No longer writing captions here. All new captions are now on inallsortsoftrouble. Link to follow in post below. NOTE: The contents of this blog are fantasy and not indicative of reality or my political and socio-cultural views.
She'd hated the barn. They'd brought her there every two weeks since she'd first been captured, caught off guard during a MWO raid. Stripped off her clothes and put in chains, she never made it to a processing facility. Instead, she was immediately put to work on a farm, day in and day out. She'd work mostly with the animals, cleaning their poop, milking cows, carrying tools around and moving supplies. At night, they made her sleep with the pigs in their sty, forcing her to grovel in their shit, in their filth, in the dirt. She'd hoped she'd at least have some human contact, another prisoner like her at least. But besides the two farmhands that ordered her around, the only peers she had were the pigs who's crap she slept in.
The barn was where she was bathed every two weeks. 'Bathed' was generous, she'd initially thought. The farmhands never said a word to her, but every two weeks, they'd bring her to the barn and gossip about the goings on in the MWO as they hosed her down like an animal. Two weeks of accumulating filth would wash her away though she barely felt clean after. They wouldn't dry her, they wouldn't give her a towel, they'd just leave after hosing her, leaving her shackled to her "hose block" as she'd started calling it for the night, dripping wet and shivering in the cold, her breasts and erect nipples dangling beneath her.
The alone time gave her time to think and remember a different time. Time, of course, had no meaning to her anymore. Her measure of time was simple now. Before capture. And after capture, measured by the number of baths she'd had.
This one had been bath #23, whatever that meant. As the farmhands left her for the night, she ventured back into her memory. A lot of it didn't make sense anymore... a time before her capture when she was more human than she was now. But she cling onto those memories as much as she could. She remembered.
While she felt more pig and beast now, she'd remembered how she was a feminist politician. How she'd been an outspoken critic of the emerging Male World Order and how she had worked with a group of other feminist politicians around the world to do their best to hold off the MWO. They'd failed completely and learned that they'd all been put on a list. The MWO was hunting them. And so she went into hiding. Until she'd been captured. Until she was brought here and turned into this.
Deep in her memory, she hadn't even realized that she'd been pissing on herself the entire time, no regard for any human decorum. She'd never notice it, as she stayed on the block on all fours. She didn't realize that the farmhands had deliberately not shackled her to the block that night, that she could have made a run for it if she wanted to. She didn't realize the poop she made right in that very spot, her eyes lost in a daze. Come morning, when the farmhands came to retrieve her, she didn't realize that she'd followed them out on her hands and knees on her own accord, without the collar and leash like they usually used.
She hadn't realized that the MWO's plans for her and her peers had worked flawlessly. She was no longer human... just another ex-feminist pig.
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She'd hated the barn. They'd brought her there every two weeks since she'd first been captured, caught off guard during a MWO raid. Stripped off her clothes and put in chains, she never made it to a processing facility. Instead, she was immediately put to work on a farm, day in and day out. She'd work mostly with the animals, cleaning their poop, milking cows, carrying tools around and moving supplies. At night, they made her sleep with the pigs in their sty, forcing her to grovel in their shit, in their filth, in the dirt. She'd hoped she'd at least have some human contact, another prisoner like her at least. But besides the two farmhands that ordered her around, the only peers she had were the pigs who's crap she slept in.
The barn was where she was bathed every two weeks. 'Bathed' was generous, she'd initially thought. The farmhands never said a word to her, but every two weeks, they'd bring her to the barn and gossip about the goings on in the MWO as they hosed her down like an animal. Two weeks of accumulating filth would wash her away though she barely felt clean after. They wouldn't dry her, they wouldn't give her a towel, they'd just leave after hosing her, leaving her shackled to her "hose block" as she'd started calling it for the night, dripping wet and shivering in the cold, her breasts and erect nipples dangling beneath her.
The alone time gave her time to think and remember a different time. Time, of course, had no meaning to her anymore. Her measure of time was simple now. Before capture. And after capture, measured by the number of baths she'd had.
This one had been bath #23, whatever that meant. As the farmhands left her for the night, she ventured back into her memory. A lot of it didn't make sense anymore... a time before her capture when she was more human than she was now. But she cling onto those memories as much as she could. She remembered.
While she felt more pig and beast now, she'd remembered how she was a feminist politician. How she'd been an outspoken critic of the emerging Male World Order and how she had worked with a group of other feminist politicians around the world to do their best to hold off the MWO. They'd failed completely and learned that they'd all been put on a list. The MWO was hunting them. And so she went into hiding. Until she'd been captured. Until she was brought here and turned into this.
Deep in her memory, she hadn't even realized that she'd been pissing on herself the entire time, no regard for any human decorum. She'd never notice it, as she stayed on the block on all fours. She didn't realize that the farmhands had deliberately not shackled her to the block that night, that she could have made a run for it if she wanted to. She didn't realize the poop she made right in that very spot, her eyes lost in a daze. Come morning, when the farmhands came to retrieve her, she didn't realize that she'd followed them out on her hands and knees on her own accord, without the collar and leash like they usually used.
She hadn't realized that the MWO's plans for her and her peers had worked flawlessly. She was no longer human... just another ex-feminist pig.