Putting the force in forcemasc

forcemasc as a concept exists as a sort of bizarro mirror to forcefem. forcefem in its original incarnation is about stripping someone's identity away and reducing them to a sexual object for someone's pleasure. it's "what if we did misogyny to men so intensely that they ceased to be men at all?" you are reduced to something framed as being intrinsically pathetic and degrading. the flip side of this isn't necessarily "what if we uplifted women until they weren't women anymore?" it would be "what if we applied coercive masculinity to women until they ceased to be women at all?" sometimes the fantasy of being loved as a real person instead of as a set of reproductive organs performing expected behaviors is nice. it's fluff. it's comforting. i don't mind the light stuff. but it's not sexy.

it trims your hair every day.

it orders boxers for you using your online shopping account. you don’t remember asking it, but they’re more comfortable, so you won’t scold your robot. it’s got a better memory than you.

it uses a short name for you so it can “save processing space…” you’re not sure why you feel such a joy over how masculine it comes off.

you start to wake up with the robot standing over you in bed every once in a while, and your upper leg always seems more sore after these days (you’ll later realize this seems to happen on almost a weekly basis).

it’s the first time it’s forgotten anything when your monthly razor refill doesn’t arrive in the mail, but you don’t really need to shave your legs, or the odd extra hairs cropping up on your chin.

the workout routines and meal plans it designs for you are a bit confusing; you’re used to so much more cardio, and you remember a calorie calculator saying a woman of your age shouldn’t eat as much (of course, you’re not a woman of your age). but you trust the robot.

- start wearing typically masculine clothing, like suits with wide shoulders

- people will tell you to not wear pinstripes because it'll make your chest and curves more obvious but think of it as a disguise to throw off their scent, like a zebra. it's urban camouflage

- start callin other men "boss" as a sign of respect

- always make sure to stay safe, keep a switchblade on you or a handgun or something

- consider your diet, work some carbs and fat in there for when T starts workin it's magic. im talkin pasta, pizza, lasagna

- tuck your hair up into a fedora if ya can't cut it

- remember to voice train, if you layer on an accent maybe it'll be less obvious, like a Brooklyn one if you're not already from there

- start snappin your rhythmically and intimidatingly when you find the poor bastard that owes the big man up top that several hundred grand who hasn't paid his dues yet. that'll show em who's the dominant man in the situation

- put a playlist of noir jazz music together and have it playing on your phone in your pocket so it follows you at all times, this is crucial to exuding masculine energy

also I like the way you write about things and your opinion holds weight in my little schema of internet influences and I’m definitely not writing a fanfic and want to get the concept of a roachy dude right

Well, first of all, I'm humbled that my opinion holds any weight at all. I'm flattered, thank you.

I haven't dug too deeply into what folks are doing with the idea outside of a couple of scene spaces I'm in, and even that is thin on the ground, so there's a (high) chance my perspective is skewed. That said, there are a few things that stand out to me about roachification.

It's transformation. Specifically, it's corruption or degradation; the kink is in the surrender of dignity and failing to live up to a standard the roach didn't choose. So it's decay, but it's not humiliation. It's freedom. Rebellion. Maybe even fate.

Like bimbofication, there's an element of giving up agency - though that can be to chemicals, porn, testosterone, a dirty dom, etc. That powerlessness - to the dom, or jerking off, or whatever it is - is pure hedonism. Enjoyment, not shame.

The societal standard is another key to the whole thing. There are lots of starting places for a roach, and that's half of the fun. A trans masc roach might be rejecting traditional standards of beauty, religious purity, academic or occupational expectations, or even just being weird and small and invisible. They become the opposite: ugly and dirty and useless and loud. This can explicitly be part of a transition journey, where masculinity makes the roach a dirtbag (forcemasc and roachification don't hold hands so much as they have four hour sloppy make outs with frotting) but it can also just be part of a downward spiral of corruption, or an active choice to reject expectations.

Personally, I love roachification as the sexualization of the things that are supposed to be the worst part of masculinization. "You're going to get ugly, and fat, and hairy, and horny. You're going to ruin your beautiful body. You're going to get acne and become a gross teenage boy."

Good. Yes. Hot. I wanna jerk off seven hours a day and get high and eat fried foods! And someone else wanting that, too? Turning me into a gamer loser, metalhead weirdo, college dropout stoner, whatever, because they like it?

Christ. Absolutely.