There were genes that did nothing, and others that forgot what to do. The machine changed that, and at the same time turned him into something else. H... became a way of correcting the genetic path, not in his image, but a correction. He left there with a renewed vigor and health, with a new purpose so late in his life. He had become a prepper. He pulled her up from the floor to sit between his legs on the couch. Her pajamas that her mother had told her to put on as a layer between her and his. Soon she felt the cum building in his balls, and just before he could release, she quickly scooped up two spoonfuls of ice-cream and dumped them on his prick, using her hands to rub the coldness around his shaft. He screamed and his cock tried to shrink away from the cold. But the blood pounding through it kept it nice and hard. Not fearing the punishment she knew she was bound to receive anyway, she massaged his dick with the ice cream: to be stronger, colder, knowing that the outcome would be. More

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