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who wants to be my little sister and shotgun until they dont know their own name anymore

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as I'm mentioning HRT stuff, let me say this (again)

Please do not. tell me that my body makes you feel like shit? Please?

I understand feeling bad, comparing your own HRT progress and yourself to other girls, being dysphoric or dysmorphic. I have- and am- there with you. But please, work on that with yourself, your loved ones, your support network, therapist, not at me. There probably are smarter bespoke words that can explain this more eloquently, but in short: it just feels like shit. Makes me want to stop posting anything. Feeling guilty and shitty for celebrating your own body and journey is not great. It makes me want to dress down. To not talk about things that make me happy amidst this absolutely fucked up world. Makes me want to not talk about my experiences, my successes that I've worked hard for- and the ones that I lucked into. It makes me feel guilty for being happy, for wanting to express myself.

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[grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you] YOU CAN CALL FAT PEOPLE HOT. I PROMISE. YOU CAN CALL THEM HANDSOME AND PRETTY AND BEAUTIFUL AND SAY YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM. YOU DONT HAVE TO KEEP SAYING "wow you look like you give suuchh good hugs" AND "omg i wanna hug you >_<" AND "squishes ur tummy!" YOU CAN HAVE FREAKY SEX WITH FAT PEOPLE.

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no yeah thanks for welcoming me to womanhood again but like yeah this man is in fact currently following me home can we maybe address that aspect

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me, just now: "well, that orgasm was nice but didnt seem super intense, i wonder if that's from the higher dose on my hrt or my adhd meds and oh the entire fuckin room is spinning and i'm giddy and it turns out there was an entire lake of pre on my tummy even though i didn't get hard. okay then."

i could do with more of that, god damn

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arts n crafts making a pit lovers mini zine with my friends 💕

We all have a single page contribution except for @renstrapp who made the amazing beautiful covers + formatted the whole thing. I will probably have copies this Saturday @ A Big Gay Market Pop up in Kingston, NY.

As usual the uncensored page is available on my Bluesky or Patreon!

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Wrote a little something as fluid as weeping on a bad night, but I figure it's better to write awfully than to not, right?

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A voice, a touch. Stimuli pouring into her mind, drawing her out from the vivid daydream of her mind. Her eyelids flutter, and light assails her sensorium. Large panels of rectangular fluorescent lights illuminate the clinical white aisles of HUMART, cryogenic coffins lining the crisp stainless steel shelves around her, but her optics focus on the boots of a petite figure in front of her, feet tapping impatiently.

"Hey, name's Luna. How much you run?" A soft voice, adorned with a rough charm. Demurely, she brushes the bright-eyed woman's hand off her shoulder, the brief warmth already seeping into her memory banks, tucked away safely. "Hello, I'm M41D unit L25-01. I'm sorry, madam, but I'm only for display," she feels her lips moving, distantly.

"The line of models I'm a part of were all recalled almost immediately after our release due to our faulty hourglass." She levels her steely gaze with the vibrant chocolate eyes of the girl before her, a lanky and awkward thing, face set in a stubborn expression.

"L25-01? A faulty hourglass? What's that got to do with being a maid? Can't they just replace it?" She huffs indignantly, puffing her rosy cheeks out in a gesture of irritation, but her body language indicates something more delicate. The slight lowering of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the stilling of her hand, still hanging limply in the seemingly infinite space between them.

"I'm afraid not - at least, not in the way you think. Each M41D unit's personality and memories are tied directly to their hourglass module, so removing that would be akin to decommissioning us for good. Our existence is troublesome, really. As units suffer wear, we often experience time loss in picoseconds, so negligible that humans such as yourself could hardly hope to notice. My line is different." Her voice is steady and firm, following the tune of the customer service microchip slotted behind her ear.

"We don't experience time loss in picoseconds. We experience it in minutes, hours, sometimes even days, spontaneously. A M41D unit disoriented and unresponsive is not only inefficient, but a bad look for the company. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I am certain you will be pleased with the more modern units in the aisle to your left." She finishes smoothly, her lips curling into a synthetic smile. All part of the program. She directs her mind back inwards, feeling for the faint memory of warm fingers on her shoulder before it disappears completely, only to be drawn back to the pristine white world before her once more.

"I said I don't care. Isn't that fucked up? M41D models all have personalities, don't they? Aren't you upset that the only thing between you and a home is a sale policy?" She stamps her feet angrily, voice growing sharper and more distraught, spinning on her heel towards the customer assistance counter, disappearing from view as quickly as she came, leaving her words in her wake.

"What an odd customer…" she thought, feeling an odd cocktail of emotion well in her chest. Despair, desire, loneliness, and… anger? If there was nothing else for her, could she not be granted the mercy of silence about her reality? She clenched her fists, turning her head to stare at the coffins all around her. Most of the cryotanks were obtuse slabs of octagonal steel nestled into the walls of the aisles, their teal gorilla glass windows filled with the thick fog of gaseous cryogens, concealing the resting models within. Those ones were lucky. Granted rest, they didn't get forced to drone on about their fate, just sink into the abyss until someone takes them to a warm home where they'll be loved.

More infuriating than her sleeping sisters were the divots in walls where tanks were missing entirely. These were the truly lucky ones, she found herself thinking spitefully. They had no need for the solace of the abyss, busy spending their time being useful, treated as human, perhaps even being given the luxury of watching their operators have dinner…

Swift movement. The world blurring, frames flitting through her mind, jerking to a sudden stop, her gaze focusing on the HUMART manager smiling widely, tapping a card to her head.

"As you can see, we're truly grateful that you'd take it off our hands. Junk like this is better off out of sight, you know? Hell, it's experiencing time loss as we speak. Hazed eyes, blank face, it's like a damn 2050-era flesh doll. Real bad optics for HUMART." his slimy voice oinked out, still sporting a lecherous grin. "Just sign here and it'll be your damn problem and not mine."

Olive scarred hands snatch the papers abruptly, scrawling a hasty signature and shoving it back into the man's chest roughly. "It? Seriously? God, just ship me the cryochamber and unchip her, I can't stand another second of you."

A familiar voice. Startled, she jerks her head to the girl, realizing the situation. "You're purchasing me?" she almost yells, shocked, stepping down from her product platform, ignoring the sting of her service chip being imprecisely plucked from her by the grumbling manager. Her eyes peruse the woman hungrily now, her curiosity tinged with glee and terror.

Silky auburn waterfall cascading along warm olive skin, deep chocolate eyes and a delicate nose, broken and re-set, offering a taste of brutality to the otherwise ornately crafted face, rosy canyon, slim neck, broad shoulders, an archaic 2025-era transgender flag necklace -

"Hey, can you hear me? You froze again…" she said, her voice soft now, nurturing, an arm slipping around her neck. "You'll have plenty of time to stare blankly at my face, if that's what you really want to do, but let's get outta here first, get back to my place. Feels like a funeral parlor, 'round here. You got a name? If not, we'll pick one together, later."

The ding of the door hardly registered in her mind, the crisp night air and the asphalt under her factory-issue shoes less so. Only when she was nestled firmly in the passenger seat of a car - she made a note to check the model and license plate number up later - did she finally smile.

Somewhere, floating in the abyss of the mind, she felt warmth blossom in her chest. "Pick a name together? … I'd like that."

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Visible bush and bulge in swimsuit anyone???

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sniffy

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🪆 dollgirlthing-txt Follow

i love being a doll. dolls are the best thing in the world

🦹 hero-boy Follow

Personally I'm an action figure and not a doll but I support you ✌️ You do you man

🦖 jurassicjake Follow

I love being an action figure. action figures are the best thing in the world

🪖 gi-joker Follow

i couldnt stand being a doll lol. love being an action figure so bad

🪆 dollgirlthing-txt Follow

can you all make your own post

21,843 notes

Based on your likes

🪖 gi-joker Follow

okay, can we talk about the infighting in the toys community?

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june = start of tank top weather

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gaining weight on purpose because i’m really hot and i think there should be more of me

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"if porn addiction isn't real then explain r/gooncave?" post is making me lose my marbles. you take ONE LOOK at this keyword search for dairy_cow_tf +crying +forced and tell me bovine hypnosis isn't a threat to national security

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Gonna be another "wearing the strap under my pants for barely noticeable style bonus" kind of days

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T4T patch successfully added under the armpit of my jacket I haven't washed in 4 years