#BAMBI'S TRANS? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haileys-out2 · 2 months

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I’ve been told to make this caption from one of my photos (yes this is me in the photo). I have no control over any of this, I’ve been told what tags to use and how long the post is to be pinned to the top of my page. 😥

The post is up for three months (until June 8) and I am scared about how long I’ll get!!

P-p-please be nice. I d-d-don’t want my life ruined!! 😭😭😭

Update. If this post hits 100 REBLOGS I have to get a larger plug and dildo.

Update 2. You are all mean (specially @count-alta with your 20-odd reblogs)😤😭😭 I now have to get a larger plug and dildo. If it gets to 300 REBLOGS then I have to make a Discord server to show that I am in fact wearing the cage and plug 😭😭😭😭 this is getting both out of control and expensive

Update 3. It hasn’t even been a week. 😢😢 I’ve been instructed to add note milestones. I’ve only been given a couple for now but more will be added if any of you suggest something my dominant likes.

Update 4. I’m back from a brief hiatus from Tumblr while I settled into a new job, and I discovered that this post really took off. I now have to make discord (coming soon) and I’ve been given a new Reblog MILESTONE. If this post reaches 500 Reblogs I will have to start HRT. If it hits 1000 Reblogs then I have to find a man to fuck me on camera 😭😭😭😭. Please be nice.

Update 5: whelp it’s done. My Discord server is live

1500 notes: I have to keep myself hairless from the nose down.

1700 notes: Make an Amazon Wishlist and add 100 toys and clothes for anyone to buy. Anyone who buys them will get a free show with what they bought

1800 notes: my hair must be grown out

2000 notes: I have to resume my BambiSleeps regimen

2500 notes: Practice deepthroating the current sized dildo twice a week

2750 notes: I now have listen to Bambi sleeps every morning, afternoon and night on my days off

3000 notes: Sit on a 7-inch dildo 2 times a week for 30 min

3250 notes: I have to start using she/her pronouns

3500 notes: I have start wearing a bra everyday

3750 notes: Use a large plug now

4000 notes: I have to start an OF (ManyVids and webcamming as well once I find a better living arrangement)

4250: I have to film myself suck cock

4500 notes: i can only ever cum from anal

5000 notes: I can only wear androgynous clothing. Nothing overtly masculine

5100 notes: Sit on an 8-inch dildo 3 times a week for 30 min

5400 notes: Listen to Bambisleep hypno every time I do anal

6000 notes: edge with a Hitachi magic wand for 30 once a week

6500 notes: start using a ball gag whenever I do anal

7100 notes: Once a week I have to film myself anal training and share it to the discord channel

8000 notes: Sit on a 9-inch dildo 4 times a week for 30 min

8500 notes: I must listen to ALL hypno that is sent to me

9000 notes: The Hitachi edging session becomes twice a week

12300 notes: Clicker train myself to get horny to the thought of cock

13200 notes: Use an XL plug now

13500 notes: Only use 10-inch toys from now on sit on it 6 times a week for 30 min, once a week use a 12+ inch toy

15000 notes: I have to get either bottom surgery or an orchiectomy

20000 notes: I have to be spit roasted

25000 notes: I have to be the center of a Blow Bang

32500 notes: I have to be the center of a Gangbang 😳😳😳

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fizzigigsimmer · 1 month

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This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race

There's no following @bigdumbbambieyes but take this humble offering.

The Best You (Never) Had

written for @harringrove-relay-race

Rating: M

Pairing: Steve x Billy with a heavy dose of angst.

I was charmed and instantly driven insane by the absolutely bomb Harringrove playboy bunnies drawn by @adelacreations, and it inspired me to wonder about a trans femme Billy, running into her past at a strip club.

Enjoy the adventures of Bunny Hargrove.

And stay on the look out for what @robthegoodfellow has coming up!

When Billie left Hawkins she hadn’t looked to her future and seen herself working at a strip club. She certainly hadn’t foreseen the possibility of having to serve her high-school bully cheap food and lousy drinks in one once she’d made it back to Cali. But that’s exactly what seems to be in store for her – fuck her life.

Five men occupy the half moon booth and table reserved mostly for bachelor parties and the occasional VIP. Billie’s coworker Amanda has been serving them food and drinks while they enjoy the sets of dancers on stage, but her wait shift is ending and Billie’s prepping to take over – tuning out the other woman as she complains about one of the men grabbing at her ass and being a poor tipper.

It seems impossible, but somehow it’s happening. Steve Harrington is sitting right there, watching Lacey wiggle her ass in red spandex to a Katy Perry song.

It’s been going on fifteen years, but Billie would recognize him anywhere. Same slouch to the shoulders and dreamy eyed stare – neither Lacey’s wild gyrations nor the conversation of the group he’s with enough to hold his full attention. Same stupid hair, although he’s changed the shape since high school. Now it’s held securely to one side by too much gel, and she just wants to break it up with her fingers. His laugh still doesn’t reach his eyes, and it probably says a lot about Billie, that some part of her is relieved to see that.

Her rent might be too high, her boss might be a creep, and her ex is still full of shit, but Steve Harrington is still hanging around with guys like Tommy and faking a smile, so it balances the scales.

He’s still gorgeous too, fuck him. Billie swallows and forces herself to look away, and not run away like the frantic beating of her heart suggests that she should. She’s got nothing to hide, and she’s not ashamed.

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t saunter right over to the table with the bachelor party Amanda was gracious enough to split with her (knowing all about her rent worries) and flirt her way to another month of financial security; except for the fact that even in this day and age, certain people still get funny about people like her and Billie knows these guys.

Or rather, they knew her before – before she got out of Neil’s house, before freedom, before Billie.

There’s no reason at all she shouldn’t go over there and take that table full of drunk losers, eager to blow their cash on the club's cheap booze and dancing girls, for all that they’re worth. Nothing besides fear.

Fuck that.

The group is laughing loudly about something as Billie saunters up, one last swarm of butterflies taking flight in her belly as Hagen turns his neck to squint blearily at her.

God, that stupid smirk hasn’t changed a bit – wide and dopey like the dog he is, and mean in the eyes. Those beetle browns look her over just like they did on her first day in Hawkins, assessing for strengths and weaknesses to exploit; and for a moment she remembers the terror of being under that gaze and all the others like it. The fear of being caught out consuming her, choking her, day after day.

Sorry kid. Billie thinks to herself with a sway of her hips, right before parking herself up against the arm of the leather couch, warm skin brushing the sleeve on Tommy’s shoulder. The way that his lips part unconsciously as he gawks at her doesn’t make up for the past, but it still feels damn good. She’s a bad bitch and she knows it. Knew it back then but now she can show it and will kick ass if Tommy or any of his buddies decide they have a problem with it.

But it’s not recognition of any kind on any of their faces, it’s lust. They leer at the shiny shorts that hug her thighs and the plunging neckline of her tiny top – her employer's idea of a uniform. Whatever vindication she feels on behalf of her pitiful high school self, she doesn’t actually care anymore what Tommy and the clones think.

Billie finds her eyes going to Steve like they’re magnetized.

She shouldn’t care what Harrington thinks either, and yet, there’s a stupid flutter in her chest (damn it) when Steve looks her over, eyes lingering just a hair too long on her chest to be anything other than interested, before he meets her eye.

“Hey beautiful.” He leans forward a little, totally present now like he wasn’t before dripping charm he obviously learned in some board room working for daddy. And yet, there’s still some part of Billie that expects to wake up in bed back in the house on Cherry Street.

“What’s your name?” Steve Harrington is definitely asking, her, like it’s just a pre-courser to getting her naked, and Billie shivers. Fuck is she doing this?

“Hi Bambi, I’m Bunny.” She teases. Sees the line in the sand and walks right over it. Tommy howls like some chick likening his buddy to a baby deer is the most hilarious shit, and it sets the others off, oohing and ahhing and generally acting like fools as they rib Harrington.

But Steve ignores them, and the way he jolts a little when he hears that name, eyes narrowing on her in wary confusion, goes straight to her clit. Shit. One of these days her hard on for danger is gonna get her killed. But today it’s got her heart thumping and her pussy dripping as she clenches around nothing, like he’s already sliding inside where she obviously still wants him. She needs better taste in men. She’s sure her mama would have said she gets her poor taste from her if she’d stuck around long enough while Billie was growing up.

“I’m a sucker for big pretty brown eyes.” She winks at him, sugar sweet and he seems to settle a little. “Can I get you another round of drinks, or are you in the mood for something better?”

“Bunny.” He ignores the question to turn her show name over on his tongue, slow and curious like he’s tasting it. “Are you on tonight?” He asks, gaze twitching toward the stage and back.

“You calling me a stripper Bambi?”

“It is a strip club, and with a name like Bunny.”

Billie laughs and Steve’s mouth slides into a satisfied smirk, like that was always the end goal. Tommy rolls his eyes and pouts like an overgrown toddler, “Didn’t you date a chick named Trixie?”

“Yeah. So?” Steve drawls in reply, his focus momentarily shifting from Billie and back to Tommy, which if Billie’s memory serves, is exactly how Tommy likes it.

This is a bad idea. Such a bad idea. God, Hagen really hasn’t changed, but neither has Steve. Those dry little dig and the arch of his eyebrows are so familiar she feels a strange sort of relief. Like there was something inside her that had been counting down since the last time she saw him, afraid that he’d change and become lost to memory.

Fuck. That sounds – it’s not, what it sounds.

“So, you can’t tell a stripper by their name is all I’m saying.”

“Dude, are you serious? I met Trixie because you paid for her to show up at my apartment dressed like a police officer and give me a lap dance on my birthday.”

Now there’s an idea, Billie thinks as Tommy, remembering the incident, smiles sheepishly.

“I’m not dancing tonight, no.” Billie finally answers his question, pulling Steve’s attention back and a shiver goes down her spine when his eyes snap to her. “But I wouldn’t say no to tying you up and having my way with you, Pretty Boy.”

She doesn’t have to wonder if Steve remembers her the way she remembers him. If the words Billie had said and the insults, she’d flung had burrowed under his skin to live with him the same way Billie lives with his.

Steve flinches, his eyes narrowing sharply on her, and it’s barely perceptible but she catches it before he’s being nudged at and jostled from both sides by his buddies as they hoot and holler about how he’s been chosen.

He never stops looking at her.

The only one who doesn’t seem absolutely thrilled for him to get picked up by some babe in a seedy strip club in Santa Monica is Tommy, who grumbles something about the attention being wasted on Steve.

For the first time Billie wonders if he might be the bachelor about to get hitched – and she’s the one to flinch this time, as her eyes dart down to his hand. The ring finger is empty, which doesn’t really prove anything, but the pale strip of skin she finds there tells its own story.

Divorced? Long engagement? Married already perhaps and out to prove the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Fuck she hopes it’s not the last one. Not because it would change anything for her. Maybe it would, if she were a nicer person, but she’s not the married one, and if she started splitting hairs about fooling around with married men her tip jar would be a whole lot emptier each month.

No. She just plain doesn’t want him to be attached. The thought makes her chest twist up inside and the bottom of her stomach feel like it’s going to fall right out her ass – the same fucked up emotional constipation she’d felt watching him run through the female population of Hawkins High like he was trying to make them all forget they’d watched Nancy Wheeler take his balls and then make an absolute fool of him.

“Thanks for the offer, Bunny -” Steve starts, and she can hear the butt coming as clear as the others can if the sudden swell of groans is anything to go by.

“Harrington! Come on man.”

“Boo!”

“See what I mean? That’s a fucking ten right there, and you’re going to blow it over some bitch who doesn’t even want you?!” Screeches Tommy.

Bingo. Thank you, Tommy, with the big mouth. So, it’s divorced. Separated but still holding on to the past – just like old times.

It makes her smile a little mean as she leans toward him, holding his gaze, purrs - “You scared, Bambi? Worried I might break you?”

Steve clamps his mouth shut. His eyes blaze at her and her throat goes dry.

“Oh ho! Careful now darlin, our Stevie boys got a pretty big ego. You might not want to poke that bull if you’re not ready for the ride.” One of the bros says with the kind of glint in his eye that says he lives for ‘big egos’ putting little women like her into place. Fucking prick.

Steve seems to think so too because he mutters, “Shuttup Andy” as he reaches in his pocket for his wallet.

“How much?” he asks her, sounding bored. It’s bullshit. Billie licks her lip in triumph.

“Fifty for a lap dance here at the table, fifty more if you want to see some tit.”

“How much for a private show?”

Her breath hitches, her stomach tightening in her eagerness, but somehow, she keeps the breath out of her tone as she replies.

“Depends on what you want to see.” She answers, and without so much as a pause Harrington smiles – challenges.

“Everything.”

Fuck. She’s doing this.

She’s not delusional enough to think that fucking him is going to heal her inner child or whatever, and while she firmly believes she doesn’t owe every one night stand a complete rundown of her medical history, she’s fully aware of how this is different – of what the upstanding thing to do would be.

But then Billie remembers the way Steve had started pushing back after their fight that strange night at the Byers house; the way he’d swooped in and pulled the rug out from under her – reclaiming his spot as top dog, just by existing. No begging. No apologies. He just opened the doors to that mansion he lived in and rang the bell, and Tommy and the rest had come looking for supper.

She remembers the cruel things he said to her as he flaunted his big house and fancy car, rubbing in how quickly it was over once he made it a real contest; because however shiny and new Billie had been to those kids, she was still just trash under it all. Angry white trash going nowhere fast, while Steve was Mr. Somebody. Once he’d pulled his head out of Wheeler’s ass and remembered it, he’d made turning the school against Billie his new focus.

Pushed further and further to the fringes, Billie’s only choice to keep the jackals at bay had been to fight them off until people got the message and started avoiding her altogether.

She’s not claiming victim. She knows damn well who started the fight – that it was her own demons that drove her to lash out and try and prove her dominance over him – and that after that night at the Byers, Steve had especially no reason to take mercy on her.

But just because she’d asked for the fight doesn’t mean taking a beating hadn’t nearly pushed her to the edge.

Billie swallows back the taste of bitterness in her mouth, from the memory of being alone, broken and desperate, aching to be near someone who loathed her and yearning for the looks he gave so easily to other girls.

Except now he is – King Steve – looking at Billie Hargrove like he wants her. Like he’d empty out his wallet and spend all of that nepo baby salary just for the chance to get at her; and like hell is she going to turn it away. Revenge couldn’t get sweeter than this. The only thing that could make it better is if he knew. It’s me on your mind. Me you can’t ignore. Me you can’t walk away from.

But it’s just a fantasy. The reality him recognizing her now or later has her swinging from vicious jubilation toward mind numbing panic on a dime.

Regardless - Steve Harrington stands up, ignoring the cheers of his drunk friends, eyes locked with hers – and Billie Hargrove makes her own choices.

Billie is going to ride Steve until he sees God, hollowed be her name. Because she wants him (still) and he finally wants her. Just for once. That’s all she needs.

She can worry about the aftermath after.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #harringrove relay race #trans femme Billy Hargrove #Billie Hargrove is a bad bitch and she makes no apologies #nor should she #Also love that her working name is Bunny #Bunny x Bambi forever lol

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