avaro56

Lip Gloss

Kayla leaned toward the bathroom mirror, sweeping the applicator of a new, shiny pink lip gloss across her mouth. The tingle was instantaneous. It wasn't a tingle; it was an invasion.

She stared, horrified, as her lips swelled, puffing into a huge, glossy, impossibly plump pink pout. "Oh!" she gasped, her voice already different. Her eyes widened in terror as dark, winged eyeliner painted itself onto her lids and false lashes sprouted. Her brown hair exploded from her scalp, bleaching platinum blonde in a voluminous cascade.

The change ripped down her body. Her plain t-shirt dissolved, replaced by a scandalous pink fishnet top. Her breasts erupted beneath it, swelling to a massive, heavy size. Her waist cinched painfully as her hips and ass blew outward, straining the matching high-cut bottoms.

The terror evaporated, replaced by a sparkling, empty curiosity. She stared at the bombshell in the mirror, a flirty, innocent smile on her perfect, pouty mouth.

Salon

Weather Girl

I clicked over to the local news, ready to tune out. Another new weather girl. Ugh. This one, Hannah, was painfully plain—a drab beige blouse, nerdy glasses, and a dull grey skirt. "Good evening. Cold front approaching..." she droned, looking terrified. I sighed, my thumb hovering over the remote.

BZZT!

The screen flashed with static. When it cleared... whoa. The glasses were gone. The beige sack was now a tight, teal dress, showing off a nice new rack. "...which is, like, a total bummer!" she chirped, her voice suddenly bubbly.

My hand paused.

SKREEE! Another, louder glitch.

The screen cleared, and I damn near dropped the remote. Yes. The nervous girl was gone, replaced by a goddess. She was poured into a tiny hot-pink dress, her tits massive and perfectly round, her hips impossibly wide. Her hair was a high platinum ponytail. She turned, striking that perfect 3/4 pose, her new ass jutting out.

"...it's a super-hot weekend! Bye!" she squeaked, her voice totally empty. She blew me a slow, glossy kiss.

I leaned in. Now this was a weather report.

Video Archive

Here all the videos with bonus, with more versions

edit: 10/25/2025

Bimbo, Wish 02

There's nothing more dangerous than feeling invisible in a crowded room. ✨ She made a wish to be noticed... and became the center of everyone's world. 🔥💋

Bimbo, Wish 01

She wished for an easier life... and the universe delivered. 💅💖 Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. 😉

Bimbo, Family

Why be smart when you can be stunning? 😉 Some family traditions are just non-negotiable. 💖💅

Transit, 71

The soft click of the suite’s main door was the only warning she received. Lori didn’t flinch. She remained sprawled on her stomach across the vast, opulent bed, propped up on her elbows, the golden phone held casually in her manicured hands1. Her face, a perfect mask of sultry boredom, was illuminated by the screen’s glow as she scrolled through the deluge of worshipful comments her latest posts had summoned. Each crude compliment, each desperate plea from a faceless fan, was a sip of the finest champagne, feeding the glorious, vain creature she had become. The only things she wore were the towering, glossy red platform boots, their laces crisscrossing all the way up her toned thighs.

Ivan P. stepped into the room and paused, his sharp, clinical gaze immediately locking onto the scene before him. The suite was exactly as he’d left it, but the main attraction was even more magnificent than before. Lori’s ass, freshly swollen from her recent transformation, was a masterpiece of surgical perfection. It was huge, shelf-like, and impossibly round, the two perfect globes separated by a deep, inviting cleft. The brand, “MADE IN THE USA,” was stretched taut across her left cheek, a declaration of quality he found darkly amusing2.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress. His expensive suit jacket was discarded onto a chair, followed by his tie and shirt. His eyes never left her form as his trousers fell to the floor, until he stood before her completely naked, his erection thick and heavy in the dim light.

Lori finally looked up from her phone, as if just noticing his presence. A slow, predatory smile spread across her plump, glossy lips 3. "I was waiting for you," she purred, her voice a low, throaty rumble of promise. With a fluid, practiced motion, she pushed up onto her hands and knees, presenting her magnificent, augmented ass to him directly. Then, she gave a deliberate, obscene shake of her hips, making the heavy, silicone-filled cheeks jiggle in a way that was utterly mesmerizing. It was a silent, shameless command.

Ivan moved to the bed, his presence radiating a cold, dominant energy. He knelt behind her, the heat from his body washing over her skin. Lori braced herself, expecting the immediate, stretching fullness of his cock, but he had other plans. Instead of penetrating her, he pressed the thick, wet head of his erection into the valley between her butt cheeks. He began to thrust slowly, his shaft sliding up and down between the firm, massive mounds of her ass.

"Oh, fuck," Lori moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered. The friction was incredible. She ground back against him, her own slickness moistening the base of his cock. This was a tease, a prelude she hadn’t expected but now craved with a desperate intensity. His hands gripped her waist, holding her steady as he continued the maddening, rhythmic friction, his cockhead rubbing against her tight, waiting entrance with every stroke.

After what felt like an eternity of this delicious torture, he pulled back. Lori whimpered in protest, but then she felt the blunt pressure of his cockhead pushing insistently against her. She relaxed instantly, her body knowing exactly what to do. He slid inside her with a single, deep, authoritative thrust, filling her completely.

"Yes," she screamed, the name a prayer to the god of her own depravity. "Fuck me, Daddy."

He began to move, fucking her with the relentless, piston-like rhythm of a seasoned porn star. He was using her, a product built for this exact purpose, and she gloried in it. Her heavy, enormous breasts swayed with each powerful thrust, their weight a thrilling pendulum marking the time of their filthy union4444. She moaned loudly, her voice echoing in the suite, a symphony of shameless pleasure. She was an anal queen, and this was her coronation5.

He reached forward, his hands gripping her massive tits, squeezing the firm, surgically-perfected globes roughly. "Perfect," he growled, his fingers finding the silver barbells of her nipple piercings and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Sharp jolts of pleasure shot through her, making her pussy clench helplessly around nothing as her ass tightened around his cock.

Then, with a sudden movement, he pulled out, flipping her onto her back. He pushed her legs back, lifting them high over her shoulders until her red boots pointed at the ceiling. The position was obscene, leaving her utterly exposed as he drove back into her from the front, his cock sliding deep into her ass once more. Now she could see him, his face a mask of cold lust as he hammered into her. Her breasts, free from gravity, splayed out across her chest like two magnificent offerings. He manhandled them as he fucked her, grabbing, squeezing, and pulling, his touch possessive and rough.

"Look at them," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Look at what you are."

Lori's eyes fluttered open, watching her own tits jiggle and bounce with each of his brutal thrusts. She was a spectacle, a caricature of sex, and it was the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The pleasure built, coiling tight and hot in her core, her moans becoming frantic, desperate screams. She was close, so close.

He could feel it. With a final, deep thrust that made her cry out, he pulled out of her ass. He stood over her, his cock slick and dripping. Lori’s eyes widened, her lips parting in anticipation. She knew what was coming. She offered herself to him completely.

He came with a guttural roar, his release erupting in thick, hot ropes that sprayed across her face and chest. Lori closed her eyes, not flinching, taking it all. The hot, sticky seed covered her plump lips, dripped from her chin, and splattered across her enormous, heaving breasts. She lay there, painted in his release, a masterpiece of her own submission. When he was finished, she slowly opened her eyes, a triumphant, slutty smirk on her face. She licked a drop of his cum from her lips, savoring the taste of her own perfect performance.

COVID...

Hi everyone,

COVID got me again; I hope to be able to post things by the end of the month.

This one is called "Frankenstein"...he really got me...

Take care of you, and thanks you for support to my work.

Avaro

Transit, 70

Gary shivered, pulling the collar of his dressing gown tighter. The London rain hammered against his flat window, a miserable, cold sound. He took a swig of his lukewarm tea, his thumb endlessly scrolling on his phone, chasing away the gloom. Then, she appeared. A new post from @Loripleasure. His heart gave a stupid little kick.

"Bloody hell, she's quick," he muttered, his thumb tapping the notification.

The first picture filled his screen. Lori, her platinum hair perfect, her lips impossibly plump and red, swallowing a dildo that was thicker than his wrist. The caption read, "Say hello to the Huge Yuri ❤️ #Moscow."

"Jesus," he breathed, zooming in. "She's just... so fucking hot." His eyes devoured the image. Her tits, massive and perfectly round, spilled out from under the toy. The silver barbells in her nipples were clearly visible. "Best fake tits on the internet, hands down. God, look at them..."

His thumb swiped, and the next post appeared. "Yuri ❤️ #Moscow." This one was even filthier. A close-up. The dildo, "Yuri," was buried deep in her arse. And she was spread wide open, her other hand holding herself apart, showing off everything—her slick folds, the glint of her clit piercing.

"Blimey..." A rush of heat went through him. He was one of thousands of guys looking at this, he knew, but it felt personal. She was a work of art. A perfect, surgically crafted goddess built for sin, and she loved showing it off. 2 He had to say something. His fingers flew across the keyboard, tapping out a comment.

GaryUK88: Fucking hell Lori, you're a goddess! 🔥 Those tits are perfect and you take that cock like a champ. Wish that was me! ❤️

He hit "Post" and leaned back with a satisfied sigh, taking another sip of tea.

Thousands of miles away, in an opulent hotel suite, Lori Pleasure lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. She wore nothing but her towering red platform boots and the heavy silver bracelets on her wrists. Her skin was still flushed from her orgasm, her newly enlarged ass tingling from its recent growth. The dildo, "Yuri," lay beside her on the silken sheets.

Her golden phone chimed. She'd posted the pictures just moments ago, and the validation was already pouring in. Her long, crimson nail tapped the notification. A new comment.

She read Gary's words, a slow, sultry smile spreading across her plump, glossy lips.

Fucking goddess.

"Damn right," she purred to the empty room.

Those tits are perfect.

She glanced down at her own chest, the massive, heavy orbs pressing against the bed. "They really are," she thought, feeling a jolt of pride.

Wish that was me!

Lori let out a low, throaty chuckle. The comment wasn't an insult. It was worship. The desperation and lust from this faceless man in the UK felt like a caress, a jolt of energy almost as potent as the orgasm she'd just had. This was what she was built for. She loved it. The adoration was a drug, and she was addicted.

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Big Bimbo Glow Up !

Are You Tired of Being Invisible? It's Time for Your Big Bimbo Glow Up !

OMG, hi!

Let’s be real for a second. Are you tired of being the girl in the "before" picture? The one standing awkwardly in the corner at the party, the one whose Friday nights were spent with a book instead of a boy? The one who was always the sensible friend, never the main event? I was that girl. A total Monet. From far away, okay, but up close, a big, fuzzy mess.

I thought that a "glow up" was something that just magically happened to other people. But here's the secret they don't tell you: it’s not magic, it’s a blueprint.

Welcome to My Big Bimbo Glow Up, the only "realistic" program that provides a step-by-step, all-inclusive guide to transforming from a total nobody into the ultimate babe. We don't just give you vague advice; we give you a detailed, personalized plan to construct the perfect you, from the inside out.

This isn't just an app; it's your new bible. Here’s how it works:

Module 1: Mindset Magic & Confidence Coaching First, we have to, like, totally delete your old operating system. Our daily guides and affirmations are designed to reprogram your brain. We’ll help you unlearn all that nerdy self-doubt and download the unshakable confidence of a goddess. You'll learn how to command attention, not just in a boardroom, but in the bedroom.

Module 2: The Doll Body Blueprint (Diet, Workouts & Directory) This is the core of your physical transformation. You get access to our exclusive "Bimbo Body" workouts and "Doll Diet" plans. But let's be honest—you can't get a body that literally stops traffic from just doing squats. That's why our most important feature is the exclusive, members-only Doll Doctor Directory. We have vetted and partnered with the world's top cosmetic surgeons to ensure your journey to perfection is flawless. From impossibly round breast implants to a surgically tiny waist, our directory is your secret map to the absolute best. This isn't just about looking good in a dress; it's about looking unbelievable out of it.

Module 3: The Glamour Guides Once the foundation is perfect, it's time to decorate! Our style modules teach you everything from mastering skyscraper stilettos to finding the perfect sequin mini-dress. We'll even show you what lingerie to wear underneath, for when the party really starts. Our expert makeup and hair tutorials will show you how to achieve that flawless, doll-like face every single day.

Your "Big Bimbo Glow Up" isn't just about upgrading your look; it's about upgrading your entire life. And let's talk about the best kind of upgrade. Your DMs will literally explode. You’ll go from being left on 'read' to having a waiting list of admirers. The program doesn't just make you the center of attention at the party; it makes you the only one they're thinking about after it ends. Your dating life will go from zero to infinity.

Stop waiting for a fairy godmother. It's time to take control.

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Brand Management

Transit, 69

The dildo’s thick, slick head pressed against her, a breath away from sinking into the wet heat she offered. But just as she was about to guide it in, a thought, sharp and insistent, cut through her arousal. This is… fine. Fine. Vanilla. It was the easy choice, the expected one. The memories, hot and fragmented, that now felt more real than her own past, screamed for something more. They weren't memories of gentle lovemaking; they were a highlight reel of transgression and filthy surrender. She remembered the specific praise, the clients who worshipped her for her other talent, the one that required more trust, more submission, more audacity. She was an anal queen, and a queen didn't settle for the common fare.

A low growl rumbled in her chest. With a new sense of purpose, she rolled onto her back, kicking her legs high into the air, the towering red boots framing her offering. The position was second nature; an invitation she had extended a thousand times in a life she was only now beginning to remember. She gripped the dildo, its impressive shaft glistening with lubricant, and guided its head not to the entrance she had first intended, but to the tighter, more forbidden one just behind it.

The toy slid inside her with a deep, stretching pressure that made her gasp, her back arching off the bed. It was a perfect, snug fit, pushing against the silver butt plug already nestled inside her, creating an exquisite double-fullness that sent waves of electrifying pleasure through her core. As she began to move her hips, sinking deeper onto the toy, her other hand moved instinctively between her legs. Her long, crimson nails brushed against her swollen folds before her fingertips found the cool, hard metal of her clit piercing. She began rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, the sharp jolts of pleasure from the front mingling with the deep, overwhelming fullness from behind.

Then, it started. A familiar, thrilling tingle deep in her spine, a warm burn spreading through her glutes. She looked over her shoulder, watching in a nearby reflection as her ass began to swell. The skin grew taut, the curves rounding out, becoming plumper, heavier, more perfectly spherical with each passing second. This wasn't a violation; it was an upgrade. It was the result of all that "work" she now remembered—the surgeries and injections to sculpt an ass worthy of its reputation.

"Oh, yes," she whimpered, her hips bucking faster on the dildo. The sensation of her own body reshaping itself was the ultimate aphrodisiac. The pressure of her growing buttocks, the relentless friction on her clit, and the deep, stretching fullness of the dildo all converged. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her mind dissolving into a haze of pure sensation. She was the artist and the canvas, the master and the slave. The pleasure became unbearable, coiling tight in her core before erupting in a massive, body-shattering orgasm that left her screaming into the empty, luxurious room.

Saved by a Stray

Transit, 68 Part 2

Lori’s crimson nails were a stark, predatory contrast against the smooth pink silicone as she guided the dildo's thick, glistening head back to her lips. Her mouth obscenely plumped and still tasting faintly of submission, parted effortlessly. There was no hesitation, no gag reflex only the practiced, slick slide of the toy sinking deep down her throat. It was a familiar emptiness, a welcome violation her body now craved.

Flashes, hot and fragmented, flickered behind her eyes. A blur of memories not hers, but hers now. The taste of a dozen different men, the rough texture of unshaven skin against her cheek, the satisfying weight of a heavy cock resting on her chin. She remembered them all, a gallery of conquests. The thin ones, the average ones… they were fleeting, forgettable. But the big ones… oh, the big ones. The ones that stretched her throat, that made her eyes water with effort and pleasure, the ones that felt like a true surrender those were the memories that lingered, that made her pussy clench with a phantom ache. This dildo, impressive as it was, was just another contender for the throne.

Pulling the toy from her mouth with a wet, obscene pop, she admired the sheen of her own saliva coating its length. A low growl rumbled in her chest. Oral was just the appetizer. Sprawling on her back across the luxurious bedspread, she spread her legs wide, a shameless invitation to the empty room. The shiny plug nestled inside her shifted, its pressure a delicious, constant reminder of her own depravity. She guided the slick head of the dildo to her wet, waiting cunt, her body arching in anticipation…

Transit, 68, Part 1

Lori slowly slipped off her plush fur coat, letting it slide carelessly from her shoulders and pool onto the floor behind her, forgotten. Her red clutch soon joined it, landing gently on the edge of the luxurious bed as she approached Ivan’s bold, provocative gift. Her breathing quickened, eyes alight with a mischievous gleam as she admired the sheer audacity of the twelve-inch dildo standing proudly on the silver tray, slick with anticipation.

A sultry smile curved her glossy lips as she reached out, delicate fingers wrapping around the toy's firm, textured shaft. Its impressive size and lifelike detail sent a ripple of excitement pulsing through her body. She gently lifted it, feeling its reassuring weight in her grasp. Every inch of her skin tingled as she imagined the overwhelming sensations it promised, her imagination flooding with decadent possibilities.

“Looks like we’re both going to have some fun tonight,” she whispered, her voice dripping with playful seduction. She brought the dildo slowly to her lips, allowing her full, enhanced mouth to brush gently against its smooth head. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her as she kissed the tip gently, savoring the feel of it, knowing it was just the first delicious taste of what was to come.

Her pulse throbbed hotly beneath her skin, her body heating rapidly in response to her bold intent. She ran her tongue slowly, sensually over the tip, leaving it glistening, teasing herself as much as the imaginary audience in her mind. Lori knew exactly what she wanted, and she was utterly unashamed in her pursuit of pleasure.

Holding the toy firmly, she stepped back toward the bed, eyes dark with anticipation, heart racing wildly. Tonight was hers to indulge, to embrace her desires without reservation, and she intended to savor every single wicked moment.

Transit, 67

Lori walked confidently down the luxurious corridor, each step resonating boldly in the hushed ambiance. Her crimson boots clicked provocatively against the plush carpet, drawing imaginary eyes to her exposed curves. There was no hesitation, no embarrassment—only pride and excitement. Her pulse quickened as she approached the sleek door that matched the number on Ivan’s keycard.

She lifted the card with her meticulously manicured fingers, swiping it casually against the sensor. The lock clicked softly, and the heavy door swung open to reveal an opulent bedroom suite that practically hummed with seductive promise. Lori stepped inside, taking in the lavish furnishings, rich textures, and subtle lighting designed to heighten sensuality.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the large, inviting bed. Positioned on a silver tray atop the plush duvet, illuminated under the soft glow of bedside lamps, lay Ivan’s thoughtful gift—a gleaming, imposing dildo that seemed exaggeratedly large even by her standards. Beside it rested a sleek, shimmering bottle of lubricant, both items practically radiating temptation and decadent indulgence.

Lori’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes darkening with lustful anticipation. She stepped closer, slowly, each click of her heels matching the heavy rhythm of her heart. Her gaze never left the tray, a soft moan of excitement escaping her plump, parted lips.

“Oh, Ivan,” she purred appreciatively, fingertips lightly grazing the cool, firm surface of the toy, savoring the anticipation. A delicious shiver ran down her spine, spreading warmth and excitement deep into her core.

A wicked smile spread slowly across her glossy lips, eyes glittering hungrily as she reached deliberately for the bottle of lubricant. Her voice was a breathy whisper of desire as she murmured to herself:

“Let’s have fun.”

MMA : The Gilded Cage

Transit, 66

Lori closed her eyes, savoring the vivid memory, every nerve still tingling from recalling that electrifying moment when she stepped onto the stage, proudly displaying her enormous new 2500cc implants. Her body had felt utterly exposed, raw with vulnerability and pulsing with intoxicating power. Every stare, every hungry glance, every gasp of disbelief had fueled her relentless hunger for more.

Opening her eyes again, she glanced down at her smartphone, a satisfied smile spreading across her plump, glossy lips as her gaze lingered on the provocative image of herself displayed on the screen. She paused thoughtfully, studying her own reflection—the carefully crafted nose, clearly sculpted by the skillful hand of a surgeon. She remembered vividly how people had always complimented her on having a "cute nose," perfectly shaped, delicate, appealing.

But "cute" was no longer enough—not nearly enough. She desired a face that unmistakably showed the world her devotion, her surrender to vanity and the explicit demands of desire. Her voice came as a breathy whisper filled with fierce determination:

"I want my face to look like it has been operated on."

Her fingertips lightly brushed her nose, already perfect but begging for companions: lush fillers sculpting swollen, kissable cheeks, Botox freezing her brow into perpetual seductive innocence, and her lips—oh, her lips—she imagined them full, plush, and obscenely inviting, the kind of lips made explicitly to entice and tease. Lips meant to whisper filthy promises, to drive men wild with fantasies of feeling them wrapped tightly around their cocks.

She felt her heart flutter and pulse quicken as her imagination painted each surgical enhancement vividly. She would become the ultimate object of desire, her commitment to artificial perfection displayed shamelessly for the world to see.

The elevator hummed quietly, seeming to tease and prolong her anticipation. Her reflection gleamed from every angle, reinforcing her resolve. Then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of anticipation, the soft chime signaled her arrival. The polished doors slid open, inviting her to step forward into the luxurious corridor beyond.

Lori straightened, pushing her shoulders back, proudly lifting her chest, and confidently stepping forward, heels clicking seductively against the marble floor.

"Let’s go, Doll," she purred softly to herself...

Transit 65, Interlude

Three days before, Lori leaned against the sleek wall of the elevator, eyes fixed on her smartphone as it ascended silently toward her hotel room. Her polished fingertips scrolled through the text on her screen, lips pursed in quiet judgment. A blog post had caught her attention—yet another fiery critique aimed at the empty-headed social media stars she despised, women who shamelessly flaunted their surgically altered bodies online, craving attention with exaggerated curves and provocative displays.

"It's genuinely tragic," the article read, "how many young women today willingly erase their identities, trading their dignity for a fleeting illusion of popularity. Filling their bodies with silicone, inflating their lips and chests, desperate to please a superficial gaze. When will they realize that vanity leads only to emptiness? Real strength and allure come from dignity, intelligence, and self-respect—not from transforming into plastic fantasies."

Lori nodded silently in agreement, her mind flooded with disdain for those women she had seen so often plastered across her feeds—"bimbos," she often thought, dismissing them coldly.

Yet, as she stood there, lost in righteous judgment, she felt a sudden chill—a curious, unsettling ripple of doubt. For a split second, her reflection in the mirrored elevator wall blurred, and Lori imagined herself transformed: enormous, swollen implants, absurdly exaggerated lips, and platinum-blonde hair cascading down her back—every detail a deliberate, brazen cry for attention.

She blinked sharply, dispelling the disorienting thought, heart racing uncomfortably. The elevator chimed softly as it reached her floor, and Lori quickly tucked her phone away, pushing the unsettling image from her mind.

"Ridiculous," she murmured firmly, stepping into the hallway. She had dignity, pride. She would never become one of them. The doors slid shut behind her, leaving only the faint echo of the woman she thought she'd never become lingering quietly in the silence.