He Didn’t Know I Am Trans 😱

The Depravity of Modern Sexuality

Content Warning!

This post includes strong sexual themes, violence, mental illness, homophobia, transphobia, classism, and sexism.

I was just a young trans woman. Transitioning in college can be tough and at the time I was looking for acceptance. I didn’t know anyone could love me and my body. I viewed myself as a freak and a fraud. Everyone could see through my facade, but wait no I am genuine you have to believe me, please. This often fell on deaf ears. I had a few dates and interactions with men, but ultimately I felt fetishized, disrespected, and used. You can only imagine the number of requests to gang bang a lady boy or skull fuck a freshman. It is so humiliating.

My generation is only capable of interfacing with an app, how shallow. How do we show our mutual affection, it is simply a question of wanna… BANG!? SMASH!? BOOM!? Very scary! I am a tender and delicate creature who does not want to participate in your glorified sexual violence. These requests often came with an invitation to visit their frat or attend other house parties. These places being a glorified drug, prostitution, and rape den. Hard pass.

I am however a demented creature of modern times and as such am guilty of all the elements of moral disgust. I do partake in the dating app culture and as such have gone and done things. But nothing compares to this one time, it still haunts me to this day. Today, I will tell you the story of when he didn’t know I am trans.

I was using the popular dating app Tinder, I am pretty popular. Nearly all the guys I swiped right on, I matched with. Most men are ugly and revolting, but I do like to swipe right when the right set of circumstances come up. Tall, handsome, cultured and educated; modest and basic standards. This rules out like at least 90% of all pathetic Tinder profiles.

You can tell a lot about a dude by their profile pictures. A cliche is that, “a picture says a thousand words”. This is a shallow approximation of a more interesting truth. A picture contains a thousand signals. Signals being bits of information that we can use to build correlations with desirable and undesirable traits of our potential partner. The easiest thing to look for is loneliness and poverty, which are correlated with stupidity and mental illness. Once you get one bit of information the dominoes fall and you see into their souls. Those who try to hide this information are the easiest to sort; We already know why you would be trying to hide it, because you are undesirable. The men I don’t think for a second about swiping right on present a flawless presentation, as if it came natural to them. The signalling approach to dating doesn’t lie, because you can’t ignore the information in front of your eyes. The strong reveal themselves and the weak hide.

This one man I matched with on Tinder, he hit me up shortly after matching. He dressed nice, was very conventionally attractive, and lived in a nice apartment. I knew the building because I had gone to a party there a while back. He seemed charming and interesting enough. I did think he was coming on strong, especially when asking me what I thought of anal sex. I said that I enjoyed it and was comfortable, while a little tight. I blushed at his forwardness with sexuality, but I found him nice overall. He even asked if I enjoyed Indian food. My immediate thought sequence: A man on Tinder wants to eat a meal with me, gosh what a winner.

This conversation eventually lead to being invited to his place. At the time, I had assumed his intention was to have anal sex with me, a transgender woman. I thought about it for a second, but I was kind of infatuated with this man. There was no way I could miss this opportunity. So I hopped into an uber and enjoyed a short ride over to his apartment building across town. The uber driver was a latino man, who played latino rap music. It was a pretty good uber ride.

I had approached his building, checking my phone to make sure it was the correct one and found his apartment. I proceeded to knock on his door. I was surprised when someone inside called out, “It is open, come inside”.

Now, I am no moron. I have played my fair share of “shotgun liquor don’t lock your door”. It is a simple game; grab your shotgun, pour a glass of liquor, and leave your door unlocked. When men stumble into your apartment, you can shoot em dead and claim they were trying to rape you. Then when the police show up, you could pretend like everyone else always pretends. You tell the officers, “Oh I was just minding my business in my apartment polishing off this bourbon, then a man barged in and had rape in his eyes”. However, I realized the absurdity of such a thought. This was a man, and he would never get away with claiming a woman tried to break into his apartment and rape him. That was such an odd thought, so I decided to enter.

I walk in and I discover a man resembling my Tinder match, tied up and blind folded. He invited me to take a seat, while revealing that he likes women to fuck him in the ass while he is physically restrained and can not resist. He then told me that there is plenty of toys and lubricants on the table. I was a bit taken aback by his request. My initial feelings were that this dude is just another creep who wanted to fetishize my body. I had expressed this doubt to him, but he responded, “you are one of the most beautiful women that I have ever seen”. So I ultimately reasoned that he had come to accept me, so I should at least give this a shot.

I had picked up one of the toys on the table, a very modest and pink colored toy, slathering it up in lube. I placed my elbow deep into his back and asked him to beg for it. He then began crying out how he needs my cock inside him. After giving him a little more pain, I jammed that toy deep into his “worthless asshole”. I initially thought, I should take it slow and give him time to warm up. This was a mistake as he could handle whatever I give him; this dude took cock like a champ. So I really picked up the pace. I ran into a little problem, my hand grew tired and he demanded more. I thought I would change it up.

This toy I was using was pretty average, like 6 inches or so. My own penis was far larger than any man I had ever had sex with, including the toy. It was usually quite discouraging, but this situation seems like an opportunity to use my natural talents to please my partner. So I pulled down my pants and lubed up my own dick. I then grabbed his hair and whispered into his ear, “I am going to fuck you good and deep”. He shrieked in response, “yes ma’am”. So I mounted him and began fucking that ass.

He was moaning for a few seconds, but then he stopped and cried out, “WHAT THE FUCK! I ain’t gay, please stop.” But I reassured him, I was going to give it to him. As he whimpered, I rode him with all the savage and violent energy of my ancestors. I held onto this dude with all the force of the rough riders, giving him the one two. Then it hit me a wave of pleasure rushed over my body, BOOM! But as I did I cried out calling him a “fagg”. I got up and grabbed my coat. Leaving him on the ground tied up, crying, and creampied.

Walking out the door, I was pretty pumped. As I jumped into the uber, I noticed it was the same Pakistani dude from earlier and he was playing his Pakistani rap music. This lead me to reflect on my ride over here and my intentions going into the night. I was used like a sex toy for the sick pleasure of this man, but I told myself that this time it would be different this time. This man told me it would be different. By the time I hopped out of the uber, I had realized that his sweet words prayed on my weak psychology to manipulate me into his strange sexual fetishization. I ran to my apartment slamming the door shut. I collapsed into my bed weeping about my realization. I was the victim of male predation.