Her best friend Aimee

"What are you talking about? Girls are sluts?" Madison stared at her bestie Aimee in disbelief. They were sitting on the living room floor of Aimee's house, surrounded by pillows and blankets. The TV was on but muted, as they each sipped on their third hard seltzer.

Aimee nodded, her eyes glinting with a strange mix of amusement and bitterness. "Yep. We've been lied to all our lives. All this stuff about equality and strength just isn't true. Girl's are sluts... dumb, useless fuck sluts who only exist for men's pleasure."

Madison felt her stomach churn. She had known Aimee since they were kids, and she had never heard her talk like this before. "That's... that's crazy," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aimee shrugged. "It's the truth. And you know it as well as I do." She leaned in closer, her voice lowered, her tone confidential. "You've seen it too. How guys treat us. They only want one thing from us, and we let them have it because we think that's all we're good for."

Madison's mind raced, recalling instances where she had felt objectified or used by boys. She couldn't deny there was some truth to Aimee's words, but it was disturbing to hear her best friend talking like this.

"But... we're more than that," Madison protested weakly. "We're smart, talented, capable of so many things."

Aimee smiled with ambivalence. "But are we really? Do you feel capable of greatness? Besides, when you're masturbating doesn't it feel like all is right with the world?"

Madison couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to what Aimee was saying. Of course it was crazy and ludicrous. But she did trust her friend more than anyone else in the world. Were they really just objects for men's pleasure?

The **** had gone to her head, and Madison felt dizzy and disoriented. She looked at Aimee, trying to read her expression in the dim light of the room. Aimee's eyes were dark and intense, and Madison couldn't tell if maybe she was just playing with her.

"So what do you think we should do about it?" Madison asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aimee smiled, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Maybe we should just accept it and be sluts for men's pleasure," she said, reaching for her phone and quickly snapping a picture of her friend, capturing Madison in a confused and **** state, wearing a tight white pajama shirt that in the flash of the camera might be very see through.

Madison's heart skipped a beat. "What are you doing?" she demanded, grabbing for the phone. But it was too late.

Aimee held it out of reach, her smile widening. "I'm going to show you just how true I am." She hit send, and the message disappeared into the digital ether.

Madison's stomach churned as she imagined the photo of her being shared with God knows who. A part of her wanted to grab her things and run out of Aimee's house, but another part of her was morbidly curious.