The New Order (extended video) (Patreon)

It all started a few years ago, and every day since has felt like a waking nightmare. The world has changed—drastically and irreversibly. Women are no longer the gentler, softer half of the population. They’ve transformed into towering, muscular giants, and men like me… well, we’re nothing more than toys in their eyes. Tools to be used. Servants to be commanded. And there’s nothing we can do about it.

My sister was the first to change in my family. I came over to visit one day, and there she was—easily twice my size, her shoulders barely fitting through the doorframe. She smirked when she saw me, ruffled my hair like I was a child, and carried me across the yard like a sack of flour just to prove she could. My mom isn’t much better. Once soft-spoken and gentle, she now barks orders with arms so massive they could crush me in an instant. I can’t even meet her gaze anymore—it’s too humiliating.

Even the kids aren’t exempt. My 13-year-old daughter’s best friend came over the other day, and out of nowhere, she grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me into the air with one hand. She laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “You’re so light, Mr. Johnson,” she said, holding me up like I was a toy. I tried to laugh it off, but inside, I was shaking. What can you do when even children are stronger than you?

Work isn’t an escape—if anything, it’s worse. The office is entirely run by women now, and they’ve made it abundantly clear where men stand in this new order. We’re expected to do everything: coffee runs, cleaning up, paperwork, and yes, even “personal favors.” Refusal? That’s not an option. One guy tried to argue with our boss last month, and he didn’t show up the next day. No one knows what happened to him, but no one’s willing to ask, either. The message was loud and clear.

And then there’s my wife. Once, we were equals. Now, she’s the undisputed queen of the household, and I’m her servant. I work full-time just to pay the bills, clean the house, and prepare her meals. If dinner isn’t on the table by the time she gets back from her gym session, I know I’ll regret it. The other night, she casually flexed her arm in front of me, her bicep swelling to a size I didn’t even think was humanly possible. “This is your life now,” she said, smirking as I stammered in awe. “Obey and worship, or else.”

And that’s exactly what I do. I obey. I worship. I try not to step out of line, because stepping out of line means consequences, and no man wants to face those.

Everywhere I go, it’s the same story. The world isn’t ours anymore. We’re outmatched in every way—strength, size, and authority. Women have taken over, and there’s no going back. I used to think I had some dignity left, but that’s gone now. All I can do is survive, keep my head down, and pray I don’t attract the wrong kind of attention. This is the new reality. And the scariest part? I’m not sure anyone even remembers what the old one was like.