“Show me,” I say to you casually, staring at your ridiculous plastic fucktoy implants. “You’re going to be a good baby doll for Daddy, aren’t you?”
“Um, okay, Daddy,” you mumble through lips far too full from two dozen syringes of juvederm to function normally, reaching blankly for the straps of your stretched-thin tank top. I notice you’re drooling stupidly out of the corner of your swollen duck lips and it only turns me on more.
You peel back the shirt to show off your massively inflated, firm and round huge fake tits. 7000ccs of saline each, hanging heavy from your body. There was a time when they resembled breasts; that time is long over. In their place: a cartoon version of your chest–plunging cleavage, gallons of saline pumped into bags sewn in your body. An exaggerated ode to the female form, turned into something vulgar and obscene.
“You’re such a cute little retard, princess. Daddy loves the plastic sex clown body he bought for you.”
“I wanna, um, like, go bigger, Daddy! Baby doll needs her boobies to be the biggest and the fakest of any baby doll!”
“Ok, princess. Well since you’re being such a little brat about it, I think we can pump another 1000ccs into your titties tomorrow. I’ll call the doctor so we can make you bigger and better for Daddy.”
“I’m gonna make Daddy’s cock so hard!” you giggle and jump, your fake, ridiculous chest bouncing heavily from your body, making you look even more perfect: a brain-dead plastic doll, a human turned into an object to be used, abused, played with, and ruined.
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