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Katy has changed in the time I've been dating her. And I'm comfortable with that. She is also the happiest she's ever been, and despite the fact that it isn't quite the 'normal' way of things, and some people raise an eyebrow, the fact that she, and I, are so in love and comfortable about the way things are going is good enough.

When we first met she had been adrift. A meaningless existence in a pointless job for negligible money. She was slowly spiralling into a depression and the process of starting dating was an attempt to halt that. The process of dating was to get something to look forward to, a bit more meaning to her life and some goals to aim for.

She was very pretty when we first met. But the despondence of her situation was written all over her face and her body language, making her seem exhausted. We had a good time though, and one date led to another, and that's how it all began.

Sexually we worked very well. We both had high appetites, and both came away feeling very satisfied. Katy even more so, perhaps - she often seemed euphoric after a good fucking. And we experimented and were suitably kinky. One thing she started to love was watching porn when we were together, though she also liked to watch it quite a lot on her own, when I was up or out of the house or away from home.

I think she got a big kick out of showing me porn. She loved how it made me hard, and would always jerk me off whilst watching it. What I didn't notice much at the time was the thread that connected all of the videos and stories she picked. Perhaps if I hadn't been so distracted (mainly by her warm hands wrapped around my shaft) at the time I could have seen the signs a little earlier.

As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, things were looking up for Katy. She seemed in better spirits, and was getting more out of life. She was happier, and was taking more pride in her appearance, and was realising the beauty that I had first seen in her hidden behind her tired eyes months ago. The only criticism I had was just how bloody long it took her to put on her makeup! She was always "making herself look nice for me", she said.

Flicking poker oyna through photos a year or so later, the changes started to become more noticeable. Her makeup had been getting heavier. Her clothes that little bit tighter and little bit shorter. And her hair, always brunette, had been getting a little bit lighter. I didn't really pay too much heed to this though - I was in love with her, and she was gorgeous. Even more gorgeous for just how much happier she was these days.

It was when she asked me if I minded if she changed her hair colour that it started to make a bit more sense. In the middle of a stroke session, with my throbbing cock in her hand and porn on the TV, she asked whether I liked the girl's hair. I grunted a yes, and she smiled and kept on jerking. A week later, I came home to find her completely bleach blonde and grinning ear to ear.

"Ta da!" she said as she sauntered over to me. "How do you like your new blonde bunny?" she said before enveloping my lips with a kiss. I didn't lie to her. She looked hot. Really, really, hot.

"And you don't think I look trashy?"

"No, not at all!" I blurted out as quickly as I could. I was lying. And I couldn't read the look that crossed her face. From a slight sad pout to a determined gaze to a coy grin in the space of a few seconds. "Thanks" she said in a completely neutral tone before turning away from me and making her way upstairs, giving me a peak up her skirt: the shortest I'd seen her wear yet.

That evening and for the following weeks I couldn't help but notice the bleached blonde hair that all of the porn stars that she showed me had. But thinking about it, I never remember it being any different. Throughout the months of our relationship, all the porn stars that she liked to watch were - to be frank - bimbos. Hang on. Surely not?

The course of the following year proved my suspicions to be correct. Her clothes got tighter, she got fitter, her makeup got thicker and her bottle blonde hair got longer. And again, I won't lie. She was a stunner. Our sex was getting better and better, and the girls in the videos she continued to show to me got faker and faker.

The canlı poker oyna moment that sealed it was about two years into our relationship. My beautiful blonde bunny (as she was increasingly liking me calling her) was wanking me to a girl with the roundest, fakest plastic tits I'd ever seen. Just as I was approaching a mega orgasm after an hour of her slow edging, she excitedly burst out: "Look at her, babe. Look at her massive juggs. She's such a slutty bimbo whore, isn't she? She turns you on doesn't she, babe? Keep staring at her fat tits while I rub your big hard cock. You love enormous round boobies don't you, you dirty perv. I wanna get a boob job for you. Do you like the idea of me with bigger, plastic breasts, babe? Being your slutty fake bimbo?" And I came. Hard. She grinned and giggled and had her own, body-rippling orgasm without even touching herself. Fuck, this was hot.

That evening our pillow talk (with slow tantric sex interspersed) lasted well into the early hours of the morning, and with innumerable orgasms for both me and Katy. And it all started to make sense, as her long-repressed desires were released. I, at long last, was getting to know who she really was.

Katy was obsessed with becoming a bimbo. She'd been slowly transforming herself over the last few months. This was why her tops had got lower cut. Why her skirts had got tighter. Why her makeup had got heavier. Why she'd bleached her hair. Why she'd been feeding me with endless porn videos, jacking me off and training me to love the bimbo look.

It was fascinating, if not slightly disturbing, to see her level of devotion to this idea. She confessed that she saw this going a lot further. She wanted bigger tits. She wanted fat, cocksucking lips. She wanted laser removal of all of her body hair. She wanted to be skinnier. She wanted a fake tan. She wanted higher cheekbones. She wanted a bigger, juicier ass. She wanted longer hair. She wanted a dumber voice. She wanted tighter pussy lips. She wanted a blanker mind. She wanted to become a living fuckdoll.

I was worried. Had I driven her to this? Had I been too excited by the blonde bombshells in the videos she'd shown me? Had I had a wandering eye? I tried to explain that I loved her however she was and didn't need to change for me. But she was having none of it.

"This isn't your doing, babe" she said to me sultrily, slowly pumping my tired member. "You're not changing me. I'm changing me. This is what I want. And I'm changing you. I want you to want this babe. I want you to crave my bimbofication as much as I do. I want you to want me to be to be the trashiest, blondest, bustiest and sluttiest fucktoy I can be. Why do you think that I've been making you watch all that porn? And babe, we're just getting started. Now that it's all out in the open there is some dark stuff that I want to show you babe. And I'm sorry if it scares you. But this bimbo fixation is my life. It's my purpose. And I want it to be yours too. I want to be an object." She paused, gasped, and shuddered before continuing. "I want to be owned by you. I want to be everything your basest thoughts desire. I exist to please your cock..."

She came. Thunderously. She screamed, and wailed, and writhed, and squirted. Like I'd never seen before. She fell back onto the bed, shaking. Another orgasm overcame her, as she jammed four fingers into the wettest cunt I'd ever heard. She came again, and again, and again. It was like she was torturing herself, never giving herself a minute to breathe. And then she passed out.

That night came and went, and in the weeks and months that followed, the dreams that Katy (now Kaytee) had laid bare were coming true. She's now undergone two ambitious breast enhancement surgeries and was planning her third. She'd spent days and days in hospital in pursuit of her desire. And her mentality was changing, and to be honest, so was mine. Never a particularly abstinent couple as it was, we now couldn't stop fucking. Three times a day was not abnormal. Kaytee liked to watch hardcore, degrading porn on the TV in the lounge whilst being plowed from behind by me. And I'm getting used to having my own personal slut at my beck and call. A warm, wet fuckhole that can't say no. A personification of a fleshlight, always desperate for my sperm.

Kaytee had changed, and with that she'd changed me. I loved it, and I love her more than anything in the world. Here's to the most depraved future you can imagine.