Feminists are, by law, only allowed to protest provided that they are completely naked with at least a penis inside their orifices. Your job is to remind them how pitiful they actually are. Be sure to donate your cock to the cause.
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Chapter 3 How to Handle Feminists
Finally, we save the worst for last. Feminists are defined by those bitches who have the audacity to deny a man’s greatness. They always come up with demands and absurd reasons why women should be equal to men. However, by law, they are allowed to protest to their hearts’ content provided that they are completely naked with at least a penis inside their orifices. Be sure to donate your cock to the cause.
Remember that feminists are still sluts. No matter how hard they try to deny their innate nature. Your job is to remind them how pitiful they actually are.
***
In front of the courthouse and your local government, there are designated areas for protesters. You can always catch a feminist there. The best time to approach is first thing in the morning when they are still fresh and unspoiled from the day’s work.
A naked girl runs to you, a big sign in her hands asking for equal rights and equal pay. Bambi eyes, bright smiles. These are the telltale signs of a true feminist.
“Sir, would you like to offer your assistance to the cause?” Her bright innocent eyes beam at you.
“Offer how?” You narrow your eyes, a salacious grin bloom on your lips.
“By law, I need your penis inside me, sir.”
“You mean my cock?”
“Yes … yes, sir.”
“For?”
Realizing your implication, she takes a deep breath and blurts out. “I need your cock inside me, sir!”
“It’s not for me to decide. Why don’t you ask my friend then?” You walk to her until you’re practically breathing on her.
She takes a good long look at you, places the sign on the ground, and then she reluctantly sinks down on her knees. She stares at your crotch, counting the stitches on your zipper before finally saying, “Please bless my orifices with your magnificent presence, sir.”
“He can’t hear you.” You smirk, tapping her face with your crotch.
She squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself to not flinch.
“If you don’t want to …” You turn around, only for a pair of arms clinging to your leg.
“No, sir. Please give me another chance.” It’s increasingly harder to get a man who is willing to spare her the time these days. She would take all the opportunities she gets. Slowly, she unzips your pants with her teeth. A bust of musk assaults her senses. Her nostrils are flaring, filling her lungs with your manly scent. “Please—”
“Closer.” You beckon her forward. “Show some respect.”
She sticks her face inside your open zipper until her nose and mouth touch your clothed genitals. The slumbering monster slowly stirs awake, growing against her soft lips. “Please fill me up with your impressive length.”
“Why?”
“Because …” You can hear her soul crumble as she speaks. “Because … I’m useless without you.”
You kick her legs open and press the tip of your shoes against her vulva. Her shocked gasps and moans send wicked vibrations throughout your manhood and testicles. Your smirk deepens when her juice drips on your shoes and gives the black leather a good shine. “What is this hole even good for?”
She grits her teeth before degrading herself with her face pressing against his growing erection. “My … my hole is … useless without a cock, sir.”
“Why is that?” You circle the tip of your shoes against her vulva.
She bites the inside of her mouth to hold back a lewd moan. “My … my hole exists to please cocks, sir.”
“Which holes? I can count two already.”
“My mouth, my vagina, my rectum, sir.”
Her words feed your shaft. Your hardening rod throbs, knocking on her mouth. “Your mouth, your cunt, and your asshole.”
“Yes … yes, sir. My mouth, my cunt, and my asshole exist to please cocks, sir.” Her lips part, discreetly pecking your glans.
“And shine shoes.”
“And … shine shoes, sir.” One look at the glossy leather between her legs and her cheeks quickly turns red.
“Alright. You may service my cock.”
“Thank you, sir.” Her eyes light up as she gently frees your half-hard shaft from its confinement. She flutters her eyelids, her bambi eyes adoring you as she takes in your mushroom head. A wet, sloppy sound echoes from your loins when she smooches your fat crown like the most delicious lollipop.
The hussy is talented. Well, she has to be in order to seduce unwilling men to her cause. But you won’t be deterred. You sway your finger side to side in disapproval. “Tut-tut, not yet. Stand up and present your butts.”
“Yes … sir.” She wouldn’t dare to disobey a man in public, under the watchful leer of the gathering crowd as the foot traffic is hitting its peak. She bends over with her legs wide apart, waiting for your command. Her bubble butts jiggle as if begging for your attention.
You pull out a permanent marker and pop the cap inside her anus.
“Ouch! What are you doing?” She shrieks at the foreign object invading her sensitive canal, while accidentally clenching her rectum and swallowing the cap further inside.
“Do you want my help or not?” Ignoring her wailing, you spank both of her buttcheeks, turning her flesh raw and red. The force of your smack nails the cap firmly into her bowel. The harder she clenches, the further it slips.
“Y-yes y-yes… yes, sir.” She sobs, tears welling up. The cylindrical tube stirs her inner flesh with every breath she takes.
You lean down and whisper in her ear. “You’ll stand here like a good cunt that you are and take it.”
“Yes … yes, sir,” she mutters, resigning to her fate.
You begin to draw a giant penis on her back heading for her lovely canals. The marker’s wet tip sends waves of goosebumps pricking her silky skin. Then, you slide your pole on her smooth and soaking-wet labia, pressing her thighs together into a makeshift vagina. “Technically, I’m not inside of you yet. No protest for you.” You hoist her up by her breasts, her heavenly soft flesh oozing between your fingers with your marker squished between her boob and your hand. You call out to the crowd. “Anyone want to decorate her front?”
“Sure, why not?” A man steps up to draw her tits with hearts and penises pointing at her nipples.
“Slut, show some appreciation.” You grumble, nibbling her ear.
“Th-thank you for decorating my tits, sir!”
While fucking her inner thighs, you grab a handful of her hair and forcefully bend her over. “Lower your head, filthy bitch. Show some respect.”
“Sorry, sir. Please forgive my indiscretion.” She stares politely at the random man’s groin, showing her submission.
The man hums her face with his crotch, scratching her nose with his zipper. “Unlucky for you. I’m in a hurry.”
He forces her lips open and spits a glob of saliva in her mouth before leaving. Soon, another man steps up and another until her chest, her belly, her thighs are fully degraded and defaced. All are rewarded with a thank you and a kiss on the pricks at the minimum.
You feel a jolt of pleasure growing in your core and growing until it explodes all over her loins and plasters her twat and asshole in pure white. She gasps, taken aback. Her hand reaches down to ride her own pleasure only for you to toss it away. She won’t have the chance to taste that peak while you haven’t thoroughly reduced her to nothing.
You hold her hands to either of her sides and speak to her ear. “Where’s my marker cap?”
Without seeing her expression, you can feel fear engulfing her person. Her anus contracts, trying in vain to push the obstructing cap out. Finally, she gives up. “It’s wedged too deep, sir. Please forgive my naughty ass, sir.”
“Oh, let me give you a hand.” You smirks and pressing your glans against her narrow chute. A gush of warm piss fills up her cavern. Her moans and ragged breathing are music to your ears. You savor her aching by plugging her rectum with your mushroom head. “I can do this all day.”
“Pl-please, sir!” Her hands reach backward, clawing at you.
“Do you think a filthy feminist bitch like you deserves any release?”
“N-no … no, sir.”
“No what?”
She yells her answer faster than one can blink, “A filthy feminist bitch like me doesn’t deserve anything!”
“Good slut.” Finally, you pop the cork out, skillfully dodging the sewage explosion.
“Ah!” With a single syllable, she screams her lungs out and collapses on the ground, lying in her own filth. Your marker cap bounces on the tiles before rolling to your feet.
“Let me rinse your head of your filthy thoughts.” You flick the remaining droplets on her head. Warm urine seeps into her eyes and manages to blind her for a second. You pump your fist and incite the crowd with your victory. “Feminist bitches don’t deserve cocks!”
The crowd instantly roars, “Yeah!”
While the crowd goes wild, you squat over her head with your dangling prick brushing her lips. “See the people? This will go viral. No self-respecting man will ever stick his cock inside of you. Ever. Again.”
Her pupils dilate with fear. Her lips tremble. A bleak future floods her mind. She has to contemplate a life without cocks. Her soul screams in agony. At long last, the last fire in her eyes extinguishes. She starts to suckle your glans and struggle on all fours. “Please let me redeem myself, sir.”
“How?”
She sinks her teeth into her lips, drawing blood. “As … as your … slave, sir.”
You grin. “Prove it.”
***
The once proud feminist leads the way on her hands and feet, her curvy glutes waving at you, her puffy labia swelling twice the size, her scarlet slit drooling. Every few feet, she would slap her own clit as she hollers each word, the veins on her throat bulging. “I’m a filthy feminist bitch! Filthy feminist bitch doesn’t deserve cock!”
Her complete humiliation comes later when she climaxes from the slaps and degradation of her words. She collapses on the sidewalk, trembling like a leaf from the residue of pleasure.
“Get up.” You give her vulva a swift boot.
She immediately folds, her voice shaking. “Y-your m-mighty … kick exercises the bitch out of me, sir!”
Congratulations, you have successfully rehabilitated a feminist. Make sure that her road to complete redemption is long and treacherous.
(The end)