A watershed cross examination by a powerful female attorney changes the
status of the male on a global scale.
It was quite the media spectacle. Television cameras whirred as I was led
into the courtroom, with each lens attempting to outposition the other for
the best shot as I shuffled past them. My naked body was trussed up in a
manner befitting a violent, dangerous criminal, my arms shackled securely to
a wide belt encircling my waist and my ankles fastened neatly together with
leg irons on a short chain. Several female police officers carved out an
entrance for me through the throng from the van to the courthouse and a
woman bailiff held each arm to escort me on my slow walk to my destination.
The public humiliation was part of a greater plan, and I could infer the
significance of it. Since the plague of 2017, colloquially called the “Y
chromosome plague” since it killed four fifths of the world’s men, the women
who had assumed the reins of power by default had been aggressively
deflating the status of the male on a global scale. First were the
“emergency measures” revoking all drivers’ licenses issued to men,
ostensibly to minimize the chances that any remaining males would be killed
in traffic mishaps. Next came statutes nullifying a man’s right to vote,
own property, sign contracts or serve on juries while the male population
“healed.” These events paralleled the emergence of a significant radical
female movement, which openly called for the subjugation of men.
With the passage of the recent “male management” laws, those of us who have
assembled and fought the blatant repression heaped upon our minority gender
have fallen prey to a vendetta pursued vigorously by the women who have come
to control the governments of the world. My trial, although technically
being convened to determine my guilt or innocence of the crime of rape, is
now symbolic both of our struggle and the attempts of the female population
to grind their spiked heels into our collective crotches. My naked shuffle
to the courthouse was humiliating, but it was symbolic of the freedom that
all men now longed for.
In our world, rape is not defined exclusively as an unwanted sexual attack
as it was in our grandparents’ day. While that definition of rape is still
valid, a much more common application of the law comes into play when a man
violates the new “attitude” clause when interacting with a woman. In other
words, it is now illegal, and may be interpreted as rape, for a man to gaze
upon a woman with “prurient”, or sexual, intent. Since any direct gaze may
be interpreted as a “prurient” gaze and upheld by the courts as a rape
conviction, most men generally spend their days with their eyes cast down to
avoid the probing eyes of females, who try to taunt them into looking up.
My arrest came to pass when I deliberately met the penetrating gaze of a
young woman in a moment of personal rebellion. The response from the police
was swift and sure, with two women officers throwing me to the ground,
cuffing and blindfolding me so that I could not “rape” anyone else, and
promptly transporting me to jail. I have been in custody ever since,
charged with a crime that carries a mandatory life sentence and castration.
The reason for the media hype was simple; today was the day that I was
scheduled to be cross-examined by the state. I had testified on my own
behalf the day before, with my own attorney asking a series of surprisingly
passive, dispassionate queries about my attitudes towards women. Although I
swore that I had never harbored any inappropriate sexual intentions towards
women, the all-female jury seemed largely unimpressed and even bored with my
discourse.
Today’s events would no doubt be different. The prosecutor had requested,
and the judge granted, permission to have me stripped naked in open court
for my testimony. Her intent, besides the obvious specter of public
humiliation, was to subject me to a demonstration that would prove the
necessity of “male management” laws by example both to the jury and a still
somewhat skeptical public. The waist and ankle restraints confining my
naked body were supposedly for my own protection during the demonstration,
but served as a significant psychological tool for the prosecutor.
All eyes were riveted to me as I was finally escorted into the courtroom.
I was not seated in a witness chair, but rather directed to stand in the
exact center of the room, in full view of the jury, judge, and both teams of
attorneys. A video camera was trained squarely on me to record my live
testimony for a global television audience. I was flanked on both sides by
armed bailiffs, powerful yet protective women who each held one of my arms
to help me maintain my balance during the ordeal I was about to endure.
The judge took her seat on the bench, glancing first towards me and then
the prosecutor. “Are we ready to begin, counselor?”
“Yes, your honor,” The prosecutor gathered together some papers on a
lectern looking me squarely and sternly in the eye. I compulsively glanced
away in deference and saw her smile slightly. She was an attractive,
professionally dressed woman of about thirty. She was of medium height and
build with ample breasts and honey colored shoulder length hair. She wore
a burgundy blazer and a mid-thigh length black miniskirt with a white
…End of the part1. To be continued..