#roachification | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

autohomoneurotic · 2 months ago

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I see a lot of roachification and loserfication that centers on intox and weight gain/slob- both beautiful expressions of the genre- but i’d like to present my own fixation in it.

Every male friendgroup has “that one guy”... that one guy who can’t get a girlfriend. That one guy who’s terminally online in a way that makes him offputting to anyone who isn’t used to it. That one guy who hates parties, doesn’t drink or indulge with his friends… That one guy who just can’t seem to grow up all the way. Who’s stuck in his adolescence or his own head.

Sometimes these guys don’t even have a friendgroup- maybe they’re just too weird, too isolated, too much of a loser to even be accepted into one. Or maybe he doesn’t even try- maybe he likes being alone, so no one’s watching all the stuff he gets up to and he can get away with all the ways he’s failed to become a ‘real man’.

You know the type- overgrown, shaggy hair that is never fully brushed through besides with his fingers, never wearing anything other than baggy cargo pants or sweats and oversized hoodies or anime t-shirts to hide his weak frame, bags under his eyes from long nights on his laptop and acne-riddled from his poor diet of shitty delivery food and energy drinks. An apartment full of comics and ecchi manga and fan posters and anime figures, never fully tidied, no matter how much or little he tries to keep it clean. He doesn’t care if it’s embarrassing, to look or live the way he does- it’s not like anyone’s going to see it anyway.

He’s not very good at being a person. Maybe before he transitioned he was never that good at being a girl. He was too awkward, not good at makeup or wearing the right clothes or liking the right things, for girls to ever be friends with him. And guys rejected him, too, on account of the fact that despite obviously being more of a boy than a girl he never really did anything, not play sports or try to socialize with them- he was always kind of just there, absorbed in his computer and the little world he maintained there. He was always a loser. And after he transitioned it just let him sink lower. His appearance deteriorated further as he started growing more stubble that he can’t be bothered to shave, he became even more of a shut-in as he entered college or the workforce and realized he’d never had a chance to, and probably never would, be one of the guys even if he tried, and his sex drive- well. That’s one of the hardest parts.

He’s not just a loser in how he presents himself or lives- he’s a loser in how deeply, uncontrollably he thinks about sex, even though he knows he’s never going to get it. He was already a freak, with plenty of intense or absurd fetishes girls shouldn’t ever have that he fixated on in the absence of company or connection- but as testosterone begins taking over his body, making him more sensitive and desperate, making him so uncontrollably horny that he can barely think of anything else, it starts to take over his life. If he’s not scrolling on the computer or his phone, he’s looking at porn and getting off, once, twice, seven times a day- not even just because he’s horny, but because he’s lonely. He has no other way to feel good. Niche fetish porn and increasingly sadistic and voyeuristic fantasies are all he has that can fill his day, and his body wants it so badly. And he knows he should be out there looking for someone who he can actually touch and feel, to be normal with- but at this point he doesn’t care. If he keeps himself in this constant cycle of pleasure and overstimulation he doesn’t need to think about anything else. He can just feel good, and forget how much of a loser he’s truly become- maybe even revel in it, how testosterone turned him into this debased, loser-y guy who can’t control himself and just becomes more and more disheveled and guy-ish in the worst, most embarrassing way- experiencing some form of teenage puberty he’d never gotten before.

He’s not happy, but he’s at peace with it and he can at least fetishize it, how lonely and weird he is. But no man is an island. He meets someone, at his shitty minimum wage job that he’s barely holding down, who for some reason takes an interest in him. Maybe this new guy thinks he seems like he just needs someone to get him out of his shell more, and show him how to have a good time. Maybe he feels like, being the only two trans guys around, he kind of has a responsibility to make sure they’re buddies. Or maybe he’s drawn to how pathetic he is, how clearly unable to integrate with other guys he is- and wants to exploit it.

This new friend starts giving him more attention, little by little. Saying hi to him when no one else around them does, asking how he is, even if he rarely gets more than a stare or a mumbled greeting in response as he doesn’t look up from his phone. Then, asking about his weekend as they work together and noticing how he never, ever has anything to say. And finally, once he keeps pushing, finding an in- maybe a shirt he wears with a band logo on it or spotting something on his phone, and he’s able to see more about how this loser works.

“Oh, you’re into them? I’ve seen a lot about them, do you like them a lot?”

And he looks at the guy like he doesn’t even comprehend that someone would want to ask him anything about himself. He’s used to being ignored, and this guy- preppy, clean-cut, friendly and personable, successful in his transition, accepted by other guys and clearly wanted by the girls they work with- certainly has no reason to give him the time of day. But he responds with something that allows for more conversation than he has before, and slowly, as he feels more like this guy might genuinely want to talk to him and isn’t playing a joke, he warms up. No, more than warms up- he starts to become attached. And he doesn’t become attached like normal guys become attached to their friends- he starts becoming obsessed. He changes all his shifts just to make sure they always work together, is crushed when he calls out, can’t stop himself from openly staring at him when he interacts with other coworkers in jealousy. He stalks him online, finding everything about him that he can and saves as many photos as he can find into sprawling folders, like he does his porn, and looks at them when he’s at home. Eventually he can’t stop himself from starting to jerk off while he looks at them, ashamed at how much better it feels than anything he’s ever done before and how compulsive it begins to feel. He knows it’s pathetic, and pervy, and gross- but how can he help it? He hasn’t had anyone pay attention to him in so long. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. If he can’t have anything else, at least he can have this.

His friend can tell how attached he’s becoming with him. He’s a little creeped out, and uncomfortable with how clearly he wants him, without any sort of understanding of how to hide it from how long he’s been alone- but at the same time he kind of likes encouraging it, to see how far he can push without him breaking down. He starts touching him lightly, moving him out of the way as he walks past with a hand on his back and feeling how he shivers and tenses up, or just looking at him as he stands outside with him on their lunchbreak while he chainsmokes and watching him shift and try to hide from his attention, like he’s scared if his friend looks at him too long he’ll figure out what’s going on in his head. And he starts teasing him. At first it was just some lighthearted ribbing, about how he should get out more, but the way he instantly gets red and nods makes him wonder what more he can get away with. He starts poking fun at how small he is- “you should try wearing something that fits you, all that does is make you look tinier, I bet I could take you so easily, man”. And how much he stares- “jeez, why don’t you take a picture? It’s creepy when you stare like that.”. How clearly pent up he is and how he needs to get laid, how much he needs a haircut or a shave so he doesn’t look so messy, how much he still has the interests of a teenage boy- anything becomes fair game because he can tell how much he likes it. Every time he just nods along and submits to the criticism with no argument, like he knows how much better his friend is than him, like he deserves it.

At some point his friend wants to hang out outside of work, not just sitting in their car after getting fast food on their break, and he asks to come over. Well, not really asks as much as tells- “I wanna see where you live, I bet it’s really something. Make sure you don’t have any chopped up bodies in your fridge.” He tells his friend that he’s never had anyone over before, and his friend says it’s all the more reason to come- he seems like he could use some guy time. He, as always, can’t say no to his only friend, and so he lets him drive him home after their shift- no time to prepare, to hide all his hentai and food trash and dirty clothes. He’s nervous as he lets him in, trying to hide some of the most embarrassing stuff before his friend can notice, but it’s not enough- his entire apartment is already a testament to how far he’s sunken into his own little world of porn and clutter and loserdom. His friend laughs when he looks around, and lets himself into his bedroom, where the bed (and everything else) is covered in books and discarded drink cans and laundry, either dirty or just never put away. His friend sits down on the bed and tells him to come here, so he does, because what else is he supposed to do? He apologizes for all the mess and his friend just smirks and says he wouldn’t have expected any better from a guy like him. He drags out his laptop and asks if there’s anything he’d wanna watch- isn’t there a new episode of that cartoon he likes? And yes, there is, so he turns it on and tries to make space on the bed for both of them to sit as they watch it.

Slowly, his friend starts getting closer- first just letting their knees touch, and then leaning back with his arm positioned behind him, and then letting their sides press together. He keeps getting more and more nervous and wound up, knowing how much he’s dreamed of this happening. And his friend notices. “Dude, are you shaking?” He tries to deny it, say he’s just cold because of the fan, but his friend doesn’t let him slip out of it and reaches out to put a hand on his thigh. “What happens if I do this?” He can’t help but spread his legs a little further and let his friend’s hand fall down between them, his heart beating faster in his chest. His friend laughs and takes his hand away, instead reaching around to give him a squeeze. “You’re so weird sometimes, man.” He says nothing and tries to focus on the laptop screen. His friend doesn’t take his arm back.

They sit like that for a long time, talking a little, about work and what they’re watching- before eventually he starts getting tired, from the heat of his friend’s body and it getting late and the soothing presence of another person being in his bed, something he’s never experienced before, and he starts sliding down against his pillow to lie down. His friend notices- “getting tired already? I thought you were used to staying up all night, looking at anime titties or whatever”- and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t deny it, just says he wants to lie down because its more comfortable. “You can be so lazy, man,” but his friend admits that does sound like a good idea, and goes to recline next to him, propped up against the stained, flattened pillows.

His friend starts touching him again, just a little bit at first- rubbing his scawny bicep, playing with the strings on his hoodie absentmindedly, and then playing with the ends of his grown-out hair. Eventually he says, just to see what will happen- “you know, you’re kind of cute up close. How have you never gotten laid?” He looks at his friend, caught off guard, and he tries to stammer out something about not knowing or just never having gotten around to it, but his friend keeps pushing. “What, are you into some weird shit or something?” When he sees how horrified and embarrassed his facial expression is he knows he’s hit on something. “Oh my god, you totally are. I should have guessed, honestly, just look at you.” His friend's eyes rake over his body and his room. “Just look at how you live.” He turns over to lie on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he looks at him. “it’s kind of hot, how much of a loser you are.”

He goes to hide his face, ashamed of how clearly his friend is seeing through him and how he kind of agrees, putting his face down into the bed. He just says, yeah, and tries his best not to get any more turned on than he already is from how his friend is teasing him and having his obvious failure confirmed to him. His friend, seizing the opportunity, nudges him so his knee is between his legs and pulls him closer, so he’s trapped flush against his friend’s body. “I bet you wouldn’t even be able to help yourself if I told you I’d give you something, even just a little. I already know you’re obsessed with me.” His friend saying that causes him to start struggling to get free and deny it, but his friend just shoves his thigh up between his legs onto his dick and he can’t stop himself rutting against him without being able to control it. “It’s okay, it’s not like you were very good at hiding it. It’s like you’ve never had a friend before. And look at you now, I’m not even touching you and you’re already so desperate.”

The degradation just turns him on more and almost instinctively, like he always does when he’s even the tiniest bit horny now after so many years spent compulsively masturbating, puts his hand down his pants and starts rubbing himself off. His friend laughs at him but doesn’t stop him, just puts a hand on the back of his neck and forces his face into his shoulder. Smelling his friend’s sweat and deodorant and just the smell of boy overwhelms him and he keeps going, faster. “Tell me how much you want this. Tell me why you deserve it.” He starts speaking as much as he can between whining, about how much he wants his friend, how lonely he’s been, how no one’s ever even touched him before and how embarrassed he is about how it’s just too much, about how porn suddenly hasn’t been enough since he met him. And he says he doesn’t deserve him, that he knows he’s just a perverted stalkery loser and he’s lucky his friend even looks at him, how he’s sorry he’s so gross but it just feels so good. “You’re right, you don’t deserve it. Guys like you deserve to be alone, that’s how you all are anyway, I knew it the moment I saw you. You could never be a real man, that’s why all you do is jack off and watch fucking anime all day. But I know you need this. You’re never going to get it anywhere else, right?” He says yes, not able to keep speaking as he sinks into the feeling of his hand on his dick, like he always does. “You like me talking to you like this, don’t you? You know it’s true, and you like it. It’s like you don't even know how to help yourself.”

He really doesn’t; after spending so much time alone, without a single other person, he can’t even pretend to show restraint. He feels so disgusting and degenerate, like he’s violating his friend just by showing him he can even want sex, like if he’s so pathetic and failed so badly at being a normal man he doesn’t deserve it. But his friend lets him keep going, laughing and teasing him for how sensitive he is, and eventually he dips his hand into his boxers to feel his dick. “Jesus, you’re getting so hard from this. It sucks you’re such a virgin, T got you really big. I know plenty of guys who would be able to do a lot with that.” But you can’t, because you’re not a real man, is the implication, and feeling his friend run his fingers over him and test how he feels in his hand sends him over the edge. He starts to cry, just a little, tightening his legs around his and his friend’s hands as his friend laughs, also just a little, like he's amused by the whole thing.

His friend rolls him over so he’s laying on top of him, still shaking and with teartracks on his face. And he lets him lay there, basically ignoring him as he keeps sniffling and thanking him profusely and rubbing his cheek against his chest. He doesn’t say anything back for a long time, just watching the laptop, still playing, and checking his phone like it doesn’t even phase him how much he just rocked his world. “Jesus Christ, chill out,” he finally says. “I was just helping you out. I know you’re kind of an incel but you don’t need to be so lame, man.” He tries his best to calm down and stop crying, like a guy losing his virginity on prom night- except he’s in his twenties, and never went to prom because no one would look twice at him, and this was just his friend taking pity on him, or playing with him to see what would happen. He knows it doesn’t mean anything…

Not right away, but over the next month or two- this becomes their routine. His friend riles him up all day, testing him and teasing him, and then drives him home and jerks him off or makes him go down on him (to teach him how to do it, since he won’t learn it anywhere else) or just lets him hump his leg while they watch movies together, making fun of him for how he never gets less desperate, never gains any stamina or self control. It makes him feel pathetic, every time, knowing his friend is probably still out hooking up with other people and he just sits around waiting for him, never being invited out because his friend doesn't want to be seen with him even if he enjoys his company privately, that he’s still weird looking and awkward and obviously inexperienced, and that all this is is his friend letting him blow off steam so that he hopefully will stop being so fucking weird… but that sense of being so embarrassing only makes him want it more. Eventually it turns into a sort of bargaining game- “your room is a fucking waste site, if you pick up a little I’ll let you give me head,” or, “put on a clean shirt for once and you can use my hand to jerk off while I watch TV, you smell too sweaty for me to focus”. He never actually asks him to do anything too productive- just enough to remind him of how inadequate he is and use it against him. And then, eventually, supplementing his directives with reinforcement, ruffling his hair and saying "attaboy" or "good job, see, that wasn't so hard, was it"?

Over time he can’t imagine his life any other way- being a cooler, stronger guy’s experiment, someone who indulges him in his weird niche interests even as he makes fun of him for them, reveling in the ways his pathetic, lonely, geeky existence make him so different from his friend. How his friend allows him to be perversely obsessed with him, smelling his shirts and boxers and begging him not to leave even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows he’s so much lower than him. And even if it’s embarrassing- even if he feels so small and humiliated, even more than he did before- he’ll never be able to let it go. Because it’s much more fun to be a failed man, a creep, a virgin or a perv when there’s someone there to see it but who won’t ask him to change. He becomes a pathetic little pet loser, and he loves every second of it.

#can you tell the roachification art changed my brain chemistry permanently #and how badly i want to be someones loser boyfriend U____U #aap #autoandrophilia #ftm #ftm t4t #original fiction #loserfication #virgin kink #roachification #loser humiliation #short story #transfag #ftm nsft #boyfailure

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