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@duckdudette
"Don't worry! Trans people will always be a small minority of the population! Just look at the left handedness chart! It's just like left handedness! It'll flatten out! The number of trans people will stop rising once acceptance has been achieved!"
Not if I can help it.
Don't you wanna be left handed for mommy? Good girls write with their left hand! You can do it! You're gonna make me so proud of you when you use your left hand!
We block Nazis here.
We block Trumpers and Muskers and billionaire bootlickers too.
I ain't got time or patience for that bullshit. My porn is not for you, goodbye.
if you dont think people deserve rights you dont deserve to see my account
THIS 👆👆👆
So my mother-in-law corrected herself when she accidentally misgendered my cat. But she had zero issue immediately misgendering me and using my deadname right after.
I feel like I’m going to explode.
It's so sad when people get jealous of dolls who are cuter and hotter and more feminine with them despite the head start.
Obviously Kiki is too amazing to deserve such ugly reactions, but all us trans bimbos (and trans people in general) need to be there for each other when people see the darkness in their hearts rather than the beautiful person they are demeaning.
All of this to say <3<3<3<3 Stay strong Kiki!
I said it before but it bears repeating:
Wanna truly be a good mindfucker? Listen. Listen. Listen. Ask questions. Listen some more.
They will let you know how to mess with their brains, to what degree, in what direction.
Also, for fuck's sake, don't open a conversation with a fucking B*mbi command. If it doesn't work, you'll look like a dork. If it does, you're trying to abuse someone and should be carried out of this kink on a stretcher.
I've been scrolling Tumblr whilst doing some literature reviewing for work, then I come across this suspicious sentence...
"In this paper, we extend previous work on MAIDs by introducing the concept of a MAID subgame, as well as subgame perfect and trembling hand perfect equilibrium refinements."
This cannot be accidental.
Treating bdsm like a reward rather than a punishment really activates something in my brain. Edging you because you feel warm, fuzzy, and safe when you're drooling and needy. Roughing you up and throwing you around because the powerlessness makes you feel safe and secure. Cnc because it makes you feel loved and desired. Overstimulation because you deserve to cum extra hard, you've been so good. Humiliating you because it makes you feel adored and empowered. Breeding you because it makes you feel extra connected and appreciated. Keeping you denied because you love feeling feral and needy. Facefucking because being my perfect toy makes you feel so pretty. Stuffing you with toys because you feel so wonderful when you're full. Spanking you because the pretty bruises I leave on your body are a reminder that you're adored. Hurting you because I love you and you love to be hurt.
Ana Carolina
Outdoors Beauty Blog 🌞 Archive
Ai Instagram models and Ai Onlyfans models are fine and obviously a lucrative business.
I just find that's it's poor taste when said 'fake' models use REAL bodies from other Instagram models...
If you go check out this AI model on Instagram and you pay attention a little, you'll discover that almost (if not all) all of 'her' pictures were stolen from other models. And from what I saw with a simple quick look over, mostly pictures and videos of the lovely Emily Elizabeth.
And for those that don't believe that she is an ai model, look at the link in her description... ;)
Any, for the above video, I figured it was Emily again and it didn't take me long to find it with a simple reverse image search done with a screen grab.
If you wanna get technical about it, the way machine generated images work, even the actual AI images are stolen from real models
@dio-breaker, do you mean the faces they use for these AI body snatches?
Or full on AI art with no discernable real life image it modifies?
In the former, does the model know her face is being used? Or was that TOO swapped from the net?
In the latter, I guess the same question applies, but minus the 'Frankenstein' combination of multiple models. At least in those, the body too is tweaked and enhanced (in most cases I've seen anyway) and the whole becomes something completely different.
But with body snatches like this? I don't know... Just seems wrong to me...
Like profiting from someone else hard work without crediting them for it.
Every version of AI generated "content" (derogatory) is built based on training data that includes work that is stolen, legally taken but used in a way that breaches the law, or used under dubious legality that most people wouldn't actually like. As an example of the third, a lot of big social media companies have added clauses to their user agreements that let them use everything you upload to train their AI.
EU law has done some to reduce this, but the US and a lot of other countries have not. All regulations lag way behind what companies are currently doing.
So... I know I'm all about Girl Power and very anti-Patriarchy and all that kind of stuff... but I'm also a bimbo and I wanna be praised and objectified and made to feel like a brainless barbie doll.
And like, it's kinda confusing sometimes? I know I'll never like, be one of those girls on here that wants to be a toy for men because I'm still very much a lesbian. But that doesn't mean I don't wanna be a treated like a toy?
I dunno. I feel like such a slut sometimes.
Somebody make it make sense?
It's kinda like... you can be a dumb bimbo toy but your partner will be a big smart woman. And women can be either or neither but they get to choose, not like society or whatever?
Power is Earned
Fuck patriarchy. Straight up. No man deserves power over you for free. No person deserves power over you for free. But don't worry. I'm not saying that you deserve to be in charge. I'm just letting you know that I will earn my power over you.
I won't use tricks. I won't need to. I will simply offer my hand, strong, stable and safe.
If you fall, my hand will be there to catch you and help you regain stability.
When your heart is heavy, my hand will be there with a reassuring touch and a gentle hold.
When you feel lost, my hand will be there to keep you on your way and guide you forward.
And when you are strong, stable and safe on your own, my hand will be there still. And after all of that... what would you be willing to give?
I know some people are getting off while they're posting but, like, I've never really been able to keep both going at the same time. To me, writing a sexy post is like going down someone. In part, Tumblr has given me a LOT of pleasure over the years, and it (read this community/you) deserve some back. But also... sometimes you just get a craving to suck a dick or eat some pussy and you can't quite stop thinking about it until you do it.
f u c k
This is very fun to do in dynamics, but also very affirming with platonic friends. And an interesting kind of fun with platonic friends that you know are also into power play so it's basically flirting to say "No. I said you're an incredible person and worthy of love regardless of what you do for others. You don't have to deflect that. I believe it." and watch them squirm.
The Perfect End to A Long Day
Wow! It's been a long day, hasn't it? Sometimes it feels like the day should be over by lunchtime. You work so hard, don't you? You solve all these big and complicated problems. You make so many great things possible. You're a very clever girl.
But your hard work is done for the day. You don't have to worry about any of that now. You've earned yourself some rest. You've earned the right to do something for you now. Now it's time for your little reward. A pleasurable little treat. You're going to feel so nice. You will relax your body. You can ignore everything around you. All that matters is your body, your sensations, and the things that make you feel hot.
But you have to do it right. Right? This is your time, don't let yourself settle for a boring little rub. I don't want you slightly aroused. I want you hot. I don't want you to feel kinda good. I want you in ecstasy. And I certainly don't want your mind elsewhere. I want every single thought to drip and drool out of you. You will be a horny, mindless, bimbo slut once you're done because that's what good girls like you deserve.
Don't worry, cutie. I'll walk you through the whole process. Just read along, one paragraph at a time, and you'll be feeling everything you deserve very soon.
So let's begin properly. Don't settle for one hand under your professional top and the other pressed against your drab work panties. Go put on something sexy. Something that makes you feel like a good girl, like a bimbo. Touch up your make-up, maybe even turn it up a notch. Don't worry, sweetie, I'll wait while you doll yourself up. But you might want to start an audio file to keep your mind from doing anything it doesn't need to. It would be such a waste to look all sexy and ruin the mood with unnecessary thoughts and worries, wouldn't it?
Ah, you're back! You look gorgeous! Oh, don't act all coy now, you know you're a hot piece of ass. You know what, I bet you could take a killer selfie right now! I bet you could brighten someone's day by showing off how sexy you are. You could even post it publicly if you're feeling very brave... Now, a bimbo like you needs to feel as hot as you look, right? So the next step is to prepare for real, deep pleasure. You won't be settling for your fingers tonight. I want you to go prepare your favourite toy, maybe get a few things so your whole body can feel special. If you need to douche, now's the time. If there's a chance that you will need lube, get some ready. Set a towel down and get ready to fuck, suck and vibrate every thought from your head. Off you go, honey.
All set? Good. Those toys look fun! Now you just need a little something to keep you other senses occupied. What would get you hottest? Maybe you just need to keep looping files, dropping deeper into drooling ditziness. Maybe there are some videos you want to watch, see other sluts and bimbos like you succumbing to the same carnal delights that rule you. Maybe what you need is even more time scrolling Tumblr, more stories, more pictures, more spirals, more good girls helping good girls like you become just who you need to be. Maybe you can do a few at once, follow what you feel. Take a second to sort those out if you need to. You're almost ready for your special little treat.
Now isn't this exciting? You're looking sexy, you have all the most pleasurable toys, and you have the hottest porn ready to enrapture your mind. So now you can make sure everything you need is at your fingertips. You can get yourself into a comfortable position. Then, my obedient little doll, you can fuck your brains out for me.
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For @theditziestrose. I hope you enjoy :)
What Bimbofication Means to Me
I have just had a wonderful time reading "The Benefits of Becoming a Bimbo" by @totallyshattered. It's an excellent story, in part because it captures some key themes that keep me coming back to this genre of smut: the difficulties of being smart and the fear of a life trapped in service of a career at the expense of a life (among others). However, seeing these themes in the story helped me to realise that my perfect answers to the protagonist's concerns are very different to hers (and her Master's).
I am - as this post probably demonstrates - an irredeemable nerd. I think some would see a tension between that and the classic 'dumb bimbo' stereotype that we often see. But, in practice, I know well that most of the people who love bimbofication are quite smart. I imagine that most people seeing this on Tumblr are doing so after a day of dealing with tough (probably mentally challenging) work. Even those who get into real dynamics with their own Masters and Mistresses will tend to do so as a part of an otherwise normal life. And, like most things, I expect that only an extreme minority of people will have totally foregone a normal life for a 24/7 dynamic without pauses for work or contact with family and friends. Maybe there are some who want to - and I hope they can - but I think that they are still a minority even within the community.
At its core, I think that bimbofication is about escapism. We are smart people who see the ugly grey complexity in the world. And yet, we are human so we want an excuse to take refuge in some nice pink cotton-candy clouds, if just for a little while.
For me, I think I want an excuse to be my whole uncensored self. I see bimbofication as the goal of personal sexual liberation. The right hypno files let me wear my sexier workout clothes or add a little fun to chores between edges. The framing of bimbofication has even allowed me to explore my clothing and makeup choices, freeing me from misguided worries about 'propriety' or whatever. Ironically, perhaps, enjoying the fantasy of personal bimbofication has made it increasingly clear what I want in a real-world long-term dynamic: an adorable little bimbo that I can tease, corrupt and dote on in return for dumb affection and occasional domestic service. Oh, and a BUNCH of sex, obviously.
The Benefits of Becoming a Bimbo
For @dubaibimbo
Belinda frowned and tried to hold back tears as she read the grade on her midterm paper. It had 61 marked in red, just barely passing. She sat stunned even as class let out, and people began exiting class hall.
The coed had gone to college to be the first girl in her family to get a degree, but it was so hard! Anything with numbers just made her head spin. Trying to get through just the basic classes was hard enough, but some of these advanced science courses were murderous.
She'd worked so many nights on this, too. Belinda had even skipped celebrating her 21st birthday to finish this up in time. It didn't seem to matter how much effort she put in. She just couldn't get all the theoretical constructs. Her quagmire had extended to other classes, too. The fatigue was affecting all her other grades, and she was free falling to the bottom of the class.
At last, realizing she'd been left alone in the empty room, Belinda wiped tears from her delicate face, collected her things, and left. Her designer bookbag slung on her back, she began the trek to her next class. Even with all the clamor in the hallways, the click of her sensible but stylish heels was readily audible. Her spring-hued sundress flowed around her graceful, toned legs.
The college student always spent the time to look her best. It helped with her self-confidence. Belinda vaguely knew that some of the more catty women around campus badmouthed her for it, but feeling good about her appearance was one of the only things buoying her flagging spirits.
As if they could hear her thoughts, a group of casually clad girls glared at her, whispered something to each other, and starting cackling like witches. She knew whay they were saying.
They called her names like slut, skank, and whore. They called her a brainless idiot and accused her of sucking off the professors for grades. None of it was true. While she was no stranger to a partner’s bed, she had never done anything unethical with a teacher. It didn’t stop the vultures, though.
One name always stuck out to her, though, one she couldn’t help but feel happy when they called her by it.
Bimbo.
She smiled faintly, just thinking about the word. It described someone so beautiful and carefree. Someone happy with life who didn’t have to think and could jist enjoy the lleasures of life.
Sometimes, she thought it would just be easier to quit all this college and career nonsense and be the oversexed, empty headed bimbo they accused her of being. But, no, she had a goal to keep to, even if her chances grew increasingly dim that she'd make it.
The young woman had to shake her head and blink back tears again. She didn't want raccoon eyes and didn't want anybody to see the world was getting to her. Belinda stopped in the bathroom near her next class to check her face for streaks. Thankfully, the waterproof mascara she'd immaculately applied remained intact. She tried to smile in the mirror but couldn't make the corners of her full lips raise past a dejected frown.
The flailing college student left the restroom and clacked into her next classroom. She took a seat close to the lectern, but off to the side so she could put distance between herself and the other students. Belinda didn't feel like dealing with anybody else right now. Normally, feeling their eyes on her made the curvy girl slightly giddy, but not so right now.
When Professor Vahn strode in, she tried to pay attention to his lecture, but her inner turmoil overrode all sensory input. In fact, it took several moments for her to realize that the professor was right in her face asking her a question. She shook her head and stared directly into his cool, grey eyes.
"Are you okay, miss Cruz?" He asked, concern on his face.
"Um... uh... I'm..." She stuttered out, tears returning to her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and tried to contain a sob. Belinda's embarrassment was overwhelming.
Blessedly, nobody else noticed. Her teacher had assigned out a task, and her classmates were chatting amicably, pairing up to start the work. The distraught girl had missed most of the class in her miserable reverie.
"Come with me," he said, grasping her wrist firmly but careful not to cause pain. His touch sent a thrill through her despite her mental state. Professor Vahn was an object of both immense respect and immense lust to the college student. He guided her to the old-fashioned cloak room at the corner of the hall and sat her down on the stool within.
Belinda looked up at him through her tears. He smiled gently at her, his tight jawline raising slightly. He had a bit of a Roman nose, strong cheekbones that were complimented by a close shaven beard with a touch of silver that matched his eyes. She finally broke down entirely and buried her face into his chest. Although taken by surprised, he quickly held her closely as shudders wracked her body.
He whispered gently to her, soothing her with, "Shhh, it's okay. That's a good girl. Just let it out. Just listen to my voice and relax..."
The beleaguered coed gradually felt a calm wash over her, and her tears faded. Her thoughts floated away on a tide of warm baritone water, and she felt peace returning to her. Belinda remained vaguely aware that he was still speaking, but the words did not reach her conscious mind. She felt trust burrow its way inside her, trust for the kind teacher taking away her pain.
After an unknown length of time, her mind returned sluggishly, but serenely. Belinda realized he was talking to her again, and she shook her head quickly, trying to pay attention.
He was telling her that he needed to go to his next lecture soon, but that he wanted to see her later thay day. Vahn said that he'd assigned a paired project for the course. Being a psychology course, it was a study on personality typing and probing therapeutic questions. He said that because of her lapse, there was no one left to pair.
Miss Cruz began to lapse into tears again, but a firm 'relax' left his lips, and she reflexively calmed. Why did she feel tears? What were they just talking about?
He would be her partner in the class stufy, he told her. She agreed even though she wasn't sure what he was talking about. He ordered her to come see him every day to be evaluated. It never entered her mind that she was supposed to evaluate him as well.
Professor Vahn smiled again, lighting up Belinda inside. "Good girl," he told her. "Be at my home no later than 7 pm. Do not eat before you come."
"Yes, sir," she quivered in reply.
As he left, Belinda realized how refreshed she felt. Checking the time, she had a few minutes to grab a quick protein shake and freshen up before her next class.
Heading back into the bathroom, she touched up her makeup, adding a bit more for good measure and took stock of herself. Belinda thought she looked okay but felt a bit uncomfortable. She unfastened the two buttons at the top of her sundress so she could tighten the straps of her demi-bra.
Satisfied with how her boobs now looked and felt, she smiled brightly at the mirror. Belinda felt much better. She did decide, though, that she wanted to change heels at home. The young woman liked this pair, but they felt a bit off for some reason. Maybe the heels were slightly uneven. Something to think about.
As she strode out of the bathroom, head high, posture good pushing her considerable cleavage out proudly, and with a bright smile on her face, she felt renewed. She'd never bothered to refasten her buttons, so her tits bounced around happily, drawing looks from men and women around her. This pleased Belinda.
Things were going to turn around, she knew it!
--------------
Belinda Cruz arrived at Professor Vahn's home five minutes before 7.
She had changed into her favorite little-black-dress outfit and grabbed her 4-inch stilletos. She loved the heels but rarely wore them outside a club setting. They felt appropriate for the evening somehow, even if it was just class related.
She giggled as she walked to the door. Like most Filipinas, she was on the short side, only 5'1", but she felt like a giant tottering around at 5'5". It felt freeing to wear what made her feel good.
As she rang the doorbell, a cool spring wind blew. It blew against the already slightly damp gusset of the thong she wore to avoid panty lines in her dress. Her nipples, already excited by meeting with the handsome professor, grew diamond hard. She briefly wondered if she should have worn a bra but shook off the feeling. It felt good not to wear one. It's not like her generous tits really needed it, and like bulkier panties, it would ruin the outline of the dress.
Belinda took a deep breath as she heard footsteps coming to the door. She looked great, felt great, and knew she was going to do well under her professor... er, on the project. She giggled again at her Freudian thought as the door opened.
Professor Vahn opened the door and gave her the elevator eyes for a moment, a genuine but slightly predatory grin on his face. Greeting her, warmly, he leaned down slightly to hug her. While only about 6', he still towered over the coed.
He pulled her body close and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Belinda caught a whiff of his cologne, a spicy musk that screamed masculinity. She smiled happily as he pulled her close, but then caught her breath as she felt his beard grace her ear.
"You dressed up just for me," he whispered. "Good girl."
Electricity shot through her body, goosebumps rising along her skin, and warmth poured into her tethers. Her blood rushed. She wanted him to take her right that moment, even if it was unethical.
"Relax," he told her.
Belinda blinked for a moment, calm returning to her. Whay had just happened? Her memory seemed fuzzy for the past few moments. Gawd, she felt flushed.
"Come in, have a seat in the living room a moment," he commanded.
She obeyed quickly, her heels tapping on the marble floor. Belinda was more than slightly awed at the house. It looked big from the outside, but inside, it looked positively cavernous compared to her dorm.
Clearly, her professor was well off. The carpet in the sitting room was lush and deep, and she felt the fibers caressing her exposed toes. As she sat on the overstuffed couch, she wiggled her digits, enjoying the softness against her toes. The couch was a deep brown leather but had a fresh-scented cotton blanket covering it.
There was also a love seat and four padded chairs in the sitting area, with a crystal table in the middle. Off to the side was a cherry wood bar area with two stools pushed up against it. It appeared well stocked woth a shelf full of various drinking vessels. There was even a mead horn hanging from the well. It looked more worn than decorative. She briefly wondered if he actually used it.
On the wall was a large television. It looked as big as her bed. It was playing a documentary of some sort. Belinda watched casually at first but was quickly drawn in. The theme appeared to be about a study surrounding the happiness of women in various careers vs. women who married into a more traditional role. Apparently, while career women felt proud and strong, they also reported chronic fatigue and low happiness.
Conversely, women who married young and exited the workplace had a high rate of happiness and personal satisfaction. They worked on themselves, had families if they wanted, and were generally free to pursue what felt good. The so-called trophy wives were the happiest group. Belinda almost panted at the gorgeous women, fit, gorgeous, modified to almost perfection. They didn't need brains... they were hot and rich and never had to think… they were perfect.
They were bimbos…
"I took the liberty of making you a drink," she heard as the Professor entered the room, startling her out of her thought spiral. She laughed absently as he placed a cocktail before her. A margarita on the rocks? How did he know her favorite drink? He even put in a slim straw so she could nurse the cocktail without ruining her lipstick.
She stuck out her little pink tongue to capture the straw and sipped. It was perfect. Belinda began thinking of other things to suck before chastising herself. This was her professor. She was here to work, not to suck his hard... fat... long....... cock!
The increasingly randy student snapped to herself again suddenly as she realized Professor Vahn was speaking to her. She giggled again nervously and just nodded her head in agreement. Belinda continued to agree without really paying attention. It seemed like the right thing to do. He was so smart and handsome, she had to agree.
"Dinner time," he announced, suddenly.
"Oh!" Belinda's eyes opened wide. She realized she was starving! She didn't bother to check to see that she'd already been there nearly an hour.
The girl joined her teacher in the kitchen, which was just as big and gorgeous as the rest. Belinda thought that she'd love to have a kitchen this big to cook for a strong man. But, for a career woman, it would be years or decades before she'd halve something this nice. The thought soured her face momentarily.
They sat down to eat and chatted amicably. Belinda learned that he was a widower whose wife had passed away due to a drunk driver and that he'd inherited the house from his parents, who had both passed on. They had been nearly 50 when they became pregnant with the Professor, so it wasn't surprising that he came into his inheritance by 30. He was nearing 40 now, himself. She hung on his every word. She asked if he was still interested in dating, but he responded in the negative.
"I'll know the one when I've found her," he said confidently, piercing her with his gaze. The electricity poured through her again as she practically gushed. Her heart was racing.
"Relax."
Belinda blinked. What was he saying? It seemed important, but it was fine now. Oh well, thinking was hard. She wasn't good at it, anyway.
The cotton minded girl mindlessly rubbed at one still erect nipple, giggling at herself. Good thing she was hot! Maybe a career wasn't the best idea for her...
No! She had a mission! She WOULD graduate! She couldn't give up hope.
So why did it feel so hollow to think about being successful?
As they finished dinner, the older man commented, "Good girl, you finished your dinner. I love a healthy eater."
Oh gawd, there it was again. The searing heat. It threatened to melt her.
Her professor took her hand firmly and helped her up from the table, but one of her heels caught on a chair leg, and she stumbled into his chest. Stunned from the fall, Belinda didn't move away immediately. The older man's arms encircled her, and she breathed deeply of his scent. Behind his cologne, she could smell HIM, and it was overwhelming. Her body rejoiced in his touch.
She felt his hands ascend her back. One reached up into her hair, grabbed a sold hold, and pulled her head back sharply, but not painfully. Belinda's eyes locked onto his face, its expression fixed in a hunter's stare. She swooned.
His other hand traced from her earlob, down her chin, and onto her slender neck before he roughly pulled her forward. Their faces were less than an inch apart. The conquered woman couldn't even breathe.
Then he kissed her. The electricity crackled across her body and seemingly into his as the fierceness of the lip lock intensified. Their tongues mingled, wrestling with each other.
Finally he pulled her back again, his hand still held her hair. He gazed intensely at her for another moment, and then took a deep breath. He leaned forward, she tried to kiss him again, but before she could, he said, "Not yet. Relax."
Belinda looked around confused. Why was she so close to her professor. She looked into his eyes, and saw mirth there. What had she been thinking? She wasn’t sure. Good girls don’t need to think. Maybe that’s why I don’t like school, she reasoned.
"You tripped, silly doll'" he told her, causing her to shiver. "You need to practice more in those heels. Wouldn't want you to fall and expose something naughty "
The alreqdy flustered student flushed at the word naughty, her shivers intensifying. She hoped he didn't notice, but there was little chance.
Her teacher chuckled deeply, a pleasant sound that she felt vibrating in his chest. Gawd, he was sexy, but she knew she had to control herself. She wanted to he a good girl... er... responsible student. She giggled nervously at the new Freudian thought bouncing around.
"Now," he continued, "There's a restroom down the hall, one the right, across from my library." He gestured one big hand in the proper direction. "Be a good girl and freshen up there, then meet me inside the library when you're ready."
Belinda stuttered out a thanks, and then tottered to the restroom quickly. She desperately needed to breathe. The overheated girl didn't know if she could keep it together much longer.
She closed the door quickly, and locked it. Then she moved to the toilet, and pulled down her panties. The gusset of the thong was soaked all the way through! How did that happen?
The confused coed pulled them all the way off. There was no way she could put them back on. She shuddered at the thought that she must wreak of arousal. Could he smell her?
The thought made her loins clench in embarrassment and lust. As horrifying as the idea was, she was more turned on than she could ever remember. It felt so hot, so slutty to think that her authority figure could smell her musky arousal.
Without any conscious action, Belinda began sucking on one girl-cum soaked thumb while her other hand snuck down to her pussy. She began rubbing little circles around her swollen clit, and her hips humped against the friction.
Light, girlish moans involuntarily emanated from her throat as her eyes rolled up into her head. The heat that had been rising in her all night threatened to boil over. Two finger slipped into her quim and pumped quickly, her palm angled to mash against her clit each time her fingers reached the knuckle. She was so close…
A loud rap against the door broke her out of her slutty haze.
“Everything okay in their, doll?” came Profesor Vahn’s voice.
“Uh, um, y-yes, I’m fine.” She stammered out. “I’ll be out in a moment!”
“Be a good girl and don’t make me wait,” he replied.
She bit her lip almost hard enough to draw blood as she tried not to scream while she spontaneously orgasmed. Her body shook, her pussy clenched for the cock that should have been inside her, her mind went blank.
It felt like hours before she came back to her body. Breathing heavily and feeling limply boneless, her thoughts gradually returned.
Belinda couldn’t believe what had just happened. How could she be so horny, so slutty, that just her professor’s voice had driven her over the edge. Maybe she was a… a…
“Bimbo,” she whispered to herself.
Giddy warmth as she said it. It felt so good. Maybe it was okay that she was a bit of a bimbo. Belinda could still work hard and finish college. Hell, maybe being hotter and more likable to men would make it easier.
But, no, that couldn’t be. She had to be serious. Had to reach her goal. Had to… did she even still want to?
Shaking her head, she brushed the thoughts aside and set to the monumental task of cleaning herself up. Thankfully, Professor Vahn had plenty of supplies to tidy her appearance.
Curiously, he had several of her favorite brands of soap, cleanser, and toiletries along with a smattering of other cosmetic products. It bothered her for a moment. The confused girl almost felt like she remembered something about her Professor… something about counseling… hmm.
But as quickly as the thought bubble popped into her head, it popped out just as swiftly. The coed giggled to herself when she realized that he must occasionally have girlfriends over. Of course, he would have products she liked. He probably dated quality bimbos like herself.
Belinda gasped. Had she really thought of herself as a bimbo? Wow, she thought. I must be really flustered.
Although…, she continued musing, imagining herself being a pampered little bimbo trophy wife who lived to be pretty and happy and take care of her handsome man. It made her belly quiver and her womanhood clench invokuntarily, again seeming to call out for his cock.
No, no, she shook it off. Bad girl, stay focused. Get ready for Professor Vahn. Look your best for him so he can analyze you properly.
Finally, after reapplying some of her makeup and stowing her soaked, toilet-paper wrapped thong in her purse for safe keeping, she was ready to face him. Belinda checked her appearance one last time, smiled happily, and exited the bathroom to the library across the hall.
Her teacher was waiting there, patiently. He smiled at her and offered her another cocktail. Belinda cooed and accepted the delicious drink. This would surely push her into tipsy territory, but she knew she could trust her professor implicitly.
Tittering lightly as the drink renewed the warmth in her belly, Belinda sat on the traditional fainting couch next to her Professor’s desk and comfortable-looking brown leather office chair. He held a pencil, pad, and had put upon a pair of old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses. It made him look even smarter. Hotter, too!
Vahn smiled as she seductively laid down on the couch and then started a metronome sitting on his desk. The rhythmic clacking was gently distracting and caught her attention immediately.
“That’s right,” he said. “Listen to the sound. Let the rhythm enter you. Feel yourself drift.”
Despite her excitement, the desirous young woman felt her mind begin to float. It was so soothing, and it seemed so familiar. Oh well…
“Good girl,” the smug-faced man continued. “Let your mind wander with the rhythm, amd answer my question honestly, without thinking.”
“Without… thinking…” She uttered quietly.
“What is your name?”
“Belinda….”
“What do you do?”
“University s-student…”
“Do you like it?”
She hesitated.
“Bad girl. Tell me, do you like school?”
She shuddered. Then finally answered sorrowful, “No… I hate it…”
“Why do you hate it?”
“It’s hard… people are mean… just wanna feel free. Pretty and happy…”
“Pretty and happy is how you define free?”
“Yesss…”
“What do you call a girl who is free, pretty, and happy?”
“Bimbo…” The word flowed from her mouth like honeyed liquor. She loved that word, even in her trance.
“Do you want to be a bimbo?”
“Yes… oh yes.. “
He smiled, “How do you feel right now”
“Happy… floaty…”
“Do you feel free?”
“Mmhm…”
“Are you pretty?”
“I… I think so…”
“You are very petty,” he confirmed.
“I am very pretty…”
“You are gorgeous. A walking sexpot.”
She smiled faintly and squirmed.
“You are pretty, and free, and happy right now, correct?”
“Yeesss…”
“Yes what?”
Another tremor shot thrift her as Vahn activated another trigger.
“Yes… Masterrrr…” she responded, shaking with lust.
“What do you call a girl who is pretty, happy, and free?”
“Bimbo!!!” She cried as she came even in her tranced state. The aroma of her arousal began to fill the room.
“Are you a bimbo?”
“Yessss, Master…”
“Tell me bimbo, what is your real name?”
“Belli!”
“And what are you Belli?”
“A bimbo!” She exulted.
“Good girl, Belli,” he grinned predatorily. “What did you learn from watching TV today when you came here?”
“Bimbos are happy… bimbos like being trophy wives… they get to have fun and fuck husband’s and make babies…”
“is that what Belli wants to do?”
“Yessss, Master…”
“Does Belli want to go to school and learn?”
“No, Master…”
“Does Belli like being Belinda?”
“No, Master…”
“Does Belinda like being Belli?”
“Yes… yes…”
“Belinda is sad, and trapped, and doesn't feel pretty, does she?”
“Nooooo…”
“Does Belinda want to come back?”
“Nooo… please no…” tears steamed from her eyes as Bellinda begged no to return.
He smiled. It was time.
“Belinda, I’m going to wake you up now”
He stopped the metronome and counted her awake.
Belinda opened her eyes, and looked at him, tears glistening, though she didn’t know why. It was still all locked away. But it would be no longer
Professor Vahn leaned close and whispered…
“Rmemeber.”
Lightning tore through her mind, repressed memories, feelings, sensations all hit her at once. How many times had she come here? How many times had she repeated this night? How many times had she confessed her desires to him?
She shook, and she wept. Her head hurt. She hated it. It hurt to think so much. Belinda looked up at Vahn, struggling to gain any kind of composure.
He sat quietly, gazing at her. His eyes were full of compassion and warmth. Vahn held out his arms, and Belinda rushed into them, sobbing into his chest as shebhad in the cloak room. Her would-be Master stroked her hair as she let out all her pain.
Finally, she asked, “Why?”
He smiled faintly at her, “Because you needed it, Belli. You practically begged me to do this to you after our first session. Remember?”
She did, now. It felt so good last semester when he’d put her under to question her subconscious to help him with a study on Ego vs. Id research. His looks at her made her feel sexy, his voice made her feel happy, and his trace made her feel free.
Belinda looked up at him for the final time, her eyes shining, “I’m ready… Master.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” He questioned. “Ready to leave school, to be Belli always, to belong to me?”
“It’s all I ever wanted.”
He kissed her fiercely, passion rippling through them. They stayed that way for an endless moment before they broke apart. He told her to close her eyes.
Finally, he spoke, “Belli is the best Bimbo.”
Feeling tore through her again, but this time, it was warm, carefree, and happy. In her minds eye, Belinda and Belli looked into each other’s eyes and held hands before embracing. At last, Belinda faded into Belli.
When she opened her eyes, Belli squealed happily before practically tackling her Master. They laughed together as they tore each other's clothes off.
As Vahn’s cock rose from his pants, she grasped it lovingly, cooing as she stroked it. She reveled in the feeling.
He was so aroused for his new bimbo that drops off precum were already dribbling out. Belli’s flexible tongue flitted out to taste him. Her eyes rolled back from the ecstacy of the flavor filling her sense and groaned uncontrollably around the crown.
The cock crazed girl began a steady rhythm of stroking as she tried to engulf as much of him as possible. Though she gagged some, she was giddy that she was able to take so much of it, and vowed to herself that she’d eventually take it all.
Vahn was moaning praise and denigration to her in a low voice, the same tone he used when trancing, and it automatically embedded itself into Belli’s new personality.
Cock crazed slut. Bimbo fuck toy. Stupid cum dump. Cock drunk whore. Her new gospel wove its way into her mind, feeding her lust and submission.
She began massaging his shaved balls, enjoying the wrinkled texture of his skin. Belli knew she’d be doing this from now on whenever she felt sad or nervous.
Stress balls, she giggled to herself.
Shortly, her Master’s voice broke, and his head rolled back, eyes closed. The fuck toy felt his balls contract, instinctively knowing he was about to cum. She held his shaft and balls firmly and concentrated her tongue on the underside of his tip, stimulating the sensitive glans and heightening his sensation.
When her professor growled out his climax, Belli aimed his cock at her face, desperate to be marked. The first two shots of her pearly baptism sealed her new status as an owned woman. She engulfed the head again, greedy to suck down the rest of his cum. Her eyes were cummed shut, but her grin went ear to ear.
This was what she was made for.
-----------
A few days went by before Belli appeared in public again. She’d spent the time between learning how to be the perfect companion, sex slave, and soon to be wife of Master Vahn.
Her loving owner and fiancé had bought her a new wardrobe befitting her new status. The pink clouds she floated on made it so easy to submit the paperwork to officially drop out of school. It's not like she needed a degree or brains to be a devoted bimbo trophy wife.
The enraged look on jealous bitches’ faces as she tottered down the hallway on 6" heels, arm in arm with her Master fiancé, was just icing on the cake.
She grinned evilly at them, then lovingly at her soon to be husband, and basked in the glow of the benefits of becoming a bimbo.
If you want to live the bimbo trophy lifestyle but struggling to justify it with your beliefs, there is a simple solution.
Gold digger x Robin Hood
Be the wealth tax that every billionaire deserves.
She was 38. Not old, but aging perhaps. There were people who would say she was still young, but she knew she had a shelf life. She has chosen a life of submission. Of being an obedient fucktoy for the man she worshipped. But more recently she had started to think about what happens to fucktoys when they no longer look like the perfect sexual beings the were supposed to be. When frown lines, and crows feet and cellulite and wrinkles began to win the battle against lotions and exercise and healthy eating. Was she to be discarded for another, newer, better toy? An improved version of who she used to be? She felt no anger. She wanted this. Needed it to be this way and to live this life. Her choices were not her own after she had made that decision, but that decision had been hers. And she wanted him to be happy. To have the best of everything and to be constantly pleased by his toy. If she wasn’t what pleased him anymore, she wanted him to discard her. But she didn’t know if she could make her way in the world without him. Without his direction, control and support. Without his love.
It was the dress that brought her back to these thoughts. She had obediently gone to her dressing room to put on whatever was in the box on the bed, fully expecting it to be one of the four usual options. A slutty costume, some sexy lingerie, something bondage related, or nothing at all. She had liked those occasions when she was naked best recently, although she would never tell him so. When he didn’t need the decoration or the equipment to show her he still desired her. That he still wanted her to be his toy. But that wasn’t to be this evening. This evening’s outfit was a stunning evening gown. The cut was sexy, leaving her back completely bare, but with a level of sophistication she hadn’t experienced for a number of years. It set her mind whirring. Was this a special date? Had she failed to remember a key moment in their time together? Did he want to have a special evening before saying goodbye? Was she being given or sold to someone and being dressed for show? She wanted to cry. “I am a good girl, and I must do as I told,” she had said out loud to steel herself for the evening ahead. She dressed whilst repeating her mantra which helped calm her and made her way down to him.
She paused as she entered the room. Unsure for a moment. Her usual place was to kneel in his presence, but in this dress she was not sure he would want that. He saw her, smiled at her obvious confusion and spoke “Good evening Girl. Come here. Stand before me and let me look at you.” She replied “Yes Sir” trembling a little. She tried to glide over to him on her heels, feeling a little silly doing so. When she reached him, he took her hands in his, looked her in the eyes and began speaking. “I know you have been conflicted recently little one. I have seen it in your facial expressions when you look in the mirror. I see you worry that you will not please me. I see you thinking about the future and worrying, and because you know good toys don’t think for themselves, I see you trying to hide your worry from me.“
She blushed and dropped her head mumbling a little as she said. “Yes Sir. I am sorry Sir. ”
He gently lifted her chin again with his finger. So that she was once again looking into his eyes. “If you understood what I see when I look at you, you wouldn’t worry.” He said smiling. “I didnt choose you because you were the prettiest toy, although you are.” He went on, making sure to emphasise the word are. “I didn’t choose you because you were the most obedient or the most imaginative or even the most adoring, although all of those things are true. I choose you for you. The whole of you. Everything you are, and everything you will ever be. You are mine. Then, now and always tomorrow, whatever may come. The games we play may change and the way I play with you may change. That’s the reason for the dress. There are other games to play, and other ways to be who we are for each other, but regardless of that we will always be who we are for each other. Being the man you need me to be makes me the man you think I am. The man I can only really be for you. You need to understand that Emily.”
He hadn’t called her that since she had made her decision. It broke her resolve not to cry and her emotions overwhelmed her. He pulled her close and held her as she sobbed into his shoulder. “Thank you Sir. I just want to be your good girl.” She said once she had managed to recover her poise a little. He let go of her with his left arm and slide his right arm down to her rear, giving it a squeeze. “Besides” he whispered in her ear “how could I ever get through a day without grabbing this incredibly fuckable arse?”
Hear me out!
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