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

C51C954D-7266-4513-A319-71FD3AA1A158.jpeg
 
I can't remember if this has been discussed yet, but The Guardian posted an article to Twitter about a troon who claimed to become more emotional on HRT (x). Terfs were quick to point out that "Cadance" is not so innocent and has written about shoving tampons up his asshole:

1.png

2.png

(x)
3.png

And just like clockwork, the troon plays the dysphoria card to deflect all criticism.
(x)

From his asshole post
In my early teens I have no language for what a transgender person is. In high school in the 90’s there is only “gay” and you don’t want to be that, because anything uncool is “gay”. Like homework. Or a teacher telling you to pick up rubbish from the quad.

But there is this nagging feeling inside me that – oh man, I wish I could be a girl! Like many people who later transition, I am feasting on stories of forced feminization. Stories where unwitting school boys are kidnapped or sent to stay with strange aunties who make them wear dresses or submit them to strange scientific algo-squab-minators which turn them into girls.

The compulsion to experience a female puberty burns in me. It is as strong as the need for human companionship – but instead of wanting to be with another I desperately want to be with my true self.

This includes periods. And so, I regularly stuff my undies with sanitary pads. The rush of buying them in the store is exhilarating. I create stories, just in-case I’m interogated by a cashier – “Yeah, they’re for my… sister. Doesn’t every teenage boy buy their sister’s Libras? That’s a thing, right?” Once, I even cut my finger just so I could have some blood in my pad.

Eventually, I work up to tampons. I start with the brands I have seen in ads of the girlie magazines I have nicked from girls at school: Libra, U, Tampax. As there’s not enough holes in the front of the male crotch – well, holes big enough – the only place you can stick a tampon as a teenage boy is straight up your coight.

It is not delightful.

There’s a scene in South Park, when an alien species has hidden a radar dish inside Cartman’s anus, and it protudes from him to send signals to their home planet. When Kyle asks Cartman what it feels like when the satellite dish goes back inside him, Cartman says something like:

“You know when you take a really, really big relieving crap? Well it’s like that… backwards!”

This is kind of what it feels like to have a Tampon in your bottom. And brand matters. Some are pointy. Some have ridges. The best brand I’d ever used was Tampax Applicator Tampons – because they make insertion easier by using a little guiding shaft which looks like a nuclear launch silo.

I try to keep them in for several hours, changing them after 3-4 hours to avoid Toxic Shock Syndrome, as the little pamphlet in the tampon box says to do. But I rarely survive more than one change – making for a very short period, the envy of just about any cisgendered girl. More than anything though, I feel so ashamed. I am all different shades of wrong… I’m a teenage boy, shoving girl’s products in the wrong hole… because… why?

Plus they can really hurt when you sit down the wrong way.
(x)

He also stole bras as a kid
It is a warm winter’s night (yeah… Queensland, where climate change goes to get high). I am fixated on something. I am lying on my stomach, gawking out the window with steely magpie eyes. Tonight, the clotheslines are filled with clothes and bedsheets and towels and bikinis and even a surfboard, laid across the lines. And there are bras. The plan began to perculate in my mind with an exhilerating rush. It was a feeling before it was a thought, something akin to… forged wholeness, perhaps.

I am outside, it is late.

I have a towel with me, to pretend I’ve fetched it from a line. Caravan parks aren’t places which get very dark; there are lights everywhere through the night. But there are shadows between the rows of holiday bungalows, dark pockets where misdeeds are done, and I am in one now. My heart is pounding, it feels irregular. I am aware of both everything and nothing, hyper-alert with adrenalin and blind with fear. There is no time be choosy – I grab the first bra I come across in the dark. It is wet still, large. I am not sure if I’m breathing as I scrunch it into a soggy ball and wrap it in my towel. Then I power-walk out of the shadows and back into our cabin, the journey a heavy blur. I check at the sliding doorway if there is anyone in the living area; it is empty, everyone has gone to bed. I rush into the bathroom, lock the door, freeze… breathe… breathe….

The bra is actually a crop top – it has green and blue horizontal stripes, with massive cups. It is old; the fabric is tatty, has lost structure. As lucky dips go, it is a fucking wet dud. I put it on anyway – it feels almost slimey, and its disgusting against my skin. It is miles too big for me, hangs off me with an emaciated sigh, dropping down and dripping soapy water on my toes. I become nothing but disappointment and shame. There is no wholeness here, I feel – lessened, diminished.
(For some weird reason he spends multiple paragraphs describing the smell of his mom's fart filling their car. Don't read the whole thing unless you enjoy being grossed out.)
(x)
 

On one hand at least they have sense to say it's abusive and she needs to leave but it's funny to see them say that 'Don't blame it on T' when she states that's what was the catalyst. ' High testosterone levels or an increase in basal concentrations are associated with aggressive manifestations ' it's what Testosterone does. It's a hormone that causes aggression because males are meant to be aggressors/aggressive, the hunter-gatherer. It's literally how humans evolved. You can't disconnect biological reality of testosterone's purpose just because you want it to be so. FTM are probably even more at risk of it being an issue because they don't have a natural ebb and flow of hormones, it's constantly kept artificially high.

If it looks like a duck. Quacks like a duck. It's a duck.
 
Talked with an acquaintance about his workplace today; he was gushing about how Diverse and Inclusive it is, what good little allies they are, how totally down with the ElGeeBeetus the company is, the usual works.

Before he even opened his mouth to give examples, I knew it was gonna be about his company's latest foray into bringing in a professional lecturer on muh pronouns and Tumblrgenders.

It's 2020. "LGBT" means Troonbians, Other Troons, Tumblrina Troons, and Miscellaneous Troons. The rest of us are just dragged along for the ride. I wanna get married, leave people alone, and be left alone. Can the Council of Gay excommunicate these freaks already?
 
Talked with an acquaintance about his workplace today; he was gushing about how Diverse and Inclusive it is, what good little allies they are, how totally down with the ElGeeBeetus the company is, the usual works.

Before he even opened his mouth to give examples, I knew it was gonna be about his company's latest foray into bringing in a professional lecturer on muh pronouns and Tumblrgenders.

It's 2020. "LGBT" means Troonbians, Other Troons, Tumblrina Troons, and Miscellaneous Troons. The rest of us are just dragged along for the ride. I wanna get married, leave people alone, and be left alone. Can the Council of Gay excommunicate these freaks already?
What’s there to say about gay people? It’s 2020, everyone with an office job knows you can’t call people faggots at work. If you’re a staunch conservative maybe you’ll refer to their partner instead of their husband/wife cause you don’t believe in gay marriage, but other than that even if you don’t like gays it’s not hard to avoid the issue. Pretending a man in a dress is a woman is different.
 
What’s there to say about gay people? It’s 2020, everyone with an office job knows you can’t call people faggots at work. If you’re a staunch conservative maybe you’ll refer to their partner instead of their husband/wife cause you don’t believe in gay marriage, but other than that even if you don’t like gays it’s not hard to avoid the issue. Pretending a man in a dress is a woman is different.
To clarify, my whine was less about "Can we get back to talking about the gays" and more "Jesus I'd love it if we'd reach a point where these people with clear mental disorders could stop dragging my nighttime activities in to prop up their delusional attempts to grasp at legitimacy, and Average Joe would no longer associate the two in a lump acronym please and thank you".
 
On one hand at least they have sense to say it's abusive and she needs to leave but it's funny to see them say that 'Don't blame it on T' when she states that's what was the catalyst. ' High testosterone levels or an increase in basal concentrations are associated with aggressive manifestations ' it's what Testosterone does. It's a hormone that causes aggression because males are meant to be aggressors/aggressive, the hunter-gatherer. It's literally how humans evolved. You can't disconnect biological reality of testosterone's purpose just because you want it to be so. FTM are probably even more at risk of it being an issue because they don't have a natural ebb and flow of hormones, it's constantly kept artificially high.

If it looks like a duck. Quacks like a duck. It's a duck.

Or we could, you know, not treat emotionally unstable people with drugs that make them even more emotionally unstable.
 
Back