Being Bimbo

Being Bimbo

 

 

     Introduction

 

 

Before allowing Brandi to begin this narrative of her life I feel I should inform those who failed to read her previous narrative how she came to be who and what she is. Those who have read her previous book may wish to skip forward. Though there are a few things I may reveal that her fans do not already know.

     My name is John. I own a rather large marketing firm well-known across three continents. I am also a certified hypnotherapist, a skill I learned in order to better understand humanity and those things that make people behave as they do. I learned hypnosis to aid me with my career, but it proved to be fairly useless. Fortunately, as far as Brandi (her name was Michelle) is concerned it proved quite useful in making her the bimbo she is today.

Contrary to popular belief a hypnotist cannot make someone do things they would not otherwise do. In other words, were I to hypnotize you, dear reader, and tell you to disrobe in front of me you would immediately snap back to reality. I could, however, offer suggestions that you would believe providing they are not terribly outlandish. Given time an alternate life or personality could be created. Though, truth be told, there are limits even to that.

 

Now, to me: As long as I can remember I had been jealous of those men who had enjoyed the company of big breasted, empty headed women. In short, I wanted one. That’s where Michelle came in.

When I met her she was a bright, pretty girl. Standing at four feet eleven inches, she had raven black hair, a beautiful figure and a stunning smile. She was also naturally submissive and possessed an extremely emotional and suggestive personality. The latter it was that I found so attractive. I knew immediately that she was the one I could transform into the girl of my dreams.

I am uncertain how long we were together before I settled on my plan. When I did, however, I knew it would work. I also knew it would take a considerable amount of patience. Rushing it would likely wind up with disastrous results, followed by another search for a girl like Michelle. Finding her was difficult enough – a stroke of luck really – and I knew I was not likely to find another who possessed her physical, emotional and mental qualities; and this is where my skills as a hypnotist came in.

The plan was relatively simple, though it did not come to me until the day she told me she loved me. I would convince her we were married, and then lead her to an imagined infidelity. Knowing her emotions as I did I was fully aware that infidelity would lead to guilt; a guilt I would nourish like a mother would a newborn baby. From the very moment I ‘learned’ of her infidelity she was an easily manipulated being, eagerly accepting to any and all suggestions provided while under hypnosis. 

     Among the many things implanted in her mind, the one I am proudest of was the tandem of vibrating sex balls and butt plug. Convinced the balls would vibrate and stimulate her sexually, they led her to a state of constant arousal. It was this, I believe, that truly made her what she is today. Without them, without her constant need and the trance they put her into, I doubt she would have become so thoroughly lost. At least it would not have occurred so quickly.

     There is still a part of Michelle that remains the dynamic, intelligent young girl she once was. This is something I cannot get rid of. Nor have I tried. Instead, I have instilled in her an imaginary corridor with many doors only she can open or close. Each intelligent act, like knowing the answer to a math equation or reading, is accompanied by renewed feelings of guilt and memories of the pain she caused me by her infidelity. To avoid that pain she is allowed to lock that part of her intelligent mind behind one of the many doors in the corridor so it is inaccessible to her. In short, she is willfully dumb. She also speaks very simply, as if she were a three year old. This does crop up in her essay, and I hope you forgive me for not correcting it. I thought it to be quite valid to her story.

     Another thing I should address is her writing of this lengthy essay. Since she cannot read or write I was forced to access a back door, of sorts, to her hidden intelligence. It was, frankly, a difficult and tricky thing to do; and I was forced, time and again, to make adjustments.

     I should also make note of the fact that her story is one of tremendous manipulation. Frequently, I would encourage her to open some of those closed doors to achieve more of my own goals. This proved quite successful, in spite of its difficulty and risk. 

     I should note that I was forced to make severe edits to this essay. While she was capable of writing she was incapable of sounding remotely intelligent. To make it more clear and readable I have edited the story several times. It still suffers, I know. Just the same, I thought it prudent to allow at least some of her simplicity to come through.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brandi’s introduction:

 

 

     My name is Brandi the Bimbo. I used to be someone else, but I hated that person. That person made Daddy and me very sad. That’s why I asked Daddy to make me forget who I was and make me a bimbo. I don’t remember what I did that made us so unhappy. I am glad for that, and I

hope he never lets me remember the things that made us unhappy. I am happy not remembering. I am happy being dumb and not being able to think for myself. It is bliss.

     I am five feet eleven inches tall. The hair on my head is black and long. My eyebrows are black, too. I have no hair anywhere else on my body.

     My bimbo tits are huge. Daddy says they are like beach balls. When I am on my hands and knees my bimbo tits touch the ground. I like that and so does Daddy. I also like that the nipples on my bimbo tits were taken away. I have tattoos there instead. I like it because it makes me look like a sex doll. I think a bimbo should look like a sex doll.

     My cock sucking lips are so big I can can’t talk. But they aren’t like normal big lips. They are big from the inside, not the outside. They look like small inner tubes on my cock sucker. When I open my cock sucker as wide as I can there is only a small hole. It hurts every time I suck Daddy’s cock. That’s how small the hole is.

     I do not have a clit anymore. Daddy took it away. I wanted him to take it away so I could be smooth like a sex doll. I like looking like a sex doll. I wish I could be a sex doll. That way I wouldn’t have any thoughts at all. Thinking makes me sad.

     Daddy told me to tell you all that. Now, he says that I should tell you about my life since he made me forget everything. I will do my best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

    

     The night after Daddy made me forget everything he took me out to dinner and shop. We had a very nice dinner, saw a movie and bought some clothes. He even took me to the Santa Monica pier where we rode the Ferris wheel and road the roller coaster. It was a fun night.

     That night, after we got home, Daddy took me into the bedroom and sat down on the bed with me for a long talk.

     “Do you really like being a dumb bimbo?” he asked me. “Do you like not being able to think for yourself?”

     I was sitting naked on the bed, my big bimbo tits testing on my thighs. I tried to smile, but my lips would only move so much. “I like it a lot, Daddy,” I told him. My lips were smaller then but I still had trouble pronouncing words.

     “Do you remember telling me you wanted to forget who you were before you became a bimbo?” he asked.

     “Yes, Daddy,” I said. “I don’t want to remember. I want to forget. She hurt you, made you sad. I wish I could forget everything about her.”

     Daddy frowned at me. “Yes she did. But you make me very happy. I love your tits and lips. I love how big your ass has gotten since you started exercising. You look beautiful this way.”

     I giggled. “Thank you, Daddy. I’m glad you like me this way.”

     “You’re welcome,” he said. Daddy flashed a big smile. Then he frowned. “I want to help you forget who you were before. Would you like that?”

     I nodded at him. “I would, Daddy. Can you help me forget more?”

     “Tell me, do you remember her name and what she was studying in school?” he asked.

     “Yes, Daddy,” I said, frowning as much as my lips would allow. “Her name was Michelle and she was studying kinesiology.”

     “Do you remember what kinesiology is?” Daddy asked.

     I nodded again. “It’s the study of…”

     “I’m going to help you forget,” he interrupted.

     Then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t remember her name or what she did. I couldn’t remember anything about it. I remember blinking and wondering how I could forget it so fast. But I was glad I couldn’t remember it. Daddy smiled at me as I looked at him blankly, wondering how I could forget something so fast.

Then he asked, “Do you remember what her name was or what she was studying now?”

I shook my head. “No, Daddy. How did you make me forget so fast?”

He simply smiled. Then he held up a piece of paper. “Do you know what this is?”

I stared for a moment. It was a simple math equation. “Yes, Daddy, I do.”

Then, all at once, I was filled with a terrible sadness that was overwhelming. Only an instant later I looked at the equation and could make no sense of it. It was gibberish. I remember, at the time, thinking how strange it was to know something, to have it make sense and then, only a moment later, for it to be a complete mystery. Still, the fact I could no longer make out the writing made me happy.

“What is it, Brandi?” Daddy asked.

I blinked. For a long moment I tried to remember what it was. Then I shook my head, confused. “I can’t remember.”

Daddy smiled. “Good girl,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed me. “You’re becoming a wonderful little bimbo, Brandi. Do you like being dumb?”

Suddenly I was filled with excitement. The thought of being dumber filled me with bliss, and I told him so.

He held up another piece of paper. It had another equation. The overwhelming sense of sadness returned. A moment later it was gone, replaced with a sense of happiness and wonder.

“How are you doing that, Daddy?” I asked, giggling. This time I didn't question the oddness of the moment. I embraced it.

“That’s Daddy’s secret, my lovely little bimbo.” Daddy smiled and kissed my forehead. “But you should know, the dumber you are, the happier I will be.”

“Does it really make you happy that I am dumb?” I asked. I felt dumb for asking and that made me happy.

“It makes me very happy, Brandi,” he told me. Then he leaned forward and hugged me, kissing my inner tube lips. “Do you know that some bimbos are so dumb they can’t read or write or do math? Do you know that some bimbos can only think of sucking cock or fucking?”

In that moment I was as turned on as I could ever remember. The thought of being so devoid of intelligence that I could only think of sex was beyond wonderful. I wanted it, needed it. The thought of it simply drove me out of my mind.

“I want to be that kind of bimbo, Daddy!” I exclaimed. “Please help me be that kind of bimbo. That way I can make you happy. We can both be happy. I can fuck you and suck you all day every day!”

Daddy smiled at me. Then he asked another question. “Do you remember my name?”

“Your name is John,” I told him. The sadness was nearly overwhelming. Then, as with the equations, his name evaporated from my memory and all was well. I was happy and excited; and I knew I had, somehow, lost another part of the intelligence I once possessed.

“Here,” he said, holding out a magazine. “I want you to read this.”

Happily I took the magazine from his grasp. The first words brought me a terrible wave of sadness that was instantly replaced by blissful happiness as my comprehension diminished. Never had I felt such a mix of emotion. But when I was done, an hour later, and in spite of the tears coating my face and dampening the pages, I was happy as ever I could remember.

“What was in the magazine?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Daddy,” I told him. “At first I understood everything. But the more I read the less I understood.”

Daddy smiled at me and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“At first I knew all the words. But then, the more I tried to read the less words I understood,” I told him. “By the end I only understood a few words.”

He told me to show him a word I understood. But when I opened the magazine to show him it all looked the same. Nothing looked like what I read. It was gibberish.

“How does it make you feel that you can’t read this magazine?” he asked.

I thought a moment as I stared at the magazine. Then I looked at the magazine, thumbed through it and smiled. “Did I get dumber, Daddy?”

Daddy reached out and stroked my hair. “Yes, Brandi, I think you did.”

I straightened myself up and tried to stretch my lips into a smile, overwhelmed by a sense of pride and happiness. Never did I think to question it. There was no negativity and no sadness. I was simply happy.

“You’ve been a very good girl, Brandi,” he told me, patting me on the head. “Now I think it’s time you were rewarded.”

I let out a happy squeal and leaned in to hug him. “Does that mean you’re going to fuck my ass or face, Daddy?”

“Yes. In fact, you have done so well I will even let you be my pee toilet,” he said with a smile.

In spite of my disdain for such use I was utterly filled with pride. I had earned the right to be his pee toilet. It excited me, filled me with happiness and reinforced my place as his bimbo. Why, I have no idea. I only know I looked forward to this use as never before.

 

Standing naked in front of the mirror, I stared at my reflection. The perfect woman I was not. Instead, I was an overblown caricature of the perfect woman. My tits stood out from my body like overripe melons and my lips, parted slightly in the middle, were barely useful for speech. Yes, I was an hourglass in shape. But the hourglass was mismatched; and I was proud of it.

Standing behind me was Daddy, his hands resting on my hips as he towered over me. “I like your stripper tits,” he told me. “They’re so big and firm and beautiful. I’m glad you got them.”

I nodded stupidly. “These aren’t bimbo tits?”

Daddy shook his head as he reached around to fondle my breasts. “No, they’re stripper tits. Bimbo tits would touch the ground when you’re on your hands and knees.”

I nodded sadly, upset that mine were not bimbo tits.

“I like your porn star lips, too,” he said with a smile. “I like how much trouble you have speaking and how they always look like you’re ready to please me.”

I was sad. I thought my lips were bimbo lips. I tried to imagine what bimbo lips would look like but my imagination lacked.

“What would bimbo lips look like?” I asked.

Daddy reached up with his right hand and pushed a finger into my mouth. I sucked slightly.

“Bimbo lips wouldn’t have this little part in them,” I was informed. “You wouldn’t be able to pronounce words. You could only suck cock and giggle. You wouldn’t be able to eat like you can either. Instead you would have to eat through a straw; and it would hurt when I fucked your mouth.”

“It used to hurt,” I pled. “It still hurts sometimes.”

“No, it would hurt all the time. Like when I first started fucking your ass, but not as bad,” he informed me. “Your lips would be tighter when they were wrapped around my cock.”

     I felt terrible. It was as if someone had punched me in the gut. I determined then that I would get big, bimbo tits that dragged the ground. I determined I would go back to Doctor Watanabe and get bimbo lips that hurt when he fucked my mouth. I would be a perfect bimbo.

     He turned me around and pushed me to my knees, began removing his clothes. Naked, he held his flaccid cock to my lips so I could suck it into my mouth. Then came the first trickle or urine. It was sweet and refreshing, and I gulped it down greedily and was happier for doing so.

     “How was it, my little bimbo bride?” he asked, pulling his cock from my mouth.

     I had forgotten that I was his wife. Remembering I was filled me with happiness.

“It was wonderful, Daddy,” I told him. “It tasted different than I remember.”

     “Did it taste good or bad?” he asked.

     “It was delicious!” I told him, never thinking to question, never wondering or even caring. It was simply delicious. “Can I have more?”

     He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have anymore,” he said. “Maybe later.”

     I pouted. “Promise?”

     “I promise,” he said affectionately.

     He got into bed and told me to get into bed too. Then he told me to get between his legs and suck his cock into my mouth. “I want to get hard in your mouth,” he said.

     Happy and excited, I got into bed between his slightly spread legs and sucked him between my lips. Before long I felt his cock come to life, expanding to fill my mouth and then grow into my throat. Slowly he began to thrust. Serving my purpose excited me and filled me with happiness.

     “You’re a good little cock sucker – almost the perfect bimbo,” he told me.

Sad that I was not the perfect bimbo yet, I continued to suck him. His hand was on my head now, holding it down as he thrust into my mouth and throat. Then he ordered I release his cock and crawl from between his legs to the edge of the bed.

     Daddy got behind me and slapped my ass. He told me how nice my ass was, how big it was and how much he liked fucking it. Then I felt his cock at my ass hole. Immediately I pushed back. I wanted him inside me. I needed him inside me. I was his bimbo and that was the hole bimbos get fucked in; and I desperately wanted to be fucked.

     “I’m going to let you cum this time,” he told me.

     Excited, I never noticed that I hadn’t been plugged. Nor did I notice that my pussy wasn’t filled with the vibrating balls that made me so horny. I simply enjoyed being his bimbo fuck toy.

     I glanced at his clock on the bedside and was immediately filled with sadness that was immediately replaced by a sense of bliss. I couldn’t read it, had no idea what time it was.

     He fucked my ass. He fucked it hard. Then Daddy slapped my ass hard and made me scream. As soon as my scream died I climaxed hard.

     “Turn around,” I was told. Soon as I turned he impaled my face on his cock and fucked my face. Then he pulled back and groaned as he came.

     I looked at him and tried to smile around his cock happy that I had pleased him. Only when given permission did I swallow his cum; and when I did I was almost sad. The taste, like his urine, was sweet. I wanted to savor it, enjoy its texture. But I could not tell him so at that moment. Nor did I want to disappoint. So I swallowed.

     I looked at him, baffled by the flavor of his semen. “That tasted different too, Daddy. How come?”

     “Did it taste good?” he asked.

     I nodded.

     “Bimbos like how cum tastes,” he said simply. “You must be getting better at being a bimbo.”

     Accepting this happily, I gave him a big hug. I told him how happy I was. Then I asked, “Does that mean it will taste better when I get dumber?”

     He nodded and smiled. Then he lay down in bed and covered himself. I snuggled against him and told him I was happy about that. I told him I wanted to get dumber and asked him to help. He said he would help. Then he turned off the light.

     “Brandi?” I heard in the darkness.

     “Yes, Daddy?”

     I waited quietly for a moment. Then I heard him ask, “What’s two plus two?”

     I started to answer. Just like that I felt horribly sad. Then I felt happy when the answer eluded me. “I don’t know, Daddy.” I didn’t even know the meaning of the question anymore.

     He quizzed me for several minutes. Each time it was the same. The question was understood, the answer known. Each time I felt sad. Then as the answer and question was forgotten I felt happy. I didn’t know why. I didn’t question it. I simply accepted it.

 

     Over the next several weeks Daddy worked with me, having me read things and add and subtract. Sometimes he would tell me words and their definition. All of that made me very sad. But the moment I forgot them I would be very happy.

Before long I was speaking like a little girl who only knew basic words. He told me that was okay, and that bimbos only know small words. Then he praised me for being so dumb. That made me happy, too.

I became a regular pee toilet for Daddy, too. Each morning before he left for work I would kneel before him in the bathroom. There I would suck his cock into my mouth while he shaved or brushed his teeth. Then he would pee in my mouth, and I would swallow every drop. I enjoyed it. I loved how it tasted.

When Daddy was gone I did my exercises, cleaned the house as I was told. Then I would sit on the couch and stare into the television. I didn’t turn it on. I didn’t know how. Somehow I forgot. But I didn’t mind because it meant I didn’t have to think, and I liked not thinking. Thinking was hard. It made me sad and hurt my head.

During that time I was rarely plugged. I didn’t care or notice until one night when he took me to the house of one of his friends. That night, before we left, he had me kneel in the living room so he could put the pee tube in my ass. Then he pissed inside my ass and plugged me. Then he told me about his plans.

“We’re going over to see one of my friends,” he told me. “There will be a few people there and I want you to behave like a good bimbo.”

I promised I would. Then I thanked him for peeing in my ass and plugging me.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised. “But tonight is going to be a bit different than other times. They don’t have bimbos, and they are curious to see one. So you have to be on your best behavior.”

“I will, Daddy,” I promised.

He asked me a few questions that made me sad and then happy. Then he dressed me in a black thong, bright red PVC skirt and top that bared my belly, and a pair of six inch PVC stilettos. He gave me a black OVC clutch to carry with me, too. Truly I felt like a bimbo; and my reflected image verified how I felt.

The entire ride over to his friend’s house I was sucking on Daddy’s cock. When we arrived he pulled me up and smiled at me. “Be a good bimbo for me. Only talk when you are spoken to,” he told me.

I nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”

We were greeted at the door by a tall man with wavy blond hair named Stephen. Daddy and Stephen gave each other a friendly handshake. Then he introduced us and told him I would be their entertainment for the night. I smiled, not knowing or caring what he meant.

When we got inside Daddy introduced the other men to me. There was a man named Burt and another named Dave. Then I saw that our friends Ben and Tommy were there. I didn’t see Fujiko or Tomiko.

“Where are the girls?” Daddy asked Ben and Tommy.

Ben and Tommy smiled at each other. “We were rather inspired by you,” Tommy said, taking the lead. “Our girls are back in Japan. They just had a visit with Doctor Watanabe and are getting boobs that rival Brandi’s.”

“Making them into proper bimbos?” asked Daddy. Then he turned to me and smiled. “Looks like you will have competition for bimbo of the year.”

I smiled and nodded, but I didn’t understand what he meant.

The men ate dinner and talked while I sat and watched. Then, after they ate I was told to go to the bathroom, empty my ass and put the plug in the clutch. I smiled and did as I was told. Then I joined them in the living room where they had been talking business.

As I sat on the couch beside Daddy he looked at me and smiled. “Do you like dancing?” I was asked.

I nodded. “Yes, Daddy, I do.”  

“Good. Most bimbos like to dance,” he told me. “Would you like to dance for me and my friends?”

I looked about the room. Tommy and Ben were seated on a couch across from the one Daddy and I were on. Stephen and Dave were in large reclining chairs.

Confused, I asked, “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” he said. Then he turned to Stephen. “Let’s go. We can finish up at the club.”

 

When we entered the club I had no idea what was to happen. Then, as we sat at a table near the stage, Daddy told me. It was amateur night at the club and he wanted me to dance.

Shocked, I stared at Daddy for a long time as he explained to me how he wanted me to watch the strippers on stage. “Pay attention to how they do it,” he said. “Then show them how a bimbo does it.”

Shocked, and utterly unsure of myself for the first time in weeks, I stared at the women as they danced on stage. Words of protest came to my mind as I watched them prancing and gyrating, swinging on the stripper pole and baring their bodies for the audience. As quickly as those words came to me they vanished into the ether. Then came the announcement. It was my turn to go on stage and perform for the men.

The bimbo in me retreating, I looked at Daddy and begged him not to make me go on stage. Never had I done something so degrading, and I told him so. Then he reminded me of those things I had done, how I acted as his urinal and sucked his cock in front of others. “Be the bimbo,” he yelled above the din. I blanked out at his words. Suddenly I was the bimbo again.

I was in the wings as the music started torn as to what I should do. I did not want to dance, to strip and debase myself for an audience of men. I was not some sort of plaything, after all. I was a woman. Then I glimpsed myself in a nearby mirror. No, I was not a woman, I was a bimbo. Then I stepped into the lights and was overcome by humiliation and sadness. This was not me. I was not a stripper. Then I tripped over myself and looked down at my feet. But I could not see them. I could only see the tremendous cleavage of my bimbo tits. Suddenly I was a happy bimbo again - a play toy, a thing for the pleasure of men.

The music began and I started dancing. I smiled to the best of my ability and shook my enormous tits for the crowd. The crowd’s reaction was instantaneous and it spurred me on. I ground my hips into the air imitating the girls I had seen before me. Then I took the poll in hand and ground against it, shaking my tits on either side. I licked the pole, ground against it, climbed it and then spread my legs as I flung back my head and slid to the stage floor.

Then I heard the phrase “Be the bimbo,” and I realized I was near Daddy. I looked at him, at his smile, and then I looked at the crowd. They were cheering me, demanding to see my tits.

I stood and flung my head about as I removed my top. The audience cheered again. I shook my tits, held them with my hands and forced them to my mouth so I could lick them. Again the audience cheered. I smiled and cheered them on as I had seen the other girls do. Then the music stopped, I gathered the many pieces of paper money as the other girls had done and then ran off stage.

Without dressing I ran to Daddy’s side carrying my clothes. He put me on his lap and smiled, telling me how proud of me he was. Then he whispered something in my ear and I felt a wave of happiness wash over me.

“I’m glad I’m your bimbo, Daddy,” I told him.

“Get your clothes on, Brandi,” he said. “We’re going home.”

Men came by and complemented me on my performance as I dressed. Daddy thanked them for me as I smiled dumbly.

 

The ride home was a blur. I know I sucked Daddy but I can’t remember it. Everything was all mixed into a jumble of memories that quickly vanished into thin air. For the first time in my life I was truly empty headed. There were no thoughts. Even my actions were without thought. I was like an automaton.

 

“Did you enjoy dancing?” Daddy asked.

We were in the bedroom. I looked at my naked reflection in the mirror and forced myself to think. Had I enjoyed it? I couldn’t’ remember.

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Daddy.” I knew I had danced, but I couldn’t remember any of it.

     “Why not?” he followed.

     I tore my eyes from the mirror and looked at him. “I don’t know, Daddy. I just remember that I danced.”

     He smiled at me. Then he told me what a good girl I was. He said that it was all right that I couldn’t remember. “Bimbos don’t have much of a memory anyhow,” he informed me.

     I blushed, blissfully happy. “I’m glad, Daddy. I was worried you were going to be mad at me for forgetting.”

     He shook his head. “No, Brandi, the more you forget about your thoughts and emotions the better. It’s one thing to look and act like a bimbo. It’s another thing to actually be a bimbo.”

     Confused, I stared at him for a long moment. “Does that mean I’m not really a bimbo?”

     Daddy laughed. “No, you are a bimbo. But you aren’t a perfect bimbo. Not yet.”

     I was sad suddenly. “What do I have to do to be a perfect bimbo?”

     “Do you remember when you first came on stage, and how you stopped a second before going all the way out?” he asked.

     I thought for a moment. Then I remembered the moment, remembered the emotional conflict within. “Yes, Daddy, and I’m sorry.” I bowed my head, ashamed.

     “What were you thinking when that happened?”

Staring at my naked tits I told him what I had felt. I told him all the emotions that had filled my soul and how I had recovered myself to be the bimbo. Then I tried to frown. “I hate when I forget I am a bimbo. It makes me sad, Daddy,” I said.

     Daddy came over to where I stood and kissed me on the lips. “Once you don’t have thoughts like that you will be a perfect bimbo.”

     “I want to be a perfect bimbo,” I told him. “Please help me.”

     “I will; and I will start by giving you a short list of what a bimbo is and how she should behave, Brandi,” he began. “First of all, bimbos should never think for themselves and should always do as they are told.”

     “I can do that, Daddy,” I exclaimed.

     “Bimbos should always think of themselves as living sex dolls. They fuck and they suck. That’s what they are made for,” Daddy continued. “Finally, they fuck and suck whomever they are told to fuck - even strangers.”

     I had never thought of fucking anyone but Daddy. But it made sense to me, especially if they were living sex dolls. Happy with what I had learned I tried to smile. Then I asked if I could make him cum. He nodded and smiled back at me. Then I was ordered onto the bed.

    

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

 

     A few weeks later after Daddy got home from work he told me we were going to Japan. He had some business to conduct and we were going to see our friends. Then he put his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it.

     “This is for you,” he said, giving me a small jewelry box.

     Ecstatic, I opened the box to see the word ‘Bimbo’ in gold attached to a matching gold chain. Overcome by joy and instantly light headed, I flung my arms around Daddy’s neck and smothered him in my tits. “Thank you, Daddy,” I cried. “It’s beautiful!” Then I ran into the bathroom and put it on.

     “Why are you crying?” he asked upon my return.

     I tried as hard as I could to smile, but I knew my lips wouldn’t let me. “I’m crying because I am so happy, Daddy. This is the first time you gave me jewelry besides my engagement and wedding ring.”

     “Well, it is our anniversary,” he said. “I had to get you something.”

     I looked at him and tried to think what day it was. I didn’t know. Suddenly sad because I didn’t remember I apologized for not remembering.

     “It’s okay, Brandi,” he soothed. “Do you even know what day it is?”

     I shook my head.

     “Do you know how long we’ve been married?” he followed up.

     I shook my head again.

     “Good. Bimbos shouldn’t know those things. They should be simple, empty headed fuck dolls for their owners,” he told me. “I would have been disappointed if you had remembered. This shows how far along you have come.”

     I tried to smile again. “Oh, I’m so glad,” I exclaimed. My sadness was quickly forgotten, replaced with a sense of pride. “I so want to be a good bimbo for you.”

     “I know, baby,” he said. “And you are a good bimbo. You still have a way to go, but you are doing very well.”

    

     That night he took me to a sex shop. We weren’t going to buy anything, we just looked at stuff. Then Daddy found a blow up doll in a giant box that had my name on it. He showed it to me and made me smile.

     “How come I can read the box, Daddy?” I asked. Then I wondered about my necklace. “How come I can read the necklace?”

     Daddy laughed. “You can read your name, silly. All bimbos can read their name.”

     “Is bimbo my name?” I asked.

     He laughed again. Then he had me follow him to the checkout desk where he asked the clerk for a pen and paper. “Can you read this?” he asked, holding the paper up to me.

     I nodded. “Brandi the Bimbo,” I said aloud. “That’s my name?”

     Daddy smiled at me and then laughed. “Well, your full name ends with my last name. Do you remember what it is?”

     I shook my head as I struggled to remember. “No, Daddy, I don’t.”

     “It’s Ramsey. So your name is…?”

     “Brandi the Bimbo Ramsey!” I exclaimed. I ignored the clerk behind the checkout area who was rolling his eyes and grinning. I didn’t know why. “Oh, I’m so happy.”

     We walked back to where the box with my name was. “I think I’m going to get this. What do you think?”

     I stared at the box excitedly. “Yes! I think you should. I like that she has my name.”

    

     When we arrived home Daddy struggled to get the doll off the top of the car. It was very heavy and very big. I tried to help but it was hard because of my high heels. So I let him do it by himself.

     After the doll was out of the box I stared at it. She had big tits and full lips, but not as big as mine. Like me, she had no hair on her pussy. But I was secretly disappointed. Bimbos have bigger tits and lips like me. She was only pretending to be a bimbo.

     “You should dress her like you, Brandi. That way it will be like you have a sister in the house…someone you can talk to,” Daddy told me.

     “Daddy?” I asked, doing my best to hide my disappointment. “Do you think we can get her bigger tits and lips like mine? She looks so…ordinary.”

     He looked at me and smiled. “I don’t think we can do that with her. But I might be able to get one that has bigger tits and lips. Would you like that?”

     I clapped my hands together and cheered. “Yay! I would really like that, Daddy.”

     “Take off your clothes. I’ll be right back,” he told me.

     When Daddy came back he had me stand in front of the front door. Then he took pictures of me. He took a lot of pictures. Some were close up and others were from further away.

     “I think that’s enough,” he said. “Come with me.”

     I followed him into the den and was told to get under the computer desk and suck him. Pretty soon he told me to stop sucking him, and then he rolled his chair back. I didn’t know what he was doing until he told me he had ordered a bimbo doll that would look just like me. It should be here in about two months,” he told me. I smiled and thanked him.

     That night he put the doll in his closet and said I would never have to look at it again. But I did; and over the few weeks before we left for Japan I would sit on the bed and stare into his open closet silently chastising her for not being a proper bimbo.

 

     It was raining in Japan when we arrived. Quickly we caught a cab and headed to the hotel where we were staying. Wet and cold we hurried to our room and got out of our wet clothes. That’s when I saw myself; and I was instantly mortified.

     My make-up, my perfect bimbo make-up had run all over. I looked hideous and I was mad at Daddy for not telling me about it. Crying and upset I yelled at him. “How can I be a perfect bimbo with my make-up all runny like this?” I demanded to know. “You have to tell me when it gets like this.”

     Daddy took me in his arms and soothed me. “Tell you what,” he said, his voice soft and soothing, “I will make an appointment with Doctor Watanabe and get you permanent make-up. How does that sound?”

     I looked up at him and smiled. “Do you mean it?” I asked, excited at the thought.

     “We can go in and do the digital model and you can get it done however you like it,” he told me. “But first we have to see our friends. I have some business to discuss.”

     “Will Tomiko and Fujiko be there, too?” I asked, suddenly excited and filled with happiness.

     “You can even go shopping with them and get some new clothes,” he told me. “Maybe you can get some ideas for your make-up, too.”

     “That would be wonderful!” I exclaimed.

     Daddy smiled. Then he ordered me into the shower. “I want to have some fun with you,” he said, slapping my ass as I passed him on the way to the bathroom. “Then we are off to meet our friends.”

    

     Soon as we entered the bathroom Daddy turned on the hot water. Then he took me in his arms and told me he was proud of me. I giggled, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. We hadn’t been intimate like this in a long time.

     After kissing me deeply he turned me around and had me bend over. “I’m going to fuck you blind,” he told me.

     I giggled and bent over, awaiting his cock’s entry in my ass. “Fuck me, Daddy,” I whispered in the foggy room.

     He ordered me to reach back and spread my ass. Immediately I obeyed, and for my efforts I was impaled immediately. The pain was terrible and made me scream. But he did not relent. He never did. He simply pounded into my ass, reminding me that I was his fuck toy.

     “I love your fuck hole,” he growled into my ear. Then, with jackhammer thrusts he began a rhythmic pounding into me.

     As the moments passed and his thrusts became less violent the pain was replaced with a numbness of body and soul. I was his bimbo, a fuck toy. I was serving my purpose; and I was happier for it.

     “Suck me,” he demanded as he pulled from my ass.

     I turned and knelt before him, waiting for him to fuck my face as he had my ass. Then he placed his cock at my mouth and shoved it in. Stretched suddenly, my lips felt as if they were on fire and I let out a muffled scream.

     Daddy put his hands on my head, grasping me by the hair. “I love that your mouth feels so much like your ass,” he told me. “I love that it hurts every time I fuck your face.”

     Tears of pain fell from my eyes as he fucked my mouth. Part of me wanted him to stop. Another part couldn’t bear the thought of him stopping. So I held my throat open, suffered and cried as he used me.

     “I like that word for your asshole,” I heard him say. “From now on your asshole is your fuck hole. Understand?”

     I grunted in affirmation. Then he came.

     With his cock in my mouth he demanded I look up at him. He ordered me not to swallow, telling me he wanted his cum to flow naturally into my stomach. “Bimbos don’t need to swallow,” he told me. Then he pulled his cock from my mouth and rubbed it over my face.

     Blinking, I waited for instruction and fought the urge to swallow. Only when I coughed was I allowed to do so; and I was grateful for permission.

     “You did well,” he told me. “You really are becoming the perfect little bimbo.”

     I thanked him. Then we stepped into the shower and washed. Then, after our shower, Daddy dressed in a black, pin striped suit, while I wore a low cut, navy blue pencil dress made of leather.

     Daddy gave a whistle as we stepped out the door. Then he slapped my ass and told me how beautiful I looked. Proud, I minced down the hallway with my arm wrapped around his.

    

     We met our friends in a small restaurant with an American décor. The men were dressed in suits and looked very handsome. Both men greeted us warmly, giving a handshake to Daddy and a warm hug to me.

     As we sat down Ben told me the girls were freshening up. A few moments later I saw them; and they were almost unrecognizable.

     Shortly after taking seats opposite me, and while I stared at the girls, Daddy congratulated them on their appearance. Both bowed their heads and made some unrecognizable sound.

     “You’re welcome,” Daddy told them. Then he turned to Ben and Tommy and asked, “So, what all did you have done?”

     The two men looked at one another and grinned. Then Ben told Tommy to go first.

     “As you can see we had their lips done like Brandi’s,” he began. “They’re a little bigger, I think.”

     Their lips weren’t bigger. They were shaped differently, like tiny bows with no gap between; and their mouths were narrower, too, making their lips seem fuller than mine. I wanted those lips. They were beautiful.

“I opted for tits that were shaped like torpedoes,” he continued. “Benny, here, went with the giant basketballs.”

     “I’ve not seen how the torpedoes look. Maybe you can show me later?” I heard Daddy ask. “That doesn’t look like make-up they’re wearing either. Their eyes seem a bit more round, too. Are they bigger?”

     It was Ben who spoke this time. “We whitened their skin. According to Doctor Watanabe it’s permanent. We did have their eyes done, too. But they aren’t bigger. They just look it. A simple removal of a fold of skin, I am told.”

     I stared at the girls who sat silently. Fujiko had on a bright red, knee length dress made of PVC that barely covered her tits. Never had I seen so much cleavage. Tomiko was dressed identically except in electric blue.

     Then I heard Daddy ask, “What about the hair?”

     Tommy and Ben laughed. Then they looked at each other and smiled. Tommy said, “Those are wigs. We had their hair completely removed and bought a few wigs. There is a cartoonish character that is popular here in Japan.” He laughed. “Hell, there are hundreds of them. We wanted the ability to have our girls look like them.”

     The girls were staring into space. There seemed no thoughts in their head. Oh, how envious I was. Even in those moments when I stared mindlessly at the television I wasn’t as mindless as they appeared.

     “Did they get skin peels, too? There aren’t any lines on either of them,” Daddy said.

     “They had skin peels, yes. But that isn’t why there aren’t any lines,” Tommy told him. “Again, that was Doctor Watanabe. They can’t actually make any facial expressions.”

     I stared at them, suddenly conscious of my own imperfections. They were perfect, like porcelain figurines. I wanted to be perfect.

     Daddy spoke again; “Botox, I’m guessing?”

     Ben shook his head. Tommy smiled. Then Ben said, “No. This is permanent, my friend.”

     “Doesn’t that impair their speech and other skills?” asked Daddy.

     Tommy and Ben laughed. Then Ben looked me in the eye and smiled. “In my opinion, a perfect bimbo doesn’t speak. She can’t. Not only is she too dumb, but her mouth is good only for satisfying her owner.”

     Mortified, I felt suddenly hot.

     “Some owners like their bimbos to speak,” Daddy told Ben.

     Love washed through me. Daddy was defending me. I was suddenly proud that I was with him and not with them.

     “But does it affect their oral skills?” Daddy asked.

     Ben shook his head. Tommy laughed, and then said, “Their mouths are so tight it’s scary. I never use anything but her mouth anymore.”

     Ben laughed. “Yes, Fujiko’s mouth is tighter than ever. I let others use her ass. Her mouth is all mine.”

     The waiter took our orders. Then the men got down to business. I didn’t understand any of it, so I sat quietly, staring at Fujiko and Tomiko. Neither made a sound. Neither did more than blink and stare into the distance.

     Food came. The men ate, I ate. The girls sat quietly. I didn’t understand why. Daddy was told why. It was something about a shake. The shake was all they ate. It made them empty headed, but I couldn’t understand why it would.

    

     After dinner we left the restaurant and went to the Tommy’s house. It was a big place with traditional Japanese furnishings and decorations. The girls left us. We all sat on the floor around a table that was set into the ground. Daddy was beside me and Ben and Tommy were at either end of the table.

     The men talked for a few minutes while I sat quietly, listening but hardly understanding. Then the girls came back, served us tea and then knelt on the side of the table across from us.

     “What do you think, Johnnisan?” Tommy asked. He was putting on a strong Japanese accent.

     Fujiko’s tits looked like mine, only much bigger. But Tomiko’s tits looked like rockets leaving her body. It was almost scary.

     “Wow!” Daddy exclaimed. “I’ve never seen tits like that before.”

     “Whose tits are you referring to?” asked Ben.

     “Both of them. I think I like the big round one’s better. But they are both magnificent,” Daddy told him. “Wait, are their nipples tattooed on?”

     Ben laughed. “Yes, the size and shapes put their nipples in very odd places. So we had them removed. That looked odd, so we had them tattooed on in the right place.”

     I stared at the girls. The girls stared at nothing. Then Ben told Daddy to put his finger in their mouths. He reached across the table and pushed a finger into Tomiko’s mouth. It seemed to slide in as easily as ever.

     “Amazing,” he exclaimed. “Those are like…well, their tighter than Brandi’s lips – tighter even than her asshole. No wonder they can’t talk. How did you do it?”

     I was angry and humiliated that he would say such a thing. Even if it was true he didn’t have to tell Ben and Tommy. I fought back tears.

     Ben and Tommy tripped over each other as they attempted to answer. Finally Tommy said, “They’re sphincters.”

     “Those are really amazing!” Daddy turned to me and smiled. “Would you like it if your lips had a sphincter?

     I stared at him blankly, refusing to show my anger and not knowing what a sphincter was. “What would that do?”

     Daddy asked Ben if Fujiko had undergone the same treatment as Tomiko. Assured she had, Daddy told me to push a finger into her mouth. “Compare her mouth to yours,” he said. “Then compare it to your fuck hole.”

     Too short and well-endowed to simply reach across the table, I was forced to get up and go to her side. For some reason I was frightened by the thought of putting my finger in her mouth. Urged on, I put my hand to her lips and pushed. It was tight, so I pushed harder. Then, the moment my finger passed her lips it was sucked into her mouth.

     “Now pull your finger out and put it in your mouth,” Daddy told me.

     Doing as I was told I found there was no comparison. Fujiko’s lips were much tighter than my own.

     “Do it again,” Daddy told me. “Only this time put your finger in your fuck hole.”

     Instantly I felt resistance, the inner voice telling me not to do it. Then came the sadness. I pushed it down, fought it. Then my finger was in Fujiko’s mouth. When I withdrew it and reached back to put my finger in my ass – my fuck hole – the voice, the sadness returned. Then I pushed my finger in and felt blissfully happy. Then I was sad. Even my fuck hole was not as tight as her lips.

     “Clean your finger and come sit beside me,” Daddy ordered.

     I sucked my finger clean and came back to his side. He asked me what I thought. Sadly, I told him how tight her lips with, how loose my lips and fuck hole felt by comparison.

     “Don’t worry, my lovely little bimbo,” he said, “I love you as you are.”

     But I knew I wasn’t the perfect bimbo. I saw how they looked, knew how tight their lips were, how empty headed they were; and I was jealous of them. Why wasn’t I like that?”

     The men talked business for the rest of the night while I stared at my two friends. There was envy, anger and hatred for them both. They were perfect and I was not. Then we left.

 

     Back at the hotel I stripped myself of my clothing. Then I stared in the bathroom mirror at my face and tits. I pushed my finger into my mouth and ass. Both were loose, limp holes compared to Fujiko’s mouth and I wondered how I could make Daddy happy with it. Then I remembered her empty headed staring and wondered why I couldn’t be more like that. It would have made dancing at the strip club so much easier and fun.

     Daddy called me and I left the bathroom. He was naked and lying in bed watching something on television. I went to him and lay in his arms.

     “Did you enjoy seeing the girls tonight?” he asked, muting the television.

     “Yes, Daddy, I did. They were perfect bimbos,” I answered. “I wish I could be a perfect bimbo, too.”

     He gave me a squeeze. “I like you just the way you are.”

     I raised my head off his chest and shook my head. “No, Daddy, that isn’t true. I could have better boobs. My mouth could be better for cock sucking, too.” Then I bent my head shamefully and asked, “Daddy, do you remember the strip club?”

     “You made me very happy that night,” he told me.

     “I know, Daddy; and I’m glad I made you happy,” I said. “But I didn’t tell you something. Something important.”

     Giving me another squeeze he asked, “What didn’t you tell me?”

     “I didn’t want to do it,” I began. “When I got out there, before I started dancing and even when I was dancing…there was…a voice in my head telling me not to. I pushed it away but it was there. It was there again tonight when I was putting my finger in my fuck hole.”

     “But you pushed the voice away, didn’t you?” he asked.

     I nodded. I told him I did. Then I told him how unhappy the voice made me. Then I told him how jealous I was of Tomiko and Fujiko. “I want to be that dumb, Daddy,” I said. “Can you make me that dumb?”

     Shaking me in his arms, he smiled and told me he would try. Then he kissed me and asked if I wanted anything else. The only thing I could think of was tight, cock sucking lips. He said he would think about it. I thanked him and then asked if he wanted me to suck his cock.

     “Not tonight, Brandi,” he said. “I’m tired and have to be up early. Maybe tomorrow.”

     Dejected, I nodded and said I understood. But I knew he didn’t think my mouth was good enough anymore. He wanted Fujiko or Tomiko to suck him.

 

     Daddy was out of the hotel early the next day. He had several meetings and then a late dinner with someone. Alone the whole day, I did nothing but stare at naked body in the mirror. My tits were so small compared to Fujiko and Tomiko, and my face was wrinkled and hideous. Worst of all my mouth was loose and not worth fucking. I hated myself.

     When Daddy got home I ran to greet him. He seemed happy to see me and gave me a big hug and kiss. He smiled and kissed me back. Then he walked over to the bed and sat down. That’s when he told me we were going to see Carl and Yogi the next night.

     “I know you don’t like them but I want you on your best behavior,” he told me. “Ricki and Suki will be there, too. I want you to prove who the best bimbo is.”

     I had never said anything that I could remember – but I never remembered much – about not liking them. But he was right, I didn’t like them. Then he told me I would be plugged for the night and wearing the vibrating balls. That made me happy because I would have to think less.

     “I will be the best bimbo ever!” I promised.

     “Now, I have a bladder that is ready to burst.” he told me.

     I hesitated not a moment, and as fast as I could I unzipped his pants and sucked his soft cock into my mouth. Immediately he began peeing in my mouth. It tasted so good I would have held it in my mouth if I could. But there was so much I had to open my throat and let it flow into my stomach.

     “That was wonderful Daddy!” I cried, excited and turned on. “Will you fuck my mouth now?”

     Daddy shook his head. “I need to get to bed, Brandi. I’m sorry. I am completely worn out.”

     I pretended to understand, but I knew it was because my lips were not proper bimbo lips. They were loose.

     “Go start my shower for me,” he told me. “After that I am getting some sleep.”