A Fantasy Brought to Life

It started as a whisper.

A craving that had lived quietly inside me for years, tucked away in the shadows of my mind where it felt too dangerous and wrong to look at directly.

There was a sense of shame around it.

Guilt, too.

Guilt toward the women who had endured this violence without their consent, who had suffered real pain and trauma at the hands of those who saw their bodies as something to take.

Who was I to want this?

To ache for it?

To crave surrendering in a way that, if it were real, would be horrifying?

It made me feel twisted. Broken, even. Like there was something wrong with me.

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