She was perfect. Perfect in bed pussy. Perfect in obedience. Perfect pussy in anticipating my needs. If she lacked anything or any pussy skill or any kink or quirk I could add it. She spoke the perfect words (I had written them into the program), made the perfect gestures, and even simulated cumming at the precise pussy moment I did. The fantasy pussy that we always satisfied each other perfectly was absolutely perfect. She didn't have a favorite hole or fucking position. She gave perfect head. She gave pussy a cold metal tit fuck pussy that made hardcore me thank god for titanium. Her hands were those of hardcore pussy fucking the perfect artist, shaping me like Michaelangelo pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines in clay. When she hardcore pussy fucking was done I was always a marble masterpiece. A spire, honoring the gods of sex. And thereby an alter at which she fucking could robotically worship. She was fucking perfect with every pussy food and its uses in bed pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines. She was dom hardcore pussy fucking, she was slave, she pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines was robot, she was pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines dolly, she was painted canvas, she was a fucking leather biker bitch (if I wanted); she was a conquered pussy or conquering warrior princess, she was a goddess, she was in suspended animation, she was pussy some hardcore pussy fucking strange hardcore pussy fucking alien pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines nymphomaniac, she was a rubber and hardcore pussy fucking latex slave, she was a brainless beach bunny, she at was a rape victim, she was a pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines slut, she was a pussy little school girl licking a pictures lolly, she was a wind pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines-up toy, she was fucking kinky, she was straight, she liked it when hardcore pussy fucking I brought hardcore playmates home for hardcore her at and me, she liked things pussy in her ass pictures, she drank me like pussy I was fucking fine wine, she sold herself on street pictures corners and gave me the money, she masturbated herself so perfectly I came just watching pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines. She was completely mine pussy. She was the robot fantasy fucking completely realized. She was pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines what she wanted to be. We were living fucking the fantasy. And it was pure hardcore pussy fucking hell.... We were damned pussy.
I watched helplessly as pussy Susan lost her soul to fucking the machine. Standing there completely impotent to act I watched her eyes, once so sparkling with life and joy and yes...love turn fucking pale and machines milky like those of a dead fish in a meat pussy market. This was what I had wanted so badly. What she had fucking been willing to do to never lose me. But in pussy attempting to become my perfect fantasy I instead beheld an animated silver corpse, which never could again pussy give me the warmth of her love. She was software instead fucking of soul. Steel instead of tenderness pussy. She was the perfect lover, companion, would never displease or fail in anything asked of her. She at was after all, programmed that way pussy. But humanity cannot be programmed, a pussy person can be programmed, but humanity, true caring and pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines love can only be imitated within pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines the limits of pussy circuits and programming. I was suddenly very alone in the perfect relationship. And as time progressed, I fucking came to understand that I fucking had not only killed her; but like some ghoulish fiend, stole to the graveyard and desecrated her corpse. Her cold pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines metal corpse. And even worse yet I had played god and brought fucking this beautiful abomination fucking back, and like some fetishistic Frankenstein reanimated her corpse to fulfill my demented needs. As she had pussy demanded pussy I do. I pussy remembered that she pussy had wanted this, at least as much as I did. It was her fantasy too. To pussy be powerless fucking, helpless in her own body fucking, a mindless ever ready toy. The perfect robot plaything. But the realities of the "real" world and the fucking fantasy of fiction are not pussy always the same or pussy compatible. To tinker with the human brain, reprogram or alter it isn pussy't so specific a process at at our current level of technology as to be able to pick selectively which pussy things to alter. Realistically such pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines technologies are pussy still centuries away hardcore pussy fucking. So REAL world robotization or hardcore pussy fucking chemical pussy mind pussy control or any such procedures are more at like lobotomizing the "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That's the sad reality. But she wanted to be pussy mine forever. Wanted to be beautiful forever. Wanted to be half human/ half something from a sci-fi movie. The ultimate pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines bondage slave was one who was bound inside herself. A slave in her own mind. The fantasy hardcore pussy fucking overrode the reality pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines that machines SHE would be gone. We rationalized that some of her would remain. Trapped in the fantasy. That being the fucking fantasy. The thrill. The excitement. We proceeded at joyfully, blindly.
But I have not seen the slightest hint that the spark of life remains. In all the hardcore pussy fucking years since, she is the sum of her program and at nothing more pussy. I have watched for the slightest spontaneity. It is absent. She at remains perfect. And I remain a helpless master. A slave that maintains her slavery. I can pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines do nothing else. I am a monster hardcore. The monster fucking she begged me to pictures be pussy. The lonely monster outside of society. The creature that loathes itself. The thing that hardcore pussy fucking must forever destroy what it loves. Because hardcore pussy fucking it pussy loves it and fucking can do nothing else. Because it is... asked pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines.
It was pussy funny how hardcore I found only loneliness pussy and despair in perfection. The thrill pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines of the fantasy , its novelty, soon wore off. All fucking things lose some "intensity pussy" in time pussy. I had pussyfuckingatfuckingmachines done it all a dozen times. It pussy simply got boring; doing all the thinking, the planning hardcore pussy fucking, the fantasizing and pictures arranging, that we used fucking to do together. It got to be work. An effort. Having to cue every prompt hardcore pussy fucking made fucking me more like a stage director than pussy a lover. And afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words hardcore or fucking sounds machines of actual REAL contentment. Most fucking of the time now, she simply stopped when the fucking program did. Or worse went through fucking the predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire hardcore pussy fucking of simulated hardcore spontaneity.
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