And Acrylic, Clear, Platform, Stripper Heels. Seriously. Everyone Should Have At Least One Pair. Ideally

Wow! You nearly disappointed me there, but that was then excellent! Bravo! Lisp, sales, respect

She had been the driving force behind the mall’s creation, but now she was just a floorwalker in its anchor store, a Yellow Front franchise.

Supposedly, her job was to offer help and answer questions.  In practice, she was there so people could laugh at her piercings.

Her white nylon blouse made no secret of the palm-sized starburst nipple shields under it.  A thick ring hung from the septum of her nose, making her look like livestock.  But the worst was the heavy stud through the front part of her tongue, which made it impossible to speak clearly.

Customers never seemed to tire of hearing her say things like, “Menf cwoaves aw ovah deah” or “Vhat item iv not cawwied in vhis depawtment.”

Brilliant! And no, if I was trying to stump you I would say something like: pigtails, plastic, dumber.

Every time Barbara ties her pigtails with those plastic clips I gave her, she absorbs another dose of the drug that is making her dumber.

No, that’s much too easy.  I can do better than that.

Barbara didn’t actually mind putting her hair in pigtails.  Back when she was a market analyst, she had to wear the corporate uniform, including a high-maintenance ‘do.  She envied the technicians in the back rooms, who could dress as they please.

She was still forced to abide by a dress code, but it was actually less of a hassle, since it was basically the same outfit every time: sort of a Swiss dairy maid, hair in pigtails, smile and makeup mandatory.

She didn’t mind showing off her legs, or her cleavage.  “Eh, you deal with it,” she often said.  What did bother her were the platform heels of transparent plastic.  How the fuck did Mr. Bickford think they went with a minidirndl?  She never questioned it, she just wore them.

When she got to her desk, she found a package on her desk.  It proved to be a bizarre assortment of Japanese products, plus a “Golden Brown” membership card at The Sun Spot tanning salon, and a note stuck on the cover of a glossy pamphlet.  The note said Mr. Bickford wanted her to start wearing Ganguro makeup.

It was just about the only thing that could possibly have made her look dumber.

Whoops! I've used 'dumber' before... hmm? Perhaps, giggle, ditzy, memo?

Mr. Cameron:

Like, okay, I’ll just do stuff any way that you say, y’know?

You just ask, and I’m your gal!

Love, Ditzi

Meredith hit SEND and hoped that she hadn’t laid it on too thick.

Then she remembered that the last time she’d thought she might have laid it on a little too thick, she’d been told she was still sounding too “mannish”, and sighed.

She put her head down on her desk for exactly one silent recitation of the “Pilgrim’s Chorus” from Tannhäuser and began a new e-mail, this time to Procurement to order a new nameplate for her desk that would read “Ditzi”.

This is just incredible - the idea of convincing everyone else that one is a bimbo and forcing one to be treated that way without any changes is a novel and perfectly deviant method of protagonist entrapment! Stellar stuff!

In Need of Editing

Ooh! I'd forgotten about this short one! I posted this at the MCStories.com forum in 2009. Much happier with this little piece. And it's not TG! Nope just pure, grade A (well, C- at least) bimboization. It may not be good, but it contains no traces of horse meat. Oh yeah. 2013 current affairs reference. Boyah.

In Need of Editing OK. Jen had definitely been fretting about this too much. Whilst she would definitely need a stellar CV to even get an interview with the prestigious firm of Wynd, Grey & Street, she really was more than capable. All she had needed to do was take a break from editing the thing, perhaps look at that relaxing screensaver that Paul from across the hall had installed for her, and then return to the document with fresh eyes. So far that had truly done the trick! Already, Jenny could see she had made some pretty amateur errors when it came to creating a perfect representation of herself and her accomplishments. For one thing, the entire section on her schooling was far too long winded. Who really needs to mention a college when one has gone onto higher education anyway? And alongside that, she could probably cut out the mention of a BSc from Cambridge altogether. The results from her school then looked a little out of place, though. All those ‘A’s. Far, far too repetitive. Now, removing some of the subjects she had studied and adding in some ‘D’s and ‘E’s made for far more colourful reading. Now, Jenni just had to attack that interests section. “…enjoy reading... poetry… interest in classical mythology” What was she thinking?! She wanted herself to come across in the text and all this did was make her seem some tedious shut-in! Now, “Interests in clothes… makeup… flirting….boys…”. That would make her seem far more vivac-, vicacio-… sexy. Finally, just a quick modification to her personal statement. Something totally like “I’m willing to do anything for this job. Anything.” And maybe a photo of her flashing her thong to the camera lens, instead of the usual boring ones the cute old guys at the firm must get. And done. Well, maybe the font could be made, like, pink and stuff.

Stalling

And my most recent (2009) piece. Slightly longer and really my best... wow. My best isn't all that good.... Still it's straight up bimbo transformation, this time via good old mind control! And still a hefty dose of academic humiliation in there! Nothing better than repetition for a really fresh story...

Just a quick note as I'm not sure how common the knowledge is. In the UK, when the medical students finish their finals, they have to ensure everything has been signed off by August or they miss the year's placements. This can lead to a weird sort of gap between practice and finishing their degree.... Saying that, this is probably self-explanatory in the flash, but that probably doesn't even really matter as the entirety is just a bit of nonsense.....um... hopefully entertaining nonsense... Stalling Hannah stamped a heel and pouted glossed lips No, no nooo! This couldn’t be happening, not another year! She only had a few more minutes to get across the city and if she didn’t make it, she condemned herself to even longer in this awkward half-life. She was supposed to be entering her second year of practice, thinking about a specialty and instead she had stalled in this predicament. It had all started when she had met David. She hadn’t meant to talk to him. She usually had no time for men full stop, not when she had a career to build. But there had been something about those eyes, something so intangibly intriguing as he blatantly stared across the pretentious hole-in-the-wall bar that the intellectuals and pseudo-intellectuals so often frequented. Even now she cursed her own folly. Their relationship…. Well, sex life, had been a whirlwind of passion. Even she had to admit that the sweaty nights on the run-up to finals had been fun. Hannah realised she was breathing heavily again. Below the hem of her flippy little skirt she could feel a spreading warmth. A spreading wetness that just begged her hand with its pretty pink nails to- NO! She had to move! David hadn’t liked it when she spurned some of his more amorous advances…Well, commands that she suck his cock. But she knew he would be understanding. She had finals to prepare for and medical school was no cake-walk. Not like whatever he was doing, some bizarre offshoot of psychi… psyoch… Urgh! It was sooooo hard to remember all the medical words with an entire year’s gap in her learning! And such a distracting feelings from her…. So wonderfully… FOCUS! She had of course passed, with honours, as expected. All she had to do was wait for the exit interview, a formality in truth, before choosing pretty much whatever placement she wanted. It was only natural to break things off with David. She was going on to greater things, while he seem a perennial student. And besides, he had seemed more aggressive since she had told him she needed to focus on exams and her career, especially when he fucked her in pub toilets and she had to scream and moan like the slut she… HURRY! Hannah couldn’t believe it when she missed the exit interview, and the rescheduled one! With the August hospital placements approaching and then passing, she was in total limbo. But it was OK. David reminded her that she could simply kill time for a year and then just enter her training programme a year later. Of course, in the interim she would have to work. The student loans company was not going to accept excuses from a qualified doctor after all! And it was sooo good of Davey to set her up with that salon job. Teaze was not a place she would have thought to look, all gaudy pink neon, cheap hair dyes and fake nails. But then again he was really smart with that sort of thing, just like when he explained that she did like it in the ass because she was such a dirty little tart and that was why she wore such ridiculously short skirts because she liked it when men looked at her and thought about ramming their cocks into her soppin… MOVE!  Davey was right about so many things it seemed. Hannah really liked her new job, even if the wage barely touched her loan repayments, especially since she had to spend so much on the clothes Davey said she needed. Slutty clothes for a slutty girl. Of course, she just had to save other ways. Letting the new shampoo girl do her hair and makeup for the interview rather than paying at the classy salon she used to go to, for example. Hannah just wished it hadn’t taken so long. But then she should have realised that going such a brassy blonde shade, having it permed and combed out and all that hairspray just eats up time! And of course the pink nail polish had to dry! As her 5’’ heels clacked and her chest jiggled beneath her tiny Hello Kitty! top, Hannah knew she had to go! As much fun as she had at Teaze, she really couldn’t have another year there! For starters she was really starting to pick up some of the girls’ bad habits. She caught herself inserting ‘like’ and ‘totally’ into her speech patterns. She often adopted an insipidly vapid upward inflection unless she concentrated. She was more likely to discuss celebrity boob-jobs than literature these days! And of course, she was certain, surely she never chewed so much bubblegum when she was studying? But that was only a small concern next to her debt. Davey had let her move in with him and that was totally cool! But he did have a lot of house rules. The morning blowjob. The evening striptease. He had to approve everything she wore and that was when she wore anything at home. It was a regular thing for her to spend all of her free time, like, naked. Usually with a cock in her. Or one of the vibrators Davey said she had to, like, practice with. To make sure she remembered how lucky she was to be fucked so hard and so often like a proper little fucktoy. Of course, Hannah remembered. She loved it when Davey would not even speak to her, but just bend her over the kitchen counter and just push her little thong to one side and then pound her until her tits were hitting the faux-marble and her knees felt so weak and her moans and squeals had…. As the bottle blonde shuddered, she knew her little g-string was soaked.  She knew she stank of sex. One look at her Barbie watch told her she was late already.

You really are very good at these! Education, silicon, ID

Nellie was exhausted, after her final exam in sex technique and “flair”, but her day at the Exec2Sec Retraining School was not yet over.  She still had to report for her breast implants.  She’d been told during her first day that she would be going from a B to a double D, and she’d bought a 36DD bra and put a pair of water balloons in it to help her get used to them.

As Nellie sat, weary and disgusted and slightly loopy from the Valium she had been given to prepare her for surgery, she looked at the other woman, all of them also high on Valium, some even smiling.

A nurse in a ridiculously short white uniform and tiny white cap stuck her head out the door, saying, “Next!”

It was Nellie’s turn, so she wobbled to her feet, holding her heels in one hand because she knew she could never walk in heels while this stoned.  She stood aside to let the previous patient stagger out, careful not to brush against her no-doubt-tender new jugs.

She saw the surgeon washing up, for which she was grateful, took off her top and bra, took out the water balloons which she knew would be replaced by essentially the same thing, only underneath her skin.  She put a foot on the pedal of the wastebasket and was sickened to see bloody paper inside, but shook herself and continued to the table.

She looked on a sterile tray by the doctor’s hand and saw the rounded implants she had expected but also some small objects that looked like computer chips.

“Uh, Doctor, what are those flat gray things there?”

“Silicon chips,” he said flatly.  “They’ll help your bosses keep track of you.  I think they can even page you, but I’m not sure about that.  They just told me to put a chip underneath every implant we do.  Now, give our patient a little gas, won’t you, Suzie?”

The nurse lowered a rubber mask over Nellie’s mouth and nose and the world soon disappeared.