Bambi or Bust Pt. 04

So here I was; a thoroughly average guy with a few fucked-up kinks, trapped by his own stupidity into becoming a full-blown bimbo whore. How could I have been so naïve? The warning signs could not have been more obvious if they had been flashing neon. Was it just hubris, like Icarus flying too close to the sun? Or deep down, did I want this to happen? Did I want my old, boring life to unravel in this way and force me down a path of hedonism? There was no way to know. The files had long ago eroded my ability to discern my true desires from the ones imprinted upon me.

The shock of meeting Master M and its consequences left me numb as I exited the store. Out on the street, a personal hell awaited me. I was instantly conscious of my appearance, dolled up to the nines in this attention-grabbing uniform. I tugged the hem of my satin dress down in a futile attempt to cover my stocking tops and set off in an unladylike slouch. Trying to walk along with my shoulders hunched and my head bowed soon proved impossible in six-inch stilettos, so I switched to a fast stride. Chin up, eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the glances of passers-by, ignoring the glistening tears that streaked my mascara. My heels clicked away like a metronome, and I soon found myself drifting into a trance-like daze.

The next thing I remember was letting myself back into my apartment. Whether Bambi had taken over or whether I'd just got home on autopilot, I wasn't sure, but the conditioning had certainly been doing its job. None of the trapped-animal anxiety that had filled me when I left Master M remained. I was suffused instead with erotic excitement, eager to go further, to see where this new development would lead. My clit swelled in its restrictive housing. My mouth and ass-pussy begged to be filled. Slamming the door behind me, I raced along to my bedroom to satisfy these needs.

An hour later, I slumped to the floor in a puddle of my own pleasure. Sex toys were scattered around me like a witchcraft sigil. Some were realistic cocks, others fantastical imaginings of mythical appendages, yet more were vibrating beads and wands and eggs and things that looked like they were designed for dogs rather than humans. Myriad liquids mingled in their crevices: sweat, drool, lubricant, semen -- I was glad I'd changed out of the easily stained satin and into the luxurious slipperiness of latex. A powder-pink basque hugged my curves and held up rubber stockings, accented in cream ruffles and frills. A matching pair of stripper heels drummed delicately on the floor as my legs shivered with the aftershocks of my final orgasm. I lay for a while, glassy eyed, catching my breath, my mind happy, blank and empty.

My post-masturbation ritual was well-established by now. A shower and enema to clean away the shame and the lube, and similar for the toys in the sink. Then dress, reapply make-up and head to the kitchen for a light meal. According to my smart watch, I burned nearly as many calories in these sessions as in a half-hour cardio workout! By the time I was done, there was another text waiting for me from Master M.

"It was so good to meet the other side of you tonight, Princess. I'm really looking forward to seeing where we can take this together. You and Bambi are going to be very good girls for me, aren't you?"

Attached to this message was a picture, taken from above, of his glorious chocolate cock, throbbing and veinous, oozing a dollop of pearlescent pre-cum. The sight of it elicited a visceral reaction from me. Knees buckling and dropping me to the ground, shoulders snapping back and breast forms jutting forward, mouth open, tongue out, ready to suck; that's how Bambi drops for cock. I don't think I'd ever been so turned on in my life.

We'd received dick pics before of course. Bambi's online flirting kept up a steady supply. But this one was different. This one had felt every fold and ridge of my throat. This one had popped my blowjob cherry. It had a hold over us, it knew our secrets, our triggers, our vulnerabilities. It was a carrot to reward and a stick to punish. It was our god. And we worshipped it willingly.

I almost gave in and submitted to another masturbation session then and there. Instead, I fought back the urge and unlocked my phone to reply. For better or worse, this guy was in control now. Bambi had signed us up for a life of sexual slavery and Master M was holding the whip. The thought should terrify me, make me want to run for the hills, but my programming wouldn't let me. In the background, the voice was telling me that everything is ok, that this is perfectly normal, that I should stop worrying and just comply. I didn't fight it. I didn't know how to -- the conditioning had taken that away. I was a helplessly addicted bimbo doll, unable to make decisions or think for myself.

Acting on impulse, I raised my phone to a high angle and snapped a pic. My face was displaying lewd ahegao and my outfit was suitably slutty and restrictive. I quickly tapped out a caption, "Yes Daddy, we're really looking forward to it!" and addended a few heart emojis. Pressing send released a surge of dopamine that flooded my brain. I moaned with pleasure; giving up control felt so good! I had a master, a daddy, someone to care for me, to think and make decisions for me. I was such a lucky girl!

I got ready for bed that night in a haze of horny excitement. It never occurred to me that the lines were evidently blurring between my own personality and Bambi's. It was like I was being absorbed, enveloped, subsumed by her pink fog. She and I shared a body, but we were starting to share a mind too. But I remained blissfully unaware. I drifted to sleep, safely ensconced in a pink chiffon babydoll nightie, the voice murmuring softly in my ears, pulling me deeper and deeper. Deep into an amaranthine abyss from which there would be no escape.

***

The next two days passed slowly for Bambi. Her old-self kept taking over to do boring things like thinking, typing and adding up. Master M texted twice, but both times 'Princess' had dealt with it, not her. She sank into a sullen mood and tried to wait patiently. The conditioning would kick in sooner rather than later and let her bubble to surface once again. In the meantime, she took perverse pleasure in watching her old-self's increasingly frantic search for its boy-clothes. Bambi placed bets with herself to see when exactly it would give up the futile hunt and realise just what she'd done...

***

The desperate searches were less fun for me. I felt like I'd checked everywhere five times already, all her usual hiding spots, even the places I knew she wouldn't be smart enough to think of like behind the air vents. Already ideas of her hiding the clothes around town or sending them on their way to landfill had flashed through my mind, but I dismissed them right away. Bambi wouldn't go that far. It was too much of a betrayal to consider. How wrong I was.

The situation came to a head on Thursday night. My fridge was empty. The store cupboard was in a similar shape, and I barely had any money left -- certainly not enough to get groceries delivered. I was faced with the prospect of going out somewhere fully en-femme. Me, that is, not Bambi. I couldn't rely on her to do a food shop! She'd come back with a cucumber, three new pairs of heels and a dozen guys' phone numbers knowing her. With great reluctance, I started looking through my wardrobe for something vaguely appropriate to wear.

It was a hopeless task. Bambi didn't buy anything that wasn't restrictive and attention-grabbing. The few skirts that went past mid-thigh were all lasciviously tight across the rear, while every top was cut to display at least a hemisphere of breast. What wasn't shiny and slippery was sheer and thin enough to show off every strap, seam and clasp of my lingerie. I must have spent an hour trying on item after item, desperately looking for something that wouldn't make me look like a wanton whore. Of course, every uniform change necessitated some oral exercise, and by the time I thought I'd settled on an outfit my throat was ragged from friction. So it was with a hoarse, husky voice that I answered a sudden internet call from Master M.

"Damn princess, sounds like you've been hitting the smokes, haha! I like it, sounds sexy," I could practically feel his smirk against my ear. "Thanks for sending over your landlord's details by the way. I had a nice long chat with Karim today. Turns out he and I have got a lot in common - that dude knows his bikes! He was super chill about the whole thing, said he wants to 'help you on your journey', whatever that means. I told him one sissy can't serve two daddies, but- "

"You TOLD him about me?!?" I exclaimed.

"Yes, bitch, how else was I gonna get him to let the rent slide for a few more weeks? But like I say, he seemed pretty happy to be honest. I think he kinda likes the idea of having a bimbo whore in his building. Well, if he tries to order you around, I know you'll do as he says, just as long as you remember who your real Daddy is. If he starts getting too big for his boots, let me know right away. I'll make him my bitch if he tries to steal mine." My spine tingled from the ominous tone of his voice.

"A'ight look," he continued, "I've been making some calls. Tomorrow night, you're going out as Bambi again, you understand? You gonna see a friend of mine, a sissy-boi photographer called Niko. He'll take some promo shots, set you up with the right equipment, show you the right poses and positions, that kind of thing. You'll love him -- Niko's even more of a slut than you are! I'll text you a map to his studio, be there seven pm sharp. He'll give you a ride home -- said he wants to check out your collection, make sure you got everything you need.

"Your first shoot's on Saturday morning. I'll come to your place. Be ready early: I'm talking squeaky clean inside and out, makeup done, all dolled up and kneeling by the door before eight thirty. Karim's gonna give me a key. We'll do some warm-up stuff around your apartment, let you get a feel for the job. Then in the afternoon, I've got a venue booked across town and arranged some hung talent to be your co-star. Right now I'm just confirming insurance and permits and- Ah, fuck it, I dunno why I'm telling you about all this shit!" His abrupt change in tone startled me. "You ain't nothing but dumb bimbo, you don't need to know all the stuff I've got cooking for you! Just remember to turn up at Niko's tomorrow night and be ready for me the morning after. You got that? You ain't gonna forget? Good, repeat it back to me then."

He listened while I summarised what he'd said. I knew I wasn't going to forget. The conditioning wouldn't allow it. I had been told to remember, and Bambi does as she's told.

When he was satisfied, he interrupted me. "Alright, that's good. Even a dumb whore like you can't screw this up. But now you've got me concerned princess. You're sounding a little too smart, like you haven't been keeping up with your files. Tell me, how long's it been since you let Bambi out to play?"

I told him, trying to make four days sound like no time at all.

"Hmm, that's what I thought. That's not good for you princess, not good for either of you. You need to learn your place. You don't matter anymore -- Bambi's all that matters. She's the one I made the deal with, not you. You're useful to me because you're smarter than your other half, but let's be real, she's the talent here. The main attraction. I barely gotta use the triggers on her, she's so compliant! She's a perfect fucktoy and you're just a weak-willed sissy. And now she's been waiting patiently all week for you to give up control. We can't have that, can we?"

I didn't respond.

"Answer me, you slut!" he barked.

"No, Master," I stammered.

"Good girl. We're gonna fix that right now. There's a reason I didn't just call your cell number -- much better audio this way. Now move your ass. Go grab a pair of earphones to plug in, then lie down on your bed."

I hurriedly did as I was told, shoving the piles of rejected clothes aside and settling atop the satin sheets. With the earphones in, I could hear Master M's measured breathing clearly, almost as if he were whispering in my ear. As soon as he heard me get comfortable, a binaural tone started to play. An involuntary shiver ran up my spine as I felt the energy leech out of my limbs, leaving them heavy and motionless. I slowed my breathing, expecting to hear The Voice at any moment. Instead, Master M started to speak.

"Alright girly, let's see how this goes. I've been reading up on this Bambi shit you've fucked your brain up with, and I wanna try it out. You're gonna go to sleep for me now Princess. I'll count back from five, and you just follow my instructions, ok? So, get nice and comfortable, make sure your arms are resting by your sides, legs uncrossed, head sinking into that pillow.

"Five. Focussing on my words, listen to them echo around that empty head of yours. Your brain is filled with cotton candy Bambi, but your head still feels so heavy. Every word I say makes your head heavier, makes it sink deeper. Relax your neck and let it fall.

"Four. Focusing on your breathing. Deep and slow, smooth and controlled, barely enough to disturb a feather. Imagine that -- a single feather resting on your lips. Breathe slow and smooth so it doesn't get disturbed. And with every exhale, a thought goes along too. Breathe out mind, breathe in bliss. Breathe out mind, breathe in bliss. Good girl, keep focusing on your breathing, keep focusing on my words.

"Three. Think about your uniform. That tight, restrictive clothing you're all dolled up in. It binds you to this life, doesn't it Bambi? Keeps you aroused, keeps you compliant. Think of how good it feels to be dolled up like a slut, in shiny, slippery materials like satin. You love the feeling of satin against your skin. You want to be cocooned in it, boxed up and locked away. Picture that. Picture a pink padded box lined with cushioning layers of silky satin. Picture climbing inside and closing the lid, hearing a soft click as it locks behind you. Now you're in the dark, breathing slowly, hearing my words.

"Two. Lying in your box, you're at peace. The satin shrouds you like a blanket, stifling any thoughts, any movement. Apart from your chest, rising and falling slightly with each breath, every other part of you is completely still, completely frozen. And with that lack of movement, you start to feel a numbness, spreading up your legs from your toes, and up your arms from your fingers. And with each inch, your limbs feel heavier, harder to move, made of stone. It stops as it reaches your torso: aching clit and quivering pussy untouched, swollen breasts and nipples still acutely sensitive. Muffled and motionless, satin wrapped, breathing softly, listening intently.

"One. Now that your body is safely stored in its protective satin-lined box, you're free to let your mind wander. You remember how to do this: all Bimbo Dolls know how. Just imagine a shiny pink bubble, impossibly light and airy, warm and cosy inside. Let your mind flow into the bubble now Bambi, just breathe out and let it go. Feel that slight bit of resistance, like an elastic band stretching as you enter, and the sudden release as you pop inside. Doesn't that feel better? Watch as the bubble starts to float, up through the lid of the box, leaving it far behind, all that weight, all that baggage, you don't need any of that where you're going. You're floating through clouds now Bambi, beautiful pink clouds, shimmering and light. Totally weightless, totally carefree. Keeping your limbs still, feeling the caress of satin, breathing slowly, focusing on my voice.

"Your bubble comes to rest on a particularly fluffy cloud. It looks so comfortable, like the softest thing you've ever touched. You want to reach out and touch it, but the bubble stops you. So now I want you to take a hairpin, take a deep breath, and pop the bubble... in five (whispered words), four (balmy breathing), three (silky satin), two (lifeless limbs), one (bursting bubble), and zero. Pop now and Bambi Sleep!"

I don't remember much after that.