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Things were buzzing.
On stage in front of the press conference he’d personally called Tony Stark, aka Iron Man and CEO super-genius of STARK Enterprises had just announced to the world his new partnership with BIMBOTECH INDUSTRIES, the fastest growing ‘life-styles’ business in
the world. With great pomp and circumstance he declared his intent to move the business environment into the future with a new line of “Sex-certeries”.
Then, owner and founder of BIMBOTECH Mr. Fink, joined Stark on stage followed by a very special guest.
All eye’s went to the guest and a wave of cheers and question’s rose from the crowd.
Fink smiled and up held his hand for quiet. He pointed at his guest and spoke:
“Here you see someone once dull—so plain and boring that she barely ever got fucked.
But thanks to BIMBOTECH, with the generous assist of Mr. Stark—NO MORE!
They are reborn. The first Sex-Certery!”
There was applause, Fink waited for it to pass, then looked straight at the first BIMBOTECH/STARK Industries brand Sex-Certery and asked:
“Who are you?”
“I’M HONEY POTT!”
Honey Pott squealed her answer in a voice that was high pitched and breathy.
She placed one hand on her hip and blew a kiss with the other to the crowd of reporters.
Then she struck a pose, giving everyone in the auditorium an eyeful of her perfect Bimbotech body:
A tone hour-glass shaped form perched on two long shapely legs. Boob’s like two basketballs jutting from her chest with proud gravity deviance and a plump apple shaped ass.
Honey’s deep cherry red hair was tied with pink ribbons into two bouncy pigtails.
Her ecstatic face was heavily made up, the dominate feature being crimson lipstick thickly coating her fat pillow soft lips.
She was dressed---but barely. Honey Pott was perched in a pair of shiny metallic blue arch blue fuck-me pumps.
She wore lacy white stockings that ended at the top of her thigh.
Just barely reaching the lower curve of her backside was a pink micro-mini pleated skirt.
Every little move she made caused the skirt to flair out and reveal nothing underneath.
Honey Pott had no top, just two stickers of the Bimbotech logo—the silhouette of a large breasted woman on her knees, placed evenly over her nipples.
The crowd erupted in volcanic exctiment, reporters began screaming the same question at Honey Pott: “Who are you?
Over and over. And each time Honey Pott would answer back with certainty--
"I’M HONEY POTT!”
"I’M HONEY POTT!”
"I’M HONEY POTT!”
Well that’s that. Manute thought as he pressed a button on the control console turning the chair off.
His other hand was lain on top of Candyass’ head as it lovingly bobbed up and down his cock.
The woman known as Pepper Pott’s no longer existed, the constant chanting from the chair was proof of that.
She had been remade and reborn by BIMBOTECH as Honey Pott. “Mostly reborn” Manute mused to himself.
For while the mind was proper, the body wasn’t.
Easy to fix.
As if on cue a large door to the chair room slid open, and Manute watched as three oderlies in pristine white uniforms filed in pushing a hospital bed.
With efficiency that comes only from practice the trio unhooked Honey Pott from the chair.
She offered no resistance, her mind now in a euphoric dream state where she reveled in her new being.
The three men easily placed her on the bed and were quickly off with Honey to Body Modification.
When she wakes, she’ll be the perfect Bimbotech girl. Manute chuckled.
Like a porno-XXX-Bimbo Cinederella.
Manute felt a pleasurable rush in his balls. With a grunt, he shot his sticky hot load down the throat of Candyass.
The Bimbo shuddered in euphoric pleasure. Manute laughed.
Another day, another bimbo.
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