Excerpt from the book Becoming 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.

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.

Chapter 5

It was late when I got back to the hotel room. John was laying on top of the thick comforter that graced the bed, still dressed in his suit and watching the news in Japanese.

“I see you got a few things, Brandi,” he said. “And, I should add, you look quite nice.”

‘Thank you, Daddy,” I said and then giggled. After spending so much time with Fujiko and Tomiko the silly giggle was almost natural.

“I’m a bit on the horny side,” he said as he got up and walked to meet me at the foot of the hotel’s bed.

I smiled and then giggled. “Daddy’s always horny. I’ll get naked for you.”

“No, we’re going out in a few minutes,” he said. “But I’m going to fuck your ass first and then I have a rather interesting surprise.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I said, cheerfully as he slipped around behind me.

He moved me, grasping my waist from behind and pushed me a step closer to the bed and then bent me over so that my hands rested in the middle of the bed’s end. Pushing up the plaid PVC skirt he pulled aside the thong I was wearing. He spread my ass wide with his hands, spit on my asshole, rubbed his cock across my hole and then pushed in.
He had taken my ass many times already so I was used to it, but it was still humiliating. I buried my face in the comforter as he took me, hiding my eyes from the large window and the multitude of buildings that could be seen. I hated being taken this way. It didn’t hurt. But it didn’t feel good. Not to me, it didn’t.

“I love that ass, Brandi,” he said as he began thrusting into me.

“My ass loves you, Daddy,” I replied in my bimbo voice.

“Would you like to taste your asshole?” he asked me.

He knew I hated it. He also knew my answer. “Yes, Daddy, I love tasting my asshole on your cock,” I said.

He pulled out of my ass and I turned around and kneeled in front of him. His cock was at my face the moment my knees touched the soft carpeting. I opened my mouth wide, as I always did, and let him push his cock into my throat. There was no gagging anymore. I had learned to open my throat so he could ‘fuck my face like it was my ass’, as he always put it. I wasn’t on my knees for long. He preferred my ass and I was soon bent back over the bed with his cock in my ass, pounding away as hard as he could. For some reason, he seemed harder than usual. His fucking seemed more furious and intense, as well. Then, just as I thought he might make me suck him off again, he came.

I rested my body on the bed, waiting for him to pull out and have me clean his cock. I always cleaned his cock. Even if it was soiled, I cleaned his cock and he never shied away from reminding me of what I was sucking off of him. This time was different, though.

“Stay put, Brandi,” he ordered as his cock slipped from my ass, “I’ve got a special surprise for you.

He left me and I could hear him rummaging through his briefcase. Only moments later I heard the clap of the case as he closed it.

“Reach back and spread your ass for me,” he said.

Resting the weight of my body on the bed, I reached back and spread my ass. He had never had me do this before and I was relieved that he couldn’t see the expression of humiliation I must have been wearing.

“Hold still, now,” he said.

Suddenly, my ass was no longer empty. Something was being pushed inside of me that was not his penis. He had me release my ass and told me to hold still again. There was motion, pressure and then the sensation of something pushing its way into my colon. The motion wasn’t straight in, at first, but more of a back and forth. Whatever it was would slip in and then be pulled back and then pushed in further. Then I felt it snake its way into my lower intestine - or maybe I just imagined it. Either way it was a horrible sensation.

“Look back here, Brandi,” he said.

I raised myself slightly, turning my head so I could see him standing behind me.

“Look at my cock and tell me what you see,” he said.

I glanced down and was immediately mortified. “I see a clear tube around your cock, Daddy,” I said.

“And where does it lead?” he asked.

“It leads into my ass,” I said, fighting back tears.

“And what do you think I’m going to do?”

I hesitated for a moment. I didn’t want to say the words, even though I knew I would. “You’re going to piss in my ass.”

I turned away from him and buried my head in the comforter once again, pulling it tight to my face so he couldn’t see the tears. But he knew how humiliated I was.

The warmth of his piss began to fill me up and, though I had drank his piss before, this was even more humiliating. Now I was a toilet from top to bottom and wondered how low I could sink.

At long last he was done and I thought the worst of it was over. But it wasn’t. He pulled the tube from me and then told me to hold still.

“This,” he started, as he began filling my ass again, “is a specially textured butt plug. It has three bladders. The inner bladder is specially textured so it can’t come out without deflation. While it acts as the main seal the middle bladder stretches your asshole to its limits and acts as a secondary seal. The outer bladder acts as an ‘O’ ring and is designed to keep the plug from pushing further inside. It also acts as an extra seal for your piss filled asshole.

The pumping began and I could feel it getting larger inside of me. Each pump made me cringe and I imagined my organs rearranging themselves to make room for the intruder.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“It feels horrible. Please take it out,” I begged. “Please, Daddy, take it out.”

The plug began to move about slightly and I held out hope for its removal. Then I felt my asshole begin to stretch and I realized he was inflating the middle bladder. It was only uncomfortable, at first, but then it became painful and I began begging him to deflate the horrible thing.

Again, I held out hope as the plug moved. Then I looked back and saw him squeezing the little ball hand pump and I knew he was inflating the outer ring.

“Please, Daddy, my ass hurts,” I begged.

I realized then that I was still calling him ‘Daddy’ and talking in my little girl voice. I told myself to stop and to demand he deflate the damned plug. I told myself to end this charade and that this was too much to ask. Then he unscrewed the pump from the plug and told me what a good girl I was.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I heard a little girl say.

It was the most humiliating and horrible moment of my life and, despite it all, I couldn’t bring myself to demand the plug’s removal. I wondered what was wrong with me and how I could accept such treatment and then, realizing I did accept it felt my humiliation grow further.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling my thong into place and then pulling my skirt down, “I’m famished.”

I walked with him, mincing my way down the hotel corridor, my insides sloshing with his piss and my ass wiggling with each step as it rebelled against the intruder. Once in the elevator I tried to push the plug from my ass but found that I was unable. I could think of nothing to say or think about except the plug buried inside me, corking me like a wine bottle. Then, when the door opened and we stepped out I remembered my motto, once again; be the bimbo. Suddenly, my humiliation, if not the discomfort, began to fade.

The night was bright with lights and the streets were crowded. I was bumped and jostled around as we fought through the crowd to the limousine that, unbenownst to me, awaited us.

Once in the car, John gave the driver directions and rolled up the partition that separated us from the driver. He smiled at me and put his hand on my bare thigh and then leaned over to kiss me.

“I know this is hard on you,” he told me, “I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do to you. But, and I am not saying this to be hurtful or mean, there is a lot of pain and anger still inside of me for what you did.”

I nodded and waited.

“The funny thing is, I had wanted our relationship to have this sort of feel to it. Not this extreme maybe, but there is something erotic about how Tomiko and Fujiko behave in public,” he said.

“Is that what this is about, Daddy?” I asked, softened by his acknowledgements.

“To a degree, yes,” he admitted, “Of course, as I already said, I have a lot of anger and hurt by the...you know. I mean, I know you were lonely, but it wasn’t my fault. I wanted to bring you with me. But you always said no.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “and I know you have to get your anger out. It’s just hard to deal with sometimes.”

“If it helps, I still love you. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t be angry...I wouldn’t have this need to let it out like this,” he said, “and I don’t know how long it will last. But, for now, if you do love me, you are going to have to deal with this and more.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I said.

He smiled and then pulled open his blazer and pulled out the round hand pump for the plug. My heart jumped and I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I was going to be free of the plug until he pulled the clear plastic tube from the other breast pocket. I smiled and then settled into the car’s black carpeted floor, lifted my skirt and unhappily prepared to receive another bladder of piss.

There was instant relief when the plug was deflated. That relief was followed by instant fear of the mess I might make when he began pulling it from my bottom. I cringed and squeezed my ass tight as he pulled the plug from my ass.

“Relax and let me pull the plug out,” he said.

I tried to cooperate. I tried to relax and let him pull it from my ass but it was nearly impossible until I realized I had nothing to worry about until it began tapering. Once it was removed I struggled greatly to relax my ass enough to get it between my butt cheeks.

Once I was free of the invading plug he began pushing the tube inside. That was even more of a chore and he had me wet it with my saliva on more than one occasion. Eventually, and after struggling with my fears, I was able to allow him to push the tube in my ass again.

“How do you feel?” he asked, after emptying his bladder and pulling the tube from my ass.

“Scared,” I said.

“Scared? Why?” he asked.

“I’m scared because if I relax I might make a mess,” I answered.

“Then keep squeezing that asshole shut,” he said. “I definitely don’t want you to make a mess.”

The ride was bumpy and each bump made me more certain I would lose control, making me wish I had the plug inside me again. As uncomfortable as it was to be plugged it was it was not so uncomfortable as what I was suffering now. Eventually, and only after much soul searching, I turned my head and looked back over my shoulder.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Brandi,” he answer.

“I can’t squeeze anymore,” I told him. “I’m afraid I’m going to make a mess.”

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “So, what should we do about it?”

I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to ask for it. He knew it and I knew he knew. But I had to ask. I needed that plug.

“Maybe you can plug me again, Daddy,” I finally answered.

“You want me to plug you again?”

“Yes, please,” I said.

He pushed the plug to my mouth and had me wet it. I licked it at first, only to have it pushed into my mouth. A few moments later, though it seemed an eternity, he pulled it free and told me to spread my ass. I was red...I had to be. My body was wet with perspiration and my humiliation level was at an all time high after having asked to be plugged. But there was nothing else I could have done and I knew there was no other way. Then, when he finally plugged me, I thanked him. That was the worst part. I was honestly thankful to have my ass plugged again.

We arrived at our destination, a very nice Japanese restaurant, nearly an hour later. It had been a long ride, made longer by the traffic and the fact that I was now carrying two bladders of piss in my ass. There was also knowledge that I would probably carry even more before the night was through.

Fortunately, though I was uncomfortable in my seat and had to lean slightly to one side, dinner was quite nice. We spoke of times gone past, good and bad, and of our future. It was only as dinner came to an end, and when he presented me with a beautiful diamond necklace, that I realized it was our anniversary.

“I didn’t get you anything, Daddy,” I said through my tears.

“You’re living my present,” he told me. “Just keep this up. Do what I say and keep being Brandi. Let me get my anger out and do what I need to do to feel right. That’s present enough.”

I nodded, feeling every bit the disloyal wife as he left his seat so he could stand behind me and fasten the necklace around my neck. He stood behind me for a long moment with his hands on my shoulders. Then, gently as you please, he knelt down and kissed my tear dampened cheek.

We lingered a little longer then, still talking and laughing occasionally. Then he pushed back his chair and stood.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Back in the limousine, we kissed passionately - like we hadn’t done in ages. Then he directed the driver to take us back to the hotel, rolled up the divider and pulled out the pump. An hour or so later, and after receiving two more bladders of piss, we reached the hotel, exited the car and headed to our room. Oddly enough, and despite the ache in my ass and the sloshing of piss inside me, I had a sense of pride wash over me. I had pleased him greatly. The look on his face told me as much.

Chapter 6

Our trip to Tokyo had lasted only seven days. During that time I had managed to acquire enough PVC clothing to require a new suitcase, while John had managed to fill a new duffel bag with oddities he was reserving as a surprise for me. The latter of which filled me with worry.

We had also managed to take a trip to the clinic recommended by his friends and had my body hair permanently removed. I was fearful, at first, having heard that it was rather painful. However the clinic’s head physician and his assistant Aya, who had undergone the procedure herself, assured me that such was not the case.

“The procedure is rather long,” Doctor Watanabe told us, “and will require several hours for complete hair removal. It is for this reason that we offer sleep through hypnosis. You will be asleep for nearly the entire period and when you wake you will be completely free of hair and with no memory of the procedure.”

He did not lie. My only memory of the entire process was when he sat me down and began to count backwards. Some ten hours later I was riding back to the hotel. There was some discomfort in the ensuing days but it was mild and short lived. Otherwise I was pleased with the results and, judging by John’s lustful attack when we arrived home, he was even more pleased.

We had been home a month when John called me from work. A possible client from was leaving for Tokyo tomorrow and John’s boss wanted him to show him a good time. I was told to wear an all black PVC skirt, bustier and my red thigh high boots.

“You’ve been a good bimbo since we got back,” he said, “and that’s who I want him to meet. So, don’t slip up.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I agreed. “I’ll be the perfect bimbo for you.”

He arrived home at seven-thirty on the dot. I was ready and waiting for him when the car pulled into the garage and, when I heard it, I ran to greet him.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said.

“That’s a good girl,” he told me.

Most times ‘good girl’ had made me cringe but for some reason, since we had returned from Tokyo, my reaction was quite positive. When he said it I nearly jumped into his arms from happiness.

It’s an odd sensation to realize when something as simple as a ‘good girl’ makes you happy. That was my moment and it made me think back to all the times he had called me his ‘good girl’, making me wonder why I had so detested it before.

He freed himself from my embrace, kissing me on the lips as he did so. “Come with me,” he said, as he headed to the bedroom.

“Tonight,” he said, as we entered the bedroom, “I want you to remember. more than ever, what you have become. My client is expecting me to have a well-behaved bimbo with no thoughts in her head except making me happy and fucking my brains out.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I said, giggling so naturally it was scary.

“You’ve managed to be a perfect bimbo since we got back, but I want to make sure you don’t slip up tonight,” he said as I watched him head to the closet.

The duffel bag he had gotten in Tokyo was pulled from the bottom of his closet and put on the bed. I watched as he unzipped it, reached in and pulled out one of his ‘surprises’.

“These,” he began as he held up two large steel balls, each nearly the size of his fist, “are going inside your pussy.”

“Those are going inside me, Daddy?” I asked, completely shocked by what he was telling me and wondering how in hell even one would go inside me.

“Yes,” he said. “Now, lay down on the bed and spread your lags for me.”

I hesitated a moment and then started for the bed and then hesitated again. “But Daddy, what if they fall out?”

“Lay down, Brandi,” he said, his voice taking on a slight stern quality.

I smiled at him, suddenly remembering my place, and moved to the bed and lay down on my back.

“Spread your legs and lift them up a bit, Brandi,” he told me, his voice becoming more stern.

I was slow to obey, fearing what was to come. Then he stepped around to the foot of the bed and sat down and then reached out and rubbed my pussy. It had been so long since he had touched me this way that I reacted almost instantly.

“You get wet quickly, Brandi. Good girl,” he said.

He was right. I was terribly excited and it reminded me how in love with him I was and how much he excited me and then I flashed back to the truth of things. I had cheated on the man I loved and was being punished for it. Suddenly, I was back in the moment of the night when he had confronted me. I could see his face; the tears and the pain and anger.

The first metal ball was suddenly at the mouth of my sex and it jerked me out of my memory. Still feeling the guilt, I thought “Push it in. Push them both in. Punish me.”

He rubbed it up and down and I could tell he was turning it and getting it wet with my juices. Then came the pressure. It was pressed against me and then inside me and my body stretched around it. He stopped for a moment and then pushed again. When it failed to enter me he reached over to the duffel bag and dragged it to him. I closed my eyes, waiting for my punishment; my just punishment. In a moment, the metal ball was back at my hole and being pushed in. I was stretching; grimacing from the pain. Then it was in. He pushed it further in with his fingers and then I felt the other ball against my thigh. That, too, was pushed in.

“Good girl,” he said again, filling me with pride.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I said.

A long moment passed. He was stroking me, occasionally pushing his fingers inside me and making the balls go deeper inside me. Then it hit me; how would the balls come out? I opened my eyes as the question was suddenly voiced.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “They have a chain so I can pull them out. They’re attached to each other. I can pull them out more easily than I put them in. Now, turn over and get on your knees.”

As I moved to obey his command I turned and got to my knees, grunting as the balls moved about inside me.

His cock was at my sex almost immediately. He rubbed it back and forth between my labia. Then he brought his cock to my ass and pushed in. The fucking was hard and fast and he came more quickly then he had ever done before. I wanted more. The balls felt so good rattling around inside me that, for once, the ass fucking was too brief - far too brief.

He pulled out and quickly replaced his cock with the clear plastic tube he used to fill me with piss and I knew the night would be long and difficult. Just how difficult I had no way of knowing.

“The limo should be here shortly,” he said as he finished inflating the plug. “Straighten up and meet me in the living room.”

I stood and felt the balls fall inside me. Slowly then, I adjusted my thong and skirt into place. Each movement was torturous; erotically so. Then I took my first step and felt the balls shift inside me. Another step and then another and I felt myself getting wetter and more needy. Never had I been so thankful for a seat as when I sat myself on the couch to wait for John.

The limousine arrived some twenty minutes later. As we headed out the door I could concentrate on nothing but the metal balls inside me. Each step was a mix of misery, pleasure, humiliation and excitement as the metal balls were moved and I imagined the plug in my ass acting as a spoon to stir the balls around inside me. Half way to the car I stumbled and almost fell but John caught me and nearly carried me the remainder of the way and sat me in the car seat beside him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, as the driver closed our door.

“Light headed,” I whispered.

After the driver entered the car, John handed him a piece of paper, I assumed with directions, and rolled up the divider to close us off from the driver and then turned on the overhead lights.

“I imagine you’re pretty excited, right now,” he chuckled. “A bit horny, maybe?”

I affirmed his query with a nod of my head and a sigh and then collapsed against the soft leather seat.

“It’s the balls inside you. They have a secondary ball inside them that tends to move about with each step you take. It makes them vibrate,” he told me. “I imagine you will be a wet mess by the time we get home.”

“Probably,” I said, sighing as I spoke. “I don’t know if I can take this, Daddy.”

He pulled me against him and then told me how beautiful I looked, making me wince and smile at the same time.

The drive seemed excruciatingly long and I feared I would climax with every bump. For some reason, and I don’t know why, I didn’t want to climax. Maybe it would have been too humiliating. All I know is that I fought against cumming. Eventually we made it to the freeway and the ride smoothed.

“I thought limos were supposed to ride smoother,” I said, making him chuckle a bit.

“This is as smooth as they come, Brandi,” he replied, chuckling as a quick braking of the car made me whimper again. “How’s the plug feeling?”

I thought for a moment and concentrated on my ass. “I can’t feel it.”

“You will in a second,” he said. “I have to piss again.”

Had I been able to think I might have noticed that he had to piss more frequently when he intended on using my ass as his urinal. As it was I could hardly concentrate on anything but the sensations caused by the balls moving inside me as I crawled to the red carpeted floor of the limousine.

“You know,” he began, as he started the deflation process, “you really have behaved to my liking since we got back. If all goes well tonight I intend on rewarding you later.”

“I would like that, Daddy,” I said.

Usually, he would rest the plug on the floor when he removed it. This time he brought it to my lips. It was an automatic response these days to open my mouth and, as dirty as it may seem, I hardly gave it a thought when I sucked the plug into my mouth.

Several times, as I recall, I whimpered as he filled me with another bladder full of urine. Bent over as I was the balls seemed to move more frequently inside me and I could swear I could hear them clanging against each other with each bump in the road. I was so overcome with need that I never even noticed him pulling the plug from my mouth and then sealing my ass again.

At long last the car came to a halt. We waited for several minutes and then the doors opened and a largely built Japanese man and his American wife entered the car.

I think his name was Kozan, but I’m not sure. John addressed him as Mr. Ito and she was called Yumi; not her real name, I was told.

As we road to our destination I couldn’t help but stare at the girl, jolted from my fascination only by the occasional bump. She had an entirely phony appearance, as if she were always posing and she spoke much like Tomiko and Fujiko, though it seemed to come with more of a struggle to enunciate thanks to her overly full lips. Her eyes seemed unnaturally large and slightly slanted, her eyelashes were impossibly long and she wore a skin tight PVC bustier that did little to hide her constantly hard nipples or her ridiculously large breasts. Likewise, her PVC skirt was skin tight and far too small for her ample behind. All this was capped off by platinum blond hair that framed her strange Japanese/American face in a neat little bob.

Dinner was held at a Jazz club near the airport and few things, other than Yumi and my constant need, stand out. Truly, the night was a blur of color, noise and wanting misery; my only clear memories being Yumi’s constant comments about how small my ‘tittes’ were, John and Mr. Ito agreeing they could be bigger and a moment of humiliation when I voiced my frustrations by announcing how badly I needed to cum before lapsing into a strange daze.

My next memory was of John pissing in my ass again after we had dropped off his client. We talked. I know we talked but there is no memory of what was said. Then we arrived home and he emptied my ass in the bathroom. He washed me. I know he did because he always washed me. Then I came. I don’t know if he fucked my ass or pussy. I don’t even know if he fucked me. All I know is that I came. Then came the morning.

I was alone and wondering where I was when I woke and then realized I was home and in bed. I sat up and stretched, wondering where John was and what day it was. Was he at work? Was he home? I didn’t know. I shook my head and then slowly stepped out of bed and felt the unmistakable shaking of the metal balls. They were still inside me.

My first reaction was to pull them out. I couldn’t go the entire day with the balls inside me. Then I realized it wasn’t an accident. He wanted them in me and I cursed him.

“Damn it, Daddy, why did you leave these inside me?” I said out loud as I headed to the shower.

Each step made the balls rattle around inside me and I cringed as my arousal grew. It was not so arousing as it had been last night and, as I turned the shower on I had high hopes that I could survive the day without becoming overly excited.

After my shower, which was easier than I had thought it might be, I headed to the kitchen to make myself breakfast. I cursed with each step as I realized that my short mincing steps added to the motion of the metal balls.

“No more mincing until Daddy gets home,” I told myself and then cursed again when I reverted.

I reached the kitchen to find a note from John.

Dear Brandi,

I got a call early this AM from my boss, Don. Apparently, we made quite an impression on Mr. Ito and he wants us to come to Japan and discuss further plans regarding my company’s marketing campaign for his firm. In other words, we got the job!

Don said to bring you along with me as you were as much responsible for Mr. Ito’s choosing to go with our company as I was. So, pack our bags and plan for a two week stay.

Love you,
Daddy

With breakfast immediately forgotten, I turned on my heels and went to the bedroom to pack.

Shortly before John arrived at home he called me an gave me instructions on how to dress.

“Wear your white PVC skirt, the red PVC bustier and a red thong. I want you to pull the steel balls out, wash yourself and the balls. Also, I want you to get my duffel bag out of the closet. Leave the balls on top of the bag so I they’re handy.”

He entered the house at around four-thirty and found me sitting on the couch dressed exactly how he wanted me. I stood immediately and ran over to greet him. We kissed and held each other in a warm embrace and I realized that, despite the misery he caused me, I was happier now than I had ever been.

“I missed you, Daddy,” I said into his ear before releasing him from my arms.

He held me by the shoulders and smiled. “I missed you too, Brandi. Did you get everything ready?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I said. “the suitcases and the bag are right behind you.”

He glanced around and then stooped to the duffel, set the metal balls to one side and began fumbling with the zipper. “Go to the couch and bend over.”

My heels thumped on the carpet as I moved to the couch and bent over, apprehensive of what new torture he had in store for me. The sound of the duffel’s zipper made me tense. I thought to look around to see what he was pulling from the bag but decided I didn’t want to know. Then I realized how silly I was being - like a child pulling the covers over his head to protect himself from his imagination. Still, I didn’t look. I couldn’t.

“Did you look in the bag?” he asked as I head him approach me.

I cursed myself inwardly for not thinking of checking the bag. “No, Daddy, I didn’t even think of it.”

“Were you as excited today as you were last night?”

I thought for a long moment before realizing that the arousal I had felt today was nothing compared to the arousal I had felt last night.

“No,” I said. “Just a little excited.”

“That’s because the plug wasn’t in,” he told me. “As it was explained to me, the balls are hollow and have smaller balls inside. Each ball is magnetically charged and so is the metal core of the plug. Basically, the magnets, combined with your own movement, makes the outer balls move around erratically while the inner balls tend to vibrate. Rather ingenious, if you ask me.”

There was a sudden cool wetness on my ass and then the pressure of something being rubbed against my hole and then more wetness.

“I’m going to put a set of plastic balls in your pussy for the trip so we don’t set off security,” he said as he started pushing them in. “and a gel plug in your ass. I want you to get accustomed to being full most of the time. Besides, it’ll keep you aroused and I like that.”

“Okay, Daddy,” I said, torn between excitement and dread.

Once I was filled, he pulled my thong into place and stood me up, directing me to straighten out my skirt. Then we headed out the door.

Purchase Becoming Bimbo