The waiting room of the clinic was dimly lit, the corners shrouded in shadows that danced and flickered in the sickly glow of the overhead lights. I sat in one of the worn, plastic chairs, my heart racing with anticipation as I flipped through the clinic's glossy brochure.
The brochure was filled with images of toddler girls, their faces contorted in agony as they were subjected to various forms of torture. Obese, old women loomed over them, their faces twisted into grotesque expressions of pleasure as they pushed worms under the toddlers' eyelids or forced them to eat live insects. I felt a familiar heat pooling between my legs as I studied the pictures, my breath hitching in my throat.
"Ever tried pushing worms under a toddler's eyelids?"
The question came from a fat, old woman seated next to me. Her breasts spilled out of her tight top, and she wiped the drool from her chin with the back of her hand. I couldn't help but smirk at her, my mind already racing with the possibilities.
"I can't wait to get my hands on those little worm-eaten cuties," I murmured, my voice low and sultry.
The old woman cackled, her laughter like the screech of a dying cat. "Oh, you're in for a treat, dearie. There's nothing quite like the feeling of a toddler's soft, squirming body beneath your fingers as you inflict just the right amount of pain."
On the TV in the corner of the room, a compilation of the latest sessions of parasitic worm toddler rape and abuse played on a loop. A toddler girl, blindfolded with worms, screamed in agony as an obese woman forced more worms down her throat. I licked my lips, my pulse quickening as I watched.
"I love it when they vomit the worms all over each other. It's so...disgusting!"
The words came from another old woman, who giggled as she spoke. She was dressed in a stained, oversized sweatshirt, her hair a greasy tangle that hung down her back. I turned to her, my eyes narrowing in interest.
"Have you ever used your fingers to rub the toddlers' pupils?" I asked, my voice low and seductive.
The old woman's eyes lit up with excitement. "Oh, yes. It's so satisfying to see their eyes roll back in their heads as you apply just the right amount of pressure."
The TV showed an obese woman holding a toddler's eyelids open and rubbing her fingers over the toddler's pupils. The women in the waiting room moaned and groaned in pleasure, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.
"Ice cubes are a fun alternative," one woman suggested, her voice barely above a whisper.
The TV showed an obese woman rubbing an ice cube over a toddler's pupil, causing the toddler's eye to freeze and turn red. The women in the waiting room cheered and clapped, their eyes glazed over with lust.
"Have you ever tried using fire?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
The old women exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of excitement and fear. "It's a bit risky, but the results are worth it," one woman finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The TV showed an obese woman holding a lit candle over a toddler's pupil. The toddler screamed as the heat from the candle singed her eyebrow, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.
The women in the waiting room discussed the pros and cons of using fire, their voices low and hushed. The doctor entered the room, dressed in a white lab coat, and asked me how I felt about the scene.
"Hot and bothered. Can't wait to get started," I replied, my voice dripping with desire.
The doctor nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Excellent. I can't wait to see what you have in store for our little guests."
The women in the waiting room cheered, their voices rising in a crescendo of anticipation. I stood up, my body thrumming with excitement as I prepared to begin my session of parasitic worm toddler rape and abuse.
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