Much like Robocop 1-3, this goes from mildly erotic to fucking horrible pretty darn fast. Tipping point involves a Cambodian that apparently tried to high-five a weed wacker.
This one starts out as your typical day in Okinawa, but it looks like there's a tinge of legitimate concern before the credits roll. Guess it's just another one of those unfortunate side effects from engaging with a part of the world that considers mixed martial arts a form of roleplay.
Some real memorable facial expressions in this one. Almost as if she can't believe someone would pay good money to hookup with a person possessing less sexual prowess than a New York City hotdog, and still achieve climax. 4/10; would penetrate again.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
Nothing says reinventing a franchise quite like admitting to the world that you have a fetish even the truckers of America aren't paying for in Walmart parking lots. Now give this so many views, The Rock won't be able to turn down being in the sequel.
Here it is. The Citizen Kane of ewww your semen tastes like Gene Wilder's deceased asshole. Actually, I'm not entirely sure whether or not Gene is deceased, but I trust that the implied mental image is effective all the same.
There's a thin line between trailer park erotica, and soul-deep emotional trauma. Where that line exists I don't know... but judging by the amount of dollar store tattoos I'm seeing on that body, I'd say this human Hindenburg sure as fuck does.
Just when you think Brittany Bardot's HorrorPorn content was the most remorseful way to leave wet spots in your denim dungarees, she goes and shoots something like this. Sure is an interesting way of servicing the community tho. While normies reserve their public reamings for the Best Buy customer service line; she started her charity work at home.
I can't imagine what life decisions lead to your obituary being littered with the words "twerking" and "public nuisance" and "30,000 volts". But I'm betting it involves the neighbor's parakeet, and all 16 delicious flavors of Rice-a-Roni. (fuck you Rice Pilaf)
Start Door Dashing your scottish woodcocks, and fire up the Tay Tay playlist because you're about to witness the pinnacle of crossbreeding the Starship Troopers prequel we never got with a porn studio that actually has funding. Ridley Scott; Take notes.
