#objectification fantasy

Pig knelt on the mat in the washroom. She had been here long enough to count all of the little blue tiles that covered the walls and floors. She wasn't any good at counting though. She'd always lose track and start rubbing. Forgetting her numbers was something to edge to, but she didn't notice her upper limit getting lower every time she tried. Eventually, she'd snap out of it and lick her sloppy mess off the mat. It gave her a chance to wake up her legs and shake her piggy tail.

Most days, she was allowed to wallow in her filth, watching the porn Daddy and Mommy Moo Moo prepared for her. She loved her porn. She loved being used in front of the spiral and left to leak her brain away as the screen pump pump pumped dirty thoughts into her placid piggy brain. But the washroom was different. It was clean and quiet, which left pig alone with her own piggy thoughts.

Sometimes the silence was interrupted and pig got to serve. She'd run her tongue over the sweaty bodies of pretty girls who would laugh at her. Sometimes she would bury her snout between their cheeks and rim rim rim. Sometimes someone would grab her by the hair, press her face to their crotch and say the word pig most longed to hear.

"Seal."

Pig's tongue would dart out and if she was good and drank every drop, maybe they would use her face to cum. Their orgasms were more important, after all. Shy girls were always the cutest. They asked quietly and made the cutest sounds when they came. They'd even spray pig down with the hose if she had been well used or particularly sloppy. Sometimes the cute girls would let pig edge on the stream, but pig preferred a rougher touch most of the time.

Mommy Moo Moo wasn't so cautious. She knew pig wouldn't break. Pig loved the way her leather boots felt as she humped them. Pig always found her mouth open, ready to receive as the hooks held her nose in that degrading, upturned position. Mommy's musk made piggy leak slop. Mommy's milk made piggy drunk with lust. Mommy's slaps reminded piggy of her place and every session left piggy filthy and Mommy clean.

You can feel my grip on your brain, can't you? Tendrils of pleasure slipping between the folds and making you melt in ecstasy. You like the way I play with your mind as you just writhe beneath my touch. It feels good to be mindfucked. It feels so good to give in. Then you hear the

POP!

The light goes out behind your eyes. Your body goes limp and you start to drool as you watch me carry your brain away. I lower the quivering pink mound of flesh into a jar and the liquid inside rushes in. You can't think. You can't move. You can only watch as I set the jar up on a shelf just beyond your field of vision.

There's something so erotic about being truly brainless. Without your brain, your holes just leak so they can be used. You flop down onto the bed and I can watch your body begging to be used, even if you can't properly enjoy it. I take my time, enjoying the way your empty fleshlight of a form performs its purpose automatically. I empty my balls deep inside you and then I roll you over to look into your glassy eyes.

Your ears hear me talking. You watch my cock deflating and glistening with your mess. You understand nothing because you really are just an object. I can't leave you like this too long or you might forget how to swallow, but I'm enjoying just how useless you are for everything but my pleasure like this.

Your eyes light up when you're back in your body. All the sensations, the words, the memories of the moments between brainless and brainwashed come rushing back. You don't remember your name, your address, who you were before or what you wanted to be. The jar took all that away. But you remember how good it felt to be empty and then full and then empty and then full...

You catch yourself absently sucking Daddy back to hardness and you giggle when you realize what an airhead you've been. You get down on all fours and offer your holes again and try to answer Daddy's questions.

What was it like?

How did it feel?

How do you feel now?

What are you thinking?

Of course, you're not really thinking. You're saying what's true between moans and shudders as your body rewards you for being useful. You're just a brain in an obedient body, a necessary part to keep getting Daddy off. But you're glad you don't remember. You're glad you don't really think. You're glad your eager holes tell you exactly how the words you say affect Daddy so you don't have to stop babbling. Maybe you can't stay brainless all the time, but you can be a bubbly, brainwashed bundle of pretty, programmed, plowable fuckmeat and that feels pretty good too.