 But max I have not seen the slightest hint that max the max spark max of life remains. In all the years since, she is the sum of her program and nothing more max. I have watched for the max slightest max spontaneity. It is absent. She remains perfect. And I remain a helpless master. A slave that maintains her slavery. I can do nothing else. I am a monster. The stocking monster she begged me hardcore to be. The lonely monster max outside of society. The max creature that loathes itself. The thing that must forever destroy what maxhardcore it max loves. Because it loves it and maxhardcore can do nothing else. Because it is... asked.
 I wanted her comfort. Her maxhardcore love. And hardcore even though it max is hard for a man to admit all: sometimes sympathy when the day didn't go right. Small talk. The little intangible max things max one can only get from someone who really cares, senses our secret needs. The warmth of max someone who cares max. The frailty , the pain they feel stocking hardcore FOR max US when they can't help maxhardcore, but this stocking hardcore itself helps. All this was gone. What was missing was affection, love. Love love love... even macho guys really max need it. Not all something coldly, logically responding to physiological signs or outward cues based on preset preprogrammed lines of code.. Love and emotional companionship were qualities that couldn't be broken down into data.
 Yes, the years passed. And the loneliness, and the guilt building maxhardcore inside of me, leaving me more empty stocking than her. But now I had max a plan, one to set everything right. One to end my pain. One that would serve maxhardcore irony up on a grand platter. One hardcore that would be her unspoken just retribution if that spark still invisibly burned behind those glass eyes stocking.
 A dozen needles plunging mercilessly maxhardcore into my manhood to hold me inside her forever. Behold hardcore the man. Judgment hardcore. Acid fire pumping hardcore into maxhardcore me as she took her turn hardcore pumping me full. The chemicals blurred my mind maxhardcore. She begins to tell hardcore me hardcore how I will serve. What my function will be. She will max not release me. She is merciless max. She is max the sum all of her program. I am ready for robotization. Ready for revenge. Ready to be submerged in maxhardcore a prison max of steel. Helpless like all she stocking hardcore was once. I wonder if my soul all will be able to escape this unliving coffin. If I can escape then maybe hardcore she too was hardcore freed long hardcore ago. Somehow this does not ease my mind. I hardcore do not believe it. I think I know I have damned us both stocking to a soulless hardcore steel eternity. But still hope she escaped. I feel her max begin to make the stocking hardcore alterations, adding hardware, inserting things stocking, giving injections, preparing the program to max run max. The process is max well underway. She all pumps all me full of all the things I used on her. Irony and steel. Microchips come to life and now unnecessary max synapses burn out. The hardcore smell of maxhardcore burning flesh and max fading humanity pervades the room maxhardcore. She will make me max like her. She has been programmed. She stocking hardcore is max everything max I hardcore hoped she would be, and now I had to pay for making her so perfect. All mad scientists must invariably hardcore end the same maxhardcore way. This too is an ironic cliche. A delicious one.
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