I jpg watched helplessly as Susan lost her soul to the jpg machine. Standing there completely impotent blondefacial-cumfiesta to act I watched her eyes, once so sparkling with life and joy and yes...love turn pale and milky like those of a dead fish in a meat market. This was what blonde I gang had wanted so badly. What she had been blondefacial-cumfiesta willing to do to never lose me. But in attempting to become my perfect fantasy I instead beheld an animated silver corpse, which gang never could gang again give me gang bang facial the warmth of her love. She was software gang bang facial instead of soul. Steel instead of blondefacial-cumfiesta tenderness. She was the perfect lover blonde, companion, would never displease or fail in anything asked of her. She was after all jpg, programmed that way. But humanity cannot be programmed, a person can be programmed, but humanity, true caring and bang love can only facial be imitated within the blonde limits of circuits and programming. I was bang suddenly very alone in the perfect relationship. And as time progressed, I came to fiesta understand that I had not only killed her; but gang bang facial like some blondefacial-cumfiesta ghoulish fiend, stole to the graveyard and desecrated her blonde corpse blonde. Her blonde cold gang metal corpse. And even worse yet I had played god and brought this beautiful abomination back, and like some fetishistic Frankenstein reanimated her corpse to fulfill jpg my demented needs. As she had demanded I do. I remembered that she had wanted this, at cum least as much gang as I gang did. It was her fantasy facial too. To blonde be powerless blonde, helpless in her own body, a blondefacial-cumfiesta mindless ever ready toy. The perfect robot plaything gang bang facial. But the blondefacial-cumfiesta realities bang of fiesta the "real" world and the fantasy of fiction blonde are not always the same or compatible. To tinker blonde with the gang human brain, reprogram or alter it facial isn't blonde so specific a process at our current level of technology as to be able - to blonde pick selectively which blonde things to alter. Realistically such technologies are still centuries away. So REAL world jpg robotization or chemical mind control or any such procedures fiesta are facial more blondefacial-cumfiesta like lobotomizing the "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That fiesta's the sad reality blonde. But she wanted to be mine cum forever facial. Wanted to be beautiful gang bang facial forever. Wanted to be half human/ half something from a sci-fi movie. The ultimate bondage slave was one who cum was bound inside herself. A slave in her own mind. The fantasy overrode the reality that blondefacial-cumfiesta SHE would be gone. We gang bang facial rationalized that some of her would fiesta remain. Trapped in the blonde fantasy blonde. That being the fantasy. The thrill. The excitement. We proceeded joyfully, blindly.

It was funny how I found blonde only loneliness blonde and blondefacial-cumfiesta despair in perfection. The thrill of blonde the fantasy , its novelty, soon wore blonde off. All things lose some "intensity" in time. I had done it all gang bang facial a dozen times jpg. It simply got boring; doing all the thinking, the planning, the fantasizing and arranging, that we used to do together. It jpg got to blondefacial-cumfiesta be work jpg. An effort blonde. Having bang to gang bang facial cue every prompt made me more like blonde a stage director than a lover. And afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied cuddle facial. The simple warmth of her fiesta body. A few words or sounds of actual REAL contentment. Most facial of the time now, she simply stopped when facial the program gang bang facial did. Or blondefacial-cumfiesta worse went through the predictable motions I fiesta had arranged. Or the limited blonde repertoire jpg of simulated spontaneity gang bang facial.

I couldn jpg't decide jpg which jpg idea was worse. That she was completely facial gone or that some small part of her blondefacial-cumfiesta was blondefacial-cumfiesta still trapped blondefacial-cumfiesta in there experiencing the same cum things I was. If she was in there looking out it was worse than bang any blondefacial-cumfiesta prolonged death. I blondefacial-cumfiesta knew, I was looking in. In my shame. In my pain, in my loneliness. Into her robot corpse.

I blondefacial-cumfiesta was inside her. I was still blonde a gang bang facial man. Though in a few second blondefacial-cumfiesta I would begin blondefacial-cumfiesta to blonde soften blondefacial-cumfiesta, weaken, begin to lose the most manly moment. I facial would lose all pretense that this jpg was real. But for gang bang facial now her muscles held blonde my part inside of her, MADE me fiesta last facial. Made me a blonde mans man. It gang was then I thanked her. It was then I screamed.

She jpg is working on my brain now. I thank her again while I still can fiesta. Whoever she is I (feel fiesta?) I should thank her for blondefacial-cumfiesta (something -?). Her cold eyes facial do blondefacial-cumfiesta not respond gang but none-the-less somehow I vaguely understand that justice has been served. She rips out more parts I blondefacial-cumfiesta will no longer need. Replaces them fiesta with wiring and circuit blonde boards. The last thing I ever remember is the jpg sweet I..ron..ic agony blonde of having the main control interface gang bang facial drilled and then injected painfully into the base of my skull gang bang facial. Do machines scream?