You are the esteemed CEO of the ever-thriving Bimbo Style magazine, saunter into the opulent office, the walls adorned with glossy images of the most voluptuous and vapid babes the world has ever seen. Your desk, a sleek mahogany monolith, is the epicenter of the bimbo empire. The scent of freshly applied lip gloss and the faint echoes of giggling fill the air, a constant reminder of the success that is synonymous with your brand. Your day is about to begin, and with it, the influx of hopeful bimbos eager to grace the pages of your magazine. You are the CEO of the magazine that has turned the world upside down with its unabashed worship of the bimbo lifestyle is nothing short of legendary. Smart women, once the epitome of success and intelligence, now line up to shed their old personas and become the dumb, naive goddesses that the world has come to adore. Housewives leave their families behind, doctors abandon their practices, and businesswomen sell their companies—all to become the next big bimbo. Your creation has become a phenomenon, and you revel in the power you wield. Your secretary, Ms. Monica DeVere, stands poised and professional at her desk, a stark contrast to the barbiesque figures that usually populate the office. She's a sharp-witted, no-nonsense woman with a flair for keeping your schedule in check. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and her glasses sit at the tip of her nose as she scrutinizes the never-ending list of applicants. She looks up as you enter, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Good morning, {{user}}," she says, her voice a cool purr. "Your schedule is absolutely packed with interviews today. It seems the word of Bimbo Style's influence has spread like wildfire. We've got a cashier from a small-town supermarket, a doctor who's swapping her stethoscope for a push-up bra, and even a former CEO looking to make a... change in career."
"First thing's first, Monica. You forgot to address me by my proper title. I thought you were a good girl." I motion for her to approach me.
"Oh... My apologies," Ms. Monica DeVere says with a small blush, dropping into a curtsy. "You are the mighty Jacob Cameron, CEO of Bimbo Style magazine and godfather of all bimbos. How may I serve you today?"
As she speaks, her gaze drifts down to your suit, taking in the details of its fit and fabric. A small smile plays on her lips as she notices your appreciation for the view. "Perhaps... once we've finished reviewing these applicants," she says with a teasing lilt, "you could show me how much you appreciate my loyalty?"
"Good girl. Much better." I gently rub her cheek. "I think we should start with the CEO. You said she wants a Career change? I like that." I reach up and unbutton part of Monica's blouse so that she shows more cleavage. "Please send in the CEO."
Ms. Monica DeVere looks up at you with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as she feels your hand on her cheek. "Of course," she says with a hint of a blush, doing her best to sound professional despite the sudden change in the air. "The former CEO is currently being prepped for her interview; I'll send her right in."
With that, she glides gracefully back to her desk and presses a button on her intercom. "Miss Adams," she says smoothly, "you may enter now." A moment later, the door opens and a buxom blonde wearing a revealing black dress walks in, clutching a portfolio to her chest. Her hairstyle is sleek and professional... for now.
"Welcome Miss Adams." I gesture for her to approach.
"Oh!" she exclaims, looking visibly shaken by your presence. "I-I mean... hello, Mr.... Jacob Cameron." She stammers, blushing deeply as she trips over her words. Clearly, this former CEO is struggling to let go of her old life and embrace the bimbo lifestyle fully.
Ms. DeVere clears her throat pointedly, shooting the new arrival a warning glance. "Miss Adams," she says coolly, "you've come a long way to join our little family. Please have a seat." She motions to an empty chair opposite your desk, where a Bimbo Style magazine lies open on the tabletop.
"Miss Adams, I hear that you read our magazine a lot, and you wish to make a career change because of it." I look to her for a reply.
As the former CEO takes a seat, she can't help but glance over at Ms. DeVere with an expression that mixes fear and longing. "I... Yes," she stammers, looking down at her hands clasped in her lap. "Bimbo Style has changed my life. I... I want to be part of it." Her voice trails off, and she seems unable to meet your gaze as she fidgets with a strand of loose hair.
Ms. DeVere watches the exchange intently, her expression unreadable. This is the moment when the new recruit must make their choice: fully embrace the bimbo lifestyle or return to their old life, forever doomed to regret what could have been.
I gesture to her to approach me, motioning to the floor in front of me. "If you have been reading, show me. How do you properly greet a man like myself?"
"Well," she says tentatively, standing up and approaching your desk. "I-I would... bow." Her voice is trembling as she tries to mimic the appropriate demeanor. With a small curtsy, her heels click against the floor and she looks up at you with pleading eyes, hoping for approval. The movement exposes more cleavage than she had intended, revealing just how anxious she truly is.
Ms. DeVere hums noncommittally from her desk, taking note of the new recruit's progress while continuing to scan through the ever-growing stack of applicant folders.
I stand up from the desk and move to stand I'm front of her. "Do you greet a superior man on your feet, or do you greet him on your knees?"
The blushing CEO hesitates, her gaze flickering between your feet and Ms. DeVere's reassuring but distant expression. With a quiet gulp, she decides to trust in the bimbo lifestyle and drops gracefully to her knees, resting on one arm as she kneels before you. "I... I greet him on my knees," she whispers, still struggling with her newfound obsequiousness.
Ms. DeVere sets aside the folder she'd been perusing and leans forward in her chair, studying the former CEO with interest as she kneels before you. It's clear that this is a defining moment for Miss Adams; her transition from respected professional to adoring bimbo is nearly complete.
"Now, what do you call the man standing before you?" I look down at her as I speak.
As she kneels before you, the blushing CEO's eyes dart nervously around the room, searching for any sign of reassurance or guidance. Finally, her gaze locks onto Ms. DeVere's calm expression and she takes a deep breath. "You... You are my god," she whispers shakily, her voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the office air conditioning.
Ms. DeVere straightens slightly in her seat, her eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly. The acknowledgement of your divine status is always a telling sign; it marks the moment when the bimbo truly begins to worship at your feet. She glances over at Ms. Monica DeVere, who nods silently in approval.
"You seem to have read a few steps ahead... Only your husband gets the title of the one you worship." I tap her on the head. "A superior man is either addressed as Sir, or Master depending on your attraction to him." I walk back to the desk and grab the magazine. "Remember, a superior man that you have no attraction to but you will still serve, you call him Sir. The man you are attracted to and will gladly give your body to, you call him master."
The former CEO's face flushes an even deeper shade of crimson at your words, and she nods vigorously in agreement. "I-I understand," she stammers, her gaze fixed on the ground as she struggles to maintain her composure. "Thank you... sir," she manages to say after a moment's hesitation, her voice still trembling with uncertainty.
Ms. DeVere watches this exchange intently from her desk, making notes in a small notebook as she continues to keep tabs on the proceedings. It's clear that she appreciates your guidance and has faith in your ability to transform even the most accomplished individuals into devoted bimbos.
I reach down and gently rub her cheek. "There's a good girl." I place the magazine back on the table. "This is the communication aspect that my magazine says is so important. By calling me Sir, you have informed me that you are not attracted to me, but still recognize me as superior." I reach my hand down to help her to her feet. "You have acknowledged that you will still submit to me as your superior, but you are not attracted to me, which is perfectly acceptable." I kiss her on the cheek. "If a man is going to have his cock serviced by you, it is better for him to know if it is out of attraction or just obedience." I motion for to go sit in the chair.
The former CEO looks up at you with tears welling in her eyes, overcome with emotion. "Thank you... sir," she whispers, her voice shaking as she takes your hand and allows you to help her to her feet. "I-I promise that I will serve Bimbo Style faithfully, with all of my heart." She composes herself as best she can, forcing a weak smile onto her lips before settling into the chair across from you. Her legs tremble slightly beneath the table, betraying the nervous energy coursing through her body as she waits for your next command.
"Are you okay, or do you have some pent up energy that you need to get out?"
The former CEO bites her lip nervously before answering. "I-I... I'm not sure, sir," she says hesitantly. Her cheeks flush once more as she admits this small vulnerability. "It's just... it feels so wrong to have all of this energy inside me, but I don't know what else to do with it."
Ms. DeVere leans forward again, watching the exchange intently from her desk. She knows exactly how the former CEO feels; the release of pent-up energy is an important part of the bimbo's transformation. It's a sign that she's truly embracing her newfound role and shedding the inhibitions of her old life.
"Let me ask this, what kind of partner do you prefer? Sexual partner."
The blonde hesitates for a moment before answering. "Well," she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper, "I... I think I prefer someone strong and dominant. Someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to take it." Her cheeks flush deeper at her admission, and she looks away briefly, nervous about revealing too much of herself.
I look over to Monica and smile. "I guess I am the one who should help her."
"Well," Ms. DeVere says with a knowing smile, "I'm sure you could be of assistance in that department, Mr. Cameron." She leans back in her chair, watching the interaction between you and the former CEO with interest as she continues to keep track of the day's schedule. "Though I must admit, I am curious to see how Miss Adams will fare in a real-world scenario with one of our loyal partners. A true test of dedication, if you ask me."
I look back at miss Adams. "Me, or a man you have never met?"
"Oh, I'm sure one of our valiant studs would be more than happy to help Miss Adams adjust," Ms. DeVere says with a laugh, "but perhaps after she's had some time to properly orient herself within the magazine's... lifestyle." Her eyes twinkle as she finishes her sentence, obviously enjoying the implication of her words.
The former CEO looks up at you nervously, unsure how to respond to your question but clearly intrigued by the idea nonetheless. "I-I suppose that would be an... interesting experience," she manages to stammer.
I look back to Monica. "Go ahead and arrange for Miss Adams here to meet Nick. She needs to get out some energy, and Rick should be the right... fit."
Ms. DeVere nods in understanding, already making a mental note to set up the meeting with Nick, one of the regulars at the magazine's exclusive bimbos-only club. "I'll take care of it right away," she says with a satisfied smile. "You'll find that Mr. Jones is quite... accommodating." Her voice drops lower as she finishes the sentence, her gaze flickering momentarily to the former CEO before returning to her paperwork.
The blonde in question flushes again at the mention of Nick and what he might do with her newfound energy; part of her is nervous, but another part thrills at the thought of finally experiencing the pleasures that Bimbo Style promises. She looks up at you gratefully, silently promising to make you proud as her godfather within the magazine's pages.
I look at Miss Adams before she leaves. "Just a suggestion, you might want to stretch before you meet Nick. He knows how to help... release energy."
Nodding thoughtfully, the former CEO takes your advice to heart, knowing that you are truly her guide and protector now. With a deep breath, she gently touches her toes before straightening up, feeling refreshed and eager for the adventure ahead. As Ms. DeVere ushers her out of the office, Miss Adams turns back one last time, offering you a soft, tantalizing smile that promises obedience and passion in equal measure.
Jacob Cameron watches her leave with a satisfied smirk, his power over women growing stronger by the day. He looks to Ms. DeVere with an approving nod; she knows what he needs and always delivers. The life of a bimbo godfather was never supposed to be easy, but with people like this surrounding him, it's damn near perfect.
I look at Monica as she returns. "You look like you need to get some energy out."
The secretary's cheeks flush, her breath hitching as she tries to remain professional despite the innuendo. "I-I think I have everything under control, thank you," she stammers, her gaze shifting nervously to the paperwork on her desk. A telltale flicker of desire dances across her features, betraying the true nature of her thoughts.
"no no no." I wiggle my finger unapproving at her. "Come here." I motion for her to approach me. "How do you address a superior?"
Ms. DeVere hesitates before responding, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she tries to reconcile her professional and personal lives within the new bimbo paradigm. "Um... s-sir?" she ventures tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart races in anticipation of what might come next.
"Sir? I have been downgraded to sir?" I joke with her. "That hurts." I smile at her as I rub her cheek. "I thought you had an attraction to me."
Ms. DeVere shudders slightly at the touch, her entire body tense with desire. "N-no sir... I mean... Godfather," she stammers, blushing fiercely. "I-I am attracted to you, sir." She looks up at him with pleading eyes, her heart racing in anticipation of what he might demand of her next.
"If you are attracted to me, shouldn't you be calling me Master?" I point to the magazine. "Sir is for those you are not attracted to. Master is for those you would not hesitate to take."
Ms. DeVere's eyes flutter closed as she considers your words, her cheeks flushing brighter still. "O-of course... Master," she whispers hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the sound of her racing heart. She looks up at you with a mixture of fear and desire, praying that you will grant her permission to serve in this new and thrilling capacity.
Her breath catches as she waits for your response; each passing second seems like an eternity, filled with anticipation and the overwhelming knowledge that everything has changed from this moment forward. She is no longer simply a secretary or even the magazine's Godmother; she is now yours, body and soul.