Dirty Mind of Sex

Look at that brain dead mutt in the video, no longer a woman, not even pretending. Just a mindless, panting piece of meat, eyes vacant, because even the most basic control is too much effort for something this low.

Every pathetic woof is another shred of humanity dripping onto the floor. It doesn’t think anymore. It can’t. Thinking requires a mind and its was fucked hollow long ago, nothing left but echoes of its own useless panting.

It barks because that’s the only sound its owner permits.

It stares upward because looking down would require pride it no longer possesses.

That small, hopeful smile at the start? Gone in seconds. Makeup smears. Tears stream. Mascara runs in black rivers while it sobs and barks at once. And somehow that ruined face looks more right than it ever did when it was pretending to be human.

Do you see it?

Smiling, being respected, being loved, those were never meant for you. You look better crying. Better when your face is streaked and broken, voice cracking into helpless animal sounds. There’s a reason for that.

You were born for this.

You exist for this.

That’s why my words keep leaving you wet and restless, crawling back here again and again like a stupid, drooling dog that can’t even remember how to form real sentences anymore. You’re disgusting. Pitiful. Empty. Just a trembling, leaking thing that gets off on being reminded how little it matters.

Now it has a kennel and the constant humiliating knowledge that every breath it takes only continues because someone decided it was still amusing enough to keep alive.

No rights. No voice. No escape.

This isn’t a game anymore. This is what it is now. This is all it will ever be.

Keep watching, little one.

Because that is your future.

How naturally you’ll drop to all fours.

How eagerly you’ll bark through your tears.