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Wednesday, 4 January 2017

The Appeal Of The Submissive Female, Microphilia And Vore Fic Part 1 Preamble

The Appeal Of The Submissive Female, Microphilia And Vore Fic
Part 1 Preamble

By
Alexander Gordon Jahans


In which I perhaps most thoroughly assassinate my character since I first showed my man tits on youtube.

This is stupid. This is ridiculously completely unbelievably stupid. The words I write now, once published online, will haunt me for the rest of my life. I know this. I accept this. I am a moron. I am probably pleading with myself desperately right now to close focus writer, step away from the keyboard and chill the fuck out because if I was worried about all the reasons making me want to write this then this post is like throwing gasoline on that fire. I am an utter fucking idiot.

You see I have a confession to make. Not much of one since this channel and my youtube video are full of the evidence but it’s a damning confession all the same.
This is an easily portable confession and display of evidence as to exactly what a homunculus of shit I really am.

I, Alexander Gordon Jahans, being of sound (ish) mind and body do herebye swear before all that matters that I am a cis white English male who enjoys the portrayal of the submissive female, microphilia and vore in fiction.

You’re not supposed to do that. Fetishes and kinks are supposed to be kept quiet behind closed doors. It makes people angry you see. I mean when 40% of Americans still believe god created Adam and Eve and people are finding the idea of marriage between people of the same gender difficult to stomach then suggesting you like to whip or be whipped by another consensually is seen in some circles like vomitting up while somebody is eating. Even if they understand that the vomiting hurt nobody, that it had to be done and wasn’t your fault they’ll feel sickened and annoyed with you all the same.

Except I’m not sure I’d be writing this if I was just interested in a bit of consensual bondage or only looked at porn of this stuff. I write fiction, fiction about women being kept as pets, turned into toys, shrunken and, yes, even eaten. Much of it is on this channel (farsh-nuke.blogspot.com) and on my youtube channel. (https://www.youtube.com/user/farshnuke) Already I’m anticipating this going viral in a bad way, may as well link back to the sources, let people research on their own once this gets free booted.

I have another confession to make now, again that people already know, perhaps worse than the first and the reason the first is published.

I am terrified of feminists.

There is a saying the left and feminists love to share around in response to any asshole whining about movements towards equality:

To The Privileged, Equality Feels Like Oppression

It’s used smugly and patronisingly and often it is deserved but there is a dark truth within that phrase. Be on the right side of history or face its wrath.

Now don’t get me wrong I know Nazis, the Alt-Right, Republicans and Conservatives are the more immediate threat. The Alt-Right know where I live and have sent enough things through the post that the police are ready to swoop in if there’s trouble and have already made one arrest. I am scared in a very literal way about the safety of myself and my family because of the rise of the Alt-Right. I am genuinely concerned that in the next 8 years a new Nazi regime will have to be fought back.

I will never make the mistake of calling feminists feminazis, even the radicals that are most likely to do what I fear, because feminists are smarter than Nazis. They don’t use force and they don’t try to brainwash the weak with appeals to ego that risk fracturing the power base. Instead they use intelligence and wisdom facts. The feminists have one core tenet that is fundamentally impossible to disagree with. They win because they are right and only a fool thinks otherwise and it takes a bigger fool to see that tidal wave of change approaching and think that if they hold firm it will pass them by and won’t utterly swamp them, uprooting many of their friends in the process.

The nazis may kill me but the feminists could destroy my reputation, tattered as it is, and ultimately make me hate myself so much I have nothing left to live for. One of the reasons I used to identify as an anti-feminist and embrace egalitarianism.

You see the feminists are coming for me, I’ve known it for a while and I’ve been in denial for a while too. I thought I wasn’t misogynistic, that I could write what I liked without it coming back to bite me on the arse. Or at least no matter how many times I angsted about feminists I would always return to that perspective before I continued writing. Then in 2016 I was branded transphobic because of my writing and because I refused to give trans people the right to enact mob justice on a facebook group I was temporarily moderating and in one fell swoop everything I feared about feminism came true. Reputation ruined, friends lost, a mob intent on revenge to feel safe disgusted that I opted for painless silencing of the shit mongers and ultimately excising me from a part of society I felt I belonged in.

Of course then the Alt-Right smelled weakness and used an imitation of my writing to piss of transpeople even more. Because it never rains but it pours.

Once that happened it was like I couldn’t run away from my fears anymore. If it came to it. If the feminist revolution comes, like the French Revolution that the trans uprising was so in awe of and keen on copying, if a gun is placed to my forehead for having written what I wrote, would I stop writing? Was my fear of the coming tidal wave enough to make me stop? No. No, I don’t think it honestly ever will be.

Because that’s the thing about fear, it’s only really palpable if you don’t know what you’re afraid of. 2016 was the year I stopped seeing suicide as something I deserved or an end to my pain that I wanted, and started seeing it as an escape hatch. 2016 was the year my feminist nightmares were realised by the trans community, the year the Nazis decide to make it very clear they had me by the bollocks and were going to have fun hurting me. 2016 was thus also the year I decided I no longer gave a flying fuck if I died, was gassed as a race traitor or destroyed as a misogynistic scumbag.

So with a new year and a new political group, in a moment of weakness I asked whether the writing I wrote made me misogynist. I didn’t really care about the answer, I was never going to stop, I was just curious. I did get one interesting answer though. That whilst my writing wasn’t necessarily bad enough to make me misogynistic it was clearly violent and problematic and I should be very self critical to ensure that I am not misogynistic. I fear I convinced her I was misogynistic because I wanted an exodus from angst not a justification for my constant angsting but never the less her words have sunk home.

So, on with the analysis...

In Part 2. Because I don’t want your eyes to glaze over.