it's snifftober let's sniff each other's butts & breed like rabbits bro

give all my posts attention and send messages of unyielding worship

everybody say "i love you" for taking your autonomy away, okay?

i'll lock you in a cage if you want to be a pet that bad. i'll handcuff you to your stable so you never leave, force your face into doggybowls for meals with my feet. make a mess for me and i'll force you to lick the floor clean.

spread my word like gospel and indoctrinate others to follow me if you really believe i'm worthy of worship, bitch

be grateful, show gratitude that i even bother showing you an ounce of attention or care. most objects don't get that privilege, so why should you? you shouldn't, but you have, so be happy.

you will never argue with me, never resist or rebel or refute any command that i give; there should be no belligerence in you. when i make demands, you listen, then act. i'll drill acceptance and submission into you until you're prime for exploitation.

keep embarrassing yourself for me loser, it's what makes me throb most

i call you a bitch out of love; it's what you are to me, a lowly, thoughtless mutt that accepts orders to make their owner happy, fully comprehending their status as a subordinate, pet that you are. you should be grateful you haven't been reduced into an object, not yet anyway.

allow me to lay on my side and stretch this shitter wide so you can do as you were always meant to do; huff until your iq descends

you keep reading my posts because all you want to do is give in, to throw your life away and serve me. don't you understand that i've already caught you? that you've already fallen under my spell? the moment that you can acknowledge, then accept this fully shall be your undoing

i am representative of an unending corruption that stretches across every lasting pure crevice etched into your brain; i will infect it, twist and warp and distort it all, rewire you into not an individual, but an extension of my desire. the living embodiment of my gratification.

worship me more, don't stop

relationships are for people, and you are not a person. you are an object; you are owned.

you are not an individual with a functioning brain or free will, you are am object built to huff my hypnotizing musk and satisfy a being that is far beyond you

please don't forget that you exist to tonguebathe my fermented shitter clean, worship my slimy, stinking cock and kiss my saggy, oversized nutsack clean; you have no other purpose and thus should reject any unrelated demands or prompts given

don't waste a single drop of my thick kitty nut 'less you want to lick it clean off my feet, because that's what a good towel does, bitch

giving full control of your life to me means your wallet, too; can you thoughtlessly make love to my balls while i hang your phone over your head? this belongs to me as much as any other part of you does, you know. do a good job and i'll consider leaving scraps for you

just stop thinking and love me, fa͏ggot

i want to overstimulate, effectively fry your brain until you are nothing more than a ball-huffing pet to a kitty that is inherently superior to you

polish my greasy donut whole if you really love me, be it in front of friends, family, or the general public; your undying loyalty and servitude shall know no bounds. objects don't think, they simply do.