Airhead Academy Bimbo 101 (7/10)

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Jake had been counting down the days. Just one more week and it would all be over—no more fake tits, no more makeup, no more humiliating cage tucked between his legs. He could almost feel his old life waiting for him. He just had to make it through seven more days.

“Jessiiicaaa,” Chloe called from the living room, her voice syrupy sweet. “We scheduled a little salon appointment for you, so you need to get ready and head out. They’re expecting you soon~”

Jake let out a soft little sigh, not even looking up from his phone. “Ughhh, fine, whatever,” he mumbled, his voice coming out high and breathy without him even trying. Like... it’s almost over anyway, so who even cares, he thought, lips pouting slightly as he stood up and wandered over to his closet.

Without thinking, he slipped into a tight black tank top that framed his cleavage perfectly, the soft swell of his breast forms pressed up over the neckline. A tiny denim skirt followed, sliding up his thighs and brushing right over the little cage between his legs before settling snugly around his hips. He paused, deciding between the strappy stilettos or the cork wedges sitting in the corner of his closet. He reached for the wedges, slipping on the six-inch heels with a soft little sigh. Just something casual today, he thought.

His makeup routine, once a nightmare, flew by on autopilot. Winged liner, rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips—it all came together effortlessly. Grabbing his purse, he gave the mirror a practiced pout, then tottered out to his car, the sharp click of his wedges following every step.

The salon was bright and airy, filled with the scent of citrus shampoo and fresh hairspray. The stylist greeted him with a smile, motioning him over. “Chloe let me know exactly what you wanted today, sweetie. We’ll start with a fresh set of nails, alright?” Jake just nodded, crossing his legs and admiring the smooth curve of his calves while she carefully applied a long, dramatic set of French acrylics. He wiggled them when she was done, admiring the glossy finish without even realizing it.

Next came the hair. Jake sank deeper into the chair, relaxed and lazy, barely noticing as the stylist sectioned off his soft brunette waves and began wrapping them in foils. He closed his eyes with a soft little sigh, letting the quiet hum of dryers and gentle salon chatter lull him.

“Do you want your lips plumped a bit while we wait?” the stylist asked sweetly, already snapping on gloves.

“Like, yeah, go for it,” Jake mumbled absentmindedly, not even looking up.

It wasn’t until he felt the first sharp pinch that his eyes snapped wide. “Omigawd, wait—like, what’re you—ow!” he squeaked, lips parting as the second needle pricked the other side. His fingers clutched the armrests, the sensation strange and tingly. A soft pressure spread through his lips, swelling them just a touch fuller, a little more pouty. His heart pounded, but he didn’t stop her—just sat there, blinking dazedly, as the stylist moved on to his hair and began gently removing the foils.

Jake’s breath caught as he looked at his newly blonde hair being rinsed and blowdried. It didn’t look like a trick of the light. It wasn’t just a few highlights. His hair was blonde. “Omigod...” he breathed, lips parting slightly. “I’m, like... blonde now...” The stylists behind him giggled softly as he stared at his reflection—at the golden strands framing his face, at the swollen pout of his freshly filled lips, at the soft, confused girl blinking back at him from the mirror.

By the time he tottered back into Chloe’s house, the girls were already waiting. The moment Jake stepped inside, heels clacking and curls bouncing with every step, all heads turned. “Omigod, Jess,” one of them said, eyes widening slightly. “Blonde is so your color.” Another nodded, looking her up and down. “Seriously—you look way better like this.”

“Blonde is totally your color,” Chloe said, eyeing her up and down. “And the nails look great.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “I definitely didn’t order pouty lips though... did our little bimbo ask for extras?”

Jake’s cheeks turned bright pink. He clutched his purse to his chest, those freshly-done nails glinting in the light as he nervously twirled a blonde curl around one finger. “Umm... I, like... I dunno? The stylist said somethin’ and I was just like ‘sure’ and then she, like, did it...”

The room exploded in laughter.

“You agreed to lip fillers without even asking what they were?!”

“She’s such a bimbo, I can’t—”

“Oh my god, Jessica, you’re literally the most airheaded thing everrr!”

Jake pouted, lower lip sticking out just a little more than it used to. “Ughhh, shut up...” he muttered, cheeks still burning.

He crossed his arms, blonde curls bouncing as he huffed. Just one more week. Just a little longer. Then he’d be free.

…Right?