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My name is Raquel.

I'm 20 years old.

I have an IQ of 157.

I had my associates degree by the time I was 18.

By 19, I was making more than 20 thousand a month, designing high profile web pages.

For the past 8 or 9 months, I haven't been able to stop acting and dressing like I'm some kind of brainless bimbo. If you saw me at the mall or the movie theater, you'd probably think I wouldn't be able to string two sentences together.

Week by week ... It feels like I'm becoming more and more of a brazen harlot. I no longer own even 1 pair of panties. None of my shoes have heels that are less than 6 inches high. Last week, a sales girl tried to show me a pair of stripper spikes with 1.5 inch platforms. I simply faked a yawn and then told her that anything that thin is for wimpy little grade school girls.

As strange as this may sound, I think it's my husband's cum that's causing me to be this way. His sperm tastes much too good to me. Almost like it's a drug of some kind. Starting about fifteen months ago, I've been swallowing his essence at least three times a day.

I always make sure to milk Anthony dry before he leaves for work. By the time he returns home, I'm craving another dose of his delicious cum. Then I've always got to have my late night snack before we curl up together and go to sleep.

On the weekends, I can easily drain the man five or six times a day. I'm starting to wonder if I should ask my Beloved if he has a friend who might need a bit of servicing. I don't know if the other guy would taste anywhere near as delicious as Anthony, but I'm really starting to feel like I need more sugar cream frosting than one donor can supply.

With his semen tasting this lip licking delicious, it's easy to understand why I've literally become the man's private little whore. You'd think this sexual obsession might be affecting my work. Slowing me down somehow. Making me sloppy. You'd be totally wrong.

Wearing my hourglass corset and sky high heels. Plucking my eyebrows. Putting on false lashes. Painting my nails. Servicing my husband several times a day. It all seems to leave me a lot more focused. I'm spending 30% less time in front of the computer but the volume and quality of my output has gone straight through the roof.

How good am I doing at my job? I've been in the hospital for almost four days and I'm still two weeks ahead of where I need to be.

My only current problem is that my mother's called at least dozen times. Anthony should never have let her know he brought me here. There's nothing serious going on, I'm simply feeling a bit tired. Maybe I need vitamins or something. But Mom's already certain that her only daughter is suffering from at least three different fatal diseases and probably has less than a month to live.

"I've had a nice long talk with the doctors," Anthony says, as he sits by the bedside and adoringly squeezes my left hand. "And we think we've got a handle on your exhaustion."

I could so do this man right now. Just invite my gorgeous husband to join me on this bed. Undo his pants and start licking on his magnificent balls. I might even ask that lovely red headed nurse to join us. The past couple of months, I've started noticing how delectable a woman can be. The other night, I actually kissed and groped our lovely waitress when we were having dinner at High Heels & Hot Wings.

"You've evidently had a benign tumor, in the back of your head, for several years," Anthony continues, using a very loving and sensual voice. "The Doctors are telling me that it probably sprang up somewhere around the age of 10. Since then, the little monster has been growing very slowly. During the past couple of years, it's gotten large enough to start putting intense pressure on the creative center of your brain. Your imagination and your sex drive have zoomed right up to the clouds but this is preventing you from getting more than three hours of sleep a night."

I knew it. This whole trip to the hospital wasn't just Anthony being concerned about me having a bit of insomnia. My man brought me here because he wants me to have a third breast enlargement. Even after my second one, I just didn't feel like the girls were big enough. I'm so happy my guy is finally understanding that.

I had my first boob job a month after turning 18. 500cc per side and that pushed me all the way up to a Baby D. 3 months later, the Doctor began pumping in another 50cc per week till I was quickly 750 and a very generous EE.

My second surgery was a little less than a year ago, about 6 weeks after we got back from our honeymoon. Anthony pretended to resist the idea, but I could tell he saw things the same way that I did. The shape of my legs and the curve of my ass ... This body was screaming to have two massive globes on its chest. I knew I needed to jump up to at least 1250 per side. A few months after that, the Doctor could begin to gradually add more fluid in till each one was a full 2000cc per side.

A couple of months ago, I started realizing that these 2 liter J cups weren't nearly large enough. They just don't seem to properly complement my 5 feet and 4 inch frame. I can't really explain what would look right. All I can say is "I'll know it when I see it".

If I had 3 liters of silicone in each breast, with any luck, my bust might make it all the way up to a 32-M. At this point, the weight of each breast would be 6.6 pounds. That would mean that I'd be something like 125 and my implants would be at least 13 of that. I can almost cream, just thinking about this. I'll be so top heavy that I'll have to adjust the way I hold my spine so that I don't fall forward. I've seen pictures of large breasted fetish models who have to stand that way. They look so totally fucking beautiful.

Being halfway through the alphabet ... Having my big fake tits be more than 10% of my body weight ... All of it sounds insanely fantastic!

"The specialist is flying in 48 hours from now," Anthony says. "We have the surgery scheduled for the following afternoon."

Of course, they'd need a specialist for installing something that large. What's impressive is that Anthony has managed to have the new implants available so quickly. Anything over one liter has to be a custom order. He must have been planning this for at least a couple of months.

I Totally Adore My Husband!

"Do you understand what I'm saying to you?" Anthony lovingly asks as he gently squeezes my hand.

"Yes, Darling!" I blissfully reply. "I'm having surgery in a couple of days and then everything will be all better."

And as long as we're doing the breasts, I probably should get silicone gel pads inserted in my lips. The collagen injections just haven't been making them plump enough. I really need them very sculpted. Incredibly doll like.

This morning ... I did it.

I actually fucking did it!

I went down to the courthouse and legally changed my name to Bimbo. I mean, I'm always wearing a leather collar that tells people I'm a Bimbo. Why shouldn't that be the name on my ID card?

I thought the Judge might give me a bit of hassle about this. The woman simply looked at me and grinned and said "Of course you are."

Anthony drove me downtown himself. He was so incredibly happy to do this for me. Everything has been so wonderful between us since I spent that week in the hospital. My entire life is so amazingly perfect in every way.

When was that last breast augmentation? 2 years ago? 3 years ago?

I sometimes wish I could be more certain about all the great things that have been happening. Ever since I opened my eyes and saw my massive fake tits, my life has been sort of a blur. I can remember the significant moments. Having my clit pierced. Having my nipples pierced. The weekend that I spent having the eyebrows and pussy hair lasered off. But I couldn't really tell you what month or year any of it occurred. Its all been one magnificent mind fuck and I haven't really had the time to pay attention to most of the little details.

I'd been slightly worried that the eyebrow thing might be going a bit too far. But Anthony really loves the way I look now. I think he gets off, watching me in front of the mirror. I can see him grinning as I use makeup to paint on faux brows, about half an inch higher than the real ones would have been.

My most favorite memory is the afternoon I met Anthony at the front door when he came home from the office. I was wearing a brand new private school girl outfit and I handed him a thin stainless steel leash. The silvery chain lead right to my knees and then straight up my short pleated skirt. When hubby raised the hem, he could see the hook attached to the one inch steel loop at the top of my newest clit stud. And three inches above that was a deep red and black tattoo that said "Anthony's Fuck Doll".

That was when my darling husband finally started to realize that I'd set aside any morals or standards that might get in the way of being totally pleasing for him. After that, everything started falling into place very quickly. We do a threesome, with another girl, at least twice a week. The other day, I went out and found two lovely bitches for us to spend the evening with.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have believed that pussy juice could taste almost as good as Anthony's cum. Now I can't seem to get enough. My man loves to watch me go down on another girl ... My hands tied behind my back ... Having to use only my lips and tongue to get the job done. After I've put on this show for him, I barely kiss the head of Anthony's cock and he's already spurting his cream between my massive fake lips.

And my work output has been insane. In the past three months, I've raked in almost 200 grand. Companies are even calling me from places like China and New Zealand, wanting me to do web page design for them. I barely get any sleep at all but it doesn't seem to matter any more. I appear to have developed into a 24 / 7 sex and creativity machine.

This little girl may have actually proven that a shameless slut can have it all.

Yay Bimbo !!!

"Have the doctors been able to give you any useful information?" Anthony's mother in law says to him, as they stand beside the hospital bed.

"Not really, Grace." The man sighs. "Your daughter's been examined by more than a dozen specialists from at least nine clinics or medical centers. Every one of them tells me the same thing. The surgery went according to plan two months ago. The tumor's completely gone and there's no sign that it caused any form of permanent damage to any part of her brain. But even though there's nothing medically wrong with our girl, something about Raquel simply refuses to allow her to come out of dream land."