. I have my basic metabolic panel done every 3 months and have shown no obvious kidney problems, could it be kidney stones?
If so should I be concerned? Im drinking water. Would this not happen on injections maybe?
Its traces left on a toilet seat.
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Finally, it's curtains for the clitoral cutting kink of known FGM fetishist gemandrailfan94, who seems under the impression that his fetish will fly away once he's gotten his nuts torn off. Naturally, he wants to go out not with a bang or a whimper but to the chorus of sobbing little girls, so he unfortunately shared his magnum opus of mutilation which I will now show all of you because I'm not going down by myself. What I like about this post is that he seems aware that we're all pointing and laughing at him, so if you're reading here by any chance, good luck with the ballad of your ballsack, Mr. Benson! I can guarantee you I'm as happy about your upcoming ban from the gene pool as you are.
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My femcirc finale!​

So I’ve decided that it’s about time for me to give this fetish a rest, for a few reasons
  • 1. The old sub being taken down shows that while we all enjoy it, the internet at large isn’t willing to just let us be. Especially those from a certain infamous forum, a bunch of losers and stalkers who need to get a life. If they have a problem with this fantasy, why not go after everyone who partakes? Why go after me specifically?
  • 2. I can’t think of any new ideas for this, so I’ll just combine every idea I have into one big story. After that, nothing left to do with it.
  • 3. By the end of this year, as part of my transition from male to female, I’ll be having my balls removed. On one hand, this is will be a major step in my transition, but on the other hand, once it’s done, I probably won’t have the energy/prowess to come up with these kind of things anymore. The latter isn’t an ideal situation, but if that’s the price to pay in order to be my true self, then so be it!
  • 4. I’m honestly gonna be done with Reddit in general for a while, if not forever, so might as well go out with a bang! There’s a good chance that this account will be gone not too far down the road!
So this story takes place in a late Victorian-like setting, I’m an upper middle class girl who lives with my folks. Ive come of age and the following series of events happens to me.
I wake up one morning, and my mother is sitting on my bed waiting for me to awake. Once I’m awake, and let’s me know that tonight, the doctor will be coming to inspect me before the “event” happens in a few weeks. I’m not sure what this means, but I listen and obey. She says that in order to make sure my private parts are clean and aired out, I’m to forego wearing bloomers today. To make up for that, to wear an extra petticoat (normally I wear two, today it’s three), wear a bonnet (I typically wear a bonnet or hat when I leave the house, not inside it), and I’m not to leave the house today.
Once I’m all dressed, I feel a bit awkward and conflicted, on one hand, my bonnet makes me feel safer, but I feel exposed with bare private parts under my skirt. With that, I go about my daily routine, help prepare meals, practice sewing, and occasionally sit down to rest. The extra petticoat helps cushion the hard wooden chairs we have. Later in the day, I’m instructed to go into my room and sit down on my bed.
I sit on the edge of my bed with my knees together, ankles crossed, and hands on my lap. Before long, the doctor enters the room, and as earlier instructed, I stand up, curtesy before him, being sure not to show too much leg, and then lay down on my bed.
Once in place, he peels back my skirt and I obediently spread my legs and thighs to allow inspection. He takes a look at my labia and notes that there’s a lot of extra skin, he then says the same about my clitoral hood. Finally, he checks my hymen to confirm that I’m indeed a virgin. Once he’s done, he pulls my skirt back, instructs me to sit up, and then goes to speak to my folks.
Normally, father has final say in what happens, but since this is a “lady” issue, mother is allowed to be part of the decision making. Father wants my labia sewn shut, my clitoris removed, and for me to keep wearing closed crotch bloomers, all while mother wants me start wearing open crotch bloomers and to just have my labia and clitoral hood trimmed for a clean and tidy look. The two discuss this with the doctor, with the main sticking point being all the times I’ve managed to expose myself before this. Father thinks my clit being gone will make this less likely to happen again and that closed bloomers will be good in case it does still happen, all while mother thinks I’ve learned better since. The times mentioned include, but are not limited to,
  • 1. The time I was wearing a summer dress with a slip underneath, and decided to secretly wear the panties I’d made myself instead of bloomers because it was too hot out. Everything was fine, until I tripped and ended up on the ground with my dress flipped, and my flesh colored panties and bare thighs exposed for all to see. My white slip making my thighs and panties stick out more, and the panties being flesh toned making it look like I was wearing nothing.
  • 2. The time I wore a crinoline for a party, and it ended up flipping and exposing my bloomer covered legs.
  • 3. The numerous times I’ve sat wrong and exposed too much petticoat and/or stocking.
  • 4. One time I refused to wear my bonnet, and had to be forced to do so.
  • 5. One time I tripped going down the stairs, fell down them, and landed with my legs spread, skirt flipped, and bloomers on display for all to see. Thankfully, there was no company over or anything, but mother was not thrilled about me exposing myself.
In the second and fourth instances, I was punished by being brought to a farm a family friend owned, made to strip down to my bloomers and camisole, strapped to a makeshift St Andrew’s Cross/giant wooden “X” propped up against the barn in full view of the country road, a ball gag placed into my mouth, my bonnet forced onto my head, and left there all afternoon and night. The second time it happened, I was also paddled on my rear before being strapped in.
Eventually, an agreement is reached, for now I’ll simply have my labia and clitoral hood trimmed while leaving my labia open and clitoris itself intact. I’ll also continue to wear closed bloomers for a while, and gradually begin wearing open bloomers over time. If I prove myself capable of being modest and proper, I’ll be allowed to wear open bloomers all the time and left intact. If I prove myself immodest and uncouth, I’ll be back to closed bloomers all the time. If I continue acting wrong, my clitoris will be removed and my labia sewn shut with only a small hole left for peeing and menstruation.
The doctor leaves, I change into my night clothes, and then go to bed for that night.
A week later, I’m brought by carriage to the hospital and given a tour of the place, specifically, the operating theater. I’m showed the table I’ll be strapped to, and a deep feeling of dread fills me. The bare wooden table, with metal wrist cuffs, in a bare and open view of the seats above, was a stark and haunting sight. Although they were hidden by my skirt and no one could see them, my knees turned towards each other and buckled from from nervousness.
Then, before I knew it, the very next morning after being examined and observed all night in a hospital room, I was laying down on the wooden operating table, with nothing but a bonnet on my head and a small blanket over my mid section. A group of doctors, my folks, and others watched from the above seating. A trio of nurses/assistants came to prep me for my procedure.
My private parts are shaved and then cleaned to provide a smooth and safe operating environment. A pair of hands push down on my shoulders to hold me down, my wrists are strapped to table, my legs spread, ankles strapped in place, a third hand on my chest with a stethoscope, and a fourth hand placing a chloroform soaked cloth on my face. Once I’m calm, sedated, and immobile, a ball gag is placed in my mouth.
Finally, the doctor arrives and begins his work. Slowly but surely, he trims my labia and clitoral hood, while leaving everything else alone. I’m about halfway between awake and asleep during this, and while I can sort of feel what’s happening, I can’t move or react in a meaningful way. Eventually, the procedure is over and I fully pass out. Later, I awake in the recovery room with my folks, the doctor, and a few others surrounding me. Within a week, I’m back at home and life goes back to normal, except for a few select things.
Firstly is my transition from closed bloomers to open ones. The rule at first is that I’m to wear open bloomers at home, and closed ones when we’re out and about. This goes on for a while, and eventually it’s decided that I can wear open bloomers outside the home, but only if I’m being accompanied, if I’m alone, closed bloomers it is. To mark this transition, yet another special event happens. I wear my best outfit and go into the spare room where a doctor’s table with leg stirrups is set up. I lay down on it and put my feet in the stirrups. Then the doctor comes, lifts my skirt, removes my closed bloomers (I’d been instructed to wear them at home that day), inspects my private parts to ensure I’ve healed, and then puts a pair of open bloomers on me. After that, mother, father, and I go to a large dinner party at one of their friends’s house. Although no one could see them, my open bloomers underneath my skirt and petticoats made me feel both confident and vulnerable. I felt both modest and extravagant, I could easily do something that would show off my bare private parts, but I had the sensibility and maturity to preserve my modesty. The only hiccup was one day when I tripped, the wind caught my skirt, and landed on the ground with my legs spread and my open drawers splayed out for all to see. Since it was an accident, I wasn’t paddled, but had to wear closed bloomers again for a week before wearing open bloomers again.
After that, things went back to normal, except now with my “big girl” bloomers. That is until a rather unfortunate series of events happened,
The first was one day when I ran a high fever and had a sharp pain in my abdomen. I was rushed to the hospital, where I found out that my uterus was deeply infected, and had to be removed. It was a long opening, but eventually, it was done and over with. The downside of this, was that I was now infertile, which meant I couldn’t be married away like planned. So it was decided that I was to be trained as a maid/domestic instead.
The second was a few months later when father suddenly died in a carriage accident. This caused not only our income to be reduced, but for mother to fall in to a deep depression and an illness of her own. This meant I had to take maid work as soon as possible. Once I found work at a home on the other side of town, I immediately regretted it. The work was awful and my employer was absolutely awful. After a few weeks, I was handed a new opportunity, one that would change my life forever.
One day that I had off, I met with an old friend of mine. We talked for a while and I told her how much I hated being a maid. She then proceeded to tell me that there was another way I could make money that would be far less hassle and more exciting. She said it was something known as a “Can Can”, and when I asked what that was, she told me to meet her in “that” part of town that night. Curious, I agreed to do so, and the end result was like nothing I could possibly imagine.
That evening, nervously I arrived in the rough side of town. To hide myself while there, I wore a large bonnet and a shawl so my head and general form would be more hidden. Once there, my friend lead me to a place known as “Rose River Revue”. A small and red building that had an enticing presence to it. Once inside, I found out exactly what a “Can Can” was.
A group of girls came on stage, wearing outfits that would’ve been considered scandalous in polite company. Short knee length dresses (each girl had a different dress color) with no sleeves, long black gloves that only served to emphasize their bare shoulders, black knee stockings, and shoes that covered their feet but not their (already stocking covered) ankles. The only thing remotely proper about their attire was their hair in prim and simple buns.
Once on stage, they began to dance, not a slow and romantic dance like the ones I’d seen before, but a wild and bawdy one that involved high kicks, skirt lifting, hand stands, and other audacious movements. It was then that I found out, under their short dresses, were short, almost panty-like bloomers, that covered their private parts but not their thighs. These short bloomers, along with their black stockings and white frilly petticoats, emphasized their legs and thighs beyond what could ever be considered appropriate.
However, the longer the show went on, the more I loved it and wanted to be part of it. Once the show was over, my friend introduced me to the owner of the club. By the end of the night, I had my own Can Can dress and was scheduled for training. A few weeks later, I was on stage, in my short red dress, and showing my legs for all to see! At first I was nervous and shy about the whole thing, I hadn’t worn a dress this short since I was much younger, and have bare thighs, even if hidden by a dress and petticoats, made me feel quite exposed. However, I also felt liberated and empowered. I still did maid work during the day, but by night, I was as free as could be. I knew that mother would never approve, but she didn’t need to know about this. At least I was able to support her well, and she thought I was simply working overtime as a maid.
After a few months of this, the club owner decides that some performances will have a new element added. As if our short bloomers weren’t risqué enough, now we’d be wearing short bloomers with an open crotch, much like the long and open ones I wore in casual life. One night before we went on, he had each of us lay down on a couch one a time, so he could remove our bloomers and see which of us had the nicest looking private parts. Sure enough, he thought my trimmed and tidy nether regions were absolutely perfect to be shown off. I was quire nervous to do so, but I went and did my routine with open bloomers, and it was definitely a hit with the audience.
After a few weeks of some dancers having open bloomers, it was decided that we’d try out a Can Can routine where some of us had no bloomers at all! Sure enough, I was chosen as one of the first to try it out. Showing off my bare nether regions was terrifying at first, but soon became one of my favorite ways to dance. After a while, underwear became randomized, before each performance, the owner would decide who wears what, and we’d act accordingly. It became standard for the girl(s) not wearing underwear to also wear a bonnet. This done to contrast modest head covering with audacious lower body exposure. About halfway through the show, the bonnet(s) would be removed and thrown into the audience.
All was good, until it wasn’t. Eventually, mother recovered slightly and found out what I had been up to. She said that if I wanted to stay in her home and I’m the will, not only would I have to stop can can dancing, but I’d have to do something even more drastic. I’d have to go through a second circumcision, my clitoris removed and my labia sewn shut. I reluctantly agreed, and a few days later, it happened.
Once again, I was strapped to the operating table, and put under. I could just barely feel it happening, but before I knew it, my clitoris was gone, and my labia sewn shut. It was embarrassing and horrific, but at least I got to stay in the will.
I continued to do maid work and support mother, but only a few years later, she passed on. Once I got my inheritance, I decided that there was nothing stopping me from going back to Rose River Revue and perform now and then, although it wasn’t quite the same without my clit and it’s arousing effects.
I also met a man, the best I’d ever known, who took me in and became my soul mate. He took good care of me and made me feel more loved than I ever had been before. The first time we had relations, his gigantic penis broke through my sewn up labia. It was painful, but also arousing. He was also happy to let me continue dancing.
In short, I got a semi happy ending. My clitoris had been removed and I had been made to be submissive against my will. However, I now had a person who truly loved me, and place where I could be myself.
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Early this century, my wife yelled at for taking ONE SIP of her brother's beer during a pool game (at a party) when she was pregnant; some other woman went ballistic on her like she drank hemlock or some fucking thing.

And now the babies are guzzling some cancerous hormone-stew??? (What IS it?)
Since they have no breasts, it isn't "milk". 🤢

Where are the angry busybody ladies who care so much, why aren't they protesting this blatant child abuse?
Why is this allowed?
Do any doctors ever tell them to stop or do they encourage this depravity and deliberate poisoning of infants?
 
Magic Pickle said:
Hey, did anybody else get a pamphlet or a newsletter from Big Transphobia that claims people started fetishizing pooners now? Because this is the first I've heard of it; typically the only ones interested in getting themselves some sasquatch snatch are their own fellow squatchettes. (Well, and certain desperate men who see any hole as a goal, but that feels like it's just bog-standard objectification of women rather than a craving for squatch-cunt in particular.)
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It's just straight guys being desperate or not having standards and realizing pooners are easy.
 
We always talk about men who want to be women or women who want to be men

What we speak of less and is a more ignored and less obvious cancer is the kind of absolutely fucking demented women who sexualize and idolize trannies

arya_drawz is her instagram and she is drawing boys she knows IRL as femboys and trannies

There are a bunch of troons and other harpies in her comments section encouraging the sexualization of underaged boys and asking if they are single which is beyond fucked
 

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Magic Pickle said:
Hey, did anybody else get a pamphlet or a newsletter from Big Transphobia that claims people started fetishizing pooners now?
Click to expand...
Do you remember the meme about how transphobia is 'recycled' homophobia?
I have been seeing the reverse: pro-trans is just recycled pro-gay while anti-TERFs are just repurposed anti-bigots.
...
Th is jus the 'homophobes are just closet cases' premise all over again.
 
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