The robe is gone. I don't know where it went. Maybe I took it off. Maybe it fell off. My boobies are too big for it anyway. They kept pushing it open and then it was just hanging off my shoulders doing nothing and clothes that do nothing are silly.

Clothes are silly.

I giggle. My tits bounce when I giggle and I can feel them and that makes me giggle more and then they bounce more and it's like this loop that just keeps going and going and I'm standing in the hallway naked and giggling and bouncing and I don't know where I'm going but my feet know.

My feet are smarter than me right now.

That's so funny.

Something is pulling me. Not a hand. Not a rope. Just this feeling in my tummy. Like a string tied to the inside of my belly button that's tugging me forward. Down the hall. Past the pink bedroom. Past the kitchen where Gavin made me— where I sucked— where I was on my knees and—

My pussy throbs.

Keep walking.

Past the library where all the books I can't read live. Past a room with a big TV. Past another room with a bathtub I can see through the open door and I almost go in because baths are warm and warm is nice but the string keeps pulling.

I need to be somewhere.

I don't know where. But I need to be there. It's important. The most important thing. More important than cumming. Almost. Nothing is more important than cumming. But this is close.

I turn a corner and there's a door. Dark wood. Heavy looking. And I know this door. My body knows it. My pussy clenches when I see it and my nipples get harder and my mouth starts watering and I know that behind this door is—

I push it open.

It's an office. Big desk. Leather chair. Bookshelves. A lamp that makes everything golden and warm. Papers everywhere. And behind the desk, in the big leather chair, is—

Him.

My whole body goes liquid.

He's reading something. Red pen in his hand. Glasses on. His sleeves are rolled up and I can see his forearms and the way the muscles move when he writes and his jaw is sharp and his eyes are dark and the silver at his temples catches the lamplight and I—

I can't breathe.

I know him. I know him so deep it's not even a thought. It's in my bones. In my pussy. In the warm pink nothing where my brain used to be. He's the most important person in the world. He's the center of everything.

He hasn't looked up yet.

There's a sound. Wet. Sloppy. Coming from the corner of the office.

I look.

Kiki is on her knees. Gavin is sitting in a chair against the wall with his legs spread and Kiki's head is bobbing in his lap. Her pigtails are wrapped around his fists and she's making those happy little gurgling sounds and drool is running down her chin onto her tits and she looks so pretty.

I almost go over there. My mouth waters watching her. I want to suck something too. The thirst is right there, warm in my throat.

But the string in my tummy pulls tighter. Toward the desk. Toward him.

"Gavin." His voice. Low. Rumbly. It rolls through me like thunder and my knees go weak. "Take your slut somewhere else. I'm working."

Gavin groans. "Come on, man, she just—"

"Now."

One word. That's all it takes. Gavin's hands drop from Kiki's hair and he's tucking himself in and standing up. Kiki whines. She actually whines when his cock leaves her mouth. Her lips are all shiny and puffy and she looks up at him with those big empty eyes.

"But I wasn't done—"

"Come on, Kiki." Gavin pulls her up by the arm. She stumbles on her heels. Her tits jiggle. She waves at me as Gavin steers her past.

"Hi Gabby! Have fun!"

Then they're gone and the door clicks shut and it's just me and him.

Naked. Dripping. Standing in the doorway of his office with my huge tits and my empty head and my pussy so wet I can feel it sliding down the inside of my thigh.

He looks up.

His eyes move over me. Slow. Starting at my face and dropping down to my tits and my waist and my hips and the wetness on my thighs and then back up. He takes off his glasses. Sets down his pen.

"There she is."

Three words and my pussy clenches so hard I almost fall over.

I take a step forward. Then stop. I can't just walk up to him. That's not— I'm not supposed to— I need to—

I sink to my knees.

The carpet is soft. My tits hang heavy in front of me. I look up at him through my lashes and I can feel tears prickling because he's so perfect and I need him so bad and I don't know why I wasn't here before. Why was I in the library? Why was I anywhere that wasn't right here at his feet?

"Pro..." I start. "Profess..."

The word is so long. So many parts. Pro. Fess. Or. Three whole chunks and by the time I get to the second one the first one is gone.

"Profes... Profeh..."

He watches me struggle. There's something in his eyes. Not mean. Patient. Like he's waiting for me to figure it out.

"You know my name," he says.

And I do.

It rises up from somewhere deep. Not from my brain. From lower. From the warm pink place where all the important things live now. The place where I know every sex toy by name. The place where I know how to suck cock and ride a dildo and make myself cum in four different positions. The place that knows what matters.

"Master."

It falls out of my mouth like honey. Sweet and thick and warm and the second I say it my whole body relaxes. My shoulders drop. My thighs fall open wider. My pussy throbs and I can feel myself dripping onto the carpet.

Master smiles.

I could die.

"Good girl."

I whimper. My clit pulses. Those two words do something to me that no orgasm has ever done. They fill up the empty spaces and make them glow.

"Master," I say again. Just because I can. Just because it feels so good in my mouth. "Master. Master."

"Come here."

I crawl. Hands and knees across the soft carpet. My tits sway beneath me, heavy and full, nipples brushing the carpet with each movement and sending little sparks through me. I crawl around the desk to his feet and kneel there and look up at him.

He reaches down and cups my face. His hand is warm. Big. His thumb brushes across my lower lip and my mouth opens and I almost suck on it but I wait. I wait because Master didn't tell me to.

"You had quite a morning," he says.

"I forgot stuff," I whisper. "I woke up and my boobies were big and I didn't remember and Kiki had to help me and then I was in the kitchen and Gavin was there and I sucked his—" I stop. My cheeks get hot. "And then the library. I tried to read a book."

He chuckles. Low and warm. "How did that go?"

"I couldn't." I look down. "The letters were all hard and my brain kept sending everything to my pussy."

"That's because your pussy is smarter than your brain now, Gabby."

I nod. Because it's true. My pussy knows everything.

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"It's... it's April Fools, right?" The memory is hazy. Thin. Like looking at something through fog. "I came to your office on April Fools and you said... you said something bad. And then there was a spiral. And I..."

He tilts my chin up. Makes me look at him.

"It's not April Fools, Gabby."

"But... but I just..."

"It's September."

The word doesn't make sense. September is far away from April. September is months and months away. September means...

"You've been living here since April," he says. His voice is so gentle. Like he's explaining something to a child. "You've been my happy little bimbo for five months."

"Five... months?"

"This happens sometimes. You wake up and you've forgotten. All the changes feel new again. Your tits. Your ass. Your empty little head." He taps my forehead with one finger. "But you always find your way back to me."

I've been his for five months. I've been walking around this house with my big tits and my wet pussy and my pink empty brain for five whole months and I just... forgot?

"I forget?"

"Every few weeks. You wake up confused. Scared, sometimes. But it never lasts." His thumb strokes my cheek. "You always remember what matters."

"Master," I breathe.

"That's right."

I've been his bimbo for five months.

The thought should scare me. It should make me want to run.

But there's nothing. Just warm pink nothing. And Master's hand on my face. And the wet heat between my legs.

"I always come back to you?"

"Every time. Sometimes it takes an hour. Sometimes you make it all the way to the front door before you turn around." He smiles. "Today you made it to the library."

"I tried to read."

"I know. Kiki told me."

"I couldn't."

"I know."

I press my face into his palm. My eyes are wet. Not from sadness. From relief. I've been so confused all morning. Nothing made sense. My body didn't match my memories and my memories didn't match each other. But this makes sense. This is the answer.

I'm Master's bimbo. I've been Master's bimbo. I just forgot.

"Can you..." I lick my lips. "Can you make me remember? So I don't forget again?"

He opens a drawer. Pulls out his laptop. Sets it on the desk.

"Look at the screen, Gabby."

The spiral.

It blooms open on the black background. White lines curling inward. Slow. Pretty. And the second I see it something in my brain goes oh. Like meeting an old friend. Like coming home.

"Oh," I sigh.

The hum starts. Not from the laptop. From inside me. From everywhere. It vibrates in my chest and sinks down through my belly and settles between my legs where it pulses in time with my heartbeat.

The spiral turns.

I watch.

My mouth falls open. My eyes go soft. I can feel the tension leaving my body. All the confusion from this morning. All the trying to remember. All the fear. It just melts. Drips away. Like ice cream in the sun.

"That's it," Master murmurs. "Just watch."

The almost-word is there again. In the hum. Rising up through the warmth like a bubble.

Bimbo.

"Bimbo," I whisper. It tastes like candy. Like it always does.

Bimbo. Bimbo. Bimbo.

Each pulse sends a wet throb through my clit. My thighs are shaking. My nipples are so hard they ache. I'm dripping onto the carpet. I can hear it. Little wet sounds.

"Who are you?" Master asks.

"Gabby." The spiral pulses. "Master's Gabby."

"What are you?"

"Bimbo." No hesitation. The word is the truest thing I've ever said. "I'm Master's bimbo."

"How long have you been mine?"

"Forever." The spiral turns and the number settles into me. Solid. Real. "Since April. Since you showed me the spiral and I went to my knees and I never got back up."

"That's right. And what happened to the smart girl?"

I try to find her. I look inside my head for the girl with the spreadsheet. The girl who corrected people about her name. The girl who practiced in the mirror.

She's not there.

There's just pink. Warm, soft, wet pink. And at the center of it, like a heartbeat, the word bimbo pulsing over and over.

"She's gone," I say. And I smile. "She dripped out."

"Where did she go?"

"Out my pussy." I giggle. "Every time I cum she gets smaller and now she's all gone and there's just me."

"And who are you?"

"Gabby. Master's dumb little bimbo."

The spiral keeps turning. I keep watching. Each rotation sinks me deeper. The hum gets thicker. Warmer. It wraps around me like a blanket.

"I'm Master's bimbo," I murmur. " I'm Master's bimbo."

The words loop. Each repetition pushes them deeper. Past my brain. Past the pink. Into my bones. Into the part of me that breathes and bleeds and beats.

"I'm Master's bimbo."

"I'm Master's bimbo."

Master closes the laptop.

I blink. The office swims back into focus. My cheeks are wet. My pussy is clenching around nothing. I'm still on my knees and my thighs are soaked and I need—

I need—

"Master, please." My voice is wrecked. Tiny and desperate and high. "Please I need you. I need your cock. I need you inside me please please please—"

He stands. I can see him through the desk. Hard. Straining against his slacks. My mouth waters so fast I almost choke.

He’s in front of me. I'm eye level with his belt. My hands are shaking as I reach for it.

"Please," I beg. "Please let me— I need to—"

"Use your mouth."

I undo his belt with my teeth. It takes forever. My fingers are clumsy and my jaw aches and I'm drooling everywhere but I get it. Button. Zipper. And then his cock is right there. Thick and hard and the tip is wet and I can smell him. Musk and skin and Master.

I moan before I even touch it.

"You've done this before," he says. "Many times. Your mouth knows what to do."

It does. My mouth knows. My mouth is so smart.

I take him in.

The taste hits my tongue and my eyes roll back and my pussy clenches so hard I almost cum. Salt and skin and something deeper. Something that tastes like belonging. Like home.

I suck. Sloppy and wet and messy. Drool running down my chin. Down my neck. Dripping onto my tits. I take him deeper. Past the point where I gag. Past the point where my eyes water. He hits the back of my throat and I swallow around him and the sound he makes is the best thing I've ever heard.

Better than any grade.

Better than any praise from any professor.

Wait. He is my professor. Was. Was my professor. Before. When I was smart and I sat in his class and I squeezed my thighs together during lectures and I went home and I touched myself thinking about—

This. I was thinking about this. About being on my knees with his cock in my throat. And now I'm here. I'm actually here. The fantasy is real and it's better than I ever imagined because I didn't know. I didn't know that sucking his cock would make my brain go quiet. I didn't know that the taste of him would fill up all the empty spaces. I didn't know that this is what I was made for.

He pulls out of my mouth. I whine. Chase him. My lips are swollen and shiny and I need him back.

"On the desk."

I scramble up. Papers scatter. I don't care. I hop onto the edge of the desk and my tits bounce and my legs fall open and I'm so wet that I can see it. Glistening on my thighs. On my pussy. My folds are puffy and pink and my clit is swollen and throbbing and I need him inside me so bad I could scream.

"Please, Master. Please fuck me. Please fuck your dumb little bimbo."

He steps between my legs. The head of his cock presses against my entrance. Just barely. Just enough that I can feel the heat of him. The thickness.

"Say it again."

"I'm Master's bimbo." My voice shakes. "I'm your bimbo. I'm your dumb little bimbo and I need your cock and I need you to fuck me and I need—"

He pushes in.

One thrust. All the way. So deep I can feel him in my stomach. In my chest. In my brain.

I scream.

Not a moan. Not a gasp. A scream. High and raw and broken. My back arches off the desk and my tits bounce and my pussy clamps down on him so tight I can feel every vein. Every ridge. Every inch of him stretching me open and filling me up.

"MASTER!"

He doesn't wait. Doesn't let me adjust. He pulls back and slams in again and the desk shudders and papers fly and something falls off the edge and shatters and I don't care I don't care I don't care.

"I'm Master's bimbo," I gasp. He thrusts. "I'm Master's bimbo." Thrust. "I'm Master's— oh GOD— Master's bimbo—"

Each thrust drives the words deeper. Past my mouth. Past my brain. Into the core of me. Branding them there. Permanent. Unshakeable.

"I'm Master's bimbo. I'm Master's bimbo. I'm Master's bimbo."

His hands grip my hips. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough that I'll feel the marks tomorrow and I'll press on them and get wet remembering.

"Louder," he commands.

"I'M MASTER'S BIMBO!"

He fucks me harder. The desk is slamming against the wall. My tits are bouncing so hard they're hitting my chin. Wet sounds fill the office. My pussy. So wet. So loud. Squelching around his cock with every thrust.

"I'm Master's bimbo! I'm Master's dumb— slutty— empty-headed— BIMBO!"

I'm crying. Tears streaming down my face. Not from pain. From everything. From how full I am. How complete. Every thrust fills up another empty space and the spaces aren't empty anymore. They're full of him. Full of Master.

"I'm never gonna forget again," I sob. "I'm never gonna wake up confused. I'm Master's bimbo. I've always been Master's bimbo. I was Master's bimbo before I even knew it. When I was sitting in your class squeezing my thighs together I was already yours. When I was touching myself at night saying your name I was already yours. I was always gonna end up right here on your desk with your cock inside me because this is what I'm FOR."

He groans. Low and animal. His thrusts get harder. Faster. Deeper.

"I'm Master's bimbo. I'm Master's bimbo. I'm Master's bimbo."

Over and over. Each repetition pushes it deeper. It's not words anymore. It's my heartbeat. It's the rhythm of his cock inside me. It's the pulse of my clit and the clench of my pussy and the bounce of my tits.

"I'm gonna cum," I whimper. "Master please can I cum please please—"

"Not yet."

I SOB. My pussy is clenching so hard it hurts. I'm right there. Right on the edge. One more thrust and I'll—

He slows down. Long, deep strokes. Pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in so slow I can feel every inch.

"When you cum," he says, and his voice is rough now, strained, "you're going to let go of everything. Every last scrap. Every memory of who you were before. You're going to let it all drip out of your pretty little pussy and what's left is going to be mine. Completely. Permanently. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master." I'm shaking. Vibrating. My whole body is one big throb.

"And I'm going to fill you up, Gabby. Not just your pussy. Not just your head." His hand slides down to my belly. Presses flat against it. Warm and big and possessive. "Here."

Oh.

Oh.

The thought hits me like lightning. Master is going to cum inside me. Deep inside me. And he's going to—

"You're going to give me a baby, Master?" My voice is tiny. Awed.

"I'm going to fuck one into you."

My pussy clenches so hard he groans.

"Yes." I'm nodding. Tears streaming. "Yes yes yes. Put a baby in me. Fill me up. I wanna be round and full and pregnant for Master. I wanna carry your baby and my tits are gonna get even bigger and I'm gonna be so pretty and so full and—"

He thrusts hard. Bottoms out. I feel him all the way in.

"Please, Master. Breed me. Breed your dumb little bimbo. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna be yours forever. I wanna have your babies and suck your cock and be your empty-headed slut for the rest of my life and I never wanna think again. I never wanna read again. I never wanna remember anything except your cock and your name and how to be good for you."

"Cum."

One word.

My body detonates.

It starts in my pussy and rips outward. Through my belly. Through my chest. Up into my brain where it explodes like fireworks. Pink fireworks. Warm and bright and everywhere.

I scream his name. "MASTER! MASTER! MASTER!"

My pussy clamps down on him in waves. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Release. And each squeeze pushes something out. The last things. The final scraps.

The smell of my childhood bedroom. Pop. Gone.

The feeling of holding a pen during an exam. Pop. Gone.

The girl I used to be. The girl who had a plan. The girl who practiced in the mirror and color-coded her spreadsheet and corrected people about her name.

Pop.

Gone.

And what fills the space is Master. Just Master. His cock. His voice. His hands. His cum. Master is my whole world now. Master is all I need. Master is everything.

He cums.

I feel it. Hot and thick and so deep. Flooding into me. Filling me up. His cum pouring into my pussy and my womb and I can feel it. I can feel it finding the place where a baby will grow. Where his baby will grow. Inside me. Because I'm his.

"I'm Master's bimbo," I whisper. My voice is wrecked. Barely there. "I'm Master's bimbo."

He keeps cumming. So much. It's leaking out around his cock, dripping down onto the desk, and I'm still clenching, still milking him, my pussy trying to keep every drop inside because it's Master's cum and I can't waste it. I can't let any of it go.

"I'm Master's bimbo."

He collapses against me. His weight on top of me. His face in my neck. I can feel his breath. Hot and ragged. His cock still inside me. Still twitching. Still filling me.

My arms wrap around him. My legs lock behind his back. Keeping him close. Keeping him inside.

"I'm Master's bimbo," I murmur into his hair. "I'm Master's bimbo. I'm Master's bimbo."

The words are soft now. Not desperate. Not screaming. Just true. Just the truest thing in the world. Said quiet and warm like a prayer.

He lifts his head. Looks at me. His dark eyes are soft. Softer than I've ever seen them. His thumb wipes a tear off my cheek.

"Welcome home, Gabby."

I smile. Big and dopey and wet and happy. So happy. The happiest I've ever been.

"I'm home," I say.

He pulls out slow. His cum gushes out of me. So much of it. Warm and thick running down my thighs and onto the desk and I reach down and scoop some up and put my fingers in my mouth because I can't waste it. I won't waste it.

He watches me suck his cum off my fingers and his cock twitches and I know he's going to fuck me again. Soon. Maybe in a few minutes. Maybe right now. I'll be ready. I'm always ready.

I lie on his desk. Naked and sticky and full and empty. Papers stuck to my sweaty skin. His cum pooling between my legs. My tits rising and falling with each breath. My brain quiet and warm and pink and soft.

No thoughts.

No worries.

No plans.

Just Master's cum in my pussy and Master's baby in my belly and Master's name in my heart and nothing else. Nothing else forever.

I giggle.

My tits bounce.

Master's hand rests on my tummy. Warm and big and possessive. Right over the place where his baby is going to grow.

"Master?"

"Yes, Gabby?"

"I'm not gonna forget tomorrow. I can feel it. You fucked it in so deep. I'm not gonna forget."

He kisses my forehead. "And if you do?"

I think about it. My brain is slow and warm and it takes a while. But the answer comes. Easy. Simple. The only answer.

"Then you'll fuck me again until I remember."

He laughs. Low and warm and rumbly. It vibrates through me everywhere we're still touching.

"That's my good girl."