it’s really beautiful how my female body responds to sexual intercourse.
even just feeling a brush of my boyfriend’s hard penis against my body activates my female reproductive system for mating. i can feel my clitoris begin to stiffen and grow sensitive, my vagina begins to drip and relax to invite his cock inside, and i’m overwhelmed by the urge to lay back and spread my legs so he can’t resist penetrating my pink, wet, clenching pussy.
once he’s truly claiming my pussy, on top of me holding my body bent in half so he can slam his penis in and out of my babyhole at will, it feels so right to surrender all control of the situation and accept that being female means he can do whatever he wants to my body, and that my body now exists to lay there helpless and pleasure his cock. even if i tried to push him out, the contractions of my vagina would only further stimulate his penis and cause him to orgasm inside of me quicker.
when i feel his breathing get heavier and his penis start to harden and lengthen, preparing to inseminate me, i feel ecstatic. my pussy naturally clamps down around his cock, causing overwhelming pleasure for both of us as he loses control and thrusts fast and hard and so deep inside that it hurts. i can always feel him harden the last bit and shove himself as deep as he can inside me to cum, following the most basic male sexual urge to impregnate a female.
nothing turns me on like his masculine grunting and moaning as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts, and finally slams so deep he hits my cervix and pumps his semen right into it. each pump of sperm into my unprotected pussy is ecstasy. i feel whole, i feel womanly, i feel bred. he stays there with his still-hard penis inside me, making tiny little thrusts to keep pleasuring his penis with my pussy, and to make sure his sperm doesn’t leak out too much.
often he collapses on me, pinning me to the bed by my vagina, as his cock continues to throb and twitch inside me. he’ll sometimes thrust in and out a while longer, lost in enjoying my pussy the way only a man can do. i love being trapped by the weight of his body and the force of his male penis shoved inside my pussy, spreading me open, vulnerable, and making it impossible for me to leave. i wonder every time if ive finally gotten pregnant, if this is the creampie that makes me a mother.
I get so embarrassed calling my body parts what they really are. I know I dont have a dick. I cant call it that but I really dont want to say clit either because it only confirms I'm really a girl.. its so humiliating. I need to be forced to repeat whats actually between my legs until I'm so used to it that its not humiliating anymore
💜 What is your favourite fantasy involving detrans/misgen?
ooooo good question! there are a ton, honestly.
being detransed into someone's cow. being forced to carry a pregnancy and deciding to present as a woman for my own wellbeing before ending up having a chain of pregnancies until i give up on ever being seen as a man. being hypnotized to love my detransition. being kidnapped and raped pregnant by people who refuse to believe i could have ever considered myself a man. the list goes on. it's most of what i've been getting off to for the past... while. usually mixed in with another kink of mine like hucow or rape or hypno.
right now, detransition by a thousand cuts is really appealing to me, though. the slow, steady roll of change that i don't realize i'm embracing until it's too late.
i want someone else to slowly, lovingly convince me to detrans, especially someone else with a detrans kink. maybe i'm hesitant at first, just doing what they want me to because it can't hurt, and it turns me on. what's the harm in dressing more fem? styling my hair differently? shaving more often? but over time, they keep pushing me just a bit further, challenging me. it becomes a game. what can i tolerate doing for them? wearing bras sometimes, then most days, then every day. shaving every day. wearing makeup, skirts, dresses.
they always make sure to mention how beautiful i am. how hot they find me dressed up like this, shaved. how it's so nice to have me on their arm in public when i look like this. never directly speaking negatively of my masculinity or ways that i'm presenting more masculine, but just praising the feminine aspects that i'm embracing. i feel uncomfortable but hot every time they praise those parts of me, especially while they fuck me.
they sit me down one day after we've had a lot of back and forth about testosterone, but never a full conversation. when they ask me why i still need it, i tell them i like the way it makes me feel, that i like the way people look at me when they think i'm a man, how strong i am. they point out that people will still see me as strong, still likely see me as a man if i decide to present that way. but they want me to really feel in touch with my body, with the beauty of my femininity. they want to feel my curves and know that the only thing in my body is me. they want to experience me in the full glory of estrogen.
i hesitantly point out that i'm still me on testosterone, just a little hairier, stronger, rougher. they tell me they know. and that they want to see what else there is in me. they want me to go off for a while and see how i feel. i've been enjoying myself and the challenges we've been doing. i don't want the compliments to end. they've complimented more and more the feminine things i do, while the masculinity receives barely a whisper. i crave their attention. i also crave the challenge of seeing if i can keep up with these challenges in my presentation while off t, and seeing how pretty i can get for them.
i agree to pause my testosterone for a while and check back in a few months. my partner seems so fixated on me that night, telling me how good i am, how right this all is, how perfect i'll be now that i'm embracing my true self, and i love the attention.
we keep playing our game as the weeks and months go by that i'm off of testosterone. i haven't used a binder in months, and have been so excited about how much they love my tits when i wear a lacy push-up bra, so i've been wearing them a lot. the way i feel in a skirt is so fun, and i wear a flowy one at least once a week. when they suggest i start painting my nails to fit the aesthetic i was going for, i get excited and agreed.
i consider myself a gender non-conforming man, and people start using different pronouns for me, or asking. my partner encourages me to change my pronouns on my social medias, since i'm trying to be casual and chill about gender. they point out that i wanted to embrace different things, and this is one of them. i change my social medias to they/them and start letting friends know i'm using different pronouns. my partner makes sure to pay special attention to my tits that night, calling me beautiful, telling me they're so glad that i haven't been squishing my tits down like i used to.
they keep pushing me in little ways, trying to help me see what all i can do. we've worked on a lot of ways to deal with anxiety and dysphoria and remind myself that it's not the end of the world if someone thinks of me in a way different than i think of myself. we work on coping strategies for any discomfort. and we keep going.
we play a lot with the idea of detransitioning me when we fuck, the concept of turning me into a girl, even though they tell me that it'll only go as far as i want it. they want to indulge in our shared lactation kink, and i start pumping for them. in the following months, my tits plump up even more than they already have off of t, and i feel so strangely happy about it. so content with how my body is changing. i know i'm still valid as whatever gender i am. and it's so fun to be feminine.
i get complimented so, so much now. i remember how good it feels to have women treat you like one of them, the compliments and smiles. i start trying to train my voice, because sometimes it comes out in a way that doesn't really fit my aesthetic. they ask if i want to change my pronouns to reflect how i seem to be feeling sometimes- maybe she/they? it feels like almost too far of a jump to do she/they instead of they/she, but they look so pleased by the idea, and i want to make them happy. want them to tell me i've done well.
my socials change again, and i let my friends know too. my partner seems almost feral with me that night, telling me how good i am, how beautiful it is to see me happy in my womanhood. it gives me a little twinge inside but simultaneously makes me so, so horny.
after a year off of testosterone, and almost as long without wearing any of my men's clothes, they gently ask if i'm ready to donate them. they note how i don't really seem to like them anymore, that we don't really have the closet space. i look longingly at the clothes, the remnants of a past time. my partner tells me that if i donate them, we can buy me something new and cute to accentuate my milky tits. i feel a pang of discomfort at discarding my old life, but they lead me through it with gentle, loving guidance. it'll feel so good to just let it go. i don't wear those clothes, i don't need them.
we go the next morning to donate them together, and they feel up my tits in the car before we leave, telling me how gorgeous i am and how good of a decision this was. that i'm so good, such a good girl. and being called a girl no longer gives a feeling of wrongness. it feels like it fits, because i've spent over a year changing everything about how i present and how i interact, embracing what femininity has to offer. i've taken their game and run with it and even if i feel like a boy sometimes, or like something that isn't a girl, i can also be a good girl at the same time.
i want to be a good girl.
i realize that with an ache in my chest, an almost sinking realization. but the sinking is akin to floating, after a second. i am a good girl.
after another few months of me living this new life, so changed, we agree that it's finally time for me to get knocked up. they've wanted to impregnate me for so long, but it's never been the right time with our lives. we finally have everything in order.
i discontinue my birth control and we go after each other hungrily. they use me like their perfect little toy and all i can do is take everything they give me. they tell me how badly they want me to be the mother of their children, just a good knocked up whore for them. that i'll look so fucking hot as a pregnant woman, swollen and soft from their seed.
as they finally fuck me full of cum, they growl how i'll always be a good girl for them now, how i'll never go back to being a man, that this is the rest of my life. they bring me to my own climax afterward while making me yell how i'll be their perfect girl forever, how i'll always love being a girl for them. it's the hardest i've ever cum.
as we cuddle in bed afterward, i silently go to change my social medias to she/her, and text my friends to update my pronouns one last time. my partner just smiles and rubs my abdomen.
I just want a guy who is so in love with me that he does everything in his will to convince me that I really am a woman. Not out of maliciousness or hatred, but just out of the genuine belief that i've never experienced true love/womanhood
I want him to ravish me in ways only a man could to a woman. He would grope and handle my most hated parts, and praise me as I start getting aroused.
He would pour out his soul admitting what he loved about me and my body.
I want him to tear up as he puts his hands on my belly and talk on about how his sperm will change my life. How being his wife and a mommy will fix my delusions. He just wants me to be happy
Of course I’d take care of you, I’d be constantly groping you, telling you how much I love your new body and how pretty it is. I’d convince you to put on a frilly push up bra every day and I’d pull you to the mirror to show you how pretty you look every time.
I would play with them whenever we’re just relaxing and watching a movie, I’d make you gripe yourself every time you got on your knees for me.
Every single day when you’re getting ready, I’ll smother you in kisses and call you the prettiest girl in the world while I continuously grab at every inch of your body and show you how much I adore it, until you can’t do anything but stare in my eyes and listen to me call you the prettiest girl in the world <3
That's the dream. A good and gentle man who's willing to put in the work to ease me back into womanhood, one praise at a time.
Someone who won't let my dysphoria get too loud because he's constantly talking over it! I don't want any time to think for myself. That is what got me into trouble in the first place.
i usually keep this kink entirely to myself, but i'm on my period today (even though i've been on T for years) and for some reason it always makes me really, really horny, and has basically no other effect. i just admitted to my fiancé, the man i've been with for almost a decade, that the idea of being misgendered and forcibly detransitioned during sex turns me on. he already knows from past conversations that i enjoy the idea of him getting me pregnant. i asked him to call me his wife once, and blushed so hard that he hasn't stopped saying it since - same with occasionally using she/her for me.
you know what he said in response to my confession? "that makes perfect sense."
...having typed this all out, maybe i don't keep this kink "entirely to myself" after all.
Oh, I'm sure you've been very subtle, sweetie. Your husband-to-be must be a deductive mastermind to have even begun to realize it, just from you getting off to the idea of him getting you pregnant, and blushing furiously when he calls you his wife, and getting flustered when he uses "she", and surely, definitely nothing else that he would have noticed over the past decade.
I'm sure that you're just as private about it as you think you are. That even if your husband, Mr. Sherlock Blanc, deciphered the clues, no one else would ever be able to notice anything.
And obviously it'll stay that way. Having him regularly fucking you full of cum while telling you what a pretty little housewife you'll make won't ever have any effects on the rest of your life. You'll be a good girl for him behind closed doors, and it won't change anything, and no one will ever know.
ugh. need someone to lavish praise and affection on me when i'm feminine. the more i lean into womanhood, the better i'm treated. especially when i'm feeling dysphoric but still embrace my femininity anyway. good girls get good things.
somebody please brush my long pretty hair out before you get ready to breed me? it makes me so much wetter this way, when you insist on turning me into a beautiful girl, it's so fucking embarrassing
i wanna help a confused little thing detransition so bad… it starts with him shyly saying that it’s ok if i call him a good girl in bed sometimes- he’s still a boy, he says, it’s just a turn on. and for a little while, it is, but something changes as we keep going.
i notice how hard they cum around my fingers when i coo at them for being my good little girl, my princess, my babygirl; i notice they don’t react as much- at all, eventually- if i call them a good boy. we both know that something is different, that it feels more real, but i don’t say anything- just keep reminding them they’ll always be my good girl. slip in a princess here and there in casual conversation, watch their face heat up. pretend not to notice when they wear a little tighter clothing, stop binding every day. i know it’s coming when they tell me over dinner one night they’re fine with he/they pronouns, and they know i know too, but i just tell them im proud of them for telling me.
i smile into their back that night as i run my fingers through their slit and feel the full body shudder when i ask if she needs something. i take them shopping and quietly ask if they’d like to go to the women’s section, too, and squeeze their waist lovingly when they blush and nod. tell them they look so cute in that crop top, that the leggings make their ass look great, remind them that boys can wear skirts too when i catch them looking.
he/they becomes they/he. i notice their hair growing out, twirl it in their fingers and tell them i like it. i pull down their skinny jeans one night to find boyshorts rather than the usual boxers and pin their thighs open, making them cum in the cute boyshorts and pushing them aside to suck on their swollen clit until they cum again, whimpering in a high little voice that makes me twitch. they’re still clinging to masculinity, but it’s falling away- they/he becomes they, they tell me one night as i’m softening in them that they’ve lowered their t dose. of course baby, i say, whatever feels right, and i can’t help it if i twitch a little in their warm hole when they say it.
they appear at breakfast one morning in a sundress, and if they don’t say anything i wont either, other than “you look good, princess”. when i slowly undress them that night, unlacing the back, gently moving their now long hair over their shoulder, i do it front of the mirror, whispering how i love their beautiful feminine body as they shiver and whimper, dress falling away to reveal a cute little bralette and lace panties, already damp with their arousal by the time i slowly pull them down around their thick thighs to feel them.
it’s not so soon after that they tell me they’re thinking of taking a break from t, just for a month or two, and i tell them i think that’s a good idea, im proud of them for listening to their body, and i see the fear melt away from them as they nod, clinging to me. i pay close attention, watching as their body changes, asking them every night how it feels, how they feel, what they need from me. i don’t push, but i see the way they flush in pleasure when someone asks if they’re my girlfriend, rub their back under their crop top when they murmur, i’m his partner, yeah.
i notice how they haven’t bound in months, how they only wear feminine clothes now, how they haven’t called themself a boy recently at all. i notice, but i don’t push- this is something that needs to come from them. they/them becomes any pronouns, and i feel pride and love fill me at the little hitch of breath i hear when i say “she’ll have the same i’m having” on our anniversary dinner.
i ask her on the walk home, with no one around, the familiar question of how she feels in her body now that she’s off testosterone, what changes she’s experiencing, if she likes them. she nods, slightly. looks around, and says quietly, i don’t think i’m gonna go back on it again. i look into her eyes and wrap my arm around her waist and tell her i love her, im so proud of her, that i think this is the right decision. we walk a little, and before we get to our place, i ask if she wants to go on birth control, now that it’ll be more dangerous. her little “no” gets me half hard by the time we’re in the bedroom, and when i cum inside her that night, i can’t help but place my hand firmly over her womb, and i feel her cum harder than i ever have before.
i’m not surprised, after, when i feel her body shake against mine, when tears fall from her eyes, and she finally admits it- tells me she thinks she’s a girl, after all, that she wants to be my girlfriend, my wife, a mother, that it feels so right watching her breasts fill back in and her skin soften again, so right when i call her “her”, whispers her name, her real name, her first name, into my ear and shakes in relief as it slips from my mouth for the first time. i knew it was coming, but i don’t tell her that, i tell her that it’s ok, it’ll all be ok, she’s a beautiful girl, i’ll always love her and support her, no matter what, im so damned proud of her for having the courage to experiment, to tell me. she says she’s scared, she doesn’t know what to do, and i hold her tight and let her cry it out, murmuring her name over and over again, and when she calms down i tell her we’ll figure it out together. she doesn’t have to tell everyone, or anyone, if she doesn’t want, nothing has to change, that she can start slow, that no matter what i’ll be there for her, and she falls asleep safe in my arms with me still inside her, making sure my seed takes in her womb. when we wake up the next morning and i brush her hair out of her face, call her by name as i greet her, remind her that i love her, i see her shakily match my smile, her real self finally pouring out, and she tells me she’s ready to be a girl again.
Make out with your fakeboy's pussy. Lock your lips against her big fat pussy lips and kiss her. Shove your tongue in her hole and swirl it around. Moan into her as you keep going. Suck and maybe nibble on her lips a little. She won't think she's a boy by the time she's squirting her juices everywhere.
treating myself to the rabbit ear cap on my vibrator with my clit trapped between them while i lay on my back while i think about a man convincing me that it's okay for me to let the woman inside of me out
Body worship in a dysphoria-inducing way. Kissing her breasts and sucking her nipples for an excruciatingly long time. Tracing her feminine curves and stopping and lingering on any delicate, female part. Teasing her about how wet she gets in a hushed voice.
i dont want to get pregnant it's so scary but it's hard to get off without thinking about getting bred... ignore what i want and show me what my body is for, why my pussy gets so wet and drippy... i need to feel the cum deep inside me and the dread and excitement if it will take or not... i don't want it but i need it
I wanna be forced to misgender myself in a nice way.
When I'm having sex with a man I want him to force me to say "I'm a beautiful woman", and that I deserve to be treated as such. I want to be forced to acknowledge that I love my vagina, and how good it feels for my breasts, clit and pussy to be touched. I want him to force me to spread my cunt and look at it, stare in admiration, and for me to admit how much I want to be fucked in her. How I love staring at her, and my huge hanging tits.
When I'm pregnant I want him to force me to look at my belly, and repeat how good of a mother I'm going to be.
