Forcemasc - Tumblr Posts
Transsexuals are closer to God than any others. We partake in the creation of man, just as he.
We are gods, self made gods who deserve to be worshipped.
Cis people hate us because they envy us. We're something they can never be. A state of being they can never reach, but they want for it, and their want turns to hatred. They want to be close to God, and they envy us for our proximity.
my partner was making image edits and i told them to try making a forcemasc one and they sent me this
Imagine getting to know a bunch of older men and they invite you out to their favorite dive bar to officially induct you into their little friend group. They're a little more old-school: a mix of leather daddies, bears, and generally hairy, burly, masculine guys, but they love having you around even if you don't fit their usual model of attraction. It doesn't matter to them that you're a dyke; you're just friends, after all. And you love how they don't hold anything back with you; they make you feel accepted, just like one of the guys, clapping you on the shoulder, making raunchy jokes with you, getting you nice and tipsy off whiskey and beer.
You're having a great time, shooting some pool with your new friends, until you bend all the way over to line up your shot... and a couple of them quickly step up on either side of you, pull the pool cue out of your hands, and pin your wrists against the soft green felt. That warm haze from the liquor is instantly replaced with cold fear as you start to struggle, to panic, but you're no match for their thick, hairy arms as they hold you firmly in place. You feel someone else step up behind you, their strong hands on your hips, pushing you up against the table so you have nowhere to go. Your voice fails you as all you can do is stammer and look up at their grinning faces, silently pleading with them, holding onto some slim hope that maybe this is just a prank. Your thrashing starts to grow weaker as you realize with horror that they planned this, that every eye in the bar is now quietly watching you, waiting to see what will happen next, and you understand that they're not going to be convinced... there's only one way out of this for you.
The man behind you bends down over you and purrs in your ear. "Shh-shh-shh... hey, don't worry about it, man... we do this to all the guys sooner or later... it's just our fun little rite of passage. You do want to be one of the guys, don't you? We've all been really looking forward to it... it's rare for us to get along so well with someone who has a cunt, and all the boys are super excited to get to feel it."
You feel his hands reach around and start to unbutton your jeans, and you want to scream, to kick, to bellow and plead, but instead, like a deer in the headlights, you freeze. There's too much adrenaline rushing through you, those big, beefy arms holding you down are just too powerful... ultimately, you're just a helpless piece of meat for them, with no choice but to take whatever they give you.
He pulls your jeans and boxers all the way down at once, and lets out a whistle at what he sees. He grips one of your ass cheeks in each hand and takes his thumbs and uses them to spread your hairy cunt for them all to marvel at. It's embarrassing, humiliating, degrading, and what's even worse (better?) is the way they act, keeping up that jovial atmosphere, cracking jokes without a trace of cruelty in their voices. It's fucking with your head... you should be feeling violated, disgusted, traumatized, but there's a part of you deep down that feels a twinge of pride... they're talking about you like you're nothing more than a communal toy, a prized possession, their favorite little masturbation tool, as opposed to a helpless dyke who's about to be gang raped. You want to push those thoughts away, but they keep coming back to you: you're going to make your new friends feel so good...
When you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling behind you, and that fear starts to mix with unwanted arousal, he lets out a little chuckle at your involuntary whimper. "Look at that... you're wet already. I might not even have to use lube..." You burn with embarrassment as you feel his fat cock tumble out and land on your ass, and you realize that he's right... you're getting soaked, and knowing that his rapidly swelling member is going to be stretching you out in a matter of seconds is only turning you on further.
When his tip nestles in between your lips and starts to press forward, and you let out a yelp as your wrists and hips futilely thrash around, you realize you're not fighting back as hard as you used to. You're putting on a performance for them as much as you are for yourself... you don't want to admit how much you like it, but you also want to make sure your new guy friends are getting as much enjoyment as possible out of their brand new toy... and it's only a matter of time before you can't hide the telltale signs of arousal, or hold back the moans in your throat that so desperately want to break free...
When he starts fucking into you, grabbing you by the hips and sliding in and out of your swollen cunt, there's no savage or animalistic character to his thrusting: he really is just using your body to jack off, to release all his pent up stress, pumping into you rhythmically as he grunts, until he finally presses himself balls deep inside you and lets out an erratic groan as you feel him twitch, and feel the unmistakable flood of warmth inside you. He lets out a loud sigh and pulls out as your cunt attempts to clench around him and pull him back in, and you feel his hot cum drip out of you and onto your boxers where they lay between your ankles.
After he catches his breath, he gives your ass a playful smack. "Daaamn, he's tight... you fellas gotta try this, pussy feels totally different." He looks down at the mess he made of you, and lets out a sheepish laugh as you lay there, panting, your head spinning, that pleasurable aching sensation pulsing in your cunt, as you try to mentally and physically prepare yourself for what's still to come. "Well, I'd been planning on having us all pull out, but fuck, I just couldn't help myself... I guess it doesn't matter now, does it? Who wants next?"
I've kept this ask in my askbox for so long because, honestly, I think it might be my new favorite orientation play post/fantasy. There's so many layers to this that I honestly really love.
Part of what I love so much of it is how much of the boundary breaking is just so subtle and easy to forgive or overlook, at least in the beginning. They're older gay guys, so even if they smack my ass or joke about getting me to suck them off, it doesn't really phase me. They do that with each other all the time, and they're very understanding when I explain that I'm a butch lesbian. It feels good to be included with them-- I look up to them, admire them for being community elders, ask them for advice about leather and kink and relationships.
I can imagine how the plan starts to form, slowly. One of them gets it out of me that I like to bottom, teasing me and noting the way I get flushed when I explain that I've got a thing for other butches. They encourage me to go on T, coach me through it when I complain about how horny it's making me. A few even ask me about my clit, under the pretense of just learning more about the effects of the HRT, and no matter how much I squirm I answer their questions. After all, we're just trying to be open with one another, and maybe some of their questions are invasive... but we're all friends, right?
Slowly they start working me up to taking me to the bar. Using more masculine terms to refer to me, wheedling it out of me that I like being called a good boy in bed. Coaxing me into the men's room with them when we go out, promising to cover me if things go bad, sharing subtle glances and grins with one another when I come out of the stall and walk past the urinals, blushing. I like to imagine the private group chats, the hushed conversations, the low whispers. There's no malice in it. They're my friends. They wouldn't be doing this if they didn't like me. But at the end of the day, they're experienced enough to know a boy who needs an introduction to good, raw, cock when they see one-- no matter how much he cries about being a dyke.
Once the door shuts behind me in that bar, it's all over, even if I don't know it yet. Everyone there's been specially invited. The door locks, the bartender eyes me with a friendly yet secretive smile. There's a sense of anticipation in the air, even if I can't tell, every man in the room imagining what it will be like to get a taste of cunt from me.
By the time I'm bent over the pool table, jeans and boxers around my ankles and stained with cum, it's already over for me. My cunt is sore and aching, the crowd around me a blur of noise and motion as the first man who fucked me shows off the goods to the guys around him. I can barely listen, over my own drunken shame and arousal, only catching brief snippets-- how I'm such a good fuck, how tight my cunt is, how the pictures of my cunt stretched out around his cock look (pictures? they took pictures?), and hey I want to be a good boy for everyone, right?
After that first man, like you described, I can only imagine how the rest of the rape would go. Maybe this is something they do with everyone, or maybe that's just a lie they tell me to try and calm me down. I love the way it'd be a little bit different for each man. Some of the bears might be more gentle, rubbing my back or stomach to soothe me as I sob from the pain of their fat cocks splitting me open. Others might be more rough, pinning me against a wall or bouncing me on their lap as their balls slap against my clit, surrounding me in strong, soft flesh and hair and musk, grunting in my ear about how long they've been waiting for this, and doesn't it feel good to take it like a man?
The leather daddies could tie me up, collar me, leash me. Grind the sole of their boot into my fucked out cunt, laughing at the way I spill cum all over myself as my hips twitch and hump against them. They pour shots into my mouth every time I bark like a dog, forcing their hands and fingers down my throat to make sure I swallow. One steadily fucks my cunt as another teaches me how to take his cock down my throat. Every time I try to pull back my ass is slapped, and in the end it's sore and aching too.
Every man wants something different from my body, and in the end I'm powerless to stop them. But there's two constants-- the first being that they never fuck my ass. Even at the height of the gangrape, when they're trying to see if they can get two cocks up my cunt at once, my ass remains largely untouched except for a few fingers here and there. Maybe they had some sort of unspoken agreement, or maybe they were just all so eager to see my cunt twitch and break around them that they had no interest in it. The other is that, despite the depravity, they're all encouraging. Oh, they make fun of me for the things I'm willing to do, humiliate me for my actions. But there's praise in equal turns-- for how good I'm being, that this is what I needed, that I'm doing them a favor and my cunt feels so good.
By the end of the night, I'm fully broken. It doesn't make sense anymore. I am-- was? -- a butch dyke, but as I am carried back to the car to be driven home, I can't help but think that maybe they're right. After a night spent cumming on the cocks of all the men present at the bar, it doesn't seem like a good idea to go back to being a dyke anymore. After all, my new friends seemed to love giving me all the attention.
The next day I awake in my own bed, jeans half pulled up my legs, my boots discarded on the floor, topless. I shift and realize that my boxers are gone. I scramble for my phone and find a text message-- the first man who raped me's cock wrapped around my torn rainbow boxers, stained with cum.
"Hope you had a good time. Boys and I are planning an encore next week. I'll pick you up."
I can't bring myself to respond. But when his truck pulls up in front of the house next week, I slink out and climb into the cab, refusing to meet his eyes. He just laughs, and gropes me through my jeans as he makes a call.
"Yeah, he's coming. Nah, we don't need condoms. Don't worry-- I'm sure his cunt will be just as tight as it was last time."
Force masc and all that shit, but it's me trying to genuinely get you to take care of your car.
metaltango or something idk
its rlly funny that the current crop of content for forcemasc is either inspiring but rather erotically void motivational posters, or just saying "be gross and disgusting and violent" like thats what men are supposed to be.
the real sensual appeal of forcemasc, to me, is someone grabbing you by the hair, looking you in the eyes, and saying "I know what you are. And I'm going to drag it out of you. And you're going to love every second of it."
it's having someone not only affirm your internal view of yourself, but demanding it be brought to fruition at their hands. Someone who's completely uninterested in the girl-shaped shell you've been living inside of, and wants to extricate you, raw and wanting, from inside of it. They want to mold you like clay in the image of a strong, confident, beast that knows how to obey.
it's having your body examined and sized up, being praised for how far you've come and getting punished for backsliding. it's getting called a 'good boy' every time you take your shot straight-faced. it's tussling in the backyard and getting that little smile when you stand back up instead of tapping out. it's building your tolerance, your confidence, layer by layer until that shy, scared little girl inside of you that people forced you to be is gone, and all that remains is a very, very good boy.
Harlan Ellison sfw forcemasc, hid under the cut because of violent language, partial (upper body) nudity, insults (to your writing), honestly, just take Harlan himself as a warning.
PLEEEEEEASE
Forcemasc but make it 80s alt, long messy black hair, tattoos over top surgery scars, clothes that haven't been changed in days, too busy smoking and messing around with the band to care about appearances. Give me crusty black eyeliner and band tees with cut off sleeves to show of the work that's been put in at the gym
is someone gonna make jackass forcemasc or am i gonna have to be the one to do it
baby's first forcemase post be NICE
pumping a tguy’s cock for them so you can truly see just how big they can get <3 taking it into your mouth after and watch how much they struggle not to cum
do you know how much i’d die for this?
As your cool older friend It’s my job to make sure that you’re fit to run with my crew. We wear muscle tanks over binders, baggy jeans, workman’s boots with hardware, and we stand tall and hold ourselves with swagger.
We go to grimy concerts and bump against each other in the pits, we hit up the parking lot at the 7/11 and fuck around like the nuisances we are, and we watch shitty movies, more focused on laughing about dicks and tits than anything else.
And when you’re feeling inexplicably hot and needy I’ll be right there by your side to help you out, make you feel good. I don’t do this with the rest of the boys, you’re the exception.
You’re a man now. My brother, my boy, my soldier. Doesn’t it feel better to hang with the cool kids now?
I like that clumsy, intrusive way trans men like to show off their masculinity while it's novel to them and they're absolutely gorging themselves on being observed as male. Like when they swear really loud and enunciate absolute filth, oh i love to fuck, i love my cock, i love eating boy cunt. Like that way they sit with their legs spread, hunched over resting their elbows and looking around all sleazily. Like when they go into detail about a really mundane story but they're so enthusiastic, like essentially he got his car stuck but he really wants you to know he drives a standard so he's talking about how he SLAMMED into THIRD GEAR and boogied out of there. Forget about when they start working out and try to pick you up and arm wrestle every three seconds, like ohh lord...
Injecting a fellow trans man with T is equivalent to very intimate sex. His trust in you to penetrate and fill his body is sacred. Do you understand?
btw the whole point of forcemasc, autoandrophilia, etc., is to reclaim our sexuality as trans individuals because we are so heavily sexualized by society (applies much more to transfems btw) that it is easy to forget to celebrate the sexiness of it all.
"Omg ur a boy with a pussy? Thats soo hot" coming from some cis dude on grindr -> ew
"I celebrate the transition you are going through in every step, the happier you are in your body the more attractive you get to me, in fact I like it so much we can play that I am forcing you to do it, the world is against us enough as it is so a playful force in contrast to that is both liberating and an extreme turn on. Let's not try to appeal to cis people by not fitting into their narrative, lets say: EVEN SO, WHAT IF?? " -> my dick is so hard already bro please
Hi I'm Eli I'm a trans boy and I'm 18. I'm really only into men.
I'm a sub exclusively and I'm part puppy and part little and I am slowly getting into feedism but I don't want to gain significantly, I just like feeling full
I like dms but I want more than just one and done stuff
Hi I'm Eli I'm a trans boy and I'm 18. I'm really only into men.
I'm a sub exclusively and I'm part puppy and part little and I am slowly getting into feedism but I don't want to gain significantly, I just like feeling full
I like dms but I want more than just one and done stuff