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.