Author’s Note: Given how dehumanized the contact lenses and lips make her look, a spooky objectification story seemed most appropriate. As I was writing it, I remembered one of my all-time favourite lines in an MC story, from Community by Tabico, and it gave me my ending. Having read this humble caption, you should go read Community and admire a true artisan at work.


It wasn’t sure what it was anymore.

It had been a person, once. Sometimes when its glass eyes weren’t locked to the spiral on the wall and its plastic lips weren’t being used to bring an Owner to orgasm, it had enough time to remember being a person. The memories were weird, though, and disconnected from anything. It understood that Owners were people, but it had no memory of being an Owner, because…

Owners own toys. All toys are owned.

Its plastic body stiffened and its glossy lips reshaped into an O, revealing the dark inside its empty, plastic head. It had activated a Truth, and Truth always wiped away thought and memory. That was as it should be.

It knows only Truth. All else is wiped clean.

For a moment, its head was ringing and it was overcome by the need to be Used and Filled.

Its purpose is to be to Used. Its holes exist to be Filled.

But since no Owners were present, after a few minutes the gnawing emptiness it was helpless to fulfill subsided, and it was aware of faraway things drifting in the expanse of its head again. Thoughts. Memories. The nagging notion it had once been something else, something other than a toy.

The nagging grew more intense, and it shivered, its body locked in place, lacking the will to move. Something in its head was attempting to assert itself, something strange, hard to understand… it was hard to understand anything beyond the Truth… all else was wiped clean.

But the something remained. The thought coalesced into a form, a slender vertical mark that reminded it of nothing so much as the deep dark gap of its plastic cleavage, or the slit in its plastic pussy that existed only for an Owner to Fill.

The dark form loomed larger in its mind’s eye, hard-edged, black, blotting out the sun. Its plastic body shivered again, and it felt something like fear, teetering on the edge of a horrible revelation.

A door opened, and an Owner walked in. Naked, aroused, clearly intent on Using the toy, on Filling at least one of its holes. It turned to face the Owner, and its plastic lips trembled. It did not normally speak unless told to—that was a Truth—but it had to give voice to the form intruding on its mind.

“I… I. I.”

The Owner gave the toy a strange look, and then exhaled loudly, annoyed.

“I see what’s happened. Come along with me, now.”

The Owner took it by the arm and led it over to the other side of the room, to a full-length mirrored screen.

“Look at the screen now as it reminds you of the Truth.”

The Owner touched something on the wall, and a pulsing, multi-coloured spiral played over top of the toy’s reflection. As it watched the spiral it stiffened again, this time into a pose of rigid, hypnotized attention. It had no ability to resist the Spiral. That was one of the deepest Truths of all.

“Now. What was it you said?”

Only because the Owner asked did it try to remember. The form was already shrinking in the light of the Spiral, replaced by a dumb admiration of its perfect reflection.

“I? I… i… i?” The toy’s voice trailed to silence.

The Owner caressed the curve of its back, squeezed its firm plastic asscheek, and started to finger one of its holes.

“That’s better. Of course, you remember the Truth: I? There’s no such thing.”