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Once You Pop, You Can’t Stop

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The Pillsbury Doughboy stood in his unbaked glory, smooth and pudgy. Wearing only his chef’s hat and his pride, he shoves the Michelin Man down onto the ground in a feral passion.

“You know your spare tire drives me mad. Today, I’m going from a boy to a man, and it’ll be all thanks to you.”

The Michelin Man whimpered as his glutinous dominator grabbed a tube of croissant dough and popped it without flinching, adding the dough to his pelvis. Slowly, he formed it into a cock, becoming animate once touching his unbaked mass. While maintaining the soft give of an unbaked loaf of bread, it still held up as it entered the Michelin Man’s rubber hole. Finding it just a bit too tight for his pastry penis, the Pillsbury Doughboy applied his favorite lubricant: toaster streusel frosting.

With every thrust, the gaps in the Michelin Man’s tires were filled with more and more of the Doughboy’s animate batter. As he lost material on his leavened length, the Doughboy cracked open another cylinder without so much as a twitch.

The Michelin man learned to love the pop, as his emptiness was filled with the soft and fluffy flesh of the Doughboy, nay, the Doughman that filled his every hole. As the weight added on and the pleasure mounted, the Michelin man found it harder to hold himself up as he was plowed harder than the fields his tires road over.

“What’s the matter, getting tired? Or is my introductory baker line of dough not good enough for even a single-“ The Doughboy slammed into his opening, “fucking… star!”

With the final exclamation, the Pillsbury Doughboy climaxed inside of his rubbery mate, filling whatever was still empty with a heavy, sugary cream filling. Satisfied, he reabsorbed his genitals into his body, leaving the Michelin Man leaking his cream from the gaps in his tires and twitching on the ground.