I know alot of bimbo fashion is not something most people like. However is there anything that you personally don't like like or you think people can take to far. For me it is giant lips the kind that look like the candy lips people got as a kid.

I used to have this mindset of "girls shouldn't have piercings or tattoos", but I'm starting to think about getting either a tongue, nostril or belly piercing, however my main focus right now is to be a bimbo 100% and I don't want to compromise that with a piercing and maybe look off. What do you guys think?

Note: I'm talking about dainty, small, and feminine looking jewelry, possibly sparkly

I've been a lurker here for a really long time. Everyone here is really inspiring. I have started my bimbo journey last year, and have accomplished quite a bit so far in the past 7 or so months. I've started to dress more feminine, and gotten filler, botox, waxes, nails, pedicures, piercings (ears, nostrils, belly button, a failed tongue piercing which I want to redo), eyelash extensions and eyebrow lamination. I have also become very consistent with working out. I've lost about 19kg so far. I went from 74kg to 55kg. I now have baby abs. I plan on eventually getting multiple surgeries: from really big breast implants to rhinoplasty. When I feel more confident, I'll post pictures of my transformation.

I don't know where else to post this or who would understand, so if this is not your jam by all means do not engage. I've started writing an autobiographical tale about my bimbo psychology. The only thing changed in this are names. It would be nice meeting similarly minded bimbos or dollmakers who are also into the kink for it's mental submission.

Anyway, here's what I began! I want to keep writing more about my progress and yeah, hopefully you like it?

Becoming Daddy's Bimbo

It wasn’t like she had a particularly hard time meeting men. In fact, in her everyday Nadia noticed how men would scan her body quickly as she went to get a morning coffee, sometimes she caught the occasional gaze. But it was nothing like those girls, you know the kind — the walking sex dolls that seemed to congregate to the center of the city. With elegant, sleek hair that cascaded down their backs, doll like creatures who were hairless from the neck down, adorned with pretty acrylic nails, swollen lips and faces always wearing perfect makeup. The women who personified sex in their mannerisms; how their outfits complimented their curves to demand attention. And it worked. It caught hers and every other guy she noticed.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t fall in love, either. There were several men who found her nerdiness adorable. They’d hike and explore abandoned buildings, circuit bend and hack, create open source maps, forage the forest for mushrooms. She was the kind of woman guys were proud to bring to their family. She looked quite innocent and much younger than her age due to never wearing makeup consistently. Her wardrobe consisted of baggy artistic outfits which drowned the curvaceous silhouette she had.

She was proud to be a tomboy. It meant the world to be teach younger girls at makerspaces. When she worked on organic farms, her mentor would compliment her industriousness and willingness to learn. It meant being special.

It wasn’t like she wasn’t curious about being attractive, it simply felt unattainable. There were plenty of features her mother critiqued throughout her childhood which seemed to get worse with puberty: her nose was too big, hair too frizzy, legs too fat. What her mother cared about was academic excellence, so becoming the class know it all was what she did. Winning science fairs and writing competitions meant there would be a chance of praise. No matter if her mother ignored the success, she still tried to exceed expectations.

Gym class was her weak link. She spent most of her time tinkering away and reading, so as a little girl the most she did was ride her bike alone, over and over until she couldn’t breathe. That wasn’t enough though, to counter the bad diet and poor upbringing. During the physical fitness tests, she consistently scored last on the mile run. There were glimmers of activity during the baton passes during field days. I like running. And she even asked a few times to join a sport, to which she was pulled for a myriad of reasons: fouling too much during basketball or crying when she fell during figure skating. Anytime coaches spoke to Nadia's mother about her lackluster performance, it was the perfect reason to stop. Nadia's brother was the athletic one; the apple of her mother's eye. He was on track, with scouts attending the games for years who would speak highly of his innate ability and potential for pro. His equipment, uniforms, and diet were all expensive. So that's where the money went and if Nadia wasn't immediately the best, it was a waste of resources.

It wasn't like all her family hated her, no. She had a cousin growing up. Amanda had children young; 3 boys from 3 different men. Her cousin was petite and voluptuous, with a high-pitched voice. She smoked parliaments and drank vodka like it was water. Amanda was vivacious, outspoken and bold. Her laugh was infectious. Even though she looked like a total bimbo, Amanda was sharp. She was big in real estate and completely self made. But she was also kind. Her cousin always defended Nadia and would give the biggest bear hugs. During those hugs, Amanda's ginormous implants would almost crush little Nadia, but in a way it made her feel enveloped and safe. 

So no, Nadia never thought the pretty girls were dumb. Nor did she think they were always mean. But during high school? Life kept giving her reasons to believe otherwise.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to be popular, it was just that being precocious and chubby as a teenager meant she was an easier target for bullies. So, as some nerdy girls do, they find refuge in the internet. Maybe she was made fun at school all of those years ago, but the men she talked to at night in random chatrooms seemed to like her. They filled her little brain with all sorts of images and stories. Total filth, really. And that's when she became exposed to porn. Graphic, extreme porn of women getting slapped, choked, spat on - total abuse. And it confused her. There would be an immediate sense of exhilaration, mixed with dread, and finally acceptance. Acceptance that really big, fake tits turned her on. Acceptance that the sight of bleach blondes with their tanned and tattooed, pierced tiny bodies not only made her ridiculously wet, but that Nadia would be able to cum fastest when the thought of herself in that role. Not simply getting fucked or used in those videos; but to also look like that, act like that. Be a slut. Be wanted.

It wasn’t like she could ever be that, anyway. Her family was far too judgemental for that. So away those fantasies went to the mental box she relegated the shameful feelings to; compartmentalized and sterile from her everyday life.

Thankfully, Nadia made more than just weird creeps for friends online. She also became entrenched in the “scene” – back then she found her niche making css/html layouts for myspace and livejournal pages. She was respected and her quirky sense of humor online gained a bit of a cult following.

“Nana, when are you gonna do a hair reveal? I bet your new extensions are gonna be soooo cute, I really wanna see what you look like tho before you do it :D” – her best friend Quinn in Georgia pinged on aim one day. Nadia was comfortable with avatars, and photo editing. She wasn’t enthralled by the idea of disappointing her friend by how, well, ugly she was. But you can only hide for so long as a baby scene queen, so Nadia succumbed to the peer pressure and began posting high angled selfies.

For awhile, her hair was short and teased, dyed white, black and purple. She didn’t really know how to do winged eyeliner so instead went for black eyeshadow and cream eye pencils. Raccoon. Nadia was a baby raccoon. She was wearing a boy scout uniform she thrifted for two dollars. And the internet loved it.
“omg you’re sick!!!!”
“XD damn ur cute”
“wowowow yr actually so scene”
“what hairspray do u use? ITS BIG!!”

Quinn could not stop gushing either. As well as other boys from around the US. For once, Nadia was seen as attractive, and she loved every moment of it.

One of her only real-life friends she had made was absolutely prolific with hair and lovably flamboyant. Tyler was super excited to do Nadia’s hair because he never got to install long extensions before. They smoked weed together out of an apple and danced to MIA, then got down to business. The two decided to just dye her hair entirely black to go “full gothy on em.” Afterward, Tyler meticulously glued each weft throughout Nadia’s hair, making sure to keep her natural, short hair delineated from the extensions so she could tease it for an even more dramatic look. After hours of serious scene baby glow up time, Tyler grabbed his camera and exclaimed, almost shouting, “omg GIRL, we NEED to take selfies right now you look so hot I’m a literal GOD at hair, wow we gotta document this!”

It wasn’t like she didn’t feel pretty, sometimes. Moments like that raised Nadia’s self esteem. She actually felt like a badass with her best friend and was proud to show off the artistic bird’s nest Tyler created. They edited the photos together by adding their scene names with skull and bat emojis. Perfect. Time to upload.

The comments flooded in. Most were positive and encouraging, with other scene kids gushing about the hair transformation. But there was one which made Nadia squint, it was from Sam. Sam tormented her relentlessly when they were younger, and even living thousands of miles away and having not seen her in person for years, that didn’t stop her from continuing her assault on Nadia.
“You’re still fat, lol, trying to hide your double chin?”

It was enough to make Nadia hide deeper into herself; because yes, she was categorically fat for her age. Sam was tall, thin, conventionally beautiful. Her parents were wealthy, and she made it a point to remind everyone of their inferior lineage during their early years.
 
That consequent summer, Nadia starved throughout her advanced math summer school courses and walked everyday back home. She would go to parties and drown the self hatred. She began to skip school. Eventually, her mother sent her to live with her father. And all form of self expression was cut short under his draconian, conservative rule.

It wasn’t like she was good enough, anyway. But life unfolds in surprising ways, with unexpected turns that may spiral you down into madness.

Memories like this would unearth occasionally for Nadia to reminisce on her daily walks, and this particular montage was sparked a decade later in a country halfway across the world while watching a beautiful woman make a man trip while crossing the street.

“That must be crazy, literally making men fall all over themselves,” Nadia muttered to herself under her breath. The entire scene was incredulous. The woman pretended like she didn’t even see the pathetic guy do it. But everyone saw how he gawked. That woman was powerful in every feasible way. And it made Nadia curious and a bit envious.

Over time, it began eating away at her. And in her art it showed. Her installations and performances became centred around sexual objectification. She put on a show. Every other part of her life was great. She had freedom to live wherever she wanted, was in love with the sweetest person, and had a great group of friends throughout the continent that were a delight to know. It felt like she had hit a ceiling, somehow – that yes, stability was a wonderful experience to have, but that there’s an unknown part of reality she would never get to experience. Being beautiful, sexually desirable, not just because she was an earnest slut, but because aesthetically she was art.

“What if I become a bimbo, as art? What if I document the process? What if I become a real object?” would float into her mind, sickeningly delicious coos when her hands would be desperately rubbing her clit to numb the stress gooning to porn.

Nadia was happiest face down with a hand driving her head into a pillow. Being choked, completely immobilised, her brain would shut off and all she had to do was be a good hole to fuck. That was bliss. Before her boyfriend, years ago, Nadia played online and found a lot of success in gaining attention on dating apps. Even though she was chubby, she was fuckable. One guy said it: fuckmeat. You are a fuckpuppet. A cocksleeve.

What she didn’t have in looks, Nadia made up with being eagerness. A willingness to please. Her eyes would roll back as they’d force her jaw open while her head was hanging from the bed and filled with thick cock. All for that moment when they finally cum, they’d sometimes have a hint of vulnerability. They’d stroke her hair behind her ears or graze the curve of her upper back before rolling over. The first time she heard, “Good girl,” it was over for Nadia.

She became addicted to risky, dangerous situations. BDSM, or the mimicry of it, was a welcome respite from a life full of insecurity, obligations, and worry.  

Nadia worried about disappointing her family. She lived basically a double life throughout her early adult life. A religious household that forbids sex, drugs, and love would never understand her. Nadia did her best to fit into society, well, as best as a tomboy could. She dressed modestly. But there were these periods where her inner slut would take over. She’d dress in mini skirts, heels, and tights, with jewellery and highlighter with her brunette curls tumbling down to the small of her waist. In her mania, Nadia would go to clubs in San Francisco and dance for hours, coming home a complete mess. Sweaty, breathless and buzzing from all of the hands that held her short frame against their torsos, wet from their fingers invading crevices, rubbing her small pussy through her stockings, and completely ruined by the fact she was again alone as dawn broke.

Stability came later, with love and comfort. Serene, gentle love. A warm kind of love with homemade cookies and pizzas, with nights spent playing video games and watching anime. A love who thought she was the cutest little gnome, who wanted to kiss away her tears after birthday call disappointments and a partner who would reassure with a soft squeeze of her hand when the anxiety outside began to appear in her tapping feet.

But the itch began two years into her relationship. And the mental box top flew wide open.

Was everything she had done previously a form of self preservation from by not even attempting of being who she wanted to be so she wouldn’t be disappointed in failing? In looking like a clown? Why did she want to be told she was good? Why did she want to be held to higher, almost impossible standards?

Why did she want to be owned?

From then until now I’ve changed slightly

I'm looking for any stories, comics or whatever where a shy, conservative girl gets turned into a bimbo by a man. I'd really prefer if the girl either doesn't notice it happening, or doesn't want to at first but gets maybe convinced by a man with questionable morals/intentions. Key here is the girl going from innocent and naive to full on bimbo.

Bonus: I'm also looking for a story where a normal, maybe nerdy guy suddenly gets great power and uses it to fulfill his fantasies with girls he previously knows, that maybe didn't use to pay him attention or something. Something like the "Alpha" comic by losekorntrol. Thanks

Left. 2014 - 34 years old // Right. 2024 - 44 years old