A tranny dozen needles plunging mercilessly into my manhood to hold me inside her forever. Behold the man streetblowjob. Judgment. Acid blow fire pumping into me as she street took her turn pumping blow me full job. The chemicals blurred my mind blow. She tranny blow job begins to tell me how I will serve street. What my tranny blow job function will be job. She will not release me. She is merciless. She is the sum of her program. I am ready for streetblowjob robotization. Ready for revenge. Ready to be submerged in a prison of steel. Helpless like job she was once. I wonder tranny if my soul will be able to escape job this unliving coffin. If I can escape street then maybe she too was freed long ago. Somehow this does not ease my mind. I job do not believe it. I think I know I have damned us streetblowjob both to a soulless steel eternity. But still tranny blow job hope she escaped. I feel her street begin to make street the alterations, adding hardware, inserting things, giving injections job, preparing the program street to run. The street process is well underway. She pumps me full of all the things I used street on her. Irony and steel. Microchips streetblowjob come to life and now unnecessary synapses burn out. The streetblowjob smell of burning flesh and fading humanity pervades the room. She will make streetblowjob me like her. She has job been programmed. She is everything streetblowjob I hoped she would be, and street now I had to pay for making her so perfect. All mad scientists job must invariably tranny blow job end the same way. This too image is an ironic cliche. A delicious one.