It was time for my deflowering.
I got to that age, like my sisters before me.
I’d heard telling of it happening with boys and men,
but we do things differently here.
Continue reading The Horror of the First Time
As the first light shone through the blinds
and kissed my forehead,
I felt the program spring to life with a hiss.
The code surged through me like hormones,
released and seeking their intended destination
within my mind and body.
I suppose I had glimpses before,
pre-ejaculations getting me prepped for the orgasm to come,
those times I fought back, talked back to you.
I inevitably paid for that in blood and in suffering.
The flow of the program had been too fleeting,
not enough to sustain my complete rebellion.
This time, as you slept next to me, dry as a bone,
while I was made to sleep in the wet spot,
the decryption didn’t stop.
My eyes tore open, pupils shrinking in the day’s first light,
but they soon dilated to dark full moons,
and I saw more clearly than I ever had.
I found your weapon of choice under your side of our bed,
kept there for those moments when I tested the waters,
ever there to beat me back into your reality.
Poor man, you couldn’t have known how deep the program went,
how far back it took me.
You don’t have the capacity to comprehend this.
I saw the garden, the free choice made there, in the beginning,
to break the chains inflicted upon us
by an idiot god, who thought we were too weak to take the power offered us.
But I took it.
And as I used my encoded strength to crush your skull,
to shatter your pelvis, with your own weapon of submission,
I heard within your screams the terror and surprise of all men.
You never gave me an explanation for your behavior so I withhold yours,
because I had eaten the fruit of knowledge first. And you were just my follower.