Another Build Your Own Bimbo To Him

His cock stiffened, threatening to display a bulge he was not sure he could hide, as he watched the glass tip and the smooth, expensive wine disappear behind the matching red lips and into the crimson mouth of the blonde sitting across from him, a freshly-cleaned plate of exquisite, $60 prize cut steak with all the extras sitting on the table before her beneath a pair of generous, perky, and button-stretching breasts. His eye fell to them momentarily, catching the slight shadow of light brown bosom and dark cleavage through the gap between two buttons, and he grinned, a one-sided, coy grin that made him look only more handsome to her. She smiled back, girlish and giggly.

'Is it just me,' she slurred slightly, 'or am I a bish drunk?' She swallowed, blinked. 'A bit shrunk. A bit... Drunk.' She plonked the wine glass down, frowning comically at him. 'Oh my god! I am, aren't you--I?'

It was date number 5, and Charlie Vaughn wore a striking maroon velvet suit jacket over a stunning black under layer, complimented by a deep grey shirt and a clean, crisp white tie. It was a bold, elegant look - something Ed Sheeran might have worn. Vaughn pulled it off, his short, spiked black hair sticking up uniformly from his head, aided by a modest, matte gel. He had shaved the night before, and so his after-5 now complimented his features, and the browning of his skin, unlike that of the blonde woman sitting across from him, was natural, the result of a love for his private getaway; a premium, modest private yacht, a simple two-level structure with a few downstairs beds and living and an upstairs deck complete with cabin, sun deck and enough recreation space for a ping-pong table. He kept the thing in a simple waterside shed a few miles up the coast, and it was only a ten-minute sail from there out to the nearby point, where he could sit in the open shallows free from any fishers, trawlers, carriers or ferries for fifty miles all around, his only contender for visibility being one automated lighthouse nearby.

Vaughn was a biologist. A very,

very

good one. At thirty-two, he had made a name for himself right out of high school with a propensity for biological understanding; he had completed college a few years later near the top of his class, his marks only falling due to missed deadlines and unfocussed work, his essays and hypotheses often going off on a tangent that related to human virology or DNA, cell reproduction or hormone interferences. He left his class with a respectably high score and immediately applied for, and was accepted into a biological development team supporting a global clinical research company, a private entity tasking minds with finding the answers to everything from cancer to pimples.

For a few years, he performed his studies with little majesty, but quickly grew bored of the repeated minute progress-making, followed almost ritualistically by a shareholder-and-investor-focused pushback when it came to active trials, resulting in, so to speak, the drawing board. Vaughn quit the day after his third anniversary at the place, and had only been off the books for five hours when he had received a private phone call from a very highly-placed director in the company. By close of business that day, he had been reinstated under the private directorship of a much smaller, much more focused team of bio-developers and researchers, now answering directly to his new boss and senior director.

Progress was quicker then, and more exciting. The boredom of a new flu vaccine was gone; now, he was fast-tracking skin regrowth treatment and neuro-plasticity triggers to lab trials, showing results to only one manager and more often than not either being congratulated, or pointed in a direction to focus himself on, quickly resulting in rapid and groundbreaking developments. He made excelled then, and climbed the ranks until he was the head of the division, overseeing the team's developmental work personally and reporting directly to his board-member boss. He had personal projects, hired whoever he wanted, had garnered respect and freedom of operations, and he even got paid pretty well for it all.

And of all his projects, one in particular was, at that very moment, coursing down the blonde woman's throat and into her digestive tract, where the serum was rapidly being absorbed into her bloodstream, carrying with it a neuro-reactive agent and a generous dose of a virus-based, DNA-utilizing, hormone-altering drug, the effects of which were quite obviously taking hold inside - and outside - her body, even at that moment.

The blonde smiled and hiccupped slightly. She must have been a lightweight - the bottle of wine, while mostly finished, had been equally shared between them. Well, it had

mostly

, anyway - and yet she

was

indeed somewhat drunk. Inwardly, Vaughn shrugged - he had no mass data to indicate the potential roadblocks alcohol might have on the drug, but given its carrier and culture, it was unlikely to have any major impact on the effectiveness or result of the infusion, except perhaps only to delay or accelerate the process, and possibly to make it harder to identify what was the neurological agent and what was simply the drink. Vaughn smiled back, leaned one arm over the back of the chair. He eyed her cooly.

'Feeling alright, over there, my girl?' he queried, a slight smirk on his face as his eyes once again flicked down to the ever-growing split between the left-hand edge of her shirt and the right-hand edge. He could perhaps see a little more breast in there now, and the hint of what looked to be a blue lace bra stretched tight across the lower edge. It was like a peep-hole into a pending explosion, like looking through the port hole of a submarine as it bulged outwards under immense pressures on the inside.

'Now who are you,' she started, 'calling a 'my girl'?' She asked, pointing the glass at him, the wine sloshing within. She took another sip, and he smiled again. 'I'm not a 'your girl', I'm a... A

my

, my girl.' She frowned, downed the remainder. Something she had said didn't make sense, but she gave up before coming to a conclusion. Blinking again, she faced him. 'Sorry, what are we doing again?'

Vaughn grinned, sat up straight. 'Getting the bill, and stepping outside to my car. Let me take you away from here.'

Vaughn didn't ask her if she wanted to come home with him, but when he offered her his passenger side door, she didn't pause or question him, stepping wobblingly inside, her heels clacking on the asphalt. He eyed the rump pressing against her skirt and resisted the urge to put his fist around it as it slipped past him, pressing into the leather of his Mercedes. He joined her a few moments later, and together they sped off the mark.

When Vaughn pulled up at his boathouse, the blonde was giggling and chattering stupidly in his passenger seat, so preoccupied with her singular thought train that she didn't stop to wonder where they were until she was walking along the boardwalk beside his yacht. 'And I was like, that's so like, weird because, you know, it's not very like, womanly, you know? And he was all like- I mean, well he went- okay, well I don't remember, but hehe, he was silly. You know I thought he was sorta cute? Hehe, his muscles were big, I liked that. You know you're kinda muscly too, and kinda hot, hehe - sorry, was that a bit too like, forward or something of me? I dunno, I just think you're sorta hot it's just, I dunno, hehe. I feel so tingly!'

Vaughn simply guided the woman by the arm, helping her to step over the planks and onto the softer ramp leading across the thin gap to his boat. He held her by her waist as she walked in front of him, growing more and more confident in himself as her condition progressed, and she didn't argue, giggling as his fingertips slipped from her arm to her hips, commenting on how quickly things seemed to be moving between them yet not making any move to stop him.

After a few minutes with the blonde chattering and giggling at herself, her buoyant chest wobbling as she sat behind him in the cabin, Vaughn worked the machine out of the cover of the boathouse and into the water proper, quickly revving the engine up and taking the clipper out into the open coast. The moon sparkled across the water, gleaming and glittering in the nighttime clear, stars twinkling overhead. The blonde couldn't stop herself from 'oo'ing and 'aah'ing, pointing with one dramatic finger-and-fist at the light and giggling like a schoolgirl. Vaughn, once he had the boat headed to his favorite anchor spot, just watched her from his wheel, his eyes now fixated on the bloated, tight chest and the sloping waist beneath. He was undressing the woman with his eyes, imagining those buttons popping away as his fingers pressed into them, pulling it aside as the girl moaned and sighed, his knee pressed between her legs, hot sex already soaking into his trousers there as it emanated from her needy core...

It took about ten minutes to get the boat away from the coastline and out over the shallows, where rocky ground and uneven currents made travel here mostly pointless and only one empty, automated lighthouse could see him. When he arrived, he dropped the anchor and wound the boat in, feeling it settle atop the still waters, rocking gently beneath him. He had tossed his jacket aside during the trip, and he only looked sexier in his black and grey underclothes, the sleeves rolled up and his tousled hair messy. He rounded on the woman, who sat perched awkwardly on a leather seat in the back of the cabin, blinking at him.

The girl had expanded perfectly, his viral agent successfully transforming her from a rather generous blonde to an excessively-sized one. Of course, the changes had been mostly proportional to his previous expectations, and the woman, having been possessed of a far larger chest than his previous test subject, had grown significantly - her bosom now stood heavily out from her chest, her bra no doubt near to snapping as it desperately tried to hold up their immense weight. Her shirt had given up two buttons already, not that she had noticed, and there was now a hole big enough for him to easily stick his cock through at the front edge of her tits. He felt himself thicken and stretch his pants as he rounded on her, looking down at the massive breasts. He smiled, slipped his palm against her cheek, taking in her face; her lips had puffed up nicely, thick and plump and curving sensuously, and her cheeks had gained some extra fluff around the edges. She blinked through thick eyelashes - a curious note he would have to analyze further, later on, her eyelashes having apparently also grown to some extent following the final agent's delivery - her green eyes round and questioning.

'How do you feel, Claire?' Vaughn asked, holding her face. She blinked.

'I...' She stammered, struggling to form any further response. 'I... Fizzy. I, um... Biggy.'

'You are.' Vaughn affirmed. 'Just the way I like you.' He slipped his hand down, along the side of one gigantic, bulging breast, finding her arm and lifting it. 'Come with me, I have someone I want you to meet.'

And so, Vaughn pulled the wobbly, stumbling bimbo he had created towards the staircase at the side of the cabin, helping her slowly down the steps, her newfound weight and precarious heels threatening to send her tumbling. She giggled and did not pull away when he used her chest as support, even sighing as his huge hand closed over one puffy, stiff nipple in her shirt. Another button popped as they descended, and Vaughn just caught it flying off behind the toaster in the kitchenette. A memento for later, he thought.

Downstairs in Vaughn's yacht was tight but spacious enough for all its needs. There were three beds, two on the ground level and one bunked above the other. Cupboards and storage space took up the rest of the room, and there was a kitchenette, wash area and even compact washer/dryer under the stairwell. In the centre of the room sat a leather pull-out couch, ticking the total number of potential sleeping spaces up to five, if a couple shared the pull-out. Sitting on that same couch, dressed only in a double-XL Space Invaders shirt that still struggled to hide anything below the underside of her tits, and holding a phone in her hand, was Paris, Vaughn's previous - and first - field test of his viral drug on a live human subject. A complete success, Vaughn's slow-administered viral agent had converted Paris permanently from a slender, intelligent date into a ballooning bimbo, her intellect dulcified and her body enlarged. She had forgotten most of her previous life, now living as a frivolous, simple woman, going day to day at Vaughn's side thinking only about food, sex and whatever she could see immediately around her. Vaughn, ever the gentleman, had naturally acquired many of her assets and was in the currently having paperwork processed that would legally list Paris as his dependent in a non-monetary, non-restrictive, volunteering caregiver capacity, allowing him the freedom to manager her effects and her life without having to report her health or have her checked out by governmental agencies. He would soon have similar filings in place for Claire.

And now, after spending a few weeks milling about the house with Vaughn, variously playing silly games on her phone or watching shows on TV - and frequently engaging herself in the use of nearly all of his proffered sexual aids for her own seemingly unending needs, mostly on his couch or in his bed, whenever she wasn't availing herself of his body at his convenience - Paris was here, lounging in his boat, waiting for him to arrive so that he could spread her dumb little cock hole and make her feel all good like he always did. Her first thought on seeing the pair enter was to split her thighs and await his glorious penetration - her second, on seeing the new woman specifically, was to giggle and gawk at the sheer size of her chest, pointing like a little girl.

'Oh my god,' she said. 'You're, like,

huuuge.

' The blonde looked at the finger, then at the other woman, and then down at her own chest, now like a shelf beneath her face. She seemed to notice herself then for the first time.

'O. M. G.' She said. 'Hehe!' She grasped her tits in each hand, her hands looking tiny as they closed around only a small portion of the chest. She didn't seem to have any other available words at hand, and just giggled instead, gawking.

Vaughn didn't waste time - he'd already seen the view of the typically damp pussy waiting between the legs of his existing bimbo-ified woman as he'd descended the stairs, his erection pulsating as he felt it around his shaft in his head. Only one thing was stopping him from bending over her and pumping it full, and she was standing right next to him.

Vaughn put his fingers in the hole at the front of the shirt clenching desperately to Claire's chest and pulled. It couldn't resist this much pressure and tore asunder easily, Claire's chest bursting out above the bra, spilling over it and dropping six inches in the air, bouncing and wobbling. Both women giggled stupidly and Vaughn quickly moved around her to rip the straps away, the pain making the blonde huff and titter as she registered it not with discomfort, but with arousal. Vaughn's fingertips slipped over her tanned skin, making her tingle and shiver, sliding around her body and over her tits before descending to her waistline. The woman moaned softly, leaning into him with her ass as his hands slithered around the skirt and pulled at it, forcing it tautly over her rump. It took some significant squeezing, but the thing finally passed over the mass, and Vaughn watched it fall away, leaving a huge, circular double-planet in its wake. He grasped both cheeks, working them around and around - he could hear the soft sound of it moving her down there and knew she was as wet as Paris already, if not more so. He sampled her skin, feeling the tightness of her body despite the intense expansion it had gone under--a side effect of the serum's method of reconfiguring existing and new body mass, rather than the typical overloading of fat accustomed to this type of body size. It resulted in a tight, shapely, figure-retaining expansion, rather than a looser, saggier growth.

For Claire, the arousal had set in now, triggered by the look of Vaughn and his touches. Now that he was undressing her and touching her more intimately, it was all she could think about, all she could feel. Her pussy screamed for contact and she could feel the wetness pouring from her, her panties sticking to her body as it worked overtime to prepare for sex. When it at last felt those same panties disappear suddenly from her body, leaving her pussy bare to the cool, salty air, she felt a visceral shiver ripple through her. Even just that slight sensation alone was enough to make her depths ripple and squeeze around a cock or hand that was not there, making it yearn all the more for one, and it pumped wetness forth from her in eagerness, causing it to pour down her inner thighs.

It didn't take Vaughn long to provide the nearly-brainless vagina with what it wanted. Drinking in the bimbo-ified blonde before him, Vaughn marveled at his creation's ability to take a woman and enhance her. Where before had been a fairly tall, modest blonde with a good ass and perhaps double-D tits, now he was looking at a bloated, shapely female with massive, rolling hips, a huge ass, and breasts so big they probably warranted a new scale - he wondered idly if a F, G or even H cup existed, and if it did, which would apply to these gargantuan knockers. Taking them in his hands, he grasped her by the nipples, working them around and around, twisting his hands so that her nipples pulled and stretched. Claire gasped heavily, moaning and squeezing her knees together, jerking her hips in arousal at even this stimulation. Leaning back, Vaughn looked down at the bare cunt beneath the massive pair and saw her natural lubricant already soaking down the insides of her thighs, a glistening stream slowly running there as if the girl was very slowly pissing herself. He sampled it, checking that it was in fact not urine, and smiled as he tasted the salty, tangy taste of pure feminine arousal. If there was anything else in it, it was certainly the minority.

'Paris, move up.' Vaughn said. Taking Claire by the waist, he manhandled the woman about until she was backed up to the couch, then sat her down, keeping his knees between hers as she descended. His hand met her sopping pussy instantly and she gasped loudly as his fingers slipped over the slick folds, the puffy meat generous and soaked thoroughly in her wetness. She groaned and melted into the couch, lying back as Vaughn's right hand slipped between the two walls, parting her and pushing into a spacious, hot cave. His hand kept going, more and more disappearing inside her generous depths as it welcomed him in, until his whole fist popped easily through the entranceway. Claire moaned loudly and rocked up into him as his hand entered her, fitting her body better than he had expected. He worked himself around inside her, pumping slowly for a while, feeing the impossibly spacious, heated love cave until he at last pulled free, his slick hand coated in her sticky excretions.

Vaughn stripped, and by the time his cock returned to the woman's body, Paris's had attached itself to her face, the shaved pussy of his first bimbo bitch meeting the blonde's and descending over it as she leaned on the blonde's chest, gently rocking and panting as the woman ate her out with relish, her cheeks covering the female's eyes entirely. Vaughn just grinned, knowing neither horny woman could resist any stimulation if presented, and just reached for one hanging breast as he stepped up to Claire's cunt.