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8/8/2025, 5:01:09 AM
>>717554921
I'm a normal person. I'm perfectly fine. I do not harm others. I do not desire to harm others. Any crimes I may or may not be guilty of involve only myself. I transgress only against myself.
But if Sphene existed in real life. If Queen Sphene existed in real fucking life. Every second, every minute, every hour of every day would be dedicated solely and purely to devising and perfecting a plot to house this creature for the sole intent of breeding her until I die of exhaustion. I would not stop. I would be more succesful as a person, even. Any job, anything that may wound my pride, or tire me, or stress me down — these petty things would be cast aside. I would suffer any labor just so that I might acquire the wealth and status and goods that would deliver me closer to achieving that singular goal. I would go so far as to physically modify myself: anything that would strengthen me and my member's capacity to satisfy Sphene.
You don't understand. It would be all consuming. You don't get it. Imagine God gave you a list, a duty. Imagine he gave you just one directive. A difficult one, but accomplishable. Imagine God told you that to get to Heaven, to taste the sweetest fruit of salvation, all you had to do was this one thing. Would you not do everything your power to accomplish it? Would it not give your life such a purpose? An arrow loosened from a bow? A bullet fired from a gun? A singular direction, the thrumming battery of the heart beating for this one goal.
My heaven, my salvation, lies in the interminable breeding of Sphene. Thank God she does not exist, then, for the monster that I would become. For the horror that I would make manifest.
I'm a normal person. I'm perfectly fine. I do not harm others. I do not desire to harm others. Any crimes I may or may not be guilty of involve only myself. I transgress only against myself.
But if Sphene existed in real life. If Queen Sphene existed in real fucking life. Every second, every minute, every hour of every day would be dedicated solely and purely to devising and perfecting a plot to house this creature for the sole intent of breeding her until I die of exhaustion. I would not stop. I would be more succesful as a person, even. Any job, anything that may wound my pride, or tire me, or stress me down — these petty things would be cast aside. I would suffer any labor just so that I might acquire the wealth and status and goods that would deliver me closer to achieving that singular goal. I would go so far as to physically modify myself: anything that would strengthen me and my member's capacity to satisfy Sphene.
You don't understand. It would be all consuming. You don't get it. Imagine God gave you a list, a duty. Imagine he gave you just one directive. A difficult one, but accomplishable. Imagine God told you that to get to Heaven, to taste the sweetest fruit of salvation, all you had to do was this one thing. Would you not do everything your power to accomplish it? Would it not give your life such a purpose? An arrow loosened from a bow? A bullet fired from a gun? A singular direction, the thrumming battery of the heart beating for this one goal.
My heaven, my salvation, lies in the interminable breeding of Sphene. Thank God she does not exist, then, for the monster that I would become. For the horror that I would make manifest.
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