Doesn’t it feel so good to never have to think for yourself ever again. Me using my luscious curves to turn your mind to mush has gave your pathetic existence a meaning. You get to stroke and goon, edge and ache, on repeat until the end of your pathetic days and it’s all thanks to Goddess Dior. You owe me everything. All the money in your bank, all the time you have to spend it all on Gooning to me. The pleasure is endless and it’s so far from a simple moment of bliss. You’ll never be able to escape the endless cycle of being a brainless gooner for me