Look at you, my pathetic little pumping puppet. You can’t stop, can you? Every squeeze of that pump is another reminder of how completely I own you. And those aroma —oh, they’ve completely fried your brain, haven’t they? Every deep sniff sends you spiraling deeper into your addiction, making you even more desperate to fill that tube. Your cock isn’t yours anymore; it’s a swollen, grotesque balloon, a testament to your weakness and dependence. You’re addicted to watching it grow, to feeling it stretch beyond recognition, and you’ll never stop. Every sniff, every pump, just turns you into more of a mindless, cock-pumping machine, chasing that rush like the hopeless loser you are. And for what? To watch your own cum spill out of that swollen mess of a cock while you drool and moan, brain turned to mush, all thanks to those aroma. Keep sniffing, keep pumping, keep stroking, because that’s all you’re good for now—filling that tube and watching your pathetic life drip out of you, completely under my control.