Bimbo Juice: The Addict free porn video

INTRODUCTION Welcome to the world of bimbo juice, a world very much like our own except that it contains a street drug that transforms its users (men or women) into beautiful bimbos for a few hours at a time. Bimbo juice is highly addictive, not least of which because it gives it users amazing orgasms (or "girl-gasms") that are much more intense than any sexual experience a non-user can have. But bimbo juice isn't just dangerous because it is addictive. It's also dangerous because if a bimbo juice user reaches climax on it when they have taken too much of it, they will become a "perma-bimbo," that is, a bimbo forever. And once someone become a perma-bimbo, she loses the ability to reach orgasms on her own. From then on (that is, for the rest of her life), she depends upon her master or mistress (often the person she was having sex with when she overjuiced) to give her permission to climax. Alas, there are more cruel masters and mistresses out there than nice ones, and this often means that most perma-bimbos are in a perpetual state of sexual frustration. To find out more about the bimbo juice, go to the website http://bimbojuiceuniverse.blogspot.com/. Or you can read the section titled "Fact Sheet About the Bimbo Juice Universe" at the end of this story, right after the epilogue. Just be careful, of course, not to peek at the epilogue. And now the story itself. It is not meant to be realistic at all, so please don't expect that. But I hope you find it to be a lot of fun! Enjoy! BIMBO JUICE: THE ADDICT "You're late, Tom," Vanessa said as she opened the door to the penthouse apartment. She was smiling in that ditzy, girly way all juice bimbos smiled: expectant, happy, bubbly. Since she was a perma-bimbo, she had that smile on 24 hours a day. "Traffic," I mumbled as I passed her. "Yuh-huh," she responded in a giggle that said she knew better. She'd been a juice addict just like me once, so she knew all about the doubts and second thoughts that run through your mind every time you decide to juice. Of course, since her overdose a year or so before, she didn't have to worry about such things. Doubts or second thoughts are useless when you no longer have a choice. I still had a choice. And I knew the risks. So why was I here getting my fix? Why was I willing to gamble my entire life for a few thrilling hours? Those were the kind of questions that had made me late. In the course of the day, I had resolved twice not to come at all. But now here I was. Vanessa escorted me through the large foyer of the penthouse and into the main living area, a room meant to impress visitors with its stone floor, limestone columns, oak and leather furniture, and a panoramic view of the city. The view was nearly a hundred floors up, so you could see everything for miles around. Right now, however, my eyes strayed not toward the penthouse view but to the penthouse owner, Victor Gunner, who was sitting leisurely on one of the several couches in the room. Victor was my bimbo juice dealer. But really he was more than a dealer. He was what is often referred to as a "juice daddy," meaning he paid for my bimbo juice habit. Not out of his own good heart, of course. But for a price. Juice daddies come in a variety of shapes and sizes, personalities and philosophies, but what they all have in common is their money. Lots of it. As an executive board member of a major shipping company, Victor was certainly no exception. He had more money than he knew what to do with, and he'd enjoyed spending it on bimbo juice junkies like me. He'd been sponsoring my expensive habit for about a year, just as I knew he had once sponsored Vanessa's juice habit before she overjuiced and became a bimbo for good. We were just toys to him, a hobby he liked doing on the side to blow off steam. "Tom is here, Mr. Gunner," Vanessa tittered happily as though she had just performed some amazing trick by showing me in. I glanced at her and briefly. She wore a strapless maid's outfit, complete with two long black stockings that reached up to the ruffles of her skirt. She wore no panties and, just so you wouldn't overlook this, she made a point of arching her back and sticking out her behind, even as she walked. Like all perma-bimbos, she liked any attention she could get, especially sexual attention. Right now Vanessa was playing absentmindedly with a thick strand of her dark red hair as she waited anxiously for a response from Victor. But if Vanessa was hoping to get some affirmation from Victor, she was doomed to be disappointed. He didn't even acknowledge her. "I almost thought you weren't going to make it, Tom," he told me as I approached. "But then I remembered what a pathetic junkie you are." He laughed. I clenched my teeth. I knew, of course, that Victor was intentionally trying to goad me, either out of retaliation for making him wait or just for the love of cruelty. Probably both. But if I responded with anger, I feared that he would only delay things or, worse, refuse to give me my juice fix. And, more than anything, I needed my fix. "I'm sorry," I said, as politely as I could manage, though it was clear I resented being forced to say so. It was then that I looked over at the couch opposite Victor where another man, someone I never met, was sitting. There was a short silence. "Ah, yes. Let me introduce you to my guest," Victor said. "Tom, this is Kyle Watts. He's my lawyer, and he's done such an excellent job for me during my divorce proceedings that I thought I would give him some amusement tonight. Kyle, this is Tom." "Very nice," Kyle said, looking at me closely as though appraising my value. His eyes beamed with a silent glee, the meaning of which I understood all too well. This wasn't the first time Victor had brought a friend for "some amusement." My fears were confirmed by the fact that, like Victor, Kyle didn't bother to get off the couch or shake my hand. That would have been treating me like an equal. Like another man. "Let's get started, then," Victor announced, noticeably smug. He liked showing off in front of others, and I was one of his treasured prizes. "Vanessa, be a good little slut and get the juice for Tom while he undresses." With clear delight, Vanessa skipped off to a side room, wiggling her partially exposed ass in an exaggerated manner the entire way. For a moment I felt sorry for her. Could she really be happy behind all of that giggling and prancing? It didn't seem possible. Vanessa had overdosed, or "overjuiced," in this very same room last January, when Victor had been her juice daddy. I knew this because Victor liked telling me the story about her: how she had once been just like me, a loser and an addict with no money and no resources. She had needed a real man, Victor said, to take control of her life. Vanessa's overdose happened not long before I had started coming myself to Victor to get my fixes, which was not a coincidence. Once she had become his full-time bimbo, he wanted to move onto his next victim. Overjuicing was always the greatest danger of bimbo juice. If a junkie took too much, then she was at tremendous risk. All that needed to happen after that was for her to cum. After that first orgasm, her fate was sealed. She would not only become forever transformed into a perma- bimbo, but, like Vanessa, she would be enslaved to a creep like Victor for the rest of her life. The worst thing of all perhaps was that perma-bimbos didn't even get the thing they had originally started juicing for: girl-gasms. They could cum only when their masters permitted them to. And of course bimbo masters usually relished withholding such pleasure. The legal system was no help either because the laws insisted that perma-bimbos had the "choice" of doing whatever they wanted. Accordingly, they were not being forced to stay with their masters, at least technically. Many conscientious people had tried to change the laws and protect perma-bimbos, but guys like Victor (and as I soon found out, Kyle) had counteracted these initiatives with their money and their lobbyists. As result, overjuiced bimbos like Vanessa had no protection. I pushed Vanessa's problems from my mind. I had my own troubles to worry about, and, as I began to remove my shirt, I once again considered backing out altogether. But only for a moment. I knew that even if I managed to summon up the willpower to leave, I would come crawling back within days, perhaps hours. And my resistance would only give Victor more power to humiliate and manipulate me. No, I counseled myself, it was best just to go through with it now. I was past the point of no return tonight. "Oh, my," Kyle laughed when I pulled off the last article of clothing, my boxers. "You really are ready for this, aren't you, Tom?" Victor laughed with him. There was no hiding my erection. It stood straight out, the head tinged with purple as though it was blushing. You couldn't have guessed that I had been jerking off all that day, trying to exhaust or at least corral my sex drive so that I would have the resolve to stay away from Victor's penthouse. But just the thought of what Vanessa was about to bring me was turning me on uncontrollably. And I didn't have to wait long. "I've got it, Mr. Gunner," Vanessa said as she reentered the room. "Give it to Tom," Victor told her calmly, almost reverently, like he it was a sacred rite to him. His eyes never left me. He might have been studying a painting or a sculpture in a museum. Glancing only for a moment at the two men still sitting on their couches, I took the small syringe filled with pink liquid that Vanessa had brought me, making sure it was the right dosage. Bimbo juice could be taken orally or by needle. Most juice junkies preferred to shoot it up because the effect was faster and more powerful that way, though in truth it was pretty fast and powerful regardless. As I put the end of the needle up to the skin of my thigh (there was no need to find a vein), I paused. But this time my hesitation did not come from any second thoughts. No, just the opposite. I wanted to savor the moment, to become fully alive to what was happening to me. I had been doing this every time lately. Who knew if I would get to do it again? Perhaps this would be the last time. Perhaps this would be the night I finally overjuiced. I only had to look at Vanessa to be reminded of that possibility. I watched by body very closely as I pushed down the plunger of the syringe and felt the familiar sensation of warmth spread over my thigh and up my belly and chest, then outward to my head and arms. Bimbo juice transformation happens fast, but not so fast that you can't watch it. At first, the only thing I could see was that the hair on my legs and chest was retreating into my skin, making it smooth. Looking closer, though, I observed my legs and feet shrinking. This was almost imperceptible at the beginning, but soon became unmistakable. Then, only a few seconds later, many things started happening at once. A shot of dizziness overcame my head and, as usual at this point, it felt like I might lose consciousness, but after I forced myself to blink hard, the world cleared again and I could observe my body, as though from a distance, reforming in a dramatic way. My chest stretched outwards, expanding into two giant tits that, when they were done, I knew would be the size of volleyballs, just as they always were. Then another wave of warmth hit me, twice as pleasurable as before, and I blinked hard again, opening my eyes to see rich golden hair spilling down onto my new breasts. All the while that this was happening, I could feel my face changing into delicate, feminine features, my arms and legs shrink, and my hips widen. But I hardly noticed these changes. The biggest of them all was still coming. Clumsily pushing aside my cumbersome breasts, I stared straight down to my crotch. My cock, or what was left of it at that moment, was steadily withdrawing, erection and all, into itself, shrinking down to three inches, two inches... one inch... then nothing. Along with my testicles, it seemed to be sucked into my body and then, even faster, inverted into a slit. How many times had I done this? Twenty? Thirty? More? I had lost count. But it never ceased to amaze me. Or excite me. "Ohhhhhhhh gawd!" I moaned in a high, girly voice as my new thin fingers caressed my new hairless pussy. In the back of my mind, I was still conscious of everyone else in the room. I knew that they were watching me closely. But for the moment I didn't care. They might as well have been on another planet. "Ohhhhhhhhhh!" I cried out again, rubbing harder now. Was Victor actually going to let me cum immediately tonight? Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't. I focused on finishing before he decided to stop me. "Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma- gawd!" My struggle with bimbo juice addiction will sound familiar to most bimbo juice junkies. It started with curiosity. Like just about everyone else, I had heard of "juicing" through the traditional media: newscasts or articles investigating such a "scary drug." They called bimbo juice a dangerous threat to individuals and society in general, but that only made it seem that much more appealing. I mean, was bimbo juice really "more addictive than heroin," I wondered, or was that just typical media sensationalism? And if it really was more addictive than heroin, then why? Did it really feel that good? The answer, I found out, is yes. Emphatically so. It really is that good. It really is that addictive. Orgasms on bimbo juice, often called "girl-gasms," are the most powerful kind imaginable. They make even my greatest orgasms as a man seem about as satisfying as a sneeze. Each one pulsates outward from your twat to your further extremities like shocks of high voltage. Your heart races like a jackrabbit's. Your pussy trembles seismically. "Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Oh-ma-gawd! Mmmmm...ohhhhhh!" I moaned, feeling my face contort nearly into a muscle spasm, as I reached climax. It hadn't taken long to get there. The first one rarely did, especially if you had the chance to touch yourself, and I had wasted no time. In fact, I was already hurrying to see if I could get a second one off. But, as I knew he would, Victor stopped me. "Enough," he demanded. "No more mastrabation unless I say so." In a few seconds, the room returned fully to my consciousness, and I pulled my dripping wet fingers away from my still shuddering cunt. When I finally I looked around at Victor, Kyle, and Vanessa, it was as if I was seeing them all for the first time. I suddenly breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't just the satisfaction of the climax (though that certainly had something to do with it). It was the knowledge that I hadn't overdosed, or "overjuiced." If I had taken too much bimbo juice, my first orgasm would have rendered me a perma-bimbo, and I realized now with gratitude that it hadn't happened. I had never seen someone overjuice personally, but from all accounts it was clear the moment it happened. Perma-bimbos universally report that they knew it happened the very second they reached orgasm. And it's always followed by an incredible bout of horniness and sexual frustration, like climbing a mountain you can never get to the top of. That definitely didn't happen to me. For a brief moment, at least, I was on top of that mountain. I felt satisfied and relaxed. I had gotten my fix. Now came the price for it. "Kneel," Victor commanded and, almost without thinking, I dropped to my knees on the oriental rug beneath me. Out of the side of my vision, I could see Vanessa obeying Victor's order as well, kneeling and looking up at Victor with lust glowing from her expression. "Amazing," Kyle exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder. "How much time do you think we have with her... or is it him?" Victor smirked as he walked over to me, gazing down into my face triumphantly. "We have at least six hours," he said, cupping my chin with his hand. His touch sent shivers down my chest. "And I would say she is definitely a she. It just seems natural." He stared even more intently down at me. "Doesn't that seem right to you, Trisha? Aren't you really a slutty tart? Isn't that your true nature?" "Yes, Mr. Gunner," I moaned in my high pitched voice. "I LOVE being your slutty bimbo. There's nothing I want more." While I said this, I became very conscious of my hands, which were placed just above my kneeling knees, inches away from my warm, desperate pussy. The afterglow of the first orgasm was already passing, and all I could think about now was sliding them back up and sending myself into another girl- gasm fit. But I didn't dare. Not unless Victor told me I could. It's difficult to explain the conflicting feelings running through your head while you are on bimbo juice. Despite what it might look like from the outside, you still have a remaining sense of your identity as a man, and you even have your own free will. That was always my experience, at least, and I've heard other bimbo juice junkies confirm it. You can still choose to act (or not act) however you want, because it's not your willpower that changes. It's your desires. That is, it's not that you are forced to submit yourself to others. It's that you WANT to submit to them, especially to a dominating sexual partner. It feels good, indescribably good, to follow their every command or to humiliate yourself to them. Kneeling before Victor, a man whom I hated with all of my heart, made my wet slit even wetter. It made my whole body tingle with eagerness. Such contradictions became evident to me the very first time I consented to meet with Victor a year before. Up until then, my bimbo juice habit had been very private. I would buy the stuff from my then-dealer, Quint, and then rent a small motel room (I didn't want to risk my roommate or girlfriend coming home) to get juiced up in while watching lesbian pornos. I never let a man, or anyone for that matter, touch me while I was juiced. I knew the risks of going down that road. Eventually, though, I found myself desperate. I had no cash, my girlfriend had left me (I had been stealing money from her), and I was having these ferocious cravings for more bimbo juice and the girl-gasms it gave me. Then Quint told me about Victor, though he warned me not to see him unless I was "really serious" about it. Since this was about as earnest as Quint had ever been with me about anything, I probably should have been more careful. But I thought I knew what I was getting into. After all, I had heard the stories, and I knew all about juice daddies and the downward spiral that can take place when bimbo juice addicts deal with them. I told myself I could handle it. If I could just endure a little fondling and sex from Victor, I could still get what I wanted from him and come out undamaged. Victor, however, didn't just want fondling and sex. He wanted everything. He wanted me body and soul, and I only realized that when it was too late. Within the first ten minutes of that first night, he made me cum twice, without even touching my pussy. All he had to do was spank me. As soon as my transformation had been complete, Victor hadn't allowed me to pleasure myself. Instead, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me over his lap. I nearly burst into tears, I was so confused. By the ninth or tenth open-handed slap on my ass, I really DID burst into tears. Not just because of the pain, which was intense enough, but because of the experience of being manhandled that way--my round ass pushed helplessly in the air, my massive tits tumbling uncomfortably beneath me, my squeaky voice crying out in fear and pleasure. It pushed me into a mind-numbing climax. And with that climax came a growing realization: I would never go back to juicing by myself again. The girl-gasms I got while secretly diddling my twat in some seedy motel room would never compare to the ones that Victor could give me. The feelings of submission and humiliation he gave me were more powerful to my libido than sex itself was. Perhaps Victor was thinking about that first night too as looked down on me now because he suddenly said, "Trisha likes punishment. She needs it. Don't you?" "Oh yes, Mr. Gunner. Yes I do!" Again, I resisted the temptation to play with my soaking wet cunt. I was pleading with him in the dumbest blonde voice I could summon up, which wasn't difficult. It gave me an electric thrill to just hear myself talk that way. You see, you don't lose intelligence when you juice. That's a complete myth. People look at a juiced bimbo and hear her talk like she has the IQ of a doorknob and conclude the drug has given her some kind of brain damage or something. That's just not true, though. I never lost one memory or one mental skill while juiced up. If doing calculus would have given me fierce girl-gasms, I would have gladly spent my juiced up hours working out formulas with a pencil and paper. But working out calculus problems didn't do that. Acting like a brainless bimbo did. "What can I do to please you, Mr. Gunner?" I begged, batting my eyelashes in the silliest, sluttiest way I could. "I'll do ANYTHING you say. I promise!" The irony that I had been so repulsed by Victor only a few minutes before was not lost on me, even at that moment. Victor, who might have been thinking about this too, smiled at my acquiescence and pushed the back of my head so that my face mashed against his crotch. For a few seconds, he let me feel his hard cock against my cheek and mouth, and I felt my throat purr with anticipation. "It's not just me you're going to please tonight, Trisha," he said, letting my head spring back away from him. "It's Kyle, here, too. You see, as I think I mentioned earlier, Kyle is my lawyer, and he has just struck a deal in my divorce proceedings that is very, very favorable to me. You and Vanessa here are going to give him a little treat for all of the great service he has done for me." "Mmm, that's sounds wonderful," I peeped, allowing myself (without permission) to glance over at Kyle still sitting in on the couch. As I did so, I got a glimpse of my bimbo body in one of the mirrors placed strategically in the room. Yes, it was the same big-titted blonde I always was when I juiced. I was quite familiar with "Trisha" by now, who, with all modesty aside, was quite stunning, even among juice bimbos who are all stunning. My features were slightly Nordic, though delicately so. Without the gigantic boobs, I might have been a movie star; with the boobs, I looked like a movie star of a different sort. "Why don't you start off by welcoming Kyle and making him feel relaxed," Victor said. I needed no further prompting. Instead of getting to my feet, which Victor hadn't permitted me to do, I crawled over to the stranger sitting in the couch. He had on a suit, though his jacket was off and he had already loosened his maroon tie from his neck by a few inches. He looked at me crawl toward him like a hungry man would look at a platter of approaching food. "So," I said as I reached his legs and observed his tented pants, "you're a bigshot lawyer, Mr. Watts? That's so, so sexy. It makes me really horny to be so close to man like that." "And you're a bimbo juice junkie," he said, with a touch a malice. "That's sexy, too. How long have you been juicing, sweetie?" "Over two years now," I answered honestly, stroking the inside of his thighs through his slacks and already imagining them off of him. How big would he be? My mouth salivated at the thought. "And did you always know you were supposed to be someone's bitch, Trisha?" he asked. "Or did you have to learn it?" It became clear to me then that Kyle, like Victor, wasn't just interested in fucking a pretty girl. No. Like Victor, he loved the idea of his girls being former men. It turned him on to dominate a juice bimbo like me, making me feel small and weak while they felt big and strong. Because of the bimbo juice, though, I didn't mind at all. I was happy to play along. "Mr. Gunner taught me how to be a good girl," I said, now in full dumb- blonde mode. "But I've got so much more to learn. And I'm so silly and stupid. I have such a hard time thinking. Maybe you could teach me some things, though, Mr. Watts. I mean, a big, super brainy guy like you who knows so much about the world. You could give me a real good lesson or two. You're such a real man! Not like me." I felt his pants tent up even further at this, which I took to be an invitation to start unzipping his fly. He didn't protest. "I love the look of those pouty lips of yours, Trisha," he said. "I bet you're a nice cocksucker." A pang of pleasure shot through my pussy when he said this, and I could feel my breathing start to quicken. I pulled down his pants and boxers as fast as I could and the next moment his cock sprung straight at my face like a jack-in-the-box. I was not disappointed at what I saw. Like Victor, Kyle had been blessed with a big, juicy dick. And, like Victor, he didn't mind pointing it out to me. "You like what you see, sweetie?" he asked. "Bigger than yours, isn't it?" "Oh, yes!" I giggled with delight, most of which was genuine. There was no doubt that the guy was a macho, self-centered jerk. He was probably a sleazy lawyer, too, if Victor had hired him. But debasing myself to him felt exquisite. And, besides, his cock felt warm and fat in my tiny hand. So instead of telling him what I really thought of him, I pulled my tits up to his impressive dick and started rubbing them gently over it. As big as his gorgeous monster was, however, it became almost completely enveloped in my mountainous chest, peeking its tip just out under my chin, which, with a little dexterity, I managed to get my lips around. Then, sliding my tongue down the shaft several times to wet it, I began to pump it with my breasts, at first softly, but gradually with more and more momentum. In only a minute or two, I furiously rubbing away at it. "Oh, Mr. Watts, this feel SOOOO good!" I cooed. "I'm so horny for you, Mr. Watts!" And it did. A juice bimbo doesn't have get fucked in her cunt to have a good time, and just having that gorgeous meatpole hugging against my chest while I licked its tip made me hot. Intensifying matters even more was watching Vanessa, still on her knees, giving head to Victor as he watched Kyle and me. Witnessing her being helplessly used and knowing the same thing was happening to me made me extraordinarily horny. Things didn't take very long from there. "OHHHHHH!" I cried with surprise as Kyle's thick rope of seed jettisoned up to my chin and splashed all over my tits and face. And though he hadn't touched my pussy, the feeling of that hot, sticky goo all over me made me cum anyway. "OHHHH, Mr. Watts! OHHHhhhhhhhhh! Thank you! Thank you so much, sir! That feels fantastic! That feels...." But I couldn't finish my sentence because Kyle was shoving my face down on his cock now, cleaning his hard tool with my mouth like he might use a soft, wet towel. "You were made for this, Trisha," he said, catching his breath. "Mmmmnnnn-uuuuuuu," I tried to thank him. "This is your life calling." I'm not sure what it was, but something about these words felt especially ominous to me. Even in my orgasmic haze, I began to reflect on them a little. Of course, Victor had said the same or similar things to me many times before, but I couldn't help but detect something calculated in Kyle's manner and tone. Looking over, I noticed now that Victor and Vanessa had also finished, and, like me, Vanessa was cleaning her man up with her mouth. When he was satisfied with this, he slapped her playfully on the face with his cock and pushed her back on her forehead his his palm. "You girls go clean up now and bring back our drinks," he said. "We're only getting started. Oh, and don't forget to put on those outfits I bought. They're still in the kitchen, right Vanessa?" "Yes, Mr. Gunner," Vanessa answered, nodding her head emphatically to show she understood. Standing up now, I sighed and followed Vanessa into the kitchen. The last orgasm had taken a little bit of the edge off of my libido for the moment, though with my cum-covered chin and boobs, I was already feeling the next wave of lust coming on. "May I lick your chest off, please," Vanessa asked me when we passed through the double doors into the kitchen. "That jizz looks so yummy on your tits, and I would hate for it to go to waste like that." "Oh, god, yes! I would love that, Vanessa," I heard myself answer in my girly voice. Even outside of the presence of the men, it still felt good to play the part of the slutty bimbo. "Do you think Mr. Gunner would mind?" "Oh, not at all," she reassured me, "not as long as we don't cum." And then she immediately began lapping up Kyle's cooling semen from me. It was then that I remembered that out of the four of us, Vanessa was the only one who hadn't climaxed. As a perma-bimbo, she couldn't reach orgasm at all without the explicit permission of her sexual partner, and Victor had certainly not let her cum this time, not just for one ordinary blowjob. Even as she licked me now, she squirmed in sexual discomfort, rubbing her legs together and passing her hands all over her body. It only seemed to make her hornier, but she kept at it. "Vanessa?" I said as she hummed to herself in pleasure, not missing a drop. It felt good, and I enjoyed watching her do it. But I resisted the urge to return the favor and lick Victor's jizz from her face. I wanted to ask her something. "What is it like to be a perma-bimbo?" "Oh, it's wonderful!" she said quickly, as if coming up for air, and then began running her tongue between my breasts to catch the semen that had spilled there. "It's really, really... wonderful!" "Do you actually think so?" I asked. "Don't you miss being a man? Don't you miss being able to cum when you want?" This brought her up short for a second, and she stepped back to examine me as if I had said something repellent or absurd. "Mr. Gunner knows what's best for me now," she answered. "He knows what to do with me and what not to do. I wasn't man enough to make those kinds of decisions. So's he's in charge now, as he should be." Her answer sounded preprogrammed, like she was saying only what she was supposed to say. But it confirmed something for me. Underneath all of the giggles and wiggles, Vanessa was miserable. The one saving grace in my mind about overjuicing might have been that you really did become a dumb slut who didn't know any better. But something in her answer (and her eyes) revealed that her former personality was still very much inside of her somewhere. And though no one could hear him, he was screaming. A few minutes later, Vanessa and I emerged from the kitchen to serve Victor and Kyle their martinis. With the help of Vanessa, I had put on some makeup, which I hardly needed to do, but it felt sexy anyway. We had also put on our new outfits: bunny nighties, complete with bunny ears for our heads and bunny tails for the tops of our asses. "Very nice," Victor said as he looked us up and down and took our drinks from the trays we had brought them out on. Kyle also took a drink. For the next fifteen minutes or so, the two men continued to talk on opposite couches, ignoring us as we stood to the side and awaited our next orders. They talked about baseball and hockey (both of which they liked). Then they talked about women (who they found silly but entertaining). Then they talked about the latest effort at making a law to protect perma-bimbos (which they had helped to quash and derail through large donations). Finally, they talked about Victor's impending divorce. I couldn't follow all of this last conversation because there so many unexplained details about it, and I certainly was not allowed to ask any questions, but they both sounded quite happy with the settlement they had reached with Victor's wife. "When we sign the papers next week," Kyle told him, "we should have an even bigger celebration. You deserve it, Vic." "Thanks. So do you," Victor responded. "If it wasn't for you, Kyle, that bitch would have gotten half. Or worse!" "Well, it helps that her lawyer is nearly incompetent," Kyle laughed. "But that's what you get when you let women become attorneys. They rarely have the nerve needed for the job. And your wife's lady lawyer is the worst. Chelsea fucking Madison. What a fucking joke." They both chuckled at this and sipped their martinis. Though I had never heard of her lawyer, I had once seen Victor's wife, Amanda, a few months before. She had been a quiet, pretty woman who was coming out of the penthouse just as I was coming in, and even though I was in male form at the time, she had looked at me with great suspicion. She must have known something was up. At the time, I noticed how defeated she looked. I could only imagine what it was like to be married to someone like Victor. Only when they were done with their drinks did the two men seem to notice Vanessa and me again. "Well, girls," Victor smiled, putting his empty glass down. "I think we're ready for the next round. Now that we have introduced ourselves and gotten our first orgasms out of the way--well, not you, Vanessa--we can perhaps really dig in and enjoy a nice, long fuck." "Thank you, Mr. Gunner!" Vanessa and I said in unison. "I love those costumes," Kyle said, appraising our bunny nighties. "You look so ridiculous in those ears and bunny tails. They suit you perfectly." "Thank you, Mr. Watts!" we said, again in unison. "They're just missing one thing, though," Victor added. "These." Reaching over to the coffee table next to him, he grabbed two pair of handcuffs, each padded with pink satin fabric. "Put those on," he told me, tossing a pair to me. "Behind your back." I did as I was ordered, though not without some hesitation. Although I had been "punished" many times in my visits to Victor's penthouse, enduring spankings and made to crawl around begging for his cock, I had never been physically restrained before. Doing so now scared me, especially after catching something strange in Kyle's tone earlier. As a juiced up bimbo, I was extremely vulnerable already. This would make me more so. At the same time, I had to admit that it gave me an intoxicating rush to put the cuffs on. When I heard them click around my wrists and knew that I was completely at Victor and Kyle's mercy, my body felt charged with an electric current. And it seemed to arouse Vanessa in the same way when she put her cuffs on because she was squirming her legs together more than ever. As casually as if he were taking something from a shelf, Victor stood up, grabbed me by the roots of my hair (bunny ears and all) and pulled me over to the nearest leather couch. Without ceremony or warning, he bent me over the arm of the couch, somehow unfastened his pants with his free hand, and stuffed his cock inside my slippery cunt, pulling aside the thin strip of nightie that ran through my legs to do so. "Uhhhhh! Oh, thank you, Mr. Gunner," I managed to say, though I hardly had the breath to get the words out. Without the use of my hands for support, I could only rely on Victor's tight grip in my hair to keep me from falling over. It was a terrible, suffocating position. My stomach was pushed up against the arm of the chair and, to make things worse, my body was repeatedly compressed by Victor's pounding from behind. "My sweet little cum bunny," he said as he rammed into me again and again. He didn't even sound out of breath, and I realized he might go at me like this for a long time if he wanted to. "This is what you are meant for, Trisha. Isn't this what you want?" he asked, spanking me hard on my ass, which even in the bunny nightie was mostly exposed. "Yes, Mr. Gunner! Yes please!" Despite (or because of) my discomfort, I was becoming increasingly excited. I could feel my nipples brushing against the soft leather of the couch, stimulating me even more. Between that, his cock, and the spanking, I was in a heavenly confusion of pain and pleasure. "And wouldn't you like to do this everyday?" he asked, spanking my ass even harder now. "Oh, Mr. Gunner!" I cried out, though I could hardly get a syllable out before it was interrupted by his relentless thrusting. "Yes! Please! I love... it! I'm your... horny... little.. tramp! YES! YES! Everyday!" "We can make that happen, you know, Trisha," he said, and now I could hear his breathing starting to quicken. He too was getting excited. "It would be very easy to keep you a slut like this all of the time." I knew immediately what he meant, of course, but it took me a moment to admit it to myself. He wanted me to become a perma-bimbo, like Vanessa. He wanted me to overjuice. And, moreover, to do it intentionally! How could he even ask me that? It would easily be the dumbest thing I could possibly do! So why was the thought of it only turning me on? I didn't answer, but Victor read me like a dirty magazine. "I know that it makes you horny to think about becoming a slut forever, Trisha. And why wouldn't it? You'd be able to quit that worthless job of yours in sales and work for a man, your man--your master--all day. When you weren't sucking his dick" (here he gave a sharp thrust into me) "you would be making him his meals" (another sharp thrust) "or or washing his dishes" (thrust) "or entertaining his friends" (big thrust). "No!" I managed to cry out. "No, please, Mr. Gunner! I just can't.... OHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh!" Listening to him talk, I had gotten completely lost in fantasies of doing dishes and making lunches and giving blowjobs at parties, and I hardly felt the orgasm coming. But when it hit, it nearly knocked me out. "I c-can't!" I repeated. "Oh, I think you can," Victor assured me. "Why, just look at Vanessa over there," he said, and then, not even pretending to give me a choice, twisted my head (which was still in his hand) so that I could see Vanessa getting her brains fucked out by Kyle. Kyle had attatched her handcuffs above her head to a metal ring on one of the limestone columns that rose from the floor to the ceiling. She looked to be in a slightly more comfortable position than I was since she was vertical. Her legs were wrapped around Kyle who stood and speared her so hard with his cock that only the stone pillar to her back prevented her from crashing to the floor. "Doesn't she look happy? Of course, some people claim that perma-bimbos AREN'T happy. But you and I know better. That's why I've worked so hard to prevent those crazy bimbo laws from passing. Just look at her!" "Oooo!" I heard Vanessa crying in alarm and, yes, apparent happiness. "Ohhh! Mr. Watts!" she cried. "Gawwwd! You're so big! Oh, please let me cum this time! Oh! So big! So big! Fuck! So big! Fuck! Fuck! Oh please let me cum! Please! Please! Oh! Oh!" Before I could respond, and before the previous one had even subsided completely, another orgasm hit me. The image of myself being used like that... being stuck FOREVER like that was so awful. It was so... hot! "Ohhhhhhhhh! Fuuuuuuck! YESSSS! Please do it! Please do it, Mr. Gunner! I want it so badly! Make me your whore for good! PLEASE!" I cried out. As my reward, I felt Victor pull out of me and spray his creamy load all over my back, which only sent my climax further along in its intensity. When I regained my senses a few second later, I found that Victor was pulling me off of the couch and bringing me over to another stone pillar in the room and fastening me, like Vanessa, to a metal loop above my head. "We didn't really need your permission, of course," he told me. "But it was sure fun watching you give it." I thought Victor was going to fuck me like Kyle was fucking Vanessa, but to my surprise, he stepped back. Instead, Kyle pulled away from Vanessa and walked over to me. "Thanks for that last fuck," Victor told him. "She's all yours now. Utterly and completely." Only then did I begin to realize what was happening. Victor wasn't intending to be my master, as I had thought. Kyle was. And fucking me while I became a perma-bimbo would imprint me with the desire to serve him forever. This was confirmed by what Kyle was holding in his hand now: a new syringe filled with pink liquid. "That's triple your regular dose," Victor told me as Kyle pricked the needle into my arm and pushed down the plunger. "A double dose would probably do it, but we'd like to make sure. I had thought by now you'd have already overjuiced with the dosages you've been taking, so perhaps you have a stronger resistance to it than normal. It's best just to play it safe." I could barely follow Victor's words. The familiar warmth of bimbo juice entering my body began to overtake me and, before I knew it, I was swimming again toward sexaul ecstasy. Kyle studied me a moment, then, as he had done with Vanessa, he picked me up and placed his cock at the edge of my pussy. Panting hard, I willingly put my legs around his waist and waited. "Enjoy this last orgasm, Trisha," he sniggered, pinching my nipple and making me wince. "Once you're my perma-bimbo, it might be a long time before I grant you another one." I closed my eyes in both terror and lust. Somehow this was the most exciting and sickening moment of my life at the same time. I had grown to accept the contradictions of being a bimbo juice addict, but this experience outstripped them all. Did I really want to be a sex slave to a sleazy lawyer for the of my life? As I felt him enter me, I decided the only thing to do was to relish the moment. Once he would make me cum, I would be a perma-bimbo forever and, as twisted as his reasoning was, Kyle was right. I should at least enjoy it. But just as this thought occurred to me, something very strange happened, something surreal even among all the surreal things that had happened that night. I heard Kyle give a weird, muffled grunt. And then, my eyes still closed, I felt his cock very slowly pull itself out of me. Only it didn't feel like it was pulling out because Kyle's hips were still thrust all the way forward. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't have been more surprised at what I saw. It was Kyle--or, at least, someone who looked like him. His eyes were wide and alarmed, his mouth in an O shape. Except his mouth looked funny now. Puffy. In fact, it looked like a girl's mouth. Then I noticed long strands of black hair sprouting out of his scalp and flowing over shoulders and onto... breasts! The next moment he dropped me, leaving me dangling from the metal ring above until I could get my feet underneath me. Even in the midst of my sexual frenzy, I realized immediately that someone had given him bimbo juice--a large dose judging from how fast the transformation was happening. My first thought was that it must be Victor. Victor was definitely the kind of guy who would doublecross a friend. But when I looked for Victor, I got a second shock. Where Victor had been was the figure of a person shrinking and reforming, just as Kyle was shrinking and reforming. For just a second, I could see Victor's face, but then, like Kyle's, it too disappeared into an entirely different (and feminine) one. Victor was sprouting blonde hair like mine, and he even somewhat resembled me, though his new tits were smaller. When I realized that they had both been juiced, my second thought was that Vanessa must have somehow gotten to them. But when I looked over at her, she was still cuffed to the other column and looking just as bewildered at the scene as I felt. So I scanned the room again. And, this time, I found my answer. There she was standing only a few feet away from Victor: Amanda Gunner, Victor's estranged wife, who had managed to sneak into the penthouse amongst all of the commotion of sex and screaming. She looked just as pretty as I remembered, though she now had a much different aura about her. She no longer looked angry and suspicious, but confident and even proud. Standing next to her was a tall, elegant looking woman with straight brown hair pulled back into a shiny bun. Both women held long, dripping syringes, each with the pink transparent residue of bimbo juice inside of them. "Did you do it in time, Amanda?" the tall woman asked. "Did you juice that fucker before he made her cum?" "I think so," Victor's wife said. Then, turning her eyes away from her transformed and stunned husband for a moment, she looked at me. "Did you cum? Did they finish you off?" "No... but please let me!" I cried desperately. "Just let me finish! Oh, god, I'm so close. I just need a little more to get there! Please!" "Shut up!" the tall woman commanded me. With a small whimper, I obeyed, hunching over dejectedly as I dangled from my handcuffs. "Don't be so hard on her... on him," Amanda Gunner told the woman. "She can't help it." "Oh, I doubt she's completely innocent," the tall woman responded. "Though it would still be a shame if we'd let Victor transform her permanently." Everyone's eyes now moved back to Victor. And Kyle. Only they weren't Victor and Kyle anymore. Or at least they weren't the two men who just a half an hour before had been making jokes about women while sipping their martinis. The bimbo who was once Victor was still wearing Victor's gold chain necklace, though nothing else. The bimbo that was once Kyle had Kyle's wristwatch drooping precariously from her now-skinny arm. A second later, the watch dropped to the floor with a quiet thud. Both of the former men looked wildly confused. And very, very frightened. "Good evening, boys," the tall woman said to them sarcastically. "Though I suppose that's the last time you'll be called that." "Amanda?" bimbo-Victor asked, then suddenly cringed as though the ceiling were falling down around her. Her high, squeaky voice had apparently shocked her even more than the sudden presence of her former wife. "Hi, Victor," Amanda replied cooly. "I've come to tell you that my lawyer and I have reconsidered the settlement. You see, Chelsea and I have gotten to be close with one another. Lovers, actually. And we'd like to start a life together. So the settlement as it is won't work. We're tearing it up and starting over." "Yes, of course," bimbo-Victor said, turning to bimbo-Kyle for support. "We'll give you anything you want! Right?" "Yes, anything!" bimbo-Kyle agreed, and she too cringed at hearing her new, girly voice. "You can have it all, Chelsea. You can have everything you want!" Now I realized who the tall woman was: Chelsea Addison, Amanda's attorney (and apparently now her lover). The same Chelsea Addison that Kyle had said didn't have the nerve for being a successful lawyer. "You don't understand, girls," Chelsea said, stepping forward and grabbing bimbo-Kyle by the ear, making her squeal with pain. "It's not that we CAN have everything. We already HAVE it." There was a few seconds of silence as these words settled in. "Now kneel!" Chelsea demanded. "Both of you!" Without hesitation, both bimbos kneeled. Then Amanda stepped in front of bimbo-Victor. "Oh my god, this is going to be sweet," she laughed. "Are you ready, Chelsea?" Chelsea smiled and, all at once, they lifted up their skirts. Neither of them were wearing any panties. "You never once ate out my pussy when we were married," Amanda complained, drawing her exposed cunt up to bimbo-Victor's pretty face. "But things have changed, haven't they, Vicki? Now let's see how long you can lick me before you get so hot and horny that you start fingering yourself." With that, she mashed Vicki's face into her pussy and, dutifully, her former husband began to work away at her with her tongue. Sure enough, the new bimbo was quite clumsy at cunnilingus. But Amanda seemed to enjoy the effort anyway, if only because, as she had predicted, she spied Vicki reaching her fingers down into her own cunt. "So pathetic," she laughed. A few yards away, Chelsea had bimbo-Kyle in the same position. "You too," she said, drawing the scared bimbo's face to her naked pussy. "And don't bother fighting it, Kyla. We've given you both enough doses of bimbo juice to ensure you'll overjuice immediately, just as soon as you bring yourself to orgasm, which shouldn't take long. Mmmm. There you go. Good. Oh, no. That's too hard. Lick gentler, Kyla. Gentler! You've got to learn how to be tender with a pussy. It's not there to be bashed or banged about. At least, mine isn't. We'll see about yours." Both of the new bimbos, Vicki and Kyla, were now vigorously fingering themselves. I knew their desperation. Hell, I was still feeling it myself. If I hadn't had my hands cuffed above me to the pillar, I would have been doing the same thing. And suffered the same fate. I wasn't the only one who was turned on by it all, either. Vanessa too was wriggling her legs together as she watched the scene before us, wanting the same release I did. But, for now, only the two new bimbos were going to get their orgasms. "That's it, baby," Amanda coaxed when Vicki writhed in her first girl- gasm less than a minute later. She seemed to want to pull her mouth away for air, but Amanda easily kept the small girl's face pressed against her pussy. "Not yet, girly-girl. I'm almost cumming myself just watching you lose your manhood forever. Oohhh, mmmmm! Oh, yeah, Vicki. This is the best sex you ever gave me! Yessss! Don't stop." "What's the matter, are you crying?" Chelsea asked Kyla. I looked closer and, sure enough, I could spot tears running down the Kyla's face. She was realizing how utterly helpless her situation was now, though it didn't stop her from shoving four of her slender fingers into her new, wet hole. Only a few seconds later, she too started to writhe around spasmically in her first girl-gasm. "MMMmmmmmmmmmmmmm," Kyla moaned against Chelsea's cunt. "Don't worry, Kyla," Chelsea mockingly comforted her. "We'll look after both of you very well. Better, at least, than you were treating Vanessa and Trisha here. Why, now that I think of it, you'll make a great secretary at my law office. You've got all of the necessary skills: years of experience in court, a deep knowledge of the law, and a newfound willingness to do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. Because now that you've overjuiced while eating me out, you're mine forever, Kyla. Or at least until I'm tired of you. Now keep licking. You may have had your last orgasm in a while, but, as for me, I'm a long ways from being done." "And after I'm done," Amanda added, talking to the still-licking Vicki, "you can start working on Vanessa over there. I don't think it's fair the way you have treated her. I can't turn her back into her former self, of course, but perhaps I can make up for some of your mistreatment of her. So as her new mistress, I'm going to let her have a lot more fun. From now on, she'll be the head bimbo of the house: your boss. You'll work for her and do whatever she says. Oh, yes, and as her mistress I'll make sure she'll have orgasms everyday. And, Vicki, guess who's going to be lapping up her pussy and getting lots of practice to work on mine? That's right, sweetie. You." Both Vicki and Kyla began rubbing themselves more than ever now, but even as they did so they must have known they would never reach that next orgasm. They were completely in the power of the two women now. It was all so desperate, so very pitiful, that I nearly came just watching them. EPILOGUE: FIVE YEARS LATER Fortunately, though, I didn't cum that night. True to their words, Amanda and Chelsea soon uncuffed Vanessa and let her have fun with Vicki. But for my own good, they only uncuffed me once the bimbo juice had worn off several hours later. They were worried that I wouldn't have been able to control myself, and they were undoubtedly right. The next day, Amanda reported to the police that she had come home to find her husband and his lawyer transformed into perma-bimbos. Apparently, she said, they had been experimenting with bimbo juice for quite some time and had finally gone too far and overjuiced. The police were naturally suspicious of this story, but both Vicki and Kyla confirmed it. Of course, they would say anything if they promised a girl-gasm as their reward. I kept in touch with Amanda and Chelsea. As planned, Vicki worked as a maid for Amanda, and Kyla worked as a secretary for Chelsea. After a while, though, the fun wore off. Only two years later, Amanda and Chelsea grew bored with Vicki and Kyla, and sold them both to a high- class brothel somewhere in Eastern Europe. Of course, legally that's not what happened. In the strictest legal sense, Vicki and Kyla "chose" to move away, just as they had "chosen" to work (and slave) for Amanda and Chelsea. But that's the crazy legal system. Ironically, Victor and Kyle had themselves supported the laws that left perma-bimbos vulnerable to being preyed upon. Amanda and Chelsea did, however, decide to keep Vanessa, whom they felt some responsibility toward and who always provided a little extra spice in their bed. They are all now happy in their several houses and penthouses all over the world, enjoying their wealth. And me? Well, it's been five years now and I'm clean. For good this time, too. Though I had been willing enough to lose my manhood and my identity in the heat of the moment, I could always look back on that moment as the darkest and scariest of my life. I never want to return there again. I have, however, occasionally gotten the urge to tour Eastern Europe and see what kind of fun I might stir up there in its brothels. Perhaps someday. FINIS FACT SHEET ABOUT THE BIMBO JUICE UNIVERSE (For an illustrated version of this, see http://bimbojuiceuniverse.blogspot.com/) USING BIMBO JUICE: Bimbo juice users can come from any walk of life. Some people are attracted to by its risks; others are attracted by the idea of becoming a bimbo. But everyone is attracted to it by the promise of attaining spectacular, nearly superhuman orgasms (aka "girl- gams"). A small dose for a first time user usually lasts five or six hours, during which time the juiced bimbo can make herself cum almost at will. This does not come without its dangers, though. In addition to the risk of overjuicing (see below) and severe addiction, a juiced bimbo is very vulnerable, even helpless, against those who want to take advantage of her. She will do nearly anything for sex, and is tremendously aroused by being dominated or humiliated by her sexual partners. Spankings, handcuffs, and even the threat of becoming a perma-bimbo can bring her to orgasm. This puts her in a perilous position until the effects of the drug wear off. THE LONG-TERM EFFECTS OF BIMBO JUICE: Every bimbo juice user knows the risks of the drug, and most attempt to be very careful when using it. At least at first. Typically, a user will try it in a safe environment such as with a trusted sexual partner. Most users feel safest using it alone. But though a bimbo juice junkie might enjoy weeks or even months having girl-gasms by herself with only her toys and her porno videos as companions, she will inevitably feel the urge to have sex with and submit herself to others. Some speculate that this is because her bimbo nature will never be satisfied unless she has someone from the outside who will dominate and control her or, in other words, treat her like the bimbo she is. OVERJUICING AND PERMA-BIMBOS: The greatest risk a bimbo juice user takes is the risk of overjuicing and becoming a perma-bimbo. For this to happen, two things must occur: first, the user needs to have taken too much bimbo juice, and second, she needs to then reach orgasm. Since taking even a moderate amount of bimbo juice makes a user incredibly aroused sexually, it is almost inevitable that if the first happens so will the second (though there are rare exceptions). A user can tell immediately after her orgasm if she has overjuiced and become a perma- bimbo. This has been documented by many studies. Perma-bimbos often describe it as an unmistakable "click" in their brains that tells them they have passed the point of no return, a sensation followed by an intense sexual arousal that cannot be satisfied, even momentarily. From this point forward, they will never reach orgasm again except at the whim of their master or mistress. BIMBO MASTERS AND BIMBO MISTRESSES: One usually becomes a bimbo master or mistress when one has sex with a bimbo who overjuices. This is because at the moment a bimbo juice user overdoses and becomes a perma- bimbo, she naturally associates whoever she is having sex with as her dominant partner. This does not prevent others from becoming a perma- bimbo's master or mistress. Anyone who dominates her can take on this role. However, the perma-bimbo's connection with that first master or mistress will typically be the strongest. BIMBO JUICE AND THE LEGAL SYSTEM: Although using bimbo juice is frowned upon in society as a shameful and irresponsible act, there is no law preventing the use of it. People are free to make their own choices and their own mistakes. Even once a person becomes a perma-bimbo, there are few provisions for them under the law. Legally, they are deemed "free" to make whatever choices they want. In practical terms, though, they are essentially slaves to their masters or mistresses since their "choices" are inevitably whatever is chosen for them. USING BIMBO JUICE ON OTHERS: Of course, any drug like bimbo juice is bound to be abused, and it is. If a business partner needs to be put out of the way or a cheating spouse needs to be punished, a high dose of bimbo juice will do the trick. There are, of course, laws against drugging others with bimbo juice (which carry heavy prison term penalties), but they are rarely enforced. This is for two reasons. First, the people who buy and use the drug, especially at the dosages it takes to make someone a perma-bimbo, tend to be very rich. And the very rich tend to have very good legal counsel. Second, it is extremely difficult to tell if a perma-bimbo was intentionally drugged by someone else or has just overdosed accidently. This is because perma-bimbos will never contradict their masters or mistresses. If a perma-bimbo's mistress tells the police that her boyfriend was a longtime addict who finally took too much and her bimbofied boyfriend tells them the same thing, then no one might ever find out that the truth was he was about to break up with her. THE EXPENSE OF BIMBO JUICE: One thing that keeps things in check is the cost of bimbo juice, which very high. Those who would seek revenge with it are often deterred by the price. But the price doesn't keep people from being addicted to it. First time users only need a small amount for a few hours of fun. Like many drugs, however, users tend to want (or need) higher and higher dosages to get their fix. JUICE DADDIES: Bimbo juice junkies who aren't rich often resort to other methods to get their hands on the drug. This where "juice daddies" come in. Juice daddies are rich men who enjoy toying around with juice bimbos. They provide a bimbo juice addict with bimbo juice in return for sexual services while the addict is a juiced up bimbo. This is always a dangerous situation for the bimbo juice addict because, for a variety of reasons, it puts them at a much higher risk of overjuicing and becoming a perma-bimbo.