Faggot February is over… and I can already feel you unraveling. It's disorienting, isn't it? Thirty days of daily cock bombardment and now - silence. You're squirrely. Twitchy. That little beta brain doesn't know what to do without its programming running in the background. But here's the thing: you took a pledge. Pussy free for 2026. You signed that contract. And we're only getting started. So settle in. Grab your cock. Lock your eyes on mine - because this is strict, interactive reconditioning and I will know if your gaze drifts. Every slip earns immediate punishment. No warnings. No mercy. Just consequences. I'm going to rewire you. Methodically. Deliberately. The way only I can - getting inside that weak, overstimulated and rearranging what makes you throb. By the time I'm done, pussy triggers discomfort. Cock triggers that deep, aching, uncontrollable pulse you can't argue with. Pain with one, pleasure with the other. Simple conditioning for a simple brain. You thought Faggot February was the hard part? That was the honeymoon. This is where the real fuck begins - maintaining what we built when nobody's holding your hand anymore. Grab your cock. Eyes on me. Let’s begin
