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No matter how much you stroke and stroke, no matter how close to the edge you feel, you never achieve release. You never cum.
But.
When you burned all your boring underwear? Without even a touch, you spurted so hard into your pink panties~
But.
When you burned all your boring underwear? Without even a touch, you spurted so hard into your pink panties~
When you threw out your last pair of non-high heeled shoes? You shot rope after rope onto the ground as you smiled and admired those cute pumps you were wearing~
When you reached the hilt of your training dildo for the first time? Your tongue lolled out as you made a big mess~
When you reached the hilt of your training dildo for the first time? Your tongue lolled out as you made a big mess~
When you saw the thick makeup you’d just had permanently tattooed onto you? You made an absurd kissy face to the mirror as your whole body shuddered with pleasure~
When you used that extra-strength hair bleach that promised to seep into your head and dull your thinking? You sniffed your forever beautiful blonde locks of hair as you drooled slightly and exploded~
When you glued on those hyper-realistic double-E cup breasts? You pinched your new nipples, twice as sensitive as the old ones, as you squealed in ecstasy~
When your last strand of body hair was burned off? The technician chuckled as you stained the chair you were laying in~
When your last strand of body hair was burned off? The technician chuckled as you stained the chair you were laying in~
When you disposed of your last article of clothing that wasn’t squeaky, shiny latex? You were already polishing your transparent stockings as your smooth balls emptied~
When you first gulped down yummy nummy cummies at the same time your plump booty was ravaged and filled? Your own stream of white reached ten feet away while your gloved hands milked a third tasty cock into making a mess of your face~
When you finally completed the last file of that wonderful, amazing, dream-making rubber bimboficafion regimen? You giggled and giggled and giggled some more as you put a deep stain into the carpet~
But that was all in the past. Even as you kept fruitlessly stroking, you knew the truth. All of those moments had simply been rewards, essential parts of the mental transformation process.
Many times you had heard:
“Good bimbos don’t cum. They only help others cum.”
Many times you had heard:
“Good bimbos don’t cum. They only help others cum.”
You knew it was true.
You would never orgasm again.
And you couldn’t care less~!
You finally stopped rubbing and pushed your swollen clitty back into your magenta latex thong.
“Teehee~ I should, like, totally hook up with some cuties at the Starbucks~”
You would never orgasm again.
And you couldn’t care less~!
You finally stopped rubbing and pushed your swollen clitty back into your magenta latex thong.
“Teehee~ I should, like, totally hook up with some cuties at the Starbucks~”
You set aside the gossip and fashion magazines you’d been reading, turned off the TV that had been playing nonstop reality shows, and paused the speaker that was pumping endless brainless happy bumblegum pop music into your head.
You gave your short red-and-white-striped rubber skirt a quick shine with the bottle of fluid and cloth you always had nearby, stood up, and listened happily to your obscenely high heels click-clack as you walked out the door.
It would be another perfect day.
It would be another perfect day.
