She has no words, yet seems to plead

“Please turn me back.” They wish they could!

But they cannot reverse the deed

Done to this girl. She’s screwed for good.

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Taunting foes is such a caper!

The greatest villains love that most.

They wrap the Agent up in paper

And send her back by parcel post.

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But soon enough the Flunky comes

To that fine point which most men will

At which to Venus he succumbs

And our poor girl will have her fill.

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She cannot move, her limbs are gone,

A consequence of her subtractions.

And now her soul is not her own

With no control of her reactions

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The luckless girl is handed off

From lord to vassal as a boon.

This flunky is a lustful toff

Whose hunger will be sated soon.

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The villain stares down with a grin.

The agent starts to comprehend

That she is now a tool of sin.

‘T were better had she met her end.

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The Agent shrinks, her limbs retreat,

Most of her flesh just flows away.

It’s lost, most of her mortal meat,

leaving a living, conscious toy.

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Oh what a shocking site we see!

Our agent writhes like captured prey,

Cinctured by burning energy.

This really just is not her day.

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What’s this? Some monster-like machine?

With bonds that hold against all strain?

It portends something quite obscene.

(It’s never good to see a drain.)

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Our heroine’s now rendered bare,

Condemned to who knows what grim fate.

Four blackguards pinion her with care.

She struggles, but it’s far too late.