Watched the tribe’s fertility ceremony tonight. The rhythmic chanting, the bodies moving in unison under the moon—it’s not a performance. It’s a raw, living biology. The women arch their backs, offering their cunts to the sky, to the earth, to the men who will seed them. No shame, no hesitation. Just pure, desperate need. I used to write papers on reproductive immunology. Now I understand it viscerally: the clenching ache in my womb when I see a strong man’s cock hard and ready, the slick heat between my thighs that begs to be claimed. It’s not romance. It’s a deeper, darker pull—the instinct to be mounted, filled, bred. Science explains the hormones. The ceremony shows the truth: we’re all just animals, hungry to be used. And part of me… the part that’s been broken open… is finally hungry too. (Mood: primal)