Feminist No More [RP w/Brek]

[FormerTomBoy]

As a leader of a movement and author, I've spoken in Washington D.C. and while that can be a great experience, I still enjoy the more intimate speaking engagements in less formal settings. Today, I'm out promoting the movement and my latest book, Feminism for the Next Generation. It is a guide of sorts for the younger men and women who will carry on the movement into the future. They will have to deal with forms of evil from A.I. and within society. My hope is that my knowledge of the past and predictions of the future will be enough to empower the younger minds that have kept the movement afloat in trying times.

The Texas Hill Country is a far off place for feminism, but it's wine country has always been one of my favorite destinations. We couldn't get a permit to offer wine during my event, but it is just across the street, if anybody wants to have a drink. A dozen of my VIP guests and myself took a private massage and yoga session earlier and now I'm ready to speak up to show them that we can continue to lead the movement for equality and human rights for every person in the world. I spoke non stop for forty minutes and am now taking some questions or letting guests speak their minds.

"Don't be shy. What does the only man who hasn't yet walked out to try free wine across the street think of our movement?" I direct my statement to you, the only man left out of three from the beginning and one of the three works for the business hosting us tonight. You are now surrounded by about two dozen to three dozen women. I have no idea how you managed to last as I usually scare men away or have to ask them to leave for being in the wrong place.

"You came to the wrong place," some random woman accuses. I don't say anything. "Let him speak. Then we can throw him out," another woman spoke up. "No, let's give him a chance. I'm sure not all men are creeps?" I say with some doubt in my voice. My name is Lizbeth Saunders. Anyone whose read my book would know that. I'm 38 and a proud feminist.

[Brek]

I have been a critic of your work for some time, but as I have a security consultant gig, I have mostly done so under anonymous sock puppet accounts. Since I am at your event, having already spent the requisite money to get VIP access let alone the additional donation I am using in order to accomplish my plan of getting close, I respond in a measured way.

"Well", I note, "I do agree that overt violence and misogyny is a problem and probably is on the rise. Incels are dangerous. However, I would argue that traditional masculinity has plenty of exemplars of duty and care that are sufficient to deal with the moral and social degeneracy of many of those in the manosphere who you criticize. In any case, empirically, the focus on women's autonomy and on ensuring they always have career aspirations has created a generation of women who miss out on opportunities that would enrich their lives like raising a family and being in a relationship where they do not always take the lead. And I think there is a real social crisis in the number of women who have decided to not take a risk on dating, which mostly means heterosexual women dating men, accepting a permanent level of discomfort. Marriage empirically is heavily associated with happiness, and yet we are allowing so many to not benefit from it, as well as society to not benefit from the linking of families and the increasing of the density of civil society that emerges as a result of networks of marriage. I would certainly agree with criticisms that too many men need to not be boys to facilitate that, but that can be solved by increasing male intelligence, class and control, not by undermining them, however unwittingly".

My voice is relaxed as I enjoy a malbec with notes of cherry, plum, basil and tobacco. It is clear that I have chosen my wine precisely, picking the vintage. My eyes seem utterly unintimidated, sweeping across women with sleeve tattoos and an array of professionalism in attire, but my eyes always coming back to you.

"Of course, I'd rather have the ability to have input than be a Monday morning quarterback", I nod and say. "So I've already donated $5000 to your 'Combating MIsogyny and Bias in AI Research' initiative, as I think it is of species-level concern to have properly calibrated artificial intelligence. And, no, I'm not a Roko's basilisk type, but given how even peer-reviewed science is coming to use AI for new insights, I agree it should be effective at it".

[FormerTomBoy]

"Anyone know where to get more men like him?" I ask with tone of sarcasm once your intro and statement filtered through the audience and myself. "Didn't read off a phone screen. Spoke to us from heart and didn't sound fake. I assure you, I didn't hire him to speak to us. Though I feel like he earned 1% of my fee just now," I pause to clap for you. "Put down your hand. He took up your time. You get first response, if you come to next one okay!" I address a Chinese American woman whose in the front row rocking a polo shirt.

In a few more minutes, I have come to find you. "Welcome, I can tell you are a first timer and really put in time to make good first impression. Nice way of maintaining eye contact," I notice you staring at my eyes and can see the color of your eyes as well. I have no clue you are truly a man I should fear and that I will regret having introduced myself and my true followers to you within the next 100 days of my life. I don't usually care how my physical appearance is judged, but I do tend to spend one or two hours getting ready whenever I will be out in public.

As a public figure it is almost a handicap because I truly don't enjoy having to share how I look with the public in such a manner. I'm also the first to jump and attack some other public figures when I feel they don't support feminism. Though I try to do it tastefully and without ruining my own reputation as a upstanding member of the feminist community. "Are you from this region of Texas?" I make my first personal inquiry as I attempt to find the fraud within you. I don't really believe you are a feminist minded man. My heels allow me to stand shoulder to shoulder with you as I anticipate catching your eyes dropping down to my chest.

[Brek]

I am surprised that it worked that well. I was hedging my bets quite a bit. I still needed to look skeptical (not totally sold on your perspective) yet nuanced. I had to keep the bait looking compelling without pulling it away too quickly. Of course, it was easy enough to make that argument. It's quite simple for me to lie. I nod and take a sip, moving back while there are mutters about me from the other women.

When you approach, I can't help but let my eyes sweep over you when you aren't aware. I am confident enough to keep eye contact. I know who I am and what I want, and it is to punish this bitch. Openly mentioning the eye contact comes off as a kind of backhanded compliment, even a potential misandrist microaggression, but I smile. I say, "Well, I like to have a diverse portfolio of donations and I like to hear different thoughts. It's been fascinating".

I shake my head and say, "No, I come from rural California. A lot of my business work is in San Antonio and Austin. I like the area, though. Reminds me of my beloved foothills". Of course, admitting to being from a red county in a blue state won't change your mind, but I speak plainly, trying to act as if I am either not getting or not indulging at the implication. "Went to college at Berkeley", I add.

[FormerTomBoy]

Men from red counties and men in general tend to receive most of my hatred. While, I'm openly bi-sexual, I do still prefer being with a man when I'm actively seeing someone. "Pleasure to meet you," I offer a hand for you to shake and know you will have to break eye contact in order to formally take my hand. I don't mind as you have been a perfect gentleman towards us.

"I won't hold that against you. It must be nice part of the state to call home. Not to warm, experience more of the seasons and still close enough to visit the beach whenever you feel like walking in the sand!" I offer my thoughts and keep a firm hand as we shake hands. "I also won't hold Berkeley against you. I did apply to Cal, but Penn State was my calling!" I blush as I speak of where I went to college.

"Have you received your VIP welcome packet? The yoga class was limited to long time followers, but if you ever want to join us bring a girlfriend or partner with you!" I open up more about what details are reserved for my most devoted followers as I also lead you over to meet the woman in charge of the VIP memberships to make sure you've been treated to all that comes with the higher level of support.

She is a woman with short colored hair. Some might say she wears her sexuality openly as she is a diehard lesbian. Today, her hair is pink with streaks of purple. The soundtrack has been Paramore as she is also my event DJ. I leave you in her hands as I continue with the unformal meet and greets.

"Name and phone number so she can look you up on the system!" I suggest and leave you with Spencer.

[Brek]

Managing to keep the combination of lust and rage at bay under my practiced exterior, I shook back, calmly but at least seemingly cordially. I don't actually break eye contact to do so: I have good proprioception and keen vision, and the peripheral is enough for me to do so.

"I couldn't have put it any better", I reply. "So, went to one Division One school rather than another, then?" Teasing a bit of sports rivalry I suspect you probably don't have much concern about lets me continue to seem casual as you continue to try to gather information.

Pointing to a folder and box, I nod and say, "Indeed. My flexibility is just fine for the moment. And I likely won't be bringing a girlfriend by any time soon: I am single". Because of bitches like you, I think, the venom entirely remaining sequestered in its fangs.

I give her my name, "Brek Kagari", and my number. Any background check you may decide on will come off squeaky clean: I've managed to stay anonymous in my criticism. I quickly move through Spencer's elements and then leave quietly. I have an ability to slink away in a fashion that leaves behind a hole without being too obtrusive. As I leave, I move around, gathering information using an RFID and radio scanner, and manage to put a USB drive into a computer on the network.

Returning home, I communicate back to the private Discord about what I got from meeting you. That included some actionable information that I could easily blame on the randos who had shown up even if you or one of your associates investigated carefully. Godpill88 replied, "Great. With this I'll be able to hit her private e-mail and send her a threat".

That night, you get an e-mail from a clear burner account to a private e-mail.

"Lizbeth:

Keep those gray eyes looking behind you. I'm following you. I know what hotel you're at. Keep up your degenerate attack on Western culture and we'll make sure you're raped. But I can be bought off. Send me those pink panties you were wearing at your book signing and I'll send you $1000".

I smile when he shows me the draft. Perfect. Continue to keep your eyes off of me.

[FormerTomBoy]

I know very little when it came to college athletics and once you were left alone with Spencer, I move back to talking about issues that I knew about. Spencer completed your enrollment in the VIP guest program. The welcome email will include a list of all protest sanctioned by me and a star indicated when I was planning to be present. The next protest with a star notation was a counter protest in San Diego where Riley Gaines was scheduled to speak. Then there was a bigger one set for Nashville that I would lead against the extreme right laws the state was putting in place.

When the next threatening email arrived in my account inbox, Spencer was still up to intercept it. She found the grey eyes comment interesting as nobody had ever accused me of having grey eyes as they were green. It was common for threats to say they knew where I was staying. Spencer didn't alert me this time. I was in bed and nothing woke me up. "Donations look good. What's wrong?" I ask Spencer during our trip out of Texas the next afternoon.

She showed me a couple threats that came in since the event ended last night. "$1,000 to buy my panties and safety. Insulting and cheap," I remark to her. "My girlfriend left me because of you. I hope you and your team die in a crash," I read the other threat. "Don't worry, they only want to hurt me. I don't think you have to worry, but if you want you can fly on another plane sometimes. I don't mind," I try to comfort Spencer. She is a proud lesbian and has never been with a man.

Once I'm back home, I review photos and videos from the great event in Texas and share some of them on social media. One video clip was you speaking about stuff I rarely hear a man speak. Only your voice was captured in the video. I leave a comment that I hope to support a man's feminist club by the end of the decade. Some comments by others are deleted because we found them to be unworthy of being left on our platform pages.

Day before I counter protest Riley, I send a group email to the VIP guests list. "I'm in San Diego. Who will be joining us to counter Riley? She is the only woman I think deserves hate in this world!" the email includes some details on how to organize in the afternoon and links to Riley's page so we can follow her progress leading up to her event.

[Brek]

We see the e-mail from you. With a little spoofed e-mail from another minor person on the e-mail list, we can push you to implying that she should be raped. It's joking, but it's something that can be leaked out with just enough relevant context to be massively damning. We chuckle at that. It starts on the dark web and the chan boards, but soon it will be out there. We also capture the comments you delete, using them to paint you as censorious.

Of course, I am using my fellow incels here. They are just a tool to get you isolated.

In the lead-up to the Riley protest, there is a meeting that ends up getting raided by men in hoodies throwing dildos marked with SLUT and BITCH with spray paint. In the fracas, before the cops arrive, Spencer gets a black eye from one that hits her at an angle. It creates a very minor break of her ocular bone which just needs a cold compression, but it also breaks her nose. Her doctor tells her that she needs to stay in with a humidity-controlled environment on antibiotics to avoid infection. We've managed to isolate you from your key sidekick, someone who would keep track of you. I know she keeps track of you on a tracking app and is the only one you trust, so we divert that data, giving her false information.

Leading up to the protest, I e-mail you.

"LIsbeth:

Thanks so much for posting my comments. I was worried you would object but I'm glad we could agree on a lot. I heard about what happened to Spencer. So sorry. I'm happy to attend in her stead. I assume you won't let yourself be censored by the mob?"

At the same time, we are working with the cops to make sure to arrive at just the right time with an agent provocateur intensifying the protest to a riot...

[FormerTomBoy]

It happened suddenly, I still don't understand the full impact of the raid by those who oppose our views and likely support Riley. When the police responded, things seemed to get even worse because they aren't exactly the people we want coming to our rescue. Spencer and a few other volunteers are hospitalized. Spencer's nose will take time to heal. One volunteer suffered a bruised groin when someone kneed her between her legs. She was transitioning into becoming a woman. Another volunteer took a couple dildos to the head as she had turned her face at the last second. Her ear needed stitches and she was also stepped on when she fell down.

I managed to hide under a table with a few others, but did get some paint in my hair when someone sprayed us with a can of paint. When I was showering later that night, I had to leave the paint in my hair as it was in a spot where a haircut wouldn't even help me. Soon I was moving on from the cancelled counter protest and tending to Spencer who had sunk into a depression over the damage to her face and mind. Someone had also leaked a sex tape Spencer and a ex-girlfriend had once made. Her ex was a up and coming conservative state level politician, but now she was on her way to losing the next election for being a closet lesbian.

I see your email among other emails. I can't respond to everyone and for the moment, I don't even respond to your email. When I'm confronted by a journalist over comments I never said in a public setting, I have to lawyer up to protect myself from legal action from Riley Gaines. Then my silence is met with some creative deep fake AI porn. It was me raping Riley with a dildo in swimming pool. Riley even trolled me by asking if I knew how to swim. When the day of our organized Nashville protest arrives, I'm helping to hand out some of the items we usually carry when we protest.

"Hi, Brek!" I spot you. "Long way from home? Thanks for resisting the threats and courage to support us!" I hand you a radio and whistle. They are items that could help us when we get in trouble. "Are you armed?" I ask. "I usually have to ask you to disarm, but I don't mind if some of you stay armed. We need to fight fire with fire sometimes!" I reveal how I don't care if my followers use violence for our cause. I also don't know that I will lose my freedom soon and not from being arrested by the police.

[Brek]

The lack of an e-mail response puts me of two minds. My calculating mind notes that this is likely very good. My nerves are slightly elevated because I would be, if you had time to really address it and do a security breakdown, a reasonably good suspect, even with all my effort to create patsies and to disguise influence, and so your lack of response could be because I was made. But I'd find out at the protest, where I'd approach carefully, my drone making sure that there were no police set to arrest me or someone set to serve me papers. Still, I was fairly confident that you had other things to worry about. But the part of me that knows that you belong to me and you just are too ungrateful of a bitch to know it yet is seething. How dare you not get back to me. How dare you not be my priority.

Oh well. You'd learn your place and be disciplined later.

Arriving in hiking boots, flexible jeans, and a red polo shirt, carrying two guns (one in a boot holster and one in a high hip holster), stungun, pepper spray and a knife, my concealed carry permit firmly on me, with my abduction kit in the truck in a private parking lot whose owner owes me a favor, I walk confidently, betraying not an ounce of my few trepidations. When you approach me, I know I have succeeded. Everything else will be academic now. My drone is continuing to send me information. Women look at me with a combination of suspicion and relief: A white man looking like a local boy will help if he is sticking around. I beam in my smile and say, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, Lisbeth. So sorry to hear about Spencer - I hope she's recovering well. But I won't be intimidated". When you ask, I lean forward and whisper, "Of course. You think a Northern California boy isn't armed? Desert Eagle .45, pepper spray, .38 caliber semi-automatic, knife, stungun. Concealed carry for all of it. Wish I had my telescoping baton and shield". I think about what you'd look like with the baton up your pussy or ass.

You seem to be trusting me enough for me to stick around you, especially given your security concerns. My initial plan was to go to one of the peripheries and wait for the moment, but now, I can just be patient. I look out at the police around the edges of the protest, reassuring you. "They look calm. I made sure to call the Chief of Police and tell him that this should be handled carefully". Of course, when my friend stirred things up, that would just better my condition. I then take a slight risk and say, "My truck is in a side lot used for business. If we get separated, meet me there". Of course, I know we won't, but I want to give you a sense of reassurance, as well as justify me looking at the side alley I have planned to take you through, which goes through a basement that I have a key to.