Emily, a perverted tomboy in denial

It started with the abrupt emergence of white-hot lights, burning into her retinas. Emily found herself jerking to a standing position from a resting position, in the same type of motion a rake engages in when stepped on. Without thinking, she instinctively grabbed a hold of the glossy, hot pink podium in front of her, from which a single, simple microphone jutted out in her direction. After a few moment, the auditory and visual overstimulation began to fade, however - gradually letting into view the remainder of the stage she was on, as well as a mostly-darkened crowd with only vaguely distinguishable features. They almost didn't look human, some of them. Squinting slightly, Emily cast her eyes out to try and make sense of the situation - whilst what sounded like some kind of pop-like anthem boomed at a manageable-but-disruptive level. On the stage, there was - some man in a suit, talking. She couldn't quite make out what he was saying - it came out muffled, albeit less and less so with each moment. Behind him stood a full matrix of smaller podiums, each with a pink, glittery box, or suitcase, maybe, on top of it.

She heard someone snapping. Huh?

"ily?"

"Emily? Emily, can you hear me?" - the man on the stage said. He was now more properly focused, less... blurry. He looked, with no degree of exaggeration, like the stereotypical punchable asshole. He had short blonde hair, pulled back slickly, a smug, undeniably handsome face, and his well-built frame was wrapped in a well-fitted suit.

"Huh?", Emily replied - confused. She heard the crowd laugh. Was this a dream?

"There we go! Please, everyone, give a warm welcome to our newest contestant, Emily!", the host(?) exclaimed, to which the crowd roared. Emily felt her throat pinch shut for a moment, before she got a hold of herself.

"Uh, hello?", Emily awkwardly called out.

"Hello indeed! I'm sure you have many questions, dear Emily, and I'll do my best to answer most of them! First off, my name is Jack. I'm the host of the show you're appearing on. You're not quite in your reality anymore - this show exists in a sort of..mm.. betweenspace of worlds, if you will. But don't you worry, we'll drop you back where we picked you up by the end of the game!", Jack explained.

Game?

"Game? What- What game?"

The crowd roared once more, and Jack smiled as if he'd been waiting for her to ask that exact question. "Why, of course, dear Emily! You're the star of today's episode of...", he called out, extending his microphone towards the crowd, which yelled out in unison,

"Bimbo! Or! Billionaire!"

"What?", Emily asked, understandably dumbfounded.

"That's right! This is your chance to earn enough cash to set you up for life - OR, should you be so unlucky, end up like Chrissi here. Chrissi, why don't you say hello?", Jack called out - and motioned towards the aforementioned pink cases, between which a blonde - there was indeed no other word for her - bimbo - stood. She looked like a living piece of sex; long, wavy, platinum blonde hair, swollen lips, blue eyes, massive tits - and all of it wrapped into a pink bandage dress so short Emily was half-certain she could see her underwear.

"Hiiii~!", the woman bleated out, her voice lingering somewhere between valley girl and helium-balloon.

Emily's jaw hung slack, her mouth agape in a mixture of shock, confusion - and though she had no intention of openly admitting it - envy.

Emily looked like the woman's antithesis. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was messily arranged into a bun, kept in place with an elastic approaching its final days. A loose-fitting white cotton t-shirt up top, a set of gray sports sneakers, a pair of loose-fitting black-leather jeans and a face wholly lacking of any kind of makeup helped render her both a little tomboyish, but had - as she was well aware - the funny side effect of making her resemble the starting girls of countless bimbofication-themed art pieces one could find online. One of Emily's many secret fetishes, in truth.

"Emily here is a 28-year old data entry clerk from California, in the good old U-S of A. As you can see, she's about as bland as they come - She's also currently single, and lives alone in a small apartment.", Jack explained to the audience.

"Wh- Hey!" Emily interjected - frowning.

"On her part time, she's an avid gamer, and spends an impressive amount reading some pretty **** erotica. If the content's anything to go by, she's got a full repertoire of kinks. Humiliation, feminization, objectification, corruption - and wouldn't you know - bimbofication, too! This little sweetheart was just begging for a round on our show, don't you think, folks?", Jack laughed.

Emily stood there, pale as a corpse - mortified. "What? No! That's- That's not true..", Emily retorted, her heart absolutely thumping in her chest. God.

Jack moved towards her podium, grinning in the way that only a gameshow host could. "C'mon, Emily. Admit it. You know as well as I do that you see Chrissi over there, and there's a part of you longing to be just like her. To shed all that... boyishness.", he smirked.

"That's- No, that's not..."

"Aaaanyways!", Jack swiveled, moving back towards the center stage. "This game is quite simple! See those cases over there? They'll either contain a cash prize, or one of many life-changing bimbo punishments waiting for you. And all you have to do, sweetheart, is pick a case. See the table up there? That's your score, alongside the various punishments - and indeed rewards - you can stumble across! The game ends when you reach either 10 punishment cases, or 10 reward cases - or if something funny happens along the way that lets us change up the rules. Simple!", Jack explained.

Emily peered up towards the board, where, indeed, the various punishments and rewards she could obtain were listed. Five reward cases, five cash prizes, and a total of 10 various punishment categories.

"It'll come more naturally to you as you start playing, so why don't you start us off by giving us a number between 1 and 20?", Jack offered, flashing a wide grin at Emily, who was in turn both overwhelmed and, indeed, stunned.

"What?", she simply replied.

The audience laughed.

"A number! Between, or equal to a number between one and twenty!", Jack informed her.

"Uh, uhm - 18?", Emily offered.

"Alright! Chrissi, why don't you let Emily take a look at case 18?", Jack called out, which caught the walking Barbie doll's attention. "Who?", she chirped, looking dumbly at him with her rounded lips slightly parted.

"The contestant, Chrissi! Open case 18 for her, please!", Jack guided her - making a show of rolling his eyes, to the audience's continued amusement. "Girls, am I right?"

Chrissi, meanwhile, teetered over on her high-heeled platforms, until she gingerly opened up the pink case - revealing a cash symbol. The audience cheered, and Jack clapped his hands together. "That's a fantastic start, Emily! You're working your way there. It won't seem like much now, but the cash prizes grow exponentially - a word I'm glad you still understand, or this would've been much harder to explain!", Jack told her. Emily's grip on the podium tightened.

"Uh, okay? How- How much did I win?", Emily gingerly asked.

Jack smiled at her. "You're currently at ten dollars, Emily. But! It's a great start! Why don't you give us another number? Cook while the oven's hot, or whatever you guys say nowadays."

Emily shifted a bit uneasily. This - this sure felt like a dream still, albeit an oddly detailed one. "Uh, give me case 13, then, Jack?", she tried, feeling a little bit more confident than she had previously.

"Case 13! Chrissi, if you'd be so kind as to show us what's inside case 13?", Jack asked, his eyes lingering upon the absurdist statement piece that was Chrissi's rounded ass.

"Okie-dokie, Jackie!", she sung back, giggling and almost seeming to bounce over in her outrageously high, acrylic heels, until she got to the case - and slowly opening it, revealing the image of a head with a ponytail. The crowd gave a collective Ooooooh, and Jack's sleazy-ass smile towards Emily made her heart sink. "Is that one of the good ones?", Emily couldn't help but ask.

"Well, depends on who you ask! I'd say yes, but I don't think you'd agree! You've landed on your first Bimbo case here, Emily, and the category in question, as you might be able to surmise, is Hair & Face. Now! The way this works, is that the board here will, in a moment, light up with various options. The audience will then have a total of one minute to vote on an option for you, after which you'll get whatever the audience thinks should be coming to you! In rare cases, there's a tie, in which case all the tied options are applied, but I wouldn't worry about that."

Emily felt a tightness in her chest. She'd read enough stories and watched enough... art to know just how crucial the face was. It was the front end of one's identity, like the hood of a car, and the hair almost equally so. "Uh, okay..?", she weakly mumbled in turn, warranting a wink from the host in question.

"Why don't we go over the options, then? In order, we start out with a classic - the Blowjob Blowdoll- which will give dear Emily here a truly enormous set of lips, that will constantly be covered in an intense shade of glossy hot pink, and she'll be given a matching mane of cotton-candy pink hair pulled into one of those sexy pigtails - and, of course, otherwise wearing enough makeup to make it clear you've spent an enormous amount of time making yourself look like a porn star. Next up, we have the interesting From Riches To Rags - in which your face will always, at a minimum, be decorated in noticeable, but overall sexy makeup. However, as a fun twist, this makeup will over time turn progressively heavier and sluttier, and will be impossible to remove with any kind of solvent other than fresh semen. Good way to learn to appreciate a facial, huh?", Jack teased, to the significantly paler-looking, visibly distressed Emily.

"Next! We have No E In Girl - which will give our lovely contestant a full workup of the egirl or gamer-girl look! Think dyed hair, blue or purple lipsticks, neon colors, the works! Finally, the one we suspect would be at the top of Emily's list - if her search bar is anything to go by - there's Barbie Girl - which will give our dear Emily here a full workup to look like a wannabe Barbie Girl. Long, straight platinum blonde hair, false lashes, lip fillers, and a delightfully slutty amount of makeup which will provide others with no doubt of what kind of girl she is. How do you like your options, Emily?", Jack inquired.

Emily was - Emily was shaking. And on some level she'd loved to have claimed none of the added blood rush came from the fucked up, horny part of her brain that had cooked itself to porn of this sort an unending number of times in the past. "You've got to be joking?", she half-stuttered out. "These- There's no coming back from any of this! This can't be real, this- I'm dreaming. That's - that's the only explanation that makes sense.", Emily explained, mostly attempting to convince herself, more so than anyone else.

"Well, if that's the case, then you should simply lean into it and enjoy it before you wake up, don't you think? In either case - audience, the voting starts... NOW. Remember! You have one minute to vote for whatever fate you want in store for our lovely contestant."

Emily looked at the options listed on the board, each one more horrifying than the next. And had she been reading about this, instead of actually living it, she'd probably be turned on, too.

Part of her was, but-

A small part.

Vote here: https://strawpoll.com/wby5QaWm8yA