Yoki, come back

He said that I'm not a defect, that I'm perfect and his cute little boy. Then he blocked me.

The morning after I found out he was using me, I rubbed myself through my panties and moaned his name, and for the first time since I started taking antidepressants, I came.

I know I'm disgusting, but to him, I'm perfect. I told him, "I'm still yours", to which he replied, "And I'm yours."

It appears he doesn't believe me, but when he finds my limbs in his childhood toybox, he'll be confused until he hears a dog whimpering outside.

He'll open the door and see a fleshy mess, a limbless human with a dog's face stitched onto it.

That "human" will be me.

In my jaws, I will be holding an ownership certificate with his name.

And he will finally believe that I'm his.