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“Bust, 44 inches. Waist, 19 inches. Hips – 39 inches.”
The QA let out an impressed whistle.
“Her height’s on track too… 4’10”, down from 5’2”,” he noted.
A week had passed, and the hormonal serum had certain taken its fullest effect.
Her breasts had ballooned from already-sizable H cups to truly remarkable M cup dimensions even as her waist shrank from an already tight 25 inches down to a supernaturally minuscule 19 measurement. The broad arc of her haunches plumped out from the stem of her tiny backside into a full proud display of womanly fertility, her generous rear-end straining against the fabric of her jean-shorts.
“Please fuck me,” she asked politely, biting her lip.
The QA knew that for such a direct plea, her internal libidinal urges must be truly intense. But the QA had 3 biodolls at home, and fornicating the merchandise was strictly against corporate policy.
“My back hurts,” she said.
“You’re gonna make someone very happy very soon.” assured the QA, patting her on the top of the head, taking care to avoid injuring himself against her horn. “Good girl.”
She smiled.