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The meatpuppet, as I had taught it to refer to itself when in my presence, had started finally relaxing.

It had come to me today without prior arrangement; it had blurted out to me about its great and pressing need to be reduced, on account of its hectic day at its regular, high-end managerial job.

It begged me to help it become nothing. To be my object once more.

I told it that if I did, it would stay my object for the weekend. It complied.

I grabbed it by its throat, choking it, raising it from the floor just a bit. I looked deep in its sparkling cerulean eyes, seeking the agreement I wanted. Finding it.

A couple of busy hours later and I have chosen to keep my obedient meatpuppet as an ornament; tied, exposed and in sensory deprivation, it will struggle and make pleasing noises for me until I decide to give it a different use.