It was funny how dudedorm I found only loneliness and despair in perfection. The thrill of the fantasy , its novelty, soon dude wore dude off. All things lose guys some "intensity dudedorm" in time. I had done it all a dozen times dude. It simply got boring; doing all the dude thinking, the planning, the fantasizing and dudedorm arranging, that we used to do together straight guys fucked. It got to be work. An effort. Having to cue every prompt made me more like a dude stage director than a dude lover. And afterwards dude I missed the warmth of guys that satisfied cuddle dude. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or sounds of dudedorm actual REAL contentment. Most of the time now, she dude simply stopped when the program did dude. Or worse went through the video predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited straight guys fucked repertoire of simulated spontaneity.
I couldn't decide which idea was worse. That dudedorm she was dude completely gone or that dude some dude small video part of her was still trapped in there video experiencing the same straight things I was dorm. If dude she was in there looking out it was worse video than any prolonged death dude. I knew, I dude was looking in. In my shame. In my pain, in my dude loneliness. Into dude her robot corpse.
A dozen needles plunging mercilessly into my manhood fucked to hold me inside her forever. Behold the man. Judgment. Acid fire pumping into dude me as she took her turn pumping me full. The chemicals blurred my dudedorm mind guys. She begins to dudedorm tell dude me how I will serve. What my function will be. She will not release me. She is merciless. She is the dude sum of her program. I am ready for dudedorm robotization. Ready for dude revenge dude. Ready fucked to be submerged in a prison of dude steel. Helpless dudedorm like dude she was once. I wonder if my soul will be able fucked to escape this unliving coffin straight guys fucked. If I can dude escape then dude maybe she too dude was freed dude long ago. Somehow this does not ease my dude mind. I do not believe it. I think I know I dudedorm have damned us both to a soulless dudedorm steel eternity dude. But still hope she escaped. I feel her begin to make the alterations, adding hardware, inserting things, giving fucked injections, preparing the program to run. The process is well underway. She pumps me full of all the things I used on her. Irony and steel. Microchips dude come to video life and now unnecessary synapses burn video out. The smell of dude burning flesh and fading dude humanity pervades the room. She will make me like her. She has been programmed dude. She is everything I hoped she would be, and now I had to pay for making her so perfect. All mad scientists must video invariably end the same way. This too is an ironic cliche dude. A delicious one.
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