Bimbo Hounds

(

Author's note: all characters depicted are 18+ years of age. My kinks are not my politics. Enjoy!)

Natalie hated going out.

Even before the Patriarchs' rise, she'd always been more of an indoor girl. Safely ensconced in the glow of her monitors, green eyes flashing as her fingers danced in staccato clicks, the pale hacker was the mistress of her domain. There was no secret she couldn't sniff out, no snare she couldn't untangle, nothing that could touch her without her say-so.

Outside, it was different. Very different.

Especially these days.

Unfortunately, there was no getting around it. In New Detroit, a man out alone on a Friday night was just as suspicious as an unaccompanied woman. If Hugo was going to make the dead drop without incident, he would need cover from an appropriately feminine escort. Since Aki had vanished, that left only one option.

And right now, that option was really, really not feeling it.

Natalie chewed her thumbnail, hugging one slender leg as she reviewed the mission briefing. She was aware that she was procrastinating, but still--it didn't hurt to double-check the route. This was not a delivery they could afford to miss.

The equipment on offer was an S-14 Neutralizer, the latest in anti-subliminal filters. Once installed, it would clean up all the feeds streaming into their safehouse, allowing them to monitor the media without being exposed to the Patriarchs' hypnotic signals. The reprieve couldn't come soon enough. The other day, Natalie had caught herself absently fellating a pen as she tracked the news. And Hugo...

...Hugo was starting to look at her strangely.

The thought drew a curling warmth up through the fidgeting hacker. She bit her lip, severing the feeling before it could blossom into anything dangerous.

It was so frustrating. They'd been careful, she and her comrades, but there was no way to completely escape the Sex Relations Improvement Act. The tendrils of its multi-pronged "health and wellness" program were everywhere. The food, the water, the airwaves, the net--all had become corrupted and twisted, drugged and sublimated, weaponized with the aim of restoring "traditional roles and values" to the nation. Which was to say: transforming all women into voluptuous, vapid bimbos, and all men into their virile, domineering owners.

Natalie and her crew did their best to mitigate the damage. They took their anti-chems and completed their de-programming exercises; they boiled their water and rationed their screen-time. Even so, it was a war of attrition they were losing, one IQ-point and cup-size at a time. Cells of their resistance movement had been folding across the country, with more and more women degenerating into ditzy dolls by the day. The New Detroit crew had endured longer than most, but they wouldn't last the rest of the year without a major boost to their defenses.

There was no other option: Natalie needed to brave the streets and help Hugo retrieve that S-14. The survival of their cause was worth the discomfort.

Barely.

A notification popped up on one of her monitors: the operation would start soon. Lips quirked into a grimace, Natalie pushed away from her desk and hopped to her feet, landing before the faded doors of her bedroom closet. She slid the compartment open, revealing a line of wrinkled tees and a pile of threadbare sweats. Shoving her normal attire aside, she reached into the back of the narrow space, retrieving a shiny, pink catsuit and a pair of heeled boots to match.

The outfit was anathema to Natalie's taste. But it was a necessary evil if she wanted to move through the city unnoticed. Though her body had changed since the SRIA's launch, she was still a far cry from the jiggling giga-sluts that now made up the majority of the female population. Unlike them, her once-flat chest had only swollen into a modest pair of C-cups, their pert, pink points merely twice as sensitive as they once were. Likewise, her hips, ass, and thighs had put on a few supple pounds, but only enough to balance out the rest of her figure. In many ways, she still resembled a young woman from the pre-SRIA world, a fact that she took great pride in, despite it keeping her indoors most days.

Hence, the pink catsuit. Sighing, Natalie disrobed and slipped her bare legs into the gleaming latex, pausing to admire her relatively normal figure one last time before zipping the skintight garment up to her neck. The second she clasped it shut, the nanites within the fabric activated, ballooning around her curves to form a massive pair of dummy tits and a prominent posterior to match. She gave a test-wiggle, observing how her new, false form bounced and swayed just like the real thing. The sight made her cringe, though a quiet voice in her head noted that she didn't

completely

hate it. She must've absorbed too much programming this week--that new filter couldn't come soon enough.

Next came her makeup, the most intricate and dangerous part of the process. Mainstream beauty products were little more than bimbo toxin bombs these days--even after several rounds of dilution, the set at Natalie's fingertips could still knock her reading comprehension down a grade or two if she wasn't careful. The key was to apply sparingly and slowly, painting a mask just present enough to be noticeable without it being so thick as to smother her identity. It was a balance she'd become good at striking. Even so, all the caution in the world couldn't prevent her lips from tingling beneath the sparkly layer of gloss, nor her eyelids from sinking slightly as the mascara reshaped her gaze. By the time the foundation and its chemical relaxants set in, her sour expression had softened into a placid, pretty pout, shining lips pursed and long lashes fluttering as she gazed into her own bimbofied reflection.

That left one last step: the wig. Natalie's hair was certainly lighter than it used to be, but her choppy, strawberry blond undercut was still a far cry from a true bimbo do. There was a reason the end of the transformation was known as "going pink": as a woman's curves swelled and intellect dimmed, so too did her hair gradually morph, brightening into some variety of glossy pink. Seated before her vanity, Natalie couldn't resist a disgusted sigh as she hid her sharp style beneath a bubblegum façade. She tossed the long, silky tresses from side to side, preening and shifting until they framed her freshly contoured features just right. Tilting her head and giving her best ditzy smile, she could almost believe that the woman staring back at her was as airheaded as she seemed.

Almost.

Her disguise complete, Natalie wobbled to her feet and exited the bedroom. She moved down the adjacent hall while practicing her bimbo walk, hips swaying and boobs bouncing with every step, her body slowly reacquainting itself with its new proportions. By the time she reached the bunker's common area, she could've passed for a natural.

Perhaps that was why Ken nearly choked on his coffee as she entered his view.

"Wh-what?" he sputtered, wide eyes darting from her curves to her hair. "Who are--how did you...?"

The makeup prevented Natalie from full-on glaring. But she managed a disapproving squint.

"Oh." Ken exhaled. "Nat. Jesus. Sorry. Guess I'm still not used to this."

"That makes two of us," Natalie muttered, seating herself on the frayed arm of their sofa. She wasn't sure why his reaction bothered her so much. Ken couldn't help the way he looked at her--the poor boy was struggling against the same insidious influences as the rest of them. In fact, the fight was probably even worse for him. At the tender, hormonal age of 18, he was not only the youngest freedom fighter in their group, but also the most susceptible to the SRIA's programming. Viewed in that light, the fact that he'd merely gawked at her instead of leaping over the kitchen counter to pounce showed a great deal of restraint.

Did that disappoint her a little? Natalie swatted the stray thought away before it could stick. "Where's Hugo?" she demanded.

"Uh." Ken turned so he was no longer facing her, fingers rubbing his temples. "He went back to his room. Said it was just like a woman to keep a man waiting." The boyish rebel flinched. "Sorry. Probably shouldn't have said that last part."

Natalie's fake nails dug into her palms. It was the SRIA's fault, she reminded herself. That was the source of the casual misogyny--not Hugo. "It's fine. I'll go grab him."

"Y-you sure? I don't mind if..."

"I said it's fine," the faux bimbo snapped, already sashaying towards the fluorescent-lit hall. Clearly, Hugo was getting sloppy with his de-programming exercises, a lapse in discipline that required swift, stern correction. That was why Natalie felt she needed to talk to him right away. There was no other reason--just the maintenance of team discipline, she told herself.

"Hugo?" Her fist tapped on the dented metal door, only for it to swing open. "You didn't even close the door? What is with you--oh."

The smell hit her first, halting her in place. A powerful, masculine scent, earthy and inviting, dripping with the alluring tang of sweat. The air was foggy and dark, the silver glow of a monitor revealing nothing but the vague suggestion of a man's bedroom. Still, Natalie's wide eyes recognized the muscular form on the mattress, one tree-trunk arm pumping in urgent rhythm, offering glimpses of the meaty, rigid cock it was pleasuring.

"Uhm..." The faux bimbo gaped dumbly. She'd come in here to say something. What was that again?

"Huh?" The figure suddenly straightened. "Shit! Close the door!"

The shout snapped Natalie back to reality. She retreated with a jolt, slamming the door in her own face. The impact seemed to reverberate through her, breaking the haze in her head as she blinked in the buzzing light.

"Everything okay?" Ken's voice tip-toed down the hall.

"F-fine!" Natalie barked back. "Go help Zander upstairs."

There was a pause, a sigh, then the sound of boots tromping up the ladder, leaving the hidden bunker for the storefront above. In the next moment, the entrance to Hugo's room swung open, the tan, towering freedom fighter now fully clothed as he ducked beneath the low doorframe.

Natalie fixed him with as pointed a stare as she could manage. "Really? You couldn't have waited until after the mission?"

He shrugged. "You were taking forever. Figured I might as well do some extra prep of my own."

"Oh, is that what it's called now?"

"Don't give me that. You know how it is. If I don't...keep the urges down, they start to mess with my head."

"Clearly. Might explain why you've been letting things slip around Ken. And why you forgot to lock your door." She crossed her arms. "Face it, Hugo, you're getting sloppy."

"You..." He took a step forward, nostrils flaring as he bore down on her. Natalie tensed, swallowing the rest of her lecture, heart racing as her breath thinned into a strained, high whisper.

Then, as soon as the threat arose, it dissipated. Hugo's hard eyes softened, his face falling with remorse as he moved away and ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. "Sorry," he said, pulling the thick strands into a loose knot. "I've been losing sleep lately. Guess it's making me careless."

Natalie exhaled a shuddering breath. She was relieved to see him relent--so relieved, in fact, that she suddenly had the impulse to sidle up to the repentant giant, rest her head against that broad chest of his, and trace a finger down the taut fabric of his shirt, murmuring sweet assurances that she would do whatever it took to make him feel better and...

She shook her head, forcing herself back another two steps. "That's no excuse. We can't risk any cracks in protocol. Our enemy never tires, never falters--we can't afford to either."

Hugo nodded glumly, the guilt in his gaze almost enough to pull an apology from her lips.

The hacker looked away, grimacing. Why was she always like this? Why couldn't she just accept his apology without getting one last kick in? She had nothing against Hugo--in fact, she'd always been quite fond of him. Why then, couldn't she help shutting him down?

Because it was necessary, she reminded herself. She had to be a cold, defiant display of feminine strength, even if it meant being kind of a bitch sometimes. As the last female holdout in their cell, she was the only one who could remind them that women weren't just obedient sex-objects, that they still deserved respect, admiration, and deference. Otherwise, the prevailing attitudes of the Patriarchs would slowly poison the men's brains, until they too began seeing her as their rightful property, a hot piece of ass to use however they liked. If their demeanors took that turn, there would be little she could do to stop them. Thanks to the SRIA, their bodies had already begun tightening and hardening into those of apex predators, cocks growing and aching with a near-constant lust for conquest. All it would take was a single slip-up on her part, and she would have three ravenous, insatiable animals upon her, pinning her soft, weak body down as they--

"Uh, Nat?" Hugo's brow furrowed with concern. "Are you...drooling?"

"Huh?" Natalie started, hurriedly wiping the corner of her mouth. "Shit. Must've put on too much lip gloss. Makes everything a little numb, y'know?"

"Right..." Her partner agreed unconvincingly. "Hey, are you sure you're okay to...I mean, should we maybe reconsider..."

She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Not an option. This just proves how badly we need that filter. We can't afford to go on like this."

Hugo sighed and threw on his jacket. "You're right," he said, rolling his neck before slamming a fist into his palm. "Alright. Let's get to work."

______________________________________________

The first step was always the trickiest.

Natalie tottered out the employee exit, the wet asphalt of the alley nearly slipping from under her heels. She placed a hand on the wall for balance, spine tingling as her fingers brushed the rough, damp surface, the scent of rain wafting beneath her nose. Already she was feeling disoriented, exposed. Gone were the smooth, malleable interfaces of the digital world, leaving her vulnerable to the physical realm and all of its frictions. Noise from the nearby streets tumbled all around her, engines and laughter and echoes of song, as smeared and indistinct as the light splattered across the shadows. After months spent underground, the sensory invasion was overwhelming, bearing down on the wobbling hacker as she struggled to stand.

Fortunately, her companion soon stepped beside her, firm hands helping her balance. "You good?" he asked.

"Yes." She took a breath, letting Hugo's touch warm her, ground her. Then, avoiding his eyes, she moved his hand to her side, wrapping her own arm in his. "Let's go."

Together, the two of them set off, the darkness of the alley parting like a curtain as they stepped onto the street proper. Instantly, the dull hum that had enveloped Natalie became a roar, a storm of sight and sound as signs flashed and cars honked, bodies passing and drones flying in every direction. Instinctively, her grip on her escort tightened, her fake bust squishing against the hard contours of his bicep. She tried not to be pleased when she felt him tense as well.

Their route was an elliptical one, part random and part planned, intended to obscure both origin and destination. With every block walked, the sense of chaos gradually subsided, the city and its rhythms becoming more familiar by the moment. As the spinning in her head ceased and the legibility of her surroundings returned, Natalie lifted her gaze from the sidewalk, hoping to reacquaint herself with the city she called home.

What she saw made her stomach clench.

For a while now, Natalie had feared that the Patriarchs were close to victory. There were simply too many signs, too many dismal datapoints for her to deny it. Yet behind her screens, it had been easy to rationalize and doubt, to label disturbing news as propaganda and insist that even as the formal resistance movement died, there were still plenty of hearts and minds ready to take up the fight.

This fragile hope was all but obliterated by what she saw now. The streets were positively radiant with excitement and energy, the atmosphere not far from that of a festival, despite it being an otherwise unremarkable Friday. Gaggles of bimbos bounced down the sidewalks, giggling and flirting as their men led them into bustling shopping centers and bars. Some of the women were dressed in the traditional manner, tits straining their tawdry tube tops as neon thongs peeked out from their cut-off shorts. Others exhibited a more high-class escort look, hips rolling elegantly beneath dresses of fine silk, their glittering jewelry almost enough to distract from the plunging necklines and thigh high slits. Lace, latex, lingerie--every color of the bimbo rainbow was out on display, united only by their ridiculous curves and equally absurd smiles.

Natalie's cataloging was interrupted as Hugo jerked to a stop, throwing the faux bimbo off-balance. She turned, incensed, only to notice that her escort was staring somewhere in the distance, his face rigid with shock.

"Is that her?" he breathed.

The question punched the air from Natalie's lungs, her eyes darting to where Hugo was looking. In the line for a nearby club, a woman of Asian descent was teasing her man, guiding his hand over her top to the visible nub of her nipple. She let out a small giggle, biting her lip as her hips shifted and skirt swished. Her face was alluring, doll-like and smooth, with large eyes and a small, playful mouth. But...

"It's not Aki," Natalie decided.

Hugo wavered. "Are you sure? With all the changes and everything, maybe..."

"It's not." She shot him a dubious look. "Even if it was, what would you do? The girl's clearly too far gone."

"I..." The handsome giant's features went slack with defeat. "I don't know..."

"We're wasting time. Let's keep moving." The faux bimbo tugged him along, his gaze lingering on the mysterious vixen until she vanished from view. Natalie tried to swallow her disgust, and felt an angry barb stick in her throat.

She should've known this would happen. Ever since Aki's disappearance, Hugo couldn't make a grocery run without seeing phantoms of her everywhere. The two of them had been close--intimate, even--before she'd vanished after a botched factory bombing. Almost a year had passed since they'd lost contact with her, and still Hugo hadn't given up on seeing her again. It was a hopeless case, as far as Natalie was concerned; even if Aki did return, chances were she wouldn't be the same fierce rebel leader they once knew.

Why, then, did Hugo remain so fixated on her?

The question burned in the back of the hacker's brain, warming her face as she and her escort continued their journey. Was Aki really ever that great? Sure, she was charismatic. And attractive. And way better at dealing with people than Natalie ever was. There was just something about the raven-haired beauty, a way she could look at you and make you feel like you were the only other person in the world. When they'd first met, Natalie had felt special, thinking those eyes were meant just for her. Then she learned it was more like an aura Aki couldn't switch off, a shining beacon for ships lost in stormy waters, drawing them far and wide into her harbor. When Natalie recognized this, it felt like she'd glimpsed a beautiful dream she could never actually inhabit. It was too dazzling. Too pure. And...and...

It just wasn't

fair

.

Natalie's jaw clenched, a faint bitterness crawling on her tongue. Even now, almost a year after their guiding light had disappeared, Hugo still clung desperately to the afterglow. Why? Why was he so determined to torture himself looking back, when everything he needed was right in front of him? He still had his friends. He still had his mission. And he still had...still had...