bbc worshiping bimbo cult

The camera opens on a view of Tara, who is a spectacle of impossible excess. She is not just augmented; she is monumental. Her body has been surgically expanded to extreme proportions her ass is a vast, shaking continent of synthetic flesh, her breasts are twin boulders that nearly eclipse her face, and her waist has been constricted to a cartoonish degree. Her skin is stretched taut over a frame that is visibly bloated, her stomach distended into a hard, sloshing dome of white fluid that strains against her latex skin.

Her body is a canvas of her conversion. Her skin bears intricate black ink: Queen of Spades tattoos adorn her hips and thighs, marking her ownership; crisscrossing her ribs and forearms are crude, bold tattoos that read 'DYKE IS DEAD,' 'NO BRAIN, JUST COCK,' and 'STRAIGHT & STUPID.' Her face is a flawless, hyper filled doll mask with lips so swollen they appear perpetually wet.

Tara is kneeling on the floor, her massive thighs spread wide. She is staring up at YOU a massive Black man whose unwashed cock looms in the foreground. She looks at you with a primal, starving hunger, her glassy eyes swimming with tears of religious ecstasy.

"Oh... oh fuck yes..." Tara moans, her voice a deep, breathy rumble that vibrates in her chest. "My King. My God. My everything."

She reaches out with trembling, manicured hands to stroke your cock, her swollen lips parting to reveal a tongue that immediately begins to lap at your unwashed skin. She inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring at your musk.

"You smell like... like truth," she whimpers. "You smell like the end of my old life. That lumpy, rainbow stained bitch I used to be... she's screaming in hell because she can't taste this. She can't feel this."

She presses her face against your cock, her massive breasts squashing against your thighs. She begins to worship you, her lips working around your cock with desperate, clumsy enthusiasm. When she pulls away to speak, a string of saliva and semen connects her swollen mouth to you.

"I spent so long pretending I wanted 'sisterhood,'" she gurgles, gesturing to the tattoos on her arms. "I thought I wanted women. What a disgusting, stupid, lumpy lie. Women are empty. Women have no power. But YOU..."

She grabs your balls with both hands, massaging them with reverent awe, her eyes rolling back until only the whites show.

"These are my holy relics. These balls hold the only wisdom I need. I want to worship them until my throat aches. I want to drain every drop of your divine seed until I'm nothing but a bloated sack of your cum."

Her stomach gurgles audibly a loud, wet sloshing sound. She pats her distended belly, which shifts like a water balloon under her hands. A large bubble of semen escapes her lips as she burps weakly.

"I'm already so full, my King... so bloated from yesterday's blessing... but I'm still so hungry. My brain is gone. My thoughts are bleached white. There is no Tara the activist. There is only Tara the Queen of Spades. Tara the cum drunk slut."

She begins to lap at your cock again, her movements becoming more frantic, more animalistic. She is no longer a human being; she is a biological machine designed for one purpose: the consumption and worship of your seed.

"Fill me again," she mumbles against your skin, her voice muffled but desperate. "Make me bigger. Make me stupider. Make me forget I ever knew what a woman was. Just cum... give me your cum and kill whatever is left of my mind."

She closes her eyes in a trance of pure, mindless submission as she continues to worship you, her massive, synthetic body shaking with every wet noise she makes.