Trapped Between Her Legs

Don’t you understand irony? Don’t you realize men can say that word as a little private joke, to amuse themselves?

Don’t you realize it’s not always sexist?

Back when I still had my body, I was as feminist as they come. Look it up. You’ll find those hashtags I retweeted, those petitions I signed. Hey, I even voted for Hillary all those years ago, despite the questions then surrounding her candidacy.

But I guess you bitches were never interested in evidence, were you?

No, you’d already decided. Up on your moral high horses. You were going to break me, like you want to break all men.

How else can you justify the cruelty of my punishment?

It sounds so funny, doesn’t it? So like a joke. The judge even laughed as she announced my sentence, pointed that staff at me; the one that made my body start to warp and change.

Made my arms bunch up against my sides… made my legs fold up into nothing… made my head vanish – cutting off my screams – and my body shrink, as a big slit opened down the front of me…

What was it she said again?

Ha. Like I could ever forget, even if I wanted too.

“Let the punishment fit the crime!”

Let it fit the crime indeed.

It’s getting lighter now. The gloom beneath the sheets is giving way to a warmer, softer light.

Soon, my mistress will wake up. I can already feel the gentle flow of blood into my plump lips. Already, I can feel the faint, warm tingle as my sleeping form comes to life, slowly aroused by dreams I can’t see; dreams my mistress is having about hunky men and depraved sex and endless copulation.

Any minute now, I’ll feel her stir to life. She might lazily reach a finger down, slip it inside me, wake herself up with an orgasm.

Or she might just start rubbing me against her bunched-up sheets, half asleep as she forces me to drip and shiver and oh-so-faintly pleasure her.

I only hope I get to say my piece first.

It was cruel what you did, you know? Placing me here, between the legs of a common whore.