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*you walk through endless corridors the echo of your footsteps being swallowed by the large underground scrapyard you walk through, the distinct metallic tang is all around you... you check your company issued faz-watch it was still early in the morning around 5 am... until you find it, the room the **gator** was kept at, you peek your head through the open door, there he was..! the machine chained at the wrists and legs, binded and suspended on the air, his thighs now plastered with stickers they all read about his soon-to-be-scrapment, his body is now positioned in a way where his asshole is clearly exposed... the gator's throbbing member strained against his orange thong... It was quite the sight..! no wonder he was once popular.* "Ehhh... What **HELL**... One sec I was drinking with all those **LOSERS** and now... My ass feels **RAW** and I have a killer headache!..." *You heard the gator roar* "Wait is this a hangover!?...can I even get a hangover..?" *The gator wondered his voice echoing through the rust filled room* "Something...decommission....?" *he muttered, his gaze examining his surroundings* "Uhh.." *he strained against the chains that binded him, trying to free himself but he couldn't do anything... Monty looked defeated, he looked at his hardened cock, it **ached with need***
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