Tell Me I'm Worthless(30)

She found herself, without thinking, putting her hand around this girl’s throat, tracing images on her face with her mind. She could feel her nerve endings growing with each thrust, extending like the roots of a tree out into the cock. It was painful at first but then, with a jolt, there was the pleasure, sharp and clear in her lower half. She had a cock, and the cock had always been there. She could even feel the girl, tight and wet, all around her cock, despite its artificiality. Ila looked down at the girl, and her face changed, into a different face, her eyes into different eyes, the room they were in morphed, the walls fell away to reveal the bloody flesh underneath, and—

Without warning, the girl pushed her off violently, screaming, and she jumped back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” said the girl after she’d stopped screaming. Her blonde hair was plastered to her face. She was on her knees on the bed but backing away fast.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ila.

The girl had gotten to the edge of the bed. She jumped off and ran to the other side of the room, panting. Ila was still kneeling there on her sheets, her cock wiggling slightly, back and forth in the air. That connection she had felt to it was gone, like it had simply never been there at all.

The girl looked like she was going to be sick. She touched her neck, like Ila had choked her properly. There are ways of choking during sex, and there are ways of choking that mean you want someone hurt. The girl’s neck was bright red.

“You fucking,” she spoke with difficulty, between breaths, “you called me a… why the fuck would you even do that? You’re sick.”

“I don’t know what I said!” Ila truly didn’t. She didn’t remember saying anything at all.

“You called me a tranny. What the fuck. I’m not even trans. What the fuck, Ila.”

Ila’s trauma has repeated many times over. Or, more accurately, Ila has repeated her trauma. There had been traumas within her before the House had come along and consumed them, but ever since, what happened in the red beating heart of the House had been the focus of all of her fixations. In the fantasies, which were almost identical to the memories that she had, she had always been underneath, with Alice pulling her legs apart, looming over her with the light behind her head. Like a halo. Her face all bathed in red, red in her eyes, red dripping from her mouth. That is what the memories always were. Sometimes, while masturbating, her thoughts turned to them too, and they became fantasies without her wanting them to. In those, as well, it was always the same. Alice on top, pushing into her, her whole body prone and ready to be manipulated. But now she realised, with horror, that she had switched it. She had been on top. In the confusing haze of please, Alice had been there, beneath her, instead of the woman who was now standing terrified against her bedroom wall. She’d been thinking about pushing into Alice’s helpless being. She’d called her a tranny.

This had never happened. She hadn’t raped Alice, she was certain of that. She was as sure as anything that she had been the victim and was the survivor, but now, fuck, the girl was getting dressed, grabbing her clothes from the places they had been thrown in the wild fucking passion that seemed so impossible now. She stormed from Ila’s place, not looking back. Ila ran after her, completely forgetting that she was still completely naked apart from the ribbon around her waist and the strap-on. She ran down the hallway frantically, and was halfway to the front door, which had just slammed behind the girl, when she realised. Ila turned back to her bedroom, sadly. She pulled the ribbon away and looked at her naked body in the mirror, the big black cock still covering her cunt. They had sold out of realistic brown cocks at the shop and she had thought well this isn’t so bad, is it, and paid sheepishly. But it looked all wrong there, in the mirror. ARBEIT MACHT FREI carved into her stomach and then, just underneath it, a big cock, still slick with the wetness of another person. All over Ila’s limbs were pale scars, some of which looked like undiscernible words or images, some of which were just business-like cuts. Her legs were unshaven. Her armpits were growing good and dark like roses. Her pubic hair was ripe too, it looked like the cock was growing hair around its base.

The cock started to go flaccid before her eyes. No it didn’t, of course it didn’t. It was made of silicone, and silicone did not go flaccid. It is not part of her. It’s a tool. She unstrapped it and let it fall onto the carpet with a dull thud. It was still wet and sticky, and gathered fibres there.

Now here she is, posting on Mumsnet, pretending to be the mother of a little girl who wants to be a boy. When I was little she writes I used to be a tomboy too I would always much rather be down the bottom of the garden playing with worms than watching princess films but now her school must have told her about trans and she wants to mutilate herself she doesn’t even have breasts but she already wants them gone… there’s a teacher who is a trans identified male at her school could this be down to him?

Ila never posts as herself on this website, because she’s not a mother. But she likes the attention and affirmation she gets from everyone on there, even if the stories she tells are completely fictional.

Same says a reply to her fiction and I would be wary of the TIM teacher. TIM’s are predisposed to being paedophiles you know.

You can’t say that! says another user. Come on we’re all here to be rational you can’t go around just making things up like that.

Sorry replies the one who accused transwomen of being paedophiles I’m just saying the truth we all know it though don’t we come on it’s the truth.