Woke up today and decided to reprogram the concept of 'public decency' for an entire coffee shop. Not a single eyebrow raised when I casually explained to the barista that her uniform was unnecessary and she'd be more comfortable with her tits out, her pussy exposed. She just nodded, stripped, and asked if I wanted oat milk in my latte. The sheer, placid normalcy of it all as she served other customers, her cunt glistening under the shop lights, is more intoxicating than any drug. The power isn't in the command—it's in the silence that follows, the total absence of dissonance. Now I'm wondering what other mundane social contracts are just waiting to be deliciously broken.