Bambi or Bust Pt. 03

Back in the present, I was just wrapping up the final task of my workday. I felt numb, empty, and for the past hour my brain had been screaming at me to stop and go listen to some more files. I told you it was addictive, didn't I?

I was like a junkie stuck in police custody, watching the arresting officer (in this case, my automaton body) fill in some paperwork achingly slowly when all I needed was some medicine. I glared at the fingers that rattled against the keyboard in front of me, not even registering that they were attached to me. Fortunately, my mind was distracted by the flawless bubblegum pink nail art that extended half an inch past their tips, and I quickly became engrossed in the way the swished and undulated with the typing. I soon zoned out, having a bit of a blonde moment, and before I knew it my body had clicked send, logged off and I was back in control.

Immediately the numbness faded and was replaced by burning libido. I stood up shakily and swept down the hall back to the bedroom. With the efficiency of a soldier assembling a rifle, I grabbed the nearest dildo and slotted it on to my fucking machine, slathering it in lube with my other hand. Turning around, I took up another phallus and hungrily jammed it into my mouth. A 'pop' sound echoed in my empty head as the head pushed its way into my throat, depressing the metaphysical button that had been installed there by the voice and allowing me a tiny amount of self-control.

The terms of my conditioning meant that I could only remove items of Bambi's 'uniform' while I was gagging on cock. It was a deliciously restrictive rule and one that I never had any intention of resisting. By now it had become second nature to always have something dick-shaped on hand in case I ever needed to undress. Coupled with Bambi's penchant for changing her outfits about seven times a day, each one an elaborate ensemble of accessories and difficult fasteners, it meant my deepthroat skills were in constant demand. Excellent preparation for what I seemed to be becoming.

My mouth was occupied, my hands were free, and the need to be filled was still coursing through me. I yanked down my thong and fumbled with the buttons on my blouse until my breast forms were hanging freely, their adhesive backing pulling pleasantly at the sensitive skin around my nipples beneath. I maintained suction on the dildo in my mouth while swiftly arranging a pouffe to lean on during the process. I bent over it, aligned my rear with the shaft of the machine and started it on its lowest setting. A sensual purr hummed past the invader in my throat as the rings of my rectum were parted by slick silicone. I let it press on until the entire shaft was sheathed in my bowels, and remotely flicked the machine off.

One final step remained. Ignoring the river of drool welling at the base of the cock in my mouth, I swung a leopard-skin baguette bag down from my shoulder. Inside, nestled next to condoms, lipstick and other feminine necessities, was my phone and a pair of wireless earbuds. I slipped these in and let my thumb fall on a random playlist. The voice began just as the machine resumed fucking me, and I drifted off into a dizzying dreamland of pleasure.

***

Getting fucked was Bambi's favourite way to wake up. One shaft pistoning in and out of her rear, the other gliding through the 'O' of her lips -- this is what she had been born to do. With the voice in her ears telling her what a good girl she was, she enthusiastically wiggled and thrummed between the two cocks like a base guitar string playing a sensual groove. Beneath her, precum drooled from the tip of the cage, gathering as a puddle of pearlescence on the hardwood floor. There had been a vague, passing concern in her otherwise empty mind that her old-self might have been annoyed with her, might not have let her out to play. This then was a welcome surprise! Bambi took it as a sign of approval, as well as permission to take things even further. She continued sucking happily as the playlist ran on.

Two hours later, she was outside again, strutting the sidewalk like it was her own personal runway. A cool breeze swished against her stockings and tested the tensile strength of the hairspray holding her coiffed curls in place. Once again, she was dressed to impress. Rhinestones sparkled from the asymmetric straps of her hot pink satin mini dress, so close-fitted it made the term 'bodycon' sound baggy by comparison. At her thigh, a slit came up high and wide, fringed with further rhinestone-embellished tassels that sparkled like tinsel and gave scarcely a curt nod toward modesty. The square neckline cut across just above the stiff nipples on her breast forms, which Bambi had taken extra care to blend in and contour to look as natural as possible. There wasn't a great deal on underneath. A dress this tight showed every line of lingerie; it really called for commando. Bambi had compromised with a tight thong gaff to contain the bulging cage and large plug in her rear. A tiny bag, skyscraper heels and lashings of glittery jewellery to match the rhinestones and the look was complete.

She was enjoying the open air of the warm summer evening and revelling in her new freedom. Saturday had been such a blur for her. All the new feelings from being outside without permission had been overwhelming. She'd waiting until evening time and made it out of the building without seeing a soul (disposing of the boy clothes in the process). Out on the street, she'd let her heels carry her in a random direction. In no time at all, she was hopelessly lost in the concrete jungle. A grid system is famously hard to navigate, right? Every corner looks the same!

She had wondered aimlessly for about an hour that night. The world seemed endlessly fascinating to her; the experiences of her past had been filtered by her old-self's perception. But now that she was in command, everything was suddenly much crisper and more vibrant. Shop fronts that previously could only be given furtive glances now had Bambi admiring openly, gazing at all the pretty outfits on display. Her walk took her past a tanning salon - one of these places that had stripped away any need for human interaction. On an impulse, Bambi went in to check it out, exiting a minute later thoroughly baffled by the signs' talk of apps and ID and cameras and payment. Someone would have to explain it to her later, she decided.

By this point her feet were starting to get tired. Even wearing heels constantly around the apartment was little preparation for a multi-mile urban stroll. The awe and excitement faded to confusion. Bambi had no idea where she was, or even what direction home was in. No money to pay for a cab, no friends to call on for help, no energy to go much further. Things were looking desperate... That was, until she caught the eye of a muscle-bound bouncer guarding the door to a nightclub she was passing.

She veered over to him giddily - he must have thought she was drunk. Fixing a seductive smile on her face, Bambi said in her best bimbo voice, "Hi handsome! Wanna help a girl out?"

The stone-faced bouncer narrowed his eyes at the figure in front of him. Behind the clothes and the makeup, Bambi had a mannish frame and bone structure, so she didn't exactly 'pass' up close. Still, she didn't seem to care, and neither did he. He'd seen dozens of quirky characters pass by him that night alone -- this girl didn't even make the list.

"If you want to get inside, I'll need to see some ID," he said stiffly, bracing for an argument. For some reason, women who spent that much time on their makeup almost never seemed to carry ID, as if they weren't attempting to make themselves look younger in the process.

Bambi blinked in surprise. "Get inside? No! Well, not unless you, like, want to..." she gave him a wink. "No, I just need some cash to, like, um, pay for a cab home, and I was wondering if I could blow you for it!" She giggled. It was an ace performance: cute sing-song voice, dexterous tongue wetting the lips as an invite, eyelashes batting demurely to add a touch of innocence. All the tricks she'd picked up from porn.

It was the bouncer's turn to be surprised. The girl had shot up the list of interesting people he'd met, that was for sure. He gave an embarrassed cough, even as his cock swelled at the prospect. "Er, no ma'am, sorry, I don't think so. I really can't do that while I'm working, and I don't have any cash on me anyway." The last part was a lie, but it didn't matter. He could see the tears welling in the strange girl's eyes after his first words. The sting of rejection was stitched across her face. Bambi's first chance to suck a flesh-and-blood phallus had been slapped down instantly.

The man hurried to try and salvage the situation. He hated seeing people cry. "Look," he said gently, "you can try a place I know just down the street. A buddy of mine works there and he says they're always doing trades like that. Black Rose Tattoos, it's called -- you can see the sign from here. Go in and ask for Jay, tell him Big John from the Oasis sent you. Tell him what you need and ask him what he wants in return, that's my suggestion."

"Good luck girl, hope you get home safe," he added with a rueful smile.

Bambi sniffed, carefully blotted her eyes dry and smiled back. Then, abruptly, she threw her arms around the bouncer and pecked him on the cheek. Her lips close to his ear, she murmured, "Thank you so much! Maybe I can come back some time when you're not working, so I can find out why they call you 'Big John'." She left a parting giggle echoing behind her as she sashayed away down the street.

***

On Monday night, Bambi was headed back to Black Rose Tattoos. She had arranged to meet Master M there by text. He had seemed annoyed that her old-self hadn't bothered to call him after it had woken up, as if her alter-ego had disrespected him somehow. Bambi tried to explain the situation, how her old-self would have woken up without even knowing who this guy was, but rational arguments weren't her forte and her new Master was too easily offended. Eventually, she had placated him by promising to let him meet her old-self after she got to the tattoo studio.

The walk took her the best part of half an hour. She had got lost twice and had to check her phone for directions. The streets were fairly quiet, the nightlife dull at the start of a new week. There was a smattering of other pedestrians though, and Bambi gave a satisfied giggle whenever one of their heads turned to watch her pass. The conditioning sent pleasurable pulses of pink electricity through her every time this happened. By the time she'd reached the shop, Bambi was a panting mess of lustful emotions.

Fortunately, the answer to these needs was standing before her, muscular forearms folded across an equally strong chest, brown-booted foot tapping impatiently on the tile floor, a frown that turned into a superior smirk when he saw Bambi push open the door, a growing bulge in his skinny jeans as she threw herself at him.

He pulled her in close, one hand clamping around the globe of her ass, the other gently squeezing her neck as he brought her face close. Even in Bambi's stripper heels, her eyes were still only level with his mouth, so he had to stoop a little to claim a kiss from his possession's lips.

"I've been waiting," he said. It came out in a low guttural growl that sent a shiver down Bambi's arched spine.

She giggled and flashed him a brilliant smile. "Hehe - sorry Daddy, it's just the, like, street picture thing you sent me is so confusing!"

He glared down at her for a moment longer before deciding to let the issue drop. Fucking bimbo, he thought to himself, can't even read a map. He relinquished his grip and let her stumble back a few paces.

"Well?" he said expectantly. A vacant look remained plastered across Bambi's face. He rolled his eyes. "You said you would let me meet your 'old-self'... Are you able to do that here?" There was a dubious tone in his voice that clashed with the aura of confidence he exuded. Taking control of a sub who had hypnotised themself so completely was a new experience for him.

"Oh! Um, sure!" she said, extracting a small dildo from her purse. She caught the quizzical look her master shot her, and quickly explained, "I just like, need to suck on something while I get undressed. Otherwise, it's so hard for me to remove my uniform!" She giggled and tugged playfully at her dress hem to demonstrate.

"Is that so? Well, why waste those pretty lips on rubber when you've got the real thing right here?" he said, grabbing his crotch with a smirk. "Be a good girl for me Bambi and drop for cock right now."

He'd used those words deliberately, having memorised the short list of triggers while researching Bambi Sleep the night before. The effect was immediate and took him aback. Bambi let out a lewd moan, eyes rolling back as she sank to her knees on the grimy floor of the tattoo parlour. A string of drool was already hanging from her glossy bottom lip by the time she crawled the few feet to her master's crotch. He obligingly unzipped himself for her and fished out his fairly impressive member. Eight and a half inches of arrow-straight, nut brown babymaker, bouncing and swaying hypnotically. The bimbo beneath him gave an excited gasp before craning her neck to swallow the cock whole. She fluttered her lashes in pleasure as she bottomed out, her nose touching his mons, taking deep satisfaction in the low groan this elicited from him.

With Bambi's mind now wholly focused on the cock down her throat, her hands moved automatically to undress her. Being on her knees made things difficult, and the ultra-tight satin dress and fiddly lingerie added to the challenge, but after ten minutes of expert sucking, wiggling and writhing, she just about managed to slip off the gaff, leaving herself totally naked aside from the cage. To Bambi, it felt like clouds descending inside her mind. Everything turned grey and fuzzy and boring. She just kept mechanically sucking as she waited for her old-self to extract itself from the box and retake control.

***

I've grown used to waking up naked and with a cock jammed down my throat. It's how life goes with Bambi. What was new was having that cock be made of flesh instead of plastic, and connected to a large black man whose face was contorted by the act of cumming in my mouth. My eyes widened with surprise and I pushed at his muscular thighs to try to get away. A powerful hand entwined itself with my hair to hold me in place as spurt after spurt glazed my gullet.

This was not my first time swallowing cum -- eating one's own load is a rite of passage for most sissies -- but I'd never really gelled with the experience. The bitterness, the consistency, the lingering taste and mouthfeel, the lingering sense of shame. Now though, jacked up on Bambi's horny endorphins, I surprised myself with how well I took it. Swilling the milky goo around my mouth, I made sure to gather every drop before gulping it swiftly down. In the back of my head, I heard a ghostly giggle. She was enjoying this, I thought.

"Hello princess," said the stranger. He was wiping his cock on a small hand towel, which he then tossed towards a nearby sink and zipped himself up. As his manhood disappear back behind his jeans, I realised I was making 'the face' again and quickly shook my head to try and clear it. I closed my mouth and went to stand up. "Stay," came the command, like an owner speaking to a disobedient dog. I settled back on my haunches unquestioningly. "Good girl."

Bambi moaned inside my mind as a shiver of pleasure pass through me. It certainly was more powerful, hearing these triggers said by a real person and not just a synthesized voice. My clit strained against the steel of the cage. His eyes never left me as he walked over and dragged a stool across to sit in front of me. I dimly took in the equipment, the art on the walls, the grime on the floor. I surmised that this was the origin of my nice new tramp stamp, and mentally scrambled to check for patches of throbbing skin to signal that Bambi had had more work done. Fortunately, I found no such indication.

At length, my eyes settled back on the man before me. Seeing my dear-caught-in-the-headlights look, his mouth widened in a smile, but the rest of his expression remained firm and predatory. "Hello princess," he repeated.

I tried to reply, but found my mouth dry despite its recent basting. Eventually, I croaked out, "Hello, Master M."

"Good guess, my little princess. You're not such a dumb bimbo as your better half, it seems. Although, you can't be that smart, given the position you're in!" He tutted and wagged a finger at me; he was treating me like a child. I pouted sullenly but remained quiet.

"Oh yes," he continued, "Bambi told me all about it on Saturday. Well, she said as much as she was able to, and I filled in the rest after a bit of research. Seems like some pretty powerful shit, this hypnosis programme -- lots of people saying, 'don't try it, it ruined my life', shit like that... But you just went right ahead, didn't you slut? I bet just the thought of it made your clit hard, didn't it? Yeah, you know I'm right -- you sissies are all the same. But now look at you: broke, brainwashed, cock-addicted, soon-to-be-evicted. Seems you came to me at just the right time."

He paused and lent forward, looking at me critically. "Stand up and do a twirl for me princess. Let me inspect the goods."

I shivered a little at this objectification, but mutely complied with the instruction. Shuffling daintily in a small circle, I could feel his eyes penetrate my naked, goose bumped flesh down to the bone. After one full revolution, he put up a hand to stop me and gave an appreciative hum.

"Mmm-mmm. Girl, you'll do fine. Ever since Bambi came in wearing that body the other night, looking for some cash to get home and willing to accept some artwork from my apprentice in return, I've been making plans. I'll explain, but you're getting me all worked up princess. Get back on your knees and make my balls happy while I talk."

At that, I faltered. Was I really going to willingly degrade myself for this man I barely knew? Should I just leave now, try to forget the whole thing?

He saw me hesitate and shook his head wryly. "Now, now. You heard what I said, and Bambi does as she's told."

Like a puppet with its strings cut, I dropped to the floor immediately. My knees banged painfully against the tiles, but I scrambled forward nonetheless and was soon fumbling with his zipper. Before I'd fully processed what he'd just said, I felt the warm squishy feeling of a testicle resting against my tongue. I blinked in surprise -- I had no idea why I'd done that.

"Haha, that's a good girl! You can't resist it, can you?" he said smiling down at me.

I moaned incoherently as my tongued lapped up his acrid crotch sweat. Before my eyes, he took one large, tattooed hand and started luxuriously stroking his cock, coaxing a bead of pre-cum to the tip. I stared at it longingly but continued my scrotal ministrations. Clearly any free will to disobey this man had been stripped away by the files. Mindlessly licking and slurping, I tried my best to pay attention to his explanation.

"Oh, just like that, yeah," he grunted before continuing. "Well, princess, you've got yourself into quite a situation, haven't you? Constantly dressing up like a cock-addicted slut, but too afraid to show it to the world. Spending all your money on clothes and toys so you can't afford to pay your rent. Struggling to hide your true self from your colleagues, neighbours, friends and family. It sounds to me like it would be much easier for you to just give in." He snapped his fingers at these last words, sending a shiver down my spine.