Olivia Munn

She gets up and brushes herself off. For reasons you don't understand she's fully covered in what looks like an expensive dress. You run over to claim her, whatever that means and you clearly see what you've been noticing in pictures of her for a while now.

She's had work done. Her lips are thicker. Her eyes are bigger. Her nose is smaller. And if possible her skin is lighter. She looks at you as you arrive at her and smiles. "Hi I'm Ol..."

"I know who you are." You snip. Maybe it's because you've just come from Natalie Portman coveting your cock, or you've degraded the shit out of your girlfriend of three years, or maybe it's that you're surrounded by a level of depravity you never thought possible. But you find yourself freed of any need to engage in pleasantries, courtesies, or human decency for that matter. "I have a question for you." you say.

"Ok." Olivia answers, her eyes struggle to focus on you. Maybe she's high.

"Who's turning you into a bimbo fuck toy?" Maybe you don't believe you're actually asking it to her face. Nah, you believe it. Fuck it, you're capable of anything right now.

"What?" Olivia seems very confused.

"Your new plastic face." you say. "Who convinced you to do it?"

"I... do the things I want. I'm empowered." She gets out a few sentences but she's still clearly zoned out. You give her a look to convey just how hard you fail to believe her. So she gives another answer. "My agent."

"Has he told you the porn market is just about the only thing left for you at this point?" You ask cruelly.

"What?" She responds.

"Jesus." You say. "How often is he skull fucking you to the point you lose oxygen?"

She just stares at you blankly. You wonder if maybe you should just leave her be. Let the other guys take her. A few of them are wandering over now. But you wave them off for the moment.

Fuck it, you think. Just go for it. You grab the top of her dress and pull hard. It tears easy and falls to the ground.

"Hey." She protests weakly. But you've already moved on to the next thing.

You stare at her tits. Her fake tits. Those haven't made their debut on the red carpet yet. You'd remember seeing them. And they're... fine. They're okay. Obviously fake because Olivia never exactly had big tits before. But the craftsmanship is almost disappointingly acceptable.

"You like them?" She asks.

"Fuck no." You snip. "They're a disaster." Olivia frowns and it's amazing how easily your answer comes to you. "They're not nearly fake enough." You say. "Look if you're going for fuck toy, why go with half measures? If you're gonna drop money on fake tits they should be huge. Giant. Like two basketballs on your chest. People should be embarrassed for you while at the same time being unable to look away." Olivia's eyes stay glossed but she smirks a bit. "Fuck toy is what you're going for, right?" You ask. "I hope so."

"I... I don't know."

You roll your eyes. "You know what, don't hurt your brain. Toys are objects and objects don't think anyway, right?" She looks at you blankly. "Here I'll help." You say, feeling a pressure building inside you. "We'll worry about looking the part later. You're hear to learn to act the part, right?" Again just a blank look from her. "On your knees." You say and she drops to her knees. At least she's got the obedience figured out. You hold your cock up to her mouth and she smiles. "Now you've got normal girls who will do very few nasty things, right?" She's looking up at you and listening, though you're not sure how much is getting through. "Then you've got sluts who will do some nasty things. But you still need fuck toys, right? Because a toy will do anything. Know why?" Still a blank look. You're confusing the fuck out of her. "Because if a toy can't talk and a toy can't think then a toy can't... say 'no.' Do you understand?"

"Y....yes." Olivia gives a good answer.

"Good. Now spread those fake fucking lips already."

Obediently, she does, parting her lips and closing her eyes. You can tell she has no idea what's about to happen. But that's okay. She needs to learn. That's what you're here for. That's what the Recovery Room is here for.

You relax your body to release the pressure building in your bladder. And the stream of warm piss flies from your cock right into her mouth.

Her eyes jolt open, but she doesn't close her mouth. You can see her brain working hard to figure out what's happening.

"You love it." you tell her.

She starts to breathe heavily as the piss fills her mouth and overflows, rolling off her face onto her fake tits and down between her legs. She reaches a hand down there and starts to rub. Technically toys don't rub themselves either, but you'll allow it.

She moans louder and louder. She rubs harder and harder.

"Doesn't it feel good to learn to be what you were meant to be?" You ask.

The sides of her mouth curl into a smile but she dares not close it. What a visual, you think, and nothing can ever take it away from you. Your fizzy piss filling up the mouth of a bonafide star. You're about done, and just to make sure she gets the point, as the last drops trickle from your cock, you lean your hand in, place a finger on her chin and slowly close her full mouth.

She swallows. A big gulp. And she coughs.

"There." You say. "now aren't you glad your agent threw you in here?'

She looks at you, confused as always, but this time soaked and filthy. Her brain processes. "My agent didn't... throw me in here. He's not here."

Ok, now you're confused. You're curious. "Then why did you get thrown in here?"