My Little WASP: customer satisfaction (futa, female, size, impregnation)

Customer Satisfaction

Squeezed in middle of suburban setting between the duplexes, the large three story fake brick manor with fanciful turrets and towers at the corners bringing to mind a fairy-tail château looked sorely out of place. Same as the house, the still skinny preteen girl standing at the iron gate was incongruous in the ballroom princess gown she was wearing. And also like with the house, someone had done a lot of work refitting the adult version, elegant deluxe dress’ bodice to flatter the meager curves.

Called Cinderella, and not just Cindy as her mother had named her, had nothing and everything to do with the gown shimmering in all shades of blue. The reason everybody called her Cinderella was that nobody in their right mind disagrees with someone who can build a mound of cars by tossing all the vehicles in the mall’s parking area into one big pile on top of which to play the princess of the hill. Even if she is only 4 feet and don’t weight more than 60lbs. Not more than once. Not if she insists herself to be called Cinderella, or if she asks for something she wants.

The white anglo-saxon princess in front of the ersatz castle could hardly contain her excitement. The three inch translucent plastic heels had practically skipped the whole way home from school in glee. Inside the designer My Little Pony bag pouncing at her back was a thingamajig from her friend Hannah that would provide the means for the last, missing piece that would finally make the castle complete. A pink tongue tip extended to lick the lips curling at remembering the day when the idea of a castle had struck. For a princess, the notion of a palace to live in had been quite logical one.

~~~

Adjusting again the camera’s focus at mouth slurping and throat working frantically below cerulean hemline gathered up to slim waist, Ms. Pazolla enthused from behind a tripod, “That’s excellent idea, Cinderella!”

“What about you, Miss June?”

To allow answering, a thick flesh scepter had to be hauled out from the girdle formed by thin stretched red lips, leaving behind a gooey tendril connecting its tip to a chin. Kneeling naked in mid aisle, the voluptuous, melon titted and titian haired shop manager could have made the cover of any fashion magazine which didn’t pander to anorexic stereotype. The reason she was the perfect model for lush June. Deep inhaling setting of paroxysm of coughing, blowing spittle and bubbles, graceful throat gulped several times. The glutinous residuals clogging the esophagus cleared she stammered, “So-Sorry Cinderella, I was so preoccupied I didn’t catch the question.”

“I said, we need more and different kind of footage.” A dainty plastic slipper tapped in impatience on the floor tiles as the query was repeated.

“Of course! What a wonderful idea!” Came hasty, wheezing agreement.

The wide angle lens focused on the retracted, dangling extent. Panning the camera back and fort along and the unbelievable length the art teacher didn't forget to offer her support behind the tripod.

“It’s smashing idea, like this video calendar is marvelous idea, Cinderella. And we have plenty of time. There is still over hour’s worth left at high definition.”

Totally adorable heartbreaker in her glimmering gown, the preteen girl brandishing an unprincessly cumbersome flesh scepter beamed at the two adult women. Basking in their mesmerized and enthusiastic agreements at the splendidness of artist activity performed in the store.

“I think the next scene should be there. What do you think?” An imperious wave pointed at the large, extensively stocked fruit stall at the aisles end.

“That’s just brilliant, Cinderella!” The dazzlingly platinum blonde teacher’s agreement couldn’t have been heartier, unless the suggestion had been her to take a spreadeagled pose there. And if the suggestion had been to stuff one of the cantaloupes from the stall inside the box between her legs and carry it that way to checkout, it wouldn’t have strained the said box. Not measurably, considering the dimensions it had been over the past years been numerous times expanded. Now, the melons might have poised some challenge. The bigger ones at least.

Hurried by tapping foot, the glamour-puss model duckwalked as fast as she could to stand beside the impatiently waiting artist. Tense hands cradled the sloshing, fake six-month b

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