Gwen's Playroom @gwenswitch - Tumblr Blog

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lindsayslohan

retroeverything-deactivated2023

Welcome to Stepford Salon, now lets get rid of those pesky worries and thoughts…<3

ladycrowley669

A weekly visit to Stepford Salon is just what this girl needs

joannaeberhart-deactivated20190

darlingyourehome

Stacey put on the dress and immediately settled in. This was her life now. She let her aunt do her hair, makeup, pearls, and fix her lovely gloves and bow. Se posed, and the camera flashed, and Stacey became the perfect Stepford niece that her aunt always wanted.

mrstepford

themodernstepford

“Honey, the 50s called. They want to offer a discount on future visits to the hair salon. Of course. Whatever you say, Honey.”

________________

Check out the Bimbo Board Game on Patreon!

Join our Discord Server if you want to meet like-minded people.

modernhusband

Me and Doll @bimbointhemaking moved on to a new tumblr - keeping it relatively nipple-free but still delivering the same message of bimbo and stepford appreciation.

gwenswitch

Allison lost herself in the mirror. Blonde tresses, pouty pink lips, ample cleavage, lace and lashes, these were not the stuff of her yesterday.

No more late night meetings about mergers and investment capital.

No more red eye flights to both coasts to come face to face with the weakest links in the start up.

No more shag bob and no more pant suits.

No, Dr. Benson had prescribed a much more rigorous treatment for her stress.

And Ali was one deep breath – and one long giggle – from its completion.

gwenswitch

Tara stood gobsmacked before the mirror, ruby red lips, honey blonde curls, plunging neckline, and the necklace she purchased from the antique shop yesterday still clinging to her neck.

Where were her raven tresses she worked so hard to cultivate?

The ebony lips for which she was known throughout the goth punk substrata of dive bar recluses and game shop regulars.

Tara Knight could hardly be Tara Knight with her hair so sunny and her skin so radiant and her lips so …

“Lovely.”

She heard a familiar voice. The shop keeper. Alice. They had been speaking yesterday. At length. She wasn’t sure about the purchase. Alice assured her that some pieces just speak to their buyers.

“This is one. It wants you. Just as you want it.”

Alice said it again and again. It wants Tara. Just as Tara wants it.

It wants Tara.

I want Tara.

I want Tara to want it.

Tara wants it.

Tara wants.

Tara wants what I have.

I have what Tara wants.

There were blurs now. Blurs of after. After the gears and locks found their way round her neck. To her skin.

Shadows of Alice taking her hand, asking what she wants.

“I want what Tara has. I have what Tara wants.” The answer fell from her lips. She remembered it. Comfortably. No fear. Held. Gears. Turning.

She remember the scent of the salon.

The taste of the lip color.

The ride. Another blur.

Her head. A soft pillow. Gentle.

Tara turned to face Alice, catching her reflection in Alice’s crystal blue eyes.

“I am what you want.”

scramble212

An excerpt from my short story, “Place.”

Were the counter higher, her cleavage would spill upon its surface, taking space from her large plate of fries and the last slurps of her shake. Instead it hangs above, breasts floating in place, held up only by the hot pink haltered top of the zebra striped minidress, puffy nipples pressing through the black and white and hot pink lycra/polyester blend.

A few moments before she noticed the kitchen staff peering from behind the warming lights. She doused a fingertip in strawberry and set the cool milk to warm between her breasts, let them watch it melt into sticky. When she licked her fingertip clean, she could felt the wet from her display already ensuring a surprise for the next patron to sit upon the stool.

Read the entire story at on my DeviantArt

Place by Scramble212

gwenswitch

I see you’ve been drinking your milkshake like a good girl.

What was that? It’s your third today? And your fifth since yesterday? They are so very yummy aren’t they? And isn’t it nice how cool and smooth and delicious they make you feel all over.

No need to look quite so dumbfounded. Though I realize it’s hard for you to look anything but a little.. dumb.. at his point.

Now, go get changed and let us see what you’ve bought to amuse and please me.

And to think, you were just going to spend these next few days applying to graduate school … how silly indeed.

gwenswitch

The new employee expectations at the coffee house exhausted Nancy. She’d specifically sought out a job that would let her be completely come as you are, to not worry about whatever mess she got into in the studio before rushing to her shift. So long as her hands were clean, her hair up, and the “Coffee by Committee” apron around her hips and shoulders, nothing else mattered.

But goddam, the new ownership group had all of these rules about grooming and personal appearance and they took forever to read.

Nancy had been a gifted reader all through school, even art school, but the volumes of rules and by laws and subsections … Made her tired just thinking about reading them all.

She could just quit but … Quitters never get ahead in this world and she has ambitious, so gracious no, she won’t quit.

She’ll just listen to the audio versions of the rules provided to the employees in podcast form.

As a bonus, with each sectiond she learned about the owner’s plans for the company. Their goals and ambitions.

At first they made Nancy tense up – who are they to say what is moral and good and proper? But to listen again and again, line after line, word after word, and to breathe and focus and let go of her worries, why it made natural sense.

Just at it made natural sense for Nancy to give up her studio time. After all the company would be granting her a promotion to lead hospitality hostess, where she would be giving the corporate partners extraordinary assistance and attention during their visits.

And the wardrobe allowance was just divine – she couldn’t afford such things on her modest salary, though she couldn’t complain. The company provided her so much. Took care of her. All Nancy needed to do was attend to a few needs.

Goodness, what a gift to have found just the right place for her in this awfully difficult world.

gwenswitch

“Principal Chandler, before you address the faculty and welcome them back to start the new school year, is there anything you think you should share about your new … ahem … look?”

“What?”

“Your new … attire?”

“You mean my dress? What’s wrong with it? Did I snag it on something. Oh my god, I did. I totally put a hole in it or something.”

“No.. no … I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Like… really? Cuz… I don’t wanna stand up there and then look stupid or something.”

“No, no, Ma'am. I’m sure you don’t have to worry about that.”

“<giggle> Good! I’m sooooo lucky that you like help me out with all this hard stuff I have to do.”

“Well, I am the Assistant Principal. It’s right there in the title.”

“Titties?”

“No, Ma'am, ‘Title’?”

“<Giggle> No I mean do mine look okay, silly?”

“Yes.. they.. look… ummm.. just fine.”

“<giggle> Goodie.”

“What uh.. what was that conference you attended this summer again?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Just um… stand there and look pretty today.”

“Duh! Like I could mess that up. <giggle>”

gwenswitch

Have another glass, Senator, and let it glide down your throat just as your frame gives in to that froth.

How much easier things will be now that you’ve accepted your new appointment … chairing committees is no place for a pink bauble like yourself … no … you shall be relegated to less rankings so that you may be able to best service the senior members as we prefer.

You do look fetching in that frock. I’m pleased the gentlewoman from Tennessee selected it for you. She did say something about wanting to see the New York stripped out of you and given you over to proper southern charm.

I do suggest you take her up on the suggest. I’d hate to have to give you over to her minority whip … if you’ll forgive the pun.

Of course you will…

tayfair

“Ohmigawd. Hi.” I shrugged my shoulders giddily, as I looked into the camera. “My bee eff told me he like, loved me today? And I def agreed, so I said like, I would give him an-ee-thing… And he like, def agreed too? So he just like, totally wanted me fer my brain or wutever, an’ I like said okay, fine? Cuz he’s super into smart chicks… I think.” “But nooow?” my nasally, whiney voice stretched high and tight. “I sound like, super dumb an’ I think slower? But now his deck is like, super hard… so I think he’s like, actually into it.” My tongue worked its way between my teeth, a vapid grin overtaking me as I pulled my eyes back to the phone. “He’s like… super sweet, yah?”

gwenswitch

God the place was hot. Especially considering the party hadn’t even started yet. The cruise ship was still unloading and Gretch was just getting things going to fill up the room with some good vibes. It was a weird venue… more like a conference room or social hour hall than a club. But the money was good so … Gretch agreed to spin.

And she did. And she hydrated. She had been getting text messages from her girlfriend all night. Andi thought Gretch was getting too old for the night life. That 27 is when it’s time to leave the tables behind for others. Gretch disagrees but agreed to keep hydrating. One bottle of water. One bottle of aquascale, some holositic treatment Andi insisted Gretch start taking.

Because 29 is when it’s time to give up on the decks. She played another song. Another bottle. Another water. Some folks had arrived. They danced.

They were young. Younger than 33. At 33 it’s time to stop going to the club. No more cruises. Gretch finished another bottle. And then it’s companion. She watched them dance. She smiled. Gentle nods.

40. It’s time to let it go Andrea said before she left the apartment yesterday, “Take care of business and let’s move on.”

Gretch sipped another bottle. And finished another round of the treatment.

The night reached 11 p.m. She turned to Frankie. Might he take over? She was not feeling … Balanced. She did not feel ill, just out of place. A touch out of sorts.

She started for her hotel room. The suite on the top floor. A good night’s rest. She checked her messages. Andrea agreed.

…

“Happy birthday, darling” Andrea pecked her beloved Gretchen on the cheek and set a new Coach bag on the bistro table.

Gretchen smiled, “I didn’t know 45 was the Italian leather birthday,” she smirked back.

“It’s not.” Andrea paused. “50 is.”

Gretchen blinked. And again. Then a tilt Of the head and a genteel smile. “Of course it is.”