Bimbo Accountant: From Bland to Blonde | free bimbofication story

CHAPTER ONE

A dull light peeked through the partially drawn curtains, casting an irritating beam of iridescence across Emily’s writing. She’d been slaving away at tax forms for weeks now and it was all becoming enough to drive a woman insane. The weather outside was excruciatingly gorgeous and she could have no part of it because work had piled over her head and there was no way to dig herself out of that mess other than to actually do it. She sighed under her breath and crossed out some calculations she had done on a separate sheet, glaring at them hatefully. It would be nice for at least the math to check out, even if she could only loan about half of her brain power to the task at the time.

Her legs were curled under her on the wide leather office chair, still dressed in pajama bottoms and a ratty t-shirt. Long dull brown hair was set up in a loose, messy bun, secured with a pair of (clean!) chopsticks she had found on her first trip to the kitchen for her morning coffee. Her horn-rimmed glasses teetered perilously on the end of her slim nose, threatening to come falling off of her delicate, but completely forgettable features. A half-eaten bagel sat on top of a pile of reference books and lukewarm coffee was partially hidden under the growing mess of paperwork that littered her desk.

“I hate tax season,” she grumbled loudly across the small apartment, her sole captive audience composed of the red tabby cat that slept on the couch. He barely moved the tip of his ear before going back to willfully ignoring the disgruntled female. Emily scribbled another long line of digits on some notebook paper and then promptly colored over them with wide strikes of her pen. She rested her head on her hands, still holding onto the pen, and moaned to herself. Nothing was going as she had planned it.

The original plan of attack had estimated that she’d be long done by now with all of it. Emily was an accountant for several small businesses and private clients, working primarily out of her nondescript apartment in a less than stellar part of Brooklyn. She had gone to great pains preparing for this year and as it did every year, the work completely got away from her. Old forgotten clients piled out of the woodworks, practically begging her to tackle the tangled messes that made up their paperwork, while other more reliable clients turned up with double the expected documentation, which lead to having to work twice as hard and thrice as long to accomplish anything. The only minor upside to it all was that her bank account was looking plusher than it had in years. The rather unfortunate downside, however, was that she could feel her sanity slipping away about as quickly as her income was growing, if not faster.

Her misery had gone from hanging her head to resting it mutely on the hardwood table, thinking dreary thoughts and hating herself for ever deciding to become an accountant. It was mind-numbing work and her mother had always told her she was such a bright girl. Could have become a doctor or a physicist or something, but nope, she had to choose a life of mediocrity and stale coffee. Her mood really wasn’t great at the moment.

Emily checked the clock on the wall and frowned. It was almost noon. She had gotten nowhere with the things she had planned to do that morning, but it was time to take the chopsticks out of her hair and rush to a meeting that had been planned for her at 1 PM. Her long legs uncurled from the protective balled-up position and touched the chilly ground, before finding her slippers and shuffling off towards the bedroom. She was far from enthusiastic about the whole thing, but bills needed paying and even during tax season she couldn’t say no to a potential new customer.

A friend of hers, Missy, had set it up for her. She had described the client as a ‘nice little old lady who runs a specialty shop’, which could have meant anything from a sex shop to a Chinese noodle place for all Emily knew. With a certain amount of resignation, she dressed in some comfy jeans and a pullover that wasn’t too tight, combed back her hair and checked her teeth. With everything looking as per usual, she grabbed her worn bag, stepped into her comfy slippers, threw on her coat and off she went on another daring adventure to accountant mediocrity.

Emily in general was a rather unremarkable woman. She wasn’t tall or short and everything else about her was bland at best. Her eyes were a lovely blue shade, but just a bit too light to really be striking. Her hair was medium length and healthy, but thin and unremarkable even with the best shampoo commercial treatment. Emily’s figure was stuck between flat as a board and that odd phase that 13-year-old boys get when they start growing in every which direction without any rhyme or reason for it.

On top of that, she had a hard time giving a damn about what she looked like, so the combination of all those things and her sheltered lifestyle made for a woman who had done her best to not see life in particularly bright colors. She wanted to tell herself that it was all going according to her master plan, but she knew full well that as much as she wanted things to be different, she could never muster the courage to change anything.

In her dreams, she was a gorgeous heroine, swooping about and solving complicated mysteries and getting swept away by dashing men on horseback (or in a nice Ferrari, depending on the age of the fairytale), lauded for her brains and beauty. In reality, she was a woman who barely dated and had about four friends who remembered that she existed to begin with. It was not an enchanted life.

Emily hiked through the busy streets of New York, catching the metro and drudging through unknown streets until she was so far away from any place she recognized that she may as well have been in Africa. Instead, she had wandered into China Town and as many a tourist before her had found, it was hard to get directions around there. Finally, she found the street she was looking for and after wading through a convoluted numbering system, even the right building.

The mousy maiden was standing in front of a little magic shop, which had dried heads of various sizes and ethnicities hanging above stuffed rodents and bottles of questionable-looking powders. It looked to be fairly dark inside without a single patron milling about, but Emily figured that could be expected. After all, how many dried heads did the average New Yorker need in their household? She would like to think that the number was somewhere between zero and minus ten.

Emily gulped before she pushed through the door and entered the iffy looking little shop. The door closed with a click behind her and she cast a few questioning glances around herself, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Unbeknownst to herself, she had just stepped into what would be the makings of one of the biggest adventures she would ever have.

CHAPTER TWO

The whole place smelled like incense and lost innocence. Emily hadn’t been aware that she could smell stolen virtue before, but supposedly one learns something new about themselves every day. She walked through the tiny store with careful steps, trying not to bump into any of the creepy cupboards and shelves, filled to the brim with eerie contents. Emily pulled the coat around herself a bit tighter, even though it was not cold in there.

“Hello?” she called out, trying to hide the quake in her voice.

“C’mon, I’m in the back, dearie!” a chipper voice echoed back from somewhere deeper in the store, allowing the woman to take a few more confident steps and round the corner to the back area of the store. She was faced with a wilted shadow of a woman who could just as well play the part of a mossy knoll without anyone being the wiser. The little crooked-looking woman sat behind a round table with a worn red tablecloth tossed over it and seemed to be laying out Tarot cards in front of her.

“Don’t be shy, Emily. Come sit down, I was expecting you,” the little lump of an old lady said, waving the accountant over. Emily squared her shoulders and slunk closer, taking the chair that she was offered opposite of the peculiar patron. She tried not to stare too much, but it was pretty much impossible. The woman was hunched over and almost uniformly gray, from the tips of her ragged looking hair to the tattered shawl tossed over her shoulders. She had a crooked nose and seemed to be missing a few teeth and all in all she could have probably had an illustrious career as a Disney villain.

“So, I understand you need some accounts taken care of,” Emily began, trying to shake the discomfort from herself. The little woman shushed her and started putting down cards in front of her, looking quite focused on the task. Emily piped down and watched to woman count out the same cards time and time again, each shuffle producing the same result. Emily, of course, didn’t have the slightest clue as to what it could mean, but the owner of the creepy store seemed to be rather enthralled by it. Finally, she looked up and gave the confused accountant a crooked smile.

“Well, it seems you’re in for a bit of a twirl. I’ll e-mail you my info later tonight,” she said, fumbling around for something in her pockets as Emily frowned with slight confusion.

“E-mail?” she stammered, finding it difficult to believe that such an old-timey looking gal could have been affected by the knowledge revolution.

“Yup, e-mail. I have your address, don’t you worry at all. But dearie, the cards are rather clear, you need to make a big change in your life. None of this drab nonsense you’ve been going with for your whole life! Promise me you’ll take a few days off and have fun before you start with the paperwork again, okay? Tax season is long!” she cackled happily, and before Emily could say anything, the perplexing creature threw a handful of dust at her and chanted something in Latin.

Emily coughed and rubbed her eyes as they started to water when the dust hit her. She scowled, trying to get the fine grains out of her windpipe.

“Why did you do that?!” she asked, only to be treated to a dismissive hand gesture. The tiny witch jumped off of her seat, now becoming even shorter, and ushered Emily out of her seat and towards the front door without much of an explanation.

“You’ll see, you’ll see,” she mumbled, poking at Emily to get along faster. A few seconds later, the door of the small ‘specialty shop’ closed behind her with a bang and Emily found herself back on an off street in China Town, covered with dust and still hacking up some of the stuff from her throat.

Definitely the oddest meting I’ve ever had, she thought to herself as she headed back towards the metro station.

When the young, generally uninteresting accountant reached her apartment, she made a straight beeline for her bed and barely managed to kick off her sneakers before collapsing on the covers, still wearing her jacket. She’d been battling falling asleep during the trip home and it had become a fight that seemed more impossible to win by the minute. When she finally reached her apartment, her sigh of relief actually spooked the cat. Emily had been feeling faint and tingly ever since getting doused with the dust. If it weren’t for the sleepiness, she would have been sure to scratch herself all over as if she was suffering from bad case of fleas.

Never going to meet an odd job in person again, she thought before her consciousness drifted off to sleep. She would only be given a few hours of rest before another accountant was set to come meet her to discuss some work related issues. Thankfully, she had set an alarm to go off half an hour before the meeting, which was fortunate since the girl really had no recollection of any previous engagement by the time she got home.

CHAPTER THREE

When the girl finally awoke, the sun had almost set. She yawned deeply and shrugged of the jacket, a big smile on her face. Emily felt somehow different, better. She gave herself a curious look and her mind skipped a beat when she saw that the body she was inhabiting did not resemble her ordinary bland self at all. Her breasts were almost bursting out of her top and her waist had shrunk to a distant memory of what it once was. All of her features felt more limber, somehow prettier and smaller. Her ass had grown in size and was now attempting to rip a seam on her favorite jeans and her nails had suddenly become long and pink. The woman frowned to herself and got up, heading towards the bathroom to see what was going on.

She did a double-take when she was faced with her reflection. Her hair was long, luscious and blonde now, the perfect tone of rich housewives and California beach babes. Once thin and faint lips had become full and lush, almost seeming to glisten under the lighting. Her blue eyes had become a stark baby-blue and her cheekbones were higher while her chin was smaller. The only feature seemingly left intact was her delicate nose. Against better judgment, Emily smiled widely at her reflection and gave a little twirl. She stripped down to her underwear and admired her newfound body, tight and perfect as it was. Her bra did a shoddy job at containing her new, bigger breasts and she unclasped the flimsy garment, allowing it to fall on the ground.

Everything felt somehow happier, better. Her head was cleared from all of the worries that had pestered her that morning and it felt like nothing really mattered anymore, aside from maybe having some fun. She twisted her nipples and bit her lip as they perked up, lifting the heavy globes with her hands and letting them fall down to really feel the weight. Emily had suddenly been given the body she never knew she wanted and her constantly worrying brain had been wiped clean of woes and questions, free to enjoy her new bimbo self.

Every little touch and sensation felt as if it was heightened tenfold, her body responding deliciously to her own touch. She was just about to slip her fingers down her tight stomach and sample her slit, curious if that had been changed as well, when a doorbell rung and dragged her out of her revelry. The girl huffed, a sliver of a distant memory floating back to her about some arranged meeting that day that didn’t involve creepy little ladies. Emily grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, bounding out of the bright bathroom and towards the front door.

Oh, I hope it’s a man, she thought to herself, not stopping to ponder why she hoped for that.

When she pulled the door open, her face lit up with a gorgeous smile and she ushered her visitor in with enthusiastic greetings and active hand motions that threatened to bring her towel toppling off of her ample breasts. The caller was indeed a gentleman and a mighty handsome one at that. He adjusted his glasses with slight nervousness and skulked in, taking off his camel-colored jacket and hanging it by the door. The fellow accountant was tall, broad shouldered and had steely gray eyes. He was obviously uncomfortable in the presence of a barely clothed female, but one could hardly hold that against him. Though, admittedly the first thought Emily had gotten when she sighted him was that she would greatly enjoy straddling him.

“Are you Emily Slinsky? I’m James McArthur and I believe we were supposed to have a meeting. Very sorry if I caught you at an inopportune time.” he said, a nervous question in his voice. He seemed less than comfortable with her scant clothing. Emily nodded happily and plopped down on the couch, making the cat yelp and trundle off somewhere to be a different kind of nuisance. She patted the cushion next to her and the man took a seat, clutching his case. He was a slightly geeky kind of hot, but still hot.

Emily inhaled deeply, catching his musky scent in her nostrils, and she could feel herself getting wet immediately. At any other time she would have blushed like a schoolgirl, but not now. This new, better Emily was not bothered by conventional wisdom and morality, instead she went with her gut and what her gut was telling her now was that she would very much like to have a cock inside of her.

“Well, okay,” he said, trying to avoid the girl’s lustful gaze. She was biting her lower lip in excitement as she stared at him as if he was the last man on earth and apparently that didn’t make a man feel particularly at ease. “I’d like to discuss our shared client, Wholesome Apples Inc, with you, if you don’t mind. It seems that the-“ but he never got to the end of his sentence, as Emily had flung herself at him and kissed him deeply.

The man floundered for a moment, not knowing what to do with his hands, and by the time he regained some control over his extremities he found the blue-eyed, grinning blonde sitting squarely in his lap. She grazed over her lower lip with pearly white teeth, her eyes wide as she let her finger slip down his chin, admiring the man that had so suddenly arrived in her little apartment. Emily cocked her head to the side and nuzzled closer to him, letting her thighs latch around his hips tightly. The man was breathing heavily and she couldn’t help but giggle a little as she felt the beginnings of an erection forming in his pants, whether he liked it or not.

“Mister McArthur, would you like to fuck?” she asked, her voice bright and clear as a bell. The man just stared at her, mouth slightly agape. It seemed that the fine accountant had lost his capability to speak, but the throbbing member under Emily told her all she needed to know. A small voice in the back of her head questioned her sanity and urged her to stop, but there was no denying what she wanted. Emily desired to be speared by a big fat cock and she wasn’t going to stop before one pounded into her. Whatever the little witch had done to her, it had the makings of a very fun afternoon.

Her new body still distracted the girl with its enticing curves and tightness and she took the towel off, tossing it over her shoulder on the coffee table. The bimbo accountant kneaded her tits, pinching her nipples with her long bright pink nails, keeping her eyes on James. He was yet to regain his voicebox and Emily was beginning to worry that she may have caused the man to have a stroke or something. Then again, as long as his cock was working, she wouldn’t care too much.

“What’s the matter, Mister McArthur? Don’t you like my breasts?” she asked, her voice betraying the tiniest bit of sadness.

Finally, the man came out of his stupor and he shook his head quickly, mesmerized by the willing, lusty treat of a woman that had suddenly offered herself to him. His cheeks were burning red with surprise and his cock was rock hard by now, pressing into Emily’s thigh. She bit her lip again and looked down, allowing her hands to start unbuckling the belt on his boring slacks.

“I think you have very nice, uh, breasts, Miss Slinsky,” he stammered, unsure of what to do with himself. Emily had conquered his pants by then and her hand slinked underneath the fabric, grasping his hard rod in her delicate hands.

“Well, it’s very rude not to touch them then, Mister McArthur. It would be in the best interest of all of us if you would just fuck me now, please. Pretty please. I’ve been a bad accountant and I really need some cock in me,” she whispered, leaning close to the man and pushing her breasts almost in his face. The man’s breathing had hastened and the bimbo could see a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He took off his glasses and with a sigh of relief, buried his head in her ample bosom.

Emily giggled happily and wiggled her shoulders a bit, making her tits bounce against his face. She stroked his cock with nimble hands, the rod growing to an impressive size under her caring touch. Who knew an accountant could be packing that much heat in his pants? The voice that yelled at Emily to be sensible was starting to get muffled and drowned out by the millions of other voices that wanted to be thoroughly skewered and fucked senseless. A sense of urgency came over the girl and she pushed down his pants enough to fully reveal the thick cock.

Both of them groaned a little, the man at the sight of her excitement and the bimbo at the presence of hard, throbbing, delicious dick. She pushed her thong aside, revealing a fully shaved bush (which had not been the case when she left the house in the morning) and without further ado, rose above James’s hips and sunk down. Emily screamed out as the man grabbed her by her hips and forced her down with one smooth motion, finally getting on the same page as she was. Her tight, yearning pussy opened slowly to his massive cock and the little bimbo was having a hard time fitting him all, despite how wet she was.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” James whispered, the girl answering with another giggle. She couldn’t have imagined herself doing anything like that in her wildest dreams, but whatever it was that had changed her body had changed her mind as well and now she was completely sure that there was nothing she wanted more than to be fucked, humiliated and used. The girl whimpered a bit as she tried to fit it more to no avail.

After a few failed tries, James had reached his patients and grabbed her securely by her waist before he thrust up, plowing into her. Emily could feel something pop inside of her and then the cock sunk in deeper, giving her the satisfaction she needed. They looked at each other with mild surprise. If she didn’t know any better, then going by the tinge of pain she was feeling she could have sworn that she had just gotten her virginity plucked from her, for the second time in her life.

As much as she was a wallflower, even Emily had managed to snag some dick a few times in her life. The question thankfully didn’t linger too long in her mind and the girl happily got back to the task at hand. She reached back and fondled his heavy balls with one hand, her long fingers wrapping around the sac and toying with it. James groaned and it was music to her ears. He leant forward and sucked one of her nipples in his mouth and that small act felt like the best thing she had experienced in just about forever.

Her breasts were heavy and perfectly round, James’s lips and tongue happily showing them the attention she was begging for.

“Yessss, thank you, mister McArthur. Thank you for fucking me,” Emily whimpered, her voice at the same time alien to her and more her own than ever before. All her hidden, repressed desires were allowed to float to the top now and there were no inhibitions any longer. Her little world was filled with the desire to be taken and used and it seemed there could be nothing better in the world to be treated as just a bimbo cumslut.

The man could barely nod in response. He tore off his shirt and lifted her off his lap, to the tune of heavy protests from the girl.

“Shut up, whore,” the mild-mannered accountant suddenly hissed, which Emily did with a happy grin on her lips.

“Yes, Sir.” He flipped her around on the couch, dragging her thong down and slapping her ass, which she thrust towards him as she grabbed the backrest of the couch. James stepped out of his shoes and pants, his tight muscles rippling under the scant light from the window, the day slowly trickling towards its finish. He spread her legs roughly and Emily couldn’t be happier for it.

Another heavy slap landed on her ass and Emily peeked over her shoulder at her visitor, trying not to look too satisfied with what he was doing. It felt entirely liberating, to no longer have to hide behind the facade of good manners and sensible choices. Being in a body that wasn’t her own had given her all the desire and willingness to submit to her primal urges and it was delightful that a man with a monster cock hidden in his slacks had happened along just in time. He slapped her once more and then it was too much for the man to take.

James plunged back into her tight wetness, making the girl scream out as he rammed in deep, willing her with his hungry cock. He was ruthless, no hint of his former coyness notable in his actions. Each thrust was to the hilt and he pulled out before each of them, making sure that both of them got the full experience of rock-hard cock in a small, sopping slit. She moaned and screamed under his controlling grasp, bucking back whenever he would let her. One of his hands had wrapped around her long blonde hair, tugging at it whenever he wanted her to arch her back more or take him more willingly. She was a slut to his desire and that was exactly how she wanted it to be.

Emily’s nails dug into the soft cushions as the man violated her without regard, making her body hum with pleasure. Hot and cold flashes were jutting through her, making her shiver and shake every time he pushed into her again, filling her with his throbbing rod. She reveled in the sucking sound it made when he pulled out and the soft squish as the sunk into her again, time and time again with his pace hastening as he went on. He was enjoying this shocking fantasy as much as she was and the girl had an inkling suspicion that he would never be able to look at a blonde chick with a big rack quite the same.

Emily enjoyed the thought of him having to hide a raging boner every time he walked past a bimbo. She wanted to make every man feel like that, to lust for her hot body and her delicious curves. Her head was filled with thoughts of walking down the street in a tiny dress that clung to her bolted on breasts and heels so high that no normal woman could walk in them. She could only imagine how good it would feel to find someone completely random and suck him off in an alleyway, make his dreams come true as her pussy was soaked with her own juices.

Her screams turned into powerful moans and she could feel her slit start to milk the man’s big cock. She wanted his cum, she wanted all of it and she hoped he would be kind enough to allow it to her.

“Sir, can I cum?” she asked breathlessly, looking over her shoulder with her blonde hair sticking to her face. The man’s face was contorted with the effort of keeping himself from finishing in her, to take her for as long as he could. His fingers gripped her narrow hips with a deathly grasp and he threw her a quick glance and a not.

“Yes, cum, you whore,” he hissed and it was like music to her ears.

The girl threw her head back and allowed the waves of pleasure to wash over her, to consume her in a mind-blowing orgasm the likes she had never felt. It was more than she thought she could handle and the newly minted bimbo shivered and shook in spasms, small muscles contracting around James’s rod and making it harder for him to keep his resolve. Emily wailed under the might of her release. When she was finally about to collapse on the couch, James pulled out of her and dragged her on the floor by her hair.

She only whimpered a little as she landed on her knees in front of the formerly shy accountant. He slapped her cheek and made her open her mouth, shoving the head of his cock between her lush lips. Emily suckled on it like it was the most natural thing to do. The girl moaned and opened her mouth wider, stretching it around his large dick. He tasted delicious, all covered with her juices and with a hint of precum glistening on the tip. James’s hands grasped her blonde locks and he shoved his hips closer to her, filling her roughly. Emily allowed him to sink into her throat and found to her surprise that her gag-reflex was all but gone. The witch had really done a thorough job with turning her into a sex-crazed slut.

He face-fucked her mercilessly, the girl’s nails digging into his thighs. James was close to his finish and Emily wanted all he had to give. Finally, with a growl from behind clenched teeth, the man came, filling her mouth and throat with hot seed. She lapped it up hungrily, swallowing the salty tendrils of cum like the happy little slut she was. When he pulled out, her face broke out in a grin as she looked up at him.

“Thank you, Sir.” He only nodded in reply and collapsed on the couch, breathless and confused, but thoroughly satisfied.

CHAPTER FOUR

After her very confused but eternally grateful visitor left, Emily curled up on the couch in a happy little pile. They never did get around to discussing the intricacies of whatever case James wanted to talk about, but Emily was pretty sure she couldn’t understand numbers or math at that point anyway. In fact, most things more complicated than sex and make-up seemed to elude her at that point and it wasn’t a feeling she entirely despised.

The girl drifted off to a somber, dreamless sleep in the wet spot created by the combined efforts of the two accountants. She was happily cradling her breasts with her hands as she fell asleep, the two orbs her favorite part of her impromptu bimbo transformation. When she finally woke up again, the clock was tirelessly ticking closer to the morning. Emily yawned heartily, only to find that she had a splitting headache. She let her hands run across her body, expecting to find the same delicious curves, but she was disappointed with only her own bland, shapeless curves. It was enough to wake her right up.

Her head throbbed with pain, but that was a small issue in comparison to the heartbreaking loss of her new body and mind. Emily paused for a moment, trying to set her thoughts in a line. Her head buzzed with ideas and questions, all loud and demanding her undivided attention and keeping her from focusing on any one of them.

A pout perched on her lips. She was overcome with a sense of loss. Emily had been given back her body and her brains, but it felt so much worse than just existing to fuck and giggle. She wanted that feeling of not having to worry about anything but physical pleasures back again.

It only took her a few minutes to jump off the couch, rush into the bedroom and get dressed. She ignored the headache as she plucked up her purse and pulled on a hoodie to combat the cold nighttime air. Emily was determined to find the odd little witch again and ask her nicely to turn her back into who she had gotten to be the day before. She wanted to be a bimbo again, this time for good. The odd little lady could find another accountant, but there would only be one chance for Emily to become a blonde skank again and there was nothing that could keep her from it.