Becoming a Bimbo	Back to M	Back to main page

Collected by Djian
update dec 20 - 2011

Other stories by H. Dean | Object of Affection | Lindy's Tale | Mel and the Sadist | Kennel Bitch | A Weekend With Bili

M/f, cons, reluc, D/s, humil, Bimbo

Becoming Bimbo
By H. Dean

Part 1

She was caught in a web of deceit; the lie of infidelity. Having hurt the only man she loved, she was willing to do anything to get in his good graces and save her marriage. In so doing, she is willingly led down the path to oblivion; life as a brainless bimbo.



Special shout out to one of my favorite authors: >> Toxis. Yours was the first remotely believable story of this genre and the best, so far.

H. Dean



She was caught in a web of deceit; the lie of infidelity. Having hurt the only man she loved, she was willing to do anything to get in his good graces and save her marriage. In so doing, she is willingly led down the path to oblivion.





Becoming Bimbo





Chapter 1



I don't know how it started. No, that's not true. I know how it started. It started with me stepping out on him. But I was lonely and bored. He was out of town on business - like he always was. No, that’s an excuse. He always said I could come with him. There was a standing invitation, he had told me. He even asked me to join him on his trips, telling me it would be good for us and our relationship and how he missed me when he was away. But I never went - I always had an excuse. Then I cheated on him. He found out. Then there was Hell to pay.

He was furious. Of course he was. Who wouldn't be? He threatened to kill me and kill himself and kill ‘the prick who fucked me’. He wept and he yelled, putting his fist through the wall before turning to me and telling me to get out of the house.


“I never want to see your ugly lying face again!” he screamed at me. “Get the fuck out of my house!”


I didn’t leave. Instead, I begged for forgiveness, promising him anything he wanted and telling him how much I loved him. It was a mistake – a night of drunken loneliness and I promised never to do it again. It was a partial lie. He didn’t need to know I had cheated more than once but I was serious about never stepping out again.


“Anything?” he demanded. “Then let’s just see how serious you are!”


He grabbed me and ripped my blouse off, spinning me around and pushing me towards the bedroom. I knew what he wanted. He wanted to fuck me. No, he wanted to rape me – to get back at me for hurting him. I didn’t fight it. I didn’t have it in me to fight.


“Please, “ I begged as he pushed me to the bed. “don’t hurt me.”


He growled at me and ignored my plea.


“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said as he flung me around and roughly pulled my jeans off of me.


I was scared. I’m tiny; four feet eleven inches tall and less than a hundred pounds. John could easily kill me without even trying and, angry as he was, there was nothing I could do to stop him.


“Tell me what you want,” I cried. “I’ll do it. Just tell me.”


“Get on your knees then!” he ordered.


I did it. I got on my knees. John ripped off my panties and unintentionally flung me from the bed. I was quick to recover and crawl back onto the mattress.


“I’m gonna fuck you, whore. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he said. “I promise you’re gonna be walking funny for a month!”


He freed his cock from his pants and grabbed me by the hair, pulling my head back, and shoved it in my mouth. There was no choice. Not that I wanted one. I deserved to be treated this way – like a whore. So I went limp and let him fuck my throat, fighting off the need to gag as best as I could.


“Take it bitch,” he said. There was anger, lust, power and pleasure in his voice. He was high on the power he wielded and, strangely, so was I.


He pulled from my mouth and spun me around, shoving my head into the white of the sheets.


“Did you let him fuck your ass?” he asked, his voice demanding an answer.


“No. I swear it!” I cried out. “Never!”


“Then this will be your first time, cunt!” he growled at me.


Pain ripped through me as he shoved his cock into my ass. I screamed out and then cried as he stretched my hole and started fucking my ass. Never had I felt so full or so helpless as I did at that moment. He was brutal, never slowing for a moment and I thought I might die from the pain. But I deserved it. God help me, I deserved it.


“From now on,” he said, thrusting with each word, “you will do as I say, when I say and how I say. Do you understand?”


“Yes!” I cried out through the tears falling from my eyes.


“Yes what, bitch?” he growled.


“Yes, I understand!”


“Sir, bitch. Say it!” he ordered.


“Yes, Sir,” I cried.


He came in my ass then, grunting out his pleasure and moaning at me what a whore I was. Then, without so much as a word he stormed out of the bedroom, leaving me to my tears.


“Get your ass in here!” he shouted at me.


I nearly ran into the bathroom where he was and kneeled at his command. Gripping my hair, he pulled my head back roughly and shoved his softening cock into my mouth and let loose with a stream of piss. I coughed and pulled back but he pushed me back down and made me drink the fountain of urine. I hated it – the taste, the act, the humiliation – but I had no choice.


“Don’t ever fucking resist me again!” he said. His voice was tinted with angry disdain.


“I won’t. I promise,” I said. Then he left me where I knelt.

Chapter 2



It was days later when John told me about the new rules I would have to follow. “Dress sexy,” he said. Then he showed me a picture of a Japanese girl. She was dressed in a blue PVC skirt and matching bustier and impossibly high heeled shoes. Her clothes were overly tight and her breasts were too large for her frame and nearly pushed out of her top.


“This is how I want you to dress. It’s the same way my client’s wives dress. I want to be able to show you off to them,” he said. “I want you to be a perfect little bimbo for me.”


I knew what he wanted and it disgusted me. God, what else could I do, though? I had trapped myself. I could do as he wanted or I could lose him. So I agreed. I would be his bimbo.


“I’m leaving on a business trip in a week. Get your passport ready and get some new clothes so you can come along next time,” he ordered. “I’ll be back in two weeks. I want to be impressed.”


For the next week, while he was at work, I checked the internet for places I could get clothes that would make him happy. I searched all the search engines for ‘bimbo clothes’ and ‘PVC clothes’ and other relevant search terms. I wanted to be ready when he got back. I even began acting like the bimbos in the stories I read. He was hard on me that week. Not cruel but not pleasant. Nor was he polite. Most nights that week he demanded I take to my knees and suck his cock the moment he sat down. There was never a night he didn’t fuck my ass or piss in my mouth.


It was Saturday when I dropped him at the airport. When he got back, he promised, he would have a better idea of what he wanted from me ‘on a more permanent basis’. I was left with him echoing the sentiment of his earlier statement ‘I want to be impressed’. I was not going to let him down, no matter how much I rebelled inwardly.


“One more thing, I want you to get a treadmill and when you walk around the house I want you to wear this around your ankles,” he said, handing me a short chain that attached to two leather cuffs. “I want you to learn to walk with short mincing steps. I want it to be normal for you. Don’t let me down.”


“I’ll wear it. I promise,” I told him. He kissed me on the cheek and got out of the car, taking his suitcase from the back seat and headed to the terminal.


Left alone with my thoughts, I drove home. It was raining that night. A rare thing for Los Angeles but it suited my mood. I was sad and angry with myself for cheating on him and I was terrified, too; terrified that he might still leave me even after I complied with his wants. Still, I knew there nothing for it. I had to do what I was told.


Two weeks later I got the call. He would be arriving at LAX at seven twenty-five that night. I was ready for him. Not only had I learned to walk in short mincing steps but I had learned to do so in the highest of heels. It had been difficult at first but I had acclimated fairly quickly. I had also purchased a wide array of PVC clothing in various colors and done enough research to more fully understand what he wanted from me. I would be ready for him when he arrived, no matter how embarrassing or humiliating it might be.


It was seven when I arrived at the airport. After parking the car I stepped out wearing bright blue plastic high heeled shoes and a matching skirt and top. I took a look at my reflection in the car window and felt ridiculous. My breasts aren’t small, especially for my height, but they looked absolutely huge in my tight PVC top and I worried that they might fall out with my first step. Suddenly, I felt like the bimbo I was made up to be. I told myself not to think about it but there was no getting around the looks I got as I minced my way to the terminal. No one ignores a girl dressed as I was, especially other women and especially walking as I was.


It was a long wait. His plane was late by forty-five minutes and I was forced to endure luring eyes and a few unpleasant comments. Worse, I had to tell off a couple of guys after they groped me. By the time I saw him walking into the terminal waiting area I was nearly ready to cry and I practically ran into his arms.


“Hi, baby,” he said, pulling me into his embrace.


There was a surprising warmth in his voice. It was almost as if he had forgotten my cheating.


“Hi, Daddy,” I replied.


“Mmm, I like that,” he said before kissing me full on the lips. “Let’s get my suitcase and get home.”


We didn’t have to wait long. The baggage carousel got moving rather quickly and his suitcase was out shortly after that. Minutes later we were heading north on the 405 freeway and heading for home. We chatted a bit before he announced he was tired of talking and pushed my head into his lap.


“I like your little girl voice. It’s very bimbo-like,” he told me while I sucked his cock. “I can’t wait to fuck your ass when we get home.”


By the time we pulled into the garage I was more than ready to stop sucking his cock. My jaw was sore and my lips were nearly numb. Unfortunately, he had other things on his mind.


“If your mouth gets too full to swallow press on the ridge under my cock. It’ll stop the flow,” he told me as he placed his hands on my head.


I was confused at what he was talking about. Then the taste of piss filled my mouth and I understood his meaning. This was different from the other times he had made me drink his piss. I was in control of it; stopping the flow when I got too full and then letting it resume when I had swallowed. Somehow, it was more humiliating and I felt lower than I had ever felt.


“Was that good, baby?” he asked after his bladder was empty.


“Yes, Daddy,” I said, smiling up at him.


He ignored the mascara that ran down my cheeks. He ignored the tears. He didn’t seem to care and, for some reason, I didn’t either. I earned my place as a toilet and could only pray that he would ease up on me soon.


“Let’s get inside,” he said, pushing me from him.


As we reached the bedroom he dropped his suitcase and began removing his clothes. “Get naked,” he told me. “Did you get the treadmill?”


“Yes, Daddy,” I said, offering up a little giggle.


“You know, Michelle,” he began, “I’m going to be heading to Japan in a month. I want to take you with me.”


“That would be fun, Daddy,” I said, slipping out of my outfit.


“One thing…”


“What is it, Daddy?” I asked.


“I don’t think that your name is a good name for a bimbo. Do you?”


“I don’t know. Is there a better name?” I asked, becoming more disgusted with myself and my little girl voice by the moment.


“I think so. How does ‘Brandi’ sound?”


I giggled at him, praying to all the gods who ever existed that he was joking. “That sounds silly,” I said.


“Well, bimbos are silly and I think they need silly names. I think we’ll change your name to Brandi,” he said. “What do you think?”


I fought down my anger for a moment, hesitating at my answer. For a moment I wanted to scream and tell him what a prick he was being.


“I think a silly girl with a silly name would be perfect for me. I could trust a girl like that,” he said.


My stomach knotted just then. He knew what he was doing and he knew I knew. So I swallowed my pride, smiled and giggled like a dim-witted bimbo, hating myself for it, and cheerfully replied. “It’s a good name, Daddy!” I said.


“Then it’s settled, Brandi!” he said with a smile.


“Settled,” I echoed.


“Let’s shower, Brandi,” he said.


He fucked me in the walk-in shower. First he made me suck his cock and lick his asshole. Then he pushed me to my knees, got behind me and fucked me. It felt good – like when he used to fuck me – until he fucked my ass. I hated ass fucking and prayed for the day when his anger would subside and we could make love like normal couples. But I knew I would have to endure his ire until then. So I bent my head down and took it in my ass, crying under the heat of the splashing water.


It was the next day when John showed me the pair of high heeled tennis shoes he had purchased for me to wear on the treadmill. I thought it rather an odd thing but he told me they were common in Japan. After presenting them to me John informed me I was to begin a daily workout routine on the treadmill. For the first week he only expected me to walk the treadmill for fifteen minutes at a time but that it would increase after the first week to thirty minutes twice a day and then to an hour.


“Your legs are nice but I think they can be a bit better,” he told me. I took it as a compliment even if it was a bit back handed.


“Okay, Daddy,” I said. “I’ll make my legs perfect for you.”


For the next month life was rather pleasant. I trained regularly on the treadmill, even learning to walk quite quickly with the mincing gait he insisted on. For my efforts, John was pleasantly complimentary and always took the time to let me know. Just the same, if I ever forgot my bimbo routine he would let me know with stern, if not unkind, words.


Unfortunately, while life was generally pleasant, our sex life was not. More often than not he would make me suck his cock or take it in my ass. I hated ass fucking. It didn’t hurt so much anymore but I hated it. Then, shortly before we were to head to Japan he announced that he no longer had an interest in my pussy.


“From now on,” he said, “I only want your ass and mouth. You may as well not have a pussy as far as I’m concerned.”


He kept true to his word.


Chapter 3



We took a cab from the airport to one of Tokyo’s best hotels. It was fairly early in the evening and John had made plans to meet up with two of his fellow business acquaintances for dinner that night. Having been cooped up at home for the last month I was more than excited.


“Make yourself up right,” I was told, as I began applying make-up in the bathroom. “I want you to wear your red PVC outfit tonight – the one with that shows your belly – and I want your make-up to match.”


I stuck my head out of the brightly lit bathroom for a moment to inquire what he meant by ‘right’.


“Red and white, is what I mean,” he said. “White face and whatever color your outfit is should match the color of your eye shadow and lipstick. I want plenty of blush, too. Like a Raggedy Anne. Black eye liner is always good, too.”


Mortified, I watched him in silence as he tied his tie. “Okay, Daddy,” I said, pushing back tears.


I ducked back into the bathroom and took a seat on the toilet, crying at how ridiculous I was going to appear. I was jarred from my self-pitying by a knock on the door and then John poking his head in and hanging my outfit on the door hook.


“Here it is, baby,” he said, smiling at me. “What’s wrong?”


“Nothing,” I lied. “I just poked myself with my eye liner.”


“Okay. See you in a few,” he said.


Drying my eyes, I got back to fixing my make-up. Thirty minutes later I stepped out of the bathroom wearing the red PVC outfit and looking like a black haired anime doll and wishing I could die.


“How’s this, Daddy?” I asked.


“Nice. Try putting some streaks in your hair,” he said, handing me a spray can of temporary red hair dye.


I smiled and took the can - hating myself and what I was doing - and headed back to the bathroom. It was then, as I looked into the mirror at my reflection, that the absurdity of the moment struck me. So many times I had made myself up in preparation for a night out. Each time I had done so was to please him; to make myself seem more attractive. For all that effort, this was what he really wanted. If this is what he wanted, I decided, this was what he was going to get. So I applied the hair dye in subtle, yet obvious streaks. Then, with a shake of my head and a stupid little practice giggle, I turned and headed out to where he waited.


He was waiting for me on the bed and watching TV. There was a smile my direction as he stood up and slipped into his dark blue blazer.


“Come on, we’re late for dinner,” he said, holding out his hand.


“Yes, Daddy,” I said, slipping into my bright red heels.


Down the elevator we went. A couple of Japanese business men rode the elevator, too. They were staring at me and talking to each other in Japanese. All four of us stepped off the elevator and into the lobby, the two Japanese men laughing and looking back at me as they hurried ahead of us.


Through the lobby we went, tourists and natives gawking at me. A glimpse in a mirror we passed reminded me why they all gawked at me. I looked ridiculous. Not really trashy but more like something out of an anime cartoon.


“This is what he wants. He wants a bimbo,” I told myself. “Don’t think. Empty your mind of thoughts and just be the bimbo he wants.”


My heart was beating fast as we stepped out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk. For several blocks we walked through the city, me with my quick mincing steps and him striding along normally. I felt so out of place; as if I were dreaming. Then, through the roar of engines and the honking of horns I heard myself as I walked. It was almost like hearing the gate of a horse as it runs.


“He wants you this way, ” I told myself again. “He dressed you like a bimbo. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Just be the bimbo.”


At long last we found our destination. We walked into the small but elegant restaurant and were immediately signaled to the back by one of his business acquaintances. I could feel the eyes of patrons watching me as we walked around tables and chairs.


As we neared the table I could see his friends and their wives. The two men, Tommy and Ben sat opposite each other wearing dark blue suits and light grey ties. They were handsome and well-groomed but it was their wives, Fujiko and Tomiko, who took my attention. Both sat with arched backs, thrusting their overly large breasts outward. They both had bleached blond hair cut in a bob with bangs that ended just above their eyebrows. Like me, they both wore PVC outfits, Tomiko in yellow and Fujiko in sky blue. Their eyes seemed more rounded than they should have been and their lips seemed overly full, as well.


Ben and Tommy stood as we neared the table and offered John a hand shake. I was introduced to them and they to me. Then Tommy suggested a re-arrangement of chairs so that the girls could ‘sit together and talk about their silly things’. So I sat across from John, flanked by the two faux blond Japanese girls.


It was Tomiko who first began talking to me, disgusting me with her exaggerated Japanese accent.


“How do you rike Japan?” she asked.


“This is all I’ve seen, so far,” I told her, barely able to contain myself.


“Oh, I see you new to this,” Fujiko said to me.


“What do you mean?” I asked.


“You speaka rike nomal Amelican,” she responded. “You no speaka rike Japanese bimbo yet.”


I was appalled and could barely contain myself.


“In time you wirr sound just rike us, Tomiko said and then giggled stupidly.


I dug my nails into my palm, angry at the ridiculously stereotypical sounds emanating from the two women.


“Don’t worry,” Ben spoke up. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, I think it’s cute.”


I smiled and thought to respond in terse fashion but John interjected before I could say anything. “Where did you get Tomiko’s boobs done?” he asked.


“A place just down the street. Would you like their card?” Tommy asked.


“Yes,” John said. “Do they do hair removal, too?”


“Of course,” Tommy said. “In fact, they did her entire body – her make-up, too.”


Tomiko blushed and then giggled. Fujiko giggled, as well.


Later, at the hotel and after undressing, I sat in the bathroom removing my make-up and reviewing the night. Neither girl had appeared unhappy but they didn’t appear very bright either. Was that what he wanted? Did he intend on making me like those two women? More importantly, if he did want it, was it something I could live with?


I stuck my head out of the bathroom to see him on the bed. He was naked and watching TV. For a few moments I watched the light of the TV play off the walls in the dim light as I considered the questions I had for him. It dawned on me as I watched him that he hadn’t said a word to me or anyone about anything other than permanent hair removal. That was something I could live with – even look forward to. Hell, permanent make-up – so long as it wasn’t outlandish – wouldn’t even be bad. I turned then, to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My breasts were a solid ‘D’ cup and looked even larger on my tiny body. Surely they were big enough. They certainly looked as big as the enhanced girls we dined with that night. With confidence then, I stepped out of the bathroom.


I padded to the bed, relieved to be out of my high heels, to a warm greeting. “You did very well, tonight,” he told me. “You looked beautiful, too.”


“Thank you , Daddy,” I said, smiling.


As I climbed into bed he pulled me to him and kissed me. It was deep and warm, as it had not been since I was caught cheating, and I felt suddenly light headed and happy. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight in his arms, whispering words of love into my ear. There was another kiss and then another. I was rolled to my back and the kissed again and again. The kisses flowed down neck and to my breasts and then down my body and between my legs. I moaned as he kissed my most private of areas and then arched my back as his tongue entered my sex. Kisses and tonguing turned to licking and tonguing of my most sensitive regions and I thought I might die from the pleasure.


“Does my little bimbo want to cum?” he whispered.


“Yes, Daddy,” I said.


Fingers entered me, wiggling their way inside and I began bucking. He spread me open, pushing in deeper as he licked me. Then it happened. There was no warning or buildup. There was simply an explosion of pleasure. There were my cries of pleasure and there was my orgasm. Then there was silence.


How long I lay silent I have no way of knowing. I was not coherent, nor was I incoherent. I was in a middle ground between the two. There was no care when he lifted my legs and pushed his cock into my ass and there was no pain. Neither was there any humiliation, resistance or disgust when he pulled from my ass and came in my mouth. I sucked him, I swallowed his cum and then I slept.


Chapter 4




It was Monday morning and John was headed for work. He dressed quickly after having me suck his cock. I was told, as he put on his tie, that Tomiko and Fujiko were coming by to take me shopping. It was not something I wanted to hear, preferring no company to their vapid conversation, but I agreed to go out with them. Then, before leaving, he gave me a passionate kiss.


“The girls are going to take you shopping. Go with it. Whatever they say,” he said before heading out the door.


I readied myself for their arrival, putting on the outfit John had laid out for me; a pink thong, a white PVC halter dress that was far too small and exposed both my tits and ass. My make-up, as per John’s orders was very much like some porcelain figurine – white face, pink eye shadow and blush.


As I made the final adjustments to my outfit, hoping to hide some of my ‘assets’ there as a knock on the door. Opening the door, I was greeted by the two girls.


“All you leady?” Tomiko asked me?


“Ready as ever,” I sighed, eliciting a giggle from the pair.


“You speaka so funny!” the girls said, nearly in unison, before giggling again.


Like me, both girls were wearing halter skirts. Tomiko’s was a bright red and Fujiko’s was yellow and I could swear their tits were ready to burst out. Mortified to be seen with them, and even more mortified to be dressed like them, I closed the door behind me and headed out of the hotel.


The day was bright and, as we stepped from the hotel lobby, I could feel the eyes of those we passed looking us over. I wasn’t the only one who noticed it, either. Both Tomiko and Fujiko commented on the watchers, giggling at their stares.


“They want fuck us,” Fujiko whispered in my ear. “They arr want fuck us ‘cause we so hot.”


“You like it then, huh?” I asked.


“Yes, I rike,” Fujiko said. “Make me feer hot and holny.”


Tomiko looked at me quizzically. “You no rike?”


“No, I don’t like it,” I told her.


“Don’t wolly, you wirr rike,” she said. “Make men holny make me holny. Then I go home. Fuck Benny hald. Make Benny cum hald. He rike rots and I rike rots.”


I was sickened. Not only by their vapid remarks but in how they spoke; it was like a bad porno.


As we walked down the street Tomiko pointed at a small boutique. A manikin, made up like an anime doll, stood just outside the door and its large window had several more. Each of the manikins were dressed in varying colors of PVC clothing and sported wigs of red, blue and black hair; all of them with pixie cuts that made them resemble my companions.


“We go hele,” Tomiko nearly shouted, taking my hand and pulling me hastily towards the store.


The colors and variance of PVC clothing was mind boggling. There were bustiers, corsets and skirts. There were pants and dresses, bras and panties. I had never seen such an assortment of plastic clothing – even on line.


“Blandi, come hele,” Fujiko called. “Rook…rook at this. This rook gleat on you!”


I followed the voice to find her holding a green and red plaid PVC skirt and matching bustier. Smiling as best I could I urged her to put it back.


“I don’t think so,” I said.


“No!” Tomiko said, drawing out the word. “It rook gleat!. Tly it on!”


The two girls pushed me towards the dressing room, insisting I try on the horrible outfit. Together, and handling me far too familiarly, they began pulling the clothes from my body. My resistance was minimal, knowing John would be unhappy with me if I made a scene and, within moments I was standing in nothing but a pink thong.


“You need lemove hail!” Tomiko giggled, rubbing the minor stubble my thong failed to hide.


“Yes! You go to crinic. Get hail taken away pelmanent!” Fujiko chimed in. “Arr ovel, you get no hail.”


I pulled away from the two girls, who were both rubbing over the stubble, tripping over my shoes and falling against the wall. Giggling, the two girls took my hands and pulled me upright.


“Put on,” Tomiko said, giving me the skirt.


I didn’t know quite what to do. I was embarrassed by their familiarity but I didn’t want to create a bigger problem with John. So, after a moment of confusion, I decided I needed to take a similar approach to Tomiko and Fujiko that I had with John; I had to be the bimbo.


Uttering a forced giggle, I took the skirt and slipped into it. Tomiko handed me the bustier and urged me to put it on, as well. As I slipped into the bustier Tomiko headed out of the dressing room and returned a moment later with a pair of matching high heeled shoes.


“You rook,” Tomiko said, turning me towards the tall mirror behind me.


It was a ridiculous look. It was sexy, too. My waist seemed to disappear and my breasts pushed up and out, the bustier barely offering enough cover.


“Come, we shop mole!” the girls said in unison and then giggled.


“Be the bimbo,” I reminded myself as I was pulled, barefoot and still wearing the plaid PVC outfit they had dressed me in.


Both Tomiko and Fujiko were excited and ran about the shop finding this and that for me to try on. High heels, plastic thongs, skirts and tops. Each time they found something new they would run over to me or call me over and hold it against me. Time after time I was dragged back to the dressing room and practically ordered to try on outfits, each one more ridiculous than the last.


“Oh, rook hele!” Fujiko said, finding a pair of red high heeled, thigh high plastic boots as I was ushered, once again, into the dressing room. “What size shoe you weal?”


“Um, four,” I said.


“Smarr feet. Okay, I get!” she said, rushing off.


Tomiko pushed me back to the dressing room and insisted I try on several more outfits. Fujiko returned with a red, black and yellow pair of the thigh boots she had found and I was forced to try those on, as well.


Finally, after what seemed like hours, we took our booty to the clerk, paid the exorbitant bill with the credit card John had given me and left the store. At the insistence of the girls I now wore the plaid outfit they had first chosen for me and the black, high-heeled thigh boots we had purchased.


“Ret’s go to runch!” Tomiko said as we exited the store. “You rika shushi?”


I affirmed her query, thanking all the gods that be that the shopping (at least for now) was over.


Lunch was a fairly pleasant affair. Most of the food was recognizable, though some was not. To my chagrin, some of the food was still alive and I found I could not stomach it. This, of course, brought giggles from the girls.


Surprisingly, I found them to be rather pleasant company, if a bit stupid. Oddly, and I suppose it was due to my new ‘be the bimbo’ attitude, I didn’t find myself recoiling from their empty headed chatter. I even found myself joining in with their silly giggles and stories.

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