Bimbo Factory

Chapter 1.

Girl's night out

It was Friday night, and I was looking forward to seeing my friends tonight. It was our regular thing - six of us got together for pasta and wine at an inexpensive Italian place everyone liked. Ok - there are supposed to be six of us. On any given week, there usually were a couple that couldn't make it, leaving the remaining four to catch up with each other and gossip about the others. Keeping the rumors under control is always a big incentive, so I tried to be there. Besides, I had split up with my boyfriend, so there wasn't anything else to do anyway.

None of us had been out of college for more than 3 years, and we were finding that it was hard to adjust to working in an office. My job was dull and repetitive, but Dad kept telling me that I had to expect that. Spend my life working in a cubicle and looking forward to my two weeks of vacation every year? No thanks. But what choices did I have? Marry a meal ticket? That could be worse.

I also found that it was hard to meet guys. In college, there were cute guys everywhere you turned. Now the pickings were slim indeed. Nobody to see for a cup of coffee, let alone take home and fuck. So it was girls' night out, and I was determined to have fun. I rolled my 6 year old Honda into the parking lot, and slid into our usual booth 5 minutes late.

"Marsha! Glad you made it! I love that top!"

"Thanks," I muttered. "I got it on sale at Macy's last month. I thought it was kind of cute. I really like that purse of yours. Is it real?"

"I kind of doubt it," Sandy replied. "I bought it off of a sidewalk vendor for $30. I think that the one in Tiffany's goes for $750. If I used a purse for years, I might buy the real one. But they go out of fashion so fast, it just isn't worth it. How's life without Mike?"

"Oh, I'm better off without him. When I found out he was fucking somebody else, it was over." Kendra and Ellen slid into our booth. "Have you guys ordered yet? Did we miss anything?"

Sandy broke into the conversation. "Well, this is our group tonight. Cathy is visiting her folks, and Sasha has that hot date she told us about last week."

"How come Sasha seems to get all the hot guys? Her boobs are the same size as mine."

"I asked her the same thing. She gave me this wicked smile, and said that she's learned how to enjoy anal sex. Says that it drives the guys wild - they seem to love putting their dicks in her butt."

"Gross. How can you enjoy that?"

"Who knows. Speaking of weird - dig this. The new Cosmo came yesterday. Check it out - an article about a place near Cancun called The Bimbo Factory. Says that chicks go in normal, and come out as...."

"Get real. There's a place in Mexico that makes Bimbos? How do you make a bimbo? Who would ever want to be a bimbo?"

"Not like that. The article says that they get you in shape, give you a boob job, and teach you how to be hot in bed. Seriously!"

"They have to come up with a better name than that!"

"Maybe Sasha's an alum?"

"I can't believe this. How long does it take become a bimbo?"

"Well, the article says it takes an average of 6 months, and they even have a job placement service! Can you believe that?"

"What kind of jobs would you get as a bimbo?"

"Fuck toys or porn stars, I guess. What else?"

"I dunno. Ooo... I have an idea. Is there a phone number to call?"

'Let's see. Here it is. 1-800-4-BIMBOS. Why? You gonna quit your job and become a bimbo?"

"Nah. Let's draw straws. The one with the shortest straw has to call the number, ask a lot of questions, pretend to be interested, and get them to send a brochure or DVD or something."

So Kendra cuts her straw into 4 pieces of various lengths, and calls the waitress over. "Can you mix these up and hold them up so we can draw straws?" The waitress helps us out, and we each pick one.

Of course, I draw the short one. The others think it is hysterical. Marsha, with the mousy brown hair and the small tits is going to call the Bimbo Factory and learn how to become a bimbo. The rest of the night, they tell me what to ask.

"Are all bimbos blonde?"

"Are they horny all the time?"

"Do the classes teach you how to fuck with your butt? Does the guy get your shit on his prick?"

"Does everyone get a boob job?"

It really was insufferable. And I was miserable. I had to make that call, and I couldn't come back to our Friday night thing until I had the inside scoop. So I had this horrible pit feeling every time I thought about it. I had to call, but I hated the idea. But I was kind of curious too, in a slightly horrified sort of way.

I put it off until Monday. At lunch, I went outside to a secluded spot with my food, pulled out my cell, and called the number.

"Bimbo Factory".

"Uh... hello. I saw the article in this month's Cosmo. Is there someone I could talk to and get some more information?"

"One moment - let me transfer you to our admissions department."

"Admissions. This is Barb. How can I help you?"

"Uh... hello. I saw the article in this month's Cosmo, and I was curious. Can you answer a few questions?"

"Sure. That article you mentioned has generated a lot of calls - not all of which are legitimate, I might add."

"I expect you do get a lot of weird calls. I'm curious. The article says you help chicks get in shape, prescribe any necessary drugs, offer cosmetic surgery if desired, and provide a variety of sex classes. Is that right?"

"That's a fair summary of what we do, yes."

"Well I think I understand the diet and exercise bit. But what do you mean by 'prescribe any necessary drugs'?"

"When you start, we give you a complete physical and set of blood tests. We find that many women have an undiagnosed hormonal imbalance that results in a loss of sexual appetite. But there could be other issues that are uncovered, too. Anyway, the doctor goes over the results with you, and they discuss a therapy to restore proper balance if one is required. Sometimes they also prescribe drugs to improve your skin, make your hair shiny, or grow thicker eyelashes. Depends on what you want."

"You make them horny all the time?"

"That's a crude way of putting it. But yes."

"No mind-altering stuff?"

"Oh goodness no. The women that enroll in the program don't come because they want their minds altered. They come because they want to be sexier, and learn how to use their sex appeal to get what they want."

"Are all of your graduates blonde?"

"Of course not. That's a silly stereotype. Some are, of course. But most keep their natural hair color."

"Do they all get boob jobs?"

"Many do. But some want to be high fashion models, and the agencies like skinny women with long legs and small breasts. Others like their breasts just the way they are. It is just a stupid stereotype that women need big breasts to be sexy.

"But virtually all of our students elect to have some cosmetic procedures done. Most get laser treatments to remove body hair or birthmarks. Others have lipo to take care of problem areas when diet and exercise aren't quite enough. There's a very long list of things that can be done."

"What sorts of jobs do they get when they graduate?"

"Our placement agency works very hard to find the appropriate position for each of our graduates. I would say that modeling and acting are the most popular choices. Some work in the adult entertainment industry, but they are in the minority. Some even go back to their old jobs with their old company, but a new outlook."

I couldn't imagine that. Take a leave of absence, become a bimbo, and then return to my cubicle on the 11th floor. No chance anyone would do that. "Why would someone want to go back to their old job?" I ask.

"I suppose it is because they like their job and the people they work with." Barb replied.

"Perhaps." After a short pause, I have another question.

"What does it cost?"

"Our base fee is $8500 a month. That covers room and board, classes, and weekly skin treatments at our laser skin center. Drugs and other cosmetic procedures are extra, but generally cost about half what they would cost in the US. Some of the drugs and cosmetic surgery procedures aren't available anywhere else. The average stay is about 6 months. Women that are in terrific shape when they arrive and elect fewer cosmetic procedures can finish in as little as 3 months. Some stay longer to grow natural breasts and to take every class we offer."

"Grow natural breasts?"

"That's right. We've developed a hormone regimen that mimics what your body produces when you're 15. It makes your breasts grow. Something we're very proud of."

"How fast do they grow?"

"It takes a while. Perhaps 1 cup size every 6 months. But if you want large, natural breasts, it is the only way to go."

"That's a long time."

"Perhaps. But it is about how fast girls grow when they are 15."

Hmm... $8500 a month for 6 months to gain 1 cup size. No thanks. "You mentioned classes. What kind of classes?

"We offer a wide-ranging curriculum. Students have some required classes, like Flirting and Foreplay. We offer classes that teach every type of sexual technique."

I tried to stifle a snicker. "Do the classes have a lab section, like my science classes in college?"

"Every class gives the students an opportunity to practice what they learn. Students sometimes practice with upper level students from The Stud Farm, our facility for men here in Cancun."

Get real. Sounds like the class on oral sex would have everyone giving strange guys a blowjob. I don't think I could handle that. What's this about a Stud Farm? A Bimbo Factory for guys? What kind of plastic surgery do they get? I am not sure I want to know.

"Do you have a DVD or brochure you can send?"

"We don't send out DVDs. But all of the information is available on our website: http://www.bimbofactory.edu. If you decide to apply, we give you a decision within a week. And even if you are accepted, you still must pass a physical to enroll."

"What is the acceptance rate?"

"We accept about 30% of those that apply. Of these, about 3/4ths end up enrolling in the program. Our graduation rate is about 70%."

"Wow. That's pretty selective. Why are people turned away?"

"Some are too old, or hopelessly out of shape, or have some other medical condition. But the biggest reason is that they aren't psychologically suited to the program. They think that we can fix their marriage or bring their boyfriend back. We can't. But we can give you a terrific body, teach you how to have great sex, and launch you on an exciting career.

"Just so you know - the application fee is $1200. That includes a complete physical exam, a tour and an overnight stay here at the Bimbo Factory. You'll have an escort from the Stud Farm, our facility for men across town."

"Why would I need an escort?"

"Oh, you don't NEED an escort. But most applicants enjoy having a really cute guy to hang around with. It makes the experience more fun. It is also good practice for the guys at the Stud Farm - they're learning how to please women, and the first-time visitors are a good learning experience for them too. If you don't want an escort, you can always tell him to get lost. But that's never happened."

"Thanks. I'll have to think about it."

"Take your time. It was a pleasure to talk to you. If you have any more questions, I am at extension 227. Bye."

I wanted to call my friends right away to give them all the details, but thought it would be more fun to wait till I saw them on Friday night. On Thursday, Sandy called.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"You call the Bimbo Factory yet?"

"Maybe..."

"You gonna tell me about it?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to come tomorrow to find out."

"Give me a break. You call them or not?"

"Maybe..."

"C'mon. I have to tell everyone else so they show up."

"I guess you'll have to wait till tomorrow."

"You're horrid."

I grinned at the cell phone. This is gonna be rich.

On Friday, I show up 10 minutes late. Like me, everyone is a little fascinated, a little horrified. We spent most of the time talking about who might want to become a bimbo.

"The chick on the phone said that their students fuck the guys at the Stud Farm and get a job as a centerfold or a porn star."

"Who would want to be a porn star? Centerfold? Maybe. But not a porn star." Did she say anything about being a fuck toy?"

"No mention of being a fuck toy. Said they charge a $1200 admission fee. You go to Cancun, get a physical, talk to a psychologist. Then they give you an escort from "The Stud Farm" to show you around."

"That's rich. What does the guy do? Fuck you all night?"

"They wouldn't say. I guess if you want to fuck, he'd be happy to take care of you. But if you don't want to fuck, he'll do whatever you want."

"That's probably worth the admission fee right there. But who wants to be a porn star? That's disgusting."

"I'd skip the porn star bit too. But fucking a bunch of hunks every day for 6 months doesn't sound so bad. And making them want to fuck me by just walking in the room? That would be kind of cool. But I am not about to drop $50K on a boob job and sex classes."

I agreed with Ellen. Who had $50K to spend on a boob job and sex classes? But the chick on the phone made it sound like a lot more than that. I knew I'd never be a hottie with just a boob job and sex classes. But when you put the whole program together, maybe...

Chapter 2

Did I dare?

Did I think about the Bimbo Factory? Yep. All the time. I'll admit it - it became an obsession. Did I want to be a bimbo? No. Did I want all the cute guys to want me? You bet.

But I couldn't possibly... I mean... Really.... How would I explain it to my friends or family? Nah...

But every time I'd think about it I'd get wet and turned on. At work, I'd go in the restroom and play with my clit. I'd try to be quiet so I wouldn't create a scene. At home, I had a nice fat dildo to keep me company, and I could make more noise if I wanted to. Sometimes I'd stick it up my ass - I hated to admit it, but that felt pretty good.

Sometimes I'd stuff my dress with padding to see what I'd look like with big boobs. I got myself a blonde wig and a fishnet body stocking, suck on my dildo and play with myself. I wanted a real cock, but would panic when I saw a cute guy. So I'd dive into a book, and ignore him, hoping he would go away. He always did. Then I'd always go home to my fantasies and my toy.

After 6 months of this, I was desperate. Then I got a pink slip at work. Corporate merger. When they hired me, I got some stock options. After the taxes were paid, the options and the severance pay came to $85K.

Enough to pay for the Bimbo Factory. Shit.

I was lonely and out of work. I had the money. I had the time. But could I do it? I didn't know. But I figured that there was no harm in checking it out, so I called back and punched in extension 227.

"Admissions. This is Barb."

"Uh... hello. I talked to you a few months ago."

"I didn't catch your name."

"Uh... Marsha. Marsha Connolly."

"Oh yes... We talked on March 22. Have you given it some more thought?"

"I guess so. My company just was bought out, and I was let go. They gave me a nice severance package, though. It means I have the time and the money - I thought I could send you an application and check it out."

"Sorry that you lost your job, Marsha. But I'm glad you'll consider the Bimbo Factory. Can you give me your email address? I can email you the application, so you can fill it out and give me your credit card information. Once I get the application and the fee, I can make all of the arrangements."

I sent in the application the following day. Three days later she called back. True to her word, Barb arranged for a visit the following Friday. I was to fly to Cancun on Thursday night, and would be met by their driver at the airport. I'd spend the night, and have a series of appointments the following day. I fly home the following night.

Was I nervous? You bet. But I kept telling myself that I was making no decisions, I was just checking the place out. I'd be gone only a couple of days, and would be back before anyone knew I was gone. So I packed a small bag, and boarded the plane. Somehow, though, I kept thinking about this "escort" they were going to give me. Would he be cute? Probably. Did I want to fuck him? No - certainly not without getting to know him first. I just wasn't comfortable hopping in the sack with some guy because... well, you know.

Chapter 3.

Admissions Application

I landed in Cancun and went through customs then collected my bag. I left baggage claim, and scanned the waiting crowd. A gorgeous hunk with a dazzling smile was standing there, holding a card with "Connolly" in big block letters. My ride.

"I'm Marsha. You here to pick me up?"

"Marsha? Pleased to meet you. I'm Mike. Here, let me take your bag. The car's parked in the limo lot across the street. Would you like to walk, or shall I bring the car around for you?"

"Walking sounds great. A little exercise would do me good."

"Wonderful. Follow me."

Mike leads me out the double doors to the car. I follow his cute little behind. He is built. Strong wide shoulders, nice muscles, tiny waist. I guess he is about 28 or 30. The sort of guy you dream about fucking, that makes you flirt without thinking. I wish I had fixed my makeup in the bathroom before picking up my bag.

I sit in the back of the black car, and make small talk.

"Do you work for the school?" I can't bring myself to say "Bimbo Factory".

"Actually, no. I'm a student at the Stud Farm. I've been here about 5 months. They found me a job, and I am set to graduate next month."

"Really?" Suddenly I am full of questions. Which ones should I ask first?

"Why did you come?"

Mike chuckled a bit before answering. "I was working as a programmer for a tech company, and bored out of my skull. I couldn't get a date. I had the cash, and I thought I could use a makeover."

"You couldn't get a date? I can't believe that.

"It's true. I had never been to a gym, didn't play sports. My teeth were yellow from too much coffee, and I was starting to grow a beer gut. Since I got here, they've worked my butt off. Lots of exercise, strict diet, the whole bit. It has given me a lot more confidence."

I didn't feel comfortable asking too many super personal questions. So I tried to play it safe.

"They helped you find a job?"

"Oh yes - lots of jobs to choose from. I'll be working as a personal assistant for a Hollywood star. She wanted a guy for a personal driver, someone to fuck when she wanted. She was very particular - she wanted a guy with a big dick, but not too big, a guy that would go slow and an expert at oral sex. We fucked for two hours, and she came 5 or 6 times. She said I was the right size, but a bit clumsy at oral sex. And I knew nothing about being a chauffeur. She offered me the job, and let me finish the program before starting work. So I am practicing the limo driver bit and taking an advanced oral class. I graduate at the end of the month."

I am speechless. This hunk of a guy talks about sex in the most carefree way, with no reservations or inhibitions at all. I am shocked. I mean, I don't know him, and he is talking about fucking a famous actress for hours. Does everyone here talk about sex this way? Could I fit in? I didn't know - and I wasn't sure I wanted to find out. But I thought I could at least play along.

"For her, how big was too big?"

"I am not really sure. She didn't say. Some guys at the Stud Farm end up with really big dicks - 12" or so. She said that the huge guys just make her sore. I'm about 9" - bigger than normal, but not so big that I make her really sore. Just a nice tight fit."

Twelve inches? Nine inches? In my high school biology class, I was told that virtually every guy was between 5 and 7 inches. How does a guy "end up" with a foot long cock? I am too embarrassed to ask. I don't think I could take nine inches. And I don't want to try, thank you very much. A foot of cock? No thanks.