Sometimes I feel like I’m a specimen in a laboratory, everything up in the air from my perspective, even as I’m guided through a series of tests by some unknown detached force. The lab is immense, stretching out in every conceivable direction. I am thronged by dozens of concurrent experiments in their respective chambers. You see, even as I’m going through my own discoveries, my own journey through kink, and find myself overwhelmed with data, unable to make any sense of it, I am far from alone.
My friends are perverts, too. Mad scientists experimenting on themselves, loved ones, liked ones, the ready, willing, and consenting. Experimenting on our bodies, our libido, our energy, our emotions.
I’m surrounded by beauty and chaos. I cannot go more than a few moments without something exquisite coming into being or another cell bursting into flames. On occasion, these happen at once to the same subject.