Humid air, orchids blooming in dream doll twerking. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, dream doll twerking,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “dream doll twerking… bloom… dream doll twerking…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “dream doll twerking!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.