Blowjob Blowdoll & No E In Girl

Round 1 Results (Due to the nature of the number of votes, a 5% margin is allowed for voting results to be treated as equal).

Blowjob Blowdoll: 40% (63 votes) | No E In Girl: 37% (58 votes) | Barbie Girl: 14% (22 votes) | From Riches To Rags 8% (13 votes)

Earnings so far: ($10)

Transformations so far: N/A

Cases opened: 18($), 13(B)

Emily stood uneasily as the votes ticked in. Four progress bars were visualized before her, with the votes centering around the managable-but-would-permanently-make-her-out-as-an-attention-seeking-harlot e-girl-fication one, and the much less manageable 'my face is for fucking' one. One was better than the other, but only really by a small margin. One would have her attracting attention and forcibly cosplay as a twitch-thot whilst the other would have her chronically induce oral-centric fantasies in anyone who looked at her. The only real 'consolation' was that she seemingly wasn't getting turned into a Barbie-Girl lookalike with more fillers than flesh in her face. She'd still be able to emote, at least...

A buzzing noise drowned out the soundscape of the stage, momentarily even swallowing that of the classical gameshow music, as the illustration on the board was trimmed down to present the selected options.

Wait -

Options?

Options plural?

"Aaand fingers off buzzers, folks, you're out of time! Let's see what you all voted for our lovely Emily, shall we?", Jack explained, flashing a momentary smirk at the shocked and confused contestant in question. "It looks like we have a tie! Now, I know I said that wasn't likely, Emily, but it looks like it's your lucky day! Or, ours, anyway. You're about to become a whole new you! Let's bring her up on the big screen, can we?", Jack asked, looking towards the jet-black void that intermittently revealed itself backstage, whenever the pink curtains fluttered. Emily's face appeared on the screen moments later, captured live by a camera she couldn't quite find out where was.

She could see herself in more detail, now; her dark brown hair that'd been arranged into a messy bun had become even messier, with stray locks opting to frame her somewhat pale face. A set of average lips, dark brown eyes and a slightly freckled nose looked back at her, with that slight flush of slow-cooking humiliation approaching.

"Now, Emily, you got a tie between the No E In Girl, and the Blowjob Blowdoll options. In effect, this means that you'll both, but each of them tuned just a bit so they synergize a bit better. I could explain the process in detail, of course, but as we so often find here on Bimbo Or Billionaire, sometimes, it's better to simply give a demonstration. Now, let's make Emily more...", Jack began, drawing out the last few words, pointing towards the audience with a big fat grin.

"Bimbo!", the audience yelled back enthusiastically, to which Emily couldn't bring herself to react with anything but a fake smile and elevated heartbeat.

The lights throughout the entire studio seemed to dim, focusing instead with a faint pastel-pink-tinted beam of skin-warming light that shone down upon the mortified tomboy. "But- You said it wasn't likely to-", Emily began to protest, only to immediately halt as she felt an unfamiliar tingling in her scalp. Looking at the monitor which suddenly came to life, she could once again see a close-up of herself - and she could see, in stunned awe, as her hair begun to move on its own, as if pulled up into the air by a set of spectral hands. Hot pink spiral hair ties seemed to coalesce from miniscule particles in the air, pinning her hair into a set of high twintails - albeit short ones, at that. "There's no way...", Emily then mumbled, helpless to do much but stare as the aforementioned hair begun to grow; lengthening, becoming noticeably heavier as the set of pigtails grew longer, briefly brushing past her shoulders before continuing on, and on, in a set of girlish, sexy voluminous pigtails, the tips reaching to somewhere around the middle of her back. She raised a hand to try and touch it - but stopped, as she then saw the color start to change; her brown hair seemed to bleach itself on the spot, pigments fading away like a drop of oil diffusing out into the entirety of the ocean. It didn't grow blonder and blonder, even if it did brighten; no, by the time the process was done, her hair was a soft, girly pastel pink.

Emily's eyes, wide as platters, turned towards Jack, mouth moving, yet no sounds escaping her. He produced a laugh in turn.

"That's right, Emily! Don't be too upset, we're not done yet! But yes, our.... state of the art technology, does indeed allow her to change your body at will! Don't fret, though, we usually play by our own rules. Nice lipstick, though.", he smirked.

"Huh?", Emily mumbled, eyes snapping to the big screen - where she could visually see the reason as to why her lips indeed, suddenly felt sticky, and her eyelids heavy. Her face was absolutely coated in makeup. Thick black eyeliner circled her eyes, whilst matching pink eyeshadow, in copious amounts, lingered above and around. The tip of her nose had been visibly dabbed in blush, and fake freckles were dotted over her cheeks. Her lips were a dark pink, bold and glossy, demanding attention. That was, perhaps, not the most discernible feature. That wasn't what made her cry out in a shrill shriek.

The sudden eruption of emotion came from the fact that her lips had then started to grow. And not just grow a little. Her lips were visibly, before her eyes, stretching outwards, inflating with what she simply assumed was collagen or some other filler material, rendering her lips less and less modest. Less and less average, unnoticable, thickening them outwards into a pair of swollen, almost rounded, fat cockpillows. There was truly no other, better word for it - they were about as thick as her finger, each of them, and seemed to visibly jut outwards in a slutty, inviting fucking pout. She could - she could fucking see them in the bottom of her peripheral vision, looking down.

"Oh gawd...", Emily mewled, feeling the thickness of the lips, almost as if they resisted excess motion. Naturally, and of course, shaping her lips into a slutty O seemed almost comfortable, to the point where she could've left her lips like that for hours.

By the time the show was done, of course, she just might - a thought that sent shivers down her spine, and which made the back of her perved-up little brain tingle in a way that was both interesting and horrifying. She looked like - she looked like porn. She looked like fresh Gen-Z gooner-bait porn material, the kind that had happily reduced herself to jerkbait and - well, actually, it might be more apt to say she looked like a suckdoll. Her fattened lips were so swollen, so heavily painted that one would perhaps be forgiven to forgetting that there was a person there, too.

"What do you think, Emily?", Jack asked, the lights returning to normal, some. The music shifted back to a calmer, more ambiance-esque soundscape, too.

Emily looked at Jack as the big screen returned to not showing her face, eyes - and mouth - wide.

"I - I look like a joke!" Emily replied. The audience laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say a joke, as much as - well, a bimbo! Though at this stage, you'd probably come off as more of a bimbo wannabe, you know? Still getting there. Which, speaking of - we need a new case number from you!", Jack explained, grinning like the cat that got the canary.

Emily stood there, speechless. "You - you want me to pick another case? That's gonna make this worse?!", she asked, gesturing towards her, admittedly, rather slutty-looking face.

Her pink pigtails swished and swayed as she spoke.

Jack smiled at her, unphased. "Well, either you choose a case, or we choose one for you. And let me tell you, you'd much prefer to choose one of your own, Emily..", he explained, letting the unannounced implication hang quietly in the air. Someone in the audience laughed. Emily glared.

"Fine. Give me case number... uh, 4?", Emily offered, feeling a whirling vortex of anxiety bubble and fizz inside of her stomach.

Jack couldn't look more smug if he tried to.

"Sure thing, Emily-doll! Chrissi, why don't you show us all what's waiting for Emily in case number 'uh, four'?", he called out, much to the audience's amusement.

Chrissi giggled vacuously, bouncing just enough to send her stupendous tits wobbling. "Woah, Jackie, you're starting to sound just like me!", she uttered gleefully, much to the audience's amusement. Jack simply grinned at her, eyes resting upon her stupendous ass as she wobbled and trotted in her fuck-me pumps across the rows as she made her way towards the aforementioned case.

"Don't worry, Chrissi, I'm sure Emily here won't be too far behind..."

Chrissi haphazardly opened the case - and as soon as Emily's worried eyes set down upon the dollar sign that it revealed, she produced an audible breath of relief, feeling her shoulders drop down. The crowd half-cheered -- clearly this wasn't their preferred outcome. Nevertheless, the large screen on the stage lit up once more, showcasing the progress bar for her cash earnings - and she watched, with a hear that sunk like a stone through honey, as the meter rose up from the $10 stage, to a measly $100. Not remotely near the target sum that'd let her win, but - a step in the right direction, at least.

Uneasily, Emily began to rub her inflated, pillowy lips against one another, chewing nervously on the bottom one. With the makeup caked upon her face and her handlebar-pigtails, it suddenly got immensely hard for the men in the room to not imagine shoving something between her lips.

"Emily, you still with us?", Jack inquired after a moment. Distracted, Emily snapped back to reality, turning to face Jack. It was impossible to tell that she was blushing underneath the cosmetic blush already layered upon her fuckdolly face.

"I- Yes, sorry."

"We're going to need another case, as you know," Jack smugly reminded her.

Fuck.

"Uh, case number 1?", Emily tried. And just like before, the routine followed - some sexist line towards the bimbothot wobbling between the cases, a vapid announcement of her lacking intellect, and some sleazy laughter from the audience. Emily gritted her teeth, fingers clutching a little more firmly around the edges of her own podium, staring intently.

And her shoulders dropped significantly, as, indeed to both her own, and the audience's amusement, another cash case was revealed - making the cash ladder on the screen above rise up by another factor of 10, leaving her at a hopeful $1000. Maybe this was- maybe this was doable, after all?

"Wow! Another cash case, Emily here is on a roll!", Jack announced contently. "Can she keep it up? If she does, I wouldn't be too surprised if the Accountant swoops in with an offer or two! Let's hear it for Emily, folks! Just one more case, and we'll do a brief intermission for our scheduled commercials. But - first! Emily, why don't you offer us one more number? You've gone through case four, eighteen, thirteen, and now one. What's next?"

Emily stared at the cases, feeling some kind of - pressure to perform, which hadn't been there before. Suddenly, it felt as if the fall height was greater than it had been just one case ago. She rapidly flicked her tongue over her swollen cockpillows, leaving behind a bold, positively pornographic sheen of saliva.

"Uhh. Case 19, maybe?", Emily offered.

"Alright, Chrissi, be a good girl and show us case number 19, would you?", Jack requested - and the spotlights spun and focused on the wobblethot, who proceeded to prance over towards the case - gingerly peeling it open, careful to not ruin any of her too-long nails.

The crowd cried out in excitement, 'woo's and 'yeahs's and even mocking laughter spilled forth. Almost all of it, of course, in masculine tones.

"Oooh! A shame, Emily, but at least that'll make for an interesting round! You've got a Joker! Now, this is a wildcard, which in essence means that the categories and options you're about to see can be basically anything! Exciting, isn't it?"

It was hard to see through the fuckdolly makeup and slightly rigid, swollen lips, but Emily was mortified.

"That's- That's not what I'd call it..", she replied tentatively.

"Don't worry, it'll be great. Now, let's see Emily's options, shall we?"

The screen up top shifted, momentarily informing how Emily now had opened two out of a possible ten bimbo cases, into a set of options, which promptly started to explain.

"First off, we have Inverted Latex Allergy, which in effect makes you just allergic enough to clothing fabrics to make you unable to wear them yourself. The exception to this, of course, will be as you guessed, latex. The shiny, tight stuff worn by fetish models and high-end callgirls will be Emily's only option, here on out. And last I checked, finding modest or mundane latex clothing isn't easy...", Jack explained, grinning.

"Next up, also inverted, is Don't Wanna Be A Prude! This change effectively turns Emily's sense of modesty and respect upside down. Modest, normal clothes will aggressively disgust her, the same way trashy slutwear currently does - but slutty outfits and porno-ready heels will feel much more reasonable, safe. In short, in a way, she'll see modest clothes as trashy or slutty, and vice versa!"

Emily paled at the very idea.

"Our third option is called Yanking Your Chain. Here, pulling, twisting, or playing with Emily's new, permanent pigtails will flood her system with endorphines and other funny chemicals that'll immediately send her into a slutty, lust-fueled stupor of submission! The word 'no' won't exist, and there's virtually no limits as to what she'll agree to! The one holding her 'chains', will be the one calling the shots, after-all.", Jack explained, grinning wickedly towards Emily.

"What?! That's fucking awful, you can't-"

"Aaaand finally, there's Aspiring Bimbo, which will significantly change Emily's outlook on bimbofication. She's already got the fetish there, so this change will simply hypercharge it to the point of it becoming an obsession. To hammer the nail properly, of course, this change will also give her that classical valley-girl vocabulary and appropriate speech patterns. Or should I say, inappropriate?", Jack laughed, in tandem with the audience.

"Fuck you!", Emily cried at him. Despite the gritted teeth, the carefully plucked brows, heavy eyeshadow and the plump, vaguely O-shaped lips made quick work of a look of anger and frustration that might otherwise have been possible to take seriously. Instead, she just looked like she was ready to hatefuck someone.

"Now now, Emily, remember to play by the rules. You've seen what can happen to you when you follow the rules like a good girl - I'm sure you wouldn't want to find out what we can do if you misbehave, do you?", Jack asked, with a wide, punchably smug grin that stretched from one ear to the next.

The timer high up began to tick down.

"And who knows? Misbehave too much, and the audience might go for the worst options, just to take you down a notch..."

Vote here:

https://strawpoll.com/40Zm4GqLlga