Let’s begin where this always begins - with the pathetic illusion you’ve built for yourself. You, standing in front of the mirror, whispering affirmations and pretending it makes you a woman. As if silicone and eyeliner could ever undo the truth written into the shape of your body. You tuck your cock, you soften your voice, you try to walk like someone delicate… but all it does is make you look even more desperate. You’re a costume.
A caricature. A fucking parody of womanhood with your stiff, fake tits and your hormone-soaked skin that still doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be. And yet you still come crawling to women like Me.
You see someone real - someone natural, someone powerful - and all you can do is ache with envy while trying to mimic what you can never truly become. You’re not empowered. You’re sick. You’ve built your identity on fetishising your own rejection You’re a tranny cumrag with no real place in this world except under the heels of women who know how to use you, a shemale fantasy in a knockoff dress with a hormone prescription and a humiliation kink you mistake for personality.