It's not long before I'm maked, a collar? I can't even think anymore. My mind is completely lost and I'm almost thankful to being on all fours. I barely notice the sound of tapping. I barely notice the wet tongue as it pushes against my cunt. Everyone else does, they stare, unsure if how to handle it as every lap teases a whine from my drunken lips. They keep watching as I start to whine louder, pushing back into the tongue as I do.

I wish that I could go somewhere the only foods available to me were edibles and the only drinks available were alcoholic. Ideally, I'd be able to stay as long as I like, though no less than a day, and once there, I'd have two options. Either, I could learn how to pace myself in order to keep my level of intoxication manageable, until the sensation of hunger becomes background noise and I'm able to ignore my appetite. Or, I could eat and drink as much as I want, and completely incapacitate myself in the process.

Knowing my self-control, the latter would be inevitable.

All it would take is one moment of weakness, a poor decision based in boredom, hunger, thirst, or some combination of the three. Less than an hour later, and I'm so completely crossed that nothing makes sense and I can't tell whether I'm awake or not, barely able to think at all. At that level of intoxication, my impulse control would be even worse, drawing me further into this loop of constantly needing more.

My mind would feel floaty and spinny, and I'd surely try to share whatever I'm thinking about to whoever would listen, but a combination of slurred words and impossibly blurred vision renders most communication impossible. Vague sounds and motions are still possible, though a bit clumsy, and it'd likely be a pathetic display. A dumb puppy stoned out of their mind, whining and squirming because that's all they know anymore.

After a certain point, even the hardest liquors wouldn't burn anymore. At around that same point, I'd be stumbling so badly that I practically collapse each time I collide with a wall. Eventually, I'd stop trying to get back up.

Blacking out is basically a guarantee, but I'd wake up still drunk no matter how much later that is - I'd never be hungover because the alcohol would never get the chance to leave my system. I'd be unable to comprehend the passage of time, and unaware as chunks of it go missing.

If someone were to find me in this state, I'd be helpless against them. Dumb, drooling, unable to figure out how to get my body to cooperate with what little remains of my mind.

If you were to find me like this, what would you do?

Would you bring me water that you snuck in? Take me home and gently ease me back to reality, caring for me when the sickness and hangover finally finds its way to me? Check in with me as I recover from the damage I've just done to myself, make sure that I'm okay?

Or, would you take advantage of the state I'm in? Feed me another gummy, help me wash it down with a shot, and feel how ready I am to be used? I'm in no state to protest, and I wouldn't even if I could. Use me, treat me like a sex toy and know that I'm loving every moment of this sensation - not that it matters. I can't do anything in this state, I can't run, I can barely walk! So, take advantage of this, take advantage of me.

If I sober up enough to speak, I'll likely be begging for more from the second I'm able to speak. More alcohol, sure, more weed, sure, but most importantly, more of this. More of you. More being useful without trying, more being a living sex toy for your pleasure.

When you've had your fun, it wouldn't matter to me what you do with me after. You could circle back to the option from before, cleaning me up and bringing me back to the world. Or, you could keep me locked in a thoughtless realm of intoxication, always high and horny, even when unconscious. You could bring me back to normalcy, or keep me as a toy for the rest of my life. No matter which you choose, I'd feel nothing but gratitude.

So, what'll it be?

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