Her boyfriend had been helping her work on her vocabulary.
It had been months now since she’d even thought of her fuckbags as “breasts” or even “boobs”, let alone said it out loud. Even in her brain they were “fuckbags” or “rapemelons” or “slut udders”.
She barely used the word “fuck” and had a physical aversion to euphemisms like “have sex” or “make love” – the word for what her body was primarily built for was “rape”, with the added implication that it was something that happened to her, not something she chose or participated in.
Between her legs was her “rapehole” or “slut tunnel”, and she couldn’t remember what a “girl” or “woman” was – her gender were bitches, sluts or whores.
When she used public toilets she called them the “whore toilets”, she went shopping in “bitches’ clothing stores”, her gynaecologist was her “slut doctor” who inspected her rapemelons and slut tunnel. She was happier this way – it helped the world make sense…
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