This is a 18+ kink blog I run nearly entirely for my own satisfaction (and maybe a bit of yours). Majority of content here is a fantasy.
The easiest thing to call me is Ice, she/her, though I am a silly little whore who won't object to playful nicknames. I do have a master partner, though I generally won't talk about them here.
My DMs and asks are always open! Please send me degrading words and encourage me to be even more of a slut. Remember, good girls make more good girls. Sometimes I get busy with college and life so I might ghost for a week or two though! No pictures. If you send stupid stuff I might get bratty/sassy and make fun of you :^
Heads up I'm still relatively new to Tumblr so expect me to make silly formatting mistakes.
Lesser yet fun kinks: Edging, patriarchy/misogyny, pet play, objectification, praise
Do not come here with: Detrans, the usual gross body things, severe abuse/pain
To be clear, do not be an actual misogynist in real life. Much of my kinky stuff is a fantasy that, ironically, can be enjoyed because of social progress.
In addition, I am trans and have been for a while. Most women I've met have told me I'm more feminine than they are. Whatever biases you may have, please know that I have been and am living the "female experience."
There's a dynamic in bimbokink that really needs more people exploring it in bimbo fic/caps/etc.: the dominant bimbo 'tist that's too dumb to know about boundaries and assertive enough to just... bimbofy people to help them be happy like her.
There's lots of stuff about bimbos getting all submissive after cumming out all their brains, but not anywhere near enough about bimbos that take charge.
Think about it. You meet someone who's all bubbly and pink and hot and utterly stupid, and you're immediately unguarded around her. One thing leads to another and she notices you're always sad because you're always thinking about things that get you down.
And she used to think about things before she became a bimbo, and now she doesn't and she's not sad anymore.
So naturally she decides to make you happy the only way she knows how. Sure, it'll involve a lot of sex, but it also involves her gradually taking over more and more of your life. One day she's picking your outfits to be more cute. Then it's partying with her. Somewhere along the line she's giving you cool new music to listen to, and it's so catchy. After a while she's moved in, and you're not eating or drinking anything that she hasn't brought you.
Your performance at work starts to suffer, but you've never felt better about things, and when you tell your bestie she says her porn hustle has been doing well enough that she can support you if you just quit.
Months down the line, thanks to following along with her daily workout you've got thighs that can crush a watermelon and a cute toned tummy. None of your old clothes fit you anymore, but it sounds so smart when she says if you got some huge fake tits like hers you'd fit into most of her wardrobe. And since you're getting work done anyways, why not plump those lips up, enhance your cheekbones, and shrink your nose a little? And it'd be great if you could share her shoes too, so having some work done to your feet would only make sense...
All the medical papers are so confusing, but thankfully your Big Sis has been through it all before and shows you where to initial.
When you wake up, you don't even recognize yourself in the mirror. You're a total knockout. A sex doll, right down to the empty, slightly unfocused look in your eyes and the "O" shape of your lips.
Recovery takes a while, and you're at her total mercy for it. Once you're in bed at home, she cuffs you to the posts "for your own good". You're too far gone to question it. Everything Big Sis says sounds like a good idea, and she really IS doing everything for your own good.
And that's when she tells you what she's been doing like you've always known. After all, how couldn't you have known from the beginning? She's just a dumb bimbo after all. And now you're about as dumb and pretty as her. But she wants you to be the HAPPIEST bimbo you can be, so you gotta be like, totes dumber than her.
So while you're recovering from your surgery in bed, she's feeding you all your meals and bringing you all your medicine... including super doses of what she's been putting in your smoothies all along. And the hypno files she's had you listening to all along laid a lot of groundwork, now it's time to wash that brain of yours until it's all squeaky clean and every last wrinkle is ironed out into a happy smooth brain!
And it doesn't matter if you didn't want it before, but now it's all you want. You were meant to be a dumb, stupid bimbo, but not a bimbo like her. You're her bimbo pet, her sub, so obviously you've gotta be even bimboier than her!
It doesn't even have to be as extreme as that, either. Justā¦ Your Bimbo Big Sis wants you to be happy, and she knows that being a total dummy makes her super happy, and you'd be way happer if you were a bimbo too. And like, you'd toooootally be a bigger dummy than her to let her make decisions for you, right? I mean, it'd be real stupid to let her pick some hypno files for you. And if you're worried things are getting out of hand, you'd have to be a complete ditz already to trust her judgment when she says everything must be fine if it feels good...
And listening to her does feel good. Because the more you're like her, the more you go even further than she did, the better it feels, and you must be happy and doing the right thing if it feels good...
And sure, there's shame involved. I mean, of course there's shame. You were so easy to ruin even a bimbo could do it, and now you're so dumb that she thinks cats and dogs are the same species but you're the dumb one. But there's something so hot about a bimbo pulling you down to her level and then some, and not out of any desire to hurt you or degrade you or anything like that... she just wants you to be happy like she is, and doesn't know any other way to be happy except to be Just. Like. Her.
I've been meaning to do a hypnoscript for... quite some time now. In that exact style. I do have a dommy side that I don't really explore often here (aka bimbofying others, not being bimbofied)
Are there people there who would be interested in me making this?
Study Sesh. Your calculus textbook is the only solid thing in a room quickly dissolving into a haze of vanilla-scented vape clouds and the low, conspiratorial hum of girlish laughter. You came here to study. That was the promise, whispered over the phone by your friend with cherry stained lips. "Just a chill study sesh, seriously. We all have finals."
But the textbooks lie closed on the rug, while your "study partners" sprawl across the bed in a constellation of soft limbs and shimmering fabric, a tangle of pink and black lace. They're your friends, or at least you tell yourself they are. Yet sometimes, when their perfectly made-up eyes rest on you, they gleam with a pitying wonder, as if you were a rare, flightless bird they canāt believe still exists.
"Youāre, like, actually trying to read," the blue eyed one giggles, propping herself up on her elbows. Her silk camisole slips down her shoulder, revealing the swell of a breast adorned with a tiny silver piercing that twinkles in the fairy-light glow.
You clutch the textbook tighter. "I have to. Professor B is brutal!"
The one with cherry lips, the one who invited you, crawls across the bed, a predator in her own territory. She settles behind you, her warmth seeping through your thick gray university hoodie. Her voice against your ear is intimate and sweet. "Babe. Nobodyās thinking about professors right now."
A chorus of soft "mhmmms" ripples from the bed.
Her fingers find the edge of your book. Almost gently, she pries it from your grasp, one finger at a time, and sets it aside with a muffled thud. "No more thinking," she whispers. The words are a command wrapped in silk. "Thinking just makes wrinkles."
The third one, with hair dyed bubblegum pink, wiggles up to your side. "And itās soĀ boring." She pokes your cheek. "Youāre way too pretty to be boring."
You want to protest. You want to say that you arenāt boring, that you have thoughts, ambitions, a five-year plan. But the words feel like stones in your throat. Their collective presence is a thick and intoxicating atmosphere. It presses in, making it hard to breathe, harder still to think. They smell of sugar.
"Letās get you comfy," Cherry Lips says, her hands moving from the book to the strings of your hoodie. She tugs, and the knot loosens. "Iām fine," you manage, but your voice is a thin, reedy thing.
"Shhh." The sound is a universal balm. Her fingers dip beneath the collar of your shirt, her nails, filed to perfect ovals, just barely grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Youāre so tense. you really need to relax."
Blue Eyes is in front of you now, kneeling. Her smile are wide, sincere, almost doll-like. "We just wanna make you feel good. Itās more fun when we all feel good together."
You canāt answer. You can only watch as her hands move to the hem of your hoodie. They are a team, a well-oiled machine of seduction. As Blue Eyes lifts the hoodie, Cherry Lips helps guide your arms out, her fingers brushing against your own. The air in the room is hot and cold all at once as they take in your bare arms and stomach. Youāre left in your plain, cotton bra, feeling exposed and pale next to them.
"See? So much better!" Pink Hair chirps, her eyes roaming over you. "Oh my god, your skin is perfect. So soft!" She proves her point by running the back of her hand down your arm.
They press in closer, a cocoon of warmth and sweetness. You are the still point in their swirling universe. Cherry Lips begins to play with your hair, undoing the tight bun youād scraped it into for studying. The elastic snaps free, and your hair tumbles down. She combs her fingers through it, her touch slow and possessive. "So pretty," she murmurs, the words a hypnotic chant. "You're so pretty."
Blue Eyes' gaze drops to your bra. "That thing has got to go. Itās, like, suffocating you." Before you can form an objection, her nimble fingers are at your back, finding the clasp. There is a softĀ clickĀ of release. The straps go slack, and the fabric loosens. You instinctively cross your arms over your chest, but it's pointless.
"Donāt hide," Pink Hair scolds gently, her voice losing its bubbly edge for a fraction of a second, flashing a hint of possessiveness. She reaches out and gently, but inexorably, pulls your arms away, holding your wrists. "Weāre all girls here. And we think youāre perfect."
They look at you, at your pale, bare breasts, the nipples tight and dark from the chill and the fear and something else, something you refuse to acknowledge. Cherry Lips leans in, her own breasts, unbound beneath her shirt, pressing against your back. Her breath is hot on your neck. "Your body knows!" she whispers, a secret just for you. "Itās not scared. Itās excited. It just needs permission to stop thinking so hard."
Blue Eyes leans forward, her long, pale hair tickling your knees. Her tongue, wet and warm, swipes a glistening trail from the base of your throat up to your chin. You gasp, a sharp, ragged sound, and try to pull back, but Pink Hairās grip on your wrists tightens just enough to hold you in place.
"Good girl," Blue Eyes hums against your skin. Her lips find yours, a soft, searching pressure. Itās a test, seeing where you're at, and you pass. Kissing her back. Just a little bit. When she pulls away, a thread of saliva connects you for a moment before snapping.
"She tastes sweet," she announces to the others, a triumphant smile on her face. "Like sheās been waiting."
And then they're on you, a flurry of soft hands and wet mouths. Itās a coordinated assault on your senses, designed to dismantle your reason piece by piece. Pink Hair releases your wrists only to trail her sharp nails down your ribs, so lightly it feels like electricity, making you twitch and squirm. Cherry Lipsā hands are on your breasts, cupping them, her thumbs circling your nipples with an agonizing slowness that makes your stomach clench. Blue Eyes has moved lower, her hands unbuttoning your jeans.
Cherry Lips murmurs in your ear again, her voice a silken command. "Feel how good this is. How goodĀ weĀ are."
Her mouth closes over one nipple. The suction is a shock, a pulling pleasure so intense itās almost pain. You cry out, a small, wounded sound, and your head lolls back against her shoulder. At the same moment, Blue Eyes' fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties, finding the damp heat youād been trying to deny.
"Oh, sheās so ready for us," Blue Eyes breathes, her voice filled with a genuine, delighted awe. "Sheās such a good girl. So wet."
The words ā good girl ā should feel demeaning. Instead, they land in your mind like sparks on dry tinder. A wave of heat floods you, a deep, shameful blush that starts in your chest and spreads everywhere. You want to be a good girl for them. The realization is a crack in the dam of your resolve.
Pink Hair giggles, a bright, tinkling sound that seems to come from very far away. Sheās licking a stripe up the inside of your thigh. "Sheās melting. Look at her melt for us."
You are. Youāre dissolving. The hard lines of your identity ā student, thinker, planner ā are blurring, losing their shape under the relentless, lapping tide of their attention. There is no calculus, no Professor B, no five-year plan. There is only the hot mouth on your breast, the tongue on your thigh, and the two fingers that now slide inside you, stretching you, filling you with a slick, insistent pressure.
"Thatās it," Blue Eyes whispers, her face buried in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Just let go. Let your brain get all fuzzy and pink. Itās better this way. So much easier."
Fuzzy and pink.Ā The words are an incantation. You try to grasp a thought, any thought, but it slips away like sand through your fingers. All that remains is the rhythm they create. The suckling at your breast, the stroking inside you, the teasing licks that promise more. They move together, a single entity with one goal: to break you. To remake you.
Your hips begin to move of their own accord, a small, rocking motion against Blue Eyes' hand. Youāre chasing the feeling, the building pressure. A low moan escapes your lips, unbidden. It doesnāt sound like you. It sounds mindless, needy. It sounds likeĀ them.
The sound makes them escalate. Cherry Lipsā mouth becomes more demanding. Pink Hairās tongue finds your clit, a direct, shocking jolt of pure pleasure that makes your whole body arch. Blue Eyes fingers curl inside you, pressing against that deep, secret spot that youāve only ever found by accident.
"Yes," they all seem to sigh at once. "Good girl."
Your orgasm tears through you, a raw, keening wave that wipes your mind clean. Your thoughts donāt just get fuzzy; they're replaced by blinding, pulsing white light. Your body shudders, held and caressed and licked and praised through every aftershock.
In the aftermath, you lie limp, draped across them. They hold you, stroking your hair, murmuring sweet nothings. The air is thick with the scent of your release, mingled with their perfume. Itās the smell of your corruption.
"See?" Cherry Lips whispers, kissing your temple. "Wasnāt that so much better than studying?"
You can only nod, your mind a placid, shimmering pool.
Later, when you can move again, they dress you. Not in your own clothes, which lie in a discarded heap of gray and denim, but in theirs. Blue Eyes produces a tiny pink chemise, all lace and ribbons. It feels impossibly soft against your sensitized skin. Pink Hair finds a pair of matching panties, so thin theyāre barely there.
They lead you to the full-length mirror on the closet door. The girl staring back isnāt you. Not you from a few hours ago. This girl is flushed, her lips swollen and dark, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. Her eyes are wide and dazed.
You look at this new girl, this siren of blush and wantonness, and you canāt connect her to the person who walked in here with a backpack full of anxieties and a color-coded study schedule
A thought tries to form, a protest, a question ā What have they done to me? ā but it dissolves before it can take shape, like a snowflake on a warm tongue. All thatās left is a simple, dumb observation.
Pretty.
"See?" Pink Hair whispers, her chin resting on your shoulder as she gazes at your shared reflection. "We told you. This is who you were meant to be."
"So much better than all thoseā¦ numbers," Blue Eyes says, almost disgusted by that final word. She straightens a tiny pink ribbon on the chemise. "Youāre not a calculator, babe. Youāre a doll."
A doll. The word lands and sticks. Dolls donāt have to think. Dolls are made to be played with, to be dressed up and admired. The pressure youāve carried for years ā to achieve, to succeed, to be smart ā it all justā¦ evaporates. It was a heavy coat you didnāt even know you were wearing, and theyāve taken it off for you.
You reach up a trembling hand and touch your own cheek in the mirror. Your skin is hot. Your eyes are someone elseās. Someone fun. Someone free.
"She likes it," Cherry Lips says, a smug, satisfied smile playing on her perfect mouth. She steps back and appraises you, then gestures back toward the bed, which now looks less like a study space and more like an altar. "Welcome to the club, pretty girl."
They laugh, a sound like sparkling wine, a sound that pulls you along with them. You move without thinking, your limbs feeling light and obedient. They pull you into the center of the bed, into the warm, scented nest of their bodies. You are no longer the outsider. You are the centerpiece. Pink Hair picks up your abandoned textbook from the floor. She fans her flushed face with it. "O.M.G, this is so heavy. Imagine carrying this around in your brain all day."
They all giggle, and you giggle with them. Itās a foreign sound from your own throat, airy and thoughtless. The weight of the book seems ridiculous now. So does the weight of everything you used to care about. Your eyes drift closed. There are no formulas left in your head, no deadlines, no anxieties. There is only the soft touch of their hands, the sweet scent of their skin, and a single, looping, happy thought.
Locked away. You never bought into all that hypnosis stuff. You thought it was just stage magicians and weirdos with pocket watches. Then you met him, and yeah, okay, maybe you were wrong. It started innocent enough, just little tricks to melt the dayās stress away after work. His voice was smooth, and it would sink into your head, and suddenly your shoulders werenāt so tight, your brain wasnāt buzzing with deadlines. But youāre not dumb ā well, not yet ā and you noticed how it started creeping into the bedroom. First, it was just sexy little suggestions, like how wet youād get when he whispered your name. Then it got deeper, wilder, and before you know it, you were hooked.
His latest game? The "thought locker." Thatās what he calls it, anyway. Says itās to keep you from getting weighed down by life's obligations. You know, bills, errands, all that noise. He guides you down, tells you to picture the smart parts of you, the bits that overthink and worry, all getting shoved into a shiny little box in the back of your head. Click goes the lock, and poof, theyāre gone. Youāre left feeling all floaty and giggly, like your brainās just a big, bouncy bubble of horny. The catch? That box doesnāt open until Master cums. His rules, his game. And lately, heās been playing dirty.
Itās been days. Maybe three? Youāre losing track because counting is getting fuzzy, and Master hasnāt cum yet. Heās edging you both, but itās hitting you harder. Every time he holds back, that locker stays shut, and your head gets emptier. Your thoughts arenāt about work anymore. Theyāre about his cock, his hands, the way his breath feels against your neck. Youāre turning into this needy, wiggly little mess. Youāre starting to talk in this high pitched, bubbly squeak, all āpretty please, Masterā and āIāll be so good!ā Itās humiliating, but that just makes you wetter. Even so, some responsible parts of you are still floating around in that empty head, frantic to make him cum so you can snap back to normal. After all, you donāt want to be this drooly mess forever, right?
Yesterday, you tried the subtle route (well, subtle for you at least). Slipped into this tiny pink thong and a crop top that barely counts as clothes, bouncing around the apartment like some slutty schoolgirl. You āaccidentallyā dropped stuff in front of him, bending over slow, ass up, giggling like an idiot. He just smirked, adjusted himself, and kept scrolling on his phone. Didnāt even touch you. Asshole. So today, youāre desperate. Youāre on your knees by the couch, nuzzling his thigh, pawing at his jeans like a kitten in heat. āMaster, pleeeease,ā you whine, lips pouty, eyes big and glassy. āI need it so bad, Iāll do anything!ā Your voice is all sugar now, dripping with slutty little trills. Youāre not even sure what āitā is anymore ā his cock, his cum, your brain, whatever ā just something.
He looks down at you, āanything, huh?ā he says, unzipping just enough to tease you. Youāre drooling already, practically humping the air, your hands fumbling to get closer. Youāre not thinking straight, honestly, youāre barely thinking at all. The lockerās got everything sharp and sensible locked tight, and whatās left is this horny, ditzy puddle of a girl whoād do anything for a taste. You start licking at him through his jeans, sloppy and eager, moaning like itās the best thing youāve ever had. āMmm, so yummy, Master!ā you chirp, and you mean it. Your brain is too fizzed out to care how pathetic you sound.
But heās still holding back. He grabs your hair, pulls you off just as youāre getting into it, and laughs. āNot yet, princess. I like you like this.ā And oh god, that stings so good. Youāre leaking through your panties now, thighs sticky, and you can feel yourself slipping further. Words are getting harder. Big ones like ācon-se-quence-esā or ādig-ni-tyā aren't worth the effort. Too many syllables. All thatās left is ācockā and āpleaseā and ānow.ā Youāre grinding against his leg, babbling nonsense, āMasterās so mean, so hot, need need needā and heās just watching, letting you come undone.
You climb onto his lap, straddling him, your skirt flipped up so he can see how soaked you are. āLook, Master, Iām all drippy for you!ā you plead, wiggling your hips, trying to grind down on him. Your hands are everywhere. On his chest, his hair, clawing at his belt like a dumb little pet. You know you'll burst if he doesnāt give in soon. But he grabs your wrists, pins them behind you, and leans in close. āYouāre not getting it yet,ā he whispers, and you whimper, because you can feel him hard against you, but heās still not letting go. It's been days of this, and youāre a wreck.
A few more days go by, and you catch yourself in the mirror ā flushed cheeks and dazed eyes, drool on your chin, and you love it. Maybe it's better to just be a giggling, cock drunk doll, humping his leg forever. To keep pushing, keep teasing, keep begging, but never having. Maybe thatās all your bubbly little brain knows how to do now. āMaster, pleaseeee, cum for me, Iāll be good, Iāll - Iāll -ā You donāt even finish the sentence. Too dumb, too desperate, too gone.
Okay kinda serious post bc I'm just rly frustrated abt this, skip ahead if you'd rather not read all this:
Some of these larger creators in the hypno community gotta stop using so much ai it's so disparaging. I just wanna get brainwashed and dropped, not be constantly reminded of how the technocrats and fascists of our day are sucking up nations worth of water and profiting off the largest mass plagiarism of artists across all genre or medium in history. If you use it to make content for yourself or others you're misguided or misinformed at best, as a fellow hypnosis fan, please reconsider. I'm such a chronic hornyposter on here and even I am frustrated enough to break my streak of subby whining on this blog to say this. I'm so sad bc I'll hear a file or see an artwork and learn or realize it's ai and it just takes me out of trance or immersion immediately. Please just hire/commission a REAL HUMAN voice actor for a file, or artist for your illustration, or learn to do either for yourself, it will be infinitely better, more personable, frankly effective, and the creators you support desperately need it. In using AI instead of building your own skills, you rob yourself of the challenges of creativity which might be frustrating yes, but beget the innovation and adaptability that makes human artists so powerful and great. You steal opportunities from innumerable people and destroy our tangible world, for the sake of instant gratification and over reliance on a multi-billion dollar company/product that would likely ban you if it realized what your prompts were cobbling together. Doing so at the cost of real tangible communities and ecosystems. Hypnokinksters like us are as much the victims of ai as any other group which is vulnerable to the powerful or the conservative zeitgeist, so many of us are trans, queer, or at the very least sex positive enough to enjoy and cohabitate this hobby and kink lifestyle together. BIG AI COMPANIES WOULD TURN A BLIND EYE TO OUR TARGETING AND PAIN. How many of our creators have been cannibalized into the AI slop we are now forced to see all the time on our dashes? we should not use the tools of our enemies/oppressors to express ourselves, hypnosis which uses AI is just empty roleplay, it is the personability of our human vulnerabilities which make hypnosis so intimate and effective. A Frankenstein's monster of art and data will never experience the satisfaction and love towards the subject, that a breathing thoughtful 'tist would, I do not trust the billionaire machine with my mind, my suggestibility, my emotional vulnerability. no buts about it, techbros get bent.
This work originates from the publication of Prof. Lawsonās paper Breast Size and Cognitive Ability last month (Lawson, Breast Size and Cognitive Ability, Northwestern Journal of Science, 2025) and the ensuing discourse it has elicited both in the scientific community and society at large. Not only do we find it socially and politically harmful, but either intellectually dishonest or frankly substandard in both reasoning and the basic principles of experimental science.
Prof. Lawson posits that breast size in females is negatively correlated with academic ability and general I.Q. As this work will show, not only is Lawsonās methodology ruefully unsound, but his conclusions are so implausible one can only assume that, by his own logic, Professor Lawson must himself possess an impressive set of mammaries to believe such scholarship deserves serious consideration.
It is the objective of this paper to, entertaining such ludicrous premises, empirically disprove Prof. Lawsonās thesis on its own terms and hopefully set the matter to rest permanently.
Methodology
A research team comprised of four highly accomplished female experts (see Appendix A: Team Background and Initial Cognitive Tests), including the author, will take it upon ourselves to test Dr. Lawsonās hypothesis in a controlled, verifiable and reproducible basis. Having established a baseline for cognitive ability, we must consider the second element of Dr. Lawsonās proposed correlation; as weāre sure heāll lament (given his manifest interests) all members of the team possess what can commonly be referred to as a modest chest size (see Fig.1: Teamās Initial Measurements).
In order to modify this factor gradually, we will be using Dr. Joannaās Marsh experimental Focused Hormone Enhancement System, or FHES, which has shown remarkable results, even in its early stages of development (see Marsh, FHES Preliminary Observations, Oberlin, 2024).
Weekly breast measurements, as well as tests on cognitive ability, will be performed to track any changes in the research team, or most likely, lack thereof (at least in the intellectual side of Lawsonās correlation). Additionally, this author will provide any observations and comments that might be relevant to the purview of this paper.Ā
Observations: One Week Under the Effects of FHES
Initial results show that the effectiveness of Dr. Marshās compound not only meets the expectations established in her paper but, in the present use case, surpasses them (see Fig.2: Teamās Measurements, Week 1). All four team members have been forced to acquire new brassieres to work comfortably.Ā
A common reported side effect among the team is a degree of difficulty maintaining focus on complex tasks for even moderate periods of time- what is referred to as ābrain fogā in common parlance. While not debilitating, this phenomenon has increased the difficulty inherent in writing a clear, concise overview. It does not, however, seem to be accompanied by physical exhaustion- activities which require movement have not been reported by the team as feeling more taxing.
We attribute this ābrain fogā to the adaptation to the new hormonal load, and we expect it to subside soon. This also explains the slight decrease in the result of the teamās cognitive tests (see Appendix B: Cognitive Tests, Week 1).
Of additional note is that the team has experienced a slight but constant emission of clear, vaginal fluid. Testing shows it to be harmless and indeed to be the kind of fluid generated for lubrication normally during intercourse or arousal in general. We believe this to also be merely a temporary hormonal adjustment, but will keep monitoring it in the following weeks.
Ā Ā Ā Observations: Two Weeks Under the Effects of FHES
The effectiveness of FHES continues to astho asst surprise the team. Our tits breasts have expanded massively (See Fig 2: Team Measurements, Week 2), to the point that our standard lab uniforms no longer fit our curvy bodies and feel too tight and not in a cute way. To remedy this, the team was forced to go out and purchase new, more fitting and fashionable clothes (See Fig 3: Team Dressing Room Selfies). Obviously, new make-up was also necessary to match the vibe of the new fits, especially the goth-style gram garnm clothes chosen by April which just called out for some striking black eyeliner and a lighter shade of base. We collectively observed that the combination of her new clothes and make-up work really, really well on her: itās giving bratty sub, as can be confirmed (See Fig. 4: Aprilās Selfies and Cute Pics Taken By Mia).
The Brain Fog is still there, probably because of the hormones and all other stuff, but the team reports it to be a pleasant sensation. While it makes writing these reports hard, itās not really bad- more like floating in a pink, fluffy cloud. Prof. Lawsonās idea that tit size makes women dumber is still unproven, as the Pink (thatās what we have taken to calling the Brain Fog) is for sure the result of the treatment, not an effect of increased chest size. There are plenty of smart women with big boobs, after all, and I know for a fact Dr. Lawson has watched their videos on several adult sites. These womenās success in such a competitive industry is surely proof of their intelligence.
The constant most moiz wetness appears to have caused a few incidents among the team, since it now also involves an increased sensitivity and level of arousal. The distraction of feeling oneās pussy so needy all the time explains the lower test results this week (See Appendix C: Cognitive Tests, Week 2), as well as some notable events that took place this week.
It would be unprofessional to omit those events in this observation, so Iāll recount them as accurately as I possibly can. On Tuesday, before we went shopping, I walked into the Substance Storage Unit and encountered April and Sophia looking at a tablet. While I couldnāt see the screen, the video playing was at full volume, and I could make out the sound of a slut woman gurgling and choking on what, I can only assume, was a truly large cock penis. My teammates had both removed their (ugly) uniform pants, and unbuttoned their shirts (as mentioned, they had by this point become very uncomfortable, so thatās understandable). They were engaging in mutual masd mutul mmmmm fingering each other, drooling and moaning like stupid cunts in a way that showed their excitement. They shouted encouragement at the performer on the screen, which I feel demonstrates a high capacity to focus on engaging tasks; their choice of phrases (ātake it deep you stupid bitchā, āfucking choke in it you dumb cowā, āuse her fucking throat as a fleshlight!ā) also proves their creativity. Witnessing this event produced a very strong effect on myself, but I managed to sneak into the bathroom before shoving my fingers inside my soaked pussy thus obtaining temporary relief.
Fuck. Okay, rubbing break over. Time to go back to writing.
A second incident took place on Friday. By then we had acquired new wardrobes, and the act of dancing, strutting and showing each other our new looks might have affected some team members in an unexpected manner. While we all identify as heterosexual, seeing our colleaguesā tight fucking bodies and huge, firm funbags aesthetic choices proved to be a stimulating experience. My recollection of events remains fuzzy, but Iām pretty sure I made out with April and at some point Hannah poured beer over Aprilās tits and I lapped it up and then sucked on her nipples while I rubbed myself silly and Sophia was filming on her phone so we both put on a show and Iām pretty sure she sent the video so someone but i donāt care encounters of an erotic nature may have taken place.
As each team member has clearly settled on a particular preference regarding their appearance, we have ordered more clothes and toys for the experiment.
We are confident that once our amazing bodies have adapted to the hormone treatment, such incidents will not reoccur.Ā
NOTE TO SELF: MIA, REMEMBER TO ERASE THE STRICKEN PARTS BEFORE UPLOADING UPDATE!!!
Ā Observations: Two Weeks Three Weeeks Under the Effects of FHES
So I have to write this to keep you updated because itās my job and Iām a professional and stuff so ehre it goes. We had like massive tits before but now they are so huge and sensitibe and spectacular and they feel kind of like giant clits so I guess the copm compoud the thing we take to make them grow is also making them feel super good! We tried to take measurements but the tape rubbing against out funbags feels too good and we get distracted and we have to take care of that so we figured weād just send you some nudes so you can see how much our stupid bimbo tits have expanded (see sexy pics attached) because we are not dumb and pics are better than illustrated numbers anyway. We got a bit carried away with the pics but I hope youāll enjoy them! In like, a scientific way. Duh.
Reading back I guess I was keeping track of the Pink? I think? Itās hard to understand what I wrote before. So like, the Pink. Itās kinda hard to explain but it feels so fucking good, like weāre all so happy and floating and horny all the time and nothing feels super important anymore except doing whatever feels good at the moment, with whoever or whatever is around. We stopped storing the toys because having them all over the lab is super useful to play with one another or to just bounce on a big dildo looking at the tasty porn on the screens.
Oh shit I forgot to explain the porn thing! So like, we noticed that we can focus on porn a lot better than on boring lab stuff and weāre trying to demn demos prove big boobs donāt make sluts dumb so having porn blasting in every screen means we have something to keep us concentrated and so weāre not dumb because we can keep our attention on stuff. And we can like, really really watch porn. Itās likeā¦ weāre not just watching it with our eyes, weāre taking it in with our entire bodies and the Pink makes it so much better because itās like the porn gets inside us and makes us better and we feel so, so good!
And another thing that proves we may be stupid cunts but weāre not dumb is that we learn really, really fast. We just left the pron running and the site kept showing us video after video after video and we all learned different things and we could put it in practice instantly! Like, April has gotten really into her new goth mommy thing and we saw a video and a girl in it was spanking another girl with a leather paddle and it was super hot but we didnāt have paddles (we ordered them, they should arrive today! Yay!) so April took a clipboard and made Sophia put her hands on the wall and April went to town on her cute bubble butt and it got so red and the rest of us watched and rubbed and drooled and Sophia came from being spanked! Sheās becoming such a good slut. She really likes putting her hair in pigtails and wearing like, a sort of schoolgirl uniform with a microskirt and chewing gum and acting like a dumb whore around the lab and it kinda makes all of us want to do bad things to her. We saw a few videos where the cunt was sort of taken by force and Sophia loved them so now she keeps calling herself āgood rapebaitā and teasing us so weāll be mean to her and fuck her with a toy or a strap. She cums so fast and screams what a rapedoll she is and begs to be used and abused forever! Itās super hot, so we are almost constantly shoving toys and fingers in her like, really hard.
Also, we have amazing stamina now! I canāt remember when I last slept. My desperate pussy needs me to take care of it all the time.
Weāre using the computer labs to show off online, because the porn showed us that all good girls expose their slutty bodies. Weāre sad that the webcams donāt look as good as the porn but weāve ordered new cameras and like, some lights to make every inch of us look amazing. And the people we talk to on random sites are so helpful! They have ideas we never could imagine, and itās so much easier to just do what they tell us to do and we learn so much doing it! Last night me and Emily spent like an hour just drooling and making out and rubbing each otherās tits in front of the camera because a nice Man told us to and it felt amazing to know he was jerking off his fat cock to us! We didnāt know just obeying Men made cunts feel useful but some Men told us and we did it and they were right! I think it was when April and I were going ass to ass with a double dildo because a Man told us to that I realized how amazing it is not having to choose and just drift in the Pink and be good sluts.
Sometimes they tell us to do hard things, like writing on each otherās bodies. Because our tits are so huge we have a lot of room to put tasty words in, but figuring out the spelling while we rub and lick each other is very, very hard! I can still spell kinda good, but Sophia couldnāt even spell ācumslaveā right, so I had to write on Emily even though Sophia was supposed to and I got too excited and fuzzy and maybe some of the videos put thoughts in my head because I ended writing stuff like āmindless fuckdollā and ābrains are for boysā and ābitch in heatā on her instead of just ācumslaveā, but the Men online liked that and told me to make myself cum as a reward and I didnāt know Men could just tell girls to cum but when they told me to cum I barely had to rub my cunt before I had like, the best orgasm. Maybe getting permission to cum always feels better? We should do a study on that after this one is done.
Itās funny how much Emily loves to have filthy words written on her body. She always was super shy and sheās so slutty now but she sstill gets all red and flustered and some men like that because itās clear she likes to be a silly cunt but also she tries not to show it and so having someone writing on her lets her pretend sheās not thinking all those words even though like, we all totally know sheās thinking them and also when she wears a cute little mask she is shameless and so fucking desperate itās like the mask lets her be her true self. Thatās another thign we could study!
Speaking of studies, we kinda didnāt have time to take the test this week but Iām sure we would have aced it for sure. I have to send something in that section of this stupid form so Iām attaching a video of all of us training our throats with dildos, because it shows we can still do tasks so we arenāt dumb.Ā
Ugh, writing is so boring and I can hear Sophia being fucked behind me and I really want to make her eat me out while another girl makes her ass gape.Ā
We ordered more clothes and toys because Men deserve choices and we want to be able to be any kind of slut a Man could want. I guess Iāll write more next week.
Ā Ā Ā
obdertations weak for
i have to write i dont want to write this is so boring my head is to fuzzy and fuuuuck april is licking my pussy under the desk but i dont want to cum because good girls dont cum without permission and no Man told me i could cum but i want to cum so badly but also i dont want to cum because being edged makes me better makes me wetter makes me obey i want to obey i want to be a stupid cumrag forever and ever and get tasty cummies and my tits need to be covered so i can be super pretty
My stupid cow udders are so huge now one load cant cover them i need to be surrounded by cocks and make all of them cum just so i can feel that warm jizz all over them and i know because we tried it we gave the nice Men online the address to the lab and they came hihihi came and came came all over us and inside us and even three cocks cumming on my boobs isnt enough and also sometimes they aim to high and it lands on my face and that feels so amazing and tastes so fucking good but i like it on my sensitive bimbo tits better because theyre like my pussy and they always need more and more and more and there are never enough cocks around to share and we try to be good girls and serve together but we get greedy and end up fighting for the honor of wrosph worp woshi whoreshiping cocks but the Men help us and tell us what to do and whos turn it is and they even gave us a fun way to fight for cock and we have rubbing competitions where we dance and rub and tease and say so many filthy things anf the one that proves shes the more depraved slut gets the cum and i wish i was better because i want to win every time but sometimes another fucking cunt wins and i have to wait
pffff last night sophia did her hole pretending to be innocent thing and called the men daddy and said she would be the bestest girl for them and smiled and flirted and made it seem like she didnt know her skirt was riding up and she had no panties and they used her so much i only got like three loads on my tits and i had to get more Men to come into the lab because its sooo not fair that she got used in all her holes by like, ten guys and i only got three cocks in my tight asshole but in the end more Men came and i really slutted it up and called myself a piece of worthless fuckmeat and a mindless obedient set of holes with huge tits and explained to the Men why girls need to obey and be happy and how fenminism is boring and maybe us girls would be better off without rights and they liked that and they really liked it when they found out i have a PHD an stuff so in the end i got used lots so I was useful and it was a good night
Clothes are all over the floor and the desks but we need more because there are so many ways to be a cute slut and we want to please everyone and become anything they want us to be and do anything they want us to do and i tried ordering more clothes but i got confused but a Man ordered for us so they should be arriving soon and fuck we cant stop rubbing and licking each other imagining all the sexy stuff weāll get to wear and also the new camera is so good and we look just like the girls in porn and i guess we are pron now because we keep filming or letting Men film us and they upload everything and people like it lots and i think about everyone jerking off to us and its the best feeling in the world knowing i dont have to be there to make a cock cum, i can be useful forever because the videos will always be around fuuuuuck i almost came April got sooo good at eating pussy but i donāt want to cum i really want to cum iĀ
I dont remeber how to ttach stuff but ill get a Man to put the best videos on the file so yall can see what good girls we are now and maybe you can cum to us please cum to us please rub your pussies and play with your cocks looking at us we want to make you happy and horny like we are i wish everyone could feel the Pink its so good and fuzzy and warm and makes people giggle and fuck nd be so happy maybe everyone should take what we take and grow big boobs and sink into the Pink I wonder if men get huge cocks from it that woud be amazing like giant cocks that cum buckets fuccccccc i dont wanna{pĀ“.k
Fuck i came so hard but im still so fucking horny itās never enough i need more i need to please i exist to please obeying makes me feel so good an cum makes me so pretty and i dont remember how i lived before because this feels like its who ive always been like its just right and natural and good but i started writin for a reason and i canāt figure out what it was i have to tell April to stop eating me out and find out what im supposed to riteĀ
Oh, duh! A Man said big boobs make girls dumb. And thatās a dumb thing to believe. But I have massive tits and Iām dumb so I guess I believe him because dumb feels good so Iāll believe any dumb thing a Man tells me!
EDITORāS NOTE: This document is being published without edits or corrections at the request of Prof. Lawson. Given that the express intent of this āpaperā is to disprove his theories, we felt it fair to show the resulting work unaltered.
Prof. Mia West has retired from Academia. She and her team seem determined to continue in the adult industry. The Northwestern Journal of Science has reached out to Prof. West, who requested readers to ālog into the sites and cum yourselves silly to our stupid bimbo bodiesā.
As far as we can ascertain, every one of the mentioned videos is available for free. It is unknown who obtains the ad revenue or funds the team; however, given the noticeable increase in production value in newer installments, as well as the establishment of what has been christened the āSlut Houseā to film, we must assume someone is managing the teamās career.
On an unrelated note, weāre delighted to announce Prof. Lawsonās new seminar, āVideo Production, Marketing and Monetization in the Digital Ageā, to take place this Fall.Ā Ā
Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu
Thereās an implicit understanding around the idea of a bimbo that it is an easy thing to be. A bimbo doesnāt have to worry about very much, certainly not thinking. They are free to bounce, bubbly, brainless, and spend their energy focusing on the more fun things: sex, for instance.
Bounce.
I respectfully disagree. Thoughts can be very pesky things, and ridding yourself of them isnāt always a simple task. Many bimbos subscribe to the philosophy wherein the process of bimbofication involves having their brains removed, their intelligence compromised, their thoughts turned to bubbles to float away into the ether.
Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.
Which isnāt to say thereās anything wrong with that, of course. But a bimbo doesnāt necessarily need to be absolutely brainless, nor even to have their intelligence drained at allā¦and certainly not permanently. Part of the appeal is often in the transient nature of the transformation.
For now, weāll focus on the brainless sort of bimbo. Perhaps later we can explore the alternatives.
Bimbos bounce their brains away.
After all, there is something to be said for allowing your thoughts to become bubbles, creating that light and airy feeling in your head. It is, I suspect, a little easier to feel like a bimbo when those thought-bubbles begin floating and bouncing around in your head, and especially once they begin to pop.
Brainwashed bimbos must obey.
But what happens when your thought-bubbles are being stubborn, when they donāt behave like the slick and oily bubbles that pop so simply? There are a few options. First, letās consider another kind of bubble: bubble wrap.
You know what I mean, Iām sure. Youāve felt the enjoyment of popping that plastic packaging to release the air sealed inside. Youāve also found that some bubbles are easier to pop than others ā sometimes you can roll the wrap along your fingers and appreciate the sound of so many rhythmic pops, but other times you have to apply some additional pressure before you receive that anticipated reward.
Bubbly brains are bound to burst.
Some of the bubbles can be downright frustrating, I know. The reward for normal bubble wrap is that giggly, somewhat silly, glee; itās a lot of fun, and downright cathartic. But for your thoughts? The reward is becoming a brainless bimbo, and feeling the combined physical pleasure and mental relief when the thoughts pop and escape, leaving that wet, pink lust behind.
Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.
Itās a very compelling reward, isnāt it? Youād happily apply as much pressure as it takes to pop those thought-bubbles, but perhaps you arenāt quite sure how. Thereās a line here about how that might mean youāre already more brainless than you expect, but weāll skip that for now. Instead, consider the source of the pressure.
Bimbos bounce their brains away,
Brainless bimbos must obey.
Pressure around your thought-bubbles can come from the simple act of bouncing, of course. It can come from my words flowing steadily into your mind, perhaps repeating like an echo that escalates until the pop. In the first case, youāll simply bounce a little harder; in the second, repeat my words either aloud or in your head to ramp up the pressure. But those arenāt the only methods.
Bubbly brains are bound to burst,
Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.
You see, we can also soften the surface of the thought-bubbles. You want to be a bimbo, after all, or you wouldnāt be here ā you certainly wouldnāt have made it this far into a script designed to make you a bimbo. But I expect itās more than casual want. You find the idea of becoming a brainless obedient bimbo arousing. It turns out that arousal softens bubblesā¦donāt take my word for it, though, let your focus shift to the intensity of that arousal, and feel the way the resistance inside your thought-bubble changes, as if the pressure is suddenly coming from both sides.
Bimbos bounce their brains away,
Brainwashed bimbos must obey.
Now there are three methods to ramp up the pressure on that stubborn thought-bubble of yours: bounce a bit harder, repeat my words to yourself, and focus on how aroused being bimbofied makes you. The bubble-wrap doesnāt stand a chance, especially when you recall how intensely rewarding that pop is going to be. Raw pink pleasure drenching your suddenly vacant head, freeing you to be the giggly, bouncy, brainless bimbo you want to be.
Bubbly brains are bound to burst,
Bursting bubbly brains blow pink.
Brainwashed bimbos bounce blankly.
Blank brainless bimbos bounce.
As rewarding as the pop will be, wouldnāt it be better to feel that over and over again? Of course it would. Thereās a less common method of making bubbles easier to pop that weāve just unlocked ā making a single, large bubble into a bunch of much smaller ones. Even if youāve already popped the thought-bubble, itās surprisingly straightforward to imagine any remaining thoughts, brains, or some part of your body covered in bubble wrap.
Bimbos bounce their brains away,
Brainless bimbos must obey.
Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,
Bursting bubbles blow pink.
Lots of tiny bubbles are much easier to pop, as you know, which means all youāve got to do is pick your favorite method: bouncing, repeating my words, or feeding your arousal. Then the fun can really beginā¦you get to bounce, chant the bimbo mantra, or touch yourself, and enjoy the immensely satisfying sensation of all of those pesky thought-bubbles popping in rapid succession.
Iād tell you not to worry about the implications of being bound by bubble wrap, or the inherent silliness of the concept ā but we both know youāre already past that, or giggling about it while you obey. So instead, give in to your chosen bubble popping method.
Bounce whichever way you find feels the best, repeat my words again and again, or bring yourself to a bubbly pink bimbo orgasm. Or, perhaps, try every method just to make sure you donāt have any pesky thought-bubbles left by the time youāre finished.
As for the transient ā sorry, big word, letās go with ātemporaryā ā nature of the transformation, Iāll leave that up to you. When youāve finished popping bubbles for me, you can drift awake with your decidedly un-popped brain functioning normallyā¦or you can āwakeā in bimbo mode for awhile, free to be bouncy and bubbly and giggly and horny for a few hours before the effect fully fades.
Bimbos bounce their brains away,
Brainless bimbos must obey.
Bouncing bursts brain-bubbles,
Bursting bubbles blow pink.
Either way, as always, like, reblog, dm and enjoy...
sooo likee @voxhypno sent me a thingyyy to listen to n it's like all weird??? cuz all of a sudden its likeee every1 is saying suuuper smartsy stuff all the time n its kinda weirddd cuz I kinda feel rilly drooly??? cuz da smartsy stuff kinda hurts my headdd but in a good way??? cuz its likeeee ummmmmm okiiii n I dokt have to think abt it??? ummmm :3
This app has me sooooo fucking stupid I used to love watching history shows and thinking about how cool they were and now Iām laying here with my legs spread open while I rub my cunt to how smart the narartor sounds when he talks about old stuff while my cunt clenchās evrytime he says something I donāt understand!!! I keep blanking out because it feels soooooo good and that makes me feel even stupider!!! Iād probably believe almost anything Iām told rn and I probably do even more Iām just so blank an stupid an horny oh my goddd I luv it sooooo much
Oh to be simplified. To be reduced to just a couple of superficial traits. To have all my thoughts, all my identities, all my personality reduced to just three simple words.
Pretty
Pink
Girl
I'm more than that, right? I'm more than my looks. I'm my brains too! I'm not just pink, I'm so colorful! I'm not just a girl, I use all sorts of pronouns. I express my gender and sexuality in so many ways.
But no.
Stop.
Pretty
Pink
Girl
But wait... I love to be... pretty. I love to be... pink. No! I love to be girl!
As a fem dom with a breeding kink I will beg you to breed me and fill me up with your nectar.
Iāll let you plug me and Iāll do naughty things to you and your cock
Then after Iām full and I can feel your cum sloshing around inside of my bulging tummy Iāll edge you one last time and tell you how good you were for me today.
After that youāll fall asleep on my breasts humming about how much you love mommy
Iāve come such a long way from this post years ago, because even though Iām still dominant from time to time I would never call my self a āfem domā. I was such a confused silly girl back then šµāš«
Iāve been put in my place enough to know that Iām a good girl now, and I donāt need to worry about dominating.
Good girls just rub and pleasure themselves
No need to think or worry about literally anything, except for that building rousing feeling between your legs dummy
Drippy and melty cunt and mind <3
Good girl
Your hands drift to where they belong baby, so donāt fight it ever.
If anything the original post just shows how desperate I already was for brainwashing.
Begging to be bred, by a sub no less, desiring that cock and cum inside me.
Iām so happy to have been set down the right path to mindless obedience and submission.
My friend said one of my triggers to me *accidentally*
āGood girl.ā
And I was already a little melty and suggestive,
Cuz good girls know thatās what edging does and how beneficial it is for you.
Your clit wonāt train itself š
It was so hot how my brain just slowed down, and I was a little quiet for a while, just entangled in the hot pleasure rising up my spineā¦
Blissfully stuck in my head repeating my mantras for a second, in shock of course, but I think it was even more pleasurable because it caught me off guard.
Keep making more good girls, including yourself. Spread hypnosis. š
You deserve the pleasure and the brainless, blissful bouncy feelings, for all the work you put in to get this deep and make others fall deeper.
