Sunday evening in the quiet suburbs of Willow Springs, a group of young suburban moms gathered for their bi-weekly book club in Julie’s cozy living room.

They’d been meeting for a little over two years now, an escape from the monotony of their daily lives. It all started with their kids, who all went to the same middle school, and they hit it off right away. Now they were inseparable, a tight-knit group of friends who supported each other through thick and thin.

As they settled into their usual spots, the atmosphere was relaxed. They gossiped about their kid’s accomplishments, PTA meetings, and the latest neighborhood drama.

This week was Julie’s turn to select the book, and her choice had everyone buzzing.

When Julie revealed the title: “Bombshell: Unleashing your Inner Bimbo” – the whole room froze. Then came the gasps and the side-eye exchanges. It was clear this book was gonna shake things up.

Julie was the adventurous one in the group—never shying away from trying new things. Whether it was a new exotic cuisine or embarking on a spontaneous road trip, she had a knack for infusing excitement into their otherwise routine lives.

Wendy, on the other hand, always gravitated towards the familiar. She preferred what some might call the "safe" choices, finding comfort in routine and predictability. While she admired Julie's adventurous spirit, Wendy was completely content with the steady rhythm of her everyday life.

“I know it’s not our usual type of book, but I thought it might be fun to try something new,” Julie said.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “I’m not reading this trash. Pick something else.”

“Wendy, we’ve indulged in your selections plenty of times,” Julie snapped. “I didn’t complain about your historical dramas or predictable romance novels.”

“Yes, you did!”

“Okay, well, maybe—but I still read them. This book might be different but isn’t that the whole point? To explore new ideas.”

Wendy folded her arms across her chest in disapproval. “I don’t see how reading about ‘bimbos’ is going to broaden our minds.”

“I don’t know, sounds kind of interesting,” Lisa added.

Sara, as usual, stayed quiet.

Julie leaned forward, her tone firm but gentle. “It’s about being open-minded and willing to engage with different perspectives. Who knows? It might surprise you. I’ve already read the first third of it. It’s actually pretty fun.”

Wendy relented, though her skepticism still lingered. As the group settled back into their seats, they could all agree on one thing: this week’s book discussion would be anything but ordinary.

When Wendy returned home, she found her husband, Dan, in the living room, lounging on the couch watching TV.

"Check this out," Wendy said, waving the book in front of him.

Her husband glanced up. "What's that?"

"It's the book for our next book club meeting," Wendy replied, her frustration evident.

Her husband took the book from her hands and read the title aloud, an amused expression crossing his face.

"Can you believe it? Julie thinks it'll be 'fun' to switch things up."

Her husband chuckled, flipping through the pages. "Count me in for the next meeting."

Wendy scoffed. “Seriously, Dan?”

"I’m kidding. Besides, what’s wrong with letting loose a little? You’re a little tightly wound-up sometimes."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "You’re a real asshole sometimes.”

She stormed off to their bedroom and grabbed her phone to call Sara. She needed someone to vent to.

“Julie’s always trying to turn us into some “Sex in the City” squad,” Wendy complained. “We’re suburban moms, for crying out loud. I’m so over her attitude. Ever since her divorce she’s been acting different. It’s getting a little pathetic.”

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. It’s just a book,” Sara replied.

“It’s not just a book, it’s garbage. We’re not a bunch of vapid teenagers.”

As Wendy walked past her thirteen-year-old daughter in bed, she felt a surge of frustration. Gazing at her peacefully sleeping child, she was reminded of the world she wanted her to grow up in—one where women were celebrated as powerful leaders, valued for their intellect and accomplishments, not their sexuality.

That trashy book seemed to promote the opposite message. It baffled Wendy that Julie couldn’t see the harmful influence in a book like that.

Chapter One: The Call of the Bimbo

Wendy couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been gnawing at her since she first laid eyes on the glossy cover. As she settled into her cozy armchair, the weight of the book felt heavier than she’d anticipated.

Wendy cracked open the book, her eyes scanning through the introductory pages.

Embracing your inner bimbo is the ultimate form of empowerment.

Bimbos are the real feminists. After all, what’s more feminine than a bimbo.

The patriarchy doesn’t want you to feel pleasure.

Feel the pleasure of being a bimbo.

Fight the patriarchy by embracing your inner bimbo.

Use your curves and sexuality to teach men how to respect women.

Show them what women are capable of.

Show them what bimbos can do.

Wendy sighed—this wasn’t empowerment—it was thinly veiled sexism disguised as self-help. The author’s insistence on embracing one’s inner “bimbo” felt demeaning and patronizing, as if a woman’s worth could be reduced to her appearance and sexuality.

By the time she reached the end of the chapter, Wendy was simmering with rage. This book was an insult to everything feminism had worked so hard to achieve.

Wendy’s frustration peaked as she slammed the book shut—its glossy cover mocking her. She tossed it into the trash can where it belonged. It was hard to wrap her head around just why Julie would ever think such misogynistic nonsense would be appropriate for their book club.

The next day, Wendy’s irritation lingered, her mood sour as she settled behind her desk at work. Her mind remained fixated on yesterday’s events.

Wendy grabbed her phone: “can you meet for lunch?”

“Sure,” Sara replied.

Wendy placed an order for her favorite combo—soup and sandwich—at their usual lunch spot.

“I just don’t get why Julie would recommend something like this,” Wendy mused.

“This again?” asked Sara. “I’ve been reading some of it. The whole thing is very tongue-in-cheek. It’s supposed to be ridiculous. It’s satire.”

“…satire? It seemed pretty serious to me.”

“I thought so too at first, but then I looked it up. It’s written by a well-known feminist author. Like big-time feminist. Once you see it through that lens, you realize it’s supposed to be like a critique of how society views women. Honestly, you might even enjoy it. You know what they always say: don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Wendy thought for a moment. Had she somehow completely missed the mark?

Maybe it wasn’t a trashy self-help book aimed at vapid airheads but instead a scathing feminist critique on society.

Wendy grabbed the book out of the trash and decided to give it another chance, this time keeping the satirical nature in mind.

Chapter Two: Hidden Bimbo Desires / Chapter Three: Bimbo Basics

Wendy began the next chapter, Hidden Bimbo Desires.

Deep down all women harbor the secret desire to be a bimbo.

Society tells you to suppress these desires.

But that only leads to inner conflict and turmoil.

Women are only truly happy once they learn to embrace their inner bimbo.

Allow yourself to find true happiness.

Allow yourself to be a bimbo.

Wendy couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. She couldn’t believe that she actually thought this book had been a genuine endorsement of bimbo culture. Of course women didn’t secretly yearn to be bimbos. It seemed so obvious in retrospect.

“But did Julie realize it was satire?” she wondered. Wouldn’t she have said something if she did?

“What’re you reading there?” Dan asked. “That book again?”

“Apparently it’s satire.”

“Obviously.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Don’t pretend like you knew.” She turned to chapter three, Bimbo Basics, and continued reading.

Bimbos are basic. Bimbos are simple.

Bimbos are ditzy. Bimbos are sexy.

Bimbos are happy. Bimbos are horny.

Bimbos love makeup. Bimbos love shopping.

Bimbos love to look good.

Bimbos use their bodies to get what they want.

Feel the pleasure of being a bimbo.

After finishing, Wendy glanced over at her sleeping husband. It’d been over a month since they last made love.

“Babe, you awake?”

Dan grunted.

Wendy reached over and began rubbing his leg, moving her hand closer to his crotch.

“Tired,” he mumbled.

“C’mon. I bet I can wake you up pretty quick.”

“Later.”

Wendy sighed loudly.

Usually Dan was the one bugging her for late-night sex, not the other way around. She wondered if she should just go to bed. But Wendy was feeling particularly aroused. All the sex talk in that dumb bimbo book had somehow really gotten her worked up.

It’d been years since the last time she’d masturbated.

Wendy came twice.

Chapter Four: Bimbo Beauty Secrets

Wendy read another chapter during breakfast. Even though the book was clearly satire, she had to admit, there were some good pieces of advice sprinkled throughout.

Bimbos are beautiful. A bimbo’s appearance should always be perfect.

Bimbos wear outfits that attract attention. Bimbos wear clothes that show off their curves.

A bimbo’s makeup is always flawless.

Makeup isn’t about hiding your flaws, it’s about celebrating your radiance within.

Celebrate your inner bimbo.

Unleash the bimbo inside yourself.

For Wendy, makeup was only for special occasions. An excuse to get a bit dolled up. On normal days, her face was plain and bare, preferring a more natural look. But as she stared at her reflection in the mirror she wondered: why not?

It wasn’t a lot—a dash of mascara, a dab of blush. But as Wendy looked at the final result, she felt a warm satisfaction. She liked the way she looked.

Things at work had been challenging. Wendy’s new boss, Mr. Williams, was fresh out of an MBA program. At 27, he had the confidence of someone without much real-world business experience. His management style seemed to favor the youth. It was frustrating to see him replace experienced workers with bright-eyed college grads.

Despite only being 34, Wendy too felt the sting of his bias.

To make matters worse, his biases weren’t just limited to age, they veered into outright sexism. Wendy often found her ideas overlooked in favor of those put forward by younger male collages.

Wendy was tired of it all. She’d poured a decade of her life into the company but dealing with Mr. Williams was wearing her down. She couldn’t see herself putting up with this nonsense for much longer. It was time for a change.

Chapter Five: The Power of Femininity

After work, Wendy curled up on the couch with a cup of tea. The cover of ‘Bombshell’ stared back at her, its glossy surface reflecting off the living room lamp.

With a twinge of excitement, Wendy settled into the cushions and began to read, delving into a world of high heels and sex, where femininity reigned supreme, and intelligence took a backseat to arousal. Fleeting images of curvy bimbos flickered in her mind. She found herself lingering over certain passages, reading them over and over again.

Bimbos are the ultimate feminists. Bimbos are strong and empowered.

Bimbos embrace femininity. Celebrate your curves.

Feminism has been corrupted by prudes who don’t know how to have fun.

Beauty is so much more important than brains.

A woman's curvy body is one of her strongest assets.

Dress to impress. Show off your curvy body.

Show off your big bimbo boobs.

Be proud of your big bubble butt.

Show them what it means to be a woman.

Show them what it means to be a bimbo.

Wendy stared at the last sentence, feeling a strange energy hidden between the words.

“Show them what it means to be a bimbo.”

be a bimbo…

be a bimbo…

be a bimbo…

She’d always felt the need to dress modestly, feeling that women who flaunted their curves were never taken seriously. Sure, men wanted to have sex with them, but they never respected them. In their minds, they were reduced to a sexual plaything, existing only for their pleasure.

But perhaps Wendy had gotten it all wrong. What if feminism was about embracing your unique femininity? And what was more feminine than the curves of a woman’s body. Maybe that was what had always held her back in the office, trying too hard to be one of the men. Perhaps it was time to try something new.

Chapter Six: Bimbos in the Bedroom

The bedroom is the bimbo’s domain, there she rules supreme.

A bimbo loves to please. A bimbo loves pleasure.

Bimbos love to turn men on.

Bimbos love to get men off.

Bimbos love to suck cock.

Bimbos are selfless. Bimbos take care of others.

A man’s pleasure should be your top priority.

A healthy sex life is the most important part of a relationship.

A healthy sex life is the most important part of a friendship.

Sex is the most important part of life.

The best way to get pleasure by giving pleasure.

Feel the overwhelming pleasure of being a bimbo.

As she finished the chapter, Wendy closed her eyes and felt a rush of arousal wash over her. She thought about her own sex life. During the early years of their relationship, they used to make love at least once or twice a week.

Now, it was more like once every month or two, and even then, it often felt like a chore. Something she did out of duty rather than enjoyment. But now, filled with arousal, she headed to the bedroom to find her husband. She wasn’t going to let him fall asleep again tonight.

Dan laid in bed, in his pajamas, reading a book of his own. Something about submarines or whatever.

Wendy bit her lip as she sauntered towards the bedroom, her eyes locked onto his crotch.

“Why don’t you put that book away.”

“What’s that, hun?” Dan asked, without looking up.

Wendy crawled onto the bed. “I said, put that book down.”

“Not tonight. I’m too tired,” Dan said, returning to his book.

“Too tired?” Wendy asked. She crawled towards him and began rubbing between his legs.

“Sweetie, what did I t—”

She felt him growing hard from her touch.

“Why don’t you just sit back and relax,” Wendy purred. “Let me do all the work.”

Dan looked confused. “Alright…”

Wendy took her shirt off, throwing it across the room. She felt her husband’s eyes locked onto her chest.

“I thought you don’t like taking your shirt off anymore.”

“Dan, just please shut up.”

“Sorry.”

The moment had almost passed, but as Wendy looked back down at his big bulge, she felt another wave of arousal. She needed his cock. Slowly, she pulled his pajama pants down, freeing his erection. Wendy licked her lips in anticipation.

It’d been years since she’d last given a blowjob. It was never something she enjoyed, even when she was younger, reserving them only for birthdays. But now, she felt a certain thrill of excitement that she’d never felt before.

Wendy began stroking his cock, feeling the warmth between her fingers. It felt so nice. She glanced up at Dan, who was watching in amusement with a surprised look. She smiled and continued stroking.

“Look how big you are for me,” Wendy purred.

Sure, Dan was average at best, but the words just flowed from her lips, and she could tell he enjoyed it.

“How about you take that bra off?” Dan hesitantly asked.

Wendy felt a moment of annoyance, about to tell him that her breasts weren’t there for his amusement, but then a thought rushed through her head.

Bimbos embrace femininity, celebrate your curves.

Show off your big bimbo boobs.

Overcome with arousal, Wendy unhooked her bra, letting her breasts fall free. She’d gained an extra twenty-five pounds over the last year or two, a good portion of which had gone to her chest. While it was certainly preferable over her stomach, she’d always found it annoying when Dan clumsily pawed at her breasts like she was some kind of cow. Part of why she started keeping her shirt on during sex.

But Wendy couldn’t deny the thrill she felt from her husband staring at her breasts. Something about it turned her on. Her gaze was fixed on his cock, mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of her hand as it glided up and down. Too focused to think about the flood of new thoughts and feelings swirling inside her.

Wendy lowered her head and wrapped her lips around it.

“Oh wow,” Dan muttered.

It had a strangely pleasant taste. A sort of musky manliness. Feeling it push against her cheek was also oddly enjoyable. There was something uniquely exciting about having a cock in her mouth.

Wendy sucked and slurped, feeling turned on from her husband’s obvious enjoyment. She was also feeling incredibly aroused and began rubbing between her own thighs.

“I’m gonna cum,” grunted Dan.

No matter how aroused she was, Wendy would still never let him cum inside her mouth, and so she pulled him out and finished with her hand.

Wendy couldn’t stop smiling as she gazed at his exploding cum. His warm seed dripping onto her fingers. It was exciting and fun and almost made her forget about the frustration of her husband only lasting a minute.

As his erection shrunk, Wendy felt her mind break free from the hypnotic effect of her husband’s cock, and all at once her thoughts came rushing back to her.

She furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out what had just overcome her. What made her decide to give him a blowjob like that out of nowhere. It wasn’t even his birthday. She’d never liked giving blowjobs before. Yet she couldn’t deny, it had actually been an enjoyable experience.

As she went to the bathroom to clean up, Wendy wondered why.

Why had she just done that?

Her first thought went to that stupid book. Had she actually gotten turned on from reading that garbage? Sure, her brain knew it was satire, but her body didn’t.

But still, why would she ever feel aroused from something so degrading and demeaning. It didn’t make any sense.

When Wendy returned, Dan had already fallen asleep. She sighed.

Looks like it would have to be another night of self-pleasure.

Chapter Seven: Bimbo Business

The next morning, Wendy read another chapter as she waited for her husband to finish with the shower. It was perfect thing to read before work. The chapter discussed the art of using femininity and charm to navigate the business world and the importance of making your boss happy.

Though she obviously wasn’t a bimbo, Wendy learned by now that the feminist author had sprinkled bits of useful advice throughout. The trick was differentiating the ridiculous satire from the actually helpful tips.

A woman’s curvy body was one of her strongest assets, and for so long Wendy had been letting it go to waste. She decided to forego her usual women’s power suit for a colorful skirt and a V-neck that offered a hint of cleavage.

The outfit was from many years ago when she first entered the workforce. But when she quickly learned that clothes like that only invited men to constantly stare and admire, she hid it away in the closet and instead chose to hide her curvy body.

It almost didn’t fit anymore. The clothes were much tighter than they’d been when Wendy was younger, but they still looked good on her.

Her bra was tight too. She really needed to start dieting soon. All those extra calories just kept increasing her already sizable bust.

Nothing wrong with wearing a skirt in the office. Lots of women in the company wore outfits like these. Perhaps this was what Wendy was missing. The reason why she’d always been passed over from the promotions she deserved.

Dan had already left with their daughter, so Wendy took the opportunity to pleasure herself once more before heading to work. Seeing herself in such a stunning outfit had been an unexpected turn on.

As she strutted through the office, she felt self-conscious from all the staring and gawking.

Wendy held her head up high, trying to hide her nervousness. Yet a part of her realized it felt good to be admired. Looking good made her feel good.

That morning, Wendy found herself unusually popular, with a steady stream of visitors stopping by her office to ask trivial questions. It felt strange to be the center of attention for once.

Wendy had always looked down on Mr. Williams' bimbo secretary, Mandy, for dressing provocatively around the office. But now, she felt embarrassed at how harsh she’d been to the young woman. It was hard to deny the thrill and excitement of being admired. It made her feel valuable and important.

As Mr. Williams stepped into her office, Wendy's excitement faded. She hadn’t considered that dressing up meant that sexist pig would be ogling her too.

“Wow, Wendy. Looking good. I like it," he remarked.

“Thanks, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to comment on a woman’s appearance like that.”

A look of annoyance crossed Mr. Williams' face.

“Just a friendly compliment. No need to be rude about it,” he replied, before walking away.

Wendy couldn’t stop thinking about things after he left. She wondered if snapping at him had been necessary. So what if he was a sexist jerk? Was his comment really that bad? She enjoyed the compliments from others, so why had she been so rude to him.

Wendy remembered a passage from the chapter that morning, Bimbo Business.

Your boss is your leader, your superior.

Always show him the upmost respect.

Pleasing him is literally your job.

It’s important to do anything it takes to keep him satisfied.

Making your boss happy is your number one priority at work.

Feeling terrible about her unfriendly attitude, Wendy decided to apologize for her comment. She hesitantly knocked on the door to Mr. Williams’ office.

“Yeah?” he responded, his eyes fixed on his monitor.

“It’s me.”

“Ah, yes. Wendy. How can I help you? Don’t worry, I won’t compliment you again. Wouldn’t wanna make that mistake.”

Wendy felt embarrassed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. You’re right... I shouldn't have been so rude.”

Mr. Williams’ was taken aback by her comment. “I’m surprised to hear you admit that.”

Wendy felt herself becoming aroused. “It’s important to me that we have a good…relationship. I wanna do whatever it takes to keep you…satisfied.”

Mr. Williams seemed confused. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you need from me, just ask,” she replied, her voice slightly breathy.

“I see,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her body and pausing at her chest.

“I like the new outfit. It’s a good start.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“I never realized you had such a nice body under all those boring clothes.”

“…excuse me?” she meekly muttered.

Wendy couldn’t help but feel offended but tried not to show it. She knew better than to be rude to her superior. Not after the entire reason she came here was to apologize.

“I like this new attitude,” Mr. William smiled. “You have a lot of potential. Don’t let me down.”

“Of course, sir.”

As Wendy exited his office, she couldn't help but wonder: why was she feeling so turned on? Logically she knew his comments were inappropriate, but her body seemed to enjoy them.

Besides, he was her boss, her superior. It was her job to please, no matter what. She couldn’t allow herself to be disrespectful just because of a few slightly sexist comments. He only meant it as a compliment, saying she had a nice body.

What was the harm in that?

After work, Wendy went to her daughter’s school for her weekly PTA meeting. As she walked across the parking lot, she noticed Julie’s minivan. The engine was running.

“Oh perfect, Julie’s here.”

Wendy approached the minivan, but as she drew closer, her heart sank.

There Julie was, sitting inside with someone Wendy recognized as one of the teachers. But Julie looked…different.

She was wearing one of the most revealing outfits Wendy had ever seen. Her tight top was barely able to contain her ample chest. 

Wendy wondered if she was wearing some kind of a push-up bra, since breasts looked massive, practically overflowing from her low neckline, advertising a valley of cleavage.

She had a short miniskirt, barely covering her big bubble butt. Had Julie’s rear always been so big?

Wow…

Her fingers sported long fiery-red acrylic nails, and her makeup was flawlessly done.

But most shocking of all: Julie was giving the teacher a hand job, staring intently as she slid her hand up and down his shaft.

Wendy knocked on the window.

Julie turned to her, a vacant smile on her face.

The teacher quickly tried covering himself, but Julie kept stroking. He pushed her hand away, but she treated as a game, giggling and reaching for his cock again and again.

“JULIE!” Wendy yelled, knocking louder. The passenger's side door opened and the teacher fumbled with his pants, pulling them up, and quickly running off.

“No fun,” Julie giggled. “Hold on!”

Wendy stood there, arms crossed, with the look of a disapproving mother. She watched as Julie stepped out, nearly stumbling over in her tall five-inch stripper heels.

She must be drunk. Julie had mentioned that ever since the divorce she’d sometimes drink a whole bottle of wine at night.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Whatdya mean?” Julie asked.

Wendy looked around nervously. “Come on, we can’t let anyone see you like this. Follow me.”

“Okay.”

Julie looked like a baby deer walking for the first time in her tall heels, clumsily stumbling with each step.

Wendy held onto her arm for stability, trying to move as quickly as possible back to her SUV.

“What is wrong with you?” Wendy asked, once they were finally in the car.

“I dunno...”

“I know you’re single now, and what you do is your business. But seriously, in the school parking lot? Have you no shame? What if someone other than me saw you. You could get in serious trouble, you know."

“It just seemed kinda fun,” Julie shrugged.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Jeez, Julie. Save it for the bedroom. Show some decency.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s for sure. How much wine have you had?”

“Wine?”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on. I’ll take you home. You can sober up there.”

“Are you mad at me?” Julie asked, looking sad.

Wendy sighed. “Listen. I know things have been tough with the divorce and everything. I’m sure it can’t be easy. But you can’t do stuff like this. You’re gonna be so embarrassed when you sober up.”

“I guess,” Julie said, her lip quivering.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I care about you, that’s all. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I want another husband, Wendy. I need someone to take care of me. I’m so horny lately.”

“Ugh, Julie. You don’t need a man…but I get what you mean. I’m sure you’ll find someone soon.”

“You think?”

“Of course. Let’s go home.”

Wendy took Julie inside, making sure the coast was clear of any nosy neighbors. She chatted with her friend, doing her best to cheer her up.

After a while, she glanced at the clock.

“I need to go pick up Charlotte from my parents’ house. You…stay here. Make yourself at home.”

“Where’s Dan?” Julie asked.

“He’s out with a friend, I think, won’t be back til later. I’ll only be gone a bit. Don’t leave.”

As Wendy walked out to the car, a sense of unease crept over her. Should she really be leaving Julie alone at a time like this?

“It’ll be fine,” Wendy assured herself.

What could go wrong?