BigJimsWornOutTires
Kraken
- Joined
- Feb 6, 2021
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I tend to spoil endings. It's a personality disorder. I can't help it.
So the story I'm working on is about a transgender girl struggling in uni. But she's not the kind that insists on using women's restrooms. She favors men's bathrooms because of all those cocks. Ugh. She's known to latch her stall and when a guy uses the adjacent urinal, she'll stand on the toilet with a phone and slide it over the stall roof recording the scene below. So she's a typical college girl, as you can see.
But one day a peculiarity of fellowship bumbled into her life. A dog — a male dog. She gives him a home. But something was off with her new friend. He would sniff her high heels and women's panties. And he didn't pee with a leg up but instead, a squat! She knew right there the male dog was also a transgender female.
So together, they team up to face life's struggles living as trannies. They eventually fall in love. But ugh, spoilers - tragedy comes like a leech on a ballsack after dipping in a retention pond near a homeless encampment. They both die suddenly from a Syrian earthquake.
The End.
As you can see, work in progress. So I've to stretch that rough draft into 800 pages. A big book. I want the young tranny to read every—single—word. I want him/her/it/thing to feel it's over. It will never get better — it will never happen. And during the upcoming apocalypse, when stores/grocers are abandoned and cops become the thugs, military of a medley of polities trekking the air, streets, woods, and mountains, trust me, that tranny shit you'll want to hide. Or unless the thug enjoys loose assholes. But if you're a woman, boiling in jealousy over men and carrying rancor against your father, it'll be best to look like a woman. Boys don't cry in that reality.
So the story I'm working on is about a transgender girl struggling in uni. But she's not the kind that insists on using women's restrooms. She favors men's bathrooms because of all those cocks. Ugh. She's known to latch her stall and when a guy uses the adjacent urinal, she'll stand on the toilet with a phone and slide it over the stall roof recording the scene below. So she's a typical college girl, as you can see.
But one day a peculiarity of fellowship bumbled into her life. A dog — a male dog. She gives him a home. But something was off with her new friend. He would sniff her high heels and women's panties. And he didn't pee with a leg up but instead, a squat! She knew right there the male dog was also a transgender female.
So together, they team up to face life's struggles living as trannies. They eventually fall in love. But ugh, spoilers - tragedy comes like a leech on a ballsack after dipping in a retention pond near a homeless encampment. They both die suddenly from a Syrian earthquake.
The End.
As you can see, work in progress. So I've to stretch that rough draft into 800 pages. A big book. I want the young tranny to read every—single—word. I want him/her/it/thing to feel it's over. It will never get better — it will never happen. And during the upcoming apocalypse, when stores/grocers are abandoned and cops become the thugs, military of a medley of polities trekking the air, streets, woods, and mountains, trust me, that tranny shit you'll want to hide. Or unless the thug enjoys loose assholes. But if you're a woman, boiling in jealousy over men and carrying rancor against your father, it'll be best to look like a woman. Boys don't cry in that reality.
