plooboobl

[plooboobl]

I should probably write either a follow up to this, or fully flesh it out and make and actual *story* out of this

Imagine, if you will (cue Rod Serling voice) an alt girl being gifted a strap by an anonymous friend, since the "peg me goth mommy" trope is still very much in vogue. She's a little weirded out, but, well, she does have a quiet urge to put it on. As she lays in bed with the leather harness wrapped around her soft, porcelain waist, she stares at the fake rubber cock jutting out from her crotch. It's a strange sight, but there's something compelling buried under deep layers of id to keep it on. She doesn't think anything of it, though. It's just a little harmless fun. A little harmless fun that she likes looking at. A little harmless fun that she constantly thinks about wearing when she's not at home. A little harmless fun that she likes to walk around in, in the confines of privacy, feeling the cock wobble with every graceful step as she does basic chores with the little harmless fun slung around her waist. A little harmless fun that she goes to bed wearing, stroking the cock, biting her lip, massaging the rubber dildo with a delicate hand, almost feeling the sensations a real cock would have, rolling her soft eyes upwards as the pleasure of the phantom appendage course through her nerves, sending shivers up her spine. It's just a little harmless fun as she orders a different dildo online, one that matches her skin tone, one that's a little bigger, a little thicker, one that has a little more heft as she affixes it to her body and is satisfied with the supple weight hanging between her thighs. A little harmless fun that's firmly a part of her routine. Firmly a part of her nightly forays, pulling up her phone with one hand and stroking her cock with the other, squeezing the detailed fleshy ballsack hanging underneath it as she fantasizes about shoving her length into a cute guy, watching him squirm underneath her, grabbing his shoulders and letting him know how a real dick, the thoughts of a man calling her sir, calling her daddy, as she fucks him like a man driving her wild as she masturbates into the long night. Just a little harmless fun, is all that it is, right?

[plooboobl]

Forcemasc where a beautiful cis girl falls in love with a deeply closeted guy who only has a thing for mature men, but realizing there is a way to "make this work," the guy loads her up with testosterone, watching as with every shot her clit gets bigger, her body gets hairier, her voice gets deeper, and her weight gets higher. She's confused and nervous, but he assuages her feelings. Says that maybe she should work out more, and maybe buy some less fem clothes, and maybe get a haircut.

As the t works it's wonders, she's too distracted by how good the sex feels to contemplate why her (her?) breasts are sagging and growing hair, how her once-feminine frame has filled out and her shorter hair is thinning and she smells so musky all the time, all the while her bf equivocates and deploys his tactics. Any time she shaves or tries to wear makeup, or looks in her closet for a nice dress, or does anything resembling a woman's lifestyle, he gives her the cold shoulder. Ghosts her. Conditions her with criticism. Soon, her old routines fade. Gone are bras and frilly skirts and drawers of makeup and mascara. Instead as she slides a plain shirt over her hairy chest, drags a pair of boxers up her hefty thighs, and runs a finger over her growing stubble, she delights at hearing her boyfriend calling her his "big handsome boy" while he squeezes the packer - a birthday present - bulging out from her crotch.

And as she stares in her bathroom mirror after several months, and sees the absolute bear staring back at "her" where a pretty woman once stood, she's only partially shocked. His shorter hair slicked back, his manboobs draped above his hairy stomach, his big tdick standing erect, he looks more like 35 than 25. And he looks better than ever before.

[plooboobl]

Imagine, if you will (cue Rod Serling voice) an alt girl being gifted a strap by an anonymous friend, since the "peg me goth mommy" trope is still very much in vogue. She's a little weirded out, but, well, she does have a quiet urge to put it on. As she lays in bed with the leather harness wrapped around her soft, porcelain waist, she stares at the fake rubber cock jutting out from her crotch. It's a strange sight, but there's something compelling buried under deep layers of id to keep it on. She doesn't think anything of it, though. It's just a little harmless fun. A little harmless fun that she likes looking at. A little harmless fun that she constantly thinks about wearing when she's not at home. A little harmless fun that she likes to walk around in, in the confines of privacy, feeling the cock wobble with every graceful step as she does basic chores with the little harmless fun slung around her waist. A little harmless fun that she goes to bed wearing, stroking the cock, biting her lip, massaging the rubber dildo with a delicate hand, almost feeling the sensations a real cock would have, rolling her soft eyes upwards as the pleasure of the phantom appendage course through her nerves, sending shivers up her spine. It's just a little harmless fun as she orders a different dildo online, one that matches her skin tone, one that's a little bigger, a little thicker, one that has a little more heft as she affixes it to her body and is satisfied with the supple weight hanging between her thighs. A little harmless fun that's firmly a part of her routine. Firmly a part of her nightly forays, pulling up her phone with one hand and stroking her cock with the other, squeezing the detailed fleshy ballsack hanging underneath it as she fantasizes about shoving her length into a cute guy, watching him squirm underneath her, grabbing his shoulders and letting him know how a real dick, the thoughts of a man calling her sir, calling her daddy, as she fucks him like a man driving her wild as she masturbates into the long night. Just a little harmless fun, is all that it is, right?

[plooboobl]

There needs to be more forcemasc storied involving the evil nefarious twink archetype. Not as the end result of the forcemasc but the Machiavellian string-puller behind masculinization. Forcing beautiful cishet girls, fabulous femmes, and rival twinkish guys into "proper" manhood, often for banal and petty reasons.

[plooboobl]

The very un-fun and problematic kind of masculinization where a very obviously cis girl who very obviously Does Not Want to be a Guy (TM) is forcemasced into becoming, by most measures, an unattractive man. Having her steady diet of t-shots forced on her and then watching in shock as her toned, supple body gains weight and gets covered in hair, as all of her makeup and good clothes gets thrown out, as her long, wavy locks starts thinning and receding. Wearing sweatpants and basic t shirts while her pretty face gets covered in acne, the peach fuzz lining her jaw turns slowly into a full-on beard, and her clit, constantly aching for attention, morphs into a thick, fat t-cock emblematic of the thick, fat t-man she has become. Instead of either fighting the changes, or accepting and enjoying them, she's just resigned to manhood, and kind of passively settles into the boring life of a vaguely middle-aged slob. Working a dull job during the day, then going home and watching tv and drinking beer and gaming. He constantly thinks about when he was a hot woman, and in between sessions of jacking off his fat t-dick and playing with his hairy tits, he pines over the past he once had.

[plooboobl]

Quick Rundown Post

I will only reveal my age (23 years old, b. 2001) so there's a clear delineation that I am not a minor. Everything else I will leave up to the imagination for reasons that I will also leave up to the imagination. Anyways

I enjoy forced masculinization, especially when it features cis women/high femmes getting man-ified with rather dubious at best consent and with a focus on humiliation and belittlement.

I understand such things can be complicated and problematic

I apologize if anyone is offended by both the problematic content of my posts and the grotesquerie that is passed off for prose. I do not endorse transphobia and misgendering. This is purely fiction (smut) and nothing more.

[plooboobl]

Opening up the pert e-girl to horny bear forcemasc pipeline. Loading her up with testosterone and watching as she bulks up. Her feminine figure fills out and doubles up with fat and muscle. Her beautiful, vibrant hair starts thinning, then gets shorn off. Her old wardrobe of pleated skirts and thigh-highs and chokers replaced with more appropriate jeans and tank tops, and then making her stuff a nice latex packer under her new boxers so nobody gets the wrong impression. A face once sporting winged eyeliner and plump lips is now more noteworthy for the growing beard and bushy eyebrows. She protests. She's humiliated. She says she's nervous. But she never says to herself that she wants it to stop. She doesn't want to admit that she's enjoying it. Every night as she slides a hand underneath her boxers, through the mass of coarse pubic hair, and strokes her throbbing clit, the sensations of pleasure outweigh the apprehension of the manhood looming over her. Every time she looks in the mirror and, where a beautiful woman once stood, there's now a full-fledged man, her long hair replaced with his bald head, her perky breasts now his sagging and hairy moobs, his arms now able to flex with corded muscle, her crotch now featuring his t-dick poking between his thick thighs, the idea of being a woman slowly fades.

The final thing, the fait accompli, is him going through his phone and seeing all of the pictures and selfies of the woman he used to be saved on there, and instead of feeling just a sense of loss, he gets horny. As he gropes his fat tits and massages his cock and runs his hands down his hairy belly, looking at her bare breasts and pretty face, he realizes he will never go back, and will never want to go back.

[plooboobl]

Watching the most beautiful woman get slowly forced against her will into becoming the biggest, beefiest guy possible while all of her protests are overridden and all of her femininity is stripped away. Maybe he can keep his tits, now hairy and flabby, as a reminder of what he once was. But as he feels his t-dick throb every time he gets called "sir" he knows that his form is far superior to any old femme one.