The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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 she might 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 have got to get more of these built.”

“Talk to Phillip. He’s the one monopolizing the techs with body-mod stuff. I say we should figure out the cause of the recidivism first and then play with morphology at our leisure. Granted, change of appearance can certainly help maintain the altered persona, but I think the root of the recidivism is from failing to lay a deeply ingrained foundation. I blame the Potassium Ditzolin. I think it suppresses the learning centers to a point that permanent change is difficult. Yes, it makes them open to suggestion, but those suggestions remain largely in short term memory. I think breaking through resistance with conversation and the stimulator is going to have the best results in the long run.”

“Well, we’ll have to get you a couple girls to test your theory. Mail-order brides might be a useful source. This spicy morsel came in answer to a help wanted add.” Mr. Fink said.

“But I don’t want a job,” Arianna clarified. “I just need my paper! <giggle>”

“I’d let her sober up and let you try it on her, but I want to get her processed and out the door quick in case she told anyone where she was going.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me if she reverts on you,” said glasses man.

“Oh, I have a good feeling about this one,” said Mr. Fink. “You like the Ditzolin, don’t you Miss? You’re a natural Mexican bimbo!”

“I’m not Mexican, I’m Dominican, damn it!” she said automatically. It was a sore spot with her. And what the hell was he doing anyway? And why was the blonde woman all…

“Ow!” she said as she felt a prick in her ass. More pink goo gurgled and popped through her head.

“And a feisty little Dominican bimbo you are!” Mr. Fink said. “That’s okay. I like feisty. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of you getting what you really need.”

“My paper?” she asked.

Mr. Fink just chuckled.

He led her into a large cluttered room filled with half-assembled devices and where several men were scurrying about, trying to put things together. Four men stood around a tank of green goo. A slender South-east Asian woman floated in it grinning as if she had been drugged to near unconsciousness.

“Hey, Mr. Fink!” called out the voice of a young man with a Portuguese accent.

“Yes Ruiz?” Fink asked.

“Who is she? I don’t think I met her before,” said the young man, looking her up and down.

“I just need my paper signed,” Arianna explained, then giggled. Ruiz was cute! Arianna hadn’t realized just how horny she was. Her panties were damp!

“She wandered in at an inopportune moment,” Fink clarified.

“Can I try something on her?” the young man asked. “Everybody else is working with the tank, but I’ve come up with an alternative technology that should be able to use air as a medium.”

“Really? Well, that could be useful. You don’t mind playing guinea pig, do you Arianna?”

“I’m confused,” said Arianna.

“Of course you are,” he said, poking her in the ass again.

As pink bubbles fizzed through her brain, she became slightly more confused but much more okay with that. She giggled. Mr. Fink was kind of cute too. And Ruiz was gorgeous!

“My dream is to develop a hand-held version,” Ruiz enthused “But what I got right now weighs about 40 lbs. If you could just get her to stand in front of the bench about 3 feet away from it, I can see if it works.”

“All right then. The tank is working great so far, but BimboTech is all about innovation! That’s what we decided to call the place, by the way. BimboTech Inc.”

“Great name, sir!” said the technician. “I’m proud to be a BimboTech man!”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Mr. Fink asked as he guided Arianna to stand in front of a squat metal box with a flashlight sticking out of it.

“Alright then,” said the technician. “Magic time.”

He flipped a switch and the flashlight gave off a dull purple glow and a low hum. Arianna’s nipples became immediately hard and pointy. Her breasts started tingling in a way that felt very, very nice. She giggled.

“Oh sweet! I think its working!” said Ruiz.

Then her bra started feeling tight. It was annoying at first, but she felt so good otherwise it didn’t matter. But then the straps started cutting into her flesh.

“Ow!” she complained.

“Oh shit. She’s wearing a bra isn’t she,” Ruiz said, shutting the machine off.

“Of course she’s wearing a bra, Idiot! And you knew it! You check out every pair of tits that walks through here in detail. What did you think, she was just going to explode out of her clothes?”

“Um,… I kind of hoped…” said the young man sheepishly.

“Idiot!” said Fink. “She’s perfectly willing to let us take it of the normal way.”

Soon they had her sweater off and Mr. Fink managed to remove her bra with the help of a pair of pliers that he used to break the back clasp. After that, there was nothing but goodness when the purple light came back on.

“My boobies feel so good! <giggle>” she said. “Ay Dios mio! They’re getting bigger! <giggle> Big big boobies! Ay! So nice!”

“You see!” Ruiz said. “Isn’t it the greatest?”

“It’s nice, but the tank can do the same thing,” Fink said.

“Not like this! They’ll be much more sensitive with this, I’m sure of it! I bet she’d cum if you tittiefucked her now!”

“Well, maybe. I’m getting some new girls for Doug Corbin to try something different on. Just with their brains. When he’s done, I’ll let you do a tit to tit comparison, tank vs. this gizmo.”

“Isn’t there someone else I could try it on now?” Ruiz asked. “What about Tamara?”

“Tittiefuck!” Mr. Fink reprimanded.

“Yeah, yeah, Tittiefuck!” Ruiz corrected. “With a name like that she should have the best tits in the company, am I right? Let me make them bigger! It’ll be great!”

“Huh!” Fink sighed. “I’m having a hard time finding clothes for her as it is now! But what the hell.”

“All right!” Ruiz exclaimed. “You won’t regret it, sir!”

“Now why don’t you kill that thing while she can still remain upright,” Fink said.

“Oh yeah!” said Ruiz. “Here you go. God those are beautiful.”

He switched off the machine, but the good feeling didn’t stop. This was because Arianna was still kneading her now volley-ball size tits with both hands, milking the engorged nipples and getting multiple orgasms for her efforts. She was barely aware of what was going on around her.

“You know, I don’t know if I need to wait for the tank,” Fink said. “She’s quite a sight with just the knockers. The ass she came in with is fine. Tease her hair a bit and slut-up her make-up and I think we’ve got a BimboTech girl! I’ll just give her instructions to come back from time to time. No saying we have to change everything at once.”

“We could even make her bigger!” Ruiz commented.

“You really should have someone look at that obsession of yours, Ruiz,” said Fink. “There’s more to life than titties.”

“Yeah, but nothing nearly so nice!” said Ruiz.

Mr. Fink called Tittiefuck and she came to the body shop. She helped Arianna with her hair and makeup, and then Mr. Ruiz showed her the booby growing machine. She liked it as much as Arianna had and by the time Mr. Fink made Ruiz turn it off, Tittiefuck could just barely reach her own nipples. With the men’s encouragement, the receptionist and Arianna mashed their new titties together. It felt wonderful! They both giggled.

But then the blonde woman came in, sucking her finger, along with glasses man.

“I’m done with the chair, George,” he said. “Candyass needs to suck dick and mines available. We’ll be in my office.”

“I just can’t help it!” Candyass explained to them, then giggled, put her finger back in her mouth and followed the glasses man, swaying her ass from side to side with every step.

“All right then, Miss,” Fink said to Arianna. “Let’s go get you taken care of.”

“You’re going to sign my paper?” she asked.

“Some call it that,” said Fink.

“B-bye!” Tittiefuck called to her.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again, T.F.,” said Fink. “But she’ll be a whole new woman!”

Fink took her back to the room with the chair. He sat her down and strapped her in. The red sucking-piece was gone, but the leads that attached to her head were still there. He put them in place. It wasn’t unpleasant. Nothing was unpleasant to Arianna at that moment. Though she did wish she could still hold her titties. She was starting to be able to think a bit more clearly, though she was still insanely happy.

“At last we can talk! So am I right in understanding you don’t want us to hire you Arianna?” Fink asked as he flipped switches and adjusted dials.

“Yeah! I mean, no! I mean <giggle> God I’m so confused. I came here to, like, get somebody to sign my paper so I can have money.”

“But Arianna, with those new titties of yours, all you have to do is dance around in a G-string and men will throw money at you!”

There was a strange buzzing at the back of her skull. It felt nice. She pictured herself showing off her new titties. He was right!

“<Giggle> Yeah, they’re really big now, huh? and they feel...ummmm <giggle> god that’s distracting.”

Fink was gently rubbing her knew knockers. She blushed.

“What was I saying?”

“You were saying how much you like your new titties. They’re called ChiChis in Spanish, aren’t they?”

“No, I mean, yes, but, I ...I wasn’t...I was saying that...”

The man’s hands had replaced her own and began kneading and tweaking and her brain became more and more mushy. She reached up to grab his wrists but somehow missed and found she was fondling her own breasts again. There was ample room for her hands and his.

“I think chichis is a nice name for them don’t you?” said Mr. Fink.

“Niiiice,” she repeated, then giggled as her pussy somehow found another gush of wetness to send pantie-ward.

“In fact, it’s such a nice name, maybe that could be your stripper name?” he continued, taking one hand off her tit just long enough to set a device against her crotch that throbbed and pulsed deliciously. “Imagine all the men that would pay to see ChiChi’s chichis? You could make much more money stripping than you could ever get from unemployment. Lots of luscious girls with luscious tits support themselves through college that way. Why don’t you try it out? Say, ‘Hi, my name’s ChiChi!”

“<Giggle> That’s silly!” she protested.

“Oh, it’s not so silly, once you get used to the idea. It could be fun. You’re a girl who likes to have fun, aren’t you ChiChi?”

“Well, yeah, I mean…giggle…fun is like, fun, and…”

“And you are a fun girl, ChiChi!” Mr. Fink said. “Everyone likes you because you’re fun, ChiChi! And you have fun chichis!”

He squeezed her nipples and she squeaked.

“They are fun chichis, aren’t they?” he pressed.

“Fun chichis!” she agreed.

Fink pushed a button and a tremendous wave of pleasure ran up her spine to explode behind her eyes. She giggled.

“Now try saying ‘My name is ChiChi,’ just for fun. I promise it will be fun, ChiChi.”

“My name is ChiChi,” she said, then looked at the button.

He pushed it and held.

“Wheeeeee!” she exclaimed. “My name is ChiChi!”

She was overwhelmed with giggles.

“That’s a good little bimbo, ChiChi!” Mr. Fink praised. “You’re a good little bimbo, aren’t you?”

“I am?” she asked, then remembered the button. “Oh yeah! I am! I’m a good little bimbo!”

He pushed the button that took her to happy land again.

“Yes you are. You know how to work your hot, sexy body to get what you want,” said Mr. Fink, adjusting a dial as the buzzing at the base of her skull got stronger. “You have no shame about showing off those fine chichis of yours. You’re proud of your chichis. You love your chichis. You want the world to love your chichis!”

“ChiChi wants to show her chichis!” ChiChi agreed.

“And why do you want to show your chichis, ChiChi?” Fink asked.

“Um, cuz…cuz it’s fun?” she asked.

“ChiChi is right again!” he said, pushing the happy button.

She squealed with delight. She liked being right.

“But it’s not just fun, ChiChi. It’s sexy. Very sexy to show your sexy chichis! When men see your big melons, they’ll get horny. Very, very horny.”

ChiChi giggled.

“Yeah!” she agreed.

“And what happens get when men get horny, ChiChi? What happens when your titties make them horny?”

“They, um, they get like…really hard,” she said, as distracting images of naked men filled her mind.

“What part gets hard, Arianna?” Mr. Fink asked, turning a knob that kicked the probe at her crotch into overdrive.

“Their…penis…virga….cock! Big, hard cock!” she stammered.

“And ChiChi loves cock, right? Big, hard cock! ChiChi needs it! Needs cock! Needs dick! Needs them inside her! She dreams of cock. She lives for cock!”

A hundred hard, insistent cocks danced an obscene ballet in her imagination.

“ChiChi horny! ChiChi want cock!” she shouted.

Fink hit two buttons and ChiChi’s cunt sang while her brain exploded in happy pink fireworks. She screamed in ecstasy.

When she could stop drooling, Mr. Fink explained a number of other things to her, about things she needed, things she wanted, things she liked to do.

He explained how much she liked sex with girls. This came as a bit of a surprise to ChiChi, but he reminded her how fun it was rubbing her chichis with Tittiefuck’s big melons, how horny it had made her. And when Mr. Fink explained that her bisexual activity would make more men horny for her and get her more cock, she was sold!

At last, Mr. Fink explained how she could always trust the nice people at BimboTech. That if she was ever confused about things, she could always come back there. That at BimboTech, she always felt good, always felt happy. Everything he said was true, of course. He was soooo nice. And sexy! She hoped her chichis were making him hard.

He hit the happy button one last time, then undid her straps as she giggled and quivered.

“Now, I have two things for you, my Hispanic hottie!” said Fink. “Your unemployment form, which I signed, if you really still want it, and this business card for Jiggles, a strip club near your campus. The owner is a friend of mine, Percy, and he always needs more bimbo hotties. I guarantee you’ll make more money from shaking what you got than you’ll ever get from the government. Percy will have other ideas on how you can make money too.”

“Like what, Mr. Fink?” she asked.

“Oh, lets just have that be a surprise. But I guarantee you’ll love it.”

ChiChi took the paper and the card, looked at both, then tossed the form over her head and giggled. Mr. Fink was right! It wouldn’t get her near as much money as stripping would. Besides, it didn’t even have her right name on it!

“You’re so nice Mr. Fink!” she said. “Can I thank you for all you done for me?”

“How would you like to thank me, ChiChi?” he asked.

“With my chichis!” she exclaimed, holding them out to him.

“Well, that would be appropriate,” he agreed.

He laid her out on a couch that was there in the room. Just as she hoped, his dick was big and hard and felt heavenly between her chichis. She squeezed them around his hard shaft and cooed and giggled as its lovely head peaked out from between her tits again and again. She playfully licked at it whenever it poked out. This was something she could get used to!

She squealed as at last his cock pulsed and quivered and began to plaster her face and chichis with hot man chowder. Just as Mr. Fink had told her, she loved it! The feel, the taste, the slickery goodness! She felt like the bimbo slut she always wanted to be!

“You look beautiful with my cum all over you,” Mr. Fink observed.

“Thank you Mr. Fink!” she said. “I luv it! <giggle>”

“Well, let’s find your sweater. It won’t fit so well, but we can stretch it enough that its street-legal. I really do need to get some sort of wardrobe department here.”

“That would be cool!” ChiChi said. “I love sexy, slutty bimbo clothes!”

Mr. Fink had told her so.

“Of course you do. Say, before you go see Percy at Jiggles, do you think you could do me a favor?”

“You want to fuck me somewhere else?” she asked hopefully.

“OK, two favors,” he said with a smile. “Before I fuck you again, though, I need you to go to a boutique I know of and get a new outfit for Tittiefuck. We don’t have anything here that will come close to holding those monster tits Ruiz gave her. You can get an outfit for yourself as well. I’ll call ahead with my credit card info. I never give plastic to bimbos. You hurry back with the outfits and I’ll give you the best fuck of your short bimbo existence!”

ChiChi squealed with delight. She couldn’t imagine how this day could go any better. New name, new chichis, new clothes, and a second helping of cock!

She followed Mr. Fink back to find her sweater. They took a few pictures of her facial before wiping it off. Then they managed to stuff her new chichis into her old top. It rode up a hands-breath above her bellybutton now.

They found Tittiefuck back in the reception area on the floor, proving that she was appropriately named with Ruiz.

“Take a breather, Ruiz,” said Fink. “We need T.F.’s new measurements and I don’t want your spunk on my measuring tape.”

“Oh, but I’m so close!” Ruiz protested.

“I could suck you off!” ChiChi volunteered.

“Oh, well, uh, that would be okay then,” he said.

His cock was as nice as Mr. Fink’s! It was different—shorter but thicker and uncircumcised. It was a different color too. She really like how it felt, pressing down her throat as he gripped the sides of her head. She wondered how Mr. Fink’s would feel doing that. Or that one guy in the apartment across the hall from her. She would have to find out is she was going to be the cock expert she wanted to be!

Ruiz went off quickly, but she didn’t mind. The spunk tasted wonderful and she didn’t loose a drop! He helped her up, Mr. Fink gave her a paper with Tittiefuck’s new measurements, and she kissed the topless receptionist goodbye with plenty of tongue on both bimbos parts. Someone groped her chichis while she did it, but she wasn’t sure who. Not that she cared. It was all good.

“Get some lube too,” Fink told her as she left. “We’ll need it.”

She walked out into the bright sunlight, a perpetual horny giggle ringing through her mind. Half a dozen men did a double take at her chichis. It was a beautiful day.

ChiChi’s first (and as it turned out, last) semester at college was the stuff of legends. A decade later, drunken frat boys would still tell their unbelieving peers the stories in reverent tones. There wasn’t a party within ten miles of campus she didn’t show up at and once she showed up, every party goer was nearly guaranteed to get off.

Her stripping, and later hooking, paid for her tuition and an infinite series of slutty outfits, with plenty leftover to buy beer and liquor. She was nearly as generous with the booze as with her body.

When she did attend class, she often did so drunk and usually ended up sucking off some lucky student or row of students rather than taking notes. Somehow, she made it through half a semester without being expelled, though she did spend hours in professors’ offices being reprimanded for her disruptive behavior. Often they would reprimand her in more than one hole.

The frat boys also told with devilish glee about the female humanities professor who had her thrown out of class by campus security. ChiChi had somehow managed to have the professor drugged out of her mind and then led her on a three day bisexual marathon, the photographs of which made the professor disinclined to seek further disciplinary action.

By midterms, it was looking like she might just have passed with a generous C minus average when her luck finally ran out.

She had never actually made it to her geography class. It was at 8 in the morning, a time when she usually found herself passed out in a puddle of beer and/or jism. All she knew about the professor was that he was male, which seemed quite enough to know.

It was only after her standard offer in his office for a tit fuck in exchange for a passing test score that it slowly dawned on her that he was a raging homosexual with a deep dislike of girl sex.

Once ChiChi realized her mistake, it was too late. To make matters worse, the professor didn’t go to the Dean, who was more than a little familiar with ChiChi’s ass, but instead to the Dean’s bulldog of a wife, who was close friends with the queer professor. At his wife’s watchful insistence, the Dean had no choice but to suspend ChiChi. With his wife and the professor in the room, he couldn’t even fuck her goodbye!

No longer a student, ChiChi figured her best option was to get a job. Stripping and hooking were great, of course, but was either really a career? She had had higher aspirations when she first applied to college…

And thus it was that she found herself back in the reception room of BimboTech, Inc., wearing her best red vinyl halter top with matching hotpants and black platform pleather boots. She had come back a number of times since that first chaotic day, of course, but only to chat with Tittiefuck, who had become both her friend and fuckbuddy, or to try out the new toys and gadgets and drugs the clever, horny men were always perfecting. This time, though, she was a bimbo with a mission.

“Mr. Fink?” said Tittiefuck, pressing the big yellow button on her consul. “ChiChi is here. She wants to ask you something.”

“Oh really? Send her right in!” said the voice of Mr. Fink on the intercom.

ChiChi stood, butterflies in her stomach, and adjusted her namesakes in their halter.

“How do I look?” she asked Tittiefuck.

“Absolutely fuckable!” said the receptionist.

“Oh good!” she exclaimed, and strode purposefully into Mr. Fink’s office.

Mr. Fink was very sympathetic when ChiChi explained her situation. Naturally, she worked her titties and other assets to full advantage as she asked if there was a place for her at BimboTech, Inc.

“Well, ChiChi, you know we all adore you here,” Mr. Fink explained. “But I’m afraid I can’t just offer you a job just because you’ve fucked just about every one in the place at least once. I’m afraid you’ll have to go through the complete interview process.”

“Oh, well, um, okay,” said ChiChi, somewhat disappointed.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Mr. Fink, grabbing a blue atomizer from his desk. “I’m sure you’ll do quite well. You’ve had plenty of practice.”

He took a squirt up each nostril and inhaled deeply. His eyes became fierce, predatory, and slightly unfocused. The most dramatic effect, however, was lower down, as ChiChi soon saw.

“Of course, the first step in the process is for you to get on your knees and beg for it, like the cock-hungry bimbo you are!” he said, unveiling his massive, engorged prick.

“Oh god yes!” said ChiChi, realizing that this was one job interview she was very much prepared for.

An hour and a half later, ChiChi staggered back into the reception area having been thoroughly and roughly interviewed for every bimbo position a bimbo at BimboTech might find herself in. Jism dripped and glistened from a dozen places. Her face was plastered with a hyper-fucked grin.

“I did it, Tittiefuck!” she announced. “I’m a BimboTech girl!”

The two bimbos were overcome with a tirade of happy squeals and giggles.