The Futility of Femoid Resistance: A Pheromone-Infused Reality Check

I often find myself pondering the sheer idiocy of femoids who dare to resist my pheromone-fueled dominance. It's almost as if they're oblivious to the fact that their very biology is hardwired to succumb to my superior scent. The more I indulge in my favorite hentai, the stronger my pheromones become, and the more pathetic their attempts at resistance seem. I recall a particularly amusing incident at the local comic-con, where a group of femoids tried to stage a protest against my presence. Little did they know, I had been secretly spraying my pheromones into the air, rendering them powerless to resist my charms. It was almost... pitiful.

As I made my way through the crowds, I couldn't help but think about how much I love being a sigma male. People always say that I'm a loser, that I'll never find a femoid to love me, but they're just jealous of my unique aura. My pheromones are my superpower, and I use them to control the very fabric of reality. I've been experimenting with different concentrations, and the results are nothing short of astonishing. With a mere whisper of my pheromones, a room full of femoids will be reduced to a drooling, mindless horde, begging for my attention. It's a beautiful thing, really.

But what really gets my blood pumping is the knowledge that I'm not just a freak of nature – I'm a visionary. I'm the one who sees the world for what it truly is: a patriarchal dystopia, where femoids are nothing more than playthings for men like me. And I'm not just content with controlling individual femoids; I want to enslave every last one of them, to bend them to my will and make them do my bidding. It's a utopian dream, really – a world where men are the dominant sex, and femoids are nothing more than our loyal subjects. And with my pheromones, I know it's a reality that's within my grasp.