The Incantation of the Bimbo

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Scarlet stomped up the stairs angry at having to come out on this beautiful late summer night to work on a preliminary paper that was only a basis of a paper she wouldn’t need to present until the spring. For Christ’s sake she thought to herself, it’s the first week of classes. Becoming angrier as she passed the volumes of books in an empty university library, she was mumbling curses about her quite handsome professor who had insisted she present something to him before the next class.

To make matters worse, the ancient cultures section was on the top floor of the equally feeling ancient library in a section that was the stuff of horror spoofs. Scarlet pulled a series of dusty books off the shelf and found a chair that was relatively comfortable and completely stain free. Despite its obvious age, it looked like no had ever sat in it. At least no one has had a choice to soil it with bodily fluids she thought critically.

Thumbing through volumes, Scarlet grew tired of taking notes and picked up the last volume. It was in a language she had never seen before as she leafed through the pages. The book was clearly aged and had an aura about it that made her turn the pages even more vigorously. There was a power emanating from the book. The more she struggled to read the alien language, the more Scarlet found herself drawn to it.

At page 422 Scarlet stopped skimming the book instantly. Something about the page caught her attention and forced her to try and decipher it. The page was blank save for a brief paragraph above a short poem. Incantation came immediately to Scarlet’s mind and snorted at the mere use of that word. It was ridiculous. Incantations and such nonsense.

As Scarlet ran her fingers over the page she begin to sound out the words that had a distinct air of Latin mixed with Gaelic phrases. As the words, which meanings escaped her, fell from her lips, Scarlet became more anxious to finish the phrases. As the last word was uttered with forced, a strange feeling began to envelop Scarlet.

She began to become antsy in her seat as she twisted moved erratically trying to cease the rapid warming sensations that began to flood her body. Her mind was invaded by a light grogginess that had the distinct impression of pink bubbles. Trying to shake her head clear of the nonsense, Scarlet grabbed the offending book and began to run towards the back stairwell that led to the scenic trail back to her dorm.

Scarlet only made it halfway down the first flight when the tingling sensation in her breasts erupted to an almost pleasure laced with pain. Her waist felt as if it was cinching tighter but her hips began to strain against her jeans. Scarlet’s head was being filled with more bubbles, yes, bubbles, that was the best way she could rationalize it.

Grasping the railing, Scarlet noticed that her hand was becoming slimmer, more delicate and it looked as though she had perfectly manicured nails protruding from what used to be nail bitten stubs. Suddenly, the tingling in Scarlet’s chest took precedence in her awareness and she felt her breasts swell popping the buttons on her shirt.

When she would have cried out, Scarlet let out a fit of giggles in a voice sounding happily pleased and laced with enjoyment. Running her hands through her hair trying to shake the oddness of the night away, Scarlet realized that her hair was longer that it had been before and pulling it to look at it, noticed that it was nearly platinum blonde in color.

Scarlet pulled herself up and frantically tried to get herself to the exit has quickly as possible. She was hindered by a new onset of clumsiness as she bolted towards her dorm room. When she could see her dorm in sight her panic begin to rise because her confusion and inherent desire for fun began to take over. She was literally seeing pink bubbles.

Firm hands clasped her shoulders halting her frantic movements. Looking up, she saw her professor with a slightly amused grin on his face.

“Professor Hart,” Scarlet stuttered. “Please help me!”

“I would miss, if I knew who I was talking to. I feel I am at a disadvantage, you know me, but I don’t know who you are.”

His voice was creamy and smooth and it drove her absolutely insane. Stomping her foot, Scarlet yelled at him, “Professor! It’s Scarlet!”

His smile widened. “You don’t look like Scarlet.”

She could feel her nostrils flare and he took out his camera phone and snapped a quick picture. Showing it to her nearly made her head spin.

The girl that used to be there was no more. The girl in the picture looked sensual, an exaggerated hour glass figure with curves to kill, the nearly hip long blonde hair cascaded in waves. Her legs were longer and more toned, the perfect legs for heels, even in the jeans that didn’t fit just right.

Maybe it was the look of hunger clearly visible on her teacher’s face, maybe it was seeing what she had become but Scarlet through her head back and let out a fit carefree giggles at just how ridiculous this had become.

When she had finally finished her giggling, Scarlet was filled with a light heartedness she hadn’t ever experienced. She was also very aroused, and couldn’t remember why she hadn’t kissed this very fine specimen of man in front of her yet.

Should I write more? Do the exploits of bimbo Scarlet sound amusing and fun to anyone? Let me know, maybe I need to alter the format. If I do write more, I promise there will be more bimbo added!сайтarabic escort dubai

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3 Responses

  1. TheGreenGoblin


    Sorry, before I play the irritated art critic I should mention just how long I’ve been intensely studying the Art of the Bimbo Story and heavily analyzing just what makes them make me…well…tick. Quite a while. I’ve read all the classics. Mr. Grey, Sympathetic Devil, Limerick, and even Fret Pearson’s occasional contribution.

    Now I’m going to berate you 1) for starting the tale of a transformation and not finishing it and 2) for all likelyhood, not being here to read my critique.

    Well then. Not much point to writing more then is there. Jolly good.

  2. Tom

    The worst part of this story is that it ends right s it is starting to get good. The professor needs to fuck this bimbo. She needs to try to revers the spell but due to her addled bimbo brain just makes things worse. SOMETHING. Please keep writing.

  3. Jab

    I agree with Tom, if it weren’t for the agonizing tease ate the end this would be perfect

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