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The blisters surrounding Miss Teacher’s vaginal entrance were beginning to leak fluid, mixing with her internal juices.
When they got home, dad didn’t even let him take a bath because it was too late so Charlie had to sleep with pussy rot on his extremity.
Her grey pubic hair was stuck together in sticky clumps all around her blisters. Charlie gagged. She lit a cigarette.
“Every little boy you diddled, I was there standing watch. Every tear that fell, asking you to stop, I was there.” Pip bent down once more. “And today ... every time you cry, it’s just gonna hurt even more,” he whispered.
Miss Teacher stared at the two in horror, terrified of what a doll could possibly be capable of.
“The letter C for cheese vapors - the smell of your cunt.”
“Jesus, do you ever bathe?” he asked. “Letter G for gunk flaps.”
“Fuck you, pipsqueak.” He laughed. “That’s a good one, Blister Betty.”
He inserted the needle into her pisshole and squeezed the end, injecting the entire syringe full of bleach directly inside her.

