Debimboing Sophie! ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ

Rathazul takes the teas and the gems into his wizened palms, shuffling the glittering jewels into a pouch and the teas into a large decanter. He promptly sets the combined brews atop a flame and shuffles over to his workbench, where he picks up numerous pouches and vials of every color and description, adding them to the mix one after the other. The mixture roils and bubbles atop the open flame like a monstrous, eerie thing, but quickly simmers down to a quiet boil. Rathazul leaves it going for a while, stirring occasionally as he pulls out a smaller vial. Once most of the excess liquid has evaporated, he pours the concoction into the glass container and corks it, holding it up to the light to check its coloration.

“That should do,” he mutters to himself. Rathazul turns, carefully handing you the mixture. “This should counter the mental-inhibiting effects of the Bimbo Liqueur, but I have no idea to what extent those who imbibe it will retain of their time spent as a bimbo...”

-----

Sophie leans down when you approach, hiding most of her body behind the pendulous weight of her massive breasts. The weighty orbs sway back and forth, the sweat-soaked skin sliding in a delicious rhythm, nearly dragging her heavy nipples through the dirt. You find yourself transfixed by the sight, enraptured by the bimbo’s hypnotic body while she jiggles and shakes for your pleasure.

“Enjoying the show?” she purrs in one breathy exhalation. You look up, straight into her plush, amber-colored lips and shudder, unconsciously imagining those cock-pillows slurping around your member. You find yourself nodding and blushing heavily as you drink in the bimbo’s body.

You could use the bottle of debimbo to return Sophie’s intellect...

[DEBIMBO]

Taking the potent mixture out of your pouch, you consider giving it to the bimbo harpy fluttering about in front of you. She’d probably be pretty mad about the whole affair, but if you want to repair the damage you’ve inflicted, this is probably your best bet. Do you un-bimbo Sophie?

[NO]

You shrug and put the potion back in your pack. Maybe later... A mad Sophie isn’t something you particularly want to deal with right now.

[YES]

You grab the air-headed harpy and pull her over to you, pressing her impressive chest against you as you ready your intellectual beverage. “Oooh! Hey, babe, what’cha got there?” Sophie asks, staring wide-eyed at the tincture. Telling her not to worry about it, you pop the cork and bring the vial’s neck up to Sophie’s mouth, her big, full lips parting eagerly. “Hey, is it wine? I could just DIE for some wine! Then maybe, like, a good hard fucking afterwards!” she declares, jumping excitedly in your grasp - almost making you spill the drink. You grasp her chin, steadying the harpy’s head just long enough to upend the liquid into her mouth, making sure to drain every last drop into her before you tickle her throat, forcing her to swallow it all in one audible gulp.

“Ew! That TOTALLY wasn’t booze!” Sophie complains, struggling out of your grasp and pouting, feather arms crossed beneath her heavy bosom. You observe her for a long moment, waiting... waiting.... “Hey, I like, don’t feel so good...” Sophie finally says, clutching her head, fingers running through her thick blonde locks. “Ugh, I don’t... Why... Oh, shit, where am I? And what happened to my TITS!?” Sophie staggers forward, blinking hard. When she looks up at you a moment later, you can see that gleam of intelligence flaring brightly once more in her blue eyes.

“Wha... what did you DO TO ME!?!?!” Sophie screams, a look of sheer feral rage splayed across her still-bimbofied face, full-lips drawn into a snarl beneath gleaming eyes and long golden hair. Her shiny yellow feathers ruffle as she stomps up to you, putting her face right up to yours. “You bastard! WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?”

You recoil at the sudden outburst of rage, mind racing for an appropriate course of action...

[BIMBO AGAIN]

Oh no, fuck this! You lunge forward, seizing the recovering harpy while removing another Bimbo Liqueur from your belt. “Wha- No!” she cries, but too late! You pop the cork, and dump the braincell-killing booze down her gullet, keeping her mouth muffled and nose pinched shut until she swallows it allllllll down like the good little slut she truly is; the spent bottle rolling around on the floor as the sound of wet gulping fills the air. The deed done, she slumps to the ground, her eyes crossing with familiar confusion as the liqueur does its job, frying her brain back into oblivion.

“B... babe?” she asks a moment later, looking up at you with wide, dim eyes. Her hand drifts down toward her sodden box, idly fingering it as she looks to you. “Wanna, like, fuck or something?”

Well then, crisis averted!