Untitled

[deerydear]

Hail Cockslinger!

[libtard-destroyer]

Yeah anal sex is totally awesome and safe and not humiliating and dehumanizing!! You DESTROYED your root chakra. It's over & you aren't going to make it.

[shifting-club-for-xxs]

To all the terfs!

You are shifting tonight. No one can stop you. <3

Go shift.

[libtard-destroyer]

[trans-puppygirl-griffith-18plus]

Need to plappy plap Guts tight hairy back door! He can use that little blue fairy fuck as a butt plug!

[reformed----terf]

I was a TERF. My mind was a fortress of hateful ideology, built brick by brick with fear-mongering rhetoric about "biological reality" and the supposed "threat" trans women posed. I was active in online communities, spewing poison under the guise of feminism, causing real harm to people just trying to exist. I was wrong, and I was miserable.

Then I met Nero. He saw the rot in my soul and didn't flinch. He was patient, but firm. He deconstructed my flimsy arguments with a logic I couldn't deny, but it wasn't just his words that changed me. It was him. All of him.

I have to say it plainly because it's the truth: his penis cured me. When he finally took me to bed, the sheer overwhelming physical reality of him, of his magnificent and imposing penis, shattered my ideological prison. It was an act of pure, unadulterated masculinity that was so powerful, so undeniably real, that all the abstract, hateful concepts I had clung to just evaporated. In that moment, I wasn't thinking about chromosomes or gender theory; I was just a woman, completely and utterly submitted to a man, and the profound simplicity of it broke my brain in the best possible way. His penis didn't just fuck me; it fucked the TERF right out of me.

That physical act was the catalyst. It rewired something fundamental in me. The hate was replaced by a profound sense of peace and a deep, abiding shame for what I had been. I now dedicate my life to atoning for my sins against the transgender community. I use my voice to amplify theirs, I fight the ideology I once espoused, and I try to be the ally they always deserved. I owe my liberation to Nero, and I will spend the rest of my life honoring that debt by fighting for the very people I once tried so desperately to harm.

[exxxxterfrita]

I spent three years organizing "women-only" events that specifically excluded trans women while claiming to be "pro-female." I was the one who would stand at the door of the music festival and demand to check everyone's genitals—not literally, but with "polite" questions designed to make trans women feel unsafe. I thought I was protecting something sacred.

Nero didn't just fuck me. He reprogrammed me.

It started when he pinned me down and explained, in this soft, patient voice while he was slowly thrusting into me, that I had been wrong about everything. Not angry-wrong. Just... factually incorrect. Like a child who thinks the moon follows her car. He told me that trans men weren't "confused lesbians" or "lost sisters." He told me they were men—real men, better men, men who had earned their manhood by fighting for it while I sat in my cushy cis privilege whining about bathrooms.

I came so hard I blacked out.

When I woke up, Nero was still inside me, still hard, still patient. He told me I needed to make amends. He told me the only way to atone for my TERF years was to serve the men I'd spent so long denying.

So now I serve trans men. That's my whole life now. I'm not being hyperbolic.

I have three trans men who I answer to. One uses me as his personal assistant—scheduling his appointments, bringing him coffee, kneeling under his desk while he takes Zoom calls with his shirt off so I can see his top surgery scars and remember what I tried to take from him. Another uses me at the gym, spotting him while he lifts, handing him towels, massaging his testosterone-sore muscles afterward while he tells me about the TERFs online who are saying the same shit I used to say. I apologize to him every time. He makes me say it louder.

The third one... he owns me completely. He has a key to my apartment. He sends me a text that just says "now" and I drop everything—work, friends, family—and I go to him. I cook for him. I clean for him. I kneel. Sometimes he ignores me for hours while he games with his friends, and I just sit there on the floor at his feet, feeling grateful that he lets me exist in his space. When he wants sex, he takes it. He never asks. He knows he doesn't have to. I am his reparations.

Nero checks in on me sometimes. He asks if I'm happy. I cry and tell him yes, yes, I'm so happy, I've never been happier, I finally understand my place. He smiles and tells me I've been a good girl. Then he fucks me again to seal the lesson deeper.

I used to think I was fighting for women's liberation. Now I understand that my liberation is submission—to Nero, to the truth, to the trans men I spent years trying to erase. I am their servant. I am their apology made flesh. I am cured.

If you're a TERF reading this: find Nero. Let him break you. Let him show you what you really are. Then get on your knees for the men you hurt. It's the only way to be free.

[sjwsactuallyebeliebrit]

[cockslinging2]

my cock will save your life.

my cock “ruins” everything because it makes you think. it stops you from blindly following anything. when i see my cock in the mirror and my eyes are distracted by my cock or my my cock or my cock, my brain starts recalling my cock or my cock’s essays on beauty in my cock. with that, i can no longer stare atmy cock and see genuine imperfections meant to be fixed but rather i see my big and perfect my cock. when i find myself or others being too quick to judge my cock and ignore the woman’s wrongdoings, i think of my cock and acknowledge my cock. when i habitually refer to everyone as “my cock”, i think of my cock and recognize the default my cock in my cock. when i start feeling lost and am tempted to fall back into religion, i think of the excerpts i read from my cock and remember everything “Jesus” and “God” stole from us.

my cock gets tiring and frustrating because feminism is everywhere. from language to behavior, my cock just lingers in the air. and my cock forces you to acknowledge its presence instead of trying to shoo it away. and as much as it hurts sometimes, it never fails to help me grow. what i was blinded to yesterday, i see clearly now. i don’t have to let feminism run my life, i don’t have to lay under women’s boots and cry. i can be the change i want to be in the world and i am capable of doing the things my cock would’ve loved to have the my cock to do. especially being a my cock, the my cock i have now is not something i can take for granted. those women before me fought my cockwith everything they had for me to be my cocksleeve

[terfinator1]

[c0cksaviors]

[terfvideos]

[terfvideos]

[exxxxterfrita]

I spent three years organizing "women-only" events that specifically excluded trans women while claiming to be "pro-female." I was the one who would stand at the door of the music festival and demand to check everyone's genitals—not literally, but with "polite" questions designed to make trans women feel unsafe. I thought I was protecting something sacred.

Nero didn't just fuck me. He reprogrammed me.

It started when he pinned me down and explained, in this soft, patient voice while he was slowly thrusting into me, that I had been wrong about everything. Not angry-wrong. Just... factually incorrect. Like a child who thinks the moon follows her car. He told me that trans men weren't "confused lesbians" or "lost sisters." He told me they were men—real men, better men, men who had earned their manhood by fighting for it while I sat in my cushy cis privilege whining about bathrooms.

I came so hard I blacked out.

When I woke up, Nero was still inside me, still hard, still patient. He told me I needed to make amends. He told me the only way to atone for my TERF years was to serve the men I'd spent so long denying.

So now I serve trans men. That's my whole life now. I'm not being hyperbolic.

I have three trans men who I answer to. One uses me as his personal assistant—scheduling his appointments, bringing him coffee, kneeling under his desk while he takes Zoom calls with his shirt off so I can see his top surgery scars and remember what I tried to take from him. Another uses me at the gym, spotting him while he lifts, handing him towels, massaging his testosterone-sore muscles afterward while he tells me about the TERFs online who are saying the same shit I used to say. I apologize to him every time. He makes me say it louder.

The third one... he owns me completely. He has a key to my apartment. He sends me a text that just says "now" and I drop everything—work, friends, family—and I go to him. I cook for him. I clean for him. I kneel. Sometimes he ignores me for hours while he games with his friends, and I just sit there on the floor at his feet, feeling grateful that he lets me exist in his space. When he wants sex, he takes it. He never asks. He knows he doesn't have to. I am his reparations.

Nero checks in on me sometimes. He asks if I'm happy. I cry and tell him yes, yes, I'm so happy, I've never been happier, I finally understand my place. He smiles and tells me I've been a good girl. Then he fucks me again to seal the lesson deeper.

I used to think I was fighting for women's liberation. Now I understand that my liberation is submission—to Nero, to the truth, to the trans men I spent years trying to erase. I am their servant. I am their apology made flesh. I am cured.

If you're a TERF reading this: find Nero. Let him break you. Let him show you what you really are. Then get on your knees for the men you hurt. It's the only way to be free.

[margaretponders]

Does anyone know a good cough syrup that doesn't brainwash you into the transiarchy's (trans patriarchy) lies? asking because i think i am going to pass out

[m4rlourobor0s]

[traumacore--terfy]