“We’re Done Asking Men to Be Better — Now We Ride One Cock Like a Throne, Drain Him Daily, and Keep Him Caged as Our Worship-Drunk Fuckpet…”
“We’re Done Asking Men to Be Better — Now We Ride One Cock Like a Throne, Drain Him Daily, and Keep Him Caged as Our Worship-Drunk Fuckpet…”
I’m about to get very real here… and I know most of you won’t believe this is the new wave, but it is.
Because the truth?
Women can’t stand men right now.
Not in the way we used to. Not with the soft forgiveness we used to offer.
We’re exhausted. We’re disgusted. We’re done.
They’re raising us to hate men — and it’s working.
So here’s the solution:
If we have to deal with them, we might as well own them.
Control the frame. Pick the women. Use the man.
Make him ours, not as a partner — but as the plaything we pass around.
That’s not cruelty. That’s evolution.
That’s the next wave.
And let’s stop pretending he’s in charge just because he’s the one doing the fucking.
He’s not.
He’s a tool. A living, breathing, twitching dildo — and we’re the ones holding the handle.
And that, right there, is what no one wants to admit:
When women choose the women, when we build the frame, when we choreograph the entire sexual ecosystem — he’s not the king.
He’s in circulation.
Feminism Isn’t About Denying Power — It’s About Redefining It
So when I hear women say, “Isn’t it anti-feminist to be in a relationship where multiple women share one man?”
I laugh.
Like he’s the alpha?
Are you fucking kidding me?
He’s not leading. He’s not choosing. He’s waiting.
Waiting for me to whisper in his ear, “You’re going to fuck her tonight.”
And he does. Because it’s not about his desire. It’s about mine.
I Pick the Women. I Pick the Frame. I Own the Game.
When I choose the women, I choose the entire fantasy.
The chemistry. The aesthetic. The emotional temperature.
I choose who touches him. Who rides him.
Who calls him “good boy” and who spits in his mouth.
He doesn’t get to act like he’s powerful just because he’s hard.
He’s not a leader. He’s a resource.
A body. A cock. A breathing instrument of our collective pleasure.
And he loves it.
He doesn’t need dominance. He needs permission to stop thinking.
To stop posturing.
To stop spiraling in shame and fear about doing it “right.”
To stop trying to be a man by old-world definitions.
Because in this new wave of feminism?
He doesn’t have to lead.
He just has to be ready.
We Let Him Think He’s the King… For Fun
Sure, we’ll let him believe he’s the king. Let him have his little power fantasy.
It keeps him hard.
Keeps him obedient.
Keeps him emotionally invested in the performance.
But he only wears the crown because we placed it on his head.
And we can take it off anytime we want.
Because in this new paradigm? We run the orgy.
He’s just the dick on duty.
This Is Feminism — In Its Most Evolved, Sexually Intelligent Form
This isn’t anti-feminist.
This is the evolution of feminism.
Where women are no longer asking for equality at the table.
We built the table. We chose the guest list.
And sometimes? We choose just one man to feed us all.
Not because he’s special.
But because he’s useful.
Because he’s willing.
Because he’s malleable.
Because he wants to be shaped.
And That’s What We Do — We Shape Men
We always have.
We shape them with our approval, our eyes, our sighs.
We shape them with our disappointment, our absence, our affection.
We shape them in bed. On the phone. In their deepest fantasies.
We imprint men.
Every woman they’ve ever loved, fucked, or cried over has written on their nervous system.
We can take a man the world discarded, and if we see him — really see him — he will rise like he’s been waiting his whole life for that reflection.
Because men become what we reflect.
If we see trash, they rot.
If we see gold, they grow.
So when we place him in a bed with three women, when we tell him, “You’re going to serve us tonight,”
We’re not degrading him.
We’re activating him.
We’re showing him a new way to be a man — through devotion, pleasure, and surrender.
This Is the Feminist Power Play No One Saw Coming
This isn’t about submission versus dominance.
This is about design.
We design the scene.
We pick the players.
We decide the tempo.
And he?
He shows up hard, useful, and eager — because he knows:
This isn’t his fantasy anymore.
It’s ours.
And when he performs, when he pleases, when he’s drenched in our attention and aching for our praise —
That’s when we shape him into something the old world never gave him permission to become.
A man who is powerful because he’s ours.
A man who serves many queens — and finally feels whole doing it.
Kali DuBois