Social radicalism is the idea that we need to defend the rights of adults to love one another. The idea that humanity's global decision on what makes a relationship "good" or "bad" is flawed and has never been one-size-fits-all. The idea that nobody should be judged for being in a consensual relationship. And recognizing that the patriarchy has exacerbated every single one of these issues to a point where even "progressives", "punks", and "radicals" are choosing to fight against the very things they claim to stand for.
The pearl-clutching liberalism that has become the norm feeds into the patriarchal pipeline that defines every relationship under the "normal" cisgender-heterosexual terms, without recognizing that love is a spectrum. How can people call themselves leftists and stand for the oppression of love? If two adult siblings are in love, they deserve the right to be treated just like any other couple. Yet still, consang is illegal in 47 states, and in almost every nation outside of the Middle East. There's nothing "radical" about a consensual relationship, it's societal norms around familial bonds that have made this idea controversial. There's not a single nation on Earth where two siblings could legally marry one another. While marriage in its current form is an outdated, patriarchal institution, it's still used as a measure of queer rights. The same could be said for consang rights.
Consang activism as a movement is still in its earliest stages, but it cannot be abandoned. This is why Consang Day exists. 4/28 is the one day of visibility that we have, and we need to use it to its full potential.
Aurora. In one hot cave... :3
When I drew this art I wasn't satisfied with the result, so after feedback of my friend artist, I redrew all starting with the sketch
Huh! I think I did it (,,◕ ⋏ ◕,,)
When she showed up at the door of the hotel room I was staying at, she was nervous. Hesitant. Scared.
I told her to come in and sit down on the bed. "It's not too late to back out. But once I start, I'm not going to stop until I'm finished getting what I need, no matter what you say."
"This is what you need to not cut me out anymore, right? And to not tell anyone... What I did to you?"
After all this time, she still couldn't bring herself to say it. Acknowledge how she raped us when we were a child. Fucking pathetic.
"That's the deal," I replied, hiding the disgust in my voice. "You let me have my way with you, let the *monster* you created rape you in revenge, and I'll convince the others to try talking to you again."
She sat there looking up at me, trying to hide her feelings through forced eye contact, but I could see the fear driving her. It'd been nearly six years since our system had cut her out of our life entirely, and this chance, this germ of an idea that had popped into my head, was the only reason I was willing to be in the same room as her.
"You're, really different, from anyone else in there, aren't you? But you're still my so-... Child... I recognize you from your teenage years..."
She wasn't wrong about that. I'd been around for quite a while, even before we learned I was separate. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the deep irony of her mistake though; she'd managed to gender me right, but still broke the rule we'd set when we explained our system, and said she'd need to call us her daughter. She always gets it wrong, our 14-year old self said internally, even when she gets it right.
"I think we've done enough talking," I said, pulling a knife from my pocket and flicking it open. She flinched, and backed up from the edge of the bed.
"Wait, what are you going to do-"
I rushed towards her and pushed her back onto the bed, placing the blade against her neck. "I'm not going to hurt you, not with this," I said, and then grabbed her floral blouse from the bottom, bunching it up and using the knife to cut through.
"I, I didn't bring a change of clothes," she said.
"Don't care," I said as the knife cut through. I threw the separate halves of the blouse to the side and grabbed her fat fucking tits through her bra. These were probably the reason half of us were obsessed with big tits the way we were, and it wasn't even the first time we'd touched them, having fondled them in her sleep decades ago when she left them out after breastfeeding. They felt exactly like we'd imagined, exactly like we remembered, and the terror in her eyes made it even more satisfying to grope her than their pillowy texture.
"Wait, wait I-i, I shouldn't do this, this is wrong, stop it, please sto-" A slap to the face shut her up. I grabbed her by the hair and got close to her face, growling at her.
"I already fucking told you, you wouldn't be allowed to back out once I started. If you need to whine and plead to make it through, that's fine. It'll honestly make me even harder. But I am taking out a lifetime of rage on that body of yours, and I'm not stopping till I've had my fill. Do. You. Understand?"
She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, and I released my grip on her. My hands returned to tits and resumed groping her, this time a little more softly, because I thought she'd hate that more. I heard her sniffle, saw a tear running down her cheek, trailing slightly with mascara, because she never went outside the house without a full face of makeup, and not even her rape was an exception to that rule. The part of us that once was her voice said If she's anything like me, she's probably still enjoying it, and that brought a smirk to my face, knowing she'd probably "sin" and lust for me again when this was all over.
My fill of her tits obtained, I cut through the front of her bra with my knife, exposing them fully, and moved down to her waistline, where she wore a pair of simple jeans. I pulled them down, exposing her panties, and quickly sliced through the sides of those, fully intent on leaving her naked. She whimpered and cried more in protest, but didn't say anything to object, and then I spent a good few minutes sawing her jeans in half as well, knowing that however she decided to solve this, she'd be fucking humiliated.
"Heh, that's good, no phone, just like I ordered," I said, a satisfied smile creeping onto my face. "I would have drowned it in the sink if you'd brought it, and that would have been such a waste, but I knew you'd be a good fucking whore and obey me." The last part came out as a growl, and she shivered and whimpered at me in response, but it seemed like she'd run out of words already.
I pulled her bifurcated jeans down and off her legs, revealing the only piece of clothing I'd ordered she wear, a pair of thigh high stockings, garter belt optional. It was so satisfying to imagine her lying here, wearing only a single piece of lingerie, looking like a cheap whore, crying over the way she'd been used. I grabbed the cut panties and pulled them away as well, exposing her cunt and completing the image.
With her legs already spread, I lowered myself down, putting my face right up against her cunt. She started to cry in protest. "Wait, I, what are you doing, why are you-nnmmmffffff, no, no I thought-"
"That I was just going to stick my dick in you?" I replied, just after completing a circle around her clit with my tongue. "Why the fuck would I try that when you're dry? I wanna enjoy this, and I want you to hate it. It's that simple. Plus, what kind of dyke would I be if I didn't eat you out?"
I resumed my work with my tongue, lapping gently at her clit, trying small circles, sucking, flicking up and down, until I found a rhythm that she couldn't stop herself from gasping to. Her words came back, sprinkling little "no"s and "stop"s and "please"s in between little whimpers and the occasional moan, and I kept up my work down there until I could feel her dripping wet. I almost got up immediately, but I could feel her cunt twitching ever so slightly, and had a feeling she was getting close. I kept going, moaning slightly against her cunt, sending those vibrations into her, and eventually, I felt her walls clench around the finger I'd slipped inside of her. I grinned to myself, satisfied at having forced an orgasm out of her that was probably one of the better ones she's had in her life.
It was now time for the main event though. Everything I'd done up until now was rape, but the fundamentalist in her could easily make excuses about how it was terrible, and lustful, and sinful, but wasn't "sex," and so wasn't as bad as it could have been. And I wasn't going to let her have an excuse like that.
I shed my own jeans, and slipped out of my boxers, but kept my tank top and bra on, because I wasn't going to let her see us. She didn't deserve to look at how hot hormones had made us. That was something I only gave to those that I loved. I was already hard as a rock, because despite how despicable I found her, I couldn't deny her beauty, lying there naked before me, and the quiet sobs she had fallen into after cumming would have made me more than hard enough to fuck her on their own.
She turned her face away from me as I lined my cock up with her entrance, and when I slid inside of her, she started crying, nearly starting to wail, and reached over to the top of the bed for a pillow, burying her face in it. I let her hide herself from me as I started to thrust in and out of her, but after a few strokes, I ripped it out of her hands. She tried to fight me, tried to hold onto it, but when I saw her resisting, I slammed my fist into her gut, and was able to pull it away.
"You don't get to fucking hide from me," I growled, causing her to shiver. "I let you use that so you could muffle the sobs, but you don't get to hide from this, you abusive, child-raping whore. This is what you did to me. This is what it felt like. You deserve this."
Something changed in her when I said that. Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating fully, and she nodded at me, mouth agape. I resumed thrusting into her, slowly working my cock in and out, and she moved her hips in rhythm with mine, slowly gripping the bedsheets. I lifted her legs up and placed them on my shoulders, placing her into a mating press, and watched as she began to lose herself. She was still crying, still unable to look me in the eye, but she was mouthing something to herself, under her breath, slowly more audible in between moans she wasn't bothering to hold back anymore.
"I deserve this... I deserve this... I-mmmffff, I... I deserve this, I'm horrible, I hate this, I deserve this..."
The words gave way to moans again eventually, loud ones, that were indistinguishable from the times I'd listened in on her late at night when I was much, much younger. I'd wanted this for so long, I'd lusted after her for decades, never figuring out why until my 20s, but here she was, underneath me, tits rocking back and forth as I thrust harder and harder, and for a brief, brief moment, I forgot about everything she'd done to us. I only saw her there, saw her beautiful body, heard her moaning loud, like we'd fantasized about so many times before, and lost myself in the rhythm of fucking the woman who had given birth to me.
"R-------, please..." she moaned. My name... My name. Nobody else's.
I flooded her cunt with estrogenized cum immediately.
I didn't stop at one orgasm. I spent the night fucking her, using her, groping her, even kissing her; she wasn't as good a kisser as I was, and was solidly a 4/10 at oral, but it didn't matter because I wanted to truly have my way with her, and leave no fantasy unfulfilled. She was lost in lust for the rest of the night, and seemed to have enjoyed everything after she found her place as getting what she deserved. If I'd wanted to, I knew I could have made this something we did regularly, a terrible secret she hid from the world, that she was the whore of her firstborn child, a sinner who paid back the wrong done to me by losing herself in lust, embracing the monster she had created.
I was never going to let her do that.
After we woke up in the morning, I rose and began getting dressed, and collecting all my things to leave. "Are you... Going to get me some clothes?" she asked, and I kept quiet, waiting until I had finished getting ready to answer.
"I won't, no. You'll have to figure that out on your own," I answered plainly. I was hesitating. I knew what I had to do, but her eagerness last night was making it hard to do it.
She's always like this, my twin wolf replied to an unasked question. Always finds a way to push us for more.
I nodded, and let out a sigh. She was right. This was the only way to make sure the woman who raped us never hurt us again.
"I lied to you," I said. She looked at me dumbstruck.
"What? What did you lie about?" I could see her heart sinking into her chest as she asked. She knew. She didn't want to believe it. But she knew.
"I'm never going to speak to you again," I said. "We were never going to keep up contact after this."
I didn't give her a chance to respond. I had already moved to the door while we spoke, and quickly exited the hotel room. There was a delay, but I could hear her wailing. I nearly hesitated by the door, but the twin wolf took over and surged us forward, walking down the hall at a brisk pace, guiding us to the hotel lobby. She took over as she checked us out of the hotel, wearing a genuine smile and perfectly masking the conflict tearing me apart inside. It wasn't until she had brought us to the car and driven us to a nearby mall parking lot that she let me take the front again.
I looked down at our phone. There were a number of calls and texts from her, all from the last couple of minutes, after we'd gotten a ways away. "There was a bathrobe in the closet, probably grabbed that and got out to her car," the twin wolf said aloud. We had been careful not to talk to ourself or let anyone else into the front around her, but there was no reason to keep that up anymore. "You okay, R---?"
"I... I don't know. I... I thought that this was what I wanted. To hurt her, like she hurt us..."
She hugged me in headspace, wrapping around me very closely.
"I don't, I don't feel good, like I wanted to," I continued. "I feel..."
Lighter?
She nodded at me. "I'm glad. I think that was good for you. For us. Even if it wasn't what you wanted."
"Thank you," I whispered, barely audible, but still understood. "I... I hope you're right. I hope that helps us."
I looked down at my phone, and saw another call from her coming in.
Come on, sweet thing. You know the muzzle is good for you. We do have neighbors, and I wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea and sending someone to take you away from me. Oh hey now, don’t give me that look. You don’t want to be taken away either. I know you’re acting up right now, but what would you even do if you got out on your own?
It’s been… months, probably, since you’ve chosen what you eat for a meal, I don’t think you’d be able to think of three of them a day anymore. It’s been even longer than that since you’ve chosen your own clothes. I can’t remember the last time you washed your own hair. If I gave you my phone to call for a rescue, would you know how to use it or would you stare at it empty-eyed, like the animal I’ve turned you into? You should be grateful I do so much for you.
Not to mention all that horrible human life stuff I’ve let you get out of. Do you remember resumes? Job hunting? Rent? Do you even know how much the mortgage on this house is? I mean, honestly, did you even know that I own the house that I keep you in? I’d never throw in your face how much I spend, thats my responsibility as your captor, but do you consider how little you have to think about? You don’t wanna be thrown back to the wolves. It would just crush a helpless little thing like you.
What’s so good out there, pet? You eat from my hand, and I feed you well. You wear nice clothes I picked out just for you and I dress you up every day. The bed in your cage is soft and comfortable. You get to spend most of your day drawing or making things or kneeling by my desk while I work. You used to complain about never reading and now you go through the books I give you so quickly, I worry the library will get suspicious. Isn’t this how you’re meant to live? Isn’t this what’s good for you?
If I take off your muzzle, will you stop screaming to be let go? I can’t let you go. I have to take care of you
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