Chapter 29 – Part 3, The Measure of a Man

This is chapter 29, part 3 of the Pleasing María novel. If you are under 18 years of age, or are offended by explicit descriptions of sexual activity or violence, or by strong language, please exit this site immediately. To view the Table of Contents of the novel click here. To go directly to the first chapter, click here. To read the latest novel post, click here. This is a rough second draft.


Chapter 29 – Part 3, The Measure of a Man

I walked over to the med-school library and I noticed even more women–I counted, the ratio of women to men at the university must be about 65%-to-35%. The women wanted serious relationships at least by the end of their residencies. The men, really just immature testosterone sacks, wanted to poke around among all the women and get the quickest fuck possible. How many of these women would be shunted into fuck fodder?

Male had corrupted the true nature of humanity. Testosterone and penises corrupted everything–government, collectivism and war were the ultimate manifestation of the Male. I flashed back to a scene from the movie Apocalypse Now – Charlie Sheen, the obedient Male soldier, penis head emerging from beneath the surface of a sea of testosterone, murders Marlon Brando, the epitome of the Male. Brando, having previously said, “Horror and mortal terror are your friend, if they are not, then they are enemies to be feared,” dies as he moans, “the horror, the horror,” surely lamenting the world he destroyed.

The Female, to survive, is subtly rewriting the rules for the Male, a continuous battle–María was right for leaving me, I had lost my existential function of pleasing her. The dozens of men that fucked María in front of my face were right for fucking her simply because I allowed it. The men who punched my testicles while fucking María were right for punishing my stupidity. The street-gangs were right to castrate and remove the opposing gangs from existence. Larry was right to penetrate María’s cervix and impregnate her. PerfectPenis was right to castrate me–he could please María better than I. The Female, to survive under the oppressive Penis, pitted Male against Male.

I marveled at the strange, twisted life I had since I first saw María, but thought, No, I wouldn’t change anything at all about my life. And what a life! What a ride! Through love, sex, impotency, perversion, castration, bisexuality, prostitution, and madness, a life more exciting than even a fiction writer could invent. I re-lived the castration by PerfectPenis in my mind, from a distance of many months, it was no more significant, no more negative, than any other event in my life. I was happy to have experienced that. Would I endure the torture of castration again? YES. Could I endure it again? Probably not, it would likely kill me.

What is the measure of a man’s life? By what yardstick do you measure it? The yardstick of Male society: the personal accomplishments, the taxes paid, socially correct behavior, socially ethical living, great works?

By the Male yardstick, María is no better than the nastiest gutter slut, and I’m just a sicko pervert, my life wasted, a total failure by that yardstick, a yardstick that suppresses the natural sexuality of women. Imagine society sitting in judgment on my bisexuality, impotency, prostitution, castration, my thrill of watching multiple dozens of men fucking my wife!

What about a yardstick that allows a woman to express and realize her natural sexuality, a yardstick based on the vulva? Think how that society would be totally rearranged to accommodate that expression! And would the men that facilitated that expression be regarded as successful or failures?

Would all my perversions against Male ‘normality’ be regarded as a worthy contribution to a Female society? Is pleasing a woman a worthy yardstick for a man’s life? Not save the world, not rule a nation, not sculpt a Greek god in marble, not write the immemorial novel. Just please one woman. And she, in turn, would save the man. Every woman, every man. It’s the only yardstick for a man’s life. It had to be for me, it was all I could claim.

Except I had failed to adequately please María, I was still a failure. She selected me, I accepted my life duty to please her, but I had failed all along the way. A spectacular, unblemished history of failure. When I arrive at the pearly gates at my death, would my pleasing of the Estrella, of the estrellitas, of Marikarina, redeem part of my failure with María? It was my only chance left. I had to try harder with these exceptional women.

Is that the measure of a man?

Or

What is the measure of a man? The length and girth of his penis? Or the profundity of his vagina? Phallic coercion and violence or vulvate liberty?

Maybe humanity lost its vulva as far back as the Garden of Eden, liberty was suppressed, and the Penis has ruled since then. The entire recorded history of the world has since been catastrophic, the Penis has destroyed everything – the prima facie, de facto, irrefutable evidence of millennia of violence, war, collectivism, socialism, communism and fascism, a spectacular, unblemished record of deadly mayhem. The Penis would have killed off the vulva too, but needed a convenient place to masturbate and propagate itself. Humanity has lost its vulva, but I had found mine in María, the Estrella, Marikarina, maybe the estrellitas.

Why do collectivists hate liberty, hate humanity, hate the Vulva so fiercely. Maybe it’s their own sense of personal inadequacy, that they are nothing if not submerged in something bigger, and there, they can inflict their inadequacy on everyone else. Or maybe they are psychopaths or sociopaths. And why not? It worked for Hitler’s SS, for Stalin’s NKVD, for Mao’s Red Guard, for all the other collectivist and sociopathic systems that use war, genocide, democide, slavery, poverty, starvation, and the degradation of women as their tools. And for the US and European welfare systems who, finding unhappily that killing and slavery are out-of-fashion, grudgingly resort to theft by taxation, confiscation, impoverishments, cultural destruction, bureaucracy and regulation, enslavement through property control, and violence and coercion of every type to make their Penes stiffer. And by each freebie promised by current left-wing-nuts progressively shackling you, your children and their children, to slavery even before they are born. Link after link of shackles, your progeny will be born enchained and will never know anything different.

And always, of course, the Penis-women are right in there, doing their part, and like the men, claim to sleep well at night. Sociopaths all.

And as the first step always, the woman has to be suppressed, the Vulva made dirty. Is that the measure of a man?

I ran out of the library and vomited in the bushes, now resolved to redeem myself through the estrellitas.

End of book content.


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