For any of those that had been following my very slow writing of The Fall of Women’s Rights in the USA, it has been published and is now on sale! CLICK HERE to purchase in your favorite format, be it whatever mobile reader you use, or a simple DOC file to read on your computer. Get it now for the temporary price of $4!
Beginning nearly forty years in the future, when the United States is stricken by economic woes and no amount of politicking can hide the fact that the number of jobs simply does not equal the number of people unemployed, one man comes to the forefront with a seemingly innocent idea. Over the course of events, this man’s simple plan will lead to the complete and utter loss of women’s rights.
Following a distressingly plausible timeline of events leading up to the loss of women’s rights, tag along with Stephanie, an introverted, independently wealthy, single young woman, in what is quite possibly the worst time in United States history to be unwed, as she is plunged head-first into the reality that women no longer have any rights at all. She will watch as the country around her changes shape, as women riot, and men are given special rights with which to contain them. And she will experience her own containment.
My name is Stephanie Wallace. For most of my life, I lived in a small community outside of Charleston, South Carolina. I was a single woman of 26 years, a rarity in 2055.
My parents were killed in a car wreck when I was seventeen, but their life insurance paid out well, so I was never forced to marry or associate myself with a man. It’s not that I didn’t want to, necessarily, but more that I never saw a need. In fact, I’d only had sex once before, and I’d found it to be sort of boring. This may have had something to do with the fact that the guy that I happened to be with at the time was a virgin as well, though he certainly didn’t tell me that or act like it until we were already doing the deed. The result was that he broke my cherry and promptly made sweet love to my inner thigh. As I was sort of drunk at the time, I didn’t even remember who he was.
When my parents died, it messed me up pretty badly. At the time, I was very straight laced and pretty close to my mom. With both of them gone, I didn’t see much point in working at anything. Succeeding at school or preparing for college suddenly seemed like very hollow goals, now that there was no one there to cheer me on. There was no point. The whole time I was growing up, I’d apparently been succeeding at life simply to make my parents happy, though I hadn’t known it then.
I had a few years of stupidity, but I’ve always been anti-social, so drinking and getting drunk with the few friends that I had was pretty much my limit.
It didn’t take long, though, before I’d gotten tired of the party scene. The hangovers and drama from not sleeping with every friend’s male friend got old pretty quickly.
Why is it that all women think that their single friends are really sex crazed maniacs that just haven’t found the right guy, who happens to be in the directory of their cell phone, under the listing “desperate?”
Eventually, I just retreated to my home in the hills outside of town and stopped going anywhere. I didn’t really ignore anyone, and often I’d invite some of my girlfriends over to hang out, but it seemed it just wasn’t interesting to them if there weren’t guys to stare at their ass or down their cleavage.
So, I slid back into nerdom and, honestly, I was happier that way. I built up an immense collection of books, had lots of friends online, and even dabbled in some gaming.
Yes, I was the elusive gamer chick that wasn’t fugly, though I’ve always been a bit chubbier than I would’ve liked, and maybe a little too tall to be considered “pretty” by most.
More and more, though, with the entire social climate of the country changing so quickly, I began to notice that once it was found out that I was female, I’d be treated completely differently. I started pretending to be a guy, but that wore thin pretty quickly, and it didn’t take long before I decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.
As time went on, it became more and more socially unacceptable for a woman to be single at all, in any form. Social networks would include “Name of Husband or Caretaker” as a required field during sign up. It was expected that, if you were a woman, you had one, and would want to talk about him.
Lesbian and gay couples did exist, of course, but most of them had already moved to the “Equal States”, whose agendas were largely ignored by the rest of the country. Even if I was interested in that sort of arrangement, which I wasn’t, finding information on the web was nearly impossible. And if it wasn’t on the web, it didn’t exist, at least not to me.
Then, Marla Redcroft, would be female president, hit the scene. Suddenly there was a mass exodus from every website, every club, every social gathering of any type to a “girls only” type environment.
To my knowledge, she never preached any kind of violence or sexual superiority. Women, however, who were equals only a few years before and were feeling extremely repressed, heard only what they wanted to hear.
I’ll be the first to admit that if a woman, be it Redcroft or any other, would’ve been elected president, it would’ve been bad. The self-righteous entitlement that was sweeping through the country’s female population was ridiculous. It’s like they thought men owed them some sort of reparations for some reason and that, once elected,Redcroft was going to make men pay. I have no idea what they thought was owed to them, but that was neither here nor there.
There were theories that stated that those feelings weren’t really very widespread, and that it was primarily propaganda being passed around by members of the Equal States. I was hardly in the position to know one way or the other, but it was obvious that Redcroft’s arrival in the public eye was a catalyst for a lot of pent up rage, justified or not. If members of the ESA (Equal States of America) were involved, I’m pretty sure the reaction they got was exactly the opposite of what they were looking for.
On the day the news broke, I had made the mistake of coming into town to buy some groceries, and was in the store when the report hit the air waves. The old man who ran the store had a small TV on his counter that he kept tuned to the news. According to the reporter, the announcement was not unexpected. Women throughout the country, who had been seething in anger as they awaited the inevitable reports, had begun rioting. I had no thoughts of joining in but I had an excellent view from the grocery store’s large window looking out onto the busy street.
Women, who had done their best to make men happy, by dressing as men liked to see them and being submissive, were now outside throwing rocks at police cars and screaming obscenities. Our final salvation was to be the removal of Daniel LaThorn from office but, with no right to vote, we no longer had that recourse.
Personally, I was still torn. No doubt, the country would’ve shaken itself apart had a woman been elected president, regardless of her actions. Men, those who held the power in every way, would never accept her. Removing our right to vote, though, was an awfully harsh way to handle the situation. The government had basically verified what all of the feminists had been warning – that we were becoming second rate citizens.
A single SWAT van moved slowly down the street, and I heard the eerie humming sounds of the new military debilitators being activated. I’d heard horror stories of the big, bullhorn-looking devices, one of which was visibly attached to the top of that particular van, being used on peaceful protesters in the months prior, but had not actually seen one, nor did I know exactly what it did.
All of the rioters, the vast majority of them women, fell to the ground, twitching, temporarily suffering from sound wave induced seizures. Some were bleeding from the nose, their eyes open, obviously still conscious, but disabled. I and the others in the store, as well as anyone in a vehicle or much of anything that would stop or distort sound waves, were protected from the effects, if not the sights.
I watched, in horror, as men in vehicles stopped and picked up women off the street, throwing them in to car trunks, back seats, and pick-up beds. I didn’t want to think about what they were going to do to them, and it seemed the local policemen that were arriving on the scene were just happy to have the women off the street. I’d never before seen a more literal example of law officials looking the other way. Most of the cops remained in their squad cars, serving only to slow traffic so that those who were in the road would not simply be run over by some extremely unobservant driver. No one was denied access to the road full of helpless women, and no one was questioned about their manhandling of what was likely complete strangers.
Once everyone that wasn’t a cop was laying on the ground, the SWAT van drove away, its job apparently finished. After waiting a few minutes for the abductions to trickle down to a minimum, the police quickly arrested those few who were still twitching in the road, and dispersed, presumably headed to other areas that were in similar chaos.