Of academic interest

In a change to the usual format, today we are publishing the preamble to an academic sociology thesis.  Pretty hot, huh?  You don’t get that on Men in Pain or Cum Eating Cuckolds, do you?  Can’t imagine why not…


Extract from Male Liberation Theory: prevention and cure, a thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Department of Sociology (Male Studies Unit)
Sheila Harrietsdaughter, King’s College, Cambridge, May 2086.

Alan Travis (as he was named at birth) is one of the more
interesting revisionist male liberation theorists. Reading his books in
sequence provides an insight into a fascinating philosophical journey.  Born into a society almost unimaginable today, in which women had achieved mere ‘equality’ in society with men, he lived through the most profound and joyful social changes – changes that he, like many males, struggled at first to accept.  His early works are hard to obtain, but even
the list of titles evokes the dilemmas he was forced to confront, as he redefined his views on male liberation and as his thought
developed and matured.  A selective biography
:




  • Grateful thoughts from a
    male feminist: how the women’s rights movement has given us all a more
    equal society
    (2013).
  • De-gendering social change:
    the role of male allies in transformative feminist thought
    (2014).
  • Let men help: the concept of
    sexism and its interpretation by feminists and their male allies
    (2015) 
  • Women’s rights, political
    correctness and male identity
    (2016)
  •  A united front against
    sexism? The value of male voices in the feminist movement
    (2017)
  • Not ‘all’ men are bastards:
    deconstructing the divisive rhetoric of the ‘new’ women’s movement
    (2018)
  • Reverse oppression? Sexism
    and the ‘new’ women’s movement
    (2019)
  • Criminalising men: sexist
    jokes are not ‘rape’
    (2020)
  • The enemy within?  Male
    supporters of the ‘new’ women’s movement
    (2021)
  • No votes, no voice – men’s
    place in the ‘new society’
    (2023)
  • We will not be silenced:
    free speech and the prohibition of ‘sexist views’
    (2025 – unpublished)
  • Second class citizens? 
    Men in the ‘New Society’
    (2026 – unpublished)
  • Voices in the darkness: the
    testimony of male victims of the ‘New Society’
    (2028? Published informally
    by the men’s underground movement)
  • Men’s Liberation – A
    manifesto

    (2030? Published informally by the men’s underground movement)
  • “Writing this line over and
    over again will help me to learn that my own opinions are of no
    importance: women are in charge and we males will do as we are
    told.”  20,000 lines written in Re-education Camp 9, published in six
    volumes
    (2041,
    writing as ‘Prisoner M847733847’)
  • Eating dogshit – grateful
    reflections on a re-educational stay
    (2043 – published by the Department of Male
    Education and Correction, as part of their ‘The life that awaits you’
    series for schools).
  • Male Liberation – who needs
    it?

    (2044, writing as Alan Lucysboy)
  • Why I do not miss my penis –
    and nor does anyone else!
    (2048, writing as Alan Lucysboy)
  • Much-needed correction: a
    humble appreciation of the first 25 years of the New Society by a
    well-disciplined male
    (2051, writing anonymously as ‘Boy – aged
    61’)
  • Pleats and seams – the
    complete guide

    (2056, writing as Alan Elainesboy, Volume 13 in Ironing for Men).
  • What silly boys we were: a
    personal recollection of the Male Liberation movement and its ridiculous
    ideas
    (2061,
    writing as Alan Elainesboy).

  • Good for nothing – a last
    testament from a soon-to-be euthanised surplus male
    (2068, published posthumously
    as Alan Nobodysboy).

By chance, the last item on this prolific list of
publications was discovered by a worker at the male disposal plant who had read
and greatly enjoyed some of Alan’s later works. 
Accordingly, rather than being boiled down for glue, his body was taken
to King’s College in Cambridge, where he had held a fellowship until 2025.  He was stuffed and mounted in a corner of the
dining hall, where he remains today, in mute testimony to the remarkable
achievement of the New Society in convincing even its most strident critics of
the justice of female supremacy. 

This thesis is concerned with why Alan altered his views so
profoundly in mid-life.  Of course, a
facile answer is “Because he spent over ten years in a re-educational camp
being starved,  whipped, electrocuted and forced to eat excrement”. 
Indeed, a cursory reading of some of his later works, notably Eating Dogshit (2043), would seem to confirm
this.  However, I believe that a closer
examination of his works points to a more fundamental realisation and acceptance of his own
inferiority, and by returning to the original manuscripts of his texts –
including the profoundly moving 20,000 Lines, stained in places with the
philosopher’s own tears – I intend to show that…
…. 
(and so on and so on for another 98,000 words.  I’ll post the rest some time when I have nothing better to do and the Internet really needs another PhD thesis).  

Let’s just finish with the photo appendix.  What do you mean, real PhD theses don’t have photo appendices?  My own thesis, submitted last year, had over 3000 images.  It still rankles that they rejected it.  Call themselves a Women’s Studies department and what do they do when someone submits a thesis that entirely consists of studying women, close up and personal?  They call it ‘porn’.  Oh well.  “Dr Servitor” sounds a bit weird anyway.  Back to Dr Harrietsdaughter’s work:

Plate 10: This photograph, used to illustrate one of Alan’s early works, has
puzzled researchers for years. Captioned merely “The worm that turned”
it appears at first sight to show an ordinary unit of Re-education Corps
Servicewomen going about their work.  However, the Corps was not established until 2030: 11 years
after the book in which it appeared.  Furthermore, the Corpswomen are wearing extremely small shorts, indicating a hot summer day, yet the weather appears to be anything but hot.  Research into the undeleted
fragments of the Male Internet (access permitted under scholastic
exception), associates it only with the phrase “The two Ronnies”, who were presumably early female supremacist thinkers both called Ronald, whose work has now been lost.

Plate 13.  This illustration, from No votes, No voice (2023, restricted access), reproduces a poster widely used by the male resistance.  Titled “The Future Under The New Society”, the poster was presumably intended to alarm males and to encourage them to cast their votes (odd as it is today, to contemplate males voting) for masculinist parties. However, in a classic example of male incompetence, the poster backfired and is credited with boosting the New Society vote by ten percentage points or more among males, who seem to have found the image attractive.  Such self-defeating displays of stupidity were a recurring feature in the male resistance movement, as Alan himself thankfully recorded in What Silly Boys We Were (2061).

 Plate 19: Malcolm Harris. Harris collaborated with Alan on some of his early works, in particular the so-called Men’s Liberation Manifesto (not available for public distribution),
several versions of which circulated secretly among subversive males
around 2030.  Harris believed that only violent action could overthrow
the New Society, leading a party of armed subversives hiding out in the
Yorkshire Dales for over two years, before being betrayed by a
submissive male posing under-cover.  Harris made occasional covert radio
broadcasts, including the famous “Call to Arms” of 2031, which Alan
described as ‘inspiring’ at the time, but later admitted to have been “a
petulant stamp of the foot: a tantrum by a spoilt brat who was
severely overdue for a spanking.”. The photograph shows the former
Harris (renamed ‘Scrub’) some years later.


 Plate
24: This photograph shows ‘Prisoner M847733847 during his years in a
re-educational camp.  Note the penis: in these early years of the New
Society, male re-educational inmates typically retained their penises
and testicles, although in most cases these items became too damaged to
function as a result of the repeated application of increasingly
sophisticated re-educational techniques

The re-educational officer to the right of the Prisoner, Karen Susansdaughter, was by chance a former student of his when he had lectured at Cambridge.  Interviewed in the course of research for this thesis, she cheerfully recalled how pleased she had been to discover him in her cell block, and the many opportunities it provided to reprise their warm disagreements over female supremacist philosophy.  The officer to the left has not been identified but may be the “Anna” whose name was branded onto Alan’s thigh at some point during his stay.

Plate 27: an illustration from Eating Dogshit (2043). Note the  lemon slice on the side of the bowl, which has caused much confusion to historians of the period.  In contrast to some erroneous claims made regarding this image (e.g. Too soft on the bastards? Re-education camps in the early years of the New Society in The United Queendom, Francine Fille-de-Marie (2062)), this does not represent an actual food bowl from Prisoner M847733847’s re-educational camp. Rather, in the second chapter of Eating Dogshit (op .cit.), the author eloquently describes the essential pleasures of drinking a bowl of clean slightly lemony water, presumably after his release, to establish a contrast for the chapters that follow, which describe the experience of being forced to eat dogshit in the detail that is now familiar to generations of male teenagers from compulsory study classes (but are best avoided by female citizens without very strong stomachs).  

These chapters can be envisioned simply through their evocative titles:  “The Smell”, “First Refusal and its Consequences”, “Begging Permission to Eat”, “First Taste”, “Second Refusal and its Consequences”, “The First Mouthful“, “The First Swallow”, “Pleading for Water”, “The Whip”, “The Second Mouthful”, “Chewing”, “Swallowing”, “Vomiting”, “The Whip, once more”, “Re-ingesting”, “Licking the Bowl, “Gratitude”, “Once is not Enough”, “No Easier the Third Time”, “A Weekly Dogshit Day”, “Attempted Suicide”, “My Life is not My Own to Take”, “Grateful Acceptance and Weekly Treats”, “An Aftertaste for Life”.



Plate 28: Alan and his first Responsible Female, Lucy Deborahsdaughter, enjoy a riding holiday in France.  Riding became an increasingly important part of Alan’s life in his Lucysboy period and the couple were a familiar sight around the hills and lanes of West Derbyshire, where they lived.  Alan’s waning strength as he aged led Lucy first to castrate him, in the (mistaken) belief that geldings are stronger and then to sell him on e-bay.  
Although academic institutions bid for him, keen to possess such a well-known figure on the philosophical landscape, Lucy decided in the event on a private sale because, as she put it “the little bastard needs to work for his keep, not laze around on display in a museum”.  His eventual buyer cheerfully admitted that she had never heard of him or read anything he had written – nor indeed ever did she.  But it was to be in Elaine Ruthsdaughter’s laundry room that Alan was finally to discover a philosophy of contentment – and personal happiness at last.
Plate 32: This image, from the frontispiece to Pleats and Seams (2056) shows Alan soon after Elaine Ruthsdaughter became his Responsible Female.  Often treated merely as a practical guide to ironing, of no use to anyone except household sissies, this work can also be read (albeit at the price of extreme tedium for the average citizen, who will never have to iron a pleat in her life) as a subtle and mature work reflecting on how males can find purpose in menial acts that provide some service to the superior sex.  As Helga Fridastochter has written in Spanked, Serving and Satisfied (2072): “There can be few intellectual journeys more inspiring than that of Alan Travis, from the petulant claim in 2019 that men’s self-realisation demanded full participation in the government of society, to Elaine’s happy houseboy, ecstatically recalling her murmur of ‘good boy’ following four hours of work on one of her long pleated skirts that he loved so much.”

Prisencolinensinainciusol

As they say about President Knavs’s husband’s tweets: I think the title speaks for itself.








I understand more and more people these days are digging out cellar* conversions, creating lots of lovely extra space down there, far, far down beneath sound-proofed floors.

 *basement

They could go down to the cellar* and play with her toys.

* still ‘basement’

I’ve got a special brown card – it’s kind of the opposite of a loyalty scheme.  Hotels and airlines treat me like dirt wherever I go.

 I wrote a story about loyalty cards once.  That was when I wrote stories featuring the first domme I ever visited and her friend. They appear briefly in this one, under false names.  

But this was my favourite from back then.

I dunno. Feels a bit weird, trying on her dead dad’s dresses.  Don’t know why.

Apparently she does humiliation scenes too.  She just doesn’t always know when she’s doing one.


Sexual politics

Sorry to bore you with political stuff, but a few more images from the campaign of 2020 and its aftermath have come to my attention, so I thought I’d put them out as a public service.  Remember: this is not the only future.  It’s up to us – well, actually it’s up to our Significant Others – to decide whether it’ll happen the hard or the harder way.










Don’t worry, they’re buying equipment for girls’ schools too.  Scanning electron microscopes, 3D printers, gene sequencing tools… that kind of thing. 




Another world is possible

Quite a few of you seem to have liked my posts featuring sneak previews of the Femsuprem candidate’s successful election campaign in 2020.


I tried getting a few more through my handy fictitious time portal, but I’m afraid I must have done something truly male, because it started making horrible noises, turned sideways and then spat out an image and a pile of posters from a very different future indeed.  What can it all mean?


I suspect these particular female supremacists are not all that interested in elections.  Readers who prefer their femdom to be loving and maternal are advised to go and look at another blog for now.  

 

 

 

 






 





2020 vision



A few of you seemed rather to like the captioned pictures of attractive TV journalists talking about female supremacist politics a few weeks back.  So, ever eager to please I’ve done a few more.  But I’m not going to post them yet, you’ll just have to wait.  Just think of its as tease and denial, OK? You enjoy that, I expect. Pervert.


However, I thought perhaps while we’re waiting for that we could hear a few words from The Lady Herself.  So here, without further blather, is an excerpt from a speech that the FemSuprem candidate will be making during the 2020 US presidential campaign.

Why should men who aren’t submissive support female supremacy?   
OK, let me tell you a little story.  A true story. Around about 1905, this French  passenger ship got wrecked on a remote Pacific island. There were 32 women and 20 men who survived, so they set up a camp and waited for rescue.  But this island was way off the usual routes so no help came.
And they got a little society going, organised on traditional male grounds, obviously. This was 1905. Women didn’t even have the vote!  So the guys just decided guys should be in charge.  They probably didn’t even think about it.  But stuff went wrong. The men
started fighting over power, and one was killed and seven others ran off.  Then two of the men who were left fought over a woman and the winner raped her.  So far, so normal for thousands of years of history, right? 
But the women rose up and they threw the men out.  And they built a big fence of stakes and they got on with doing what women do: growing food, looking after one another, making their lives better. You know?  And the men did what men do: they
fought, they destroyed stuff and eventually they were scavenging around half-naked for raw berries and nuts and worms out there in the forest.
So, every so often, a man would come to the gate of the women’s village and beg to be allowed back in.  And the first few times the women just said no.  But then they held a council and they discussed it – as women, do, respectfully of one another’s opinions, while the men were settling their differences on the rest of the island with clubs – and
they agreed to let the men back in on one condition.
Here’s the condition: any man who came back in, could do so only as a slave.
Yeah: a slave.  And I guess you all think that’s terrible and a horrible thing to happen.  Slavery’s not a nice word and I suppose it’s not a very nice thing when you’re a slave either.  But it was better than grubbing up roots and berries and being constantly afraid of being beaten up or raped by the other men, you see.  So, over time, one by one, all the men came back into the village. As slaves. 
And they lived and they got enough to eat – and, yeah, they weren’t free any more. So they didn’t have the freedom to rape people because they couldn’t control their sexuality or dig up the crops before they were ripe because they couldn’t control their gluttony – or the freedom to fight each other for power.  And maybe they had to
take a whipping occasionally, when they deserved it and I guess that can’t have
been fun. But it was better than starving. 

It worked, see?
But… that’s not the end of the story. All good things have to come to an end and after about 15 years, finally a ship visited the island.  And things could have been fine,
but the captain of the ship saw a guy tied to the whipping post and decided it was too weird for him and he took everyone off at gunpoint. And after that, we don’t really know what happened to the castaways.  I’d like to think some of them carried on in
female-led households back in France. 

Because women were a lot freer after the first world war, see, so maybe that could have been possible. But it’s hard to stand against the culture.
But here’s the thing. 20 men landed on that island. Two were killed by other men early on, and one died of natural causes about 1915.  The other 17 came home. What do you think would have happened to them if they hadn’t been shipwrecked?  They’d have joined the army, of course, like all French men in 1914.  And if they were lucky they’d have spent four years in the trenches, wading through mud constantly, permanently infested with lice and always terrified of a shell or a sniper taking off the top of their head, or ripping out half their guts in a split second.  They’d have been compelled
by other men to stand up above the trench and run towards the enemy’s lines,
scrabbling over barbed wire as machine guns cut through their bodies and those
of their comrades.  If they were unlucky they’d have been gassed, shot, bombed, shelled and bayonetted while trying to do the same thing back, killing men on the orders of other men.  And if they somehow survived the enemy but
refused to try to kill him, they’d have been shot.  By men on their own side.
And my question to you is this: were the guys on the island worse off?  They wore collars and chains and they didn’t get to decide much for themselves, it’s true. They got an occasional beating when they deserved it, and I’ve heard from time to time some
of the women got a bit frisky too and liked to humiliate them a bit.  But if it’s that or  the trenches of World War I – which would you choose?
I sometimes wonder whether those men were honest with themselves after they came home.  Whether when anyone ever asked them what they did in the Great War, how
they survived, they’d say ‘Oh – I was enslaved in a matriarchal society.  I had a pretty sore bottom from time to time, but we didn’t have any wars.” Because that would have been the truth. But I expect they didn’t.  Back then, most men would have thought of subordination to women as the worst thing in the world.  They’d just had four years of unimaginable horror in the trenches but somehow going over a woman’s knee was an intolerable thought.  Go figure.
And that’s my story.  And that’s why I say to men: look at the world you have.  This is your world: the world you men made.  You’ve had thousands of years in
charge and… well, look at it.  You want to make it better?  You’ve tried political campaigns to put different men in charge and you’ve tried revolutions to put a whole bunch of different men in charge and you’ve had wars – boy, have you had wars! – to see if killing people might help and hey: nothing works!  You’re still scrabbling around
for nuts and berries, fighting each other, living like animals.   
Well, I’m offering you the same deal as those women on the island did. We’ll open the gate, if that’s the choice you decide to make.

What have you got to lose? Your freedom? Give me a break.  Your freedom is the problem.  And if you’re honest with yourselves, you’ll admit that. And you’ll support us in this election.  And if we win, you don’t have to worry about what happens next, because we’ll be in charge. Do you have to be submissive to want that? Or do you just have to be intelligent enough to recognise that you need to give yourself a break and put someone else in charge?
I’m Anne Hathaway. 

I’m a female supremacist and I want your vote on November 3rd.  

Masculinity is a treatable medical condition.

Look, I do understand the hypocrisy involved in my advancing political opinions, but can I just comment on this view going around that Trump’s election is in some way a consequence of ‘political correctness’?
Trump was elected merely because of a ridiculous quirk in the US electoral system, that might have made sense in the eighteenth century but has no relevance to the modern world: namely, that men are allowed to vote.  The country basically voted 54% to 42% for Clinton, before all those male votes were taken into account and it’s absurd this should have been allowed to distort the result.  Sure, it’s nice to let men feel they can take part, but to actually let them cast ballots unsupervised is just political correctness gone mad, and now we have to live with the consequences.
I mean, honestly, you wouldn’t let a man make decisions about the family finances, or how best to iron your blouse or what time he goes to bed, would you?  So why on earth would you let him have a say in choosing the President?

Doesn’t make sense to me.  But then, I am ‘chromosomally challenged‘* so what do I know?
(* and yes, I am using that politically correct phrase ironically. What’s wrong with just saying ‘a stupid boy‘ for goodness sake?  When did we stop calling things what they are?)
Thank goodness things round here are still sane and matriarchal. 


She seems to be controlling his masculinity problem nicely.
She loves her work.  You will too.



I think she’s recognising that his behaviour has been causing pain in their marriage – but not quite enough pain.







I wonder how the consultant goes about measuring her?





Secondary sexual characteristics – they’re even more annoying than the primary ones, sometimes.  Fortunately, a simple surgical procedure can deal with both at the same time.


A little bit of politics there…

[NB: Brexit-related post not of any interest to readers who is not Bri-ish and of little enough to those who are]


As they say, if voting changed anything, they really shouldn’t let men do it.  But it can, and sadly they do, so with some reluctance Servitor posted off his vote to remain in the European Union (which includes the Czech Republic, remember), wistfully hoping for the day when only the superior gender has such a privilege.


Of course, I wouldn’t dream of seeking to advise or influence any female readers of this blog in their important political deliberations.  But for the rest of you, burdened with Y-chromosomes… never mind the economics, never mind the discussions about sovereignty vs effective weight in the politics of the world, fundamentally all you need to know about the Brexit referendum is this:

Ooh la la.

Yup.  Mistress Eleise lives in Paris. So the fewer border controls the better.  Aaand, it’s really none of my business, I don’t know the nationality of all of these ladies for definite, but let me just say, that there are certain advantages in allowing citizens of other EU countries to live and work in Britain.




Nuff said, I’d say.




I was going to try to do the usual five captions, themed
around Brexit, but I got too bored and depressed and they were all kind of samey, so here’s as far as I
got. Normal service resumes on Friday.