u/DoYouNotRememberThis

I’m pretty sure books with this premise don’t even exist, despite the fact that it’s been done dozens of times with the genders swapped. I’ve been scanning around, and I can’t seem to find any books that portray this scenario. Does anybody know a book that fits this premise?

Nowadays I notice that the horror genre is usually not very kind to men. Male characters are way less likely to survive, and there are tons of horror movies and novels that portray all men as monsters. I see literally nobody talk about this, so what are the cases of misandry you’ve seen in the horror genre?

I’ve noticed that most modern horror movies and almost all modern horror novels always feature a female protagonist, and male protagonists nowadays are pretty rare. Even when a story does feature a male protagonist, there’s always a 90% chance he’s going to die, or die in a sequel. I’m not saying that more female protagonists is a bad thing, but I wouldn’t mind seeing a new Ash Williams or Andy Barclay. So, what are some recent horror movies or novels that features a surviving male lead?

When I was a young girl, I didn’t understand exactly how the digestive system worked. To be frank, I still don’t think I do. I was around 5 years old when I first took notice of my stomach growling. I remember shrieking in fear and running to my mom, rambling about a monster in my tummy. She told me that’s just how the body works, but my stubborn little brain didn’t buy it. I went 5 more years thinking there really was a monster in my stomach, even eating extra food so that it would have more to eat. I remember looking back on those times when I was 17, thinking I was so, so silly. Now I’m 20 years old, and I don’t find those moments as silly now.

It started on a Monday when I was working a casual shift at McDonald’s, running the raw fries through the deep fryer, dreaming of my next paycheck. It was four weeks before my 21st birthday. While cooking, I heard a particularly loud grumble come from my stomach. My cheeks turned red as I scanned the room, trying to determine if anyone heard it. Thankfully, the ambience of crappy pop music likely drowned it out, because nobody seemed to notice. I went back to cooking, but my stupid stomach wouldn’t shut up. I had to keep it pressed against a counter just to semi-muffle the clamoring. What’s weird was that I wasn’t even feeling that hungry, since I had a pretty big breakfast. When I finally reached my lunch break, I hastily scarfed down a BigMac in a desperate attempt to shut my gut, and sure enough, it did. I went the rest of my shift without much issue.

However, at the end of that week, I was positive there was something wrong with my belly. I ate larger meals than usual, wondering if I was just having an increased appetite, but it wasn’t just that. I was also starting to feel a bit more bloated. At first I thought thought it was just food-babies from my bigger meals. But even when I hadn’t eaten in several hours, it still felt like I had a huge rock in my gut. The bulge it left wasn’t massive, but it was noticeable. On Thursday, when I was out at the mall, I decided to wear this cute new crop top I had just bought. And when I walked past a Chick-fiI-A, which had a miles-long tantalizing scent of chicken and spices drifting from it, I swear to God and all His angels I saw my stomach shift. It was so subtle, but I caught it from the bottom of my eye. I remember my heart stopping and all muscles going stone-solid. After a few seconds of staring at my middle, it begun to growl again.

When I got in my car, I decided it was finally time to call up the doctor. There was clearly something very wrong with my stomach. I pulled out my phone and started to dial the number of my local hospital, but before I could even get halfway through, I felt a sharp wave of pain ring through my stomach. It was so strong and so sudden I audibly yelped out and dropped my phone. And pain lingered for a couple seconds before fading. My eyes had already begun to well with tears, and my lungs were working overtime. I cautiously attempted to reach for my phone again, and a stronger bomb of pain burst through my belly. It felt like something was clawing at my guts, as if something was trying to stop me…

The was the exact thought that ran through my head at that moment, and it was also the moment I remembered my childhood fear all those years ago. A monster in my tummy…

And now, here I am. Alone in my tiny apartment. Laying on the floor, phone in left hand, gut in right hand. 30 minutes away from my birthday. The last week has been a daze for me, but I have enough clarity to type this final message out, as well as acknowledge what’s become of me. My stomach has grown larger, a bit larger than the size of a basketball. It gurgles with an intensity that could match the deep fryer back at my old job, which I had quit prior this week. I have no need for cash anymore. Not now. I can feel and see it turning. Every little bump that comes and goes on my skin is another sign of confirmation that young me was right to be afraid. I’m not exactly sure why it wants to get out now, but i have a theory. Perhaps I’m like an egg. An egg that was holding a developing baby, until one day the baby was ready to leave and it rammed its head out, shattering its first home. I don’t know which of those growls came from my stomach or the thing in my stomach before all this. But I do know one thing. The hatching is almost here. I’m guessing that it’ll come out once I turn 21. I wonder if I can at least get a glance at this thing once it decides it’s had enough of me.

Well, looks like it’s almost time for our birthdays. There’s a cake on the floor next to me. I hope it enjoys it.

When I was a young girl, I didn’t understand exactly how the digestive system worked. To be frank, I still don’t think I do. I was around 5 years old when I first took notice of my stomach growling. I remember shrieking in fear and running to my mom, rambling about a monster in my tummy. She told me that’s just how the body works, but my stubborn little brain didn’t buy it. I went 5 more years thinking there really was a monster in my stomach, even eating extra food so that it would have more to eat. I remember looking back on those times when I was 17, thinking I was so, so silly. Now I’m 20 years old, and I don’t find those moments as silly now.

It started on a Monday when I was working a casual shift at McDonald’s, running the raw fries through the deep fryer, dreaming of my next paycheck. It was four weeks before my 21st birthday. While cooking, I heard a particularly loud grumble come from my stomach. My cheeks turned red as I scanned the room, trying to determine if anyone heard it. Thankfully, the ambience of crappy pop music likely drowned it out, because nobody seemed to notice. I went back to cooking, but my stupid stomach wouldn’t shut up. I had to keep it pressed against a counter just to semi-muffle the clamoring. What’s weird was that I wasn’t even feeling that hungry, since I had a pretty big breakfast. When I finally reached my lunch break, I hastily scarfed down a BigMac in a desperate attempt to shut my gut, and sure enough, it did. I went the rest of my shift without much issue.

However, at the end of that week, I was positive there was something wrong with my belly. I ate larger meals than usual, wondering if I was just having an increased appetite, but it wasn’t just that. I was also starting to feel a bit more bloated. At first I thought it was just food-babies from my bigger meals. But even when I hadn’t eaten in several hours, it still felt like I had a huge rock in my gut. The bulge it left wasn’t massive, but it was noticeable. On Thursday, when I was out at the mall, I decided to wear this cute new crop top I had just bought. And when I walked past a Chick-fiI-A, which had a miles-long tantalizing scent of chicken and spices drifting from it, I swear to God and all His angels I saw my stomach shift. It was so subtle, but I caught it from the bottom of my eye. I remember my heart stopping and all muscles going stone-solid. After a few seconds of staring at my middle, it begun to growl again.

When I got in my car, I decided it was finally time to call up the doctor. There was clearly something very wrong with my stomach. I pulled out my phone and started to dial the number of my local hospital, but before I could even get halfway through, I felt a sharp wave of pain ring through my stomach. It was so strong and so sudden I audibly yelped out and dropped my phone. The pain lingered for a couple seconds before fading. My eyes had already begun to well with tears, and my lungs were working overtime. I cautiously attempted to reach for my phone again, and a stronger blast of pain burst through my belly. It felt like something was clawing at my guts, as if something was trying to stop me…

That was the exact thought that ran through my head at that moment, and it was also the moment I remembered my childhood fear all those years ago. A monster in my tummy…

And now, here I am. Alone in my tiny apartment. Laying on the floor, phone in left hand, gut in right hand. 30 minutes away from my birthday. The last few weeks have been a daze for me, but I have enough clarity to type this final message out, as well as acknowledge what’s become of me. My stomach has grown larger, a bit larger than the size of a basketball. It gurgles with an intensity that could match the deep fryer back at my old job, which I had quit prior this week. I have no need for cash anymore. Not now. I can feel and see it turning. Every little bump that comes and goes on my skin is another sign of confirmation that young me was right to be afraid. I’m not exactly sure why it wants to get out now, but i have a theory. Perhaps I’m like an egg. An egg that was holding a developing baby, until one day the baby was ready to leave and it rammed its head out, shattering its first home. I don’t know which of those growls came from my stomach or the thing in my stomach before all this. But I do know one thing. The hatching is almost here. I’m guessing that it’ll come out once I turn 21. I wonder if I can at least get a glance at this thing once it decides it’s had enough of me.

Well, looks like it’s almost time for our birthdays. There’s a cake on the floor next to me. I hope it enjoys it.

This is a plot that I’ve really been trying to find in books, but they are almost nonexistent compared to the hundreds of stories about female victims escaping their abusers. And when I do find a book that matches what I’m looking for, it always has the most bleak and unsatisfying ending. The closest matches I’ve found so far are 68 Kill and A Simple Lie. So, what are some novels about male abuse victims escaping their female abusers which have happy endings?

You’ll see dozens of posts and essays and videos about misogyny in literature and how terrible it is, but when a book features heavy misandry, it’s almost never seen as a problem. Like, there are several books nowadays like They Never Learn and How To Kill Men And Get Away With It where all men are treated as horrible monsters that deserve to die, but almost nobody complains about it. It’s especially prominent in the horror genre with novels like Molka, Marion, and Honey. But if I were to write a novel where all women are horrible people who deserve to die, and the man who’s killing them is seen as the hero, that shit would get labeled as a cogito hazard. What’s the deal with that?

I’m a big reader, and so I’d like to know what books I should definitely steer clear of, because I really hate when books treat the entire male cast like crap. Plus, I hardly see any conversation about misandry in fictional literature, so I thought this would be an interesting topic to bring up! Stuff like all men being treated like evil misogynistic monsters or fuel for the kill count. That kind of stuff always gets on my nerves. I especially don’t care for fem-gore novels, mainly because of how they portray the male characters. What are some examples of misandry in novels that you guys have noticed?

There are dozens upon dozens of novels portraying women trapped in abusive relationships with terrible men, but there are hardly any novels about the opposite, and most of the ones that do are super niche. Only a couple are really popular, like Gone Girl and Rebecca. How come this topic is so underutilized in literature?