Ethan's Nieces
Copyright© 2025 by sublock
Chapter 17: In Which Much Comes Out
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 17: In Which Much Comes Out - A young man comes home from his first year of college to find that his family's changed... a lot. As the summer progresses, he gets a strange summer job and faces some big fears with the support of his parents and siblings. Note: has quite a lot of partner-sharing (swinging). Not an exclusive harem story.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Mult Teenagers Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Workplace Sharing Wife Watching Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Cousins Uncle Niece Aunt Nephew Grand Parent InLaws Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Oral Sex Voyeurism Public Sex Small Breasts Nudism AI Generated
Notice: This chapter has a rougher sex scene at the end. It is still consensual and mutually passionate, but has some slapping and choking.
I was up late, contemplating what all this could mean, trying to wrap my head around why Lauren would do this. After a fitful sleep I came downstairs to find the rest of the family gathering in the kitchen, phones out, faces serious. The article was pulled up on Dad’s laptop in the center of the table.
“Morning,” I said quietly, pouring coffee.
Mom looked up, her expression tight with worry. “Have you seen the comments section?”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t,” Emma advised. “People are terrible.”
I sat down and read through the article again in daylight, with my family around me. It was still sensationalist garbage — half-truths and speculation wrapped in salacious language. There was not a whole lot there, but enough to incriminate. The “credible reports of employees and friends gathering together in open sexual relationships” were vague enough to avoid libel but specific enough to be threatening.
“At least no-one is named,” Dad said, though his voice was strained. “No photos, no discussion of family stuff. Well, I guess it’s a little implied.”
“Yet,” Mom added. “But Ethan, this has to be Lauren’s work, right? Who else would have this information?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m going to find out.”
I pulled out my phone and texted Lauren:
We need to talk. Now.
The response came after a minute.
I can’t. Shit is going down, I know.
The article used my stuff but it wasn’t me, I’m figuring out what happened.
Give me till Tuesday, 3pm. I’ll know more then.
“She wants to meet. She says it wasn’t her,” I told my family.
“Do you think that’s safe?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s just putting me off. But if she wanted to hurt us, she probably wouldn’t meet face to face.”
Emma reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Be careful. She’s unpredictable.”
The conversation shifted to damage control. Dad called David to talk about it — as a known Blackwood employee with a family, he was more exposed than we were. Mom called Jessica and Tom for the same reason. Everyone was on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But as the day wore on and we monitored social media and news sites, we watched the story slowly go viral. It got some attention, generating mockery and fascination as much as outrage. People seemed more amused than scandalized.
“Investment Firms,” someone wrote. “Just Capitalist appetites, guess they really are fucking each other as much as they’re fucking us over.”
The economy was still in shambles, Recession panic had set in, it was just another scandal in a nonstop year of political scandals. I wasn’t surprised that people were shrugging it off.
Still, the worry lingered. Investigations could start. Legal consequences could follow. Our entire world could unravel.
It was a nervous weekend.
Monday morning, the Blackwood offices were buzzing with nervous energy. People clustered in hallways whispering, checking their phones compulsively, casting worried glances at each other. Not even a hint of the usual office shenanigans that I could see — everyone was too anxious.
I hunkered down and working my way through my to-dos. Lunch was a subdued affair, and afterwards I found Katherine at her desk near mine, looking uncharacteristically disheveled. Her normally perfect hair was slightly messed, and she was staring at her computer screen with unfocused eyes.
“Hey,” I said gently, pulling up a chair beside her. “You okay?”
She looked up, and I saw tears in her eyes. “Have you seen it?”
“The article? Yeah.”
“Everyone’s talking about it. Asking if it’s true. If we’re really some kind of cult.” Her voice broke. “What if this destroys everything?”
I moved my chair closer. “What did Richard say?”
“That’s the weird part. He seems completely unbothered.” She pulled up an internal company email and showed me.
Richard’s message was brief and almost dismissive:
Team - I’m aware of the recent article. We’re looking into the source and will address it appropriately. This kind of exposure was inevitable given our growth and philosophy. We have contingencies in place. Please comfort each other but stay focused, there is a lot of work left to do. - R
“That’s it?” I said. “That’s his whole response?”
“Patricia said basically the same thing in the department meeting. ‘Stuff was going to come out eventually, we planned for this.’” Katherine wiped her eyes. “How can they be so calm?”
“Maybe because they really did plan for it,” I suggested. “Richard’s been building toward something big. Maybe public exposure was always part of the timeline.”
Katherine took a shaky breath. “I’m just scared. Blackwood changed my life, Ethan. Before I came here, I was with this terrible boyfriend. Controlling, jealous, made me feel like wanting anything for myself was wrong. I got hired here and broke up with him the same week, and it felt like escape and freedom all at once.”
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “This place taught me I could want things. I could pursue pleasure. I could be honest about who I am. I’ve been happier here than anywhere in my life.” Fresh tears spilled over. “What if it all goes away?”
I pulled her into a hug, and she buried her face in my shoulder, crying softly. We stayed like that for a long moment, and gradually her breathing steadied. I became aware that a few people had noticed us — Liam from his open office door, a woman from marketing visiting a friend at her desk, all watching with concerned expressions.
“Thank you,” Katherine whispered against my neck.
“For what?”
“For being kind. For giving a shit.” She pulled back slightly, looking at me with vulnerable eyes. “Can we ... I need to feel something good right now. Something real.”
“Katherine —”
“Please. I need to remember why this matters. Why all of this is worth protecting.”
I glanced around — we were in our corner of the open floorplan, low cubicle walls offering some visual barrier but not complete privacy. The building was quiet, most people in meetings or hunkered down and trying to focus on work.
“Here?” I asked quietly.
“Here. I don’t want to hide.” Her hands found my face. “I want this to be open. Real. The way Blackwood taught me it could be.”
I nodded, understanding. This wasn’t about just sex — this was about reclaiming what Blackwood had given her, defying the fear that it might be taken away.
Katherine stood and locked eyes with me as she started unbuttoning her blouse. Her fingers moved slowly, deliberately, each button revealing more of her lace bra underneath. I stood too, pulling my shirt over my head, both of us undressing with quiet purpose.
She unhooked her bra and let it fall, her breasts shiny in the fluorescent office lighting—full and soft, nipples hardening in the air-conditioned space. Her pencil skirt came next, then her panties, until she stood completely naked beside her desk, vulnerable and beautiful.
I stripped off my pants and boxers, my cock already hardening from the intimacy of the moment. We weren’t performing — this was something deeper, something necessary.
“How do you want me?” Katherine asked softly.
“However feels right to you.”
She sat on the edge of her desk, papers and office supplies pushed aside, and spread her legs in invitation. “Come here. I want to see your face. I want this to be real.”
I stepped between her thighs, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Her hand reached down and guided my cock to her entrance, and I pushed inside slowly, both of us gasping at the connection.
She was warm and wet and perfect, her pussy gripping me as I entered her fully. I paused there, buried completely, and we just looked at each other.
“You matter,” I told her, my hands on her hips. “What we have here matters. Work is important, but really it’s the working together that is the real importance.”
“Promise?” Her voice was small, vulnerable.
“I promise. The bonds you’ve made, the person you’ve become — that’s real. That’s yours. No matter what happens.”
I started moving then, slow and deliberate rolls of my hips, not fucking her but making love to her. Each stroke was intentional, trying to communicate through physical connection what words couldn’t quite capture.
Katherine’s hands came up to my shoulders, gripping me, her forehead pressing against mine as we moved together. Her breath came in soft gasps, tears still sliding down her cheeks but mixed with something else now — relief, pleasure, gratitude.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for fucking me.”
“I’m here for you. We all are.”
Movement in my peripheral vision — Liam had left his office to lean against a nearby wall, clearly watching. The woman from accounting had joined him, and Rachel — the gangbang girl from last week. Their expressions weren’t voyeuristic but supportive, concerned.
Katherine noticed them too and didn’t tense or pull away. Instead, she called out softly: “Will you stay? Please?”
They came closer, Liam moving to Katherine’s right side, Rachel to her left. Liam’s hand found Katherine’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Rachel and her friend stroked Katherine’s hair.
“You’re not alone,” the woman said quietly. “Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”
“We’re all in this together,” Liam added. “We have each other’s backs.”
Katherine sobbed once, overwhelmed by the support, by the physical comfort I was providing, by the presence of others bearing witness to her vulnerability. I continued moving inside her, my pace steady, one hand coming up to cup her face.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Let it out. We’ve got you.”
Rachel leaned in and kissed Katherine’s nipple while Liam continued his reassuring touch on her shoulder. I thrust deeper, angling to hit the spots I knew would feel good, and Katherine’s pussy clenched around me.
“Oh god,” she gasped. “I’m close —”
“Let go,” I told her. “We’re with you. Cum for us.”
She came with a broken cry, her whole body shaking, tears streaming down her face. Her pussy spasmed around my cock, and the emotional intensity of it — her release wasn’t just physical but psychological, a breaking open of fear and a reassertion of trust — pushed me over the edge too.
I came inside her, burying myself deep, my forehead pressed to hers, my throat tight with the moment. Liam and the women held Katherine through it, their hands gentle and grounding.
When we finished, we didn’t immediately separate. We stayed connected, breathing together, surrounded by the quiet support of our colleagues. Eventually, I pulled out gently, and Rachel helped Katherine sit up while Liam found tissues.
We dressed slowly, nobody rushing, the atmosphere tender and protective. When Katherine was clothed again, she hugged each of us in turn.
“Thank you,” she said to the others, and we got nothing but warm smiles. Back to work.
Someone brought water. Someone else offered snacks from the break room. The nervous energy that had filled the office earlier had transformed into something else: solidarity, defiance, a shared commitment to protecting what they’d built together.
Katherine squeezed my hand. “Thank you,” she said again, just to me. “For reminding me why this matters.”
“Thank you for trusting me with it.”
I stayed with Katherine a while longer, just sitting beside her desk, both of us processing. Eventually, she smiled at me — genuine and grateful.
“Go home,” she said. “We’ve got a lot to do this week. Let’s all get some rest.”
I squeezed her shoulder once more and headed out, my mind full of everything that had happened, everything we stood to lose, everything we were determined to keep.
I got home around four to unexpected sounds from the living room—moans and the rhythmic slap of skin on skin. I dropped my bag by the door and walked in to find Emma and Dad on the couch, already deep into fucking.
Emma was on her back, one leg hooked over the couch back, the other braced on the floor, spread wide open. She was on some towels to protect the couch, and Dad was between her legs, his hips pistoning steadily, his cock driving into her with practiced rhythm. Both were naked and glistening with sweat, clearly having been at this for a while.
“Hey,” I said casually, standing behind the couch and giving them a thumbs-up. “Don’t mind me.”
Emma’s head turned toward me, her face flushed with pleasure, mouth open as she gasped. “Hey, big brother. Good — oh fuck — good day at work?”
“Weird day. You two seem relaxed though.”
Dad pulled back slightly, slowing his thrusts to look over at me. His cock was still buried in Emma, glistening with her juices. “Figured we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can. If the world’s going to end, might as well go out happy.”
“Dark but fair,” I said, leaning in to watch properly.
Dad returned his attention to Emma, picking up his pace again. I watched my sister’s body respond — her small breasts bouncing with each thrust, nipples hard and pink. Her stomach was flat and toned, flexing with each impact. The sight of Dad’s cock disappearing into her tight pussy was mesmerizing, her lips stretched around him, everything slick and obscene.
“Dad,” Emma gasped, “right there, don’t stop —”
“I’ve got you, baby girl,” Dad murmured, his hand grasping her face, exploring her, sticking his fingers into her mouth.
Emma’s body was beautiful in motion — every thrust made her arch slightly, her hips rolling up to meet him, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her legs were lean and strong from all the swimming and running she did, and they tensed and relaxed with each wave of pleasure.
“She’s gotten so responsive,” I observed, genuinely impressed.
“Right?” Dad said, not breaking rhythm. “She knows exactly what she needs now. Asks for it.”
“Harder, Daddy,” Emma demonstrated, proving his point. “I need it harder.”
Dad obliged, gripping her hips and really driving into her. The couch creaked beneath them, and Emma’s moans got louder, more desperate. Her hands moved to her own breasts, pinching her nipples, adding to her stimulation.
“That’s it,” I encouraged her, a little surprised at myself for wanting to stick around. “Look at you taking Dad’s cock so well.”
“Feels so good,” Emma gasped. “So full — oh God, I’m getting close —”
“Already?” Dad teased gently. “We’ve only been going twenty minutes.”
“Can’t help it. You feel too good.” Emma’s body was tensing now, her muscles tightening, her pussy clenching visibly around Dad’s shaft. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop —”
Dad’s thumb worked her clit in tight circles while he maintained his steady, deep thrusts. “Come on, baby. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”
Emma’s back arched dramatically, her whole body going rigid. Her mouth opened in a silent scream before the sound broke free — a long, keening cry of pleasure as her orgasm crashed through her. I could see her pussy spasming around Dad’s cock, gripping him rhythmically, her thighs shaking.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful,” Dad groaned, slowing his movements to let her ride it out. “Such a good girl.”
Emma collapsed back onto the couch, breathing hard, her body still twitching with aftershocks. Her skin was flushed pink from chest to face, a light sheen of sweat making her glow. Dad pulled out slowly, his cock still rock hard, and Emma whimpered at the loss.
She lay there for a moment catching her breath, then her eyes opened and found me. A slow smile spread across her face.
“Come here,” she said, her voice husky.
I stood and moved to the couch, unbuckling my pants. Emma shifted to sit up, and Dad moved aside to give her space, standing beside the couch stroking his wet cock.
Emma pulled my pants down eagerly, freeing my erection. “I love you both so much,” she said, looking between us. “My two favorite men.”
She took my cock into her mouth without preamble, sucking me deep, her tongue working expertly. I groaned, my hand finding her hair. Her head bobbed steadily, and I watched my cock disappear between her lips again and again.
Dad moved back between Emma’s spread legs, positioning himself at her entrance again. “Ready for more, baby girl?”
Emma pulled off my cock long enough to say, “Always,” then went back to sucking me.
Dad pushed back inside her, and Emma moaned around my cock, the vibration incredible. Dad started fucking her again, slower this time, long deliberate strokes, and Emma’s whole body rocked with the movement. Her mouth stayed on my cock, her technique only improving as Dad fucked her from behind.
“Look at her,” Dad said to me, pride and lust in his voice. “Taking both of us so perfectly.”
“She’s incredible,” I agreed, my hips starting to thrust gently, fucking Emma’s mouth while Dad fucked her pussy.
Emma’s hand came up to grip the base of my shaft, stroking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. Her other hand braced on the couch for leverage. She was completely focused on pleasuring both of us, her body moving fluidly between us.
“I’m getting close,” Dad warned. “Where do you want it, Emma?”
She pulled off my cock, spit connecting her lips to my tip. “On me. I want to see it.”
Dad pulled out and Emma quickly repositioned, lying back on the couch with her legs spread. Her pussy was swollen and red from the fucking, glistening with her arousal. Dad stroked himself frantically, aimed at her exposed sex.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, and came hard. Thick ropes of cum shot across Emma’s pussy and stomach, painting her pale skin white. He kept stroking, making sure to cover her thoroughly, cum pooling in her navel and dripping down to her ass.
Emma’s hand immediately went to her clit, smearing the cream across herself, rubbing frantically while Dad’s cum covered her. “So hot,” she gasped. “I love being marked by my Daddy.”
She was working herself toward another orgasm, her body writhing on the couch, covered in Dad’s release. Dad watched, still catching his breath, and I moved closer, my cock still hard and ready.
“Want me too?” I asked Emma.
“God yes. Cover me. Both of you.”
I stroked myself, looking down at my sister spread out and debauched, Dad’s cum already coating her, and my orgasm built quickly. I came across her face and breasts, adding my release to Dad’s. My sister had become quite the family cumslut.
Emma came again from her own fingers, her back arching, more wetness flooding from her pussy to mix with the cum dribbling onto the towel. When she finally calmed, she lay there panting and smiling, absolutely covered in our combined release.
“That was perfect,” she said breathlessly. “Exactly what I needed today.”
She let out a little giggle and started to wipe up. She was loose-limbed and satisfied, letting us care for her with sleepy contentment.
“I love our family,” Emma said.
“We love you too, sweetheart,” Dad said, kissing her forehead.
I kissed her as well, then stood. “I’m going to take a bath. Need to think about tomorrow.”
“Oh. Yeah, Lauren,” Emma called after me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“That leaves a lot of options,” I called back, and heard her laugh.
I headed upstairs to the shared bathroom. My mind was churning with everything — the article, the work anxiety, tomorrow’s meeting with Lauren. I needed to think, to process.
I ran a bath, something I rarely did, and sank into the hot water. The heat helped ease some of the tension from my shoulders, and I let my mind wander through possible scenarios for tomorrow’s conversation with Lauren. What would I even say? How could I get through to her?
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t hear the door open until Emma spoke.
“I’m not interrupting, am I? Do you want to be alone?”
I looked up to see her standing in the doorway, still completely naked from downstairs, Dad’s cum cleaned off but her skin still flushed from the sex. Her hair was slightly messed, lips still swollen from sucking my cock. She looked thoroughly fucked and absolutely beautiful.
“I always have time for you, Em,” I said.
Instead of climbing in immediately, Emma sat on the edge of the tub, her legs dangling into the water, her feet finding my thighs beneath the surface. She looked at me with those expressive eyes, reading my mood instantly.
“You’re really worried about tomorrow,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. I don’t know what to expect. Lauren’s unpredictable.”
“Do you still want her to come to the retreat?” Emma asked, her toes sliding up my leg playfully. “We could just ... not tell her where the bus is. Ghost her.”
I considered it. “Part of me wants to. Would be so much simpler.”
“But?”
“I know Mom and Dad laid down the law. One more fuckup and she’s out. But maybe this wasn’t her fuckup.” I chewed the tip of my finger and splashed some water. “What am I saying? This is totally her fuckup.”
Emma was quiet for a moment, her feet still moving in the water, tracing patterns on my skin. “I think people deserve second chances. Third chances, even. Especially people who are scared and alone and don’t know how to handle what they’re feeling.”
“You’re very nice for fifteen. But some people, the sooner you write them off, the better.”
“I’m getting to be a well-fucked fifteen,” she corrected with a grin. “But yeah, I’m pretty amazing.”
I laughed, and some of the tension eased. Emma always had that effect — making heavy things feel lighter just by being herself.
Emma slid off the edge of the tub and into the water with me, settling between my legs with her back against my chest like before. The water level rose dangerously close to the edge, but neither of us cared. She fit perfectly against me, her wet skin slippery and warm.
“How was your weekend?” I asked, my arms wrapping around her waist. “With everything happening, I feel like we haven’t really talked.”
“It was good. Weird, but good. Jessica took me shopping on Friday, and we talked about boys and college and totally normal sister stuff. Then we went to her house and had a threesome with Dad, so I guess not totally normal.” She giggled. “I love our family, Ethan. I love that we can be both things — normal and completely fucking insane.”
“Me too.”
“And work was crazy with the article, right? Everyone freaking out?”
“Yeah. Had a moment with Katherine that was really intense. She was falling apart, terrified of losing what Blackwood gave her. We had sex, but it wasn’t just sex. It was ... affirmation. Proof that what we built matters.”
Emma turned in the water to face me, straddling my lap now. Her small breasts were just above the water line, nipples hard from the temperature change. “That’s beautiful. That’s what this should be — connection and meaning, along with just getting off.”
“Exactly.”
She leaned in and kissed me, soft and sweet at first, then deeper. Her tongue slid into my mouth, and I tasted mint toothpaste — she must have brushed after cleaning up from Dad. My hands found her hips, pulling her closer, and I felt my cock hardening between us.
“Again?” I asked against her lips. “You were just drenched in cum.”
“I always want you,” she said simply. “Besides, the bath is going to get cold. We should warm it up.”
She reached down and positioned my cock at her entrance, then sank down slowly. We both gasped as she took me inside, the water creating different sensations—everything slicker, the heat surrounding us, the way sound carried differently in the bathroom.
Emma started riding me slowly, her hips rolling in small circles, not trying to race to the finish but savoring the connection. Her hands braced on my shoulders, and we maintained eye contact, watching each other’s faces change with pleasure.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too. So much.”
We made love like that for a while — slow and intimate, the water sloshing gently around us. But eventually, the position became awkward in the confined space of the tub.
“Turn around,” I said. “Hands on the edge.”
Emma lifted off me and repositioned, on her hands and knees in the tub, her ass raised, her hands gripping the edge. I knelt behind her, running my hands over her wet body — the curve of her spine, the dimples above her ass, the perfect globes of her cheeks.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, positioning myself at her entrance.
“Show me how much you think so,” she challenged, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked grin.
I pushed inside her from behind, this angle deeper than before, and Emma moaned loudly. I started slow — long, deliberate strokes, watching my cock disappear into her tight pussy again and again. Water splashed with each movement, some spilling over the edge of the tub onto the floor, but neither of us cared.
I increased my pace, gripping her hips, pulling her back onto my cock with more force. The bathroom filled with the sounds of wet skin slapping, Emma’s moans echoing off the tiles, water splashing everywhere.
“Yes,” Emma gasped. “Fuck, yes, just like that —”
I reached around and found her clit, rubbing it while I fucked her, and Emma’s arms nearly gave out from the intensity. She braced her elbows on the edge of the tub instead, her face close to the water, her ass pushed up high for me.
“I’m close,” she warned. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop —”
I didn’t. I kept up the hard, steady rhythm, my fingers working her clit, my cock driving deep inside her with each thrust. The water was chaos around us now, half of it on the floor, but all I could focus on was Emma — her body, her sounds, the way her pussy gripped me.
She came with a scream, her whole body convulsing, her pussy clenching so tight around me that it almost hurt. The sensation pushed me over the edge — I buried myself as deep as I could go and came hard, filling her with whatever reserves of the day I had left, my hands digging deep into her hips.
We stayed connected for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, the water finally settling around us. Then Emma turned carefully in the tub and kissed me, deep and grateful.
“That was exactly what I was hoping for,” she said. “A house full of cocks, ready for me whenever I need them.”
“All you gotta do is flash that little puss, sis.”
“Whatever happens,” Emma whispered as she finally stood up and stretched, “I’m glad we had this summer.”
“Me too.”
We got out carefully, everything on the floor was sopping wet. We dried each other off, cleaned up the water, and eventually made our way to my bed. Emma curled against me, both of us naked and sated, and within minutes she was asleep.
I lay awake longer, holding my sister, thinking about tomorrow. About Lauren and whatever conversation was coming. About the retreat looming in less than a week. About the article and whatever gears might be turning because of it.
But with Emma warm and safe in my arms, breathing softly against my chest, some of the anxiety faded. Whatever came next, we’d face it together. As a family.
That had to be enough.
Tuesday morning, I woke up, and dreaded to check online. But the compulsion was impossible to reset, so I checked the article, any related newsblogs, and twitter.
The article had gone viral.
Not so much in the way I’d feared — not with outrage and calls for investigation. Instead, it had become a meme. Social media was full of jokes and parodies, people making fun of the sensational tone while being genuinely intrigued by the concept.
“Let me in to the apocalypse spa” was trending on Twitter, with people photoshopping themselves into screenshots from Wolf of Wall Street.
“Doomsday but make it orgy” had spawned countless variations.
“Corporate-sponsored family bonding exercises” became a punchline.
“DEI Company Policies? More Like Dick In the Eye”
“Team-building and Trust Falls with the Boss’s Daughter, sign me up”
“Mom and Dad Made me get a Job, now they’re making me give Blowjobs”
I scrolled through dozens of tweets, my anxiety slowly transforming into confused relief. People weren’t scandalized — they were entertained. The article was too over-the-top, too tabloid, to be taken seriously by the mainstream.
There were some negative responses, of course — pearl-clutchers and moralists calling for investigations. But they were drowned out by the mockery and fascination.
I showed my phone to Emma over breakfast, and she shrugged, shaking her head and laughing.
“We’re a meme,” she said, delighted. “We’re literally a fucking meme.”
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