It would be tacky to copypasta the disclaimer onto every one of these articles, so this time we're just going to give you some background on our subject and some reasoning behind our seemingly meaningless jerkiness.
Remember going through parents' porn collection? At the very top of the pile was all the standard fare. Double D butt sluts and the occasional threesome. You know, kid's stuff. It's more than enough to fap to, but your curiosity simply isn't satisfied. You dig down further. Perhaps you stumble on some interracial or -gasp- transsexual rags. You dig deeper. The scandal is delicious but it simply isn't filling. Bondage midgets. Enema secretaries. Golden shower lesbians. Your first reaction is to cover it up, to just put it all back in the box and go back to playing with your pogs, but you know, you just know, that whatever's underneath these oddities will blow your mind. And there it is. The ghost that will haunt you every Christmas dinner and family reunion, that chill that goes up your spine every time your father gives you a hug, if your father is one of those “hugging types” who doesn't display his affection by beating you over the head with an ice tray while screaming at you to get a job.
Yeah, Fetlife is the opposite of that. To get to that fly honey in the center of the internet tootsie pop, you have to choke down the wave after wave of troglodyte erotica.
And while FetLife offers a wide variety of “gender markers” to place on your profile, like the “open door” buttons with the little wheelchair picture on them, the people who take advantage are almost always the people who shouldn't.
The likelihood of coming across a profile marked “MtF” only to find pictures of somebody's frustrated uncle who's only one “ASL” away from meeting Chris Hansen wearing nothing but granny panties is higher than you think.
The MtF tag, like Elijah Wood in Rob Reiner's crime against humanity “North”, is adopted by one unwanted horror after another, from closeted stocking connoisseurs to crossdressing dominatrices to the arch-nemeses of Snark Tank and the bane of jaded trans women everywhere: sissies.
Our relationship with sissies is one of love and hate. On the one hand, they (and the dommes who enable them) promote stereotypes by posting pictures of themselves in frilly outfits and calling themselves “t-girls” and perpetuate the patriarchal idea that womanhood and feminine beauty is inferior to macho manhood and should be used as a tool to shame and humiliate.
On the other hand, by giving us such good material to snark, sissies both validate our existence and ensure a continuing supply of the mockery and ridicule they need to beat off. So it's a win/win situation for everyone. Well played.
(FYI: Not all of our snarks are sissies. Some of them just don't know how to dress.)
Purrsephone: Jim Varney in “Ernest Wears A Costume To A Party That Is Not A Costume Party But Milks The Awkward Tension Long Enough To Make A 90 Minute Movie Only Four Guys In Kentucky Will Think Is Funny”.
Cattlean: It takes tremendous effort to make a plastic “golden shower”-colored hat the least ridiculous part of our outfit.
Purrsephone: That outfit is so horrid even Dave Chappelle is making black jokes about her.
Cattlean: “Sweetheart, is it okay if I borrow some of your 'threads'? I've got a swank party down at the TGI Friday's and I want, um, to be 'foine'.”
Purrsephone: “You still haven't returned my Twilight books, Mom. Not that I care anymore, cause Stephanie Meyer's a sell out and now everyone at Hot Topic is Edward's girlfriend, but still, whatever, you're such a tool, I can't stand you!”
Cattlean: Another successful New Year's Bash for the Alice Cooper Impersonator Society. Oh god. That was satisfying. It is easy being you.
Purrsephone: Does Hot Topic have a “pet” section I don't know about, or is there an uncollared bulldog hiding under a car hoping to get the drop on the animal control officer?
Cattlean: Her outfit says “black like my heart” but her face says “black like that thing that's still stuck up my pooper”.
Purrsephone: That's no way to talk in front of Don Henrie's grandma!
Cattlean: Your references are just going to become more and more obscure, aren't they?
Purrsephone: Your mom's becoming more and more obscure.
Cattlean: I see this picture and I don't even think “boy or girl?” All I think is “fried rice or more fried rice?”
Purrsephone: Retirement has not been good to Chun-Li.
Cattlean: You know this checks off the entire list of some guy's very specific collection of fetishes. I want to meet that person so I know who the hell I'll be avoiding the rest of my life.
Purrsephone: That grimace could only mean one thing. Someone is squeezing all the charmin.
Cattlean: Her right hand is already in karate chop condition in case you get too close to the pot stickers.
Purrsephone: A comment posted under this picture said “one look like that and the slave knows their place”. Yes. In line at the drive-thru.
Cattlean: That wig is so lifeless and ill-fitting that I'd actually believe that was her real hair.
Purrsephone: What her profile doesn't say is that she's actually a quarter Chinese. This has nothing to do with genetics. She ate the hostess at P.F. Chang's.
Cattlean: We should point out that Purrsephone is the token BBW of the Cathouse team, and while her comments suggest a severe case of displacement and self-loathing, they're not as hateful towards plus-sized people as they appear.
Purrsephone: Whereas you, at a dainty 150 pounds, are just a cunt.
Cattlean: Oh, you're fat and misogynist. No wonder they treat you like shit at Torrid.
Purrsephone: Yeah but they love me at Old Navy.
Purrsephone: If your nightmares were all contained in a corporate office complex, this would be Violently Beaten To Death By Mr. Magoo's receptionist.
Cattlean: Congratulations to whoever made this possible, you made “bring your sissy to work day” even more painful and uncomfortable than it had to be.
Purrsephone: You have to admire a sissy with a purpose. She doesn't have time for scrubbing floors and being hypnotized into liking the cock. She's too busy defending her domme's honor on youtube and flaming anyone who says her Coldplay fan video sucks. Or maybe she's just playing mindsweeper. As, um, punishment.
Cattlean: “For every bomb you click on you're going to get flogged!”
Purrsephone: I don't even think this counts as erotic humiliation. I think it's just abuse. I mean, look at her. She's not enjoying this in the least bit. Even her hair is cringing in disgust.
Cattlean: MTV's True Life: “I'm A 14 Year Old Girl On The Internet”.
Cattlean: “Hold on, girl. Let me get this straight. You put the lime in the coconut?”
Purrsephone: Someone alert Jim Gaffigan. We've found what lies “Beyond The Pale”.
Cattlean: “Meth? What meth?”
Purrsephone: On the set of “Sorority Boys”, Harland Williams attempts to do his own hair and makeup.
Cattlean: I can't tell which end of the “barf” spectrum this hair color falls into, and I'm not sure I want to know.
Purrsephone: Don't lie. Yes you do. I'm sure she'll tell you, as soon as the guy behind the camera stops trying to explain the physics of the TARDIS.
Cattlean: Okay, this relationship isn't going to work if you keep making references to things even I dont know about.
Purrsephone: It's called wikipedia.
Cattlean: It's called get a life.
Purrsephone: This is what Dick Cheney was aiming at when he shot his friend in the face.
Cattlean: If you look close enough, in the background you can see Sasquatch taking pictures of her.
Purrsephone: Those aren't fashionable accessories. Many have tried to capture her and failed. She wears their nets as trophies.
Cattlean: The first one lures you in with their “mating dance” while the other two ambush you from the sides.
Purrsephone: This was the last thing you see before your dick is chewed off.
Cattlean: Where is your god now, patrons of the botanical garden?
Cattlean: Who do you think would masturbate more furiously to this picture: Larry Craig or Fred Phelps?
Purrsephone: Rejected Star Trek Villain #4625: T'Drag, the Crossdressing Vulcan.
Cattlean: You know all those stupid “forced feminization” stories you find on the internet where the wife dresses the husband up to prove how hard women have it? This is like, the opposite, where the husband dresses himself up to prove how ugly and fake she looks.
Purrsephone: “Yeah! This is what you look like! I'm you! I think I'm going to go spend all night on the phone talking to my girlfriends about how much I love caramel machiattos! How do you like that, you cold unfeeling bitch!”
Cattlean: This is drag of a drag. Like when that annoying guy who sits by you at work quotes Family Guy and tries to do all the voices but he can't because he's a fucking fool.
Purrsephone: Like that time Dustin Diamond and I ran in a three-legged race!
Cattlean: Now I remember why nobody ever pays you for the shit you write.
Purrsephone: Yo dawg, I heard you like sissies, so we put some forced feminization in your forced feminization so you can emasculate while you emasculate!
Cattlean: “Dear Forced Womanhood, I never thought it could happen to me...”
Purrsephone: “10 New Ways To Please Your Closeted Lesbian Mistress!”
Cattlean: “Is French Maid The New French Maid?”
Purrsephone: “A Low Carb Chocolate Cake Recipe So Good Your Mistress Might Actually Pretend To Let You Get Off!”
Cattlean: “Fun Ways To Lose Weight While Getting The Shit (And Dignity) Beaten Out Of You!”
Cattlean: The lesson to be learned from this picture is if you're afraid of being bashed, carry around a colossal glowing blue phallus. Instead of beating you up people will just take pictures of you and have a good laugh at your expense. You know, the same treatment that ugly cispeople get.
Purrsephone: Hold your horses, Admiral Ackbar. She's a bit of a dog. Wait for the next one.
Cattlean: Your jokes, like original sin and the plot to Donnie Darko, makes no fucking sense.
Purrsephone: Don't worry. They'll make a reference of it at the next Thanksgiving Day parade, and then you'll be laughing like you were in on it from the beginning.
Cattlean: I haven't seen this much black lipstick and fail in one place since I went to the Rocky Horror party at the Mormon church.
Purrsephone: Pics or it didn't happen.
Cattlean: That's what she said.
Purrsephone: …..
Purrsephone: Oh no. This is worse than we thought.
Cattlean: Even the one in the black is thinking “oh no, what hath we wrought?”
Purrsephone: “Why am I posing with all these fucking amateurs? I'm the real deal, goddamit! I was MAID for this!”
Cattlean: I can't shake the feeling that one of these sissies is someone's phys ed coach.
Purrsephone: And I can't shake the feeling that at least one of them managed to untuck their “sissystick” long enough to produce offspring. It could either be pinky, hence why she's looking away from the camera (yeah, like that's going to keep them from identifying you, do yourself a favor and get Nobody Nose for Windows) or “Made (sic) in Oklahoma”. She's giving a look that could suggest “hey, just because your mother keeps my dick locked in a cage doesn't mean I can't ground you!”
Cattlean: My guess is blue. I've seen that forced smile in many a suburban family portrait.
Purrsephone: Let's not rule out pinky the lesser in the front. You'd have to fish a lot of turds out of bathtubs and skip a lot of bar trivia games to feed a hairless cat that only expresses emotion by screaming in your face before you develop a sense of humility disciplined enough to be caught wearing that trannywreck.
Cattlean: “Mayor, the trannies are beginning to wear jeans and go out in public without lipstick. Call the sissy squad at once!”
Purrsephone: “Uh, not now, we're posing for a group photo.”
Cattlean: This will all end in tears. I just know it.
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