Sin Street

I believe that with some training, time, and a lot of lube, there is no limit on how much you can stretch a hole. The bigger, the better.

I met Pierre in a park. He was my first patient for the sex pod. Unfortunately. To make his body disappear was a pure nightmare.

Test, night twenty-two. I added MDMA in the mix, inside the feeder. The body is ready for a deeper exploration. At least, I think so.

Molting, shedding, being recast, mutated into an organism made for sex. Then you have to be a larva, to be reborn as a sexual object.

The reseaarch for new sexpods patients was incredibly fruitful, and I discovered how perverse and kinky are all the people around me.

The first kill was to remove pure evil from streets. Then, I didn’t need the same big excuse to do it again, hunting sinners was good enough.

The natural response to damage is a mix of survival instinct and learned tolerance. When that tolerance grows, something shifts.

At first, they flinch. Then, they fight. Pain is not just a threshold to endure; it is a survival experience. You learn it on the field.

Bodies learn faster when trapped. When they can’t escape, exhausted, after a last shred of fight, they let it go. Then comes pleasure.

That’s an exquisite paradox. Pain is both order and destruction. The body learns from chaos, reshapes itself into something more resilient.

I’m not a serial killer. See me more as a war surgeon or a dedicated nurse. They were asking for it, and I was eager to explore the meta-sex.

Running a good business is about taking the time to do it good. A bullet in the head is not a good way to kill. But a dildo is a good weapon.