Sin Street

The last tests of the sex pods. A burden of difficulties. Nothing helped. I had learned to help myself, or I was finished. But it worked.

A neuro-link interface transmitter for bio-pods, paired with a nexus of synthetic neurons designed for robotic sex. I loved this sex pod.

A flesh-mechanical sexual orifice with synthetic nerve-tubing, chrome cartilage, and a neuro-link interfaced with the cerebral cortex.

My perversion was to direct electro-waves, robotic orgasms, electromagnetic arcs, and giant bursts of light all over the Fuck Factory.

The sensory substitution sex systems were the ultimate, new layer of pleasure and pain on this fourth version of the sex pods. A delight.

The sensory substitution sex systems were the ultimate, new layer of pleasure and pain on this fourth version of the sex pods. A delight.

The fourth version of the pod was built in an empty cistern, discreetly transformed into a vast lab for my most advanced prototype.

That’s confirmed! We live in a surrealist simulation and Bliss Paradox is your favorite dystopian neo-noir cyberpunk erotica gossiper.

Here lies a dark side beneath the surface. Trash Man left limbs all around the old cistern, which was set up as the new Fuck Factory.

What did you learn? What might have gone wrong? One experiment leads to more questions, and conducting more autopsies becomes an obsession.

To use magic for a doctor is to use intuition. Question what you observed. Watch what others have discovered. Test and look for patterns.

To clean mankind’s dirt was a silly job, and fast I shifted from the cleaning business to the enjoyment of sex, death, and overdelights.