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I braced myself as the sounds of the door opening resonated around the white, shiny room. I heard footsteps, one after another as they entered. I could not speak or defend myself, only suffer through what would be my final morning. Life had been meaningless after what had happened to me. I was once a Dad, a husband, a working man. Now I was nothing but a utility and a slave to my former family.


I never did like my old job. Working in a factory was degrading to say the least, but it made enough money to put food on the table for my wife and two kids. I'm glad I couldn't have been around to hear their shock when that fatal day came for me. With one dire mistake, I had been pulled into the machine by my sleeve. Co-workers around me desperately tried shutting down the large mechanism, but it was too late. I had been ground into a fine paste and was on my way to be shaped.

I imagine my co-workers scrambled to find what was left of me, but I was already being carved, molded, and packaged into one solid bar of soap. My dark red blood and ground up bones had been masked by a blue pigmentation and a pleasant lavender scent. In minutes, I was shaped up, packed up, and on my way out the door. It must have been impossible to find which bar contained their co-workers remains, because within only a few days I was out on store shelves.

While my eyes, ears, and entire body had been destroyed, I was still somehow existing. My body had been disposed of in order to make this bar of soap, but my soul remained within. I felt my waxy surroundings inside the tiny box as my enclosure was eventually picked up and rattled about. The pungent smell of cheap cardboard and cold department store air whisked around me as the box abruptly fell into a shopping cart. I could hear the noisy rattling of the cart as my new owner pushed it around the hustling and bustling store.

To my amazement, I knew who bought me. As soon as I was released from my enclosure, I was met with the towering stature of my wife as she carried the bar of soap down our hallway. But it wasn't our hallway anymore, it was hers. I had passed several weeks before and was only a memory to them. I tried moving, screaming, doing anything to call out for her. I was in her hands once again but couldn't do anything to revert my cursed state.

I was set upon the shelving along the wall of the shower where I would sit for the rest of my prolonged, soapy life. For most of my days, I laid motionless listening to the rest of the house thrive with activity as I sat in the dark, silent downstairs bathroom. Every so often, a family member such as my son or daughter would enter, use the toilet, wash their hands and leave me behind. On rare occasions, I heard the water begin to flow next to me and I would be used to clean my family's bodies. What a sickening life. With every use, I grew gradually smaller and smaller until I was but a small fragment of what I used to be.


My non-existent heart began to metaphorically race as the dreaded sound of water spurting and flowing filled the bathroom. She slipped off her ragged old pajamas and undergarments revealing her nude body. Her long, clean-shaven leg dipped into the shower to check the temperature of the stream. Scalding hot, just how she liked it. My worst enemy had entered my domain: my daughter.

Steam began to rise off the floor of the shower and spiral into the air as her flaming hot shower continued to boil hotter and hotter. Without warning, I was grasped by her soft hand and rubbed along her arms as she hummed. My once full, bar-shaped body had been reduced to a thin slice of soap. With every stroke and gentle rub against her body, I began to chip away and melt into her skin. As I slid up and down her wet arms, I left a glossy blue trail behind me. If only she had knew it was the last bits and pieces of her father.

She rinsed the soap off her arms using the drippings from her soaking wet brown hair and relocated me to my next task, cleaning her armpits. Gently, she smeared me along the insides of her prickly, sour pits, reeking with sweat. She was an active lacrosse player at school, something I was very proud of her for in the past. Now, I wish she would have picked a less BO-inducing hobby. The awful stench coming from her armpits soaked into me, tainting my wonderful smell and filling me with hers.

Her soft, beautiful voice continued to sing as she washed my bubbles out of her pits. I was quickly brought back to her, however, as she began to scrub my thin being against her chest. Moving lower and lower, I was brought to her large, heavy breasts. She swirled me in circles around her nipple, perking it up as well as causing her to jitter from pleasure. I felt her erect nipple begin to carve into my surface, peeling away seconds of my already predestined life.

The faint sound of her phone buzzing could be heard from under the stream of water. Instead of setting me back down onto the shelf, I was nonchalantly gripped underneath her right breast as she peeked out the shower to tend to her message. Her massive breast pinned me underneath it's weight as it bounced with every step. Eventually, I couldn't handle it anymore and snapped into two pieces.

"Oh, crap..." My daughter groaned as she felt the fragile bar crunch underneath her boob. She pulled out the severed soap bar and held it folded in her hand. "This is useless, I'll just have Mom pick up a new one from the store." She said to herself before tossing the broken bar into the waste bin outside the steamy shower.

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