Nicky; A Bimbo Experience
I was heading to the salon to pick up my sister, her appointments at the salon only scheduled till eight today. She is one of their stylists, working for them for six years now. Her car was acting up again, thus my ferrying her to work and picking her up at closing. When I pulled into the parking lot the place was jammed. I found a spot near the back of the parking lot and made my way into the salon.
Recently the Turnabout Gurl Salon has experienced considerable growth, their basic reason for opening now flourishing once again. Sis had commented about her customers, now over seventy percent of them males. When the salon first opened it was that way, then the females in the area found out what they could accomplish and became the majority of their customers. Now the balance seems to have shifted back to the male customer. Word of mouth had spread from the previous male customers, now more males wanting to experience the salon. The salons popularity causing them to add additions to the salon twice since they opened.
With the parking lot this full, they apparently have a lot of walk-ins, hence my need to go in and wait while Donna finishes her customers. I enjoy watching the goings on in the salon, trying to discern the male customers from the female ones. It was over an hour later when she had finished her last customer, a female I presume who looked quite over done. Her makeup was bold, heavy and quite noticeable. Her hair was also over the top, feminine but exaggerated to the max. Then we have her clothes, just short of slutty, form fitting and leaving a lot of skin exposed. I watched the customer look at her image in the mirror after sis finished, pleased at the reflected image apparently. The services were performed well, just over done. I shook my head at her image, definitely not anything that could be considered mainstream.
After sis joined me I asked her about her last customer. She chuckled, then said she had been getting quite a few like her recently. Her and one other stylist seemed to be sought out by this particular group of customers, the word of mouth spreading quickly. She doesn’t mind doing their hair, nails and makeup. They usually tip well and are a hoot to listen to, their high pitched voices and their valley girl accents make them appear rather simple, in other words they act like a bimbo. If they are called that they swell up in pride, a status symbol for them.
Sis asked me if I was aware that her last customer was male underneath all of the makeup, clothes and hair? I shook my head in disbelief, wondering why a male wanted to look like a bimbo or street walker, my take on how they looked.
We walked out to my car and headed home. We shared a house, well more likely considered a small cottage, with lots of amenities. It was on the edge of town, not near any shopping or entertainment. No public transportation so it was hard to keep rented. For us it was perfect, close enough to the salon for sis and easily accessible to major highways. I was still in school, one more semester till I could get my bachelors degree. The university was more than a few miles away, but easily reached with the roads available in a reasonable time.
The ride home was in silence, sis usually tired after being on her feet for eight to ten hours. I parked next to the cottage and we entered our abode. I headed to the kitchen, having already prepared our dinner. All I had to do was warm the food in the oven for a few minutes and serve. Sis had changed her clothes, now wearing a pair of jeans and a loose top. I preferred her uniform that she wore at work, a young male’s fantasy come true. I got a hug, sis really appreciating the effort I make for her. She was hungry, so there was very little conversation tonight. She did ask about my classes as I cleaned up, and put the left over food in the refrigerator.
I mentioned about one of the professors being sick, now in the hospital. The class had been suspended till he could return. Now there was talk about him not returning, the class being canceled, no credit given. They had tried to get a replacement but no one with enough qualifications was found to take his place. It would mean that I could not graduate this semester, since I would still be three credit hours short for my degree. Then to have to take one class next semester such a waste of time and resources.
With Donna yawning I turned out the lights and we headed to our bedroom. We slept in the master bedroom, two twin beds one on either side of the room. She finished in the bathroom first, by the time I was through she was sound asleep. I kissed her cheek, just something we did to each other every chance we got, then crawled into my own bed. The kiss was usually accompanied with a hug, but Donna was already making noises. I can’t call them snoring but they do sound like that. When I accuse her of snoring she denies it, with a vengeance, accusing me of making it up.
The next morning she was up before me, fixed breakfast and had the coffee pot going full blast. She pounced on my bed to wake me. Grabbing my covers and dragging them off. I got the hint, did my bathroom things and headed to the kitchen. I was served some food, then a huge cup of coffee. I disposed of both, then she wanted to know if I had anything planned for today. I shook my head no, the one class that got canceled my only class for the day. She wanted me to come into the salon with her, She had some gaps in her appointments, with me there she can play with my hair, maybe even give me a makeover. I headed to the bedroom, shaking my head and yelling never.
Well like most females what I had in mind and what I ended up doing are two different worlds. She ended up dressing me, although I had told her just to take my car since I would not need it today. Nope not what she had in mind.
So a half hour later I was dragged into the salon and taken to one of the treatment rooms. Her first appointment was already here so she kissed me and pushed me down in a chair. Giggling she told me to stay, then rubbing the top of my head telling me that I was a good pussy. As you can tell she is a cat lover, several of the local felines making our cottage their home. After a taste of what we offered the next time they came they brought their suitcases and moved in.
In and out all day as she worked on me in between her appointments. I got my hair washed and conditioned, the split ends removed and then set in curlers. She had started the curlers when I was dozing off, by the time I became aware of what she was doing she had just about finished getting them all in. I sighed but did not say anything. I did give her a dirty look, but of course like a typical female it was totally ignored.
Later in the day I got some makeup applied, my ears pierced again and my eyebrows arched significantly. The mirrors in the room were on the other side of the room so being lazy I never ventured over to look at my new image. It was approaching quitting time as she removed my curlers. She was humming as she styled my hair, using way too much hairspray to preserve the look. Apparently satisfied with her work she refreshed my lipstick then helped me to stand up. She removed my shirt, dropped my pants to the floor and then yanked my shorts down to my ankles. I should have stopped her at this point, but it all seemed so surreal. I was handed a pair of panties which I promptly pulled up, not wanting to stay naked any longer than necessary no matter what I was given to wear.
The way too short dress that she had in her hands was next, I tried to escape, looking for my male clothes that she had just removed. Somehow they mysteriously vanished, every where I looked not a sign of them to be seen. I tried to keep the dress from being put on my body, but my hands ended up being in the wrong place to prevent that. With the dress on sis dragged me to a mirror, the image in the mirror an exact duplicate of the bimbo look that she was doing for a lot of her customers.
I was about to start crying, tears already leaking from the corners of my eyes. She pulled me closer and hugged me tightly, kissing my ear and eyes to get me to stop with the tears. I ended up giggling, as her actions seemed to always cheer me up. Besides the damage had already been done, a return to my former look not in the immediate future.
She turned me back to the mirror, making me look at my image more closely. For some reason I reverted to a higher voice, slurring my words and returning her kisses with a vengeance. Now we were both giggling as she dragged me from the salon.
At the door of the salon I hesitated, the dress I was wearing not covering much. Definitely not something I had worn before out in public. Too late, now almost to my car my head swiveling to see if I was being stared at. I was getting plenty of looks but no outright stares or gawking. Sis drove us home, I am sure I was in no shape to operate any machinery much less to remember how to get home in the first place. The heels she had me wear also not conducive to driving a car, much less to walking. I was almost to the car before I managed a walk and not teeter along.
I was pushed into the kitchen and told to warm the leftovers from last night. She did watch for a few minutes to see that I actually found the leftovers, what there was of them, and got them to the microwave. She then trotted off to our bedroom, appearing several minutes later with a huge smile on her face. I did eat a few bites, but was still more concerned with my new radical image. I could see my reflection in some of the kitchen appliances, my eyes focusing on those images.
It was after we had consumed the leftovers that I managed to ask her why the outlandish bimbo look. She just smiled, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “My little sister needs to experience more of what is happening all around her, time spent as a bimbo will broaden her outlook on life. When we talked earlier about my customer your face showed disapproval of their look and behavior. Now you can live the life for awhile, maybe opening your eyes and mind to something new and different.”
Besides I used some semi-permanent makeup on your face and a liquid permanent on your hair, the look you now possess will be with you for several weeks. I started to complain about what she had done, but before my mouth engaged I realized what she has already done will not be easy to reverse. I don’t think school will be any problem, the looks of fellow students covering most any lifestyle or look, but to show up looking like a bimbo might take more nerve that I can summon up.
Now if I can somehow get my mind to accept my radical new look. That thought was being processed as I was staring it my image in the mirror once again. A big sigh escaped my face, easier said than done. I did make my way to our bedroom discovering what sis was smiling about when she returned from changing her clothes. All my masculine clothes were now missing, hopefully just for awhile. Knowing sis I feared they were gone for good, typical of her thought processes once she gets a crazy idea in her head. I found a nightie laying on my bed, so out of the dress, once I figured how to get out of it, and slipped the satin nightie on, Of course, a fresh pair of panties accompanied the nightie and I laid down on my bed, a restful sleep like presence slowly taking over.
The next morning nothing had changed, sis waking me up and making me get ready to take her to work. My only activity for the day was late afternoon, a club meeting that I had participated in since coming to the university. So I had most of the day to do something. With my new look, I wondered just what that might be.
On the drive to the salon sis informed me that I needed more work, my bimbo look just not good enough for everyday life. My mouth opened to protest that statement, but no words escaped since I was wearing leggings and a short dress like top that barely covered my panties. A low pair of heels adorned my feet making driving the car occupy my undivided attention.
Again dragged into the salon and deposited in a room by myself, I was given a magazine to read, naturally one geared for the female. I was later caught by sis reading an article on how to snare a man, and keep him satisfied. Of course, my face turned instant red, every ounce of blood making its way to my upper body, leaving me dizzy and somewhat woozy. Sis assured me once the time came she would help me find a suitable male partner, but wanted assurances of being included in the marriage ceremony. I sure hope that will never happen, especially the part of finding a suitable male.
On today’s agenda was a set of extensions for my fingernails, of course, painted a rich burgundy color. I quickly found out that the longer nails greatly inhibited me in doing almost anything with my hands. They seemed to go with the bimbo look, their length almost an inch past the end of my fingers.
I received a set of breast forms, glued to my chest with their longest lasting adhesive. Now my time as a bimbo trainee would last a minimum of four months before the adhesive could be removed. A fact that sis took great pleasure in informing me of, after the fact though.
She sprayed my throat several times each time my voice became higher, almost a squeaky feminine tone to it. Sis loved my new voice, while I now had serious doubts whether I could handle living in this new persona.
She decided my lashes were not adequate, so individual lashes were added to my eyelids, making my lashes so feminine. I avoided looking in any mirror, knowing I would be shocked at my new appearance.
A change of wardrobe, was necessary for my afternoon club meeting, starting with a bra for my new breast forms. I was given a different dress to wear, while longer than the one this morning, the bodice giving everybody more to look at with regards to my boobs.
I tried to protest, but sis did not want to hear any of it. I was hustled out of the salon, then driven to the college for my club meeting. I was informed she would come and pick me up after she finished at the salon.
When I asked what I was to do while waiting for her, she told me to see if I could snare a member of the male sex, maybe even getting some kisses, better yet a free meal. She did remind me that since I did not have the appropriate equipment down below yet I should limit my actions to kissing, maybe a blow job if I really liked him.
I stood there mouth open, as she drove off, her last words shaking me up considerably. The thought still in my mind, not wanting to leave. I finally made my way to the meeting, although I noticed some lusty stares from several members of the male gender. My time in the meeting was really wasted, sis’s words still occupying any brain functions. I doubted I could tell you anything that had been discussed in the meeting.
Once the club meeting was over I made my escape, several males following me until I entered the ladies restroom. I did everything I could think of trying to kill some time, finally leaving the safe confines of the restroom. To my surprise there were still several males waiting for me, the cutest of them approaching me wanting to start a conversation. He asked a stupid question about the meeting, anything to get me to talk to him. I was reminded of all the stupid pick-up lines I had used in the past this one not much better than some of the ones I had used in the past. I smiled and told him I had to go, my ride will be here soon.
I made it as far as the library, a couple of buildings from where my meeting was, but alas still no sis. I went in and found a table to sit at, one that only had one unoccupied chair so my male suitors had to sit elsewhere. I opened a book that I had grabbed trying to look busy, but instead was staring off into the distance. When I did look at the book closely, it was a book on what to do on a date, written by a female that looked somewhat like a bimbo. That is where sis found me, looking over my shoulder seeing what I was reading.
“Come along Nicky, time to get you home.”
“Well did you learn anything, you sure looked interested in what you were reading? You know I was standing behind you for ten minutes, you never looked up, so engrossed in learning what to do on a date. I will have to find someone for you, with your new look I am sure you will be quite popular.”
I turned instant red, caught red handed so to speak. I didn’t say anything for fear that I will only make things worse.
Luckily she let the conversation drop, grabbing my hand and leading me to the car. I kind of relaxed some, I really did not want to discuss my feelings or looks, either subject foreign and potentially embarrassing.
At home I went to my bedroom planing to change clothes and end this charade. I opened the closet door then remembered that all of my male clothes were gone. I ran to my dresser hoping she had forgot to remove my underwear. I pulled out each drawer, looking for anything that might resemble a piece of male clothing. Absolutely nothing. I slumped to the floor, the tears starting to slide down my face again.
I know this was supposed to be a learning experience for me, but to be totally immersed in this with no other choice in the role had me frantic. The tears eventually dried up, not enough water to fuel the tear production any longer.
So the Bimbo role continued, sis making me practice talking in a valley girl voice and only about my looks and what I was wearing. I eventually gave up, giving in the simpler way to be able to move on to something else. I was still corrected when I lapsed back to my previous ways, but after awhile I found myself unconsciously talking like a bimbo. My new higher voice along with the change in subject matter only reinforced my bimbo image.
Several more trips to the salon in the following days, each time my bimbo looks refreshed and added to. The most notable was a false vagina glued over my groin, sis so proud that I could now have sex with a male, I no longer had to give blowjobs to keep them interested in me. I never did anything with a male, not wanting anything to do with them. Since my looks were designed to attract the male, I was constantly trying to avoid them. No matter where I was at, I had a crowd, wanting to talk to me or interact with me in other ways. The number of times I was touched on my body was ridiculous, sometimes on the leg, or an arm or worse yet on my waist or hips. Luckily not on the breasts, that would have sent me into panic mode right away.
Oh the desire to be touched there was present, maybe desire was not explicit enough. To yearn to have my nipples squeezed, flesh kneaded, to have my breasts held in someones hand, a wish that would be unobtainable I fear.
High heels became a staple, five and six inches tall with a narrow stiletto heel. Straps that fastened around the ankle to hold then on my feet. Decorated with bows and other feminine objects, making them stand out from a normal high heel. It took me a little while to be able to walk comfortably in them, but soon after I learned to maneuver in them it is the only shoe I chose to wear.
Makeup was redone, after my face was cleansed and treated with numerous creams and lotions. She applied it carefully, making sure to not get it anywhere it was not supposed to be. I had watched as she applied the makeup right away figuring out that what she was doing was for the long term. Another nail in my coffin, the bimbo lifestyle now my only future.
A few weeks passed, sis insisting that I go with her to the salon when she had to work. I guess to make sure I interacted with others. I did talk with others, sometimes my voice is super excited, what we were talking about subjects that I lived every moment for.
Fast forward a couple of months, the bimbo lifestyle still with me. Twice weekly appointments at the salon to keep my bimbo looks fresh and sexy. To keep busy at other times of the week I found a job at a ladies boutique, selling clothes for the bimbo wannabes. So I was always on display, wearing some of the dresses we sold. You can never have enough clothes or shoes, my wages at the boutique usually spent on more heels to match my outfits.
Sis works on me when I show up for my appointment, making sure that my hair and makeup are perfect. Since she often goes over my semi-permanent makeup with a fresh coat of color, I doubt it is ever coming off, even if I wanted it removed. Hair now perpetually curly, repeated use of their setting lotion making sure of it. She has added fancy barrettes to my hairstyle, woven into my hair to guarantee they stay put. Definitely high maintenance.
Nicky is going to be around for quite awhile, a fact that I am quite happy about. Back when I first encountered one when sis worked on her at the salon I couldn’t fathom why they wanted to look that way. Now any mention of me reverting back to my male persona is ignored immediately. My bimbo experience was so fulfilling, not realizing how much it means to me.
© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca