Test-Tube Body (6-12) headswap science crazyscience undercover witnessprotection busty model

— Yeah, baby, like that, now turn your chin a bit to the right… stop. Freeze. Perfect, — the photographer’s voice sounded soft and businesslike at the same time.
Olivia Brown, now better known through her OnlyFans as Liv Overflow, froze.
"Baby. Freeze. Perfect" — it darted around in her head while the hand braced against the couch slightly clenched the upholstery fabric with fingers tipped with long, glossy polish, as if looking for something to hold on to.
— Mark… — she breathed out without changing her pose. — Could you not call me baby?
— What? — Mark Levin replied, clicking the shutter. — What are you talking about, babe?
"Is he fucking with me? Why are all photographers such... assholes?" — she thought with anger mixed with sadness and shifted her gaze slightly to the side, somewhere past the camera lens, somewhere back to that filthy basement room where she had woken up about a year ago and, for the first time in her life, felt that damn heavy and so wrong weight on her Breasts.
Back then she, or rather he, still used to the name Charlie Kramer and sure that this name would stay with him for the rest of his life, tried to scream, to call for help, to struggle, but instead only quiet air came out of his throat.
"Easy, girl, your vocal cords are still healing," that creepy old man said back then, Doctor Elias Kramer, too brilliant and too insane. The man who created her body in a "test tube" and at the same time the one who first called her "girl." At the time Charlie was sure it was some kind of joke, mockery, but soon, when the shock faded and the doctor step by step began running tests and talking about the female body, and Charlie more and more started to understand that he could no longer ignore the constant itch between his legs that made everything inside clench while his nipples got hard like wood, then he realized this was no joke. And when the first period came, it became the final nail in that coffin of femininity which, by some strange coincidence, lined up with the cops showing up.
They did everything fast, as if it couldn’t have been done earlier. But all of Charlie’s hopes that the scientists could put his head back onto his body turned out to be nothing but empty dreams. All the technology and research was destroyed during the raid on the lab by enraged people Elias had experimented on.
The only thing the feds could do was give Charlie new documents, sending him, or rather her, into an adjacent department that handled hiding criminals who decided to testify or witnesses whose lives were in danger. Yeah, unfortunately everything fell under a “classified” label. Even the witness protection staff were sure Charlie was just an ordinary young frightened woman who needed to be hidden from some abusive maniac. No one even suspected that she was a man who just yesterday ran a massive furniture showroom and thought the hardest thing in life was counting quarterly sales.
— Baby, hey, what’s wrong, you spaced out there? — Mark said, the photographer turning his head and looking from Olivia to the point her gaze was fixed on, — You thinking about the... curtain?
— I… — Olivia blinked, like surfacing from water, and instinctively squeezed the inside of her thigh with her hand, immediately realizing how stupid it looked, — No. Stupid pose… — she breathed out, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.
Mark tilted his head slightly to the side, looking at her over the camera.
— Stupid? — he dragged out with a faint smirk. — Liv, with the way you look, any pose can be called anything you want, but definitely not “stupid.”
Olivia lowered her leg, her brows knitting.
"I should’ve stayed a sales clerk in that store the feds shoved me into," she thought, but then immediately cut herself off with another thought: "yeah, right, so that instead of aiming for the director’s desk like before, I’d end up under that desk with that asshole’s dick in my mouth?! So that people would come to the store not to buy furniture, but to stare at these huge dumb Tits I can’t hide no matter what? Or so that every time I bend down for the lower shelf, some lady whispers behind my back ‘what a cow,’ and the men ‘oh I’d totally fuck that…’? Hell no! At least here everything’s honest, and the money’s better!"
— Get on all fours, — Mark said, cracking his neck joints as if it were the most ordinary work request, like “a bit closer to the window.”

Olivia didn’t answer right away. She inhaled slowly, feeling the air push against her Breasts, feeling the bra remind her of itself again with its stiff lace and tight stretch.
"On all fours… Of course. Where else," — flashed through her mind with dull, tired irony.
— Right now? — she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, professional. Not like inside, where everything tightened.
— Well of course, — Mark had already lowered himself a bit to change the angle, adding with a smirk. — Baby, you act like it’s your first time doing this.
"No, not the first, damn you! But the first time with you, because my previous photographer tried to fuck me," she thought, feeling everything tighten in her stomach — and that tightness wasn’t fear, but a worn-out anger at herself for the fact that thoughts like these had even become part of her job.
— Fine, — Olivia said out loud at last. — One moment.
She moved slowly, feeling her knees sink into the soft cushion of the couch, and her heavy Breasts immediately press hard into the huge cups of the bra that held those massive spheres. The fabric stretched to its limit, the wide straps of the custom-made bra dug into her skin, leaving reddish lines Olivia barely noticed anymore — they had become part of her usual background, just like the constant pressure low in her belly that only went away after half an hour with her “toys.”
— There… yeah… — Mark perked up instantly, shifting a little to the side. — Wait-wait, don’t straighten up. Perfect. Shit, Liv, your ass is just… mmm. Amazing. And that arch.
— Arch? — she said in surprise, turning her head and feeling her white-manicured fingers slide slightly over the fabric as she instinctively tried to redistribute her weight — but instead only arched her back even more and pushed her ass up higher, immediately feeling the garter belt dig painfully into her thighs, one strap pulling to its limit.
— Exactly the arch, — Mark crouched lower, almost lying on the floor to catch the angle from below upward. The shutter clicked almost nonstop. — Just like that… hold it. God, Liv, this is perfect! You really do look right now like… like you just can’t wait.
She swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her hair fell over her face, sticking to her sweat-damp cheek. Olivia jerked her head sharply, trying to shake it away, and from that movement her Breasts swayed forward, almost spilling completely out of the cups. The bra let out a pitiful creak along the seams.
— Yeaah… look into the camera… yeah, like that, over your shoulder… part your lips a little… o-oh, perfect.
"Mouth… God… I look like…" she thought, imagining how one of her former employees from the store where she, Charlie, used to be the director would open these photos and tell everyone how “this big-titted bitch looks like our asshole director who disappeared a year ago,” and then pull out his dick and start jerking off right over these shots.
Those thoughts sent shivers down Olivia’s spine, making her close her eyes and let out a heavy breath.
— Yeaah, baby, that’s some passion! — Mark almost sang it, not taking his eyes off the camera screen, and immediately reached into the bag lying next to him on the floor with his other hand.
— I asked you not to call me... — Olivia stopped short when she saw the huge pink dildo with a suction cup that Mark pulled out of the bag as calmly as if it were a spare camera battery.
— What the fuck is that? — it burst out of her, her voice breaking, going higher than usual.
Mark didn’t even look up at her right away. He turned the dildo in his hand, pressing the suction cup with his thumb, as if judging the quality of the plastic.
— This? This is your best friend for today, Liv. — He smirked with the corner of his mouth. — Strong suction, soft silicone, size… well, let’s just say it fits your brand. Subscribers have asked a hundred times when you’ll finally move on from “just teasing” to something more serious.
Olivia was still holding the pose, but now her back tensed even harder. Her ass stayed lifted high, but grew tighter, more strained, and between her legs, damn this body to hell, that same dull, throbbing heat she hated more than anything suddenly flared up. The kind that came not by her will, not by desire, but because this damn body always wanted.

Olivia clenched her teeth, feeling her thigh muscles twitch on their own, as if her body had decided to play along with the situation.
— Fuck… — she breathed out through her teeth, almost inaudible, but her voice betrayed her, trembling, slipping into a languid note. — Put that away…
But instead Mark sharply slapped the thing onto the bedside table next to the couch, so a rubbery “thwap” echoed through the room as the suction cup stuck tightly to the wood and stayed standing upright, swaying slightly, as if teasing her.
— Just take it in your mouth, — he said calmly, almost casually. — Pretend you’re alone. At home. No one’s watching. You just felt like it. Just you and that thing. Well?
Olivia sucked in a sharp breath through her nose. The suction cup was still swaying on the nightstand — slow, hypnotic, like a metronome counting down the seconds until her surrender.
— I’m not alone, — she hissed. — And I’m not… not… taking anything in my mouth!
Her voice broke on the last word, went higher, almost childish from anger and shame. But mostly because she knew it wasn’t true. That literally two hours before the photographer arrived she had been lying in bed, one hand between her legs, and in her mouth was almost the same pink thing, only a bit smaller and with a different shaped tip. She had been moving her hips against her own hand, muffling her moans into the silicone until the orgasm hit her in a short, almost painful spasm. After that she lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weak pulse inside her, and hating herself for how easily the body got what it wanted.
— Mark… — she began slowly, — I don’t want porn.
He raised his eyebrows, as if he had been waiting for this talk for a long time.
— Why? Your looks, your body… — he waved his hand around, — hell, you could pull in so much money you’d only remember OnlyFans at some point while sitting on your own yacht, like something ridiculous.
Her gaze, despite her trying to hide it, kept drifting back to that pink monstrosity sitting dangerously close. Her nipples stretched the soft fabric of the cups painfully, her mouth was still slightly open on its own, and thin unwanted drool slid down her lower lip.
— Come on, Liv, for fuck’s sake, I can see you want it yourself, — Mark said more calmly now, lowering his tone, raising the camera to his eye but not daring to take a shot, like a professional who knew he had to wait for the right moment.
She clenched her fingers around the couch fabric and squeezed her eyes shut. Her breathing stumbled, and in her head that image kept flashing again and again — way too close and way too desired.
"No, no… resist, just resist… at least wait until he leaves…"
— Alright, — Mark cut into her thoughts even quieter. — Let’s do it without the camera. I’ll even look away.
Olivia opened her eyes. Mark had indeed already turned to the side, the camera lowered, his gaze fixed on the window where dull daylight barely seeped through the thick curtain.
— I’m not looking, — he added in an even voice. — You can do whatever you want. Or nothing. I’ll just sit here for a minute or two.
Olivia stared at his profile, but her eyes saw only the dildo, patiently waiting for her decision. It swayed — though more likely it just seemed that way. But what was much clearer was that she heard it whisper: “You want it. You already did it this morning. You remember my taste. You remember how good it feels. And no one is watching.”
She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth creaked.

“No. I’m not…”
But her hand was already slowly, inevitably reaching forward and wrapping around the silicone just below the head. “That’s it… good girl…,” that voice kept going as she squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head. The smell of silicone hit her nostrils immediately, and as if recognizing a familiar command, that hot wave ran through her body, forcing a heavy breath out of her.
— Liv? You okay?
— Yeah… — she answered without even grasping the question, gently touching the rubber tool with her parted lips and immediately dragging her tongue along its entire surface. Her body reacted instantly: her nipples pulled the lace tight to the point of pain, her lower belly clenched in a sweet spasm, and between her legs everything turned hot and obscenely slick.
Olivia parted her lips a little wider and slowly, barely breathing, let the head slide inside. The silicone was cool, smooth, alien — and at the same time terrifyingly familiar. She sealed her lips tighter around it, feeling her tongue slide on its own along the underside, tracing the raised rim. Her body answered with another wave of heat: her breasts swelled even more, her nipples rubbed against the lace with every small movement, and down below everything pulsed so demandingly that her hips began to tremble on their own.
She made one more movement forward — deeper — and immediately heard her own muffled moan vibrating right against the silicone. Her right hand, which had been gripping the edge of the couch, slowly released the fabric and slid down along her tense stomach, under the waistband of her panties. Her fingers instantly met hot, swollen wetness. She didn’t even have time to be surprised by how open everything already was — her middle finger just slipped inside, easily, almost without resistance.
Click.
The sharp camera shutter sound yanked her out of the whirlpool like grabbing her by the hair.
Olivia froze — lips still wrapped around the silicone almost halfway, fingers buried deep inside, hips spread, back arched. For a moment she was a statue made of shame and adrenaline.
But then another thought hit, no less harsh:
“Fuck it. Let him shoot. Let him watch. Let the whole internet jerk off to these shots later!”
She slowly, deliberately ran her tongue along the entire length without pulling the dildo out of her mouth, and only then turned her head slightly toward Mark. Their eyes met. His camera was still raised, the shutter clicking nonstop, a smile on his face like a satisfied predator who had caught exactly the prey he came for.
— Keep going, — he said hoarsely. — Don’t stop.
Olivia didn’t answer with words. Instead she lowered her head again, taking the toy deeper — so deep her throat clenched reflexively and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. At the same time her fingers inside sped up, her thumb found her clit and started pressing in tight circles — hard, almost rough, the way she’d done it that morning when no one was watching.
Mark lowered the camera slightly.
— God, Liv… you definitely need to be in porn.
She pulled the dildo out of her mouth with a wet sound, leaving a shiny trail of saliva on it, and breathed heavily.
— One more word and I… — her voice came out low, broken; she forgot what she was going to say, like something short-circuited inside her in that moment. She just greedily took it back into her mouth, letting out a loud, drawn-out moan.