Vou mostrando como sou E vou sendo como posso Jogando meu corpo no mundo Andando por todos os cantos E pela lei natural dos encontros Eu deixo e recebo um tanto E passo aos olhos nus Ou vestidos de lunetas Passado, presente Participo sendo o mistério do planeta O tríplice mistério do stop Que eu passo por e sendo ele No que fica em cada um No que sigo o meu caminho E no ar que fez, que assistiu Abra um parênteses Não esqueça que independente disso Eu não passo de um malandro De um moleque do Brasil Que peço e dou esmolas Mas ando e penso sempre com mais de um Por isso ninguém vê minha sacola
Do cis women who are mtf chasers exist? Is that really a thing as I've seen some on this board claim? There is a near total lack of online evidence to support that claim
>starting to get feelings for the tranny prostitute I see twice a month I have done lots of pathetic things in my life, but developing feelings for a literal whore is next level. Wow
My big brother wants to troon out, I found his girl clothes. >26 and no job or degree >showers once a week >dresses in ugly clothes with no style >long greasy hair >no partner or friends >no hobbies aside from Warhammer, gaming and playing the guitar >autism-lite, or something like that How can I help him? I feel like he's just gonna hurt himself.
There's a tgirl I talk to on discord who responds to me somewhat infrequently and sometimes I scroll through our old messages and I'll cry a little. I don't know what that says about me.
There’s just something about a delicate, feminine princess boy who’s fully embraced his role as a helpless little plaything for real men. The way he purposely softens his voice, keeps his body smooth and hairless, and dresses in clothes that cling to his fragile frame, like he’s begging to be treated like the expensive, spoiled brat he is.
He doesn’t want to be a man. He wants to be something prettier, something weaker, something that exists purely for the pleasure of bigger, stronger, richer men. He’ll giggle at their jokes, bat his eyelashes, and melt into their arms like the pampered pet he is. And when they pay for his drinks, his clothes, his entire life? Oh, he loves it. Because deep down, he knows the truth: he’s not built to provide, he’s built to be provided for.
And the best part? He enjoys his own humiliation. The way he blushes when called "princess," the way he moans when a real man reminds him he’ll never be anything but a bottom, the way he preens when he’s treated like a kept boy who doesn’t have to worry about a thing and becomes a girl for a bigger, stronger provider.
Nothing compares to watching a princess boy willingly strip away his last shreds of masculinity, letting me dress her in silks and lace, whispering 'thank you' when I hand the waiter my card instead of his, or best of all, when he tears up his résumé to become my full-time pet. The moment he trades his pride for purpose is the moment he becomes truly beautiful
i just drink like a gallon of milk a day to grow my tits i dont have any lactose intolerance issues(im white, northern european blue eyed white) so i just drink a lot of milk, and it has fat and nutrients and protein, and it helps my tits grow big, its very yummy
