treatmelikeshit

You are an ugly, degenerate poor excuse for a woman. 

You are worthless, pathetic, sub-human scum. 

Your mouth will be my urinal, my rubbish bin and my ashtray. 

Your arse will be my favourite fuckhole, your cunt my favourite punching bag. 

Your tits will be my blank canvas for bruises, marks and slogans. 

Your face will be slapped, spat upon, pissed upon, cum upon and ground into my sweaty fat arsehole. 

Your hair will be a mop for any fluids we spill. 

You are going to hate me and need me simultaneously. 

You want mean men on here to want to make you feel like absolute garbage. 

They will be completely mean and horrid. 

They will point out all your insecurities and flaws and tell you how to make them better (worse). 

They will tell you to dump a trash bin on your head and fuck yourself with the contents.

They will tell you to piss on your own face. 

They will tell you to fuck your cunt, ass and face like that in your pathetic pissy life. 

They will tell you to make yourself dirty by cleaning yourself with a toilet brush. 

you want to be gross for Men.

you want to be embarrassed. 

you want them to treat you like you are subhuman.

you're not even a person.

you will be made to feel humiliated for what you want.

you will be made to cry.

your life will be ruined by the hands of stranger online Men. 

“That’s it you fucking anal whore. You gross fuckpig.” I hiss at you through gritted teeth. Groaning and moaning after every thrust. As you whimper and squeal and sputter water all over your own face. Gargling and hair soaked.

Imagine how humiliated you’d feel. How degraded. Treated like less. Like filth. As I pound your ass for what feels like an hour. Railing you from behind with violent thrusts. Not thinking of your pleasure at all. Just thinking about mine. As I use your asshole like my personal cocksleeve. My personal fuckhole.

“Fuck you look so pathetic and your ass is so fucking tight. I’m not stopping until your hole is worn out and gaping. Well fucking take it!.” I growl as the tightness of your ass almost makes me cum.

This while you are flailing about.

While your head is pushed into the toilet.

Gasping for air.

Feeling like less.

Like filth.

Like an object made to be mocked. Made to be bullied. Made to be used.

My hand at the back of your neck. Holding your head in place. Pushing you down. While I keep dicking you down. Keep ruining your asshole till it’s sore and stretched and ruined. Until I’m loudly blasting your ass full of my seed. Pushing your head down and suffocating you in the toilet as we both see stars. I’m emptying my cum inside your ass. Your ass get filled. Until I pull out and seed starts spilling from your ruined fucking hole.

You want me to objectify you and fully reduce you to your weight, don't you? Weighing you every morning, punishing you if you haven't gained enough weight over night to satisfy my desires.

You want me to use you, don't you? Having me fuck you whenever the mood strikes me, groping your growing body all over, keeping you horny and on the edge, yet only letting you cum once you've finished your food.

You want me to degrade you, don't you? You want to be told what a worthless waste of oxygen you are, that you only serve as a vessel for fat to please me. Your opinions, thoughts, and feelings have no value.

You want to be reminded of what you have become, don't you? An absolute huge pile of blubber, incapable of functioning on its own, always horny and hungry, a mindless pig who only thinks about the next meal.

it takes a moment to realize that i’m restrained, wrists and ankles cuffed, that i’m lying on a cold, metal table, that the hands are gloved with nitrile or latex, and the grabbing is actually prodding and poking and probing, measurements called out, pens scratching to write down numbers and observations. the fingers in my mouth are counting my teeth and checking them for major defects. the hand at my throat is measuring the circumference, and then the length, mapping out my arteries and trachea. the hands in most places are accompanied by instruments, whether tapes or rulers or calipers or blood pressure cuffs or whatever it is they’ve forced dry into my cunt to see what it can take without any preparation.

there’s an iv in my arm that i don’t notice until somebody begins measuring my palm and fingers, twisting me this way and that to make it easier on themself. pens scratch against paper as notes are taken, measurements recorded, observations dictated.