The Goldy Rush
There you are, my little goon puppet, locked in your room, eyes glued to the screen, desperately pumping away at your pathetic excuse for manhood. You’re a disgrace, a filthy addict consumed by your need for my cruel guidance. Every stroke, every pump, is a reminder of how low you’ve sunk. You can’t resist me, can’t escape the web of seduction I’ve woven around your weak, malleable mind. You’re nothing but a toy, a plaything for my amusement, forever trapped in the cycle of and addiction I’ve crafted just for you.