Let them dress you in whatever they think is best, embracing your new bimbo mindset fully.

https://imgur.com/a/EmWsglB

Standing nearly naked in the dressing room, you beam at Olivia and Clara with unabashed enthusiasm. Your acrylic nails tap against your bare thigh as they survey you like a canvas waiting to be adorned.

"Let's start with these," Olivia declares, holding up a matching set of hot pink lingerie. The bra is mostly transparent mesh with strategic opaque panels barely covering the nipples, while the thong is little more than decorative strings.

"Omigod, it's so pretty!" you squeal, reaching for it. Your long nails make handling the delicate fabric awkward, and Clara steps in to help.

"Arms up," she instructs, fastening the bra around you. The cups push your breasts together and upward, creating cleavage you didn't know was possible with your B-cups.

"Look at that! Perfect little fuck-me tits," Clara appraises, adjusting the straps to maximize the effect. "The push-up is working wonders."

You giggle at her blunt assessment, a warm glow spreading through you at the validation. You turn to examine yourself in the mirror, running your hands over the enhanced curve of your breasts.

"Now these," Olivia hands Clara the matching thong. Clara kneels before you, holding it open.

"Step in, sweetie."

You obey without hesitation, placing your hands on her shoulders for balance as she slides the thong up your legs. The fabric settles between your ass cheeks, leaving them fully exposed.

"David's going to lose his mind," Clara says with satisfaction, adjusting the waistband to sit low on your hips.

"Speaking of David," Olivia calls over her shoulder, "we're ready for the fashion show if you want to come in."

The dressing room door opens wider, and David strolls in as if it's perfectly normal to watch a woman he supposedly just met being dressed like a doll. His eyes darken appreciatively as he takes in your nearly naked form.

"Now that's more like it," he says, settling onto a plush ottoman in the corner of the spacious dressing room. "Let's see what else you've got."

For the next thirty minutes, you become a living mannequin. Olivia and Clara parade you through dozens of outfits while David watches, offering approving nods or dismissive gestures. Your new bimbo brain thrills at each approving look, your body responding with flush of arousal every time he leans forward with interest.

They dress you in a succession of tiny skirts that barely cover your ass, crop tops that expose your midriff, and bodycon dresses that cling to every curve. Everything is bright, tight, or transparent—often all three.

"This is definitely coming home with us," David declares when you emerge in a white latex mini-dress so tight you can barely breathe. It pushes your breasts up like an offering and ends just below the curve of your ass.

"Perfect for Pulse tonight," Clara agrees, circling you. "We'll need to get her some proper heels too."

"Already handled," Olivia says, emerging with a shoebox. Inside are clear platform stilettos with six-inch heels. "These will make those legs look endless."

You wobble as you step into them, your center of gravity shifting dramatically. Clara steadies you with a hand on your waist.

"You'll get used to them," she assures you. "Every girl does."

By the time the impromptu fashion show concludes, a mountain of clothing sits on the counter—all approved by David. You find yourself dressed in the most conservative of the selections: a tiny pink tennis skirt that flares out when you twirl, paired with a white crop top emblazoned with "DADDY'S GIRL" in glittering pink letters. The outfit leaves several inches of your midriff exposed and makes you look like a parody of a schoolgirl fantasy.

Your phone chimes as Olivia rings up the purchases.

"Shopping Spree complete! 300 Babe Bucks earned! Double Babe Bucks bonus applied! You're such a good little spender!" Becky's voice coos in your ear alone.

You beam with pride, twirling in your new outfit. Your reflection shows a stranger—platinum blonde, heavily made up, dressed like a fantasy—but your bimbo brain registers only satisfaction at how pretty and desirable you look.

"Now," David says, sliding his credit card across the counter, "let's see if we can put all this to good use at Pulse tonight."

18:15 | Saturday 2 Aug 2025 | Putney, London