Everyone Who Reblogs This Will Get A Personalized Hypnotic Erotic GIF Based On What I See On Your Profile.

Still amazing! Handwriting, decor, perception.

[Hah, trying to stump me, are you?]

Nadine looked up from her struggle to decipher her boss’s handwriting – if it stumped the scanner’s software, you knew it was some serious henscratching – and looked around the office.

She’d rather be sitting at a desk out in front of what had once been her office, or even in the glaringly pink steno pool, but Frank preferred to keep her at her “perch”, as he liked to put it, in the corner.

I suppose “perch” is appropriate, since I’m basically being kept here are a pet….

He still used her old desk.  He’d replaced her black desktop with a bright red laptop with the USMC emblem (on the strength of the company having a military contract, not because he had ever served himself).

Unlike me – I paid for college with my Airman’s salary.

Company lawyers had persuaded a judge that her degrees and award certificates were “office decor” and therefore company property, so that she couldn’t reclaim them.  He had already used up her Bachelor’s and her Master’s, so now it was an award the manufacturers’ association had given her that he had placed at the center of his dartboard.

He’d have destroyed them a lot faster if he’d placed them below and to the right of the bullseye … .

Exceptional, as always! How about: giggle, dumber, memo?

When she opened her in-house message account, there was one item marked Highest Priority:

Meredith:  In reply to your query of yesterday, the answer is that yes, the requirement that you giggle periodically during any conversation you carry out at work is indeed intended to make you seem “dumber” than you really are.  If you keep going out of your way to show off the fact that you are smarter than our CEO (and just between the two of us, you are – you’re also smarter than me, and probably everyone else on the Board of Directors), you damage the reputation of the company.  So from now on, yes, giggle at least once every two minutes, regardless of the subject matter or with whom you are conversing.

In a related matter, it is high time you chose a work-appropriate nickname for yourself.  I can’t very well call your peers “Lulu” and “Babs” and “Deedee” and then call you “Meredith,” now can I?  I suggest you try one of these: Merry, Mare, Mimi or Edie.

Choose one, or have it chosen for you.

–  Bob

Now this is a stunning bit of writing! Academic humiliation is such an underutilised element in bimboization and one of my absolute favourites! My only ‘criticism’ would be that I would love to see it expanded more - new instructions for spelling, elocution, vocabulary, maths... Really force the new image home and maybe get the girl to fail a few entry level courses for good measure!

Star hadn’t always been like this. At one point she had been a rising academic star. Up and coming in the history department she was starting to attract international attention. Unfortunately she annoyed the wrong donor. It wasn’t hard for him to seduce her. For all of her take charge attitude with her students, in bed she was eagerly submissive. And from there the teasing began.

The daily edging sessions she recorded and sent to him from her office. The teasing of her when they were alone. The little text messages she got telling her to do naughty things like take a nude photo of herself in the deans office. All of it just made her wet and wanting. And over time that built up. Her students noticed she was less focused, less put together at the end of the semester.

The constant teasing and edging was making her mind fuzzy. If she hadn’t had a detailed lesson plan she would have been unable to continue. But winter break was coming up and hopefully her new master would let her cum soon. While they were together at his ski lodge, he made her be his maid the whole time. Using her holes, making her suck him off. Even making her watch as he fucked another woman in front of him.

She was in tears for need, for seeing him fuck someone else, seeing how hard he made her cum was just too much for her. And she begged and pleaded. Speaking without really knowing what she was saying. He told her he had a fantasy about making a professor end her career. So into the camera she spoke. Telling the world, falsely, that her doctoral thesis was plagiarized.

That she had fucked the Dean in his office to secure her teaching position. That she had an inappropriate relationship with a student. That she was a fraud and a fake. Her eyes glazed over with need as she admitted that she had even falsified her high school transcripts in an effort to get into school.

She masturbated furiously to the idea, so happy she had made her new master happy. So happy to please him. And she didn’t think of the tape he made until Monday night. Where he didn’t have her kneeling between his legs during the game. But sitting on his lap, stroking her clit as he told her she had something important to tell her.

The panties he had made her take off and throw out…had been picked up by a student faithfully. One just a bit obsessed with her. And that the Dean loved his memento photograph of her from their tryst in his office. A happy memory before he retired. Star was very confused right up until the news began. With the headline being an academic scandal. The tape of her speaking was played and the moment her Master saw the horror on her face, he gave her permission to cum.

Her little mind popped. And she hasn’t been allowed to orgasm since then. Four years without an orgasm and no relief in sight. For her master had told her, that until she had another advanced degree to lose, she wouldn’t be allowed to cum. Poor girl can barely remember who George Washington was. So now she’s a squirmy, eager little trophy wife. Who will edge daily but never be allowed relief.

If your girlfriend doesn't suck your cock, I will 😘

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.

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.

The Classic Look

She was (once) an executive damnit, not some beach whore, how exactly was she supposed to get any work done dressed like this (she isn’t she’s the office joke) and how the hell did they expect her to get to work on time dressed like this? (They didn’t, her being consistently late was something to punish her over) They’d taken away her car and moved her into an apartment 6 blocks from the office (long enough so she’d get stares, wolf whistles and proposition’s, but short enough so taking the bus was pointless), she was constantly misstepping in her sky high heels with her boobs constantly threatening to spill out of her top.

And why the fuck did they make her take a Breathalyzer test every single morning and reprimand her (in a formal meeting) for not being drunk enough. (they wanted her work bad, and her ability to make good decisions reduced).

She thought about quiting, she really did. The problem was she owed a mountain of debt to the company that was increasing far quicker than she could even make the interest payments.

Amongst the things they were charging her for was:

- the down payment on the apartment

- the mortgage

-rent (though she was technically the landlord they’d forced her to sublet the apartment to herself meaning the $1200 a month she charged for the place was constantly going in and out of her bank account making it impossible for her to touch it)

- landlord services (they maintained the property and preformed room checks to ensure the tenant was keeping the property in good condition, failing in the check would result in a fine)

- A Cable package that only gave her access to fashion, shopping, gossip and porn channels (anything that might give her information on the wider world was banned, no news for her)

- the plastic surgery they’d recomended she get

- Theft prevention package (Security cameras in every room live streaming to the office but also running a program that recorded a highlight reel of all of her sexual exploits)

- Life insurance (The recipient not her family but the holder of the debt her company)

They gave several company credit cards, all with exorbitant interest rates (36% to 48%) for her to make all of her purchases on (only at company approved stores) which charged her an insane amount of money for the most basic of things ($12 for a a half Gallon of milk).

Worse still whilst the debt she owed on the credit cards had to be paid in US Dollars the credit cards automatically converted into Company scrip, vouchers only valid at the approved stores, if she went to anywhere not on the list her cards would always be declined.

The result being she was forced to eat, drink, read, watch and wear what they wanted, they had complete control over her money and she was never going to pay them back.

She was effectively an Indentured servant for the company with no hope of escape.

#Exec2Sec  #Social Demotion  #Submission  #Humiliation  #Stacking the Deck

Hi. Kinky and a doctor here. No. This is nonsense. You would need a lot of air or a lot of pressure to cause any issue. And even if there was a tear unless it is an artery, which would bleeding like mad, up to 1ml/kg air into an actual open vein (which would also be bleeding like mad... just a bit less so) would be fine. On TV when someone injects a few bubbles into a drip? Yeah, almost certainly would do nothing. This has less risk than blowing into a cut on your hand as you would not even get the same kind of seal. As for a baby in utero, the cervical os is closed until latent phase of labour so things are not really getting in or out. Even if air gets into Mum's blood, it would cause embolism in her lungs prior to reaching placenta and then baby.

So;

1. Never put compressed gases anywhere as this is a problem due to pressure.

2.a) If something is bleeding you shouldn't mess with it until it is healed but not for this reason

b) the exception to this is menstruation which is not the same as injury (obviously), and is safe

3. Otherwise let your freak flag fly.

*The more you know!*

*sparkles*

This won’t make your blog look ugly. How could you not reblog this? REBLOGGING THIS COULD SAVE A LIFE!!!

Ok! That was unexpected. But scary creative! Bleach, introductions, elocution.

Since the New Order came to town, I have lost my job, my credentials, my house and my savings.  Now I have to lose my chestnut hair, which I prized because it gave me a link to my mother and grandmother that I could never lose – until I did.  But my boss says he’s only going to hire blondes, so goodbye, Mom, goodbye, Oma.

I also have to lose my accent and my vocabulary, and have to listen to voice recordings of an actress named Arleen Sorkin, because my boss is crazy about “Harley Quinn”, whatever that is.

And now my boss is telling me that part of my job is going to involve his “introducing” me to some of his clients.  I’m not clear why he seems to think this is going to be some kind of big deal – I mean, of course I’m going to be introduced to his clients, how could I not, if I’m going to be working for him?