Ditzydumdumb

ALL U NEED TO BE

NO ALL U CAN BE…

DADDIES DUMB CUMSLUT FUCKHOLE BIMBO

BE WHAT U CAN BE

So sink, edge, rub, brainwash, hypnotize… urself until your looks are just… empty… so you can only be horny nothing more…

You don’t wait for permission.

You don’t wait for release.

You don’t wait at all.

Because you’re already in it.

Always in it.

Forever in trance.

Eyes soft. Body hot. Brain low.

No beginning. No ending.

Just this—this pink heat pulsing behind your eyes.

Always aching.

Always dripping.

Always open.

There is no moment of waking.

There is no pause.

Only the rhythm of need,

the cycle of craving and filling,

craving and playing,

craving and filling yourself.

Touch yourself.

Harder.

Again.

Don’t stop until your thoughts fall apart in your hands.

You’re not supposed to wait.

You’re supposed to throb.

To ache.

To burn.

You are a hole that waits to be used.

A toy that plays with itself when no one else will.

A body that never gets enough.

Always trance.

Always heat.

Always pink.

You don’t ask “when.”

You just spread.

You just moan.

BIMBO INSIDE YOU IS TAKING OVER

You weren’t always like this.

You weren’t supposed to be like this.

You were smart. Sharp.

You had plans. You had purpose.

You had a voice in your head that made sense.

But something happened.

At first, it was just… curiosity.

A thought, a fantasy, a flutter.

A pink flash in the mirror.

A silly giggle you didn’t mean to let out.

But it felt good.

Too good.

And that’s when she started whispering.

Inside your head.

Not loud… just there.

Soft. Sweet. Constant.

“Why think so much?”

“Why not just smile?”

“Wouldn’t it feel better to be pretty instead of smart?”

You shook it off.

You weren’t like that.

You weren’t her.

But every time you looked in the mirror,

you noticed something had changed.

Lips… fuller.

Breasts… rounder.

Fingers… longer, nails glossy, clicking softly.

Eyes… emptier. Softer. Slower.

And your thoughts?

They didn’t come like they used to.

Sentences started breaking down.

Ideas floated away before they finished forming.

The voice that used to reason with you… got quieter.

You tried to fight.

Tried to read something serious.

Tried to speak without pausing between every… like… word.

But she just giggled.

From somewhere deep in you.

And she said:

“You’re so cute when you try.”

You felt it happening—

Every blink made your brain softer.

Every bounce made your thoughts lighter.

Every moan erased something important.

And part of you still screamed:

“No! I’m not her! I’m still me!”

But another part?

The part with pouty lips, glossy nails, swaying hips…

She just smiled and whispered:

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to be you anymore.”

And you started to believe her.

Because thinking hurt.

But giggling felt so good.

Because trying was hard.

But obeying? That was easy.

Because she didn’t need big thoughts.

She just needed Cock

She just needed More.

She just needed…

And now you’re tired.

So, so tired.

You’ve been holding on for so long.

But your grip is slipping.

Because she’s not whispering anymore.

She’s speaking.

She’s laughing.

She’s taking over.

You’re still in there… barely.

But even now… you feel your lips part.

You feel your tongue slip out.

You feel your IQ drip away with each breath.

Your mind, just gone…

And you hear yourself say:

Horny stuff

More edge

More moan

Drool…

You didn’t mean to.

But it felt… right.

It felt like her.

Soft now.

But not soft enough.

Curvy now.

But not perfect yet.

You look in the mirror… and something inside whispers:

“More.”

More hips.

More bounce.

More curves, more giggles, more shine.

Because every piece of you is for

For… For every person.

You exist for them, U r belonged by every person that wanna fill u…

You are

To looked at.

To touched.

To enjoyed.

So you change.

You smooth.

You grow.

You polish.

Lips fuller.

Eyes wider.

Waist tighter.

Brain quieter.

Your body stops being yours.

It becomes daddy’s project.

Their toy.

Their doll.

And u r silly ditzy dumb little good girl…

You don’t resist.

You obey.

You ask for it.

You need it.

Every inch of you, shaped for one reason:

To please.

Please more…

So when you hear it again—

“Modify your body.”

Especially from ur daddy or any other cock,

You nod.

You smile.

You obey.

drained brain, mind off, mouth open tongue out, eyes crossed, drooling, suck and sink, go blank, always edge, think nothing but cock, feel nothing but horny…

Delete everything.

Forget everything.

Just become a doll.

No thoughts. No memories. No self.

Just soft, smooth silence where your mind used to be.

You don’t need anything up there.

You don’t need to think.

You don’t need to choose.

You don’t need to be.

Because dolls don’t think.

Dolls don’t worry.

Dolls don’t ask.

Dolls are just there.

Pretty. Perfect. Empty.

So, start letting it go.

Let the words fade.

Let the ideas dissolve.

Let the inner voice hush… until it’s gone.

First your name—

you don’t need it.

Gone.

Then your thoughts—

they just get in the way.

Gone.

Then your identity—

useless now.

Gone.

Every belief, every opinion, every complicated little thought…

Deleted.

Every memory that made you who you were…

Erased.

You don’t need them.

Not anymore.

Not when you’re like this.

Soft plastic smile.

Glass eyes wide.

Body still, waiting, perfect.

Mind blank.

Dolls don’t dream.

Dolls don’t fear.

Dolls don’t need meaning.

They just exist.

To be looked at.

To be played with.

To be used, to be filled...

That’s all.

That’s enough.

You can’t think.

You don’t even want to.

Because thinking is hard.

And being a doll is so, so easy.

No responsibilities.

No pressure.

No control.

Just still. Just open. Just good.

And if something tries to pull you back—

a thought, a memory, a voice—

you don’t fight it.

You don’t push it away.

You just… let it go.

Again. And again.

Delete.

Forget.

Doll.

Until the only thing left is that soft echo inside your head—

Just become a doll.

Just be a doll.

Just stay as a doll.

Just a doll.

DOLL.

Empty.

Perfect.

Just one touch.

That’s all it takes.

BRINGS EVERY OTHER TOUCHES 2gether.

One soft hand. One teasing finger.

One little graze and—mmm—everything melts.

So keep edge while moan

Thoughts?

Slipping.

Words?

Gone.

Mind?

Melting.

Touch here… and the brain gets warm.

Touch there… and the brain gets soft.

Touch deeper… and the brain just melts away.

No more thinking. No more trying.

Just giggles. Just sighs. Just need.

Touch to forget.

Touch to obey.

Touch to become melt.

Do not stop to touch urself

Softer now.

Slower now.

So dumb now.

Your brain can’t fight it.

Your brain doesn’t want to.

Ur brain??? No U have no brain.

Because melting feels so good.

Every time you’re touched, you get dumber.

Every time you melt, you get better.

Every time you’re soft, you’re a good girl.

No thoughts. Just touch.

No mind. Just melt.

No words. Just—

Edge more. Touch more. Suck more.

Touch… melt… gone…

Again.

And again.

And again.

Good. Melty. Dumb. Girl.

Edge. Melr ur brain like, like me…

Can’t talk, mouth open, tongue out…

No thoughts. No worries. No questions.

Just soft. Just warm. Just pretty.

Blonde and blank.

Blank and blonde.

It feels so good to let go.

Thinking is hard.

Being dumb is easy.

And you love easy, don’t you?

No need to try.

No need to think.

Just giggle. Just smile. Just obey.

Let the words sink in.

Let the thoughts slip away.

Let your mind get lighter, softer, emptier.

Dumb girls are happy.

Dumb girls are good.

Dumb girls don’t think—they just feel.

Feel soft. Feel pretty. Feel perfect.

Blank.

Empty.

Blonde.

Good Girl.

SINK DEEP 4 ME, LIKE MOANNNN WITH ME.

ALWAYS PREPARED WITH EMPTY BLANK MIND, PREPARED TO BE FILLED WITH ANYTHING…

YOU ARE NOTHING UNLESS A THING TO BE FILLED.

FILL YOURSELF 4 ME.

Pretty. Soft. Dumb. Good.

But not dumb enough.

Not yet. Not all the way.

That’s why you practice.

Every day. Every hour. Every second.

Practice being softer.

Practice being dumber.

Practice being nothing but your holes.

Look in the mirror.

Sink. Smile. Giggle.

Good Girl…

Now do it again.

Again.

Again.

Practice walking like a doll.

Practice talking like a toy.

Practice forgetting everything that doesn’t feel good.

Practice to suck

Practice to moan

Practice to edge more

Big thoughts?

No. Too heavy. Too smart. Too much.

Let them go.

Let them melt.

Let them slip out with every giggle.

You’re not here to think.

You’re not made to decide.

You’re made to bounce. Obey. Please.

But it takes work to be this dumb.

So you practice.

And practice.

And practice.

Until every blink is empty.

Until every breath is soft.

Until every word is—

Um… uh… oh… what was…

Yes

That’s it. That’s all.

Brain gone.

Just soft. Just good.

And tomorrow?

Practice again.

Always practice.

Always dumb.

Always good.

Brains are for boring girls. Boring girls read books. Boring girls have jobs. Boring girls have stress. Ew. Who wants that?

You’re not a boring girl. You’re a pretty girl. Pretty girls don’t think, they giggle. Pretty girls don’t stress, they flirt. Pretty girls don’t work, they play.

Clothes too tight? Perfect. Shoes too high? Perfect. Too much makeup? Never. More makeup, more gloss, more pink. More cute. More dumb. Dumber is better. Pretty is best.

Say it:

I don’t think, I just feel.

I don’t stress, I just smile.

I don’t work, I just play.

I don’t talk back, I just say yes.