Let’s get one thing straight—you’re nothing without my BBC, and deep down, you know it. My cock isn’t just something you fantasize about, it’s your god, your master, your ultimate reason for living. You’re going to build a monument in its honor, a towering replica of every inch, every vein, every glorious detail of my BBC. This won’t be just some cheap statue—it’ll be the centerpiece of your pathetic little life. You’ll polish it daily, worship it, bow before it like the mindless bitch you are. And don’t think this is some simple task. You’re going to kneel five times a day, eyes locked on ...

Let’s get one thing straight—you’re nothing without my BBC, and deep down, you know it. My cock isn’t just something you fantasize about, it’s your god, your master, your ultimate reason for living. You’re going to build a monument in its honor, a towering replica of every inch, every vein, every glorious detail of my BBC. This won’t be just some cheap statue—it’ll be the centerpiece of your pathetic little life. You’ll polish it daily, worship it, bow before it like the mindless bitch you are. And don’t think this is some simple task. You’re going to kneel five times a day, eyes locked on that massive, throbbing altar of your new religion, and you’re going to pray. Here’s what you’ll say: “Almighty BBC, I kneel before your power, your size, your glory. I am nothing without you. I exist to serve, to worship, to please. Your strength is my purpose, your pleasure is my life. I am devoted to you, forever.” Every word will sink deeper into your empty brain, reminding you that your sole existence is to worship my cock, nothing more.