CONTENT WARNING: this is porn! and it contains forcemasc themes, light transphobia mentions, crying, exhibitionism, hypno?, corruption?, humiliation?, first person POV
I try not to think about it. If I'm asked about my pronouns, I just say "he/him, but also whatever, I don't care". It's not like I'm lying. It's just easier if I don't even think about it.
I used to have short hair, but I grew it out. I remember all the terrible and unsafe ways I used to bind my chest and I cringe- nobody would ever mistake me for a man anyways. Nowadays I make sure to "use the gifts God has blessed me with", just like my mom always told me to. I sometimes paint my nails blue, pink and white as a covert signal, but that doesn't exactly help with passing.
I feel safer around other queer people, but it still never feels like they quite... get it. "She- I mean sorry, uh... they?" is something I hear quite often, no matter how "LGBTQ+ inclusive" this BDSM club pretends to be. It doesn't phase me at all anymore. Sex is fun! Who cares about getting misgendered if the dick's good?, I think to myself with a wry smile. I lean against the bar, idly licking around the straw of my drink. It's easy for me to get attention around here. Just not the kind I'd like.
"Watcha drinkin'?"
A man's voice comes from behind me. I don't even turn around to look. I know I'm gonna fuck him later, but he still can't make me pretend like I care.
"Ah, um. It's a piña colada."
"Fun, fun..." I have to be better than this. But I'm not.
"Uhum."
I put my glass back on the bar and stare into the creamy, opaque drink.
"I haven't seen you around here before."
I might actually kill myself. This guy is so fucking bad at this. What's next, is he gonna ask me about where I'm from? I don't have to put up with this.
"Then you must be new!" I finally turn around, not even trying to hide my frustration. And of course it's some asshole with a mullet, a fuckass chest harness, and... wait, are those...?
"Okkkay, okay! Sorry man, I didn't mean to piss you off!" Or so he says, but he's giggling, and I can tell he's not sorry at all. When he raises his hands to his chest in defence, I notice a long, rectangle-shaped scar on his forearm, and my heart starts beating a little faster. "I just thought you were real handsome. I wanted to talk to you."
He steps a little closer and raises his hand close to my face, but leaves it lingering in the air. My head is spinning. Three seconds pass before I realise he's waiting for my permission to touch me, and I quickly shake my head. "Hold on, hold on," he drops his hand, but not the stupid smile. "Wuh- what?"
He tilts his head to the side. "What? You think I couldn't tell?" Another step closer. His voice softens, lowers. "Look at you. You're not at home in this body. I know what that looks like."
I feel myself getting defensive. My disguise works perfectly well for me, and I don't need you blowing my cover, thank you very much! But he continues before I can even get a word in.
"You've got nice shoulders, though. You work out?"
Wait, do I really...? I'm caught off guard. Fuck. Uhh. "Uh, no."
His grin spreads wider. He can tell it's working. "No...? Really...?" The way he purrs that last word momentarily shuts down my brain, and as he reaches out to touch me again I lean into it. I'm gently turned around, and he begins to trace something on my back. "You've got nice lats, too..."
I can feel people staring. They always do, but this time I feel uncomfortably exposed. Nobody's supposed to see me like this. Nobody would ever want me again if they knew that I...
"Hey. Close your eyes," he whispers, leaning into my neck. I don't know why I obey, but then I feel the row rumble of his chuckling against my back, and...
"Good boy."
The words hit me like a million stars exploding in my chest. A quiet gasp escapes my mouth. I want to tell him how badly I always wanted to hear that but my brain is slowly shutting off. All I can manage is a breathy "yes".
"Yeah?" He slides his hand down to my waist, amusement much too evident in his voice. "You've got a nice, square shape already..."
The tip of his fingers reach the edge of my panties and suddenly a pang of shame hits me- but he doesn't give me enough time to start spiraling. "We'll get you some boxers for next time, okay? You can't expect this little piece of fabric to hold your junk," and he chuckles again.
"Bhh... But I don't..." One last time, I try to protest. To hold onto reality as I know it.
But he laughs, uproariously, like he just heard the funniest joke in his entire life. "Shut up, man. Tell me, what's this?"
He reaches his hand down my panties and draws a line with his middle finger, all the way down from my pubic mound to the tip of my clit. "Silly boy," he purrs, repeating the motion, up, down, up, down... "You're rock hard already..."
And as I stand there, with my back leaning against him, my eyes closed, body shivering from desire... I'm starting to forget he's only playing with my clit. As he keeps stroking my body, I can't help but whimper... Reality starts to feel hazy... My mind is getting foggy...
The pattern begins to change. At the end of every agonizinly slow stroke, he draws little circles around my clit before going back again. My whimpers only get louder. I can't... think anymore... "Sso... hard..." I barely manage to get the words to be coherent.
"Oh, I can tell... You want some help, baby boy?" To answer, I press myself into his hand as hard as I can, whining. I feel like I'm going insane... My tip has never been this sensitive...
...But he suddenly stops. With his other hand, he pulls my hips back against his own and I can feel the bulge of his phallo pressing against my ass. He tells me to start grinding with a voice so much more forceful than before... I feel my eyes welling up with tears and my body moves on its own. I hear people gathering around us... they laugh at my desperate whining, they coo at me about how cute I look, and I even hear someone say "aw, is he gonna cry?", which just makes me moan louder. I hear him praise me from behind, I feel his lips and his teeth on my neck and shoulder, and finally, finally his fingers around my tip, and he's stroking faster now, faster... my knees buckle, I can feel my precum dripping down his hands and I can hear him taunt me about it- come on, pup, fuck my fist, be a good boy, he sinks his nails into my hips and I cry out in pleasure, I want nothing more than to shoot my load into his hand, to feel the cum gushing out my cock, to fill, fill, fill, when suddenly-
Stars. My eyes pop open. I lose my balance, but he catches me. I can still feel my dick twitching for minutes after. I cling to him, completely emptied. I hear him murmur into my ear: "Good boy... You did so good... I'll give you your first shot tomorrow, okay? Then I'll teach you how to do it for yourself..."
He presses a soft, gentle kiss on the top of my head. I feel like the happiest boy ever.
