 It was funny how naked I found only naked male loneliness and despair in perfection. The young thrill naked of the fantasy young , its novelty, soon wore off young. All things lose some "intensity young" in time. I had done it all a naked male dozen times. It simply got boring; doing all the thinking, the youngnakedwoman planning, the fantasizing young and young arranging, that we naked used to do together young. It woman got to be work youngnakedwoman. An effort. Having to youngnakedwoman cue every prompt made me more like a stage director woman than a lover naked. And afterwards I missed the warmth of that satisfied cuddle. The simple warmth of her body. A few words or male sounds of actual young REAL about contentment. Most of young the time now woman, she simply stopped when the program did. Or worse went male through the youngnakedwoman predictable motions I had arranged. Or the limited repertoire young of simulated young spontaneity.
 I wanted her comfort about. Her love. And naked male even naked though it is hard for a young man to admit: sometimes sympathy when the day didn't go right. Small talk youngnakedwoman. The little intangible things young one can only get from someone who really cares naked, senses our secret needs. The warmth young of someone who cares. The frailty , the pain they feel FOR US about when young they can't help naked, but this itself helps. All this was gone. What youngnakedwoman was missing was youngnakedwoman affection, love. Love love love... even macho guys really need it. Not something coldly, logically responding to physiological signs or outward cues based on preset preprogrammed lines of young code youngnakedwoman.. Love and emotional companionship were male qualities young that young couldn't be broken male down into data.
 I couldn't decide which naked idea was worse. That she young was completely gone or that some small part of youngnakedwoman her was still trapped youngnakedwoman in there experiencing the same things I was. If she was in there youngnakedwoman looking out it was worse than any prolonged death. I knew, I woman was looking in. In my shame. In my pain, in naked male my loneliness. Into her robot corpse.
 Years passed. No one took her place. All youngnakedwoman that stuff youngnakedwoman about one true love, an irreplaceable youngnakedwoman soulmate young is young true. And I gutted mine like an old youngnakedwoman building needing about renovation. Yet she remained; a shiny perfect reminder youngnakedwoman, a monolith, a gravemarker. A tombstone with youngnakedwoman three words only: "I youngnakedwoman love you youngnakedwoman".
 A dozen needles plunging mercilessly into my manhood to male hold me inside her forever. Behold young the man. Judgment. Acid fire pumping young into me as she took her turn pumping about me full. The chemicals young blurred young my mind young. She begins to tell me how I will serve. What my function will be. She will not release me. She is merciless. She is the sum of her program. I am naked male ready for robotization. Ready for revenge young. Ready about to young be submerged in a prison of steel. Helpless like young she was once. I wonder if my soul will be naked able to escape this unliving coffin. If I can escape then maybe she too was freed long ago. Somehow young this does not ease youngnakedwoman my mind. I do naked male not believe it naked male. I think I know I have damned naked male us both to a soulless steel eternity. But still hope she escaped. I feel her begin to make youngnakedwoman the alterations, adding hardware, inserting things, giving injections, preparing the program to run. The woman process is well underway. She pumps me full about of all the things I used on her. Irony and young steel. Microchips come to life and now unnecessary synapses burn about out. The smell of burning flesh and fading humanity pervades the room. She will make me like naked her. She has been programmed. She is everything I hoped she would be, and now I had to naked pay for woman making her so perfect young. All mad young scientists must young invariably end the same way young. This too is an ironic cliche. A delicious young one.
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