Author's note: Chronologically speaking, this is the earliest BimboTech story to date (November 2005). All the characters have appeared in other BimboTech stories, but those stories come later. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into the rough beginnings of what became the greatest female-modification company in the world! Comments welcomed.
There was a man scraping off the painted name on the door of Millennial Innovations Incorporated when Arianna got to the 32nd floor. The pretty young Dominican-American's heart fell. She just needed to fill out one more job application in order to get her unemployment check for that week. She was sure this would be her last stop—the help wanted add clearly showed she was under qualified for the position, so she would be sure not to get the job. It was perfect!
But now the research and development firm seemed to have gone belly up. Still, on the chance that he was just changing the design, she asked:
"Did they close down?"
"Oh, no. They're still in there—some of them at least," said the maintenance man. "Had some sort of hostile takeover. Big shake up in the management. Changing the name of the company and everything."
"Oh," said Arianna, brightening. They definitely wouldn't want a new hire after just changing management. They were probably still in that confused state where no one is exactly sure who is supposed to be doing what. Maybe someone would sign her form without her even having to fill out an application! "What are they called now?"
"Didn't say," said the man. "I'm not sure they even know yet. They said they'd tell me once I had the door ready to paint."
"Well, can I go in?" she asked. "I'm answering a help wanted add."
"Suit yourself," he said, stepping aside.
Arianna tucked a rebellious long curly strand of hair behind her ear and smoothed down her burgundy sweater. She didn't want the job at that point, but who could say after she graduated? She might as well make a good impression. She went in to the yet-to-be-named office.
There at the reception desk was a rather busty black woman. She was showing an unseemly amount of cleavage for an office, dressed in light purple jumper that seemed too small for her endowments. Her makeup looked like it had been applied by a 12 year old. She was staring off into the distance, chewing on the end of a pen, looking very perplexed by something.
"Hi," said Arianna. "I wanted to apply for the analyst's position?"
The black woman jumped in her seat. She looked at Arianna with shocked befuddlement.
"Oh, uh... hi!" she said. "Do I know you? Do you... know me?"
"I don't think so," said Arianna. "I've never been here before. You are the receptionist, right?"
"The receptionist?" she asked, even more confused--"Oh yeah! That was it! I was... I was, like... promoted? Promoted to receptionist from my old job when my name was... what was my name?"
She looked at Arianna, eyes begging for information, guidance.
"Did you, uh, get married or something?" Arianna asked, it being the only reason she could think of for changing her name, though why she would forget it, she couldn't guess. The woman seemed to be having some sort of breakdown.
"Not married, no... no time for marriage... was working hard to... to get promoted... to receptionist? So hard to remember... so hard to think..."
"Look, I can see you've got some things to deal with, so I won't waste your time," Arianna said, "If you could just sign this form saying that I filled out a job application, I can get unemployment."
Arianna handed her the form. The woman stared at the form in confused horror.
"Sign my... my name?" she asked. "My name... my name is... T... T... tittiefuck. OOH!"
Her eyes rolled back in her head and she shuddered as her face went from one of perplexed angst to utter bliss.
She giggled and dropped the form. It slipped under the desk.
"Whoopsie!" she exclaimed. "I'm such a silly bimbo!"
The confusion, or rather her concern over it, seemed to have passed as she giggled uncontrollably.
"Um, maybe I should just go," said Arianna, more than a little creeped out. But she had to get her form back. It already had four signatures!
"If I could just, um, get that back," she said.
When the woman didn't respond, Arianna went around her desk to try and retrieve it herself. She was shocked to see she was stroking her crotch with urgent fingers.
"Everything o.k. in here T.F.?" said a smartly-dressed man coming out of an office. "Oh! We have company! I'm sorry, miss--the company is in a bit of an upheaval at the moment. T.F. here is still getting used to the receptionist job. I'm George Fink, the new CEO. Maybe I can help you?"
The predatory gleam in his eye made Arianna think the last thing he was interested in was helping her. She was beyond creeped out now. She was genuinely afraid.
"I just... need my form," she explained, taking advantage of the receptionist's distraction to snatch it from beneath her desk. "I'll come back later... when you're settled."
"Oh nonsense!" the man declared. "We're always ready to help out a fine young woman like yourself here at BimboTech Inc. What did you come in for?"
"Nothing, I just... BimboTech?" she asked, incredulous.
"Yes, it's our new name. I just came up with it. You like? How can BTI be of service to you?"
"I just..." she said, backing towards the door, "I saw the help wanted add, but, I really don't want a job. I'm starting college in a month and so I'm really just wasting your time. I'll be going now."
She turned and took four quick steps to the door.
It didn't open.
"I'm sorry," the man said from right behind her. Arianna jumped. She hadn't heard him following her at all. "As part of our new security measures, no unauthorized exiting is allowed."
"Unauthorized exiting? What the hell does that mean?" she demanded, eyes darting for escape.
"It means that I insist you not leave until you try out some of our new products!" he explained, grabbing hold of her upper arm.
"Hey! Get your hands... Ow! You stuck me!" she exclaimed.
"Just a little bit," he explained. "You'll forget all about it in no time."
"What do you mean I'll... I'll... Hey what was that? I feel all... all..."
"All bimbo!" the receptionist exclaimed. "Every woman is a bimbo inside! Mr. Fink just helps the bimbo come out so we can be happy happy happy!!! <giggle>"
"Happy?" Arianna asked. She did feel strangely happy for a woman who was being held against her will. "But I didn't come to get happy... I came for the job... but I don't want the job... cuz I just want money... cuz... oh god, it's so confusing! <giggle> I feel funny!"
As Arianna's brain scrambled futiley for something to grab hold of in the slippery pink goo into which it had plunged, Mr. Fink led her with a hand on her arm and another on her ass deeper into the office complex.
He took her into a room where a squat, round-faced man with glasses sat in front of a naked blonde woman. It occurred to Arianna that she should find this disturbing, but somehow she found it funny. The blonde's arms and legs were strapped to her chair and she was anxiously sucking at a cherry-red rod held in front of her face by a metal scaffold. There were wires attached to her head.
"You see, Candyass, you really can't help yourself," the man was explaining in a very patient, reasonable voice. "You're addicted. You're obsessed. You have an oral fixation that overwhelms every other desire you might once have had. You need to suck cock the way other women need water. You want to eat pussy the way other women want chocolate. You know in your soul that it's what you want. That it's what you need. That you just can't help but give in to these incredible urges you've developed."
"MmmHmm," said the blonde, glassy-eyed and trembling as she somehow managed to suck even harder at the red mouthpiece.
"Sorry to interrupt, Doug," said Mr. Fink. "You about done with the chair?"
"I think she needs another twenty minutes, I'm afraid," said the glasses man. "She's been relapsing a bit."
"Yeah, Tamara could probably use a booster session as well," said Mr. Fink.
"George! Please! TIT-TEE-FUCK!" said glasses man. "How can we expect them to embrace their new names if you go around using the old ones?"
"Well, I don't in front of her, of course," Mr. Fink said defensively.
"Our V.P. is no more!" glasses man insisted. "There is only the receptionist Tittiefuck. Just like this little morsel is Candyass, aren't you Candyass?"
"Mmmmeh?" said the naked blonde.
"Of course you're Candyass! That other woman never got to suck cock. And you need to suck cock, don't you Candyass?
"MmmHmm!" she agreed.
"You can't even remember that other woman's life, can you Candyass? When you start thinking about her and her boring life, the thoughts get driven away by thoughts of sucking cock. Fellatio is always on your mind, Candyass. You just can't help it. It's a fixation. You don't have the will to change. You love it so much! It makes you so happy! How could you ever stop? You just can't help it!"
"MmHmm, MmmHmmm!" the blonde agreed.
"I'll bring this one back in 20 then," said Mr. Fink. "We havegotto get more of these built."
.... There is more of this story ...