#328163 - Shelly has been the victim of a horrible accident, and now she is nought but a twitchy little puppet made of meat who stinks of soil and unwashed vag. Embalming fluid slops and burbles down the shaft of the pipe as its' long, horrid orgasm slowly calms. She hangs there, still and stiff as a pole, knowing that the slightest twitch could mean the difference between liberty and lobotomy.
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