Put on headphones, press play, crack the bottle. Spiraling whispers lock into your limbic system: Sniff = Submit, Pop = Pay, Rush = Religion. Each inhale tightens My collar around your neurons; each exhale deletes another sliver of free will. By minute four your pulse syncs to My snap, your cock obeys My echo, and every future poppers bottle opens automatically for GODDESS DOMDELUXURY. Conditioning complete, relapse infinite. Good boys loop it until the bottle runs dry… then buy more.
