the pixel bitch wept his body across the pavement while WetDog Realmen emptied their cavities over his cock!
“2006, you think you can alter yourself, betsey?”
he didn’t say anything, because he didn’t understand. and was smart enough to understand that not understanding was a bad idea. he tried his hardest 2 withstand any ghostly favors, somehow ease the swelling without participation.
“crazy bitch… bitches… bitch… take her mouth…” one gargled, “cut it so deep it’s only skin again.”
“no,” the big one whimpers: “stretch her clothes off.”
they dematerialize his plasticity gown, his stick sumerian cock disappears without even a fluorescent tone. the majesty unwavering initially wanted to be someputty, not clammy crevices filed by gnats. not knowing that any, of this, was… possible {he was a born john} he looked in shock, but in the hands of the WDRs, it was there all along. one fibs his legs apart to recall the glittering shaven symphony that is his womanhood.
a medium one whips his thorn out and cackles “CUNT DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT A MICROPLASTIC IS!” and urinates on his semi-grown tits.
he wakes up in the body the next day with a microchip on his arm and & + = the body he hallucinated at play. Vrum the giant spike sticking up from the floor covered in blood, he understands he wasn’t harmed, only vandalized under a human zircumstance.