Caution: This story is extremely misogynistic. If you are likely to be offended, don't read it. Opinions expressed by the characters are not necessarily those of the author.
"What floor, Miss?" Jimmy asked, although it was obvious. Any conservatively dressed woman looking that angry could only be headed one place.
"32nd," she said tersely, "Bimbotech."
"Right away, Miss," said Jimmy pushing the appropriate button and discretely checking out his passenger: A bit on the skinny side with short brown hair. She was dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase.
"You don't work for them, do you?" she asked.
"No, Ma'am. I work for the building," he answered, "All the businesses between the 3rd floor and the penthouse lease."
"Do you know exactly what it is they do up there?" she asked.
"Well, near as I can tell, they're involved in some kind of plastic surgery or sumpin' like that. I don't get paid to ask questions."
"Hmmph!" she declared, Well I sure as hell have some questions. The first of which is who the hell put these damn fliers on the bulletin boards of my office!"
The flier she held was one Jimmy had seen before. "BIMBOTECH" it read in big hot pink letters over the kneeling silhouette of a babe with huge knockers. Underneath was the company logo: 'A Woman's Place is on Her Knees' along with their address there on the 32nd floor.
"I can see how you might find that offensive, Miss," Jimmy conceded.
"Might? My God, anyone who wasn't a complete Neanderthal would find it offensive!" she declared. "They have no right! No right at all! And I'm not going to stand for it! I'm not leaving until I speak to the president of the company and tell him exactly what I think of his disgusting advertising campaign!"
"Well Miss, I do hope you are able to get satisfaction Jimmy declared as the elevator came to a halt.
"32nd floor--Bimbotech Incorporated," he announced.
The woman shook her head and exited the elevator.
"Don't worry about a tip. You can get me on the way down." he called out as the closing doors occluded his view of her scrawny backside.
Jimmy checked his watch as he took the elevator down. 9:15. It usually took about 3 hours so she would be coming down just after his lunch break. Perfect.
There was no telling how many disgruntled women would be here to complain today; The numbers kept growing and at 67 Jimmy was too old to deal with them all. But one a day was certainly doable and first up was usually first down. Yes, a quarter after twelve would work just fine.
Sure enough, at 12:17 the bell rang. Someone on the 32nd floor was ready to go down.
Jimmy grinned at the woman as the doors opened. It was the first one from this morning, though he wouldn't have known it if he hadn't been expecting her. When Bimbotech first leased the 32nd floor, Jimmy had failed to make the connection for several days. He had found it odd that so many hot women were coming down from the 32nd floor when he never seemed to take them up. It couldn't have been that he just hadn't noticed them--these were not the sort of women you failed to notice! So Jimmy started making note of certain facial features and soon he was able to tell that the pissed off women going up were the same individuals as the much nicer women going down.
Take this one, for instance. Her facial features were pretty much unchanged. Well, at least not surgically, if what they did on the 32nd floor could be called surgery.
The face was different, though. Where on the way up it had been the face of a woman who was mad as hell, now it wore an expression of contentment. Clearly, she was in a much better mood. Also, she had had her make up redone, her lips, eyelids, and fingernails all painted a bright happy blue which matched her new attitude as well as her new outfit.
The business suit had been discarded, of course. It never would have fit over those huge luscious melons. The blue spandex halter top she wore now managed the job, though, with quite a bit of stretching. The matching miniskirt did the same with her padded and molded fanny. Blue stockings hung from garters and stretched along her molded legs to her delicate feet which were bound by the straps of her six inch platform heels.
Her hair was now long, wild, and platinum blonde and one of her fingers was twirled in it. She wore big dangly earrings of cheap blue plastic. Instead of the brief case, she carried a stack of fliers like the one she came in with.
The woman's voice had changed as well.
"Hi! I'm Trixi!" she exclaimed in a high, excited voice without even a hint of intelligence.
"Hello, Trixi," said Jimmy, "Do you want to get on the elevator?"
Trixi thought about that for a while.
"OK!" she decided and giggled.
Jimmy held a hand out for her and guided her in. It was a wonder she didn't topple with all that weight up top and the towering heels. The helium in her head probably helped.
"So, Trixi, were the folks at Bimbotech able to answer all of your questions?"
"Oh yeah! They are, like, so nice! I just love all of them to death! <giggle>"
"Yes, I find that most women like them once they get to know them," Jimmy observed.
"Yeah, <giggle> they, like, gave me a free tour and, like, free samples of _everything!_ <giggle>. I took two of some!"
"Yes, they're certainly very generous," Jimmy said.
"And were you able to meet their president?"
"Ohmygod! Yes! He, like, took me in his office and his cock is, like, so big! I took one look at it and I like completely forgot why I wanted to see him <giggle>!"
"Yes, that's been known to happen. I'm glad you were able to resolve your differences. What floor would you like?"
"Huh?" Trixi asked, confused.
"What number do you want to go to?" he asked, pointing to the elevator buttons.
Trixi stared in bewilderment at the numbers, then blinked and giggled.
"Math is tough!" she exclaimed.
"Yes, some people do find numbers to be difficult," Jimmy agreed. "So, do you want to go up or down?"
"Trixi likes to go down!" the blonde bimbo exclaimed.
"I bet she does!" Jimmy replied. He closed the doors, hit the emergency stop, and opened a small compartment where he kept a small pillow. The women didn't need it but it seemed a shame to ruin their brand new stockings.
"All right, Trixi," he said, dropping the pillow on the floor. "Be a good little bimboslut and make Jimmy happy.
"<giggle> Like, A woman's place is on her knees!" Trixi cheerfully quoted and ungracefully fell to her knees, causing her huge melons to bounce and jiggle.
The bimbo undid Jimmy's fly like it was the prettiest present on Christmas morning and squealed with delight when she found his wrinkled package wreathed in gray pubic hair.
"You like cock, don't you Trixi?" Jimmy asked.
"MmHmm!" the bimbo nodded emphatically, teasing his unit free of his underwear. "Trixi loves cock! Trixi is a cock-sucking, cum-drinking bimbo! <giggle!>"
So saying, she proceeded to lavish Jimmy's member with affection, kissing, licking, stroking, and kneading until he was as hard as he used to get back when he was twenty.
"That's right, you skanky little whore. Worship it," Jimmy instructed. "That's the only thing you're good for--servicing men's cocks and being a receptacle for spunk!"
"MmHmm!" Trixi agreed enthusiastically, then giggled, opened wide, and deep throated his hard member with a grunt of satisfaction. Jimmy had learned early on that the girls from Bimbotech got more excited about their slutty behavior the more he degraded them.