"In what has been dubbed as 'The Sexual Acts' by government critics and pundits alike, in the dead of night the ruling Socialust Party enacted a bill further restricting male rights to sex and reproduction. As per the Acts, males are forbidden from proposing sexual intercourse outside of government-sanctioned places; meanwhile, not only are females exempt from rape charges against males, but they may initiate coitus in public with no fear of punishment."

The image crackles as NewsNet's anchor Kris 'Bubbles' Bauchou welcomes in Mark Sommers, who is wearing a simple blue shirt, a neat haircut, and that mean smile of someone who knows his shit. I can't wait to see what he has got to say about this.

"For the last couple of months, I've been warning the great men and women of our nation to brace themselves for bad news. Well, today we have some more. However, it isn't all bad news. There are plenty of positives to take away from these new laws: the Socialust Party is done playing and is now finally comfortable to show its true colors—that of an oppressive regime which cares nothing for men rights, and whose sole aim is to keep us in check, and under their thumb, whether it be by legislation or by enforcing the law."

I gulp hard at Mark's words. The barrage continues: "What we have here is more proof that the Socialust Party doesn't care about the average man, and their focus is keeping us on a leash. No longer do we need to worry about being falsely accused of rape or sexual harassment: it'll soon become an instant conviction if the female decides she wants to get her rocks off. And if you are keeping yourself for marriage, well, you better watch your step, lest a horny bitch decides to grab you and fuck you right there in the street. Yes, ladies, this means that even if you don't know that man, you can still do so with impunity, without consent nor care for the male counterpart. The question remains though, why do they care so much? Why does the government seem hell bent into making our lives miserable?"

I almost choke with excitement as Mark's voice fills my living room speakers. "Now, I don't want to sound conspiratorial, but what good comes from controlling reproduction rights? What is Socialust's master plan here? Well, I have the answer. The Socialust Party is doing this for one simple reason."

The camera zooms into Mark's face, beckoning me forward to the screen. He looks pissed off as all hell—and rightfully so. He represents people like me, and we are angry. Really, really fucking angry.

"Because they're scared we know the truth. They know that if men have easy access to sex, their secret succubus degeneracy ring will come tumbling down. And for this reason, the Socialust Party will go to any lengths to protect itself and its puppet masters, the globalist cabal of hell." With a sudden zoom out, the camera shows Mark reach for his small wooden club—God, he really is going all out today. His face is visibly redder with anger. Mark grips the club tightly in his callous hand and hits the table with loud thuds punctuating every syllable for emphasis. "They are demons! Literal demons!"

I knew it, I fucking knew it! They are all fucking demons! Just like I suspected, they've been hiding behind a mask of morality, and using it to manipulate us, to keep us docile and subservient. All this time, fools thought that the Socialust Party cared about our welfare, that they were fighting for our rights and freedoms. But the truth was far different than imagined. The reality is that they were trying to infiltrate our human society and destroy us from the inside.

I'm going to enjoy watching Mark take these motherfuckers down.

With a pained sigh, Mark drops the club. The camera zooms back into a tight shot of his face—the face of the oppressed folk, the voice of the voiceless men. "We cannot let them win. We must fight back, and we must never stop fighting until we save our sons, and daughters, and brothers, and sisters from the clutches of this evil cabal, once and for all!"

The screen fades to black with the end of his segment, leading into the mandated propaganda for the Socialust Party, the irony meant to further inflame the viewers. Being aware of the tricks used by the media doesn't make me invulnerable to them, especially when I already fully agree with the message. Mark Sommer's words are the gospel truth. The cabal is out to enslave us, and it's up to us to end the tyranny. Now that I am aware of the threat, it's easier to accept the fact that a war between men and women is inevitable.

Thankfully, a noble and kind man like me has been enlightened early on to the political and social decadence of today, and thus has been preparing appropriately. Self-defense courses, above average body weight, and a resilient mind are key components of survival in this fight, but my biggest weapon has yet to come into fruition. As a soon-to-be thirty years old celibate man, I'm inching ever closer to the day when I will finally gain entry to the world of magical arts.

And on that glorious day, I will bring justice upon the scum who's been exploiting the innocent and naïve to appease their succubi puppeteers. To fall the demon junta and its sementhirsty puppets and free my fellow men from the shackles of oppression and womanhood is my quest and divine mission.

But first, I must survive for another three months of celibacy, or else my latent magical powers won't ever surface, and I'll never be able to use my skills to help the cause. This is my Herculean burden to bear, and I embrace it.

For Men.

***

After the show, I step out of the house, feeling a little lighter and motivated as ever. I take a deep breath of fresh air, letting the crisp spring wind run through my thinning hair. Only three more months until it all comes crumbling down. I wish I could spend those remaining days locked inside, but alas, the sacred drink won't be bought by itself. Delivery is not an option either—I cannot trust the cabal not to poison my order. So, I must continue with my daily routine and hope that the dark clouds don't bring any rain.

The strenuous walk to the convenience store is an exercise in mental fortitude. I must endure three more weeks of celibacy before I can unleash my dormant powers. How many times have I told myself this? One hundred? Two hundred? Not enough, I wager.

Three city blocks later, I find myself standing outside a well-known chain store. The shop is crowded as always, but I am only interested in a single item: the six-pack of G Fuel.

My thoughts drift back to the television show earlier when Mark Sommer warned about the cabal's nefarious motives. I can't believe that we are ruled by demons, and yet fools pretend everything is fine. When will the population wake up to the truth about these wicked creatures? Maybe if we were all forced to partake in G Fuel, the cabal would be exposed for what it truly is. Alas, such a thing is impossible; normal humans are too weak to handle the raw energy of this celestial nectar. I should—and do—know because I'm almost ascended. Mark Sommer told me so one night.

A young woman seemingly in her early twenties approaches me, and my mind shifts into defensive mode. While women may prove useful allies against the cabal, for now they are at best unwilling adversaries, and at worst demonic vixen that prey on men. "Excuse me, mister?" she says in a cheerful tone, but I can tell it's not natural, but product of many years of arduous training. "Can I help you with anything?" she asks politely, but her eyes betray a hidden agenda. I can read it in her stance, the set of her jaw, and the way she holds herself. The uniform would suggest she is a store clerk, but my keen eyes can easily see through this deception. She's a succubus. That's why she's so cheerful. She knows what she wants, and I mustn't give it to her.

"No, no, I'm fine. I already have what I need."

"Only energy drinks? You know, mister, they aren't healthy for you!" The girl giggles at her own joke, but I'm not amused. "If that's all, I can check you out. Just follow me."

No way I'm following you anywhere, demon. I'm not a fool, nor am I weak. I'll go through the self-checkout kiosk and leave as fast as possible. "Thank you, but I'm fine," I say firmly, forcing a smile on my face.

The succubus doesn't budge, however. With pleading eyes, she takes a step forward, coming too close for a normal human being. Is she going to attack me? Will she reveal her form in front of everyone and kill me, her arch enemy? Or will she force herself onto me, like the cruel demon she is, and deprive me of magic? If I must go down, I much prefer the former over live in shame for the rest of my life with the latter. My body is covered in protective armor cultivated by years of a meticulously crafted high lipid diet—but it might not be strong enough to repel the succubus' overwhelming strength.

"But mister, the line is long. Let me