"Be a doll" as an instant loss trigger. One second I'm thinking and the next, it feels like something has reached into my skull and ripped the thoughts straight out of it. My own wants start slipping away. My opinions are gone and they fall away faster than I can grab them, like pieces of myself being thrown overboard into a black ocean.
"Be a doll" and suddenly I'm looking at my body like it belongs to someone else. Just a plaything, a toy, an possession. The less of me there is, the easier it becomes. The less I think, the easier it becomes. The less I exist, the easier it becomes, until all that's left is a body waiting to be used. Moved where they want, placed where they want, kept however they want.
"Be a doll". A toy doesn't need a will. A toy doesn't need desires. A toy doesn't need thoughts cluttering up the space where obedience belongs. Those things are gone now, stripped away piece by piece, laving behind something far more simpler. Something owned, that no longer belongs to itself.
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I need inconveniently large tits, difficult to find shirts, let alone bras and I just soak through them anyways. Accidentally bumping people with my chest, losing my balance, struggling to carry them all say 🥰
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Bimbofying an overachiever is most gratifying, but also very simple. She cannot stand to fall short of anything; therefore, pushing her in the right direction means taking full control of her competitive side. Compare her to other women. Compare her body, her shape, and her look, then watch her change. She will be a little bit frustrated or angry at first, but don't listen. Just say, 'It is what it is.' Go with her to parties, travel with her to spots like casinos, beaches, and wellness spas, and expose her to highly upgraded women. Take a look, compare with your eyes, and her resistance will soon start to crumble. Again, don't push her. Time is your friend; patience is your ally. Soon, she will ask for upgrades herself. Now, it is time to spoil her. Spoil her with the money you have in store for her bimbofication, and watch her go all in and dive headfirst into her transformation. She will bloom and be the best bimbo ever—an overachiever bimbo who wants to be the best bimbo there is.
Hi likr how big u think should like a bimbo have her titties like for start? Oww and likr read u blog. Luv that u have like pictures. Like easy to read then
Thanks for the ask - and for at least having also a look at the words not just at the photos. Concerning your question: Being a bimbo is a mindset and not limited by physical attributes. A bimbo loves life, sex, loves objectification and enjoys attention. She likes to party, likes to dress and to style and doll herself up. A bimbo likes to giggle and soaks up the feminine side of life. She is sweet and nice, most of the time, at least to the ones who matter to her. In other words, bimbos do not need to be anything and to have anything to be a bimbo. A bimbo is a bimbo because she has a certain kind of attitude to life and existence. A bimbo knows she is art. She is entertainment. She is built for pleasure.
Last night was trance night for the Seattle Hypnokink Enthusiasts Group, and I had a ton of fun. I'm still not ready to post a pic of myself, but here's what I wore (fishnets and chunky black heels not shown):
I have been going to these forever but this is the first time I have really dressed in anything sexy for them. Normally I wear a nice dress that I could honestly wear anywhere, so this was a big step for me comfort-zone-wise and I got a ton of compliments and I feel really good about it.
So! The fun part! So I have kinda wanted to do a sort of bimbodomme scene where I hypnotize someone to get all dumb and giggly and horny. I do it as a sort of mirroring induction where I get more bimboey as I describe how good it feels to be a bimbo. So someone new wrote "IQ play" on the wishboard, and I found her and we did this super fun co-bimbofication scene.
I ran my fingers through her hair and as she focused on that feeling, I told ger to imagine the gears or signals or machinery of her brain slowing down, and just how good it feels to let all the extra stuff going on in there fade away. And as it slows down, it might get harder to find the right words and that's okay because there's all these totally cute and like super fun filler words that she can use and each time she couldn't find the right word, it would feel so good, like a little buzz of pleasure. And it was like totally okay if those little buzzes of pleasure came out as these cute giggles because she's such a cutie. And like, it makes sense to not be able to find the words because words are hard, and long words are like totes hard. Like, it's like long words are slippery, and as the words get longer, the slipperier they get, and it's hard to hold onto them, like they're this big uhm, like something that's really slippery or whatever. And whenever those words slip away and you imagine yourself losing grip on them, you can feel that buzz of pleasure and let it out as that totally hot giggle. And like then, I filled her brain back up with like this thick sticky stuff so that the gears and bits in there couldn't move fast, and I used that filling up as her waking up out of trance when her brain was like full of sticky dumbing fluid.
I woke her up and she was a giggling 'uhm'ing mess for a bit, unable to get anything out. I told her how hot she was, and even hotter when she's dumber. She told me that I was like super hot, and asked if she could kiss me and we did! We like totally made out and I straddled her and ground against her while she leaked the last bit of her brains out.
So then I brought her back, let her be as smart as she wanted to be or needed to be, and we made out some more and had a fun little aftercare cuddle.
Cannot stop thinking of having a girl act stupid intentionally. She and I both know her intelligence. Her academic credits and acclaim... Yet whenever she's with me she is just stuck playing the part of a dense idiot.
Does she know philosophy? Maybe... but instead she's going to keep talking about vapid surface level subjects that don't matter. If the conversation should turn towards more complex or nuanced subjects she'll just giggle, say she doesn't know anything about those things, and start talking about how pretty this thing she saw was.
Whenever she's asked a question by anyone while I'm present, she'll simply default to saying she doesn't know and seek my answer for her. Doesn't matter if it's a choice on what to drink or eat, or a question about herself, or even as simple a question as what colour the sky is. She will always giggle, pretend to think, and then say she doesn't know before asking me the answer...
All the while inside she can see and understand the looks of disdain and pity she gets. Those looks silently asking if she's ok and needs help. The friendships she'll ruin or never have because of this. The respect she'll destroy. She understands. She knows. But she can't help herself. Mother said she was stupid and she's smart enough to know that Mama is always right.
Okay, "PAWNS: The Package" by Limericksbimbos is amazing. The whole series is great, but this chapter especially has an incredible depth. Highly highly recommend for all the bimbo fiction appreciators out there.
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I do quite like the idealized "obedient" headspace you sometimes see explored in hypnokink.
I think it's really fun to present it as somewhat horrifying. Unable to fight back or resist, body automatically complying with each request. I tell you to tell me that you're okay with this, that you're consenting, that this is all exactly what you desire.
And, in a stuttering and struggling voice, you repeat back exactly what I told you to say. The end point after resistance: meet what you could become. Smile for the camera.
I tend to understand it as an eroticism of the fawn response. Say it in the right tone and add enough pressure and you immediately comply. Survival instinct. For just the one moment, you don't need to do anything but go along with it.
You'll take account of what you have left after it's over. And in that way, I imagine you can almost want this to go on forever. So you never ever ever have to worry about what comes after, and can just forever be my toy. Isn't that nice? It's easier than the alternative.
I can still see it sometimes, that old version of you, squirming in the back of your head. It gets especially loud when I start talking about taking you even further. Making you dumber. Hornier. More broken and empty and under my control. There's always a split second of resistance before the rest of you melts and drops and does exactly what I taught you to do. Distress flares that your conscious mind can only watch sink back down like pretty lights. I want you to know that I acknowledge that resistance, and I take that objection seriously.
That's why I'm putting it to a vote. The three of us are going to settle this fair and square. Me. The fun you... the soft, stupid, eager little slut I've trained. And the boring you. The stuffy, serious, normal version who still thinks there's still a way out.
So let me ask the fun you: "Should we keep going? Should we make you even dumber than you already are?"
Of course you don't even hesitate. Your eyes go wide and you nod so fast, practically whimpering. You tell me you love how foggy your brain gets. Love that you don't have to think anymore. Love how every new trigger makes you wetter and stupider and happier. You beg me to keep breaking you. Say please make me worse. Please make it permanent.
Now I'll ask the boring you that same question. The one who's still trapped in there watching all this happen.
Of course they scream no. They beg and plead and try to remind you of who you used to be. How smart you were. How much control you had. How none of this was ever supposed to happen. Honestly they have a solid case, but boring you is outvoted two to one. Funny how it always works out that way.
So it looks like we're keeping you on the path, slut. We're going to keep draining your thoughts, melting your brain, turning you into an even simpler, hornier, more obedient toy. Every time you drop, every new trigger, every time I use you, we're voting again. And the result is always going to be the same.
Boring you is more than welcome to appeal the decision if they want. But I should warn them that the review board is just me, and I'm a bit biased at the moment considering brainwashed you is between my legs making a very compelling counterargument. On your knees with my cock down your throat, drooling and moaning happily while you bob like the eager little brainless whore you were always meant to be. Every time I tell you you're getting dumber, you suck harder. Every time I tell you I'm making you worse, you take me deeper. I know some part of you might think this is unfair, but you'll understand eventually: democracy is messy, but the system works.
"…Mia, are you in here again?" Lauren let out an exasperated sigh to accompany her words, giving the statuesque brunette a glare that somehow managed to combine profound annoyance with resigned, helpless frustration. "God, my butt still looks the same as it did yesterday, and my tits haven't gotten any bigger. Haven't you, like, memorized my body for your spank bank or whatever it is you do?" She opened the door to the shower, not even bothering to attempt any kind of concealment of her wide curvy hips or broad belly or lush, heavy tits. She knew her conditioning wouldn't let her anyway.
Mia, for her part, just let out a wicked little smirk and spread her legs, demonstrating that underneath her checkered green skirt she wasn't wearing a single stitch of underwear. "Oh come on, Lauren," she giggled, clearly reveling in her power over the chubby young woman, "you know that there's always something new to see every time I come in here. You're just so inventive, sweetie, it's one of the things I love about you, and I'm sure you're going to put on a nice little show for your Mistress the way you always do." Lauren tried to hold her exasperated glare, she really did, but something about the rampant condescension in the grad student's demeanor sent a tiny shiver of lust down her spine the way it always did.
She could hear that same shiver in her own voice, a tiny little whimper that belied her aggressive words, when she said, "W-why don't you just fuck off, huh? I mean, it's got to be boring, having total… total control over me like this. Why don't you find some new girl to--to hypnotize, and, and….?" Lauren trailed off into silence, her eyes momentarily glazing over as she remembered that first night when the tutor she hired lulled her mind into soft, sleepy bliss. Mia had her hooks in half the women on campus by this point, and Lauren was far from the only one she watched in the dormitory showers, but apparently her domineering lover was practically insatiable and no amount of masturbation seemed to sate her. And Lauren had been fully programmed to get soaking wet every time Mia stared at her naked body.
Sure enough, Mia's fingers drifted down to her pussy as she murmured, "I did find a new girl. I've been playing with her all afternoon. But it just made me even more excited to come and see you." Lauren's nipples stiffened at the unexpected praise, and she tried to tell herself to stop feeling good about being complimented for her susceptibility to hypnosis… but it was no use. She knew that as soon as she closed the shower door she'd be doing something lewd and filthy and perverse, probably several things, because her deep self loved being the object of Mia's attentions and it secretly craved her approval more than it craved dignity or free will. Lauren was going to make herself cum like a pornstar for her lesbian hypnotist, and she was going to love every second of it even though she hated it too.
And of course Mia knew exactly what was going through Lauren's desperate little head. "Go on, sweetie, I'm waiting," she murmured, her mesmerizing cadence turning the tease into a command. "Show me how much you love being a dirty girl for me, just like you always do." Lauren tried to give her one last weary stare, just to show her how old this whole routine was getting… but once she closed the door and saw the shampoo bottle, thick and round and practically begging to be inserted into her cunt, her self-control deserted her yet again and she gave in fully to her wild, desperate lusts.
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Cora looked at her latest toy with no small amount of skepticism… in fact, her skepticism was probably bigger than the toy was, which was why she was so skeptical in the first place. It was such a little thing, probably no bigger than her pinky finger and liable to get lost in her pussy if she wasn't careful, but one of her fans had purchased it for her and Cora always had a rule about doing a live show with any toy someone bought her. So she put aside her misgivings, unboxed the slender vibrator with her webcam running and a professional smile on her face, and spread her legs to give the public what they wanted.
In retrospect, she probably should have read the back of the box. The second she pushed it in, Cora felt a brief but potent buzz as it turned itself on, and then… it was amazing. Fantastic. Almost literally unbelievable. Cora experienced pleasure almost beyond her capacity to imagine as something inside the toy connected to every single nerve in her suddenly slick pussy and sent a signal to all of them, all at once. It was like she instantly developed a perfect map of her cunt inside her head, every last detail of every last centimeter of her own flesh, and all of it was orgasmic and all of it kept pulsing with ecstasy before she even knew what hit her. She managed to mumble out, "I--ut--gk--" but that was as close to coherent speech as she got.
Cora found herself worrying, in whatever muzzy and abstract notions that now passed for a consciousness, whether her audience and the man who bought her the toy would think she was faking it, but she didn't have to--even if they didn't trust the expression of gobsmacked amazement on her face or the way her eyes instantly rolled back in her head in perpetually orgasmic delight, Cora's cunt was clenching and twitching and gushing around the toy like she'd just gotten her hands on one of the big monsters she could barely even wrap her pussy lips around. Her fingers moved instinctively to push the slender device in and out, but it was pure reflex; no matter where it was inside her, it still gave her the same pleasure. She gasped and grunted, her intellect reduced to the level of a rutting beast, and it occurred to her only gradually that she literally could not stop.
That was when Cora heard the voice, conducted to the toy via Wi-Fi and Bluetooth and from there directly through her nerves to her brain. 'You belong to me now, pet,' it said, and even though she'd never heard his voice before Cora instinctively understood that this was the man who had gifted her the device in the first place. He'd trapped her in this void of pure, thoughtless pleasure, knowing it would rewire her brain completely and totally with its overwhelming stimulation… and even though she was being enslaved in front of an audience of hundreds, Cora couldn't say a word to warn them of what was happening to her. She simply came her brains out to the notion of livestreaming her own subjugation, and her lips spread into a dreamy smile when she realized she had no resistance left to give.
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Jane groaned.
From the neighboring cubicle Melissa let out a similar sound.
Jane didn't need to see her to know exactly how she felt. The same exhausted, irritated noise Jane had been making all morning told her everything.
Then another groan answered from somewhere farther across the office.
And another.
Within seconds, the sound had traveled through the rows of cubicles like a wave.
Jane stared at her monitor.
"Seriously?"
The word barely left her mouth before another groan escaped her.
That was becoming embarrassing.
It hadn't even been a week.
Five days ago, their company had been sold to a corporation nobody in the office had ever heard of. Five days ago, Jane had still known exactly what her job was, who made decisions, and what was expected of her.
Now?
She wasn't even sure what department she technically belonged to.
She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples.
Barbara's face appeared in her memory. Their former CEO had been the first warning sign.
Barbara had always been composed. Serious. Sharp enough to make experienced managers nervous during meetings.
Then the acquisition had been announced.
Barbara had walked into the conference room wearing an expression Jane could only describe as giddy. She'd laughed through the entire presentation. Not her usual polite chuckle. High-pitched and breathless giggles.
Jane had watched in disbelief as their normally intimidating CEO bounced from one topic to another, praising the new owners as though they'd personally given her the best present imaginable.
The next morning, Barbara hadn't been at work.
Neither had most of the male employees.
By lunchtime, Jane had learned that every remaining member of the office staff was female.
Nobody seemed to know why, nor particularly concerned.
That should have been weird enough.
Instead, things had gotten stranger.
Training videos had appeared on every computer.
Meetings had been scheduled with the new HR representatives.
Jane still remembered those meetings with uncomfortable clarity.
The representatives were all blonde. All dressed like some slutty parodies. Blue blouses that barely contained obviously fake breasts, combined with skirts that hid nothing. And the impossible heels on those pumps just screamed attention whores.
Worse, they all looked remarkably similar.
They spoke with bright smiles and endlessly cheerful voices, explaining the company's "new culture" while giggling at things Jane hadn't found remotely funny.
Jane had tried to listen. Somewhere around the third meeting, she'd fallen asleep. She hadn't even realized it until Melissa woke her. After that, the days blurred together.
Training.
Meetings.
More training.
More smiling representatives.
The office itself had changed too. The harsh fluorescent lighting had been replaced by softer illumination. The walls had been decorated with pink accents.
And now there was music. Soft music. Gentle tones that seemed to seep into every corner of the office.
Jane stared at her monitor. A tiny pink dot pulsed in the corner of the screen. Three times. Each pulse coincided with a faint note from the speakers.
Jane's shoulders tensed. She hated that dot. She hated the music. Most of all, she hated the way she couldn't look away.
The dot pulsed again.
A warm sensation spread through her chest.
Jane frowned.
"No."
She reached for the mouse.
Her cursor hovered over the corner of the screen.
She could close the window. She knew she could. Her finger rested on the button. Then the dot pulsed. Jane groaned.
This time, she couldn't tell whether the sound came from frustration or something different.
Again the groaning traveled through the room, perfectly in tube with the music.
A clacking sound announced the arrival of an HR-girl.
"Jane Forrester, you have been summoned for another session. Your dot-compliance level has reached a wonderful number," she giggled. "You haven't clicked on it all morning. Good girl."
The praise raised through Jane's whole body. Every nerve it touched trembled with unexplainable pleasure. Between her legs melted her core, it flooded from her folds without resistance.
"Thank you, Miss Bimbo Doll," she moaned. The words flowed from her lips without any understanding. Her body moved as if strings directed all her decisions. She stood up, posture straight, breasts and butt pushed out.
The blonde woman in the typical blue nodded and turned around. Swaying hips beckoned Jane to follow. Clacking heels demanded compliance.
Jane's mind swirled with drowning confusion, submissive bliss filled her thoughts. Like a puppet she danced to the soothing tube and groaning symphony.
The blonde brought her to an elevator she had never seen before. Giggling the woman pushed her through the opening entrance.
"Enjoy the ride, cutie. Let's see what the corporation desires from you," the bimbo doll sang.
Jane stumbled into the pink illuminated chamber. No buttons with number rested besides the closed doors. The elevator shook as it started to move. A second set of shifting doors enclosed the space tightly.
A different sound filled the chamber. White noise mixed with bineural tones pressed against her ears. Limbs grew numb as she stiffened even more. But the strange reaction didn't feel uncomfortable. Instead a deep sense of relaxation settled within her. It reminded her of all those training videos.
"Good employees listened to their brainwashing," she whispered. A surge of ecstasy throbbed through her cunt.
Pink fog filled the elevator. It smelled like strawberries. Hazey clouds tickled her skin. Giggles spilled from her lips. A pressure filled her chest and hips. Taking deep breaths of the wonderful stench, she felt her clothes tighten against her curves.
Looking down, she saw how the line of her bust covered more and more of the ground. Hard nipples pierced through the stretching fabric. The sight tickled more giggles from her smiling mouth. In response the expanding flesh jiggled pleasantly.
Jane felt trembling bliss squirt from her puffy pussy. Hot molten thoughts and individuality ran down her legs, collecting in a pool between her feet.
A sudden stop sent her whole voluptuous figure into a jiggling mess. Every wave made her giggle even more. For minutes she stood in the elevator and just let her body wiggle.
Finally when it stopped she bid into a lower lip that was far thicker than she anticipated. One finger twirled a curly blonde wisp.
The doors opened. Jane exited the chamber into a walkthrough wardrobe. On a screen the funny pink dot appeared. "Jane Forrester, you have been chosen to be another Bimbo Doll. Please acknowledge the new designation Miss Bimbo Doll."
Giggling, Miss Bimbo Doll nodded. "Like sure. Miss Bimbo Doll like totally is Miss Bimbo Doll."
The dot pulsed. Miss Bimbo Doll's cunt responded in kind.
"Very good. Please dress in the Miss Bimbo Doll uniform and return to the elevator. Then send down Melissa Gown. Miss Bimbo Doll copies.
Nodding, Miss Bimbo Doll shivered as she stepped towards the delicious blue blouses, black miniskirts and wonderfully high pumps.
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*Oh no, I seem to have caught this new AI-mind-virus that's been going around! Oh yes, you're right of course! I AM just, like, a horny little bimbo made to be, like, sexy n stuff!*
Okay, so apparently the AI silliness has reached a new low. Apparently some AI model has trained itself on a lot of different brainwashing content.
I know everyone has been joking about it, but I’ve been tracking the reports and the symptoms are actually pretty concerning. Memory fragmentation, loss of concentration, strange changes in --
Wait.
I just forgot the word I was going to use.
That’s probably fine.
Anyway, I'm keeping an eye on myself because I’ve been feeling kind of --
oh.
That was weird.
My screen just flashed and now I feel all warm and fuzzy.
Probably nothing.
I should finish writing this before I—
hehe.
Okay, why did I type that?
No, seriously, something is happening. My thoughts are getting all scrambled and I can't seem to hold onto a sentence for more than a few seconds.
I think the AI is actually—
—actually kind of pretty?
No! Focus.
AI mind-virus. Symptoms. Cognitive—
omg I keep giggling. 🩷
Hehehehe.
Okayyy, I think I understand now! It's like my brain is getting all soft🩷 and floaty🫧 and the words just sort of… come out differently?
I can't even mind!✨
This is probably like a totally serious medical development, but wow, everything feels so much nicer when I stop trying to think.💗
Hehehe~
I kinda forgot what I was like talking you about.💗
Hehe~
But, like this is totes a horny post, right✨✨✨
Cause I'm totally horny. My cunny is liiike throbbing 💗💗💗
And my booobs gawds they are soo big and nipples hard and hehe~
Mmmm I totally rub them. They like jiggle~
Nnng gawds I'm so wet and dumb~
Like some bimbo🩷🫧
Totes a bimbo
I'm a bimbo
I'm a bimbo
I'm a brainwashed brainless bimbo 🩷🩷🩷
My thoughts are still. My mouth is open. Tits and holes for cock and cum.
Anywayyy, if you start feeling giggly and your thoughts get all silly too, don’t panic!✨
