by Sasha Scott
“Well we’ll quickly move onto round four and hope the fashion round isn’t going to take long. What type of creature is a flickertail? Is it A, dragonfly. Is it B, monkey. Is it C, squirrel or is it D, wolf?”
While her IQ was dipping in the background, that wasn’t the main obstacle to her thinking, it was those damn jeans which were straining under the increased chunk of her thighs, she was finding it hard to breath with them on, so painful.
“Come on Emma, I don’t want to have to rush you?”
“Ah- B, go with B!”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes just please, hurry,” she was really feeling it, the faster they got this done, the better.
“Well let’s take it to the board and see if you were correct… unlucky Emma. It was actually C, a squirrel. But no matter, let’s move onto ask the audience and hope we get onto that clothing round. Oh such a shame Emma, looks like we’ll actually be moving on to the speech round next.”
Unbelievable, the clothing round nearly almost always followed the body mod round, it was the shows way of getting the contestant into an outfit to show off their new figure, but right now she’d being denied.
“So audience, vote for A if you’d like to hear Latina Spice. Vote for B if you want some Sensual Sonata. Vote for C to make a Southern Country Gal and for D if you think Emma would be Better Seen Not Heard, and don’t worry we already have a remote handy for her just incase. Any preference Emma, noting these could very well be your last spoken words.”
“I really hope not!”
D would be a disaster for her, taking away from her speech. She could live with a hot latina accent, a chat line sensual voice or a classic cowgirl accent, but just not D.
“And the votes are in and I’m afraid Emma they’ve gone with Southern Country Gal.”
His joke aside, it was at least a relief that she was still going to be speaking, even if she had a droll in her speech, this was at least a change she’d be able to get over.
“So how does it feel Emma? Notice anything yet or is it all going to come out when you talk?”
“Can we just be movin’ on to tha next question?”
Some chuckles sounded out from the audience, watching a girl change was good but it was always funny to suddenly hear a totally different voice come out of her all of a sudden, even if they knew it was coming.
“Those jeans still causing you issue? Our offer still stands you know.”
“I’ll be alrighty, just keep em comin’.”
“Well then Emma, moving on to the next question. Besiktas football club is located in which city? Is it A, Ankara. Is it B, Athens. Is it C, Istanbul or is it D, Izmir?”
Football wasn’t one of her strengths, she didn’t even know they played football in these places, she was just going to have to take a punt on a city she’d heard of.
“I’m gonna say C, Istanbul.”
“Emma, final answer?”
“Yee know it Jimmy.”
“And I can tell you that you are absolutely correct. What about that folks, give her a big round of applause.”
She didn’t really have much patience to be sitting around waiting for applause though, she still had an issue with how uncomfortable she was right now and she wanted to get this done as fast as possible.
“I don’t wanna be rude or notin’ but can we y’all be gettin’ onto tha next question?”
“Of course we can Emma, after we take a quick commercial break. Don’t go anywhere.”
A commercial break? No not now, Emma didn’t know if she would be able to make it to the end of that with her bottoms still attached.
“Welcome everyone, I’m Jim Harris and you’re back with me here on Who Wants To Be A Bimbo? We’re joined with Emma who has so far managed to answer one question correctly and during the break has also decided on a wardrobe change. Care to let us in on the reason?”
“Well ya’ll wouldn’t lemme go to the back for a new outfit, had to slip outta these here britches before I went ahead and strangled mahself.”
“Glad you got yourself more comfortable Emma, just in time for our sixth question. In Italian cuisine what are gnocchi? Is it A, breadsticks. Is it B, dumplings. Is it C, pancakes or is it D, scones?”
Well it was easier for her to think without those damn jeans squeezing her thighs, but not by much with a full audience staring at her panties, Emma trying to cover them desperately. Not that it mattered, she didn’t know anything about Italian food.
“I’m gonna say A.”
“And you’re saying A, breadsticks. Oooo, unlucky Emma that is incorrect. The correct answer was actually B, dumplings. Nevermind, all it means is we’re getting our voting panels out for another round of ask the audience!”
The board gets to spinning through the options before it settles down on the symbol for clothing, trust for it to come on just as soon as the jeans come on.
“So it’s the clothing round, time to help you pick a new wardrobe Emma. Now audience, here are your options. Vote A for Raunchy Rancher. Vote B for Maid Service. Vote C for Exhibitionist Experience and vote D for Creamy Cowgirl. Any preference on a new look?”
“Well I guess some farm clothin’ is better than the other two.”
Option C could hardly be called clothing, removing the contestants desire to wear any clothing, only able to cover themselves with stickers and pastables.
“Well let’s see how the voting turns out, and it seems the audience are also keen on the farming clothing, they want to see a Creamy Cowgirl.”
What Emma was expect was a cowgirl as in hat and boots and maybe some small jean shorts, but sadly for her that was Raunchy Rancher. What Creamy Cowgirl actually did was give her the desire to dress up in cow print and display herself as human livestock.
Emma was helped out off the stage by the glamorous assistant to give herself a brand new outfit. She felt good getting out of those panties of hers until she saw her new outfit. Her return to the stage came accompanied by a heavy red blush across her cheeks.
“Doesn’t she look cute folks? Simply ravishing.”
Her arms and legs were wrapped in long cow print gloves, socks and boots, with her fat breast squished into a revealing bikini top, her hips hidden under a short skirt, all the same pattern. The cowbell around her neck and the fake horn and ear headband just added an extra charm. Yet she still accepted the outfit, a part of her wanted to wear it.
“Shall we move onto the next question now you’re all dressed up Emma?”
“Ya let’s go hurry things up, don’t wanna be here all day now.”
“Okay moving on to our next question, question seven. Emma, in which service did John F. Kennedy serve during World War Two? Was it A, the Air Force. Was it B, the Army. Was it C, the Marine Corps or was it D, the Navy?”
Emma was sure she’d actually hear this one two but she couldn’t remember now anymore, her head was feeling a lot fuzzier than it had when she first came on the show. That loss of IQ wasn’t just a gimmick the show came up with, it was fact.
“Erm, maybe it was the ol’ Air Force.”
“So you’re going with A?”
“Sure thing Jimmy O’”
“Well let’s see if that answer is the correct one. Ouch, it’s incorrect, such a shame. It was actually the United States Navy. Unlucky Emma but it’s time to for another round of ask the audience! Let’s see what the next round has in store for you. Oh oh, it’s time for the surprise round! This means that Emma will now have her fate in the audience's hand with four choices that could come from anywhere, shall we see what they are today?
Audience, vote A for Bad With Money. Vote B for Race Remodeling. Vote C to make her a Milky Momma or D if you’d prefer some Memory Manipulator.”
The surprise round always threw up some unusual options, this week was no exception. Option A would crush Emma’s understanding of money, making it incredibly easy to get her to do things for pathetic sums. Option D would allow anyone to insert things into her me
mory by simply telling her something, instantly believing and recalling it. Even the more simple B and C were big changes.
“It’s been a very close round Emma but I can reveal that the audience have put their faith in option C, Milky Momma. I wonder where they got that idea from?”
With Emma dressed as a cow it was probably natural the option would get pushed in that direction. She began to pant as she felt a strong tingling in her chest, focused down around her nipples which began to bulge into her bikini top. An alien sensation trickled through her chest, one she understood but never dreamed she’d feel coming on, she was lactating now.
“So Emma, how does it feel having some milky udders of your own?”
“Please don’t be callin’ them that Jimmy.”
“Sorry, you lovely milky boobs. As much as the audience would love to sit here and watch you lactate, I think they’d love to see question eight as well so without further ado; what does the Bayeux Tapestry depict? Is it A, The French Revolution. Is it B, The Hundred Year’s War? Is it C, The Last Supper or is it D, the Norman conquest of England?”
Thinking was getting harder and harder for Emma, as were her nipples which formed round wet patches in her top, making her breaths flow out. Her head was fluttering with butterflies, but she could still think a bit. That Bay word sounded French didn’t it?
“I reckon it could be that right her French bit I tell ya.”
“You’re saying A, The French Revolution?”
“Ya sugar.”
“Emma you’re saying A, but I’m afraid it was actually the Norman conquest of England. It’s actually an embroidery and not a tapestry, despite being referred to as so. Shall we see what the board has in store for you next?”
“Y’all better have somethin’ good for ma board.”
“Well let’s see if he does as we do our next roll. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the kinks round. Time to add a little spice to your life. Okay audience, fingers on your buzzers. Do you want to vote for A, Once You Go Black. Vote B for Pet Pleasures. Vote C for Exhibitionist Experience and vote D for On The Wild Side. You got any preference you’d like the audience to vote for Emma?”
“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle, darn bad choice right here.”
“You heard her folks, Emma doesn’t like the board so try and play nice. It seems the last votes are just coming in, and I can now reveal that Pet Pleasures have come out on top.”
Being a pet was at least a bit better than being used by pets, and she already had a collar on, which she suddenly found even more comforting than before.
“You wanna show us those titties now Emma?”
“Hey don’t treat me like no varmint.”
“Come on Emma, be a good girl, everyone wants to see them, am I right folks?”
The audience went wild for the chubby Emma and her milky titties, cheering and wolf whistling for her, a chant eventually breaking out in support of seeing her fat breasts. All that attention, it made a pet girl like her get all giddy.
“Well if ya’ll insist.”
She hooked a finger down into the front of her bra top and popped those big white, milk dripping tits for the audience and the live viewers at home to see, only on Who Wants To Be A Bimbo? She tingled at the cheering for her heavy bosom, leaking softly down her own skin.
“Very nice Emma, see forfeits aren’t all bad, let’s see if you have anymore in your future or if it’s on to the final as it’s time for question number nine. In 2006 what did Pluto become? Is it A, a dwarf planet? Is it B, a mini planet? Is it C, a semi planet or is it D, a small planet?”
“Right I reckon it’s D.”
“So you think it’s small?”
“Well is it?”
“It is small Emma but sadly that was not the right answer, the answer you actually wanted was A, a dwarf planet.”
“Dang it.”
“Sorry Emma but better news for the audience, time to play another round of ask the audience. And this round it seems we’ll be changing that job of yours, you’ll have to get someone else to look after your business. Okay audience, please vote on your favorite option. Would you like A, Flirty Farm Hand? Would you like B, Working Wonder Woman? Would you like C, Slutty Stripper or would you like to vote for D, Trusty Teaching Tool?”
It was still amazing that schools allowed the bimbos from the show to serve as teachers in their school. Not exactly as the official teachers, but more as teaching assistants. They did offer a lot of ‘assistance’ to the teachers after all.
“And you’ve got your votes in, and it seems the audience is having fun with this game. Would you believe that option A is the winner? Hope the farm has another slot open for a cow.”
“Do I skedaddle over there now?”
“Not just yet Emma, we still have one more question to go before we move onto the final question, it’s time for question ten. Who lives in a Hundred Acre Wood? Is it A, Basil Brush. Is it B, Paddington Bear. Is it C, Rupert the Bear or is it D, Winnie the Pooh?”
“I reckon it be one of those bears, those varmint live in woods.”
“I’ll have to press you for one of them though Emma.”
“Don’t get ya panties in a knot sugar. I reckon B.”
“Emma, you’re going with B, Paddington Bear. But I’m afraid the answer is actually Winnie the Pooh. Come on Emma, everyone knows that.”
“Well I sure didn’t know notin’ about it.”
“Such a shame Emma, this means you’ll have to face our final round of ask the audience which, as always, is the personality round. Time to tinker with that very brain of yours and make some deep changes. Folks, what are we feeling like tonight? Vote for A for some Nymphomania. Vote B for Motherly Loving. Vote C for A Simple Girl and vote D for Cold As Ice. Quickly, submit those votes.”
Round ten was always the most serious round, and was the one that contestants wanted to avoid at all costs, for many it could be the final nail in their coffin, and Emma hadn’t exactly had a great game.
“The votes are in and it looks like the audience have decided to vote for option B, Motherly Loving. Time to get a big dose of paternal loving Emma.”
Her head began to buzz, she felt weird. She felt a deep throbbing within, it hurt so much, what was going on. A final gasp flowed from her lips as she felt the pieces click in her mind, sealing her fate. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to nurture and look after everybody. Oh god, how great it would be to feed someone with those big milky tits of hers, she was practically gagging for it. She forgot she had those leaking jugs hanging out.
“So tell us, how are you feeling right now?”
“I feeling snug as a bug in a rug sugar, could do with some younguns right now though.”
“Try and contain yourself for a little longer Emma, we only have one more question to go and it’s for the grand prize, half a million dollars.”
“Half a million!?”
“Sorry folks, sometimes all that IQ loss doesn’t do good things to a girl's memory. If you want to see if Emma manages to win our grand prize then join us after the break. Don’t go anywhere.”
“And we’re back folks. I’m Jim Harris and I’m glad to have you back. We’re joined with Emma who has managed to get all the way to the grand prize. However, she only managed to get there with one correct answer so far, will she still have the brainpower to win our five hundred thousand dollar prize? What would you spent all that money on Emma?”
“If I had my druthers for spoilin’ my younguns rotten.”
“Not going to put any money into that music shop you own?”
“If that’s what you got a hankerin’ for sugar?”
“If you’d be so kind, would you donate all your cash winnings back to the show if you won? It’d make everyone here very happy.”
“That’d make me as happy as a puppy with two puckers.”
“Wow, isn’t she fantastic folks? Give her a hand folks.”
The entire audience began to applaud and cheer for the
motherly plump cow girl who wiggled around happily in her seat, oh all this attention made her feel so damn giddy, her face was flushed with a hot glow, and those nipples kept leaking down her body.
“But now it’s time for the finale, let’s move on to the final question. So Emma, for half a million dollars, on which continent is the country Germany located? Is it A, Europe. Is it B, Asia. Is it C, Africa or is it D, America?”
Emma would have been able to breeze through this question at the start and she wasn’t a particularly smart girl or anything, but she’d done horribly in the show and had suffered through nine IQ sapping, body and mind morphing rounds, her intelligence had taken a massive nosedive since the start of the show. This may well have been the meaning of life to right now.
