 I watched teamsquirt helplessly as Susan lost her soul to the machine. Standing there completely impotent to act I watched her eyes, once so teamsquirt sparkling with life and joy teamsquirt and yes...love turn pale and milky like those teamsquirt of a dead fish in a meat market. This teamsquirt was what I had wanted so badly. What she had teamsquirt been willing to do to never teamsquirt lose me. But in teamsquirt attempting teamsquirt to become my myspace perfect fantasy I instead beheld teamsquirt an animated silver teamsquirt corpse, which never teamsquirt could again give me the warmth of teamsquirt her love. She was teamsquirt software instead teamsquirt of soul. Steel instead of tenderness. She was the perfect domain lover, companion, would never teamsquirt displease or fail in anything asked of her. She was after all, programmed that way. But humanity cannot be programmed, a person can be programmed teamsquirt, but humanity teamsquirt, true caring and love can only be imitated within the limits of teamsquirt circuits and programming. I was suddenly very alone in the perfect relationship. And as time progressed, I came to understand domain that I had teamsquirt not only killed domain her; but like some ghoulish fiend, stole to the domain myspace graveyard and desecrated her corpse. Her cold metal corpse. And even worse yet I teamsquirt had teamsquirt played god and brought this teamsquirt beautiful abomination teamsquirt back, and like some teamsquirt fetishistic Frankenstein reanimated her corpse to fulfill my demented needs. As she had teamsquirt demanded I teamsquirt do. I remembered that she teamsquirt had wanted this, at least as much as I did. It was her fantasy teamsquirt too. To myspace be powerless teamsquirt, helpless teamsquirt in her own body, a mindless ever ready toy. The perfect robot plaything. But the realities of the "real" world and domain the fantasy of teamsquirt fiction are not myspace always the same or compatible. To free tinker with the human teamsquirt brain, reprogram or alter it isn teamsquirt't so specific a process at our current level of technology as to be able to teamsquirt pick teamsquirt selectively which things to teamsquirt alter. Realistically such technologies teamsquirt are still centuries away. So teamsquirt REAL world robotization or chemical mind control or any such procedures are domain myspace more like lobotomizing teamsquirt the "subject"/victim than "fine tuning". That's the sad teamsquirt reality. But she wanted to be mine teamsquirt forever. Wanted to be beautiful teamsquirt forever teamsquirt. Wanted to be half human/ half something from a sci-fi movie. The ultimate bondage teamsquirt slave was one who was bound teamsquirt inside teamsquirt herself. A slave in her own mind. The fantasy overrode the reality that SHE would teamsquirt be gone. We rationalized that some teamsquirt of her would remain. Trapped in teamsquirt the fantasy. That being the fantasy. The thrill. The excitement teamsquirt. We proceeded teamsquirt joyfully teamsquirt, blindly.
 I teamsquirt wanted her comfort. Her love teamsquirt. And even though it is hard for a man to teamsquirt admit: sometimes sympathy when teamsquirt the day teamsquirt didn't go right. Small talk. The little teamsquirt intangible things teamsquirt one can only get from someone who teamsquirt really cares, senses our secret needs. The warmth of someone who cares. The frailty teamsquirt , the pain teamsquirt they feel FOR US when they can't domain help, but this itself helps. All this was gone. What was missing teamsquirt was affection, love. Love teamsquirt love love... even macho guys really need it teamsquirt. Not something coldly, logically myspace responding to physiological signs or outward cues based on teamsquirt preset teamsquirt preprogrammed lines of domain myspace code.. Love and emotional companionship were qualities that domain myspace couldn teamsquirt't be domain myspace broken down into teamsquirt data.
 A dozen teamsquirt needles plunging mercilessly into my manhood to hold me inside her forever domain myspace. Behold the man. Judgment. Acid fire pumping into me as teamsquirt she took her turn pumping teamsquirt me full. The chemicals blurred my mind. She begins to teamsquirt tell me how I will serve teamsquirt. What my function domain myspace will be. She will not teamsquirt release me. She is merciless. She is the sum domain of her program teamsquirt. I am ready for myspace robotization. Ready for revenge. Ready to be submerged in a prison of steel domain myspace. Helpless like she was once. I wonder if my teamsquirt soul domain will be able teamsquirt to escape this unliving coffin domain myspace. If teamsquirt I can escape then maybe she too was freed long ago. Somehow this does not ease my mind. I do domain myspace not believe it. I think I know I have damned us both to a soulless steel teamsquirt eternity. But still hope she escaped. I feel her begin to make the alterations, adding free hardware, inserting things teamsquirt, giving injections, preparing the program to run. The process is well underway. She pumps me full of teamsquirt all teamsquirt the things I used on her teamsquirt. Irony teamsquirt and steel. Microchips come to life and now unnecessary teamsquirt synapses burn teamsquirt out. The smell of burning teamsquirt flesh and fading humanity pervades the room. She will make me like her. She has been programmed. She is everything I teamsquirt hoped she would be, and now I had to pay for myspace making her so perfect. All mad free scientists must domain invariably end the same way. This too teamsquirt is an ironic cliche. A delicious one.
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