As promised, here is the first chapter of my Bimbo or Billionaire story. There will be a chapter per day for the next few days. Feedback is welcomed!


My bedroom door slams shut with a loud BANG! Another day, another fight with mom and dad. The fights were always about the same thing: I am 25 and I have no job, no college diploma, and no fucking idea of what I wanna do with my life. Gaaaaahh, how they piss me off. Look, I know I have a problem;  I went to two colleges, switched major three times, and I still have nothing to show for it. I know I need to “get my ass into gear,” as Dad says, but can’t they at least give me one more summer to figure it out?

Nooooo. “You’ve got your three strikes, young lady, now you need to get a job.” Fuck you Dad. Life is not fucking baseball. And what respectable business is gonna hire a 25-year-old with only high school diploma? Cause I’m sure as hell not flinging fries at fucking McDonald.

I guess I could get a job as a barmaid. I’m not too bad looking. A bit on the short side at 5’2’’, but well-proportioned. I may be “a slacker,” as Mom puts it, but I keep in shape. My boobs are tiny, but not non-existent either, just a small B cup. My only real problem is my hair: it’s a tangled, neck-length brown mess. I’ve tried everything, but it just doesn’t want to behave. I guess it fits me in that way. And some guys like it wild anyway. So yeah, I guess I could be a barmaid – free alcohol! – but I can’t stand the thought of having to be groped by some fat, smelly drunkard. No way. Not to mention sexual harassment by the boss.

Whatever. They’re not going to kick me out, I know that. My dad barks a lot, but he has no bite. Though, it would be nice if I could find a job and leave this fucking place. The problem is, nothing interests me. Everything I try turns out to be so boring, full of tedious technique and homework and shit. Even dance, the last thing I tried, turned to be mechanical bullcrap – no feelings whatsoever. But that school cost a pretty penny, so good luck getting any money to try college again.

Oh, fuck it. There’s nothing I can do about it tonight anyway, so why am I troubling myself with that shit. Let’s see what’s on TV instead – I’m sure I can find some brain dead crap to numb me to sleep. Let’s see…some crappy sitcom about nerds? Boring! News? Even more boring. The biography of the Pope…are you kidding me? What else do they have: no…no…no…no…wait a minute, I know that intro jingle. Oh god, it’s that Bimbo or Billionaire show. I’ve watched that once before, it was hilarious. This stuck up bitch came in, she was an office manager or some shit, and she left as a blonde bimbo with tits bigger than her head and an obsession with sucking dick. It was hilarious. I remember, at the beginning of the show she said she was playing to “improve her job prospects.” What an idiot.

Wait a minute. That’s it! That’s the solution! I could become a contestant on Bimbo or Billionaire. At best, I become super rich and I can leave this place and live the rest of my life as I fucking want. At worst, well, I’ll be hot as hell and too dumb to be anything but happy about it. Sure, I’ll likely be a slut afterwards, but who cares? Sex is fun. So why the fuck not? Sure, Mom and Dad will be pissed, but hey, they won’t be able to say I’m a “slacker” anymore. I know the show has an application form on its website. All I need is to remember where I hid my laptop.

A great addition to the Bimbo or Billionaire universe!