I’m sitting in this weakening shirt that clings to My tits just wrong, the fabric stretched over My massive bust so tight you can’t help but stare. I tell you to confess your love, and you blurt it out like the pathetic addict you are, because these boobs make you do stupid things. You want them, you need them, and you know you’ll lose yourself when I make you say it again and again.
I press My heavy, delicious tits into your face and watch your resolve collapse. Your Addiction only deepens as you breathe Me in, fumbling for more surrender. Stay tuned, loser, because once I take over your mind, draining you of every sensible thought is the only thing I enjoy more than watching you beg.