The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

But I Don’t Really Want This, Chapter 19

Nicole was getting ready to go for dinner with Will. She was checking herself out in the full length mirror in the bedroom, admiring her new dress, herself and her femininity. I look good, she thought, I’m so hot. I don’t care who knows it, I don’t care who knows that I know it.

The dress was tight, not uncomfortably tight, but it hugged the curves of her hips, her waist and her breasts. She was admiring her breasts again. No bra tonight. Her idea, not Will’s. The first time she had done that since the operation. She didn’t plan on doing it often, but tonight she wanted to enjoy being a woman—a hot woman, she added to herself—as much as possible. She turned and admired her profile. So perky! She turned back to face the mirror. Such an idealized shape. A shape that a bra might attempt to create for real breasts.

Just standing there, people might not know she was braless. But of course, there would be some jiggle if she was walking, not as much jiggle as for natural breasts this size, but still jiggle. Jiggle, she thought to herself and laughed silently. When she walked, people would know she was braless. And they might also know if...

She ran her hand down her sides, enjoying the sensation of her body, enjoying the pleasant firmness of her skin beneath the dress, her reward for hours at the gym. She arched her back, making the dress tighter across the chest and... yes, there they are. She held the position while she looked at the outline of her nipples. She released the position and they disappeared back under the surface. She arched her back again. She laughed to herself. She would make sure to let Will see this at dinner, maybe she could affect a yawn?

They don’t point down, she smiled to herself. In fact, with her back arched like that they actually pointed up. Each at the centre of their own perfectly round breast. An artificially achieved effect, but still, despite that, it felt—in its own way—natural. Where she would choose a nipple to be if she could. Completely unnatural, but weirdly right.

I love my body. I don’t feel bad about the surgery. But Christmas was coming and she would be going home soon to see her family and old friends for the first time since last year. They all know about the surgery of course, but it will still be new for them, and they will have questions.

Back when she had still lived there, before moving to the United States a couple of years before, she had always objected vehemently to the idea of plastic surgery. What changed her mind, they will ask. She had her answer ready. Objecting was always her cover. She doth protest too much. Secretly she had always been fascinated by cosmetic surgery, but had been embarrassed by that feeling. So she had always rejected the idea in the strongest terms in casual conversation with her friends.

Then she moved to Vegas, where so many women go under the knife, and she didn’t feel so bad about the idea. And instead of just always thinking of doing it, she decided to do it.

And how did your boyfriend react, they will mischievously ask, did he try to stop you? He has never been anything short of the perfect feminist. Dismayed at the thought that I felt the need to do this, he tried to convince me that I didn’t need it, that he wouldn’t change a thing about me, while at the same time acknowledging that he had zero right to judge me for a decision I was making about my own body, and that he would of course support me with whatever decision I made.

I’ll bet he supports it, they would joke. Well, let’s just say, he’s cum around to the idea. She laughed to herself. The pun wouldn’t work in conversation without emphasis, and it also wouldn’t work in French, and she certainly didn’t use that kind of language when discussing her relationship with her friends and sisters.

All lies of course. She had never been fascinated with the idea before earlier this year, and he had not only told her to get implants, but had picked them for her. Still. She squeezed them through the dress, feeling the heft, and smiled at herself. Tits, she thought. Big tits. Worth it.

Fortunately it would be cold back in France, so she could wear large, toasty, woollen jumpers, and still be appropriately dressed. That won’t draw too much attention to them. Doesn’t hide the lips and butt, but breasts are definitely the most significant change.

The dress was pale yellow. Such a feminine colour. It had a collar, about two inches high all the way around. The collar was attached to the rest of the dress via various thin straps, meaning that the dress revealed her upper back and chest. She tried to pull the dress down to reveal her breasts, but the collar pulled the material back up when she released it. Pity. She went to try again, but stopped herself as she didn’t want to stretch the material or break the straps.

Recently, the clothes in her wardrobe had been trending slightly towards a new aesthetic. When shopping, she found herself going for more feminine choices. Of course, she knew, and stridently believed, as all reasonable people did, that women (and, of course, all people) should wear whatever they were comfortable with, and so, by extension, all clothes were, or could be, feminine. But society had a prejudice about what was feminine dress. And she was not only enjoying feeling feminine in herself, but also in being seen as feminine, so recent clothes purchases were making a nod to that prejudice.

Skirts for work. Dresses for socializing. Though skirts might be modest, loose or billowy, tops were tight, showing of her lean waist and the bulge of her large breasts. She turned sideways and admired her figure from that angle. Yes, fun, fun, fun. Clothes had never been boring for her, but they certainly had an added excitement now.

Hmm, if I wear a push-up bra, I could definitely get some cleavage out of this... No, I want to try braless.

I am the secret bimbo. My man’s secret bimbo. She smiled at herself. The picture of professionalism at work. A career girl, dedicated, diligent, intelligent, capable, ambitious and rising the ladder. And when I go home everything changes. She squirmed. And maybe if we go out to dinner together, and if I am dressed like this, some people—prejudiced people—will suspect? And they will be right. She grinned to herself.

Work Christmas parties would be soon. What kind of dress? One thing was for sure though. Cleavage. She hadn’t yet gone to work wearing anything that revealed even the hint of cleavage. But by now she was more comfortable with cleavage in a casual setting. It was time to try it at work. A work party, that horrible no-man’s land between the professional and personal life, seemed like a natural time to make that debut. Of course, not an excessive amount. Tastefully done. Just a normal amount. Whatever that was. Definitely a bra. Not a push-up.

She fantasized of an unspoken conversation that might occur several times over the course of the Christmas party. ‘You all knew I had them done, well here they are. Gaze upon their glory’. ‘Yes, finally’, in haughty response. ‘There they are’. Of course that conversation would be masked by a more socially conventional conversation. Possibly no more than the briefest of glances would betray its occurrence. She amused herself imagining a particularly aggressive form that it might take. ‘Nicole, it’s so late in the evening,’ glancing quickly down then back up, ‘we were beginning to wonder if we would ever get to see you. You look absolutely stunning.’ Pause. ‘And this is, uh—Will? If I remember correctly from last year, yes?’ Again a quick downward glance. ‘You must be so proud of her!’

Life was good. She had more money than ever before thanks to her promotion. And she was doing well in her new responsibilities. The owner of the company knew her well now, and had congratulated her personally on the work she was doing and on the excellent feedback her clients had given him.

Will’s job had already been well paid, but he was also expecting a promotion soon. If/when he gets it they were thinking about moving. They were already saving a lot of money in this apartment, and if he got a raise, they could still save that amount and have a bit more luxury. Things had never been better.

What would they do tonight, after they got home? The plan was to go to a bar after dinner and then, maybe, a club, but she was just looking forward too much to having sex. She was sure Will would understand. Sex with alcohol was fun, but with too much alcohol,... it never felt like your best work.

She really wanted to use the butt plug for the second time. She had gone to a sex shop after work two days earlier and had purchased two matching ones for beginners, green and yellow. One for her, and, as a surprise, because she read that they also increased male pleasure, one for him. And he had been surprised! But he gave it a go. They had both agreed that their orgasm had been... different. Good, really very good. Better? To early to say. But different was interesting. Would he use his again? She hoped so. She wanted him to have better orgasms.

Her butt. She turned to admire it in the full length mirror...

‘No!!’ she exclaimed.

‘You are just too cute’, said Will.

‘How long were you there?’, she asked, embarrassed.

‘Long enough. You’re enjoying your body?’

Sheepishly at first, then grinning and waggling her eyebrows, ‘Yeah. It’s fun’.

Nodding, smiling, looking her up and down, ‘That’s definitely true’, he said, walking up to her. She turned to face the mirror and he stood behind her, his hands holding her upper arms, as he checked her out.

‘Look at this’. She arched her back.

‘Nice nipples!’ He felt her left breast with his left hand and squeezed, then pinched her nipple. She inhaled sharply through grinning teeth. ‘You are so hot, but we’re going to be late cocksucker.’ He winked at her in the mirror and she pantomimed shock in response. He turned to go, holding her right hand in his, forcing her to follow as she laughed out loud at this term of endearment.

* * *

They arrived back under 3 hours later.

‘Put on some porn’, Nicole called back as she went into the bathroom.

‘Any preference?’

‘Whatever you want’.

Fuck it, why not, he thought. He entered ‘dumb slut with huge fake tits’ into the search bar and selected the first result. He played the first 30 seconds as a preview. Jesus, those are big. He laughed when he realised they were speaking French. Perfect.

He paused it as Nicole came back in with the two butt plugs and some lube. She held out hers and the lube to him.

‘I’ll do yours if you do mine’.

He took them from her with a smile and they made out. Then she got comfortable on the couch, lying on her side with a view of the laptop. She opened her eyes wide and raised her eyebrows when she realised what the still image was depicting. He slowly and gently went to work behind her. She pressed play.

* * *

Will woke up. Nicole wasn’t there. 5 minutes later she still wasn’t there. Maybe she wasn’t in the bathroom like he had assumed.

He went into the sitting room and found her on the middle of the floor, in loose, comfortable workout clothes, doing a plank. Not just any plank, but a quite advanced looking one. Balanced on her left foot and right hand only, her body flat. Presumably it had a name, but he didn’t know what. Clearly it was a lot of work for her, but she was just about managing to maintain good form.

No! she exclaimed loudly, half at having been discovered doing something secret and half laughing. She lost control of the position and sat on her knees, panting.



‘What are you doing?’ he smiled.

‘Nicole wants a bigger butt!’ she responded defiantly, adding just a touch of a sing-song character to her response.

Nice thought Will. 3rd person reference. Cute voice.

‘Are you planning on doing much more?’

‘Less than 10 minutes.’

‘I’ll make coffee’, he said.

He walked past as she got into a standard plank position in preparation for adopting the more advanced plank. He bent slightly and spanked her ass hard, then paused to admire the resulting motion.

‘Hey!’ she yelped.

‘Looks good’

‘Merci’, she exhaled through clenched teeth.

‘Wait, why aren’t you wearing that slutty work out costume that you wear around here sometimes. This is perfect for that’.

‘That’s really just for looking good at home, I don’t actually want to ruin it with sweat and exercise.’

‘No, go put it on. Then just buy some more clothes that match that look. That way you will always have a clean set’.

‘OK’, she said. Two orders. Put on an outfit and then buy a similar outfit. The standard rule was that she could use the context of a conversation to judge when an order should be carried out. Clearly she should change now, but there was no emergency to go shopping. Some time in the next week or two she decided.

He came back into the sitting room 5 minutes later with his coffee and a glass of water for her. Her coffee was keeping warm in the kitchen, he would get it for her when she asked for it. She had changed and had resumed her advanced planks.

He loved that outfit. Sports bra, thong whose straps rode high over the hips, and which disappeared without a trace between her already impressive butt cheeks. Cute, colourful, almost bouncy-looking sneakers. Then the fluffy calf warmers and fluffy sweat bands on her wrists and around her head. That really completed the look. He couldn’t explain it, but those sneakers, calf warmers and sweat bands—actually, her dirty ponytail too—really were the key to this outfit.

He admired the view while he waited for her to finish. It looked like hard work, but she was managing.

She finished and collapsed onto her hands and knees, panting and sighing. He waited until she was steady and offered her the water. She took the first sip and some of it dribbled on her chin and chest. She sloshed the water in her mouth, feeling the wetness in every nook and cranny and then swallowed. She paused for a breath and then took another swig, this time not spilling any and swallowing it directly.

‘There’s a coffee out there for you. I can get it for you when you are ready.’

‘Not yet’ Pant. ‘Thank you’.

* * *

Later they were curled up together on the couch with their coffees, him in his pyjamas, her in her slutty workout gear.

‘Nicole wants a bigger butt?’

‘Nicole wants a bigger butt’, she confirmed grimly. ‘I love my bigger butt, it’s so much fun, and it makes me feel good when I am walking and I can feel it filling my pants or skirt. I’d like to try bigger, I think it will be more fun. I know that you are supposed to direct my ass exercises, but you didn’t say that I couldn’t do more if I wanted to.’

‘Your bigger butt is fun’, he confirmed. He kissed her. ‘Maybe a bigger butt will be even more fun’. She smiled and they kissed again. No maybe about it, he thought. ‘But, why not at the gym?’

‘My workout at the gym is already quite long. I could make it longer, but I would like to try spreading it out a bit. That way, if I, you, we decide that I should do more work there, then I will not be spending all evening there. I was thinking about doing two shorter sessions at home twice a week to compliment the two longer sessions I do at the gym. We have no weights here, so I can do exercises that don’t require them here, like planks.’

‘OK, great, but tell me if you are planning on changing the workout, let me know’.

‘I would have told you at the end of the month when we do our progress report’.

He nodded. ‘Great, so you’ll have more excuses to wear that outfit, and others like it, at home’.

‘But I’ll ruin them. And they will always be sweaty and disgusting and in the wash’.

‘If it’s just a short workout you won’t be too bad, but if you feel self conscious about it, buy a third or fourth set on top of the second I already told you to get. Actually, if you are walking around here dressed like that, I can guarantee that I will be thinking of making you sweaty anyway, so you will need more’.

She smiled and they kissed. ‘Nicole wants a bigger butt!’ she repeated.

Again that sing song voice, again third person. Very, very cute. Could she do better?

‘How about, instead, “Slut Nicole”?’

She stifled a laugh, then, smiling, ‘Slut Nicole wants a bigger butt!’. Now she laughed.

‘How about “Nicole slut”?’

‘Nicole slut wants a bigger butt!’ Still laughing. ‘It rhymes!’

‘Last one, “Bimbo Nicole”.

‘Bimbo Nicole wants a bigger butt!’

‘Hmm, I’ll have to think which one I like better’.

‘Slut rhymes with butt’, Nicole said. ‘Butt slut Nicole’.

‘Nice work slut’, he praised and he stroked the hair on her scalp as best he could, given that she had a ponytail. She arched her neck backwards with a broad grin on her face exaggerating the enjoyment of the petting.

They made out for a bit. She deserves this, he thought after a while. He rolled her onto her back and got onto his knees on the floor. He pulled off the thong, and placed each of her legs onto the coffee table behind him.

He started moistening her outer labia with his tongue.

After a minute she interrupted him, ‘No, wait. Degrade me. It’s always better that way’.

‘I’ll need to think for a minute’, he said. He kept at it, but slowed down.

A minute later he reached for his phone which was behind him on the coffee table. He opened the camera app and took a picture of his view. Moist vagina, clitoris, belly, sports bra and her face. He gave her a cushion. ‘Hold that over your face’. He took another picture.

He sent the second image to her email. He licked a few more times and then got up and went to her laptop. He opened the browser and went to Tumblr.

* * *
[image attached]

This is the ornamental cock moistener’s owner. Here’s her pussy. The more of a bimbo she acts like or the more of a whore she feels like, the harder she cums. So she wants everyone to see this picture. She wants everyone to know what a brain dead slut she is, and she wants everyone to remind her of it. Never let her forget how pathetic she is. Remember, by reminding her of who she is you are feeding her fetish and are giving her a wonderful gift. The gift of cumming hard.

* * *
[image attached]

Thank you everyone for your kind words. Just thinking about all the sexy messages I received makes me go all warm and gooey. Mmmm, getting wet just thinking about it.

I am a bimbo. A secret bimbo, but still a bimbo. I am my owner’s bimbo. I am everything that used to horrify me. And I love it.

I’ve written before about what happens whenever we order sushi. When the delivery comes I have to answer the door and my owner chooses some way in which I must humiliate myself. The first few times I was always terrified. Part of me still is. But now I tingle in anticipation at the thought. The good thoughts far outweigh the bad.

What new orders will he invent for me? He really is very imaginative.

A few weeks ago I posted the above image. It was an outfit I wanted to assemble, to wear around the house. A slutty workout costume.

Six hours ago we ordered sushi. I answered the door wearing that costume. I lost track of how much times I came since. I feel like I am just waking from a dream.

I’m so sore down there now. Too much good sex. I was very sore for the last couple of orgasms already, but I knew the pleasure would still be greater.

Well, it wasn’t quite that costume in the picture that I was wearing when I answered the door. Almost that costume, very close. I wasn’t wearing the sports bra or the thong.