Today, there is such a huge demand to enjoy witnessing women undertake a fun, safe, exhilarating abortion.
But it was not always this way.
Yet time passes, and generations come and go. And meanwhile, everything progresses.
Few alive now remember even reading of the ancient dark ages—back when anti-choice political terrorists actually criminalized abortion.
After that era of anti-woman evil, there were successive periods of enlightenment: first, homo sapiens sapiens became homo sapiens sapiens sapiens, and thereby gained the spark of wisdom which allowed them to understand that murdering children was a human right.
Yet still, throughout the last of the years when savage and superstitious anti-murder fools died off, for a period of time, abortions—though technically legal—were hidden away in shame-centers called “hospitals,” instead of being performed publicly, in front of cheering crowds who waited with orgasmic anticipation as an image of the empowerer’s hand, projected on a giant screen, inched closer and closer to the hilariously twistable non-neck of the undue burden, while the empowered evacuator rubbed her clit furiously—hoping to reach the progressive Nirvana of timing her sexual release to coincide with the instant that a fun, efficient, empowering, responsible, safe, legal, and rare choice occurred inside the evacuator’s internal penis (which savages of the ancient times had referred to ridiculously as a “womb”).
But among those who were enjoying the fun, fulfilling, safe ceremony only vicariously—the most powerful and visceral part was not seeing the undue burden choiced into a writhing pile of empowerment; rather it was after the empowerer had crammed a microphone up the evacuator’s inverted penis, right up against the non-mouth of the zygote, and then the empowerer slowly twisted the non-head of the clump of cells.
Scientists had eventually discovered that slowly twisting causes a significant increase in the length and loudness of a bacteria’s shrieking as it is gloriously prevented from ruining the life of an evacuator.
And it is those loud and long shrieks—passed through the microphone within the evacuator’s inverted penis and then blasted through huge speakers to the delight of the crowds—these shrieks are the crowd’s most overwhelming moment: some laugh until they lose consciousness; others attempt to coordinate their own sexual release with the soothingly shrill throes of non-death; some even become so overwhelmed with the happiness of our utopia that, upon hearing the frantic shrieks of the non-child, a joy so immense overtakes the crowd members that they drop dead from delight.