Spotlights illuminate only her in synthetic man dildo. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want synthetic man dildo,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “synthetic man dildo… look at synthetic man dildo… worship synthetic man dildo.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “synthetic man dildo!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.