The Bimbo Asylum: Stream of ...

Abstract: The brainwashing only works on four out of five women. The others have to stay at the Bimbo Asylum.

A QUICK RAMBLING ENDLESS NOTE DIRECTLY TRANSCRIBED FROM INMATE MADISON:

Dear Reader-Deader,

This story follows from the facts set out in The Bimbo Asylum (1&2) but it is a side story and not a Part 3. Plus it differs in writing style with its use of stream of consciousness, but not going as far out there as Faulkner did.

Oooo! Yes, bimbo smut was just compared to Faulkner. Ha! Eeee! I can't believe it. So I hope you enjoy this smutty smut smut -- oh god, I want to do you so bad, whoever you are out there and, yes, you too my typist typing all my typable words so fast and true. No, keep typing. Yeah keep typing. I SAID TYPE! Why did you use the caps key just nowy wowy? I didn't yell, but I did say "type" rather sternly though. I am sorry for that, but I did mean type all of it. Go back now, you dirty dirty typist. Capture it all. Lap it all up onto that computer screen just like I would do to you if I were on my knees between your loins right now.

Guess where I'm going to put my finger now. I know you like it. Don't stop typing. I said don't stop! Oh, shit I forgot about the reader...

So of course to you, the reader, enjoy.

With boundless love and lust, your devoted blonde bimbo and mad scientist,

-- Maddie Mad Madison -- Actually, Madison Rachel Carson, but I don't think I'm supposed to know that anymore...

P.S. Yeah type that too. Don't argue. TYPE. Type the sound of what I just did to you. Type it! Smack. Yeah, I just hit the typist. Don't stop and I won't do that again so hardy-wardy-dardy. Type the sound. Smooch. Yeah, that was a gently juicy kiss. I know you, the typist, liked it though. Smack. Let me touch a keyboard button. i like the shift key. i don't think the typist iS liking what i'm dOing now -- the part that you, the readerS, can't see. yeah, i don't know how you wIll type thaT part eIther or the soundS you're making righT now, so sure yeaH i'll lEt you skip it. seriously. you CAn. i won't hurt you if you don't. now iNdent. don't be afrAiDy-waIdy.

so, to you the reAder, i ask, was my note clear and coNciSe enough and not a code? becauSe i hate unclEar writiNg and i'm just dictating here. nuDge. nudge. tHat had dick in it. i tEnd to rambLe on and i'm a little lost looking at a keyboard with all the buttons even though i'm not the one tyPing. smack. i said keep up and stop your sniveling. And i am only referring to the keyboard i see here and not the one you may have wherever you, the reader, might be at -- whoa, maybe you don't even HavE one -- tabLets peoPle!

smack. i didn't tell you to stop. Fine, I'll stand over here. But keep typing.

P.P.S Are you sure there really are that many symbols in the English alphabet? Because that keyboard, the one now out of my reach, has -- I think -- too many keys and I don't think those weird box and triangle symbols, and the radiating suns on the top row keys are really letters or numbers or valid punctuation even. And what does that inset button with a circle and a line segment cutting into it at twelve o'clock do when you pre...

CHAPTER 1: A New Inmate Named Bubbles (Patient Number 962)

Oooooooooooooo, marshmallows are soooooo soft! How did I get a bowl of them? Squirrel! Yes! No. Saddness. Sorry, I had thought a squirrel had somehow gotten into the Asylum's courtyard. Oh, wait! Yes! Oh, it's a rat. No - a mouse. It's just sooooo cute!

Guard! He's tall.

Oh wait. There's the little furry guy. I love how it scurries down near and in and about the shadows close to the walls. Oh, how I wish I could hide like that.

"Don't go there little guy," I whispered. Ohhhh! He couldn't hear me across the courtyard. Why? Silly. It's too far. Stocking snag. Why couldn't they sand these wood benches? "Stop little guy," I murmured. "You don't want to know what happens behind that green door." Oh no. He, it, her, whatever went inside! The green door closed. Something flashed in my mind.

It was late night. I remembered two guards cutting off my clothes with shears. A hand covering my mouth let go long enough to make way for a rag doused in something so strong that the fumes crept into my nose and mouth -- my lungs -- my sinuses. My body was floating and then the zipper started -- the endless zipping. It began at my feet and slowly firmly moved up my body. I heard the sound of the zipper teeth meshing together and felt my legs being snugged together. My arms pressed to my sides. My shoulders were held firm. I was being sealed in! The closing zipper tab went to the side of my mouth around my face.

I felt so groggy. I opened my eyes. I could still see. I was behind a mask with holes cut out only for the eyes. I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't turn my head. I couldn't move my arms or hands. Only my eyes could move. They were surrounded by cutouts in a thick material that probably swathed my whole body.

I just stared at the guard in front of me. What else could I do?

"She has pretty eyes," he said pinching my face with his horrid hands.

Ooooo, another mouse in the courtyard! How many were wandering the Asylum anyway? Pet? No, that's probably not a good idea. I'd forget to feed it and the poor thing would starve.

Oh shit, I didn't have a pet starving back in my padded cell right now did I? Wait. Keep waiting. Wait some more. No, I didn't think so. I'd feeeeeeeeel soooo guilty otherwise. My heart was pounding. "Breathe. Calm down. Breathe. Clam down."

Wait. I remembered that night again.

My arms were glued to my sides. I began to think that they had strapped my wrists inside the zipped-up body wrap because even if you were tucked in tight in a blanket you could always move a little. I stopped writhing as they leaned my mummy bound body against a cart. I tilted back. My eyes stung. Eye drops! What? Now they're rolled me about like cargo. Where? Why? The light fixtures passed overhead. I stopped counting after thirty.

Ohhh! I dropped the bowl of marshmallows. I always said mellows though not mallows. What was a mallow? Or a mellow? Wait. I knew this. They couldn't take everything away from me. My mind was still mine! I could think this through.

I felt my arms bound in a thick cotton crappy cloth of a cruel straight jacket. I rapidly rotated my shoulders and then this bitch slapped me.

"Don't struggle against the jacket," she said. "It'll hurt our group points."

Wait, that was months ago. Or was it last week? Yesterday? I looked down at my hands sitting in my lap. I wasn't in a straightjacket after all. When was I struggling against one?

Then I noticed my clothes. "I'm wearing panties in public," I said. I saw my white matching lacy bra and my white silky so so so smooth silky-wilky stockings. What the fuck was I doing here? I held up my right leg in the air with a high heel shoe strapped on with little padlocks securing it. A garter belt stretched taunt under my butt to the back of my leg's stocking top. The thin belts in front went loose. What happened to me? Was I a slut now?

"Good idea showing off your leg to the passing guards," said the same woman who had slapped me when I had worn a straightjacket. How long ago was that? Shit. She's wearing the same lingerie I was and she imitated my moves.

What was a 'marllow' anyway? No, mallow. I knew this. Oh yeah, I should put my leg back down. My companion idiot followed my lead. Why was I sitting with this idiot? She was soooooo stu-stu-stu-something -- stupid! I cringed at her. She stuck her tongue out at me. I wanted it in my mouth so bad.

Where had that thought come from? Did I say it out loud? I hoped not.

"Sure," she said leaning in fluttering her tongue. Shit. I did say that out loud. Well now I guess I have to. I mean I invited her over to swap spit. Ooo, how derogatory of me to say it that way. I hoped I hadn't said that out loud too. I leaned in and pinched her tongue with my lips. She put her hands behind my head and pressed our faces together firmly. I hoped that I didn't drop the marshmallows. Oh wait. I had already. They were everywhere now.

She pulled away and said, "Well you have to move your tongue too. It's a two way street you know."

We French kissed again. Her tongue massaged the top of mine. I didn't like a woman inside my mouth like this. My tongue pushed back.

God, these high heels hurt. And that guard, he wouldn't stop starring at me -- or us, or my boobies.

Were my boobs actually bigger? I began to think they were. I grabbed them and looked sideways at the guard. He liked what he was seeing. I hadn't intended that, but I continued to feel up my breasts even more and all the while I kept French kissing the idiot as my eyes strained to look sideways at the guard. Was I trying to invite him over?

Cock! I knew that guard. That's why I'm looking at the shithead. He made me suck him off this morning before recess. Had I just called this recess? What was this? School? Recess! Bullshit. It's yard time. Prison yard time. I guessed that was a better name. Wait a second, had I just skipped over the memory of sucking a man's cock that morning? I went back to that thought. It seemed important. Or was it enjoyable? I hoped that was not why I kept picturing it happening again and again and then I realized something. I've been doing that every morning for a while now.

The woman's tongue swiped across the backs of my teeth. Disgusting. I moaned to make her think that I liked it. Why? I shrugged my shoulders and pressed my boobs together with my elbows as I tried to keep my hands away from her, but I also thought maybe I should push her away. My hands hesitated. I had been holding them up and moved them back and forth between our shoulders, but only lightly touching hers. The backs of my hands sometimes pressed against my bare shoulders. Sometimes they moved forward and my fingertips pushed against her bare shoulders. But my hands refused to push her away. They went back to my shoulders again not knowing what to do.

I didn't like this or her, but I guess I should moan more as if I did like it. I became proud of myself. It took effort to fake enthusiasm like that -- wait, I'm not thinking about her. I'm thinking about the enthusiasm I showed sucking the guard's cock.

I looked up so lovingly at him as I sat there on my ankles and knees. Man, the hard floor hurt.

I needed to remember to grab a pillow from my bunk bed for the next time. Oh shit, did I agree to return at night? I felt a key in my left bra cup. It would get me passed a barred door and over to his on site apartment if he couldn't take me there himself after yard time.

I hated how he patted me on the head after I blew him. The bastard actually patted me on the head like a doggy dog poochie poodle doodle.

No! Think! But more bimbo thoughts flooded into my head. Yes! Mallow. It's a flower. Thank god. I actually remembered something. What happened to the mouse and why were there little marshmallows all over my lap? And who's this woman sucking my face?

The woman pulled away.

Finally.

I wiped my mouth while she said, "So sweet and tasty you are."

"Thank you," I said. Come on. I couldn't be rude. I had to say that.

God they are so soft and squishy -- the marshmallows. Not her lips or her tongue. I knew what you were thinking. I just did not know who you -- oh shit. Did I have multiple personalities now? Who else was in here? Hello! I swore that I just saw my self giggle and run off into the dark corners of my mind. Come back! I ran after her. I crossed a field and into a garden of thoughts growing untamed in my mind. It turned real. I grew up near this field. It bloomed like this in Spring. I saw myself wave back. "Come back!" I yelled in my head. "I'm trying to help you. We've got to work together to figure this out." She stuck her tongue out at me and for a second looked just like that idiot I French kissed. Then it was me again. I ran or she ran. We both ran. I wanted to tackle her and run my hands over her white lingerie and she and I would be one again. No! I saw her climbed down into a manhole. She closed the lid!

I was in the Asylum courtyard again.

Marshmallows covered my lap. I swiped some off and then saw my cleavage again. I held my two girls and squeezed them and felt their fleshy weight. They were in fact bigger. I felt a key in my bra. Oh yeah. A guard gave me a key. He wanted me to go down a certain restricted hallway tonight to reach his apartment. He lived here at the Asylum. Fucker. He wanted me for sex. Well I'm not -- marshmallow!

I picked one up a marshmallow between my gently squeezing legs and pinched it between my fingers. Too sugary though to eat, so why did I have a bowl of them? Where did the bowl go? Oh yes, mallow, Althaea Officinalis, a medicinal plant. I popped the little sugar pillow in my mouth. I chewed once and paused.

Crap. The other bigger guard was coming over.

CHAPTER 2: Vinnie (Chief Guard)

I loved breaking in new patients. Especially the ones that took to the eye drops so easily. Two drops once every hour for a day and then release the long leggy lingerie creature into the wild of the courtyard and, bam. The other women make an absurd world seem logical. They put a stamp of approval on submission and the newbie falls in line.

"Jack," I said to my wimpy second in command. "How's Bubbles 12 doing?" Come on Jack. I snapped my fingers. I snapped again. She's number twelve. That's a full dozen. It isn't like we haven't done this before.

"Well," he said checking his clipboard.

I shook my head. Hurry, we're growing old dude.

He sensed my anger as he said, "Her heart rate's down. The computer visual monitoring says she's at 80% eyes glazed over. Give her another day and she'll be done. That's a record 72 hours. Of course ..."

I ignored him and looked at her showing off her leg to me. Gotta love the Bubbles series. Take a PhD botanist and bimbo-ize her with eye drops and a headset playing the Bubbles CD. Mmmm. The only sexier bimbo brainwashing package was the sexy librarian with her fuck me among the stacks of books bitchy bimbo behavior.

I remembered the one last week we made. She tried to spank me with a copy of the Sound and The Fury. Who wrote that anyway? Fuck. Who cared?

I saw the marshmallows on he ground. What is it with these bimbos and desserts, Jell-O and other junk? It was like they were searching for something.

"Oh, oh oh!" happily screamed inmate Madison clicking and clacking over to me in her heels. She was the hottest bimbo at the Asylum, but something made me weary of her. Shit. She's still running over here now. Normally she got distracted half way over and floated off among the other ditsy women. Today she seemed determined to get over here. I didn't need any of that. But at least the view was easy on the eyes.

God knows what goes on in her head.

CHAPTER 3: Madison (Chief Scientist and Committed Inmate Number 1)

"Vinnie!" I yelled, because you have to get a person's attention before you start talking to them and you can't start talking to them before you get their attention. So shit, how do I call out to them if I haven't started talking to them? But yet I need to get their attention and yet, I guess I'll just try to figure this out later, but I'll just say his name. Wait. What is his name again? "Vinnie!" I think I just yelled that out really loud, which of course means that I should start engaging in a conversation, which also probably doesn't need to be in the same loud voice that I'm using right now in my head.

Wow, have I been thinking all this in my head while talking to Vinnie at the same time? I don't even know what I was saying. Wow, I was still talking. Yeah, I'm still talking while I'm still thinking about whether or not I'm talking. How do I do that? At least I'm in a more conversational level of voice, but maybe I should stop thinking all this and focus on what it was that my mouth was rambling off because I have no notion what it was saying.

Maybe I should listen in.... Nope can't do it.

Wow, I felt my lips move so fast. Red lipstick. I started smacking my lips together several times. This lipstick had a texture to it. Hm, I wondered what they made it out of so that it holds its moist soft texture for so long. Must be liposomes, no wait that's a molecular bubble delivery mechanism for pharmaceutical drugs. No the newer lipsticks are using a polyethylene solidifier and a silicone oil. Why don't they just use a natural wax?

"Vinnie!" I yelled again for no reason other than to transition my mind back to something I can't remember anymore anyhow, because I really have no idea what I was talking about in the first or second or third place. Who's on third? That is an interesting question for some reason.

I stopped. Peace filled my silent head. I blinked. If I controlled my mind and stayed in the moment, each blink felt like slow motion and relaxed me and could stop the chatter.

Bliiiiiiiiiiiiiiink. Oh yes, silence. Because you know everyone needs a little silence and pure concentration because without it how can you think clearly? You'd be a stupid rambling bimbo idiot frolicking around attracting more stupid frolicking friends -- oh wait. Blink. Blink.

"Look Madison," said Vinnie.

He was so so so so so tall. I could bend my neck so so far back and look right up his nose. He's gotten a grey hair in there. I think I was starring at it. Yep, I was. He just felt self conscious and rubbed his nose and turned away -- the big lug.

"...laboratory equipment is getting in place," he finished.

And now I was left wondering if I should get him to say it all over again.

"Shit Maddie," said Vinnie, "you went bimbo while I said all that whole bit. Didn't you? Don't come here and ask about status if you're just going to..."

You know if I could create a key delivery mechanism to the melanocyte stem cells, greying hair could be cured with -- god I love my stockings. I went with the white meshy ones today because the smooth classic ones were just too popular now among the hipster bimbos in the northwest courtyard corner. I hated that crowd.

Vinnie waved his hands in front of my face. "Fuck this," he said. "She's sun downing again," he added before walking off.

I looked at the sky. Still sunshine. It's only mid afternoon. It's hard getting a world leading lab up and running when you bimboed your own mind to protect it from an employer who got you to make the Bot Dot bimbo formula in the first place.

Ooo, the new Bubbles bimbette is looking at me. Maybe I should go over and playfully smack her for some reason. Woman given the Bubbles Brainwashing always seem to like a good unexpected smack down and then they get all, "yes master, of course I'd love to lick your pussy."

My eyes narrow as I looked at Bubbles. Yeah, you know I'm look'in at you, bee-otch. I liked vulgarisms like that because they turn me on. I know they're rude though, so I only thought it. It had been a couple days since I had sex. I've been writing notes and making drawings and estimating cellular dissipation models for the simulator -- wait I saw that bitch Abigail. This time I mean bitch in a rude way, not playful. My nose cringes at her. Bimbos seem to cringe like cats like to hiss. She likes to be called Abie when she's all bimbo. She spells it weird with one b no y. Yep, she's on my list. I wonder why though? Who cares. She's a slut and I hate her. "Ssssssss, re-ow." I think I just hissed for real. I was world leading scientist and now I'm kitty girl. Just great.

I looked around. I was alone standing by the green door to security. I always ended up alone around here in the courtyard. I mean it's like I'm being shunned. I just don't understand it. I looked down at my flat exposed cute tummy. I could use a corset. It made me feel a tad bit more secure. Like Linus's blanket. I'm so thin and used to be so fat and short and now with heels and changes to my body I'm so tall now. Not Vinnie tall. Come on!. Six foot five. No way. Man did he have a Red Sea dick that parted my legs. The man hurt to mount.