Bimbodoll Goes Jobhunting
Chapter One: Grocery Store
It was her first day on the job, and she was nervous.
She recalled the conversation with her Master as she walked towards the glass double doors, hearing them swoosh open automatically.
“You’ve been a very lazy bimbo lately,” he’d remarked, tutting seriously.
She’d felt herself flush with shame. It was true; she’d been sleeping in until noon, and spending most of her days lounging around, drinking endless cups of coffee, watching silly television, and more often than not, edging herself into a wet puddle of oblivion.
“It’s time for a change. I think you ought to get yourself a job.”
Well, when she’d spotted the bright red ‘Hiring’ in the window of the local supermarket, she figured this was as good a job as any. Master had approved, and so she’d dropped off a resume the next day. She’d been surprised to have an interview on the spot, and had been hired immediately—it seemed the manager took a liking to her, despite the fact that she’d never worked in a grocery store before.
He greeted her now near the double doors when she entered, quickly surveying her outfit—plain black leggings and a black t-shirt, just as he’d requested. Well, almost. He had asked her to wear black pants, but he supposed it was too late now to comment on the leggings.
“Wonderful. We’ll get you a smock—I’m afraid they’re not that fashionable, sorry—and get you into a lane!”
Her blue eyes widened a bit in surprise as she followed him towards the back of the store. A lane? Right away? Without any training?
He seemed to notice her expression and laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. It’s really easy—you literally just scan the item and put it in a bag. And take the customer’s money, of course—but most of that is done by machine, anyway. You won’t have to do any math, don’t worry,” he said, giving her a sidelong glance and a grin.
She blushed. Was it really that obvious that she was terrible at math?
Once she was outfitted in a particularly ugly and shapeless red smock with her name printed out across her left breast, she found herself positioned in a lane. Her manager recited the need-to-knows at a rapid-fire pace.
“The computer, the scanner—oh, you use this little pedal to make the lane move, yes, that’s right—and the bagging area. This is the debit machine—you’ve used one of these before, right? And that’s about it! Here’s the phone if you need a price check, or if you get into trouble. Okay, sweetheart?”
She found herself nodding dumbly, though she was still taking it all in. She’d watched half-asleep cashiers do this job before. How hard could it be?
She lifted the scanner and tested the trigger, prompting a little flash of red light. She blinked, the light still dancing a bit behind her eyes, dazing her, before she realized a customer was already queued up, peering at her expectantly.
“Oh. H-hello,” she said, lowering the scanner. He was an older man in his mid-forties with a shaved head and olive-toned skin, dressed in a dark blue wool coat. He had his debit card ready, an impatient twist to his mouth, and she hadn’t even started to scan his things. Hastily, she turned to the lane, grabbing the first item.
It was a cucumber, wrapped snugly in clingfilm. She fumbled with it for a long moment, her glossy red nails glinting in the harsh overhead lights as she searched for a bar code. She felt herself start to blush, feeling a bit flustered as she struggled to find it, forced to manhandle the distinctly phallic item over and over. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like, sliding inside of her. It wasn’t so large—maybe just as big as the average man’s cock. Maybe as big as this man’s cock? Her hand gripped it more firmly. “Uhm…”
“There,” the man said after a moment or two, pointing with his finger. Ah, of course. It was right there. She glanced up at him with a bashful smile and noticed that he wasn’t even looking at the item, but at her, with an expression of mingled irritation and disbelief. She hastily looked down again, biting her lip.
With a beep, and another flash of red light, she scanned the barcode. Her eyes lifted to check the computer screen. Cucumber, 1.99. For a moment, the numbers made absolutely no sense to her. Was that right? She stared, eyes glazing over slightly as she tried to figure it out, further confounded by the addition of tax and the total at the bottom.
The man in front of her cleared his throat.
She quickly placed the cucumber in the plastic bag and moved on to the next item. A tub of low-fat yogurt, and then a bag of apples—which she nearly sent tumbling all over the floor—and finally, a box of granola and some carrots. Beep, flash of red. Beep, flash of red. By the time the man swiped his debit card and went bustling and huffing away, she felt as though she’d been scanning his order for hours, her head feeling a bit fuzzy. A small line of people had already formed at her lane, and the next customer was a younger man, maybe 30 or so. He had a slight tilt to his smile, looking faintly amused as he approached. Had he been watching her struggle with the last order?
“Hi there,” he said, slowly, gently, as though speaking to a small animal. She smiled back at him, feeling a giggle bubble up out of her throat. “Hi!”
“First day?” he asked, and she responded with another somewhat bashful giggle, nodding at him.
“Yeah… oh god, is it that obvious?”
He laughed. “Yup.”
She felt her cheeks warm in a bright blush as she began to scan his items. A box of cereal, a bag of brussel sprouts, some red peppers, another cucumber. Flash, flash, flash… she hesitated a bit once she had the cucumber poised in her hand to scan and he laughed again, making her blink and look up, slightly dazed.
“I saw you struggled with that one last time… remember, the bar code is right here,” he said, pointing. She noticed he was grinning at her wolfishly now, his eyes seemingly staring straight past the ugly, bag-like smock and admiring her figure underneath, tracing over her curves. He even leaned his weight to the right slightly to get a better look at her ass, outlined snugly in the black leggings. She flushed.
“Why don’t you be a good girl and scan that one, now,” he suggested, his eyes shifting back to meet hers.
She pressed down on the trigger and saw the familiar red flash again, her eyelids drooping slightly, expression slackening.
“Why is this one so hard for you, I wonder?” he asked aloud. “I don’t think it scanned properly… try again.”
Flash.
“Again…”
Flash.
“Ah, woops… looks like there are too many, now.”
She blinked, slowly turning to look at the computer screen. There were now at least four cucumbers tallied up. She didn’t know how to remove them.
“That’s okay. You can just manually enter the price into the debit machine, right?” the man suggested helpfully. “So, each cucumber is 1.99… plus tax, of course, which is 13 percent… so you just have to multiply that by 4, and subtract it from the total, which is 12.53…”
She found herself staring at the computer screen blankly as he spoke, the numbers swirling before her eyes as she strained to make sense of them. He wasn’t helping, his voice and the numbers he said mixing her up each time she got closer to making sense of it all, until she realized with a start that her manager was tapping her on the shoulder.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice laced with irritation. “Your line hasn’t moved for the past ten minutes!”
She shook herself out of her reverie, realizing with embarrassment that a rivulet of drool was running down the corner of her mouth, and dripping from her chin onto her smock. She turned to look at the customer in front of her and saw that he was still grinning.
“And you’ve rung up this cucumber… what, seven times? Alright, that’s it… return the smock to the break room. I don’t think this is the job for you, sweetheart,” her manager said impatiently, leading her by the shoulders and shuffling her out of the way. The line beyond the man in front of her was full of flustered, angry faces, some of them jeering, others just annoyed. They seemed surprised that a young woman could be such a slow dummy, especially at such an easy job.
Mortified, she hastily made her way to the back of the store, flung off the smock, and disappeared out the back exit, feeling a bit tearful as she sent her Master a text message.
“I got fired already… the manager was mean, and it was really hard to figure out the computer and all the codes and everything…”
His response was almost immediate. “Aw, that’s okay, bimbodoll. I’m sure you’ll find something else soon. I think that job just had way too many hard numbers involved, right? You know what numbers do to your silly bimbo brain.”
She nodded. Master was right. She’d just have to keep looking.