Crime Bimbomania Ch 02

Anyone who is under the age of 18, along with anyone offended by stories of a sexual nature or containing sexual situations or offended by the idea of mind control in any fashion, please do not read this story.

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Round Two

We were one event into Bimbomania, and Chrissie was the only one of us not affected yet. Michael, the young Asian man who was the backstage manager, had given us an hour to get used to our new piercings and bimbified midsections.

I was personally glad of the time. It would take me longer than an hour to get used to walking and moving with wider hips, a swelled rounded ass and a tiny pinched waist, but the hour would help. In particular, I needed to get used to the rings hanging freely from my nipples. Even if I won the whole thing, the rings were permanently attached to my nipples.

As I headed back toward the stage, I paused briefly to see how the event had affected our odds. Apparently a great deal of betting took place as to the final results of the show, and Vegas actively updated the odds after each event. Chrissie had opened as the early favorite at five-to-one odds, with myself and Laura tied at second with seven-to-one odds. Tonya had been last with nine-to-one odds. After the first event, however, Chrissie was now at three-to-one odds, with Laura behind her at five-to-one and Tonya still at seven-to-one. I had dropped to nine-to-one. Apparently the sight of the other three actively working together against me had convinced Vegas that I didn't have a chance.

I wandered toward backstage and noticed Chrissie, Laura and Tonya talking together. It was strange to see, considering that they were rivals once we were all back onstage, but at least they had a healthy attitude about it. With each other, anyway; with me, not so much. But that was to be expected, I supposed.

Chrissie looked at me as I walked by. She let her eyes drop to my bimbified midsection, then up to my newly pierced nipples, even though a loose top covered them. "Well, Erica," she said, "a nice start."

I gave her a flat stare. "Enjoy it, bitch," I said. "You'll look like this soon enough."

Chrissie gave me a smug smile. "Oh, you shouldn't knock it, Erica. It's a good look for you," she said.

I opened my mouth to reply, but the ten-minute bell sounded, so I didn't bother. We gathered backstage once more to change into the outfits for the next event. As we exited the changing rooms, we realized that, although each of our outfits consisted of a mini-skirt and knotted halter-top over a thong and bra, each of us displayed a separate color. Chrissie was once again in black, Laura was all in red, Tonya was in gold and I was once again in green. Stupid game show!

Michael was positively giddy as we emerged from the dressing rooms. "Great! Great! You guys look fantastic! Poise, ladies! Keep your poise! Laura, chin up! Make those eyes smolder! Shoulders back, Tonya! Show off those perky things! Chrissie, stick out that ass, girl! Shake what your momma gave you! Erica, for the love of Buddha, smile, honey! Smile! Oh! Good heavens, honey, stop smiling! You look positively ghastly! Go for mysterious instead!"

Chrissie rolled her eyes. We filed past the anxious Michael onto the stage, taking our places next to Biff, the host of Bimbomania. Biff had a cell of makeup-wielding assistants surrounding him like a giant carnivorous plant. Powder filled the air and within moments we were all coughing and fanning our faces. Someone turned on a giant backstage fan and suddenly the powder was gone, but so was any semblance of our hairstyles. Biff shrieked even louder than we did and the fan was quickly shut off. Another army of assistants rushed out with brushes and hairspray to fix our hair, and we were soon ready for the cruel spotlights once more.

*****

"Three and two and...go!"

"Hello, and welcome back to Bimbomania! I'm your host, Biff Brewster, and we're ready to begin the next round of television's best game show!" Biff indicated the electronic scoreboard. "As you can see, Christine has won the only event so far, the Catfight!" Biff paused as the crowd applauded. "So now we move on to the next event...the Obstacle Course! Or, as long-time viewers call it, the Strip'N Dip!"

There was an electronic hum and the high-tech stage began to shift. Sections of the stage slid away and were replaced by other sections with various objects on them. Bimbomania was very proud of the high-tech edge they brought to the game show genre, and the shifting stage was one area where that cutting edge technology shined. As the sections slid together, it soon formed an obstacle course with various challenges, including a stripper's pole, a trampoline, a pool with transparent sides and filled with a clear liquid, and a machine of some sort that was about waist high. The four of us glanced at Biff expectantly.

"Okay, ladies, here's what you're going to do!" said Biff. Suddenly a hologram of the stage set appeared in front of Biff. A dotted line showed our assigned path through the obstacles. "Each of you have your own path initially. At the sound of the bell, you will sprint forward until you get to the pole. You will stop at that point and remove your halter-top. Once you do that, you will twirl around the pole three times. Put your heart into it, ladies; you may be doing it for a living one day soon! Now, after the twirl, you will move down the path to the machine. Once there, you will remove your skirt and drop to your hands and knees. Notice the top is open? Well, any part of your body that goes above that height will disqualify you immediately. The only way to avoid that is by crawling through on your elbows and knees! Of course, the path through the machine is fifteen feet long, and as you go through the machine, mechanical arms will be activated, resulting in fifteen feet of spanking goodness! Once you exit the machine, you will race to the trampoline! Once there, you will remove your bra and then proceed to bounce for ten seconds. You must bounce a minimum height or face disqualification, so don't skimp on the bounce, cuties! At the end of ten seconds, the green light will flash and you'll race to the final obstacle...the pool of baby oil! The pool is the only common area for all the paths. While you are in the pool, you may not strike or gauge your opponents in any way, but anything else goes! So if one of your opponents is in front of you, feel free to tackle them! On the other side is a bell with a rope hanging from it. The first one of you to ring the bell wins this round! So, ladies, get ready to race!"

I fumed as I got into position. This was ridiculous! We had just gotten bimbified midsections and various piercings, and we were expected to race? This was not fair!

A bell sounded, and suddenly lights were flashing everywhere. I took off down the path, not stopping until I finally came to the golden pole. I whipped off my knotted halter-top, wincing slightly as I felt the pressure against my newly-pierced nipples. I dropped my top, grabbed the pole and twirled around three quick times. I let go of the pole and tried to dash away, but I stumbled and had to wait for the dizziness to pass.

Moments later my head cleared, so I made my way to the spanking machine. I stripped off my skirt, then dropped to my elbows and knees. I was still wearing a thong, but for all intents and purposes, my bare ass was in the air as I wriggled my humiliating way into the machine. If I got a chance, I was going to grab Biff by the throat and hold his head under the jello or baby oil or whatever the hell was in the pool.

I was wriggling my way through the machine when suddenly I gasped, my bare ass stinging. I had just been forcefully swatted by a mechanical hand! Then I gasped as I was spanked again, then again. My ass was burning! I wanted to stop to rub my poor bottom, but I had to move. I quickly wriggled through as those mechanical hands swatted me again and again. I finally emerged from the end of the machine and got to my feet, hands on my reddened, stinging ass. Stupid machine!

I made my way down the path to the next stop, the trampolines. I stripped off my bra, baring my newly-pierced boobs. I leaped onto the trampoline and began bouncing. The audience began cheering appreciatively as I bounced for the requisite time. The height I reached while bouncing let me see that I was the first one to the trampolines, so I had the lead heading for the final obstacle.

I leaped off the trampoline and raced for the pool of baby oil. I got to the edge of the pool and quickly stripped off my thong. Naked, I jumped into the tank.

The baby oil was approximately knee-high. I began wading towards the other side, trying to duck step, but suddenly something barreled into me from behind, and I fell face-first into the baby oil. I got to my knees, sputtering, completely covered in baby oil. Tonya was standing there, also covered with the lubricant.

Tonya tried to get around me, and I scrambled up and tried to grab her. She tried to pull away at the same time, and we both fell on our butts. Then Laura was there and suddenly the three of us were slipping and sliding all over as we tried to wrestle our naked way to the bell. The crowd was cheering exuberantly as the three of us put on what must have looked like an erotic wrestling match. I was mad at myself for doing exactly what the crowd had wanted, but there didn't seem to be any other way of getting to the rope.

Then the bell sounded, and suddenly lights and horns were going off. Naked and covered head-to-toe with baby oil, Tonya, Laura and I looked over at the rope. Chrissie stood there, naked and smirking, her fingers still gripping the bell pull.

Shit. Chrissie had won again.

Several beefcakes helped Chrissie out of the pool while the crowd went berserk with applause. They began to towel her off as Biff stepped up, thousand-watt smile in place.

"Congratulations, Christine!" he said. "Two events, two victories! What's your secret?"

Chrissie displayed a beatific smile. "Well, Biff, I just kept plugging away at it. I just knew that I wasn't going to quit, no matter what!"

"Well, Chrissie, you've won the right to watch your opponents go through the second level of Bimbomania bimbification! Paul, tell the girls and the audience what to expect!"

The unseen baritone came to life once more.

"Certainly, Biff! Looking pretty makes you feel pretty, so Tonya, Laura and Erica, it's time for those bimbo staples. It's time to get your hair, nails and lip color done! Even now, Blonde Concepts' computers are analyzing your features to ensure the perfect color and style for your ultimate bimbo appearance. Blonde Concepts, where the only good bimbo...is any bimbo!"

Still naked and covered with baby oil, Tonya, Laura and I slowly exited the pool. The electronic scoreboard updated as we did so, and now read:

TonyaB...I...x...x...x

LauraB...I...x...x...x

EricaB...I...x...x...x

Christinex...x...x...x...x

Chrissie was still untouched and the rest of us now had to get a second level of bimbification.

Several tuxedoed beefcakes escorted us towards the impromptu salon built backstage. The crowd applauded as we made our way out. Biff watched us go, then turned back to the camera.

"That's right, bimbomaniacs; when you come back, our girls will be showing off their new hairstyles, sexy nails and lovely lip color. What will the Bimbomania computer select for them? And what's the theme for this round's accessory wheel? You'll find out following these messages!"

***

Tonya, Laura and I were cleaned, then whisked off- naked- to separate salon stations. Although they were small, each station was a sleek, cutting-edge triumph of modern age machinery and hair treatment. At least, I hoped that was the case. This was my hair they were doing, dammit.

I looked at the station tech as I sat down. He was a big guy, with even larger muscles than the tuxedoed beefcake that had escorted me off the stage. He looked up from his monitor as I arrived, then nodded as I sat down.

"So you're the guy doing my hair?" I said, with as much attitude as I could muster. I couldn't believe I had to get my hair and nails done while naked. "You're not what I expected."

"I'm doing your nails, too," he said, in a gruff voice that sounded like it had a difficult time emerging from the guy's thick chest.

I raised my eyebrows. "You look more like a biker than a beautician," I said.

"I was a biker," he said. "This pays better."

"Oh," I said.

The tech continued looking at the monitor in front of him. Then he chuckled. "The computer finally decided on your look. You're going to be adorable," he said. "Sit back and lock your seat belt."

I leaned back in my chair and hooked the belt in the chair across my waist. The tech pressed a button and the belt tightened firmly across my recently-bimbified tight midsection. Then the chair leaned backwards as the huge head piece came down, although the headpiece didn't cover my head.

The tech circled around the workstation and brushed something onto my lips. He then began stroking some sort of vibrating hairbrush through my hair. It left my scalp tingling. Then he went over my lips with some sort of electronic pen. Finally, he nodded and drew the bowl down the rest of the way.

The bowl suction-sealed along my hairline, but apparently there was a little door, because the tech kept reaching in and arranging things. Several chemicals washed through my hair and over my scalp, and I could feel the tech's fingers in my hair repeatedly. This definitely wasn't your usual salon session.

He finally left the machine alone to work on my hair. The tech then flipped little slotted attachments up from the arms of the chair I was sitting in. He had me slide my fingers into the slots. I couldn't see, but apparently he had similar attachments on the footrest, because I felt something sliding over my bare toes. He must have pressed some buttons then, because I felt new machinery kick in and the slots tightened somewhat around my fingers and toes.

"Don't worry," said the tech. "It won't take long."

"Easy for you to say," I said. "It's not your hair."

He chuckled, then pushed a few more buttons. After several minutes, he checked his numbers. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he strapped some darkened goggles over my eyes and then lifted the bowl off my head. Then I could feel tugging and pulling on my hair, but the darkened goggles prevented me from seeing anything at all.

"I'm shaping your hair right now," he said. "I have to do something with all this extra length."

Extra length? Shit.

After an eternity, the goggles finally came off and my fingers and toes were freed from their respective slots. "Alright," said the biker/tech, "You're done."

I stood up slowly. I could already feel lengths of hair on my shoulders and back, which was not a good sign. I looked down at my fingers and toes and shook my head, sighing. My fingernails were a good half-inch or so past my fingertips now. And, along with my toes, a bright, metallic hot pink. It was the sort of color a high-school girl would wear.

"Dammit," I said, "This is too fucking embarrassing."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, honey," said the tech. "You haven't seen your hair yet."

Oh, that really didn't sound good.

My jaw tightened. I looked at the tech. "Do I want to see it, hair dresser guy?"

"My name is Roadkill. And I doubt you want to see it," he said cheerfully. He pressed a button. "I'm moving the mirror into place for you."

A full-length mirror slid out from the station and rotated into place directly in front of me. And Roadkill had been right.

I looked at my image with widened eyes. My brown hair was gone. It was now a bright golden blonde. But the color wasn't the only thing that had been changed.

My hair was now gathered into two pigtails on the top of my head, each slightly back and to the side. These embarrassingly blonde pigtails went all the way down to my tiny waist. And my lips were the same embarrassing shade of metallic hot pink as my nails. Everytime I moved, my pigtails bobbed cheerfully. I looked like an adorable fetish model.

My heart was pounding. "Roadkill," I said, "Did you have to do such a damn good job?"

"What can I say?" he said. "I'm an artist. I love my work. The pigtails are permanent, by the way. That's part of what took so long. Your hair was being 'programmed' to grow like that, so to speak. You'll save a fortune on styling, but you can't change it. You'll stay adorable whether you like it or not. Heh."

I said some very unladylike things then. After I exhausted my vocabulary of swear words, Roadkill tapped his biker knowledge to offer me a few more, plus some variations of ones that I knew.

"You're a good student," said Roadkill. "You would have probably made a decent biker chick. I didn't give you all the possible words, though. I kept some in reserve."

"Kept them in reserve?" I said. "Why?"

"Because I haven't given you the outfit you get to wear yet."

***

I stomped my way back towards the stage, my pigtails bobbing. Roadkill had kept some very vicious swear words in reserve for me, and I was glad. I had used them moments after I was given my outfit. I was now wearing a red-plaid mini-skirt, a white blouse crop-top that was knotted just under my boobs, and white tights that stopped two inches lower than the hem of my mini-skirt. The bastards were playing my outfit to my hair and giving me a ditzy schoolgirl look. Grrrrrrrrrr.

Tonya and Laura were waiting for me so we could all go back onstage together. Their sullen looks told me they weren't any happier about their changes than I was. Then I realized their outfits were just as embarrassing as mine.

Laura's hair was still red, but it's auburn color truly shined now. Her salon tech had obviously realized that Laura already had good hair, so the tech simply amplified what she already had. Laura's hair was now completely straight, all the way down to her ass and her bangs were cut in a perfectly straight symmetrical line micro-spaces above her matching eyebrows. Not a single hair was out of place, and the color was breathtakingly spectacular. Laura's lips were a sultry deep red, and her fingers and toes were a perfectly matching shade. She was wearing a black choker around her throat, and a laced black bustier showed off her tiny waist and gave her cleavage. The white-fringed black miniskirt, along with the black fishnet stockings that came to just below the hem of her skirt, identified her outfit as that of a French maid. It was actually hot as hell on Laura, and that made me smirk.

Poor Tonya. She had had blonde hair, and her tech had taken it a step further. Tonya now had hair that was so platinum that it was actually white. Her hair had also been styled into truly big hair, which spilled over her shoulders and all the way down her back. She was going to be spending an hour a day just drying her hair. Bright red lips centered themselves in the middle of her blonde mass, and her fingers and toes were the same matching shade of red. Tonya's outfit consisted of stretchy, glittering sequins as she walked around in a Vegas showgirl outfit. I laughed, because between the hair and the outfit, Tonya probably looked the most like a bimbo of all of us right now.

Tonya and Laura glared at my laugh. Then they looked me up and down in an obvious way and smirked.

"Sexy," said Tonya.

"Adorable," said Laura.

"Bite me," I said.

Michael held us by the stage door while we waited for the callback. The applause was overwhelming as Michael let us go back onstage one-by-one. Chrissie watched us come back, her eyes going over Tonya and Laura briefly, but lighting up when she saw me. She was obviously loving my helpless growingly bimbo look.