Femdom Agitprop

"YES, COMMISSAR!" the room proclaimed. Janice was a little quieter on this one--the week before, she'd bragged about adding estrogen to her world-famous peanut butter bars, only to be berated as a barbarian for bringing peanut products into the hallowed halls of Elizabeth Cady Stanton Middle School. She had almost come to blows with Probationary Member Cisse, who had a daughter in her son Matt's class. Comrade Solanas had, thankfully, broken it up before Janice had time to take off her rings and go to town.

"Outstanding!" Commissar Val beamed at the room. "On to our work on Literotica! Comrade Spengler, your last story was exemplary. As for the rest of you, outstanding work on the comments."

Janice tentatively raised her hand. "Point of information, Commissar?"

"Yes, Probie?"

"I have a question concerning Comrade Spengler's latest story. If I recall correctly, her story had the cheating wife giving her husband all her passwords, consenting to counseling with a therapist of his choice, signing a postnup, wearing a GPS anklet, shaving her head, dressing in ashes and sackcloth and walking around the neighborhood wearing a sandwich board that says 'Slut.'"

"That's correct, Probie. What's your question?"

"Well, Commissar, I guess I'm wondering how exactly that sort of story is going to lead us to a female-dominated society?"

Commissar Val smirked at her. "Comrade Spengler, do you want to explain your story to the probationary member?"

"Happily, Commissar!" Comrade Spengler rose to her feet. "Well, Anonymous 97, we have to see this as a first step. Reconciliation--at any cost--opens the door to future infidelity. Once the husband in the story accepts his wife's first offense, he'll let her off easier on the next one."

Janice nodded her head slowly. "Like maybe he won't make her shave her head?"

"Exactly!"

Janice spoke slowly, trying to avoid offending Comrade Spengler. "I see. And, at that rate, how long will it be before he's wearing a cock cage?"

Commissar Val broke in. "Probationary Member Andrews, we must remember that creampies aren't baked in a day." Looking up at the room, she performed the CUCC salute. "COMRADES, CREAMPIES AREN'T BAKED IN A DAY!"

"CREAMPIES AREN'T BAKED IN A DAY! CREAMPIES AREN'T BAKED IN A DAY! CREAMPIES AREN'T BAKED IN A DAY!" the women chorused, until the Commissar cut them off with a raised fist.

"I hope that answers your question, Probie."

"Yes, Commissar. Thank you for taking the time to explain it to me."

*

After the meeting, the women broke up to discuss the week's events and the neighborhood gossip. Comrade Solanas wandered over to Janice. "You can't help yourself, can you?" she chuckled, putting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You seem to start a tempest at every meeting!"

"Well, it's just confusing, Beck--I mean, Comrade Solanas," Janice said, shaking her head. "How exactly does it make sense for us to promote humiliating reconciliations on Literotica?"

"Think of it this way, Probie: we're creating a false dilemma." Seeing her friend's confused look, she patted her shoulder. "In reality, there are hundreds of ways to deal with a spouse's infidelity--you can go to counseling, or open the marriage, or make them check in, or get a postnup. And, if you get a divorce, you can be generous, and try to maintain a good relationship, if only to care for the kids. You with me?" Janice nodded her head. "We're trying to narrow those options. We want to make divorce so awful that men will choose a humiliating, female-dominated lifestyle rather than put themselves at the mercy of the courts. You heard today about how that's working out." Janice nodded. "The trouble is, a lot of men are still going for the burn-the-bitch option."

Janice shivered. "Yeah, some of those stories freak me out."

"No kidding! So what we're trying to do is reduce everything to three choices--life-shattering divorce, psychopathic burn-the-bitch, or some form of reconciliation. The troll settlement makes divorce a non-starter. As for burning the bitch, most men in real life don't want to be Ted Bundy. That leaves reconciliation. And, if we can convince them to go for a reconciliation--no matter how humiliating it is to the women--we've got them opening the door to the cuck lifestyle. Next thing you know, they're watching the kids and making drinks for the bull."

"That seems like a stretch," Janice said. "Why would any man--"

"Shh!" Comrade Solanas grabbed her shoulder. "Do you WANT to be sent to a reeducation retreat?"

Janice shuddered. The previous month, she'd gone on the "Self-actualization Yoga and Writing Retreat" that was required of all new members. She'd been looking forward to a week of meditation and hot monkey sex, but after a few days of hot yoga, macrobiotic cuisine and mandatory threesomes with the well-hung slave boys who worked at the spa, she'd felt like a dugout canoe. It had taken a week before she was able to sit straight in a chair, and she'd had to tell her husband that she had pulled a hamstring in order to get out of sex. When she was finally able to resume conjugal relations, she almost wept at the familiar, comforting feel of her husband's normal-sized penis.

The worst part, she reflected, were the consciousness-raising workshops: three hours of staring at her vagina in a hand mirror had done little more than make her desperately hungry for a roast beef sandwich--a situation that was not relieved by the mushroom-and-seitan dumplings that were served by the spa's cafeteria.

Members were only required to attend one retreat per year, unless they were deemed to be in need of "revolutionary reeducation." While Janice suspected that some members might be voluntarily sabotaging themselves for the wild monkey sex, the idea of a weekend of brutal sportfucking and vegan cuisine had her breaking out in cold sweats.

"No thank you, Comrade Solanas. And thanks for the warning."

Janice's friend gave her a fond smile. "Look at it this way, Probie: it's a conspiracy. They don't always make sense, especially on the ground level. You have to trust the leaders, to believe that they have a strong plan in place." Seeing Janice's confused look, she thought for a moment, then decided to trust her friend. "Think about it for a second: you remember the conspiracy theories about the JFK assassination?"

Janice nodded.

"Well, do they really make sense to you? I mean, there are theories that it was the CIA, the Soviets, the Mafia, the Rosicrucians...Jesus, if half of them were true, Dealey Plaza would have been more crowded than a 50 percent off sale at Neiman-Marcus."

Janice shook her head. "So Lee Harvey Oswald killed JFK?"

"Of course not! It was Jackie."

"Jackie Kennedy?!?"

Comrade Solanas smiled. "Sure. He was cheating on her. It was humiliating. And then, of course, she masterminded Watergate."

"Wait, what? Watergate?"

"Yeah, Nixon tried to send Tom Hayden to jail. And Jackie was doing him on the side." Solanas grinned proudly. "She was the founder of CUCC. Along with Betty Ford and Rosa Parks."

Janice laughed. "Jesus, she was busy!" She tilted her head. "Seriously? Jackie O, Betty Ford and Rosa Parks?"

"That's how it started. Stick around, Janice. You'll learn some things."

"All that, and she still bagged Aristotle Onassis."

"Yup. Supposedly made him eat creampies, too."

Janice shook her head. "Christ, what is it with rich guys eating cum?"

"I don't know." Comrade Solanas hugged her friend. "But with any luck, maybe our middle-class husbands will get a taste for it."

*

That night, sitting in front of her computer, Janice considered her options. She couldn't spill the beans on CUCC--if even half of what Beckie had said was true, the conspiracy went to the highest levels, and exposing it to the public would do little more than cause her family to be humiliated. Her husband might lose his job, and she would certainly be kicked out of the PTA. Plus, Ruthie Dworkin would make her son's life a living hell at school. Seventh grade was hard enough without being the target of a radical feminist teacher.

And what if she got the word out? Well, probably nothing would happen. The whole conspiracy was so bizarre, so outlandish, that only the most salacious, disreputable news publications would give it any credence. Of course, that was assuming that they weren't part of the conspiracy.

Janice shook her head. Once you started to understand the conspiracy, it was hard to keep from getting paranoid. She switched the tab to Literotica. "My Penitent Wife," the title read, right above the byline: "StarSpenglerBanner." She scrolled through the story. It wasn't bad, she admitted--the wife did the crime, then she did the time. But understanding the hidden message--and the vast conspiracy behind it--she could easily see how it was just the latest front in a wide-ranging war for the hearts and souls of America's families. She scrolled down to the comments:

"Anonymous: A great story! It takes a strong man to welcome back a regretful wife! 5*!"

"VALiant: A well-deserved reconciliation! Can't wait to see more!"

"SolAnnoyed: I'm not usually a RAAC fan, but this one was well-earned! 5*!"

Janice scrolled down, seeing comments from the rest of the cell. Sure, there were a few "Cuck Shit 1*," but it was clear that the general trend was toward forgiveness. She grimaced.

Using her new Literotica handle, she left a comment of her own:

"The_Truth_Is_Out_There: Femdom Agitprop. No stars."

With one last look, she hit send and went upstairs to join her husband in bed.