"Trumpeters could be here" she thought, "I've never been in this neighborhood before. There could be trumpeters anywhere." The cool wind felt good against her bare stomach. "I HATE TRUMPETERS" she thought. Stock music reverberated her entire mech, making it pulsate even as shota sperm swam inside her uterus and washed away her (merited) fear of angels after dark. "With a mech, you can go anywhere you want" she said to herself, out loud.