To read the beginning of this story please see “Dad's Virgin Sex Slave” The Unwitting Bimbo Copyright KinkyScribe 2021 A Time to Choose: Soon after I turned twenty-one, Dad told me it was time for a serious heart to heart discussion. He told me now was the last time I would have the opportunity to be free, to leave my Dad behind, if I wanted to do so. As he full well knew, I was no longer free to leave, never could, not since that first day three years prior, when we first met. Dad was too much a part of my life, and my highly regimented daily routine centered around his wishes, which had become my wishes. I was like a prisoner who had become institutionalized, that could no longer live outside the confines of a prison. I had my own prison, even if it wasn't made of steel and concrete. Dad informed me that my modeling career and work had generated over $50,000 in savings. I was told I could use this money to seek out a new life for myself, or use the money to complete my final transformation into the sex slave Dad truly wanted, that Dad knew I would want. I was given a week to decide my future, though we both knew what my future would be, it would always include my Dad. My Surgical Transformation: I wasn't told what my final transformation would entail, other than it involved surgery and considerably modification to my body. I presumed I would be receiving large breast implants, and I was okay with this, as large breasts were already an integral part of my public persona. I looked forward to having large breasts all the time, not just when I wore padded bras and breast forms. I had come to love and crave the attention the appearance of having large breasts brought me. When I awoke from surgery, I became aware of what felt like a heavy weight on my chest. When my eyes could focus, I saw what appeared to be a pillow resting there. My breasts hurt, a lot, and felt extremely swollen. I tried to touch them, but both my hands were restrained to the bed rails. A nurse's face came into view, she asked how I felt, I could only mumble, before slipping back to sleep. When I came to again, I realized how truly large my breasts were. I was later informed that Dad had me fitted with 1,000cc saline implants, transforming my C cups to H cups, the same size as the breast forms I wore. My breasts had increased 5 full cup sizes, and weighed an additional four and a quarter pounds. It looked like I had two beach balls resting on my chest. I dosed off again, still being under the influence of the general anesthesia. I later awoke in a different room, and Dad was there. He asked how I was doing. I said my breasts hurt, a lot. He told me that would soon pass. I said they were really really big. Dad then told me, when my breasts had healed sufficiently from this surgery, I would receive a new set of implants that were twice as big, 2,000cc in size. I couldn't process this information, it didn't seem possible for them to be even larger than they already were, let alone twice as big. How could I walk without falling over? I tried to touch my breasts, but found my hands were still restrained. I was told this was necessary until I was fully aware of and accepting of all my modifications. What other modifications were there I asked? Dad told me he knew how much I disliked my large clitoral hood and large inner labia so he had the doctor remove them. I smiled at the thought of this and thanked him. A nice sleek pussy was now mine. He then told me he knew how much my throbbing clitoris had disturbed my sleep and contributed to my sexual frustration, so he had that removed too. Initially, I was in total denial of this new reality, it couldn't be true, so wasn't, at least in my mind. No one had stimulated my clitoris for the three years I had lived with Dad, and I hadn't experienced orgasm during this period either, nor even attempted too. The physical absence of a clitoris then had no affect on my already absent orgasms and orgasmic ability. Its removal then only reduced my sexual frustration and discomfort, and in the end was of benefit to me. Dad then informed me there was additional modifications to my vulva. What more could possibly have been done, I thought? There wasn't anything left! He told me he wanted me to always be a virgin, so the doctor had reduced the opening of my vulva to half an inch. I had been surgically infibulated. When I later viewed my new vulva for the first time, I observed a urinary catheter extending out to a urine collection bag, and a section of ˝ inch diameter surgical tubing extended out from my vagina, to maintain an adequate opening while I healed. Both tubes passed thorough a single opening, in what had been my vulva. The doctor had been instructed to ensure my hymen remained intact, ensuring I would always be a virgin, at least technically. I would forever by a virgin bimbo, an oxymoron if I ever heard one. The doctor extended my urethra out to the surface of my vulva, using the tissue from my excised inner labia, to allow urine to flow directly out of my body, and not potentially flow back into my vagina. The catheter had to be left in place three weeks, to allow this urethral extension to heal completely. They had to remove the skin covering the inner surfaces of my outer labia, as it contains sebaceous glands that produced sebum, and removed my bartholin's glands, to decrease the chances of body fluids collecting within my closed vulva. The doctor then had to carefully suture together the inner surfaces of my outer labia, to ensure all the inner surfaces healed together, without any hidden voids. These sutures would dissolve on their own over time. Excess outer labial tissue was trimmed away to ensure a flat vulva, before the outer labia were sewn closed, except for about a half inch. Post Surgery Recovery: I was in the hospital for four days, and spent the following week at a nearby hotel, mostly in bed, being cared for by Dad. I was either laying in bed or sitting in a wheelchair for much of my time in recovery. Because of the modifications to my vulva, I had to limit my walks to 10-15 minutes each, for no more than an hour a day, so as not to risk damaging the infibulation sutures. I couldn't shower for 48 hours, nor bath or swim for nearly two months. To protect my new breasts, I was advised to limit the use of my arms for seven days, and not engage in any strenuous physical activity for six weeks. It would be two to three months before I was fully healed and everything settled into their final size and shape. There was no need for physical restraints during my healing period, as there was nothing left to keep out of reach, well there was my ass, but that was the last thing on my mind at the time. My new breasts totally blocked my view of my pussy, and everything below them, including my footwear, as I would soon learn. I wasn't able to view my pussy until Dad connected a video camera to the TV, and allowed me to aim the camera at the region between my legs. It was like I was looking at another woman's pussy, yet my hand was exploring that same pussy. It was certainly smooth and sleek. After the swelling went away, it was as smooths as a doll's genital region. It was then that I realized Dad had transformed me into a living doll. Not only that, I paid for these modifications with the money I earned from modeling and work. That was a shocking realization. Back home, and not yet fully healed, I practically died of boredom, watching endless reruns of TV shows, and lots and lots of movies. Dad rented a hospital bed, as I had to lay on my back, with the head of the bed elevated, while my breasts healed. Laying on my side wasn't allowed for four weeks, and well, I would never sleep on my stomach again. After three weeks of healing, the woman doctor who normally cared for me, came to the house to remove the urinary catheter, and surgical tubing that maintained my small vaginal opening. She reported everything looked to have healed completely, and should be fully functional; what little functionality remained. Urinating was a whole new experience, as my urine exited my body in a slightly new location, and squirted in a new direction. Getting my urine into the urine measurement device took a bit of practice, especially since my boobs where always in the way. Talk about flying blind. I had to carry a small free standing mirror with me so I could see between my legs when I urinated away from home. At home, the mirrored wall in my bathroom turned out to be very helpful. I no longer had labia that needed to be spread to direct my urine flow, and mostly aimed the urine stream by aiming my entire pelvis. My breasts healed much faster than my vulva, but even for them I had to be careful not to put any strain on the incisions or healing tissues. There was no possible way they would soon be twice as big, or so I wanted to believe. I had to wear a sports bra all the time, because of the weight of my breasts, and to ensure they healed correctly, so it could be done all over again in the near future. It was an additional four weeks, six weeks in total, before I could begin to walk any distance, without worry about harming my new pussy, or should I say the empty space between my legs. After six weeks of almost no exercise, my muscles had atrophied quite a bit. It was a painful process of developing my muscles and increasing my flexibility. My personal trainer spent hours with me, slowly increasing my strength and flexibility. We both had to learn how to deal with my huge boobies. Much to our surprise, my boobs didn't limit my exercising very much, unless what I did caused them to bounce. My breasts, projecting a full foot from my chest, presented a couple challenges. The damn things were always getting in the way. I could exercise almost the same as before, but doing simple tasks around the house, or office work, would be close to impossible, as I couldn't get within a foot of anything. Six weeks after surgery, the incisions were healed sufficiently that I could get into the pool, and allow the water to support the weight of my breasts. I loved being in the pool nude, and feeling weightless, my breasts supported by the water as I swam laps, and yes, I could feel the resistance of the water to that passage of my breasts, they are that big. Adjusting to the Changes: I had maintained my liquid diet while healing, and I was thankful for it, especially when I was almost totally confined to bed, or sitting in a chair. I had to reduce my calorie intact significantly, since I wasn't able to exercise, and didn't want to gain weight. My corsets, that had any type of bra or breast support built into them no longer fit correctly, obviously. Dad had a corset maker and a mechanical engineer friend he knew come to the house to design a new corset that would fully support my breasts. When it arrived, I was very eager to put in on. The corset acts like a supporting shelf, taking much of the weight off my back and shoulders, thankfully. It fits like body armor, and I look like a female superhero when wearing it without anything over it. I was a little surprised when Dad had me begin wearing a chastity belt again, not believing it served a purpose, but he informed me my anus still had to be locked away, even if my vagina didn't. With the chastity belt came the butt plug, which I was more than happy to experience again. At least I still had my ass, if Dad would ever allow anyone to use it. Would he? My New Sex Life: While Cindy had been told about my modifications, she was still left speechless when she came to pick me up for a party. Her lesbian friends we shocked by my appearance, and couldn't stop examining my breasts, as best as they could with them secured by the corset. They were the first to call me a “true bimbo,” women can be so mean. Since I was wearing a chastity belt, they didn't know about my smooth genital area. The best thing was that when I was done orally stimulating all the women, I no longer had a throbbing clitoris to contend with. Sure, I became aroused, wet, and my vagina ached a little, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before my circumcision and infibulation. I no longer woke in the middle of the night with a throbbing clitoris, thankfully. Further Modifications: There was additional modifications to come, to complete my transformation into a living doll and bimbo. Part of being a bimbo is having extra large lips, which I was able to have done locally. Silicone implants were inserted into my lips, making them much fuller in appearance. I practically have a duck's bill now, for a mouth. I almost had to relearn the art of eating pussy. The women reported they could definitely feel the difference, and agreed it is an improvement. They said it was as if I have three tongues, when my lips were wet with their pussy juice. After six months, to allow my breasts to heal completely, the breast implants were increased to 2,000cc each, more than doubling the size of my breasts. I'm now a 34M, from a 34C, a 10 cup increase. My breasts implants alone weigh eight and a half pounds. Since I knew what to expect, my mental and physical adjustment to them occurred quickly, having been through the process once before, and I was soon home to complete my healing. I could at least soon walk around, and wasn't confined to bed or a chair. A new corset had to be designed and built once again, and this was quickly done. Thank God for mechanical engineers. Being a Bimbo: Obviously going out in public is quite a social event. I get nothing but stares. I have to walk two feet behind Dad, or my breasts are constantly bumping into his arm. He loves to get an outside table at a local restaurant, to allow the maximum number of people to see me. Not all the attention is positive, but I have come to relish all forms of attention, like a good bimbo. I don't care, as long as everyone notices me. What happened to the shy teen I once was? Special Show and Viewing: Once a year Dad hosts a special party for people who are willing to pay $500 each to watch me do a striptease. Did I mention Dad had hired a fitness instructor who has taught me how to poll dance? It is a bit of a challenge with my huge boobs always in the way, but then Bimbos aren't expected to be good at anything. I strip completely, allowing everyone to see my entire body. When the chastity belt comes off, you can tell people don't believe their eyes. After the striptease, I walked around the room, allowing everyone to see my bare genital region. People are shocked, but also intrigued. They can't believe their eyes and have to confirm what they see with their hands. I sit on a table and spread my legs wide, allowing everyone to see and touch. You should see the expression on a woman's face when her husband or Master suggests they receive the same modifications. A couple women have been extremely curious, asking a lot of intimate questions. Am I the first in a long series of highly modified women, of nearly sexless bimbos? The Present and Future: I'm modeling again, purely as a huge breasted bimbo. A chastity belt wearing bimbo is a mental trip for many people. I'm actually making more money than before, which is an extremely scary thought. What is Dad going to do to me with the additional money? Occasionally I'll perform at strip clubs, and fetish events, but Dad has no interest in me going on tour. It wouldn't be a lot of fun for either of us, and we don't need the money. I perform oral sex only on women, cunnilingus, and fellatio when they wear a strap-on. I'm surprised by how many straight women enjoy a woman going down on them, especially when they know they don't have to reciprocate. A few enjoy watching a woman perform fellatio on them, especially when they are as skilled as I am. Thank you Cindy. Dad keeps talking about anal sex, and the possibility of renting my ass out, but this has yet to occur. Will he possibly auction off my anal virginity, my bimbo ass? I'm curious to experience increased anal stimulation, and intercourse, but Dad doesn't seem concerned about my sexual pleasure. Well obviously, dolls don't experience pleasure, they are to be seen and played with, and discarded when their owner becomes bored with them. Dad has been reading the personal ads a lot lately, will I soon be discarded like an old doll, or have a baby sister, who will take my place?