The thought drifted through Fiona's mind as she stared into the tiny compact mirror resting in her palm.
For a moment, she didn't recognize the woman looking back. Crimson lips. Long curled lashes. Wide, shining eyes framed by immaculate makeup. She looked like a doll. Or a woman of dubious profession.
The face wasn't unfamiliar exactly. It was hers. Yet it somehow felt wrong. As though she were looking at a carefully crafted imitation.
Fiona frowned.
The expression lasted less than a second.
A sharp discomfort immediately followed.
Her gaze locked onto her lipstick. The color seemed slightly faded. The realization became unbearable.
Without conscious thought, her hand reached into her purse. The familiar red tube slipped into her fingers. Relief washed over her before she had even uncapped it.
"There we go," she murmured softly. The lipstick glided across her lips. Back and forth.
Perfect.
The discomfort vanished instantly. A pleasant warmth spread through her chest. Fiona smiled. Then giggled.
The sound startled her.
For a brief moment she couldn't remember why. The giggle sounded airy. Not at all like the composed professional she remembered herself being. Or thought she remembered herself being. The distinction suddenly seemed important.
Then it slipped away.
Her eyes returned to the mirror.
Everything looked right again. A small pulse of satisfaction fluttered through her. Fiona blinked slowly.
What had she been thinking about?
Something that had seemed important a moment ago.
She could feel the shape of the thought lingering just beyond reach. The more she yearned for it, the more distant it became.
Her attention shifted to her reflection.
Another touch of lipstick might help. A little more mascara too. The thought felt wonderfully reasonable.
She smiled brightly.
Now she looked exactly the way she was supposed to look.
The comforting certainty settled over her mind.
For several seconds she simply admired her reflection.
Then she giggled once more.
She had remembered that she was meeting someone today. Someone who always smiled when she looked her best. The realization filled her with a warm anticipation. Fiona snapped the compact shut and rose from her chair.
Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor. A small smile tugged at her lips with every step.
She glanced around the empty waiting room.
It seemed like an ordinary office lobby, save for its immaculate condition. The polished floors and white leather furniture were so pristine that she wondered if they had ever been used.
Fiona had arrived a quarter of an hour ago. She hadn't seen anyone since.
She had felt certain of the exact time of the meeting. Yet she hadn't remembered how she had scheduled the appointment or even what it had involved.
It had to do with something that harlot Giselle was working on. Frowning, she tried to think about it.
The compact clapped open immediately. Her gaze snapped to the mirror.
More eyeshadow.
That's what she needed.
She reached for her cosmetics. A moment later she had the small case open.
Fiona smiled as she applied a little extra powder to the corners of her eyelids. She could feel herself relaxing as she did.
When she finished she examined herself carefully in the small mirror.
Her mouth turned down in displeasure. The lipstick seemed faded again. She shook her head slightly as she reached for the red tube.
She could barely contain the feeling of well being as the waxy substance passed over her lips.
A delicious sound escaped through those luscious pillows. They looked so plump. So full.
Fiona ran her tongue slowly over them, savoring the sensation. They seemed a touch swollen.
The realization caused a small tingle to pass through her.
A moment later she heard the door open.
Euphemia, her secretary, had entered. She wore a tight combination of leather that pressed those delightful curves in ways that left Fiona's mouth dry.
The younger woman had her hair dyed into a shocking pink. But it looked perfect with the makeup she wore. Fiona had to blink a few times.
She could have sworn that Euphemia despised to look so, slutty.
The woman's hips rolled in an exaggerated way as she approached.
Fiona's eyes were drawn to those hips as the secretary moved, the way her body rolled and twisted had her licking her lips, unconsciously, her hand already reaching for the tube of lipstick that was always with her.
"Good morning, bitch," the woman said in a breathy tone that sounded strange to the older woman.
She nodded, her thoughts a whirlwind of confused ideas. "Thank you, darling" she murmured softly.
A flicker of confusion appeared in Euphemia's eyes. But before another word left the secretary she reached into her brassiere and took out a familiar compact.
Fiona shivered. Something about these mirrors wad wrong. She had to - put another layer on her lips. That's all she really needed to do.
Both women looked at the mirror and then they were staring at each other's mouths. "My lips look too pale," said Euphemia in a low breathy voice. She reached for the lipstick. Fiona watched, fascinated as the younger woman's tongue flicked over those black lips. Fiona felt an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss them. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. What had just happened? She couldn't quite remember.
"You're looking like a fine fuck, bitch" the secretary purred as she put her compact away and Fiona's eyes returned to those painted black lips, mesmerized. "We'll need you looking your best for today's meeting."
"Of course, darling," Fiona replied distractedly. "We need to look the best for Giselle."
Euphemia smiled and licked those lips again, a gesture which sent shivers down Fiona's spine. The older woman had no idea what she was doing, or why, but the thought was so appealing she could not help herself. As Euphemia turned to leave, Fiona caught her wrist.
Euphemia raised her eyebrow inquisitively and glanced at Fiona.
"I-I want to taste," Fiona began, but the rest of her sentence was lost in the soft press of the other woman's lips.
Their tongues tangled together in an exquisite dance. Euphemia sucked on her lips greedily, leaving her breathless and weak in the knees. When they broke the kiss, Euphemia giggled at the expression of pure bliss that crossed the older woman's face. She traced her fingers over the swollen, red lips and grinned wickedly. "Now you have to do all the makeup again, bitch." The thought seemed to send shivers through the older woman and Fiona smiled widely. The prospect of reapplying makeup seemed positively thrilling.
Euphemia giggled again and turned to leave the office, her hips rolling in a seductive sway.
Fiona returned to the compact mirror and stared into its depths.
Without thoughts she started applying layers and layers of makeup to her face, painting over everything unseemly.
***
Giselle looked at the two women who had entered her little corner of the business.
They were a treat to the eye. Fiona had a body that had aged like a fine wine. Her curves, her long legs and that magnificent cleavage. Her face had been covered with layers of makeup that made her look delicious. And definitely more like a slutty parody of her usual professional self.
Giselle could feel herself getting aroused by just looking at her.
Then there was Euphemia. That young, vibrant creature with the perfect little ass and her perky breasts, just asking to be played with, looked like she stepped right out of some punk or goth porn. All black makeup, black clothes and a shock of pink hair.
Giselle didn't think that her compacts would be that strong. Or maybe she had underestimated the desire in those women to look more slutty. To become the perfect playthings for her and her clients.
"There are going to be some changes around here," Giselle said with her sweetest smile.
"What kind of changes?" asked Fiona. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as if she had been drinking all day. A strand of saliva ran down the side of her mouth. She giggled as she wiped at it with a fingertip. "We've been busy."
"Yes, I know. You've worked hard." Giselle's voice dripped honey and venom in equal measure. "And that's exactly why change is needed. First, Fiona, I want every employee to have a compact."
"I'll make sure everyone gets one." The woman nodded obediently, licking her lips.
Giselle's eyes sparkled dangerously. She turned her gaze to Euphemia, who was standing quietly next to her. "Second point, Euphemia, I want some changes done to the internal messaging system. It should reflect our new business model: Luscious Lips and Slutty Sex," Giselle announced grandly. Her voice had a lilting quality to it that seemed to mesmerize the two women before her.
"Yes, mistress." The young woman smiled, licking her lips. Her tongue flicked over them suggestively.
"And finally," Giselle's eyes narrowed slightly. "You two tarts are making me wet. I need some, entertainment." Her hand slipped down between her thighs.
Euphemia and Fiona exchanged looks, then nodded in unison. Their expressions became lascivious and hungry as they knelt before her.
Giselle smiled wickedly, spreading her legs wider. "Good girls." Her hand dipped beneath the waistband of her panties, finding the wet warmth within. "Let's begin, shall we?"
"Yes, Mistress." The two women spoke simultaneously, their voices dripping with lust.
Giselle leaned back, enjoying the marks their plump pillow lips left on her flesh.
She couldn't wait for everyone to have a small compact in their pocket. They had so many better thoughts than people.
A new store popped up at the mall and it caught Walterâs eye. It was a candy store not much different than any other candy store, except for one big difference, the help. The store was staffed with HOT chicks in skimpy uniforms. And hereâs the best part, they were super friendly and talked to him real nice, even if it was obvious they were not very smart.
After graduation, Walter still kept his job at Pretzel Hut, but seemingly spent all his money in Mystic Sweets. He couldnât justify the long conversations with Tawny or Danni without buying something while he tried to drink up their sexy cleavage. Â
Eventually his stockpile of candy out paced his earnings from Pretzel Hut. Dejected, Walter went into Mystic Sweets after his shift to talk to Tawny.
âHey Sugar. Oooh, why you looking like youâre sad?â Tawny greeted Walter cheerfully.
Walter looked down embarrassed. Ruing the impending rejection. âIâm sorry Tawny, but I donât have any money today. I keep buying candy in here to just talk to you, but I must talk a lot because I donât have any money left AND they just cut my hours.â
Tawny gives Walter a genuine sympathetic pout and leans forward to pat his arm for comfort. Walter looks at her and can see right through her cleavage down to her skirt. OH GAWD! He LOVED this place! âIs there anything I could like do for you Sugar?â
âOh I wish,â said Walter not taking his eyes off Tawnyâs almost bare breasts. âI would do anything to work here. You guys are so nice and I love candy.â
Tawny giggled.  âYou sure Sugar?! Like that would be great!â Tawny stands and places Walterâs hand on her heart and hugs it while he gets a large handful of soft breast. âDanni and I are busy at the store, but we keep getting hounded for requests for deliveries. People seem excited about sampling our sweets at home. You can satisfy their sweet tooth! What do you say?â Tawny grabs Walterâs hands in both of her hands in a tight hug but waggles her half exposed breasts back and forth feeling herself up.
Walter almost creamed himself when Tawny ground his fingers into her hard nipple but did resist.  âYes. Please yes. Whatever you want. I promise.â
Tawny giggle again.  âOh that like totally makes my day, Sugar. Here.â Tawny retrieves a box of candy from the back room and hands it to Walter. âSugar, you like need to take this home and familiarize yourself with each flavor. Your shift starts tomorrow.â
Walter was too shocked to say anything and left the store and went home. He set the orange and purple box on his bed then opened the lid. There were only a limited amount of candies in the box, buy the variety varied widely.
The first thing Walter picked up was a sour cherry ball. He popped it into his mouth and immediately his lips puckered. Eyes watered a bit but he kept the candy in his mouth like a trooper. The taste was very good, but the sourness puckered his lips terribly. They felt larger, almost swollen. Walter could even see the cherry color got all over his lips turning them a deep luscious red. Tired of the sourness and sucking, Walter tried to bite the candy. Severe pain coursed through his jaw, so he went back to sucking. The candy lasted for nearly 45 minutes with Walter sucking on it. Each suck became more and more pleasurable. Walter would never bite again if sucking was an option. When the candy was finally gone, Walter was sad to find out that was the only sour cherry ball in the box.
Next Walter chose a small wad of pink cotton candy. The sugar almost instantly dissolved on his tongue. The cotton candy tickled his brain, filled it with fun pink clouds. Thinking became difficult, but also unnecessary. Questions like âWho am I? Why am I doing this?â became too difficult and frustrating to form, but other thoughts like âI like candy. Candy makes me happy.â pushed its way to the forefront. Â
Next Walter grabbed the Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light. He pushed the white treat past his cherry red lips only for him to clamp down on his own finger sucking both it and the chocolate sensually. The white milk chocolate melted slowly in his mouth.  The sweet taste tingling his palate only to have that tingling sensation spread. The pleasure drove a b-line to his nipples as they grew hot and needy. Walter quickly shed his top and started rubbing circles around his hardening nipples. The pink cloud prevented Walter from questioning whatâs happening, but encouraged him to enjoy it. Walter bit and sucked on his lip as he moaned and felt the weight of new soft fat filled flesh filling out on his hands. He cupped, pinched and tweaked his own titties turning himself on more and more.Â
The Milky White Chocolate Double-D-Light finally dissolved in his mouth leaving him hungry, but with two handfuls of perky Double D breasts. Walter quickly grabbed two pieces of candy, Cherry Pie and Black Cherry Pie Taffy. Two candies at once was too much for Walter and he came almost instantly while playing with his new soft titties. He took his gooey pants off just in time to see his flacid cock shrink down into a tiny little clitty, then in a quick burst, his hips flared out sexily and a hairless cleft cut though his crotch exposing his cherry pie. The thought was very exciting to her and she clenched her ass and that sent sexual thrills through the new candy girl.
Only one candy left, she grabs the Pink Passionfruit Gummi Bear. A sexual heat coursed through her body. She felt her hair grow and flow down her back. Her face softened and turned into that of a sexy model. Her ass filled out in all the right places and her legs smoothed out and gained sexy curves. Â
Unable to remember who she was, she struggled for her identity. The pink clouds fogging the new girlâs mind, she looked at her bed and saw what brought her such pleasure. Candy.  âI am Candy!â With that epiphany, Candy dropped onto the bed. One hand on her tits and the other buried in her sweet, sweet pie.
At 11 am Candy woke up and showered. As sheâs toweling off, Candy rubs herself to another sweet high. The doorbell rings and on the mat is a package from Tawny. Candy excitedly puts on her new uniform. Itâs all in pink. Pink makes Candy happy. Pink makes Candy horny. Â
She feels ready for work when her phone pings. It is her iCandy App. She doesnât know how it got on her phone, but such contemplation hurts her head. It is a cute fun app. All the letters seemed to be formed from candy and the boxes are all in pink. Pink makes Candy happy and horny. There is an address for a delivery. Â
Candy pouts her lips in confusion and texts Tawny.
Candy - âI like totes have a delivery, but I like donât have anything to drop off.â
Tawny - â~Giggles~ Silly. He requested Candy. Thatâs totally you. Give him ALL your sweets!â
Candy is flush with excitement. -Â âYes boss!â
When she first saw the top in the discount bin she thought it would make a great bed shirt as it was just a little too big in the bust area and itâs not like anyone would see her wearing it anyway.
She took it home and after showering she put it on.
***POP***
Her nails had become long, fake, and pink. A repulsive, almost neon pink âwhat the hell, I never paint my nailsâ
***POP***
There was a soft tink of metal on her teeth. Opening her mouth she saw that her tongue was now pierced âI didnât get this done, whatâs going on?â she looked at it for a couple of moments, evening wiggling her tongue to see if it would come loose. âBet it would feel good for someone Iâm going down onâ she said with a sexy smile. âWhy did IâŠâ
***POP***
âOh my god, where did this cute gloss come from?â sure enough her lips had suddenly become slathered in a coating of pretty pink gloss. They shined and sparkled in the light of the bathroom. This was of course ignoring the fact that her lips had also plumped up and she had a sudden urge to have something in her mouth constantly.
***POP***
Her short, dull, lifeless hair had become long and blonde âI donât know whatâs going on but I love!â A finger found itâs way to her hair and she started to twirl it staring at how cute sheâd become. It wasnât just the lipgloss but the rest of her makeup as well and the tan she was now sporting.
***POP***
She jumped for joy âBoobies!â they were big and round and obviously fake, a tingle of arousal coursed through her body as she caressed them. This became a shiver as she groped them âhmm now I can get any man I wantâ
***POP***
ââŠor womanâ she added with a giggle as her height shot up, her feet now encased in pink high heels
***POP***
âOr bothâ a hand was straying down between her legs and beneath the pink g-string she didnât remember putting on. Then again she didnât remember a lot of things.
***POP***
She barely managed to get to her bed before her legs caved out from beneath her. The impromptu masturbation session was getting to her and she knew it wouldnât be long before she came.
***POP***
But she just couldnât get there no matter how hard she tried. In desperation she reached into her bedside table and pulled out a vibrator and a fresh lollipop. Turning the vibrator on she began to use it with abandon as she stuck the lolly in her mouth to quell the building feeling that it was too empty and needed to be sucking on something.
***POP***
It wasnât enough, she needed more. She started to flick through her phone contacts for someone to callâŠ
***POP***
âlike, cum and get it boys n gurls. This bimbo cumslut is, like, totally ready to fcukâ she posted the photo to instagram with her address. She made the post public so as many people as possible would come and fuck her. She unlocked her door before continuing her masturbation. Thoughts of being the centerpiece of an orgy edging her closer and closer to what she hoped would be a great night.
She was never good in math or in arithmetic. Maybe there was a short time, she tried to be but she stopped her efforts very soon. It was senseless. No joy in it. Not even a little bit. And metrics, she couldn't stand it, or deciphering it, make any sense of it either. This changed a little bit after her first appointment. The doctor talked about cubic centimeters, as in cc, and that 150 cc means a cup size, and that a handful would be one and a half cups. This started her getting into addition as well. It was fun how she got excited about cup sizes and their arithmetic and what DD really means in cc and how it changes her tight frame and how to maximize the effect. It was very easy to convince her to go big after this, and now she is an expert in implant sizes, conversion schemes and bra-cup-measures and advocates her more simple bimbo number system. In her system, a bimbo starts with a D. Being a full-fledged three, she aims now at a four which is still adding for beginners but she loves the undeniable conclusion of it.
Whoa whoa hold up is someone porting all of his old stories? He was one of the first authors I found doing bimbo transformation and Iâd love a revisit for nostalgia purposes
A⊠silicone scented perfume. You know, one thatâd make you smell like a freshly-unboxed sextoy
And⊠you know⊠each spritz staying for longer and longerâŠ
And before you know it, the places where youâve been spritzing it have a strange, delicate sheen to them, as if they were a bit too smooth and delicate. And why do they smell like that? Youâve just showered?
Oh well, you like feeling like a toy, right? You wouldnât have bought that perfume otherwise. So, you continue spritzing and smelling like a sex toy.
Then, one day, you squeeze your boob as youâre edging to some hot porn and it feels⊠strange. A bit harder, maybe? Still soft and gropable⊠just⊠a little less human? And bigger? And⊠mnnnff shinier
Well, youâre not stupid, are you? At least not as stupid as you wish you were. You realize whatâs going on, what the perfume is doingâŠ
And so, you strip naked, take the whole bottle and spritz yourself head to toe. Then you spread, lay down on your bed and wait for the friend youâve texted to come and use your increasingly plastic holes.
You feel the plastic spreading, the natural fat in your tits turning into silicone and growing twice as large. So tight, sitting high up your chest unnaturally,even as youâre laying down. So fake⊠so round and squishable.
Your ass and hips getting filled up, widening to be perfectly grabbable, your lips, your wonderful lips, opening up and filling with the same, soft-yet-unnatural silicone on the inside.
And all of your skin turns shiny and plastic, as desire, sweet lust and desire, overwhelm hunger or thirst, suddenly becoming the only thing on your mind.
You move and writhe and moan, as your new existence as a barely-human sex doll crystalizes and completes, needy, horny, plastic and fake.
A doorbell rings, you jump to your feet, unable to wait on your bed any longer, perhaps surprised at your continued ability to move. You move towards the door, hips swaying and boobs firmly settled in one spot, not jiggling even the tiniest bit.
And as you open the door, the smell of silicone fills your friendâs nose immediately, as they realize just how fuckable and usable you have become. And so they pick you up, silicone being much lighter than flesh after all, and pin you against the wall, as your mind short circuits and turns silicone too.
having 1. more time than you know what to do with 2. being outrageously horny bc you are medically not allowed to cum and 3. being roughly 2% silicone by bodyweight really makes the sexdoll fantasies flourish in my head
"I can't help but notice that you let me tie your wrists together," Michael said mildly, as though they were just discussing the weather and his fingers weren't busily sawing in and out of Aurora's wet cunt. "That's kind of curious, don't you think? I mean, you struggled, yes, but you didn't start struggling until I already had your hands bound and the ropes looped around that little hook on the side of the coffee table. The one you asked me about, Rory. Isn't that kind of curious?" Rory didn't answer. She couldn't, not with a strip of duct tape covering her lips and her panties jammed into her mouth.
"And your clothes," Michael continued, his voice bland and pleasant and yet somehow easily audible over the sound of Aurora's muffled grunts. "I mean, yes, I did cut them off you with a pair of fabric scissors, and yes, you did kind of beg me to stop, but--well, it is kind of interesting that you came over to my apartment wearing the cheapest, most disposable outfit you have, isn't it? And they're all new clothes, too. Almost like you bought them knowing they were going to get shredded and tossed in the trash by the time the night was over." Aurora's brow furrowed as she tried to remember her exact process in selecting her clothes, or even just her reason for the visit, but Michael was finger-fucking her very hard and it made holding onto a train of thought something of a struggle.
"And I mean, it wasn't like you worked very hard to stop me, even with your hands trapped like that," he chuckled, sounding more like he'd just read a particularly amusing joke in Reader's Digest than he did like someone who was pistoning two fingers in and out of his neighbor's sopping pussy. "You didn't yell, even though the walls in this building are pretty thin and someone would probably have heard you, and you didn't kick out at me--you just sort of wriggled and whimpered while I bound your thighs to your calves and tied your legs to the corners of the coffee table to display your cunt to me. What do you think that says about you, Rory, hmm? What does that tell us about where your head is at?"
He lapsed into an expectant silence, one broken only by the sloppy squishing noises of two fingers pumping in and out of a cunt so wet it was dripping onto the floor, but of course Rory could only mewl and whine through her panties so he was forced to continue. "I think it tells me that your deep self wants to be my bound and helpless slut. I think the hypnotic suggestions found something powerful all the way down in the center of your subconscious mind that craves to be dominated, and when I told you what was going to happen the next time you came over you got so wet and horny that you didn't even try to fight it. I think you only forget what happens when you're here because it makes you feel that much more weaker to be surprised by your submission, and you're just going to repeat this surrender again and again for me until you're totally mine. Don't you?"
Rory still couldn't talk. But she could nod, meekly and submissively with her eyes unable to meet his gaze, and that's exactly what happened as she felt another orgasm rip through her brain.
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When my husband first told me that he was into bigger girls, I thought that he was just body positive in a super cool accepting kinda way.
Gaining weight was easy but I was wasn't really into it at first. He sure as hell loved it though and before I knew it, I was up 30 pounds.
He said "It's *only* 30 pounds."
I was like nigga what kinda pork ass bitch you tryna turn me into?
A fat one. It turns out that 30 WAS a small number because after I pressured him about it I found out that he likes BIG girls. Like 600 pounds of couch filling lard mama. It was a thing I learned to work past.
Yeah, well fast the fuck forward 4 years and I'm a full blown feedee pushing 350 because what mister man didn't tell me was that he wasn't just making me bigger, he was turning my body into a giant tuning fork for sexual energy.
Now everything I do feels really wobbly and jiggly and my skin is SO fucking sensitive that if you squeeze my lower belly the right way I might have an orgasm. I'm food addicted as shit so I just wanna eat, and then it feels good so I get horny and ahhhhh what the fuck am I even gonna do with my life??
The descent into depravity is a slippery slope and there's none more emblematic of that, or of someone who embraced her corruption, like Stephanie. It's remarkable to go back and see how resistant she was to her change at the beginning. The boudoir photos were just for her, to help her feel sexy and confident in her skin. When she broke down and got her first implants, she swore up and down that it wouldn't change anything, that she was just doing it to even put her figure. But then the tops got tighter and lower cut, addicted to the rush of her views going up, the attention she got, finding herself embarrassingly and surprisingly aroused by the kinds of comments and attention her new tits were getting her. She had always gotten them to some degree, certainly; there isn't a woman on the internet who hasn't, but she had given them her tacit approval and as the necklines dropped and the CCs went up, there was no going back. It felt too good to be seen as what she was: an inflated fuckdoll, to be passed around at conventions and displayed for the pleasure of others.
One has to wonder if some small part of her knew at the very beginning, if she felt something awaken in her core that, deep down, she knew she'd never be able to resist. Another woman might have started more modestly, boosting her natural B cups to something at least somewhat reasonable, stopping at DDs and being satisfied. But Stephanie didn't. She went immediately for 700ccs, jumping six cup sizes to very obvious H cups. I wonder what her old self would think if she saw herself now, jiggling her tits for her adoring, masturbating fans, showing herself as an airheaded cocksucker. She's more than tripled the volume of her original set of implants, making them spherical and obviously fake to anyone who sees her. The overfilled, cocksucking lips let everyone know that her mouth is meant for sucking cock than it is for talking. It's already not enough for her. Her naturally wide and feminine hips, the ones her fake tits were meant to "balance out", are looking more and more like they'll be enhanced along with the rest of her.
And after that, who knows? Will she be able to stop her greed from dragging her deeper, the addicting thought of ever increasing volumes of silicone and saline? Can she find it in herself to stop craving the attention, the lust she's cultivated and made her career on, the feeling of being big, the intoxicating thought of countless fans touching themselves to her? Can she pull herself out of her descent into trading any semblance of normality for a life of pure porn?
Girl wakes up one morning as a fat bimbo and she fights so hard to hold on to the memories of her old self but she keeps getting distracted by thoughts of skimpy bikinis, ice cream and gangbangs.
  Katrinaâs eyes fluttered between wake and sleep as the alarm on her phone continued its dull chiming. She could just remember her dream. She was running on a beach like she normally did in the early mornings, she didnât get this body by accident. She could almost feel the sand in-between her petite feet and the sweet intensity of her supple thighs as she ran. Like most of her dreams, she was naked, her slim figure had the beginnings of muscle underneath and her flat chest gave the impression of a young gymnast. She loved this kind of dream. She could run forever and never feel a burning in her legs or hear her lungs cry for air. The sun was setting to her left and save for her the beach was totally vacant. All was perfect.
  But one canât have good dreams all the time. As her never-ending run continued she saw a woman laying on the beach in front of her. She looked so familiar but Katrina couldnât place her. She was certainly distinctive enough. Her skin was tan but creamy and her dark hair looked as though it moved according to its own will, unfettered by any sort of wind or gravity. Her eyes drew the most attention though, she didnât have any. The were no sockets with missing parts nor any horrible scars, her skin covered where they should be and her face seemed to just be without them. âI need to eyes to see one so obvious as you, I am only here to enjoy your beach,â she said Katrina couldnât recall actually speaking anything but this figment seemed to need no such input. âPoor thing, your body may not be tired but your spirit is long broken, isnât it? Such fragile things you humans are.â Katrina still recalled speaking no words, and it wasnât often that her dreams were so vivid. âLoneliness seems to enjoy your kind very much. Well, in exchange for this loverly beach, why donât I make a change? Itâll be up to you if you accept it or not though. Regardless, I donât think you or I will meet again. Try to enjoy this little one.â
  The beach had vanished and all that was around was darkness and the irritating chime of her alarm. She clumsily batted her hand about her nightstand. Her movements felt slower and more taxing than she remembered. The alarm quieted and her arm went limp as she rolled onto her back. It might have been the hefty weight she felt on her chest or how much further her arm was propped up on her stomach, but something felt familiarly different about herself. Her eyes were half-lidded as she turned her legs that should have been filled with corded muscle over the side of the mattress. She felt her skin give and tug and pinch in places it shouldnât. Her eyes opened and she expected to see her little feet sitting coldly on the floor, but they were obstructed by a cavernous valley of cleavage and a hill of fat behind them.
  She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she waddled into her bathroom. Her enlarged stomach was in knots and her fingers were pale as they missed the doorknob the first time. When the door was opened and the brightness of the bathroom light left her eyes and she saw herself in the mirror she could see that her mouth was open in a scream but she couldnât hear any sound come out. She looked like a horrible, vapid monster. Her lovely brown hair had become blonde and much much longer than her normal shortcut. Her tits, they could hardly be called anything else now, were obscene. Her old chest wasnât turning any heads but it was her chest and she liked it. These funbags were the size of watermelons and seemed to be unnaturally perky, almost gravity defyingly firm. She encased one of her tits in both of her hands and they truly felt real, how could they be real? she thought. Her hands dropped like stones and struck her ponderous belly. It was as big as both of her tits combined, maybe even larger, and just as soft. She ran her hands across it and watched in the mirror as her digits sunk into her skin. Her eyes watered as she thought about her old stomach, flat and with the beginnings of visible abs. All gone now.
  Her ass, her formerly best feature in her humble opinion, wasnât spared and she turned around to observe the damage. Best to get it all over with, like a band-aid she thought. She almost didnât need to look as she felt her naked ass brush past her tools hung on the opposite wall. She took in a sharp breath as the twin globes came into view. It was massive, easily bigger than her belly. Each cheek was a perfect copy of the other, both the size of medicine balls leading into thighs that could start a fire with the amount of friction they could produce. Her eyes darted all over as she gripped the countertop. Her fat lips were pursed together her vision was tunneling.
  âOh fuck! Keep it together, keep it together. This is a dream, nothing more,â Katrina said in a breathier voice. âI just, like, need to calm down. I should use one of my butt plugs, that always calms meâŠwhat?â That wasnât true. I donât even own any sex toys. Exercise always calms me down. It always has. She said nothing as she continued to study her new face. She hadnât noticed before, but she was wearing makeup. Her lips were a bright pink and her eyes were smokey, her brow was carefully trimmed and her cheeks had color to them. How can I have makeup on? I just got out of bed. She raised a pink fingernailed hand to her lips and brushed their plumpness but none of the lipstick came off. âOh my God, oh my God! Itâs fucking tattooed on! Only whores do that! Like, what the fuck is happening?! I need to get help, I need to, like, call the fire department or something!â
  Katrina felt the heat in her thighs, and other places, as they rubbed together on her walk to her doctor. She made herculean efforts to look nonchalant but she couldnât help feeling the eyes of every person undress her as she walked. Her clothing didnât help at all. Whatever happened to her wasnât just limited to her body. Her closet was filled with G-strings, tube tops, thongs, bikinis, daisy duke shorts. It was impossible to find anything that didnât scream âopen for businessâ, her top was a white t-shirt riddled with holes that had a fine mesh underlay covering the skin beneath. The shirt was a deep v-neck style that left virtually every inch of cleavage exposed to the dry summer air. The shirt did nothing to hide her smooth belly and it sloshed and aver with every step.  Her ass was poured into a pair of daisy dukes, as worn out as her shirt but minus the protective mesh. Each artificial tear felt like it was a mile wide. She wore no panties and no bra, she hoped it was due to the fact that with tits like these it would be crazy expensive. Her feet were still small and petite and she marveled as the five-inch heels held her weight unwaveringly.
  As she walked her nervous gaze refused to stay put. Her hands fiddled with each other under her udders, apparently this new her didnât carry a purse that she could use to occupy them. Instead, she was forced to slip her cards and cash in-between her fat tits. She focused so much on her friction caused by her items hidden in her flesh and the heat coming from between her thighs that the loud rumbling of her stomach caused her to jump. âCalm down, just like, stay calmâ she told herself. âI totally shoulda put in my butt plug,â her hand clung to her mouth as a young couple turned their heads at her comment as she passed. âStop thinking about that junk, those arenât your thoughts. Youâre just like, sick or something.â Her stomach thundered again. âMaybe if I eat something Iâll feel better. Yeah, that can happen. I just need more food in my system then Iâll be fine.â
  Ordinarily, Katrina never paid food vendorâs near the beach no mind. All they ever had was deep fried foods and sugary sodaâs. But as her stomach began to painfully rumble she felt she had little choice. It was still fairly early but there was no shortage of vendors taking advantage and families and beachgoers enjoying the foods. The line was so thick that Katrina couldnât even tell what stand she was headed for. The heat of the sun began to take its toll on her and her creamy skin developed a shine. She absentmindedly rubbed her belly as she stood, for the first time taking note of the smoothness her skin still had. Most overweight people she knew about didnât look this good. She shook her head trying to chase the thought away. âIâm not fat, this all just some sorta allergic reaction to gluten or something. And the clothes areâŠuh, it must be laundry day.â
  She looked around her and saw even more eyes on her fat tits and as she turned her head more still stared at her huge ass. Her eyes teared up again. âThey all must think Iâm so gross.â She thought as much until she saw a young man beside her in another line staring. His gaze was focused solely on her rotund bottom. His skin was flushed and he was readjusting his shorts several times. âWas he getting off on my booty?â she thought. How could anyone like her fat body? He was pretty cute though. She was always on the shy side of things and only ever had a couple of boyfriends. Then her insecurities kicked in and they never lasted long after that.
  âHey, hot stuff? What can I get ya?â she heard coming from her front. She blushed, how long was she staring at that hot guy? She quickly toddled up to the vendor, a young man who didnât look so bad either. âYeah, umâŠwhat do you sell again?â Katrina said blushing at not knowing what he sold. The young man smiled and looked her up and down, âhot dogs and ice cream sweetie.ââOh! I love hot dogs! Do you have any cream filled ones?â Katrina exclaimed. She did like to indulge now and again and she did love cream cheese dogs.âSorry Cutie, Iâve only got the one and it isnât for sale.â Katrina blushed, she had been totally oblivious to her little language faux pas. âIâll take two, and a vanilla cone please.â
  Her stomach refused to stop growling after the first dog but seemed like it was sated a little as the second slid down her throat. The sun was high and she licked her ice cream diligently as she watched the beachgoers. Women in bikinis walked past her, why didnât I wear mine? she thought. I look like such a prude, how can I expect to snare me a coupleâŠNo! No these thoughts arenât mine! Theyâre not! But as she told herself this she felt the dripping of her cold ice cream snake its way into her cleavage. The tingling cold caused her to dance in place as she tried to massage the cold fluid out of her expanse of flesh.
  This drew a sizable crowd of young men around her that she was oblivious to. One of the bolder men drew closer and began popping his hips in Katrinaâs direction, another followed him and soon a dance party broke out around her. Men gyrated into her behind and thrust into her belly. She was assaulted by the sweet smell of sweaty young men and their subtle touches were driving her to distraction. There was so much going on around her, it was so hard to focus. She felt so hot. She felt so needy. A thrust from behind her caused her to fall to her knees. The smell was even stronger down here. She crawled trying to get away from the frenzy when her hand caught on a pair of swim trunks belonging to a young red-headed boy. He frantically tried to recover his nudity, but Katrina was mesmerized. She acted on instinct and swallowed the young manâs cock into her pink mouth. She bobbed her head so vigorously that her breasts, her belly, and her ass jiggled nonstop. The young man was not known for his stamina and he rapidly approached climax. As the first glob of delicious cum struck her throat and made its way into her stomach, Trina was just happy she finally got her cream filled sausage.
âReally, Caleigh? Thatâs what youâre going to wear to the most important dinner of my professional life?â
Caleigh sighed, âWhatâs wrong with this sweater? Itâs cuteâ.Â
Nick was a little on edge to say the least. Tonight, Nick was able to schedule a dinner with Mr. Connor, the President of a booming robotics company. If this went well, he would be the front-runner for the Executive VP opening. Nick had heard the rumours about Mr. Connor; apparently, the guy fancied himself a player. He had no issues with flirting with the wives and girlfriends of his employees. A good looking girlfriend that isnât opposed to a little flirting could go a long way toward helping someone get in Mr. Connorâs good graces.Â
Now, Caleigh was an attractive girl but being flirty wasnât exactly her strong suit. Nick had explained the plan to her: look cute, be bubbly, show a little skin and giggle at Mr. Connorâs bad jokes and play into any advances he might make. Nick even bought Caleigh a new designer dress just for the occasion.Â
âWhereâs the dress I got you?â Nick was trying not to lose his cool with his girlfriend, âI didnât buy you a 600 dollar dress for it could sit in your closet.â
He has a point, Caleigh thought to herself as she took the dress out of the closet. She was beginning to wonder why she even agreed to go through with this, âItâs a little low-cut, donât you think?â They both knew the answer. And short, she continued in her mind, and a little skanky.Â
âJust put it on, please,â Nick was really starting to lose his patience, âThis is apparently the latest and greatest trend in fashion and technology.â Nick pulled out his phone to check the time, âWe have less than an hour to get there. Just do this for me, okay?â
Caleigh relented and put the dress on, âNick, this isnât me at all. Itâs too tight and skimpy. People are going to judge, âshe paused for a second to try and adjust the dress, âand what the heck does technology have to do with this dress?â Caleigh tugged at the bottom of the dress in an attempt to cover herself up.
Nick looked up from his phone, âThisâ. He hit a button on his phone and, all of a sudden, Caleigh was completely frozen in place as if she was put on pause. âIâm sorry to have to do this, babe, but you didnât give me much of a choice. A guy in the R&D department at work showed me this and I had him put it into your dress. You see, there are nanites in the dress that allow me to use this app to make a whole bunch of modifications to both the item and the wearer.âÂ
Looking back at app on his phone, Nick started to alter the dress. He made it even shorter than Caleigh would have ever allowed for the naughtiest of her lingerie; he then added halter straps and a figure-accentuating belt. He also gave Caleigh some large pink hoop earrings and a colourful bangle to show off her soon-to-be new-found playfulness.Â
âThat outfit is perfect,â Nick said to his helpless girlfriend. âIâm not sure how aware you are of whatâs happening but, if you are in there, I am really sorry for what I have to do next.â
Nick switched to the âWearerâ screen on the app and a small image of Caleigh came up along with some character traits. A small part of him felt guilty for this; he knew he could stop now and there would still be a chance that sheâd forgive him but he really needed this dinner to go well. If nothing else, the increase in pay might be enough to buy Caleighâs forgiveness.Â
Nick reasoned to himself that, if he made Caleighâs mental changes first, she might not even remember the physical ones. With that, he began to make his adjustments. The first was to drop her IQ down to 88, which was his lucky number and made her dumb and ditzy enough to giggle at just about everything Mr. Connor said. He then doubled her sex drive and playfulness while also making her as flirtatious as the app would allow.Â
He took another look at Caleigh and was satisfied that, even if she was still in there, the new her would love what was about to happen. Switching over to the âPhysicalâ portion of the app, Nick began transforming his naturally pretty girlfriend into a complete bimbo fuckdoll. He swelled her modest B-cup breasts to cartoonish H-cup tits. He proceeded to inflate her butt as well to give her that Jessica Rabbit-esque look on her already tiny waist.Â
He lengthened her hair enough to ensure it would go down to her ass and added some curls. He then plumped up her lips so much that he was sure sheâd probably end up talking with a lisp. Finally, he changed her eyes to make them look large and vacant. Once he was content with her appearance, he used the app to reapply her make-up with a look fitting for a porn star.Â
Nick looked at the new and improved Caleigh; a version of her that was previously only possible in his dirtiest dreams and instantly felt the front of his pants tighten. He had fantasized about his somewhat-prudish girlfriend becoming a total bimbo, but now his dreams were a reality.Â
âI promise that Iâll fix everything once this is over. And, once I get this job, I owe you one very romantic vacation⊠but, in the meantime, we still have 20 minutes and,â Nick stepped toward the still-frozen-in-place bimbo in front of him, âI think I need to relax a bit before this dinner.â
Nick parted his girlfriendâs lips into an inviting O-shape. In her current state, Caleigh appeared as nothing more than a living blow-up doll. A thought popped into his head to use the app to change Caleighâs name to something more suitable like Cici. He would do that but, first, there was a more pressing need. Nick undid his pants, lowered Cici onto her knees and used his new bimbo like the doll she was. After cumming all over Ciciâs perfectly rounded mouth and wiping it clean, Nick grabbed his phone and unfroze Cici.
âHi baby!! Iâm like soooo excited to go to dinner with you. Do you want me to suck Mr. Connorâs cock? I bet heâd give you the job then!â Cici asked with so much enthusiasm that Nick couldnât help but chuckle. It might not be the worst idea, he thought to himself.Â
On the way to dinner, Nick wondered what Mr. Connor would think of his girlfriend. If she was a hit at dinner, maybe heâd have to change her back like this again. Or, as he glanced at Cici fondling herself in the car, maybe heâd never change her back at all.Â
H- hi... Um... I'm a shy little mousy nerd girl, petite and flat, but I wanna be a sexy bimbo silicone queen so bad!! Big pumped up super fake tits- really huge round globes! Huge ass and hips that are obviously implants, some big fat cock sucking lips so pumped full of silicone that I can't close them all the way, facial fillers to become the ultimate walking personification of a really stupid vapid plastic bimbo... Your writing gets me so hot... Please please help me!! Please!
This is another mashup for Anon here and @maxamillionsaberhagen. Hope you two enjoy it.
  Hmm, Iâm not so sure I believe you, little one. Does my writing genuinely get you hot? Thatâs nice to hear but you never really know if a person means it. I could get any one of my compatriots to do this I suppose. Gale the Jinn would leap at the opportunity, but she would be a little too eager in breaking you in I think. I donât think I even want Paprika hearing about this one. Sheâd change you and then itâll take forever for her to rein it in. Saveta I donât think is proactive enough for this, and with her sense of direction, sheâd take forever to get there. You know what, Iâll just handle this one myself. Itâs not like I donât have the power. But still, Iâm a bit of a self-deprecator and that bit about my writing making you hot just kind of bugs me. Iâd love it if it were true. So I think before I start doing anything, youâre going to need to pass a little test.
  So many people want things, itâs in our nature. But few are really willing to work for it. Thatâs what youâre going to do. I know youâre shy, I understand that very well, so this is going to be quite difficult for you. But nothing worth having is easy. Iâve taken the liberty of perusing your clothing selection, nothing to write home about Iâd say. I mean you donât even have racy underwear for Godâs sake. Well here comes youâre first labor, throw it all out. Everything. I donât want a single piece of your old wardrobe in your house in an hour, and yes that includes what you have on right now. I know going naked is terrifying, but you wont be that way for long. No Iâm not going to magic clothes onto you, that would be too easy. You are going to walk, yes walk, to your nearest lingerie store. Of course people will see you, people are going to see that lean childish body of yours. Donât worry though, no one will call the police or report you. The thought wonât even occur to them. But the will still see you, and thatâs what matters. Do bimbos care if people see them naked? Of course they do! Itâs the thing they love most. What is a bimbo if she covers herself? Thatâs right, nothing. Thatâs it, take it all off. Especially those granny panties, Jeez.
  Alright youâre at the door. I can see the nerves bundling under your skin. I know itâs scary. Seeing all those eyes looking at you, but just remember what youâre doing this for. Youâre doing this to finally be the real you. Thatâs it, grasp the knob. Both hands if you need it. Now pull, and feel that sweet breeze on your skin. Thatâs freedom, for the first time that body of yours can really taste it right? Those nips of yours? Hard enough to cut diamonds if Iâm any judge. It aint even cold out. Oh look, your neighbor is out in the garden. How old is he again, sixty? Well why donât you give him a wave? Thatâs it. Damn, you could see his eyes bug out from space. Now now, donât start covering up. I know itâs embarrassing, but if you canât be proud of your nakedness then thereâs no point in continuing. Good, keep those arms at your side. Itâs a good thing you live in the city, the shop is only about a mile away. Oh yes it is, youâve just never been there before. Donât worry, I think youâll become a real regular. Youâll be on your own from here, I canât hold your hand the whole way or it wouldnât be a test would it? Just remember, one foot in front of the other and youâll be there in no time.
****************************
  One foot in front of the other. Thatâs what keeps playing in your mind as you walk. Ever single pace you hear people gasp, gawking at your gangly form. Every single inch fills your mind with second guesses. The concrete sidewalk freezes your feet in the shade and blisters them in the sun. You walk almost on auto-pilot, focused on the image of yourself as you hopefully go to meet your fate. So far what was promised held true. People gawked and stared, but none drew out their phones and took pictures nor called the police on you. But they can all see everything you had spent your life trying to hide.
  âWhoa! What are you doing lady? This might be a sex shop but you canât just walk in her naked like that!â the young clerk says. She couldnât be more than twenty-one. She certainly dresses like she works here. That skirt is so short it might as well be a frilled belt. Standing next to such a sexual woman before made you feel so intimidated, so small. But I am a writhing mass of tentacles from the darkest pit of the universe of my word, and before you can speak, a sensation comes over your skin and it feels as though cold needles are penetrating your brain. It feels like microscopic tendrils are digging underneath your skin, loosening it. Your thoughts of humiliation and embarrassment dissipate into thin air. Your face slackens and your eyes take on a content peace. The clerk grapes her counter, confused and fascinated as your eyes roll into the back of your head and the writhing under your skin intensifies.
  Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that this should hurt. It sounds like such a far away thought, you can barely hear it. There isnât any pain though, consider it a gift. Every single nerve in your forming body now only serves one purpose. To give you pleasure. The weakest breeze feels like a finger in your twat. The sharpest pain feels like a lovers kiss on your clitoris. Your pathetic breasts begin to heat up and expand outward. The clerk observes with unblinking eyes as perfect globes of flesh push their way out of your pathetic A-cups, almost in defiance of your small frame. Your torso jumps forward as if you were being fucked from behind and more breast is released, then again. Your mouth hangs open. Any thoughts are driven away by the overdose of pleasure sensations every cell in your body is sending to your brain. Your breasts are huge, like two basketball halves, and they bare the same shape. Like perfect, firm bowls made of skin. They were not even attempting to appear real, though there were no visible scars to suggest surgery.
  You start moaning, your tongue strikes about wildly unable to be contained by your slack jaw. Your hands grab your firm, rubbish feeling tits and your knees nearly collide with the dirty floor. The clerk rises just enough to keep your shifting body in view. Her hands practically wore the countertop through as she watches your next phase of your perfection. Your breasts, finally acceptable, freed up some of my tendrils. Now all your changes begin in earnest. Your hips are going to look fantastic. Even now they fill with silicone widening them in such a wonderfully unnatural fashion. And that boney ass of yours is the simplest of all. You reflexively begin twerking as your ass fills out and looks like a filled plastic bag. Your ass is far and away your most noticeable feature now, I wouldnât be surprised if you caused a few heart attacks and car accidents. Now lets fix that face. Those lips arenât suitable at all, itâs a good thing you canât seem to keep that mouth closed. Your thin, unpainted lips surge with collagen. Permanent collagen, by the way. They plump up so much, I fear I may have gone to far. You seemed to have a problem keeping it closed before, but now I believe itâs physically impossible to keep that mouth closed with those lips. Iâm sure you wonât mind though.
  A lift there, a tuck here, and I dare say you look positively adorable. I hope you donât mind that I used Barbie as a model, but then again I donât think you mind anything anymore. Your tongue enthusiastically licks your permanently pink lips, your welcome, and your hands busy themselves supporting your new weight as your grind your fat ass into the ground. Iâd be careful; if you donât play your cards right, you might overdose on pleasure. If such a thing was possible. That clerk is turned on you know. Sheâs a kinky little mink. Pity she canât see me, I so rarely get to play with my creations. Well, I held up my promise, I do hope you enjoy yourself. Not that you can do otherwise anymore. Ta ta.
*********************
  The clerk stared at the crazy exhibitionist, wracking her brain trying to find an explanation for what she just saw. She mustâve been a witch or a magician or something. Yeah, that makes just about enough sense. She mustâve had a camera on her, and she was naked so people couldnât claim it was a suit or something. âHey, uhâŠthat was a cool trick and all, but you canât just hang around naked. Not that I mind or anything, but unless youâre gonna buy somethingâââOMG! Like tots! I wanna buy clothes and junk! Got any rubber stuffs? I got rid of all my boring junk and shit. Can I get a rubber tube top? Prettyprettyprettyprettypretty please?? I donât got like, any money, but you can totally use any of these cool toys on me until I work it off. Like, waitaminute! We should tots do that instead! Pretty please fuck me silly? Pretty please?â
We were waiting for the train and I was being incessantly pouty because he wouldnât let me go to the other side of the city to retrieve a pair of boots I keep at the office. Theyâre super sexy and I wanted to wear them, but we had plans and no time to rearrange our commute. His logic was sound, but being told no still made me feel a wee bit petulant.Â
He tolerated it for a bit, but then he gave me The Look. You know the look Iâm talking about. Itâs also called the Careful, Young Lady look, or the Youâre Pushing It look. Whenever Iâm on the receiving end of it, I get squirmy and immediately feel tiny. I buried my face into his chest. I do that a lot when Iâm in trouble or being chastised; I leaned into him as if snuggles were going to save me from a spanking. I mumbled sorry into his shirt and he said, âsorry, what?â I hesitated, not expecting him to prompt me in public, even though the subway platform was mostly empty. âSorry daddy,â I said. I felt myself starting to throb.
On another day, we were in Zara and I couldnât decide between two tops. I really wanted them both. I help one up, stared at it longingly, and looked at him. âI can have both?â I asked. I expected either a yes or no, but he said, âHow do you ask permission for something?â My eyes widened. The store was busy enough that it wouldâve been easy to be overheard. People pushed past us every couple seconds.Â
âBut weâre in public,â I protested.
The look on his face made it very clear that he didnât care.
âMay I have both, please?â I whispered. He didnât make me call him âsirâ or âdaddyâ, but I still felt like Iâd been reminded of my place.
I got to have both tops.
When he daddies me in public like that, itâs always a pleasant surprise. It pulls me out of whatever distracted headspace Iâm in and anchors me. Goes without saying that itâs hot as hell, too. Iâm still getting used to being mindful of my behavior outside of the bedroom. Itâs not that I forget Iâm his submissive when weâre out and about; I just donât usually make a conscious effort to behave like his submissive when weâre not behind closed doors.
Itâs a good thing, then, that heâs there to remind me of exactly who and what I am.
Heâs there to remind me that, no matter where we are, I remain firmly under his thumb.
Let's play a game where you get to feed me as many drinks and gummies as you want, and all I have to do is act sober. That's it. If I can make it the night without anybody figuring out how fucked up I am, I win! But if someone suspects, then you win. But I'm warning you now, I'm really good at this game. Sure, I can't always quite remember how it ends, but I know I always win!
I do. I drain the glass, hand it back over to you, and rejoin the party.
âDrink,â you say some time later, handing me a shot.
And I do.
âHere,â you say later still, handing me a gummy. I pop it into my mouth before returning to my friends.
Iâm relaxed and floaty. Sure, conversation may be flowing more easily than when Iâm sober, but everyoneâs drinking; surely no one suspects anything out of the ordinary.
You wordlessly hand me a glass as I pass by. I drink it quickly, eager to get back to my friends. Wow, that was strong.
I giggle. Iâm having so much fun! You come over to check on me. Maybe I lean against you a bit too much, but nobody says anything. You drop another gummy in the palm of my hand, and Iâm sooooo stealthy when I pop it in my mouth.
Iâm feeling kinda spinny, but I play it cool. My friends are so awesome; have I told them how awesome they are? You hand me another shot on my way to the bathroom, and I have to pee so bad that I slam it back. Wow, that was really strong! And much bigger than I was expecting. I stumble off to the bathroom and have to hold onto the wall on the way back. I have a massive smile plastered on my face, and I canât seem to wipe it off. Iâm just having such a great time, you know? Nothing to see here!
Words are getting hard, but if I speak slowly and donât talk that much, nobody will notice. See, my friends donât suspect a thing. Theyâre tipsy, too, and weâre all having fun!
Weâre sitting on the sofa now. Why? Well, we were getting tired of standing. Itâs definitely not because I was having trouble staying upright. Sure, I donât quite remember how we got here, but I know thereâs no way I needed help.
You come back over to check on my again. I missed you! Weâre having a great time! You tell me that people are talking about me, saying that I might have overindulged just a little...but there's no way! I havenât had that much to drinkâŠIâm practically sober! If I seem giggly, it's just because I'm having fun with my friends!
You give me another drink, right in front of all my friends. I'm a bit shocked--I thought the whole point was that all these drinks were supposed to be a secret--but hey, since I'm practically sober anyway, I'm sure no one will think twice of it.
It's a super yummy drink, too. I must have drunk it too fast, though, because now I have the hiccups. I'm not drunk, though! You don't have to be drunk to have the hiccups. Well...maybe I'm a little tipsy. Hey, why don't we cuddle a little? Not because my head's spinning or anything, just because...well, I like you.
Suddenly, everyone around us is laughing. I'm not quite sure why, but you tell me that they're laughing at...me? Why would they be laughing at me? I'm stone-cold sober. Yes, even despite the hiccups...and the giggling. I've only had one drink! Ok, maybe two. But that's it!
You tell me that I should prove that I'm sober by going around and convincing everybody. What a great idea! And if the room spins when I stand up, well, that's just because I've been sitting too long.
You take me around to all the guests so I can chat with them. And you know what? They all agree that I'm sh-sober! That means I'm still winning!
I giggle as I bump into a wall. Whoopsie! Was that wall always there?
You hand me another drink because I'm just so sober. It goes down so easy. You always take such good care of me...
Time passes. I'm sitting on the floor. My tits are out. I'm not sure how I got here. Suddenly, youâre standing over me, and Iâm so happy to see you. You help me up, telling me itâs time to go home. You say that thereâs a prize waiting for me for doing such a good job with our little game. I giggle again. I canât wait!
I told this story before on my last intox blog, but itâs a doozy, so Iâll tell it again.
I traveled to the Caribbean not quite 10 years ago with my mom and a group of her friends. One of her friends owned a house out there, and she was âmarriedâ (legally but I think not romantically) to a citizen, so she had a whole network of friends and cousins and friends of cousins out there.
This particular friend of my momâs is a wild one. Even though she was in her 50s, she wanted to go out to the club one night. Of course I wanted to go with, but none of the other moms did. So it ended up being me and her and her husbands cousin and one of his friends, Giovanni.
Giovanni was a hot as FUCK Caribbean dude oh my god, so tanned and muscular. And I was a shy little gringa, but my momâs friend bought me mojitos and got me to turn around and grind on him when we were dancing and cheered me on.
Like five mojitos later, we left the club. My memory is hazy but I know we stopped by a gas station on the way to the beach to buy a bottle of rum. Giovani was driving, I donât think he was sober but I didnât care. We sat on the beach and drank rum and tried to chat but I spoke like 10 words of Spanish and him 10 words of English so we couldnât say much, not to mention we were both drunk. So of course we ended up just making out on the beach while swigging from little plastic cups of rum. Meanwhile my momâs friend was making out with her husbandâs cousin right next to us.
After a while Giovani took me back to his car, I was nonstop giggling and could barely walk. He threw me down in the backseat and started feeling me up. He wanted to get at my tits but couldnât reach up my dress because it was tight. I was too drunk and laughing too hard to explain there was a zipper on the back of my dress.
He fucked me really hard while I giggled like a drunk maniac. Iâve never been stretched like that, it was like eight inches long and thick as fuck. When he was about to cum he pulled out (smart, I had no way of telling him I was on birth control because we didnât share a language, but extremely stupid that I let him fuck me raw no condom like six hours after meeting him).
When he pulled out I immediately slid out of the car and dropped to my knees in the sand to slobber all over his cock sloppy style. He let me finish him that way.
He dropped me off at my Airbnb at like 5am. My mom didnât say anything so I thought I was slickâlike five years later she told me she heard me come in but didnât want to give me a hard time while on vacation. The next day we all went on a hike and I had to pretend not to be still super drunk/hungover. Then we ran into the cousin and Giovani on the trail and we had to smile and exchange pleasantries as though he hadnât turned my drunk pussy inside out for hours the night before.
I still felt the stretch in my cunt two days later when we boarded the plane home.
What are you reading? Words. WOrds? WORDS! age 30 minor dni @stranger224 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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