From Brainiac To Bimbo

A bimbofication story!  This was an interesting one.

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(Sorry for posting later than usual folks--traveling today!)

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 You sigh as you walk home, and absentmindedly kick a rock on the sidewalk.  Just another /lovely/ day at the office.  And you’ll have to do it all again tomorrow. . . Joy.
You’re nobody special.  In fact, you’re pretty stereotypical when it comes down to it, honestly: male, chubby, depressed.  And that realization makes you /more/ depressed, of course, but hey, what can you do?
You’re currently wearing your regular gray hoodie, jeans, and black sneakers.  Glasses rest on your face, covering your green eyes, and your brown hair combs over them, reminding you how badly you need a haircut, and just how much you’ve been putting it off.
You work the regular 9-to-5 at an IT job, as a programmer.  When it comes down to it, you’re pretty dang smart, but the job’s pretty shitty.  And today was /especially/ shitty.
You sigh as you walk home.  Like usual, your mind’s running a mile a minute, reacting to every damn thing that’s happened to you today.
/I gotta check up on Dave’s code tomorrow morning. . . His Java knowledge isn’t the best, so I’m sure it’ll be fine, but it’s still my job to make sure he’s doing alright./
/God, today sucked.  I can’t believe the boss yelled at me over a simple computer error.  Mistakes happen!/
/Well, you’re a piece of shit, so.  You deserved it./
Another sigh escapes your mouth, and you trudge on, coding problems and self-deprecating thoughts running through your head in equal measure.
And that’s when you run into them.
“Hey!  Like, hey!”
You glance up from the sidewalk—your gaze usually drifts there on your walk home—and are surprised to see three ladies in front of you.  They’re all blonde-haired, and basically look exactly the same, save for the different colored lipstick they’re all wearing.
“Hey you,” says the one with the yellow lipstick, her voice revealing she was the one who called out to you.  “Like . . . hey.”
“Hey?” you say back, feeling rather confused about this whole situation.  “Did you need something?”
“Not us,” says the one with blue lipstick.  “Like . . . you.  You need . . . help.”
“Help?” you ask.
“Yeah, says the one with the green lipstick.  “You look, like, down.”
“Like, so down,” says Yellow.
“/Hella/ down,” adds Blue.
“Which is super sad,” says Green, frowning.  “/Super/ sad.”
“Yeah, I get it,” you say impatiently, trying to push past them.  “Now, if you excuse me, I really need to get home, ok?”
“But wait!” calls Blue, shouting with such insistence that you stop pushing and look over at her.  She grins goofily.  “We can make you /happy/, though.”
“Yeah,” says Green.  “We have, like, a /thing/ for you, ok?  Promise.”
You sigh.  “I’m really not looking for companionship tonight, sorry.”
“Why would you?” Yellow asks innocently.  There’s a short pause, and then she says, “Well, like we were saying, like, we have /the/ thing, ok?”
“The solution to, like, sadness,” says Blue.
“The.  Best.  Thing,” Green adds.
You have to admit you’re a little curious.  “What is it?” you ask.
All three ladies smile at the same time.  Then one of them—Blue—reaches into their huge purse, and pulls out something . . . unexpected.
It’s a pair of high heeled platform shoes, bright pink in color.  They’re pretty big too, and /extremely/ tall—how could anybody walk in those heels without falling?  Four straps rest on the top area, for the legs, and another simple strap rests on the bottom, for your toes.
“Uh. . .”  You blink, then blink again.  Yeah, these ladies just tried to cure your depression with shoes.  “Is this a joke?”
“No.  Joke!” squeaks Blue.  “This is /the/ thing, ok?”
“The real deal,” says Green.  “It’ll make you just like us.”
You frown.  “Just like you?”
“Yeah!” chirps Yellow.  “Just.  Like. Usssss.”  She grins, and giggles.
“Why would I want to be like you?” you ask, confused.  You start to turn around.  “Look, I should get out of here. . .”
“But wait!”  Blue puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you back—she’s surprisingly strong, and you’re yanked back into the ladies’ orbit immediately.  “Listen,” she says to you.  “Once you, like put on /these/ shoes,” things /change/.”
“Everything,” whispers Yellow.
“You become, like, /the/ most popular gal ever,” says Green, grinning.  “And you turn pretty, just like us.”
Pretty like them, huh?  Your low self-esteem does seem to want for you to lose weight—maybe that’ll be a good thing.
“/And/ you get to wear sexy clothes,” adds Yellow.  “Instead of that ugly rag you got on.”
At first you’re defensive, but then, you look down at your gray hoodie.  When /was/ the last time you wore something different?  Maybe you do need a change. . .
“And the guys stare at you /all/ the time,” adds Blue.  She winks at you.  “Trust me.  It’s, like, the most bestest thing in the /world/.”
You blush at the thought.  When’s the last time /anybody/ gave you any attention?  That sounds like a desirable thing, honestly.  The more you listen to them, the better and better this really sounds.
That’s when you hear it.
Somebody calls your name.  You jump at the sound, glancing around, and the women giggle.  “Ooo, it’s starting!” Blue whispers.  Your name is called again, and that’s when you realize: it’s coming from the /shoes/.
/Can you hear me?/ a new voice speaks into your mind, the sound calm and even-toned.
“Uh . . . I think so,” you reply.  “What the fuck is going on?”
/What’s going on is that I’m here to make you happy/ the shoes reply.  /Once you wear me, I promise all of your problems will go away.  And everything will be simple, happy, and pink./
The pink you’re not so sure about, but simple and happy?  That does sound like a really nice time. . .
Hang on a minute.  This feels wrong.  You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?  How can you really justify yourself actually doing this?
Then again, what the hell.  What do you have to lose?
“Ok,” you say, hardly believing you’re really following through with this.  “I’ll try on one of those shoes, I guess?”
The women all cheer, and Blue holds the pair out to you, giggling.  “Like, have fun or whatever,” she says, a smile on her face.
/Ok?/ you think.  You unlace one of your sneakers and take off your sock, balling it up and placing it inside the shoe.  Then you reach over and take one of the high heels.
“Go!” says Yellow.  “You /so/ got this!”
It’s not as heavy as it looks, thank goodness, and you bring it downward.  Moving aside the four top straps, you slip the shoe onto your foot, inch by inch, bit by bit.  Until, finally, the entire thing is on your foot.
It’s kinda awkward, standing with one high-heeled leg, and one sneakered leg.  But you somehow manage it.  And as you stand there, you feel a strange tingling passing through your body . . . and then you, like, start to transform.
You hair goes from brown to blonde and sinks lower in the back, getting very long.  Your skin goes from pale to tanned.  Your hoodie arms curl upward, and then the clothing transforms into a gray dress, open at the front.  The clothing transformation travels down the hoodie, lengthening it.
/Like, what is going on?/ you think, staring at yourself.  /Wait, hold up.  Did I just say “like”?  And did I, like, just say “hold up”?/
You’re, like, totally changing.  Your sweater grows super long or whatever, until it touches your knees.  And omigosh!  The arms of your sweater are completely, totally gone and stuff!  Did you totally even notice that?  And the front of the sweater changes too and stuff: it becomes a fancy, like, cool dress, which is great for your open chest.  Oh yeah, and your dress, it’s, like, pink, ok?  Did I mention that it’s PINK?!  Because it is /so/ pink and cuuuute~!
“OMG!  I think it’s, like, starting, guys!” exclaims Green, grinning wide.
Forget about this, you need to get home!  So that tomorrow you can go in and, like, code?  And help Dave with the . . . Javvy?  Javo?  What was that again?  And what’s, like, coding?
As you look into your mind for knowledge, you can feel it fading away, getting further and further out of your reach with every passing second.  You can’t even remember how to, like, code and stuff right now.  What even /is/ Java?  Other than, like, the coffee?  Because java coffee is /totally/ the best thing /ever/. . .
You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it.  ‘Yessss!” says Yellow, giggling.  “She’s totally changing, you guys!  This is the greatest day of my /life/!”   Wait. . . Did Yellow just call you “she”?  “This is going to be /so/ great you guys, I can totally tell, ok?  She’s going to be /amazing/ as one of us.”
That’s when you feel something, deep down in your loins.  First, your boxers shift and change and stuff, warping and not even being, like, boxers anymore and stuff.  You feel them become lacy, like, underwear, like the stuff girls wear.  
And is it just you, because your dick /totally/ feels smaller, doesn’t it? Your balls also, like, are shrinking, and your dick tucks itself down into your skin, where some kind of hole is forming or something.  Which is totally awesome though, right?  Because you can totally find some hot-ass hunks and get laid now with your awesome new vagina.  Won’t that be, like, hella totally rad?
You’re blushing as you realize that you’ve always felt self-conscious about the size of your manhood—you could never really get laid with a dick that size.  So honestly, like, maybe this is the awesomest thing that could ever happen to you?  You’re gonna get /so/ much sex now with this sweet thing, and it’s gonna be so awesome, m’kay?
And then, you feel your butt, like, swelling?  Your ass is totally getting bigger, omigosh.  And your hips curve inward, extenuating your figure even more than before.  You look, like, /hella/ good, gurl.
Forget programming.  When’s the last time you went, like, shopping?  Or did . . . anything fun /ever/?  You should totally go to the mall and party it up, girl.  You can get some makeup and new clothes, and it’ll be, like, totally rad.  And you can find some cute guys, too. . .
You blink.  What was that?  This isn’t right at all.  This isn’t like, you!  But it’s /so/ kinda nice to be chill and not have to worry about complicated stuff.  Because, like, life is simple when you think like this, isn’t it?
/It’s like I said, I can make things simple./  The voice of shoes sounds again, and you glance at the high heel on your foot.  /I can make life uncomplicated and easy/, the shoes says.  /Just put your faith in me, and it will be done./
You look from the platform shoe on your foot, to the one that Blue is still holding.  There’s a part of you that doesn’t want to do it, that realizes you can still go back, that it doesn’t have to be like this.
But you don’t, like, /want/ to go back to your old ways of life, do you?  Things can be /so/ simple and fun!  You just have to let them be, girl.  Ok?
Um, like, /no/!  You’re a smart guy, smart enough that you know that once you put on that other shoe, you’ll be gone forever and there’s no going back.  And how can you even /think/ about doing this?  How can you cast away your smartness and manliness and become something so . . . opposite?  Feminine and sexy, air-headed and dumb?  That’s not you . . . is it?
Sure it’s not, like, you, ok?  But it’s totally something you /could/ be, ‘k girl?  You can be a new person, a real, like, mall rat or something, with cool clothes and nice makeup and all the stuff that girls like.
And do you know, like, the best part?  The best part is that you totally don’t have to think about anything anymore because you’ll be totally drifting away into happiness or something!  You’ll be so caught up with living that you’ll be, like, different and stuff!  Don’t you want to not be, like, totally super depressed anymore?  Doesn’t that sound super nice.
You want that life.  And so, you strengthen your resolve, and reach down, taking off your other shoe and sock.  Then you grab the second high heel, and shove it onto your foot.
“Yasss!” shouts Green, letting out a happy, high-pitched squeal.  “Get it, girl!”
“Be, like, one of us!” says Yellow.
“It’s gonna be so totally /great/,” adds Blue, grinning goofily.  “Can’t wait.”
As the shoe goes onto your foot, you can feel your memories, like, fading and stuff?  You were totally thinking about work before and what you were supposed to do with what’s-his-name, but that thought totally disappears in, like, a second?  And then everything else starts to fade too.  You can feel everything about your workplace disappear from your mind, and once your foot is completely inside the shoe, the rest of your memory starts to, like, go away and stuff.  
You blink, and you can’t remember your friends.  You blink again, and you can’t remember college.  You blink again, and you can’t remember anything about your past or who you really are at all.  It’s, like, the coolest thing ever, basically.  Because your head feels light and bubbly and free, and it’s /totally/ the best.  It’s /super/ nice not to think about all that boring, tedious stuff—now you can just think about clothes and shopping and whatever?  Isn’t that great?  You can just, like, live in the moment.  And speaking of the moment. . .
Now that the shoe is completely on you, the rest of your body starts to change.  You can feel your jeans, like, thinning or something?  Thin-en-ing?  Anyway, so your jeans, like the fabric and stuff, gets thinner every single second, and soon they’re not jeans anymore.  They’re, like, leggings now, clinging to your, uh, legs.
You feel your dick tremble and shake, and then, like, it shrinks into you, and it’s soon totally gone and stuff.  Then your balls do the exact same thing—like, they’re /escaping/, ok?  And in their place, your new vagina grows in between your legs, a welcoming presence that makes you feel /so/ warm and fuzzy.  Now you can, like, get /all/ the dick, ok?  It’s going to be the best, most awesomest thing ever, girl.  Trust me.
And your chest, that changes too.  You can feel something, like, growing on your chest, swelling outward, and you realize it’s boobies.  You get new boobies, and they totally tuck themselves underneath your dress, fitting in /so/ nice and cozy there.
Then your butt sticks out even more, becoming bigger and hotter—every guy’s going to want that sweet ass, m’kay?  Trust me.  And your hips get curvier than they were before, and you feel the chubbiness on your body, like, sinking into your skin.  Apparently these shoes, like, cure weight gain or something?  Because soon your chubby body is gone, and it’s replaced by a totally sexy one.
Your hairy hands also transform and stuff.  The hair, like, shrinks into your skin?  And then your thick, square fingers morph and change too!  They do that until they’re like, thin and long.  And then your nails, which were bitten down and gross before (sorry girl, but it’s the truth, m’kay?) become nice and neat and super, super long.  As the finishing touch, pink polish appears on your nails, caking them starting from the bottom (that’s, like, the part nearer to your finger?  In case you didn’t know that, girl) and going up to the nails’ tops. . . Or is it, like, the nail /tips/?  Either way, you have this super hot pink nail polish now, and it looks cute as /hell/, I swear to god.
And you feel something forming on your face, dressing you up.  So like, it’s makeup, ok?  And like a dressup makeover thing?  It gets on your face: eyeliner is painted on; your eyelashes get longer and curlier and /cuter/; foundation cakes itself on your cheeks and spreads throughout your face; and pink lipstick smears itself onto your lips.
After that, like, the change is done. It’s complete now, and you’re, like, totally changed as a person or something.  You look over at Blue, Yellow, and Green, as if seeing them for, like, the first time.
“Alright!”  Blue leans forward.  “Like, say something, girl.”
You blink.  Then you say, “Um, so, that was, like, really something.  Thanks?”
“For sure!” says Green.
“We’re glad you, like, liked it,” says Yellow.
“Now we totally need to find someone else to help, ok?” Green tells you.  “So we can spread this, and, like, make people happy.”
“Totally,” you say.  “We gotta, like, spread this stuff around.  It’s the best—my head feels so light and stuff!”
“OMG, I felt the same way!” exclaims Yellow, laughing.  “We’re totally twinsies, aren’t we?  We felt the exact same!”
“/Totally/ twinsies,” you reply, grinning goofily.  “Well, what are we waiting for?  Let’s, like, /go/, ok?”
“Yeah!” all three ladies reply at once.
“Let’s go,” says Blue, holding up her huge purse.  “I got /so/ many shoes, we gotta share them.”
She walks off, and the other two follow.  You walk with them, looking for someone new.
You don’t remember any of your life before this.  You’re not sure you even truly /lived/ before this.
All you know is that you want some shoes and makeup, like, /stat/.  Maybe after you help someone else, you can bring the idea up to the others.