You can't remember what you used to be like, can you bimbo? Do you remember the package? The envelope? Surly you remember the glitter bomb right? Oh, you poor bimbo, do you want me to tell you the story again? How you became such a good girl?
You were a sweet young thing. Had a good job, well paying. But you were alone. You didn't have many close friends and family. When you got that beautiful pink letter in the mail, you couldn't believe anyone would send you a letter! If only you looked a bit closer, maybe you would have realized that lipstick kiss on the envelope was an odd thing.
When you opened the letter, the glitter explosion covered your neat little kitchen. It covered your face, and clothes, and of course, you. The surprise of it made you inhale so much of it, so much of it cascading down into your mouth, lungs, and core.
Despite your best efforts, it did not come out well. Your face and hair remained thoroughly contaminated despite many minutes in a hot shower. Your kitchen had no chance. A problem for later, as it was already late and you had work early in the morning. All that for a blank letter.
But, when you awoke you like, felt so good, feeling more refreshed than you had been in ages. The glitter had, absorbed? Disappeared? Overnight and was so far from your mind. When getting ready, the mirror caught your eye. You looked...really good. You started off your morning with a cute little selfie. It was odd, you never took pictures of yourself. Your confidence was soaring you just had to post it to your little Instagram page.
At work, compliments were coming in. Everyone thought your hair looked so nice, your skin so fresh. The comments online also gushed about how nice you looked, so many strangers coming to compliment how you looked. So many beautiful women hearting your post.
God it had to feel good, right bimbo? Being called adorable? Cute?
The next morning, your hair had lightened quite a bit, a blonde tone taking shape. Your breasts feeling a bit more bouncy, your lips, taking on a cute, round shape. Another selfie, and everyone gushed about how cute you are, and how lovely your hair color is. The love for your body made you vibrate. Work was similar, so many nice compliments, even if your actual job felt hard to complete. The numbers on the spreadsheet felt like bubbles. Just popping away.
Weeks pass. Each day more selfies, more love, and more bimbo coming to the forefront. Your job began to tank as you stopped coming to work. It was more important to... cultivate your online presence, so that more people can appreciate how beautiful you are.
When you receive the black envelope in the mail, like, words were so hard to understand. All of your notes came from online, not in person. After trying to piece out what the letter said, some part of you screamed with horror.
THE GLITTER POISONED YOU. THE MORE YOU POST, THE MORE THEY CHANGE YOU. STOP POSTING AND YOU'LL RETURN TO NORMAL.
You realized what happened to you, so late. Part of you writhed against this new you. With your cute blonde hair, perky breasts, full lips, and like, short attention span. You managed to get a single moment of lucidity, of what you’ve been doing, of what you were becoming.
You go to delete the apps. Delete the photos. Delete everything. Then…a notifications came in, and you remembered how good it is to be admired. To be praised, to be idolized.
The message to protect you is now your instruction manual. You post so much more now, don’t you bimbo? Keep it up, pink is such a good color on you. With a beautiful body like yours, doesn’t it make sense to share it? To give and receive pleasure from, all who want it, bimbo?
Can I tell you a secret bimbo? I sent both letters to you. Someone was nice enough to enroll you in our program, but you seem like a natural. The 2nd letter barely tripped you up. Just wait till we can help cultivate your inner slutty self!
2087
germansingergirl
prguitarman
titsay
gamechangershow
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
izzy806
