Latest Posts by smolgoosegirl - Page 3

the date didn't work out but she'll get 'em next time

At what point is it acceptable to tell your Father 'I don't have a Mother anymore, I see a disappointing stranger in her place"

ok. now it’s time for april cools day

i wish you guys could hear the noises i'm making. what the fuck is that thang

Me when I need to start painting Warhammer models 🙈

Ittt meee.

Looking back on my entire life with a Post-Egg Break perspective, there are so many things that never made sense to me before, that now fit perfectly into place. These are all legitimate things that I believed growing up that I now recognize as me being trans. This is not a comprehensive list of dysphoria symptoms, nor am I pretending to be the definitive trans experience. With that being said though, if you're a man, or even a boy who recognizes some of these in himself... I'm not saying you're definitively trans, not at all. But you should genuinely start asking yourself questions about why you feel this way, even if the answer has nothing to do with gender. It never hurts to ask, but it always hurts to forget.

From a very young age, I thought that the bodies of men were disgusting; not just traditionally unattractive men, I mean ALL men were repulsive to me. In comparison to women's bodies, men were... rough, angular, covered in hair and muscle. I couldn't articulate what made them so gross to me, so I never did, especially not to the men in my life.

On the other hand, I believed women's bodies to be perfect, in literally every way. Wider hips, smoother skin, curvier frames... I was jealous of every feature that I thought was unattainable for me. I had wondered for the longest time why men even existed, as why would anyone want to be a man when women were right there.

Related to the last two points, but I never could imagine myself growing old as a man without wanting to slit my own throat. The thought of reaching my 40's, 50's, or hell, going past that into genuine old age repulsed me. I never wanted my body to change like that, to be like the hairy old men I always saw on TV and in movies. I always figured I'd die sometime around my mid-30's because the alternative was too terrifying to consider.

I always thought (and still do tbh) that men's fashion is just... boring as hell? Women get all sorts of dresses, blouses, skirts, jewellery... whatever their heart desires, including men's clothes if they really felt like it. But the men's section in every store I visited was always the same 4 or 5 brands of jeans, cargo pants, T-shirts, and polos, ad nauseum. Formal-wear was limited to button-downs and suits. I wanted no part in it, and not just because wearing tighter shirts made me uncomfortable for reasons I couldn't explain.

I knew from when I was a little kid (4 or 5) that I never wanted to grow any kind of facial hair, even though my uncle, who was the primary man in my life at that point, had a very strong close-cropped beard. I was terrified that I'd have to start shaving one day, and when I did... it wasn't an exciting moment like people always said it would be. It was more dread setting in; I was going to have to do this for the rest of my life, having never asked for it to begin with.

I honestly dreaded each new symptom of puberty I discovered as I grew older. I hated the thought of a deeper voice, body hair, a muskier scent. Like facial hair, everyone told me I should be excited for all these changes, but each one only hurt me a little more when I realized they were happening, pangs of loss echoing inside me somewhere I didn't recognize.

As I grew older and more into my developing sexuality... I started to "fetishize" Lesbians and Lesbian culture. Tying into my thoughts about women, I knew that if I'd been born a woman, I would've been a Lesbian, no question. I liked women, I wanted to be a woman... that was the next logical step, right? There was something there I identified with; something that just felt different from how "other" men talked about liking women. I thought I was just being a disgusting man who got off to the thought of women being together, and was shamed into not telling anyone because of it.

As I moved into more trans-inclusive spaces as I became an adult, I started to read posts from trans women and every time they talked about something like HRT, it felt... weird to me? Like I distinctly felt some sort of connection there but it scared me and I pushed it down as a result because facing it was too terrifying of an alternative. I distinctly remember this one post about how a trans girl couldn't jerk off without visual aids anymore and it struck a chord in me that I couldn't understand. It stuck with me, and I thought very distinctly to myself that I should be grateful that would never be me (AND NOW IT IS ASHDKSJHNJKN FMLLLLL)

I began to develop a distance from my name as I grew into my teens; what had once seemed to be the central part of my identity was rapidly becoming an outlier to how I felt about myself and my identity. I obviously won't share what it is for my own sake, but it's a relatively common Irish first name and is very masc-oriented; yet ironically I feel it was a boy's name, not a name I could see a man taking seriously. Maybe that's why I started to grow out of it even before I realized why; it was the name of a boy, not a "man."

When I finally met my current friend group, and for once had a circle that didn't know me through anything but the internet, I rapidly adopted a pseudonym based on my old gamertag; then decided to take a real name they could call me. I was starting to make a list, but the first one I ran by them was Alex, and they all loved it. It was the first time anyone had ever called me by anything but my birth name, and it was like a breath of fresh air as I was drowning. I was for the first time someone else, not defined by expectation or history; I was simply Alex.

I have more. Dozens, hundreds, thousands more. But this list has to stop somewhere and I decided to give only the massive ones for now. I hope this can help provide some understanding out there, whether it's about yourself or simply about me. That's all we can ask for, no?

Im the one on the butt

let's all lay on mama

you really gotta spoon that tgirl. i don’t care if she’s a foot taller than you you’ve gotta do it regardless.

lets roll up with mama

adoringly staring at mama

Don't be sad! Biting girls is free remember?

STOP using anti-princess language!

When a princess falls over, DO say

-very graceful, your grace

-how cute, my lady!

-well done and very ‘moe’

DO NOT say

-laughter

-wow, again?

-do you need help?

Let's be carried away by Mama

*pulls away from the kiss and looks away bashfully* i-i'm sorry but.. i don't like it when your giant blood spider watches us make out

gaming

Mountain lion kitten attacking mom, Bandelier National Monument, New Mexico. NPS photo.

as true as it is, there's more to the appeal of human domestication guide than "the fantasy for trans girls is to be loved unconditionally," it's that the affini can prove it. I'm certain there are people in my life who do love me unconditionally, but even then on some level it's hard to believe fully. it's impossible to prove a negative, "this person would love me no matter what" isn't something I could ever be comfortable testing anyway. "what if it isn't true?" a big part of being trans is having to justify your very existence even to well meaning people, and what happens when your justification falters?

and I think a big appeal to the affini that seems to be lost on a lot of people is how these stories tend to be from the perspective of "the person who is just about as against this as someone possibly could be." consider HDG proper, Elvira is against capture on a moral level for obvious reasons like "kidnapping is wrong" and "I deserve freedom," but she's also personally racist towards the concept of aliens. all of this forces the affini into a position where they can't just show "enough" kindness, to move from that position to one of love and trust, the affini are forced to show so much love and kindness that they prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that they really do care. they understand that behind every vicious word and lack of faith from their floret-to-be is a subtle hope that the world the affini promise is the real one. such a hope deserves nurturing at any cost; they deserve to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is really true. by assuming the worst case scenario, the affini prove the negative.

that's the real trans girl fantasy at play here; to be at your worst and for someone to love you anyway, to not have to feel like you're hiding some layer of your identity deep down that would ruin everything if it came out. your mistress saw the very core of your being and yet here you are, still wrapped in her loving embrace. you bared your teeth and gnashed at every helping hand along the way, and yet she still says she loves you. she still shows you love and affection beyond what you could have ever imagined. why?

and then at some point you just have to accept that it's true.

Can't wait to hear my (actual) Mothers voice..

"ItS jUsT a PhAsE, @queenpuppygoo CoRUpPtEd YoU"

Ohh yeee she did!

"My son turned out fine."

Ma'am, your daughter wants to be a floret.

Affini might not be real but florets sure are. You just have to find a suitably traumatized queer person and give them affection and they will literally beg you to put them on a leash

You can literally show any submissive trans girl the original human domestication guide contract and ask her "well petal?~" and she will visibly blush.

as much as the kink part of being florted is hot, it will never compare to the sheer fantasy of being taken care of without expectations. i keep fantasizing about it, the idea of being cared for and loved despite my disorders. that world where i can be taken in and helped, to have my owner wash me and cuddle me after, the absolute sensation that i will never have to worry about being abandoned again echoing in her biorythm. to finally feel safe enough to be weak, to be vulnerable and know that it wont get me hurt, to bare my soul to someone with the awareness that they will love what lies within.

to me being owned just means being loved for the simple reason of existing

I remember doing this to Mistress back in the long long ago, and wondered "why is she making all of those noises?"

Now I would think that's a warcrime.

PSA: Remember to give your florets regular oral inspections, it's for their health!

"Enough to ignore what you want, and give you what you need"

I'm very intimidated by how much doing anything vaguely in control makes me feel very uncomfortable and unhappy.

I was rude to Momma at the store the other day because my old boy brain decided to try and control things due to my worry of not being helpful enough to her.

I'm so happy I have Mistress to help 🥰♥️

Devotion

(cw: hypnotic elements, feralbreaking)

I scowled at the affini, trying again to yank my hands out of the leather and rope bindings. No good; they were firmly attached to the O-ring on the ceiling, a thick line connecting from that down to my outstretched wrists. I couldn't move from the spot, as there was a similar setup keeping my feet in place as well.

"What, that all you got? Going to tire me out from standing all day and hope I'll break?" I rolled my eyes and growled, "I'll never break."

"Perhaps you would, or perhaps not." The affini smiled, resting her head in her palm as she watched my struggling. "Fortunate for you that this is merely the beginning of what I have in mind, then."

Next came a metal rod that spread my ankles wide, cold to the touch and jangling with every kick I attempted.

"But not just to break you."

Then came her claws, cleanly and efficiently tearing through cloth as easily as air. I shivered as the air hit skin, and felt my face warm as she stopped once more to gaze at me.

"I want to show you how it feels to love me."

Yet still, she wasn't done.

A pair of strange cups that attached to my nipples.

A strange harness of rope, worn around my waist and thighs. A strange tool was attached, the tennis ball-sized head pressed directly against my...well.

A blindfold, leather on one side and soft smooth fabric on the other, cutting off any trace of light as it perfectly sat on my face.

Several injections from her vines, each one a slight prick of pain.

And finally...a thick pair of headphones, snuggly covering my ears.

There was a soft *click*, and then her voice came through.

"Now I have you where I want you. Well....almost. In a moment, I am going to leave you, but I will be turning on a few of the devices. You'll figure out the rest soon enough."

"I...what?" I was rewarded for my question with a stinging pinch on my nipples, causing me to suck in air through clenched teeth.

"That stung!" Another pinch, sharper this time.

"Welcome, petal. Are you ready for your maintenance?"

I stayed silent.

"Good! Why don't we get started, then.

"Your name is toy."

I clenched my teeth and hissed, "Fuck you."

Pinch. "Your name is toy."

I scowled. It pinched me again when I didn't respond.

"Your name is toy."

"Go fuck yourse-OW!" It was much harder this time, enough to have me twist in pain. The drugs she had given me had only multiplied my sensitivity, and even these pinches were already driving me insane.

"Your name is toy." Pinch.

"Your name is toy." Pinch.

"Your name is toy." Twist.

"ALL RIGHT, FINE!" I bellowed out, unable to keep going. Anything to stop the pain.

Silence for a beat, a moment. Then, "Your name is toy."

"My..." I swallowed, wishing I was anywhere but here. I breathed, "My name is...toy."

"Good toy." The vibrator increased in intensity, pulses of pure pleasure spiking up my spine and knocking the breath out of me in whimpers and whines. It felt too good, it felt too good.

The burst continued for a few more seconds, then lowered to a barely more reasonable level. I thrashed, trying to escape, trying to do anything, but-

"Your full name is toy Lysilla, Third Floret."

I felt it. I felt the urge to just agree. I didn't want to feel the pain again. I knew it wouldn't stop until I gave in, now.

I still remained silent.

The next pinch on my nipples tore a white-hot scream from my lips, the searing pain causing my legs to give out, hanging limply from my wrists.

"Your full name is toy Lysilla, Third Floret."

"My f-full name...oh, god...my full name is toy Lysilla, Third...Floret." I felt pinpricks of tears soak into the fabric of the blindfold at the words. I almost didn't realize I was saying them.

"Good toy."

The pleasure rushed back in a flood, the pinching and twisting on my nipples changing to soft kisses of cool soothing harmony. I moaned before I could stop myself.

"You are a toy." Why did her voice have to sound so...so nice?

"I'm a toy."

"Good toy. you are my toy." Why was she even doing this? I had nothing to tell her, nothing to offer.

"i am your toy." Fuck, I could feel my control slipping. I needed to...i needed...

"Good toy. A Good toy obeys."

"A Good toy obeys." i needed more. Stars help me, but i needed more pleasure. It felt far better than it had any right to be. my hips moved on their own, thrusting in time with the pulses.

"Good toy. A Good toy relaxes."

"A g...a....goodtoyrelaaxxx..."

"Good toy. A Good toy sinks deeper."

My mouth stopped moving, but I repeated the words in my head, and in doing so they were real. I sank like a stone, deeper and deeper down.

"Good toy. A Good toy loves its Owner."

A Good toy loves its Owner.

i felt it. i felt my heart leap at the idea of Her. Of Her smile. Of her voice. She was...She was everything.

"Good toy. A Good toy feels its love build."

It did. It grew and grew, swelling like a symphony, rising like a sunrise, Growing like an old oak tree. i needed more. Love was obedience and obedience was submission and submission was pleasure and i needed more, and so i loved Her more. my pleasure was my passion for Her.

"Good toy. A Good toy is molded to My will."

i loved to be molded by Her. How did She already know? She was just that Good. Good enough for a Good toy to love, which i did with the utmost fervor.

"Good toy. A Good toy..."

---

The headphones came off first. The harness second, and the nipple patches third.

She saved the blindfold for last. "Hello, toy."

i stared at her as one did a Goddess, as one did after seeing daylight after decades of darkness. my love for Her had blossomed, just as She had intended. She wanted it, and so it was. And it was Good.

"i love you, Miss Lysilla."

"Of course you do~" She leaned down, taking my head in her palms. i nuzzled into them contentedly.

"And toy? I want you to know that I love you too, for always and forever. More than anyone and anything else in the universe and beyond...

"Enough to ignore what you want, and give you what you need."

I love how putting on the smallest amount of moisturiser was more self care than I did combined in the last like 1.5years of my life

I was really ill! Figuring that out as time goes on and I think I need to keep letting people help.

"b-b-but it's only clarifyi-"

Thanks for letting me know your opinion is dog shit and that I don't have to trust anything that comes out of your dumb mouth

To my uk trans people and allies out there.