A Femboy's Trap

It's the fear in their eyes that really does it for me. Sure, there are a lot of aspects I like about it, and the fear may even be the 2nd most enjoyable thing really, but it's that spark, that rhyme, that reason that keeps me from stopping. That keeps me doing it, again and again. The thing that had me take classes on acting and makeup artistry, on fashion, that had me lean into specific diets and work out routines for a particular body, that made me take the time to shave off all my body hair semi-daily and save up for laser hair removal solely to make that part easier on my time management.

It all happened as an accident at first, and a horribly traumatic one at that.

Someone mistook me for a girl.

That should have been fine, it should never have progressed to the finishing stages. I wasn't hiding, I wasn't pretending, I was wearing normal clothes, speaking in my normal voice.

I thought they knew.

They didn't.

They got violent.

Do you know what that does to a person? To have someone you think you love and care for, that has been with you for, at that time, weeks suddenly do a 180 when you're about to get into bed together? To suddenly worry they are going to attack you as you see their heart break like you're the one that betrayed them?

And then came the Lingering. The explanations, the resentment, the anger. The boiling frustrations, the yelling. "How can you be a guy?!" "How can you be this fucking blind?!"

It was a golden lesson really. Simple. I was, possibly still am, stupid. How could I not have realized he didn't know? How could he not have? It was an obvious thing to me but I should have realized it. There were signs. There was evidence. It irked at me, like a piece of glass after the fallout, stuck right near my heart. I had led to this, caused this, did this. All because I was just too stupid. Maybe it was the love, making me ignore it, making me slightly change how I talk, never using anything like "he" around him. Making me never really have him interact with my friends or family. And I was willing to go all the way to sex that fast with this guy without us really knowing each other? I hated it. I hated myself, immensely.

So I learned, I studied. Sociology and psychology, always remembering that I was stupid and a novice. Doing my best not to fall into the trope and toxic mindset of a "first year psych student" or an "armchair psychologist." People study for decades and are still wrong about the human mind. I was not going to wrongly assume I could do better. But that wasn't the end of my studies. I studied myself, of course. My flaws, my mind, my habits and actions. I even went to therapy, and besides the emotional and psychological balm it was, especially after my trauma, having an expert guide you slightly on the path of self-examination and outward examination was worth its weight in gold.

But no mind exists in a greenhouse. You must be challenged, encounter new concepts, try new things. I debated online, I learned to tie knots, I took up trying to learn art, all to advance my mind. To grow as a human being.

It did wonders but it's so, so hard to grow from where you are initially. All the 'ram' in the world won't change your 'cpu'. End of the day, it is a long and hard process to become a smarter person, at base. I made mistakes. Many mistakes. It was a turbulent few years.

And then came the, the realization. About my own wants and desires. Perhaps it was a trap in its own way, right there. To know yourself so well, to think about yourself so much. It can make a man selfish. Self-indulgent. Erode empathy. Not that self-examination is necessarily a requirement to become what I have. Self-examination is not a detriment but I'd be a liar to say it hadn't contributed to my own psyche forming. In that inward deep dive, I realized another issue that had caused this. I had shied away from friends and family over the years. Not in any particular way. How many IRL friends do you have? How often have you seen your family in recent years, especially if you moved away from them? Did you know, for the average person, it's said that 90% of the time you spend with family is in your first 18 years? I love my parents but I can honestly say I see them maybe twice a year and that's more than many.

But the problems from a lack of true, human contact, can erode a person's sense of self. Especially after trauma. It's a form of solitary confinement really. Depression becomes so easy when left alone, let alone other, more subtle mentalities. And that's without the person in question having experienced a deep trauma related to others. A betrayal is a sharp pain to suffer from in silence.

I still have the scar.

It's small, tiny, but to see my blood spilled, even on "accident" from the one I loved... it has never left me, even after I got over them. It's just a slight cut on the wrist from when he shoved me off him. The funny thing about it, is that at first it didn't bother me. At all. It was only after years that it started to irk, to serve as a constant reminder, thee constant reminder, of it all. Like I couldn't escape my past. It wasn't the final push or anything, but it was definitely the bloody edge that I slipped off. It was a piece of the pile of my, hmm. My what is hard to say. My evil sounds too cliche. Maybe my darker impulses? Well, my indulging in my darker impulses, that's for sure.

I ramble. My brain always gets this way before and after. Taking in that deep breath, knowing what I'm going to do. Really thinking about it.

The first time was, hard doesn't begin to describe it. It was an absolute mess, in so many ways. I fled, heart beating out of my chest, terror coursing through my veins. Scared out of my mind, worried they were seconds away from catching me, from killing me.

Yet I loved it. Every step of the way, to start to finish. It felt like fitting a jigsaw piece into a perfect hole. Like finding that drug I knew could never leave me. Like my heart was whole again. I wondered then and wonder now what that says about me. When does a man become a monster? When it feels good? When he doesn't care about another person? I believe it's the callousness, really. A soldier can fight or die for his country, grow hard, rigid, even mentally break, and yet he will still protect. He will still hug his grandchildren and love his wife. Still care, through all the hardness. I don't fully understand this part of myself and for obvious reasons, I can't hope to ask my therapist. I will figure it out though. I want to know, when I became evil. The how and why.

But like I said. I at least know one part of it.

It's the fear.

"Oh shit, I'm going to be late."

I hurriedly get dressed, wearing a sundress of all things. But for the time of year and location, it's a good fit. Right on that line of 'fancy' but not 'rich' restaurant. Where you can wear dresses and fancy polos and only catch some slight smirks that you dressed up, instead of outright stares at a fast food place or disapproving looks from not dressing up enough at more fancy places.

My favorite kind of place to be honest. It allows me to wear a sundress.

It's not a long drive, which is more of a concern than I'd like. Time and distance are always an issue I have to think about these days. Every time requires me to set up a fake, everything, to burn away. It's the little things that'll get you. Can't go to the same grocery stores or any nearby, can't have the same profile pictures, can't accidentally run into any of them as you go out about your day and that's without even talking about the police side of things. Fake names, fake this, fake that. All up until the ending. And then you burn it all away. So much fun.

I arrive around 8:10. A bit late, requiring me to reassure them I'll be there. It's not too late though, thankfully. It's one thing to go through the whole step and process, but it has happened at least once where the other person just, didn't show up. That was painful in a special kind of way. Months of planning, weeks of interaction, to blow it all away into pieces. And I can't reuse any of it. That's how you get sloppy, that's how you get caught.

It's not long before I show up at our table and the guy is way cuter than he has any right to me. He doesn't even have a beard. I can't even tell if it's a clean shave or a natural thing. Sure, I'd seen it in pictures before but seriously, I hit the jackpot this time. Nice guy, clean shaven face, suggested a pretty great restaurant. (you always have to let them suggest it.) It's hard to say whether I'll go easier or harder tonight because of it.

"Amanda?"

"Mark! Sorry for being late, you know how it can be."

"Of course. You're looking great tonight."

"Thank you! Do you like the dress?"

"It looks great on you."

"I'm sure it'll look even better off of me." I say as I wink at him.

He gets a bit flustered from that. Oh, this is gonna be fun. I've learned I have preferences, because who doesn't? I don't even think it's related to my darker impulses. I just genuinely enjoy men who aren't, say, too confident. At least a little shy, a little flustering. A purely confident man would've winked back and smiled wide back at me. Fun but, not really for me. Not if I had to choose.

It's not long before the waiter comes over and we're ordering some drinks. No alcohol. It was one of those, small things, that Mark was happy to go along with. I don't offer much reasoning and Mark doesn't push, perhaps thinking it's because I don't want to have sex with a drunk or tipsy guy or thinking it's related to having to deal with too many drunks in my time. The reasoning is a bit darker than that. I just don't like the loss of clarity. Takes away something from the whole experience if you aren't there. It grates at me, like poisoning a pie I worked really hard to make.

Then begins the small talk, which is always easy at least.

"So, Mark, you said you work in robotics?"

"Yes! It's great actually. Did you know that..."

Ah. That kind of guy. I feel the tattered remains of my heart flutter. I always love these types. Slightly shy, fiercely passionate in their own ways. I've seen a star wars guy and a Warhammer guy. Robotics is a new one. Most of it is too far outside my wheelhouse to fully understand, names for things I didn't know, actions I don't understand, but I ask questions and for further explanations. It's a great way to show you care and are listening and I do care. I'm committed to self improvement after all, ignoring knowledge in front of me is practically a sin in my eyes. So by the time our food has arrived, I've gotten a decent working of the very very basics of how a robotic engineer does their job. Fascinating.

"I'm sorry, I've done nothing but talk about my work."

"Don't apologize, I enjoyed the conversation. It's all so very interesting." And I mean that. Which is nice, when I don't have to lie. I most certainly did not care about star wars very much.

And then... a lull. That's interesting. We of course had talked through private messages but not extensively. The important fact there, is that online messages gives you time to think before you respond. In person, not so much. Mark clearly wants to say something, anything but he has no idea what to say. Classic introvert. So very amusing.

"So, uh, what do you do for fun?"

I smirk, I can't help it. "By the end of tonight, I'm thinking a nice robotic engineer."

He nearly spat his drink. Ah, so cute.

I laugh. "Games and movies. I'm pretty boring. Have you played the new Dread 4?"

"Ah, yes! Yes, I've played it. It's really interesting how..." and so began more small talk.

Small talk is interesting. I can see why people like it and why people fucking hate it. It's light, airy, almost empty but not really. It has no real weight to it. It's like angel food cake. But, I think that's fun. To just float through a conversation, casually absorbing some fun information and if not even that, to just enjoy the sounds coming from each other. And if you aren't having fun, changing it up is always an option. Talk about what you want to talk about. People enjoy talking about themselves and their hobbies. We, ourselves, aren't immune to that joy. With a, particularly aggravating guy, a real sex pest, I was upfront and clear about my certain sexual desires. Sadly, he had no idea about my actual gender. It was a painful night for both of us.

"Amanda?"

Oh shit, I zoned out a little. Stupid of me.

"Yes Mark?"

"Ah, you want, to get out of here?"

Awww, damn. I wanted dessert. But he'll probably take that as a rejection and not feel confident enough to ask twice. Naughty. It is what it is.

"Sure. Hey, Mark. I travel, as you know. So I'm currently staying at a motel. Want to... come over?"

"S-Sure."

Of course the motel room is paid for in cash and under another false name. I'm not stupid.

My first mistakes was not getting a motel or hotel room at all. Very, very bad idea. I nearly died, as I said before. The problem was set up. Doing anything without practice and set up is a horribly bad idea. And you simply can't do anything of the sort in a bedroom you've never been to before.

I and Mark drove, we each had our own cars after all. I made sure to put a light cover over my plates. A complicated hassle if I get pulled over but it's better than abandoning the whole car because Mark got a good look.

We arrive, get out, walk and talk together, and it's not long before we're actually in the room itself. I bet poor Mark's heart is speeding away at this point.

"S-so," Ah, eager.

I spin around, a feral look in my eye, and grab Mark and kiss him. Careful to make sure I've grabbed his arms. I can't have him reaching for any places just yet. That was how #4 nearly went horribly before I salvaged things.

"Mark." I whisper into his ears, my sultry voice on full effect.

"Y-yeah?" He's panting, slightly out of breath.

"I want to tie you up."

"What?"

"Get naked."

He starts to remove his clothes and I start to take out the bondage gear from my bag. Ropes are more than a pain, some proper bondage tape and cuffs and you achieve what ropes can do, more securely, tens of times faster. Still need basic knot tying experience though.

I turn back around and thankfully, Mark is naked. And quite excited judging from that raging hard on. No extra convincing needed on that front. Though of course, the bondage always takes half a second for people to accept.

"Uh, Amanda, I'm not sure about-"

I've mastered this next phase. The Look. It's an eyebrow raise, mixed with a frown and a pout. A complete and total facial message of "We are about to have sex, I'm literally about to fuck you, and you have a problem... with this? Are you a total fucking idiot or what?" It is absolutely perfect. You'd be amazed how strong and predictable body language can be. Try crossing your arms, leaning back, and staring at someone with a frown. They'll either hate you or well, they'll probably hate you. People are little predictable machines, within limits. They don't make sense but they are predictable, if one is willing to take the time to learn.

Now The Flip.

A soft gentle smile like I'm saying "Yeah, we're going to ignore you just fucking said that and just move on."

"Get on the bed."

It doesn't always work, sometimes it really takes some elbow grease to convince a man to let another person tie them up. The alarm bells in their head start ringing. But surprisingly, I've never actually failed to convince them. They are probably just too horny. I can relate, It's hard enough keeping myself from getting hard as is. I'm so close to victory.

Mark obliges and it's not long before he is nice and snug. No amount of movement with his arms and legs is possible. I even took the extra time to lightly wrap the neck, just to keep it from moving around too much.

The next part stumped me all the way up until #6. I want to hear them, to talk to them. Great. Except they can yell and no motel has thick walls. So not great. One good scream and everything is ruined. A muzzle works great. Except they can't talk. "Sound proofing" wall paneling is good for microphones, not preventing people from hearing one another. Then I realized you can custom order anything. Including a muzzle.

It took some engineering and I was half worried I was gonna be put on a list, but I did find a company willing to make this thing. It locks the jaw down, but not entirely and has a panel in the front that does dampen sound. Honestly, I could have jury rigged something similar but for design alone, it's perfect. It's a half mask. Way easier to get onto a guy before they realize that it's actually a muzzle. Not to mention that the panel can be removed, leaving a hole that's perfect. It's even adjustable!

Mark doesn't struggle too much against the half mask, especially when he realizes he can still talk, if only barely, with it. I go ahead and increase the amount of paneling immediately for this next part. This is still relatively new so we'll try 3 layers this time.

I stand there, in front of him, just looking down at him and smiling. His worry and horniness start to grow. He's at my mercy and in a way, that's hot. This entire time though.... This entire time, this sundress has been a one piece. Because of course it is, it's a dress. But here's the secret, the little playful aspect.

I don't have anything underneath it.

I stand up on the bed and with a flourish, snap the two strings holding it to my shoulders and let it fall. I step out and kick it to the side, leaving me in my full glory to stand in front of Mark. Naked and Hard. My dick fully erect and staring down at him, with a vicious smile on my face.

His eyes, his eyes widen in unbelievable fear. It only makes me that much harder.

I look female, I sound female, hell, I keep up a good enough skincare routine that I feel female.

But I'm not, Mark. I'm a guy and I'm going to fuck the hell out of you tonight.

The shock is total. Fear mixing and riding those coattails. It hasn't really set in yet. I understand. It's a shock to realize your entire situation is like this. To realize the woman you thought you were moments away from fucking was a guy. To get trapped like this. It's sinister. It's painful. It can be heart shattering. Most guys get angry. It's the ones that just kinda, deflate into sadness that actually break my heart. That actually cause me to suffer. It's not fun, then, when they are like me instead of like Him. I usually leave. It can be, bittersweet. But that has only happened twice.

And it seems this will not be the third.

#10, Mark, screams. Or he tries too. He starts to thrash and yell.

"You motherfucker! WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Ah, music to my ears. Almost literally. I do oh so love it. I start to stroke myself above him. That only pisses him off more. He hasn't realized his position yet. He thinks this is a funny 'prank', I'm pulling. That this is the punchline. It infuriates him.

He hasn't realized what I'm about to do to him.

I let him let it all out, his shouts not leaving the room. His vitriol is strong but not long. He's not a naturally angry man and it begins to peter out and slowly be replaced with hate. Now is the moment.

I get off the bed, standing in front of it, and start to stroke his dick which had gone soft.

His eyes, oh god his eyes. I could cum now with only a few regrets. So wide, so shock, so full of anger and hatred and just purely appalled.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME!"

I don't, I continue, stoking those flames, stroking his dick. Even now, still, he doesn't realize. He doesn't connect the dots. It hasn't seeped in. I do partially hate this next part, because it's all a bluff, but for pure speed, it's the best way.

I stop stroking his dick and back away, heading to my bag, where I pull out a single medical glove, white, and put it on my hand with a snap.