Cupcake stood in the kitchen, donned in her uniform for the day. From top to bottom, Cupcake redefined the limits French maid outfits were willing to go in the good town of Cherish Valley.

Pink platform heels so high a girl was forced to be a ballerina for the day, locking ankle straps, and stockings the color of fresh cum, adorned Cupcake’s lower half. Umbrella-ing from her waist was the pleated, billowing skirt of the dress cinched around a microscopic waist corseted down to 17 inches.

Climbing further up was where the fun began. A heart-shaped cut-out with lace trim exposed Cupcake’s 34E milk udders… nipples at constant attention, like the tips of little pinky fingers. Puffed sleeves sat high on the arms of this porcelain doll of a woman, and a cinched choker of poofy lace had a near strangle-hold over her long neck.

Cupcake’s face, as always, was a work of art, thanks to Dr. Gruber and the good surgeons of Cherish Medical. On normal occasion, Cupcake could be found staring dumbly ahead, that spark of life that was once Allison Anders still desperately clinging on for dear hope, shown dimly still in her big doll eyes. A button nose cute enough to chew off and swallow spotted her face above two rolls of fleshy pink cock-sucking pleasure Cupcake knew as her lips.

But for today, Cupcake’s face had to match the extremities of the rest of her outfit... the parts I haven’t told you about yet. And so where her mouth once struggled to stay completely shut, it now was propped open into a large “O” by a contraption gag which lodged itself just behind the walls of her gums. Sealing itself around her outer lips, it added a good half-inch of width to the girl’s already luscious lips, temporarily giving her the face of a rubber blow-up doll, forever destined to lie stupid and swallow cock.

The upper-face completed this blow-up doll image, as two plastic contacts had been inserted over Cupcake’s eyes which, while not exactly obscuring her vision, kept her eye lids wide open for the duration of the day. Painted on brows that made a near-fairy tale arch on her forehead completed the image of a silly little dolly of a maid.

Now, getting back to those extremities. Cupcake’s other important holes were decorated for the day as well. With a skirt so stiff and umbrella-ed that it exposed the lower half of her ass and cunt, all could see how pretty and dressed up Melvin had prepared Cupcake’s nether region. In the front, a pink rubber washer forced Cupcake’s cunny snatch into an open inviting tunnel for cock. Behind, her cute little expanding chocolate lifesaver of a anus was dealt the same treatment, rimmed in pink rubber. So that Cupcake was a living, walking collection of cock-stuffing delight… dressed as a French maid.

For now, those tunnels were sadly without cock… but that would soon change.

Playing the maid wasn’t new to Cupcake. On hundreds of occasions she was doomed to remember, she had scampered about the kitchen on ballerina stilettos, with dildo plugs buzzing deep in her holes and a mop in her mittened hands, cleaning up the shit and piss puddles left by Melvin, an old man with constant need of diapering due to constant diarrhea. But Melvin, being a man who always saw the possibilities in any situation, treated his condition as a godsend to lay waste wherever and whenever he wanted. His silly little wife could either mop it up, or lick it up for all he cared. (but more and more, he cared for the latter option)

But the “skills” of a Cherish Wife were more than that of simple piss and shit disposals. Despite their reduced IQs, husbands could have the good doctors of Cherish Medical condition their sluts to at least know how to cook a good pot roast. And so Cupcake, like many, had unwillingly become a jack of all trades… or at least the slave’s trade.

Today would be different. Today Cupcake would be cooking, cleaning, and pleasuring strangers. For Melvin had guests, and there was lots on the menu.

Cupcake wasn’t alone in the kitchen. Dressed similarly to her, and with matching blow-up doll faces, stood two other maids, wives of Melvin’s guests. What was once Susan Lefferts, a paralegal destined to join the best firm in Los Angeles, was now Pammy, a cute, but not so bright, Italian brunette dressed in a baby blue maid’s outfit.

Angela Levine, a former brain surgeon that had graduated with honors from Harvard, was now Bubbles, a near retarded redhead that now didn’t even know what region of the body the brain was stored. Bubbles wore a yellow maid’s outfit the color of scrambled eggs, which nicely set off her fiery mane of candy orange hair where her obligatory maid’s bonnet sat.

Cupcake’s outfit was a bubble gum pink, her hair it’s usual vanilla blonde with severe bangs forming a perfect line above her arched eye brows and a dainty matching bonnet nestled safely atop her mass of bright hair. And although she had spent the past two hours cooking beside them in the sunny kitchen, Cupcake still found looking, in close-up, at the fetishsized faces of her fellow maid’s repulsive. Wide open rubber mouths could do nothing but drip a lot. That spillage collected in little plastic Dixie cups attached to each girl’s pinafore bib. Staring at Pammy’s near-full Dixie cup of congealed drool, Cupcake made an “ehnnn, ehnnn,” noise, which signaled the fourth girl in the room that a clean-up was necessary.

Dressed like a little girl in her pink Alice In Wonderland dress, Penelope Andrews, the fourth girl in the room, approached the maid’s, skipping in her black, patent leather Mary Jane’s, a cock-shaped lollipop in her hand, and a head of French curls, tasseled with lace and ribbon. The daughter of an extreme “little girl” fetishist, Penelope was once a 17 year old girl who wanted nothing more than to turn 18 years old so her geezer of a father would finally start taking her seriously. Hell, she’d even start smoking now that she could… just to spite him and all his old school traditionalist morals.

The only problem was, Richard, her father, wanted nothing to do with this plan. And so upon Penelope’s 18th birthday, he moved the family to Cherish where he had his wife Miranda turned into a big breasted Nanny, and his daughter, Penelope, transformed into a simpering image of a little girl - a near replica of Shirley Temple, his childhood crush and the first image of femininity to ever make him cum in his shorts.

And so, instead of using her fake ID to get into bars where she could smoke cigarettes and go dancing with her friends, Penelope’s days were erased of any such cool adult things. All because her perverted and decrepit old father had once happened to catch Shirley Temple on TV in Little Miss Marker when he was a horny teen, Penelope was now trapped in childhood forever, doomed to spend her days playing with dolls dressed exactly like her, watching Sesame Street, and shitting in her diapers with an ass rendered near incontinent.

Today, however, she had been given a “big girl” job, which was to keep an eye on the silly little maids and make sure their drool cups were properly emptied every 30 minutes.

Snapping the little pink Dixie cup off the holder on Pammy’s pinafore, little Penelope placed it gently on the counter. She then went over to Bubbles and Cupcake’s drool cups and removed them too. Next, was Penelope’s favorite part: One by one, she approached each maid with her color-coordinated Dixie cup. Cupcake was fed Pammy’s pink cup, to match her pink uniform. With a mouth trapped open, Cupcake could do nothing but gag from her lower throat as Penelope stood on tip toes and poured the full cup of congealed drool down Cupcake’s protesting throat. It was her 5th helping of the day of pure drool, but Cupcake still wasn’t used to it. She felt as if she were being made to swallow the left-over saliva-waste of another woman… and in a way, that’s exactly what it was.

Still, Cupcake took some perverse pleasure in observing the looks of stark horror on the faces of her fellow maid’s as they were given their doses of Dixie cup drool likewise.

With the cooking completed and the plates and drinks set, the maid’s stepped away from the stove and counters and Penelope prepared for her next big girl job. Affixing their arms into single, leather gloves, which looped around each shoulder and laced up tightly at their backs, forcing their elbows impossibly together and their hands tightly against the smalls of their backs, Penelope one by one turned the maid’s into armless servants. The bondage arm-gloves matched their uniforms and were concealed by lace and the long hair which draped down the backs of the maid’s heads.

But where the maid’s arms once were, amendments to their outfits had been made in advance, and fake, mannequin-like arms were then attached. The short, puffy sleeves of the transforming outfit did nothing to conceal the long, plastic arms each girl now possessed. If you were looking at the maid’s from the front, you would think they were amputees that had been given mannequin arm transplants. But their real arms lay safely, if not uncomfortably, strapped behind them.

When each girl’s new “arms” were attached, Penelope then went and pulled large, rubber gloves over each girl’s “hands.” Similar to the gloves Mario and Luigi of Super Mario Brothers wore, these gloves were large enough to be comical, but small enough to be economical enough to hold a dinner tray. And so when each girl had her gloves on, Penelope carefully began loading up their trays, which besides laying on top of the poofy white hands they now possessed, was strapped around their waist by a secure metal bracket.

The completed picture displayed three bimbo maids, a collection of latex, lace, mannequin, and blow-up doll. Gaping orifices in the mouth, cunt, and ass. Little cups collecting their next 30 minutes of saliva waste. Pastel colors over creamy porcelain skin, make-up, and silly little minds. And an affixed tray of dinner and drink.

Let the party begin.

Pushing open the doors of the kitchen, Penelope guided the three maids into the room where Melvin and company all sat lazily around a long couch, a golf tournament playing loudly before them on the large-screen TV.

At the sight of the silly looking yet ultra-hot maids, the men all mockingly began clapping and Hurraying. Richard, not wanting his little girl to ruin the spectacle the maid’s were making, called out, “C’mon ‘ere, baby doll!”

Skipping across the living room, large pink bow bouncing off her curly mane of hair, Penelope leaped onto Rick’s lap and immediately pushed a thumb in-between wet, pink lips, like she was taught.

Hobbling towards the long coffee table, Cupcake led the way as the maid’s one by one kneeled carefully on the carpet so that their dinner trays were level with the table. The men immediately began laying the food and plates out across the coffee table, trading glances between the golf tournament on TV, and the three pastel colored bimbos before them.

Herman, Bubble’s husband, satisfied with the plate before him, signaled to his crotch. Bubbles made her way towards him, carefully walking on knees so as not to put a tear in her stockings. Like a trained puppy, Bubbles halted before her master’s lap. Leaning forward, Herman pressed a button that rested on the inside of the gag in Bubbles mouth. A second later, the rubber lips of the gag began to expand and inflate, like a balloon, until what was once a gaping hole on her face now blew up until a tight little hole, about the size of an asshole, was all that remained where her “mouth” once was. Unzippering his slacks, Herman grabbed a mat of his wife’s candy apple hair and impaled his cock into the tight little hole of her inflated “lips”. Unable to do anything but suck and drool, Bubbles committed herself to becoming a human blowjob machine for as long as Rick could hold his load… which was quite long.

Jeff, Pammy’s overweight husband, was too busy watching the tournament to even notice Bubble’s and her cocksucking attributes, or the fact that Pammy still kneeled before him waiting to have her tray unloaded. In her former life, Pammy hated golf. She hated her husband watching golf. She hated the food he’d stuff his fat face with when he played golf. The beer he’d drink with his friends at the course’s local pub. He’d come home stinking of Miller Genuine Draft and want to feel her up and call her “baby” while he watched ESPN’s recaps that night.

To combat this fixation with junk food, booze, and golf, the former Mrs. Susan Lefferts, Los Angeles paralegal with a slob for a husband, did everything in her power to make life for Jeff hell. If she wasn’t chastising him about his diet habits 24/7, she was hiding his golf clubs, conveniently forgetting to tell him when his friend’s called to hang out, and even going so far as to get him on a strict exercise regime.

All of this was thrown out the window when Jeff moved his smart, legal bitch of a wife to Cherish Valley last year. Things had changed for Susan very quickly, and from the morning she awoke in a hospital bed as Pammy the bimbo wife, she had drank nothing but Jeff’s piss… eaten nothing but Jeff’s vomit and feces… and for dessert, enjoyed nothing but his cock-snotted cum. See, Jeff may have been an unfit slob, but he was a vindictive unfit slob. He had even done the medical research, met with covert health experts, and prepared long and hard for his trip with Susan to Cherish, knowing that a steady life-long diet of piss, shit and cum was indeed possible… and very necessary in the case of his bitchy lawyer of a wife.

For Susan, life as Pammy was a living, breathing nightmare. Unlike some husbands who wanted their wives to just be complete airheads with no memory, Jeff shared Melvin’s sadistic side for making them airheads who could remember, all too well, what they once were and would never be again. So every morning, lunch and night… every spoonful, dollop, and healthy dosage of Jeff’s bodily waste, just added to the inevitable cracking of Pammy’s mental state, a day Jeff awaited and would relish.

Recounting the horror that was now her life, Pammy accidentally lost her knee placement on the rug, toppling a fresh pint of Miller Genuine Draft all over and onto Jeff’s plate of pot roast, squash, and green peas.

The room seemed to grow quiet. Melvin, who was busy nibbling on a piece of corn bread while dipping a finger coated in gravy deep into Cupcake’s exposed cunny snatch was the first to turn and see the devastating look of immediate sadness on Pammy’s face as she realized her blunder.

“What the hell,” said Jeff, staring down at his ruined plate of hard cooked food.

“Ughhnnnn…” pleaded Pammy, as she instinctively leaned back, a line of drool collecting on her chin. But Jeff was quick, and with a whish of air, he planted a fat smack against Pammy’s left cheek, nearly knocking her off balance again.

The smack sounded like a well-placed spanking on some bimbo’s bubble of an ass. The room grew even quieter as the TV was lowered and the sound of Bubble’s vacuum of a mouth making squishy blowjob noises become the room tone.

“So, even now… new city, new house… new tits and lips for my precious little lawyer… Even now I can’t sit and watch the golf game without something being thrown back in my face.” said Jeff, his tone growing louder, angrier.

If Pammy could talk, she would apologize, she would say it was a mistake. She would say she was a good girl now. She was his “baby.” She would never say or make him do those things again.

She would say it would never happen again.

But Jeff had her say those things every night anyway, and it did no good. And even if it would, right now she couldn’t talk. All she could do was drool and cry behind plastic eye contacts, unable to close and hide from whatever Jeff was going to deal out to her.

“Dick, have that little strawberry shortcake of yours go fetch my golf balls from my bag, will ya.”

“You heard him, dear.” commanded Richard, as Penelope hopped up and skipped over towards Melvin’s front door where the guys had all dropped off their golf bags earlier in the day. Skipping back over, Penelope placed a handful of dirty, used golf balls on the large man’s lap, giving an icky face as she did. Jeff planted a wet, smelly kiss on Penelope’s forehead. “Good girl.”

He then pointed a fat, stubby finger at Pammy and said, “You… bad girl.” This got an immature laugh from the rest of the men in the room. Bubbles would have wanted to watch, but her conditioned brain was in bliss, knowing that this sweat hog of a cock touching the back of her throat was the only thing she need care about in this moment on Earth.

Cupcake, still standing on painfully high heels wanted to cry for Pammy, but she had her own problems. Melvin had a way of getting ideas from his friends, and she was quite frightened that whatever plans Jeff had for Pammy would later be dealt to her.

While Cupcake was wrestling with these horrific thoughts, a wrinkled, gravy-coated finger struggling from arthritis, buried deep in her cooch, Jeff was grabbing a mat of his wife’s raven Mediterranean hair and yanking her closer to him. Removing her maid’s tray, Jeff pushed her, face first, over his lap, so that she was in prime “spanking position.”

With a hard yank, Jeff pulled her short, crisp maid’s skirt higher than it already was, causing the plug which opened her anus to yank upwards. This got a loud throaty gagging scream from Pammy… two lines of drool extending from her rubber lips and into her cup.

Seeing this, Jeff grabbed the first golf ball and daintily dipped it into his wife’s drool cup. Removing it from the cup, the ball looked like it had been dipped in cum. Cobwebs of saliva hung from it and Jeff savored the look his wife gave when he held it up to her open eyes to see. She already knew where it was going, as did everyone else in the room.

Still, when Jeff began to push the dirty, drool-coated golf ball into his wife’s pert little button of an anus, Pammy squirmed and screamed from within her lower throat… a horrible sound that only the men of Cherish could get off on, as they knew it all too well. You’d hear it while your wife tried to turn her head far enough from a spoonful of steaming feces. You’d hear it when a husband started his 10th round of spanking for the night. You’d hear it when a husband decided he wanted to brand his name and cell phone number on his wife’s ass cheek so if she got lost, people would know where to return her. It was the sound of pain for one, and pleasure for another. A seamless mix sometimes.

Pammy had been trained well and would have known to squirm even if this felt good and not vile. After all, Jeff liked her to beg, he liked her to fight… he liked her to squirm and try and escape whatever he could find and put into her asshole each the day. But all the squirming and screaming couldn’t save her and one by one, Jeff pushed the balls deep into her smelly cherry pot.

During the third ball, Jeff had an idea. “Melvin, think I could borrow that tart of yours for a moment? My wife looks like she could use a little dessert to go with this stuffing.”

Melvin removed his old hairy finger from Cupcake’s cunt with a “swquiishhhh” noise, thick gravy dripping from its nether lips. He then planted a good, firm smack on her pillow of an ass. “You heard the man. Go!”

Cupcake hobbled forward towards Jeff, unsure of what was expected of her. When she was as close to him as she could get, without touching Pammy’s face, it dawned on her feeble mind what was in store for her, and despite how the day was going, she was relieved.

Placing his fat hand into Pammy’s mouth, Jeff removed the rubber lip gag with a wet “splooosh” of released saliva.

“Arhoooow.” said his wife as her mouth was freed from the sadistic gag. Racing to exercise her jaw muscles, Pammy savored the few seconds of freedom she was granted. But that was exactly when Jeff grabbed her hair again and said, “I think it’s time for your dessert. Nibble on Melvin’s little cupcake like a proper slut. He’s got some gravy coddler for you.”

Jeff, knowing how deplorable the former Mrs. Lefferts found girl on girl action, smiled a fat, slimy smile as his wife’s protesting mouth was mashed into Cupcake’s hot, steaming, honey patch of a cunt.

“Daddy Dick, can I go watch?” asked Penelope.

“Sure, baby. Go ahead.” said Rick.

Penelope skipped over to the action and was soon kneeling as close as she could as Pammy was forced to lick, nibble, and eat out Cupcake’s wet snatch. Already their were warm pussy juices collected at her chin for, despite how much she hated it, Cherish Medical made sure that Pammy was to be a queen muff eater.

Cupcake meanwhile was in bimbo heaven. As artificial as Cherish Medical might have made her, the most natural enhancement they had given her was the ability to give and receive pleasure. Writhing up and down, her pelvis thrust her snatch further into Pammy’s now hungry mouth…tongue impaling her like a flexible cock. And that was when Jeff began the ruthless spanking of Pammy’s ass… each smack stuffing the dirty, round golf balls further in.

Smack!

Muffle scream…

Smack!

Muffled shriek…

Smack!

Muffled sobs…

When the spanking was over, Pammy would be made to shit each ball out into a bowl her husband held. She would then be made to suck and lick each ball clean so that they’d be ready for his game tomorrow with the boys.

But that wouldn’t be till tomorrow. And the spanking would last as long as it took Cupcake to cum in his wife’s face with her hot, sticky pussy juices.

And so Penelope watched like a little girl with her nose pressed against the TV as Barney or Blue’s Clues played. But this was no children’s show she was watching. This was now the life of four airheads, formerly women and adolescents with futures, aspirations, dreams… all dashed by the wants and needs of horny, intelligent, sadistic men.

If either Penelope, Pammy, Bubbles or Cupcake had the right frame of mind to look, they would see two things. They would see Melvin watching Penelope, licking his lips, getting ideas. Then, they would see Richard watching Cupcake, stroking his crotch, observing her perfect shade of vanilla blonde hair. Not too platinum, not too strawberry... The color of pure bimbo. Her curls were a thing of beauty, they painted a visage that begged to be fully transformed into what he strived for with his daughter: total, simpering little girlhood.

He studied Cupcake’s glorious tits and her erect nipples. Her heart-shaped ass and its button tunnel of an anus…the ass just begging for a proper spanking… the anus asking to be deeply invaded. Blue eyes like a doll’s… so big and innocent...so ready for more corruption and depravity. Continuing down now, beneath the rubber gag was her glistening, pink, cock-sucking lips, drooling with hunger and pleasure. They begged to be wrapped around a dildo-shaped pacifier. A binky that would inflate her mouth and remind her of Daddy Dick’s hairy cock, and its nurturing assurance.

“Cupcake…” he whispered. “Daddy’s little girl…” stroking his cock hard now, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice as he came hard and sudden in his trousers.

Cupcake was a walking Barbie Doll. Exquisite. The best Cherish had to offer. And Richard wanted her for his own. He wanted her in diapers, sucking on that dildo-shaped pacifier like it was her thumb (or his cock). Shitting in her diapers and crying as “Daddy Dick” fucked her to sleep… sang her a lullaby

“Penelope, give Cupcake a kiss.” said Richard.

Penelope stood up, and with a little cupid’s bow of pink lips, she pressed her mouth against Cupcake’s blow-up doll face. She tickled the roof of her mouth with a curious little girl’s tongue. She planted cute little kisses up and down what would soon belong to Richard.