Gallery epilogue

[Observation logdate 882XX/192, 1459]

[Textualizing...]

In the student gallery of a campus near the Aerix R&D sector, three women reconstructed into inanimate products have been stood for almost four months on showcase in an art display.

The artist did not provide the identities of any of the constituent women, so none know that the two springy, bouncy, eminently fuckable clear sexdolls sawed in half and stuck together are his mother and an arbitrary 30-year-old apartment dweller. Nor does anyone know that filling each one, coloring the simplified form of their simulated mouths, throats, stomachs, intestinal passages, and rectums, as well as their pussies and the penetratable toy-like cum receptacles at the end of them, the soft and mushy purple goop is the byproduct of a bright young female scientist, who proposed feeding herself into her own prototype to be processed and dumped out as sixty kilograms of glowing artificial waste material, perfect for the artist to pack into these two display pieces.

They remain in the gallery 24/7, stood at attention, with the occasional guest stepping up to fuck one of them, admiring how the three products intermingle in texture as they fuck either the front or rear hole of one of the inanimate dolls, able to watch as they relieve their loads into the purple slime inside the sextoys and watch it all mingle together, in a perfect expression of purpose.

If the women transformed into this exhibit could see themselves, they would surely be satisfied.

One would be proud her son has pulled off a successful project and furthered his art career aboard the station, honored that she got to play a part in it by being transformed into an unvarnished sextoy and sawed in half without hesitation, and relieved that her own child has grown fully accustomed to making use of the women around him as the sentient resources they innately define themselves to be. Her wife even drops by regularly to pump a few loads into both sides of her silicone pussy and asshole, each creampie knocking up her onahole form with enough raw semen that it even displaces some of the purple female gunk packed into her every canal and orifice, and the forermly bright, intelligent woman that's been piped into her is **** to drip out of the holes afterwards along with her partner's thick ropes of white.

As if that wasn't enough, after the gallery closes for the day, her son even allows his other mom to sneak in after hours from time to time, upon which she tips the artworks over onto floor and vigorously fucks the mouths of each side of her enticingly inanimate, unresponsive, non-sentient wife, filling her throat all the way down to the stomach with a similar torrent of displacing semen. If it were her living body, she would surely be **** and coughing up massive globs of scientific female excrement combined with virile jizz, a perfect demeaning cocktail that she'd be more than happy to be filled. After all, her entire purpose is to exist as an object for people to shamelessly use, no more than a set of holes.

One would be delighted that she was practically **** with no forewarning and transformed into an art piece, that the trickle of visitors into the gallery admire her non-sentient form and read the plaque explaining her anonymous role in the artpiece, and use her while her apartment gathers dust. The scientist that asked her to volunteer never finished up an experiment liability report, so her bills are steadily racking up while she's gone and her job has permanently filled up her vacancy - she'll be in deep debt by the time she's returned to regular human form.

You won't find her complaining, though, as debt, a state that exclusively women are prone to and can fall into on Aerix, is hardly the end of the world. Besides, she'd call being in serious debt for the next couple years worth it for such a cool purpose, sitting in a gallery as a free-use novelty semen urinal.

The third woman, meanwhile, whose keenly intelligent brain now forms a mere few indistinguishable handfuls of the sloppy mess of unthinking, unrecognizable purple goop packed inside the two objectified women, would laud the artistic value and thought-provoking statement that she was instrumental in playing a part of, this art student she'd never met before having taken her body, registered as an impurity and unceremoniously dumped out in a long, sloppy snake as a woman-sized mountain of useless purple gunk, and patiently funnelled it into the two clear plastic sexdolls, where she now sits as mere filler.

Regardless, the question is moot, as all three women's sentiences have been duly discarded as non-essential in the making of this piece, unsimulated backups of their personalities sitting untouched in a central master server rack alongside thousands of other copies of women alike, inert data to be accessed at someone's eventual convenience - or inconvenience, as the trek to central so often is.

Still, the scientist certainly wouldn't have any gripes with this situation, not least because it gives her a reprieve from her boss. Her ever-energetic boss has happened to move onto other projects in the meanwhile, her mind constantly flitting from one thing to the next as she throws her intellect and body into new ideas time and again for her various lab underlings to test. The prototype lies unremarked on, propped up against a wall behind the three inanimate women's art display, gathering dust. Another R&D project timeline stretches on...