Cry.

You can't help yourself. It's like someone turned on the faucet to your tears and you can't clamp them closed. Your cock weeps just as openly, bawling it's eye out as Polly pounces on it over and over again. Your ass quakes and your limbs quiver as Polly's rubber cast cock rams repeatedly into your spurt spot while the snobby slut sucks up every last squirt with her starving slit. You want to rip free of your restraints and put the preppy primadonna in her place. You want to beg her for mercy, even though you know she has none. Unfortunately, all you can do is cry and climax convulsively.

"That's it! Cry for MOAN me! I'm the UNH NNGH victim here! Me! But you'll YIP YELPsee! I'll break you down OOOOH completely! Then I'll get you to convince them to set me MMNF free and by an AAAH army of **** studs and servile sissies!" Polly details her evil plan like a Bond villain, and unfortunately your piercings don't double as explosives or little lasers to help you free yourself or turn the tables. All you have is a bimboi body with an bottomless pit of hunger begging for more ****.

"Look at YIP you! You're getting OOH off on this! You don't NNG care that I'll be NNF free to spread my sickness as AAH long as you get to spurt." Polly mercilessly taunts you as she continues to milk your cock, meanwhile you are too full off fake cock to fight back. Or rather, the straps binding your limbs and the strap on sawing in and out of you give you the excuse you need to surrender without a fight. You hate giving her the satisfaction of beating you, but you suspect the satisfaction of being helplessly humped dwarfs her own sadistic splendor.

Once you accept your fate is to be fucked stupid and turned into a dummy and dildo for Polly to use and ****, it's like all of your senses get turned to 11 and the pleasure hits you so hard that you don't worry about what Polly gets out of it. As far as you're concerned, 'losing' is a long due relief. You can finally stop fighting. You can finally stop climbing tooth and nail up shit mountain only to get sent back to the bottom in a shit slide. Better to just lie at the bottom and let the filth swallow you whole. "Good NNGH slut, just go GUH blank for MOAN meEEEeeEeEeeEEEEEE!" Polly cries out and cums all over you, making you feel sticky and swallowed up as you sink face first down the slut spiral...

Polly pokes your head"Amy? Earth to Amy...nope. Looks like there's no one home. Good." She climbs off of you and turns to the bottom bimboi panting in the corner, "Abby, I'm bored. Keep riding this slut while I go get the principal. We'll tell her Amy begged us to do this as penance for her sins. Remember to cry a bunch and with luck they'll think we've been rehabilitated too. Haaa haaa haaaaa!" Polly leaves you to Abigail and shuts the door behind her. You don't even turn your head. You are content to let the melon assed bimboi milk your meat while you fuck Polly's replica rod....

....

"Yes. I see. We had hoped she would have stopped this quest for redemption before it became self destructive, but unfortunately all too often Bad Bimbois decide it's easier to be martyrs than good girls. Thank you for trying to put a stop to this, Polly. It's just a shame we weren't in time to save Abigail either..." Principal Jaqueline looks on with soft sympathy for the hard, heartless monster pantomiming concern before her.

"If only I had know what Abigail was planning, I wouldn't have spent all night at the chapel praying for forgiveness." Polly sounds convincing in the way that serial killers and practiced politicians often can. Even you might buy her remorse if you didn't know better. Unfortunately, your knowledge is locked away under mountains of sludge and slime and sticky spurts. Your brain blissed out and boiled from your non stop fuckfest and your complete collapse from an avalanche of climaxes and the crushing weight of your failure.

"Now...now...we don't need another martyr on our hands. In fact, I think this environment is bad for you. Too many Bad Bimbois and Vixen Victims. Let's get you out of quarantine and see if you don't put this right behind you..." The principal leads Polly out of the observation room and into the hall, and you only vaguely register her absence. You're too busy drooling on yourself as the attendants strip you out of your clothing and into the uniform you'll wear for the rest of your days...

Dragged down the halls limply wearing nothing but a Dunce cap, you dribble from both your lips and cock as your classmates stare in a mix of fear and fascination. Even a new kid like you knows what the Cone of Shame means. You are going to end up in the 'Remedial Class' with all the other blissed out brainless bimbois. Nothing but sucking and fucking, eating and sleeping, and everyday is the same with no end in sight. No hope...no chance of rehabilitation...no choices left, but...there's also no shame left, so no more regrets or doubts or fears or worries or anything but lust fed and fulfilled.

You feel your last tears drying on your face and lick them up. You aren't sad anymore...you aren't anything anymore...

And you love it...