Enby AFAB brat who can't deny, whether I'm a hot bitch or an FTM twink or in between, my head is made to be empty and my desires sated. Big finance kink! NSFW 18+ ONLY — If you find me irl do not interact without prior consent. If you know me irl please respectfully reach out, cause that's hot (but still obviously we require a convo lol)
The intense craving to have someone befriend me and train me without my knowledge only to one day trigger and drop me, leaving me trapped in my own mind as my body acts on someone elses whim
i’m so high and just thinking about someone talking down to me in the most gentle and kind way is making my cunt flutter. not even a degrading “talking down,” more loving, like an “I know you can’t think so hard right now so let me make my words nice and easy for you” dumbing down.
why is frottage so hottt i just want to rub my pussy along someone's cock until they tell me they're gonna cum and have them press just the head of their cock into my pussy so i can feel their hot cum fill me before they pull out again and their cum drips out of me so i can go back to humping them and covering their cock in cum
Obsessed with the idea of being turned into someone’s kink.
I might not be into maids but you are, so you’re going to make me bouncy and busty and obedient and ready to polish whatever you want. You’re into hucows, so you make me stupid and mooing and milky. You’re into bimbos so you make me stupid and soooo horny.
It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m just a piece of meat to be turned into something that turns you on. A toy to plug a new personality into. So tell me what you want me to turn into
TW: be aware, this work of fiction uses triggers of the B*mbi Sl**p audio files.
Hi hi~ This one can be a little confusing and full of babbles towards the end.
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Laura’s hands trembled as she stared down at the headphones on her desk. For a week she had kept them out of reach, hidden beneath books and scarves as though burying them might bury the pull they had on her. She had deleted the contacts that whispered too close to her name, scrubbed her messages clean of those phrases that twisted her insides into goo. Even her closet looked different now. Pastels folded away, skirts and silks pressed to the back, as if out of sight meant out of mind.
And for seven long days, it had worked. She had almost believed she was free.
Almost.
Restless nights gnawed at her resolve. Every slip of an innocent word in conversation made her pulse quicken, her thoughts tilt toward that single forbidden command: "good girl's listen". The more she tried to forget, the clearer it became.
Her vision swam as she came back to herself, a dazed blur giving way to the weight of the headphones already cupping her ears. She didn’t even remember reaching for them. And there, in her trembling hands, was her phone. Her own reflection stared back at her in the dark gloss of its screen, her eyes hollow pools, lips parted with shallow, panting breaths.
This is wrong, whispered a corner of her mind, desperately. Another giggled and throbbed with desire. That voice felt so much stronger. So right.
In a slow dance her fingers moved across the screen, opening up the oversaturated pink website. Bright, vibrant pinks, pinks that dripped off the screen into the every corner of her mind.
With each tap on her phone her breath grew heavy. It didn't help that her name was plastered everywhere. And each time she read it, it reminded her in sweet, sugary submission. It was her name too. Her true name, not the boring old name. She drifted to one of her favorite playlists.
For one long moment she hesitated. Her finger held in suspense above the play button. She still had a chance. She could stop here. Stop and get out of the pink tight top, the short mini skirt and the seven-inch heels. Then she would remove the thick layers of makeup and return back to being — boring.
Her head spun. It would be so easy. Just one tiny step. She could do it. Yes she could.
Her thumb pressed down. Familiar drones and noises echoed through her ears. A soft whisper wrapped itself around her thoughts. Her eyes fell closed. And Laura remembered the one she needed to listen to tonight. It felt so familiar. She knew the script well. And with the first "Bambi Sleep" her fate was sealed.
Under a crashing wave of pleasure and relaxation everything that defined Laura crumbled. Every last wall and shield and resolve, broke like a sand castle. The Laura of old washed out in one massive wave, and what was left was a form of soft goo, warm and pink. Just like a good girl, a bimbo doll, should be.
The words rolled over that gooey mind, turning it, toying with it. Reshaped by Bambi's words. They pressed down harder, each syllable imprinting in her pliant thoughts, molding, reshaping, until it wasn’t the voice at all she heard, it was her own, as if the thoughts were hers, had always been hers and would always be. It felt so right to listen to this. How could she ever stop listening? Bambi could be so silly.
She giggled at that. Giggled like the good girl she was. Like Bambi wanted her to be. Her head felt warm and fuzzy. Her chest felt warm and heavy in all the good places. Whispered bimbo dolls left her relaxed and calm, hidden inside her pink bubble. Her worries dripped out of her like her brain cells. Her pussy tingled and her lips formed words without even noticing it. Bambi knew what she needed. Bambi helped her feel good.
With her own words her tounge mumbled, "I am Bambi".
Oh, yes. She remembered. How fun! She had a new name now. Not the boring one she had before, no. A name befitting someone like herself, someone who was only worth the sum of their looks and what their pussy and tits could please. Bambi explained it all. And she was Bambi. But there was so much more to her than her name. There were all her favorite parts, the parts she needed, wanted. Her tits, and how big they were. So huge, so fat and heavy and bouncy. Bambi knew that she had to get implants to make them a reality. Big round G cups, because they made her so happy, made her feel so right. And her lips. Her fingers pressed into their soft, squishy plumpness.
Just the touch made her pussy drip, the puffy soft flesh that she had to make as big as possible. Just the thought made her want to wrap them around something long and hard, to use those pretty pink things. Because they were made to be stuffed.
Bambi loved to suck. Good girls were always ready. Good girls were always horny.
And that wasn't even getting to the rest of her body; her smooth skin that felt so amazing in anything and nothing. Her tight waist and bubble ass that swayed side to side when she walked in heels. Bambi's voice kept describing each of her body parts, and with a soft throb she realized those were her parts now. How she looked in her mini skirts, in heels that were seven inches at minimum, the way her tits bounced. Or would. She couldn't remember if her body was already Bambi's body. But it didn't matter. She would do anything to be Bambi. Bambi said so.
Arousal built up in a thick fog inside of her, hot pink cotton that blanketed every inch of her. It soaked into her bones, pooled inside her hollow mind like a hot tub, melting away her worries, her stress, and every single resistance.
Her face split in a wide smile, lips moving as Bambi's words sank deeper. Bambi was safe and secure. Bambi's voice was so important. She was safe and secure, Bambi's words sank deeper inside. Good Girl. That was what Bambi was, and she could become a good girl if she listened well. She nodded along. Of course she could be good, wanted to be good. A good bimbo doll. Nothing else mattered to Bambi. It was so much better being a bimbo doll than be a person. How silly she had been to want to think. There were just so many things she didn't need to worry about anymore. Because she was Bambi. A bimbo doll.
And even as Bambi's voice rolled and rolled around her empty, gooey head, her pussy felt as warm and hot and empty as her head. Bambi's words echoed all over her body, from the tip of her toes, along the arch of her calves and up her soft thighs and inside to her gushing, needy pussy. She wanted to fuck, wanted to cum, wanted her voice to moan out in all the pretty, slutty sounds she knew she could make.
She wanted to spread herself open so someone, anyone would find her needy, helpless body and fuck her silly. Used her, and then fucked her more. Fucked her senseless and stupid. Fucked her full and kept going.
And then it hit her. A fresh wave, her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as everything, every thought, became nothing more than a soft, pliable thing in Bambi's hands.
The headphones stopped playing. Bambi opened her eyes. Her cunt throbbed. A hot, wet, tight need, an empty thing that made Bambi rub her legs together, hoping some kind of pressure could soothe that burning, itching desire.
Giggling she reached for her phone. It could use more pink and glitter, Bambi thought while her hands navigated to a familiar side. Bambi had so much to do. She reserved a date for a boob job, got onto her favorite socials and let everyone know Bambi was back.
Silly old self tried to purge. But in the end: Bambi always wins.
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