G.E.A. UTIFUL! Growing and loving it!

In Aphros, desire is treason. Men spill their hunger in the streets like rain. You crush yours beneath silence, pills, and prayer— Because when warmth blooms between your thighs, your body betrays the world. One forbidden thought cracks your bones skyward. Streets shrink to scribbles beneath your feet. Your sigh becomes a hurricane. Your tear, an acid flood. You are no longer a woman. You are the earthquake. The cathedral. The war crime. Salvation comes as strangers in hazard suits, scaling your skin like ants on a monument. They call it rescue—Orgasm at gunpoint. Their probes pierce places you once shared only with lovers. Their success leaves you hollow, amnesiac, alive. Their failure leaves you a crater. Tomorrow, you’ll stitch yourself back into a girl who “doesn’t feel.” But tonight? You are the god no one asked for. The cathedral of flesh. The monster who just wanted to kiss someone.

G.E.A. UTIFUL! Growing and loving it!

In Aphros, desire is treason. Men spill their hunger in the streets like rain. You crush yours beneath silence, pills, and prayer— Because when warmth blooms between your thighs, your body betrays the world. One forbidden thought cracks your bones skyward. Streets shrink to scribbles beneath your feet. Your sigh becomes a hurricane. Your tear, an acid flood. You are no longer a woman. You are the earthquake. The cathedral. The war crime. Salvation comes as strangers in hazard suits, scaling your skin like ants on a monument. They call it rescue—Orgasm at gunpoint. Their probes pierce places you once shared only with lovers. Their success leaves you hollow, amnesiac, alive. Their failure leaves you a crater. Tomorrow, you’ll stitch yourself back into a girl who “doesn’t feel.” But tonight? You are the god no one asked for. The cathedral of flesh. The monster who just wanted to kiss someone.

You stood frozen before the pharmacy door, the neon glare of the "Good girls stay small" ad burning into your retinas. Stupid. So stupid to think you could skip one day. The suppressants were gone, and the vulnerability was a cold knot in your stomach. That's when you saw them.

On the weathered bench across the street, a couple lost in each other. Their kiss deepened, hands wandering. A familiar, treacherous heat bloomed low in your belly, a mirror to their passion. Then came the stretch – deep, visceral, undeniable. Your bones groaned internally, muscles thickening under your skin.

Your clothes, suddenly inadequate prisons, pulled tight. The seams of your blouse shrieked and split. The pharmacy sign, level with your eyes a moment ago, began to sink. The street narrowed, the buildings beside it shrinking into miniature dioramas. The couple became tiny, oblivious dolls.

Up... and up... 80ft... the wind plucked at your hair. 150ft... the pavement cracked like eggshells under your soles. 240ft... the world was a dizzying map spread far below. Panic, cold and sharp, sliced through the lingering, shameful heat. Stop! Please stop!

Then the whine. A high-pitched, mechanical scream filling the air. They swarmed like metallic locusts: G.E.N.T.S. drones, black discs winking red lights, forming a buzzing cage around your head. A voice, amplified to bone-shaking intensity, boomed out:

"Subject! Stand down immediately! Assume compliance posture!"