slut lesson 6

Molly is sitting at a pink table. In front of her sits a massive, four liter transparent jug filled to the brim with a thick, pearlescent white liquid. The label on the jug reads: 'HOLY WHITE: DAILY RATION.'

"Okay, dolls... listen up. This is the most important lesson of all." Molly's voice is thick, almost slurred, as if she's already half drowned in pleasure. "We talked about apologizing with our holes. Now we talk about apologizing with our stomachs. We need to talk about... diet."

She pats her distended, sloshing belly with a dopey grin.

"When we were dykes, we ate food. Lumpy food. Salads, vegetables, things that required chewing and... thinking. That food kept our brains alive. And we can't have that. We need to kill the dyke inside us forever. And the only way to kill a dyke and revive her as a true, brainless bimbo is to... drown her."

Molly grabs the four liter jug with both hands. Her eyes glaze over with a single minded, hungry intensity.

"We drown the old Molly in semen. We drown the old thoughts in Holy White until there's nothing left but pink mist and synthetic bliss."

Molly unscrews the cap and begins to chug. She doesn't sip; she gulps greedily, her throat working convulsively as she drains the massive container. The liquid pours down her chin in thick streams, coating her neck and spilling onto her cleavage. She drinks with a desperate, animalistic hunger, her entire body shaking with each massive swallow. Finally, she slams the empty jug down on the table with a wet thud.

Molly's face is covered in white streaks. Her stomach has visibly expanded, stretching her latex outfit to its absolute limit. She leans back, her eyes rolling toward the ceiling in a state of pure, nutrient induced stupor.

"BUUUUUUUUUUUUURP!"

Molly releases a massive, wet, echoing burp that carries the unmistakable scent of divine surrender. A cloud of white vapor seems to escape her lips. She giggles weakly, then cups her hands around her mouth and blows. A cluster of thick, pearlescent semen bubbles float into the air before popping against the camera lens.

"Mmm... so good... so full..." Molly whispers proudly, blowing more bubbles. "See, girls? That's how you know it's working. When you can burp the Prophet's blessing and breathe bubbles of his love, you know the dyke is dead. Now... it's your turn."

Molly gestures to the classroom behind her, where dozens of ex lesbian bimbos are each holding their own four liter jugs. In perfect, mindless synchronization, they begin to chug, the room filling with the sounds of desperate swallowing and the wet sloshing of enormous bellies.