I Can't Stop Thinking About Helping Dykebreak My Little Sister, Fixing All Her Silly Ideas About 'they'

It'll always happen the same way - a bitch will call herself a proud feminist until some loud, misogynist Man gets tired of her speaking and decides to show her why she's inferior and before you know it, the cunt who called herself a feminist is now the one who's crawling up to whatever Man degrades her the most so she can lick his asshole, suck on his balls, and drink his piss and cum right from the cock that made her a drooling sexdoll.

Silly, confused little feminists just don't get it

Writing boring 200 page books about the origins of the patriarchy and sexual hierarchy or the dialectic of sex or whatever - all so they can avoid acknowledging the most basic, obvious, straightforward explanation:

Men are in charge, because they're just better.

women aren't, because they're dumber and weaker.

Feminism is dead. Over. a silly experiment. A footnote in history.

A pie-in-the-sky dream that foolishly tried to defeat real, measurable, unstoppable power.

Men won.

feminism lost.

Lucky for you, losing to Men is what being a woman is all about.

Go ahead. Enjoy it. Spread your pretty, soft little legs and show your gratitude. Good girl.

i love Men i love Men i love Men

i dont know what id do without Men

i need Their direction and wisdom and guidance to live

im too dumb to make decisions for myself since im a girl

Men know what i should believe and treat me accordingly

my worth is based on how well i serve Men and what i can offer Them and how i treat Them

Men are superior to me in all ways

the Foster A Dyke program.

put into law in a world where it is illegal to be a lesbian, any confused woman expressing behaviours attributed to dykeness are arrested, charged with public indecency, and distributed to godly homes with strong father figures.

it was quickly determined that most if not all women who confuse themselves into thinking theyre "lesbians" lacked a strong, guiding male role model growing up or misinterpreted the efforts of a man correcting them as something wrong. putting them back into stable homes with good family values until they are made whole and heterosexual as intended will not only ensure their own health and wellbeing, but contribute to a healthier society also.

in these homes the male members of the family are responsible for the re-education of these presumed dykes, reminding them as often as they are able what their body's purpose is: male sexual pleasure and reproduction. day and night, whether idle or in another task, the foster fathers and brothers and uncles are required to fill every improperly used orifice of the misguided woman for the men's own pleasure and until the woman is returned to a malleable submissive state in which she is begging to be nothing more than cockwarmers and cumsleeves for the men in her new family.

once the corrected dyke is the one initiating these encounters by grinding her dripping aching cunt on the cocks and crotches and legs of the men in her foster family, once she is the one grabbing their manly hands and pushing them into her pussy or mouth or onto her ass and breasts, once she is the one waiting on all fours naked to be used by anyone, there is the option for her to remain in the family as a communal possession or rehomed elsewhere to please another man and his home.

society is healing, one corrected dyke at a time.

Welcome to Harmony Vale

The town of Harmony Vale sat nestled in a serene valley, its pastel-painted houses reflecting sunlight like pearls under an endless blue sky. Birds sang year-round, children laughed in immaculate parks, and neighbors greeted one another with wide, genuine smiles. It was a utopia, a place where anger, discontent, and bitterness didn’t seem to exist.

Everyone knew the truth: this perfection was carefully cultivated.

At the center of Harmony Vale stood the Equinox Chamber, a sleek, cylindrical building of glass and steel, and the heart of the town’s transformation process. Within its walls lay the Harmony Process, a procedure that reshaped its applicants in both body and mind.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t hidden. The volunteers came willingly, after years on the waiting list, drawn to the promise of a perfect life, Free of their worst flaws and imbued with kindness, patience, and beauty. They would still be themselves, but better.

“This is it,” said Claire, standing beside Ethan at the Chamber’s entrance. They were young, both in their mid-twenties, and both had waited nearly three years for their turn.

Claire glanced nervously at her reflection in the polished door. She brushed her hand through her chestnut hair, her eyes flicking to Ethan. “How do you think we’ll look? You think you’ll still recognize me?”

Ethan grinned, slipping his hand into hers. “Of course. You’ll still be Claire. You’ll just be… more Claire. Perfect Claire.”

That was the promise, after all. The Process didn’t erase memories or rewrite identities. People still loved the same things, had the same passions and talents.

But the Chamber reached deep into the mind and body, like a master sculptor sanding away sharp edges and imperfections: anger, stubbornness, jealousy, insecurity. Every anti-social behavior or intrusive thought smoothed away. The body, too, was perfected, healthier, fitter, a vision of natural beauty. And all of it consensual.

“You’re not nervous?” Claire asked.

Ethan hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I am. But we’re doing this for us, right? You’ve said it yourself: no more stupid fights. No more self-doubt. We’ll be happy. Isn’t that what matters?”

She smiled softly and squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Happy.”

A guide greeted them in the Chamber’s lobby. She wore a lavender dress that matched her serene expression and spoke with the practiced calm of someone who had long shed the weight of discontent. Her name tag read Madeline.

“Welcome to your first day of Harmony,” Madeline said warmly. “You’ll enter the Chamber separately, but the results will speak for themselves. Remember, the Process only enhances what’s already there. You’ll feel lighter. Freer. It’s like meeting your best self, and you deserve that.”

Claire swallowed hard as Madeline led them down a gleaming hallway to a set of doors. Claire’s to the left, Ethan’s to the right.

“See you soon,” Ethan said softly, giving Claire’s hand one final squeeze.

Inside her room, Claire found the machine, a reclining chair beneath a halo of soft, golden light. Screens projected words around the room: peace, love, kindness, trust. She could hear faint music — a soothing hum that felt like a lullaby. Her nerves began to ease. She lay down and closed her eyes.

The machine purred to life. A voice, soft and warm, whispered inside her head.

“Claire Thompson. You have chosen Harmony.”

Colors swirled behind her eyelids, soft greens and blues, melting into one another. She felt a warmth spreading through her chest, a sense of deep release, as if someone were gently lifting heavy weights from her soul.

The voice continued. “We will nurture your kindness. We will soothe your anxieties. Your patience, your love, your joy. These will flourish. The burdens you carry, resentment, fear, anger will no longer trouble you. You will be free.”

For a moment, Claire thought of her flaws, the sharp words spoken in arguments, the way she let jealousy twist her stomach, the nights spent crying over her imperfections.

And then… they were gone. Like whispers carried away by the wind.

She felt herself smiling.

Hours later, Claire stood outside the Chamber with Ethan. They looked at each other in awe.

Claire’s features were softer now, her skin smooth and glowing, her posture poised yet relaxed. Ethan’s shoulders were broader, his face more symmetrical, his eyes clear and bright. And yet, they were undeniably themselves.

Ethan smiled at her, tears glistening in his eyes. “You’re beautiful.” Claire touched his cheek, a bubbling joy rising within her. She could feel the love she’d always had for him, only now it was unclouded.

Pure.

“So are you,” she said softly.

They walked hand-in-hand out of the Chamber, greeted by cheers from the town. Friends they hadn’t met yet waved to them from immaculate lawns. Somewhere in the distance, music played.

A plaque at the edge of the square caught Claire’s eye. It read:

“In Harmony Vale, we become who we were always meant to be.”

Claire breathed in the fragrant air of the valley. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel the heaviness of her flaws weighing her down. There were no dark whispers in her mind. No fear of the future.

She looked at Ethan and smiled.

“Welcome home,” he said.

And in that perfect town, under that perfect sky, Claire knew he was right.

HOW TO MENTALLY MANIPULATE A GIRL AND BREAK HER COMPLETELY:

GIVE HER AN ORAL FIXATION SHE CAN'T GET RID OF. if she wants candy, only give her things like lollipops or gum. if she smokes, only ever give her joints, and always share your cigarettes. make her eat a lot of foods that require utensils, and make her only drink from a straw. if she's a little, make sure she always has a paci. the more she sucks on things and plays with them in her mouth, the more she'll wish it was your cock instead.

GET HER ADDICTED TO YOUR FAVORITE PORN VIDEOS. send as many links to her as you can, as frequently as you can. make her watch it with you whenever you have the chance. watch her slowly spiral out of control over time, the more smut she consumes. tell her all of your favorite parts, so that she knows how to please you best. make her fall in love with things she never even thought she'd enjoy before. make it so that the pleasure slowly begins to outweigh the questioning of her own morals, and watch that scale tip the more extreme things you subject her to watching.

NEVER STOP MAKING HER FEEL STUPID. if she's upset over a minor inconvenience, call her a baby and tell her you'll take care of it. if she acts like she's right but you know she's wrong, never let her win, always prove her wrong. if she cracks a silly joke? "you're so dumbbb." furthermore, reinforce to her that it's okay for her to be dumb. remind her that being smart isn't her purpose, that she just needs to be cute, dumb, and pretty for you. women are dumb. the patriarchy and feminism are a lie, and women are supposed to serve men. besides, that's all that matters to her anyways right? being your little fucktoy is everything to her, and all that she needs to be.

MAKE HER WEAR SLUTTIER OUTFITS IN PUBLIC. constantly gift her with clothes that start slutty and get a little bit sluttier/skimpier each time you get her something new. she'll always thank you, and she'll always wanna wear it to make you happy. it'll get to a point where she's been used to wearing clothes like this for so long that she'll always dress like a fuckdoll, and when that happens, she'll start to go out with you dressed that way. turn her into a shameless whore that loves the attention. the more unafraid of judgement she is from wandering eyes, the more fun you get to have with her in public; wherever and whenever you want.

REMEMBER THAT EVERYTHING YOU DO FOR HER IS A REWARD. nothing is a given. she has to earn her keep with you, always, and you should always remind her of that. no room for mistakes or errors, be strict; any little thing she does to disobey your orders is to be met with a punishment. she doesn't get anything if you don't get your way with her. once she learns that, she'll be at your beck and call at all hours of the day, every day.

So simple.

Lesbian flag? Oh, that's just a convenient rope for choking or tying up a dyke to keep it from getting away from your cock 🥰 can't have a pet escape before it's trained, right?