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Dinner Party
Dinner Party
by Capricorn
"This is your last chance to choose me, or your "new" Ariel," she said,
holding Paul tightly. They were just outside the doctor's office. "Pick
and all the consequences that come with your decision. Pick now, before I
walk through that door."
Paul swallowed. Who wouldn't be nervous, doing this to someone they
cared about. But could he not do it?
"I want you to be the new Ariel." he said.
For a moment he thought she was going to change her mind. But then she
reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him.
"Goodbye. It was nice knowing you." she said.
"Goodbye Ariel," he said. "Now let's go. Time to turn you into my
plastic tit dream."
He escorted her into the doctor's lobby and a nurse came to get her. He
sat down with the doctor to talk about what he wanted for Ariel.
"Doctor let me fill you in." he started.
"Tell him I wanna be a walking, giggling tit-fuck machine!!" Ariel
interrupted just before the nurse whisked her away into the surgery ward.
* * * *
"God! We need to throw ALL this fuckin' shit out." Ariel said.
She was looking at over her FFF at a closet full of
professional clothes.
"What sort of loser wears this lame clothes like this?"
"That was your stuff, Ariel. Do you like any of it?"
"No, I need to buy all new clothes. And I need to get over to the
salon. Give me the credit card."
"Some of that stuff still fits you, Ariel. The pants.. it's a bit
excessive to just buy new everything." Paul said.
"Fuck you hun! you *wanted* this package, then you are paying for the
upkeep. Don't like it, tough shit!" She giggled.
"You're a real bitch now, you know that?" he shook his head. "What have
I done?"
"Don't like....get pissy with me. You made me like this and I am
totally always gonna be like this. That boring bitch is like gone now so
get fuckin used to it.."
"It'll take a while. You didn't use to be such a dumb bimbo."
"I didn't use to be no smoker either."
She reached into her purse and took out a fresh pack of cigarettes. She
lit up with a flourish.
"I fuckin hate this habit...but, like, I don't even think, I just grab
one..." she giggled again.
* * * *
Ariel was watching in the living room. She'd chosen some teenybopper
video on MTV. Her long hair cascaded over the sofa, her long
painted nails tapped the beat on the coffee table.
"Remember when I used to actually, like, fuckin read?"
"Yeah. Nowadays all you do is watch porn and those stupid MTV shows
about Christina. Stupid shows for a stupid bimbo I guess." Paul replied.
"What you fuckin say about MTV. Its much cooler than all that shit you
fuckin watch."
"Do you think about *anything* other than boobs, fucking, and shopping?"
Ariel rolled her eyes. "Um...no."
"You really are a total bimbo. you're worthless as anything except a
fucktoy."
"I am what you made me be." chirped Ariel.
"And a fucktoy is what i wanted you to be." responded Paul.
"Sshhhhh! I'm watching the show." She stopped to light another
cigarette. "I fuckin hate these things."
"Yeah, that's why you smoke so many of them," he replied.
"No, you fuckin make me want them without even thinking. You just like
the look of them between these nails you make me get."
"Damn right I do. Makes my cock hard just thinking about it."
The mention of cock was enough to pull her attention away from the TV.
She licked her lips unconsciously.
"It makes so fuckin' hot and wet to be like this," she said, as she ran
a long nailed finger across her clit.
"Like what?" he asked. He loved to hear her talk about what'd become. I
loved that she loved it.
"Just a mouth and a and two tits."
"I think I want to use one of those." he stated as he walked over to her
and dropped his pants.
She smiled and leaned her head forward greedily, as her collagenthick
lips began stroking my hard cock.
* * * * *
Paul hung up the phone.
"Well, we closed the deal, which means that our receivables should
triple by year's end. That in turn means higher gross over this quarter
last year."
Ariel looked at him with a look of utter boredom. She flicked her cig
and looked admiringly at her nails.
"So? And I should care because...."
"Because this means we make me a lot of money."
Her eyes lit up.
"Fuck yeah! That's what I like to hear." She sprang to her high-heeled
feet and grabbed her purse.
"Where are you going?"
"Shopping!" she said. "I wanna buy new clothes and new shoes." She
grabbed his hand. "And you're goin' come with me!"
"Me? Why?"
"To carry the bags!" she said, giggling.
A short while later, Ariel was decked out in a tight pink dress that
clung to every curve, the nipples on her giant highlighted proudly.
"What do you think? I am the fuckin hottest thing you've ever seen in
this dress?"
Paul nodded.
"Absolutely."
She giggled with glee and added the pink dress to an ever-growing pile
of shopping bags that he somehow had been assigned to carry. Her platinum
card - the one he paid the bill on - must have been carrying a balance in
the 5 figures. Meanwhile throughout the shopping trip she'd carried on a
running dialogue of trash talk about the other shopping around her.
"Did you see how small her were? I didn't even realize they let
ugly like that in here. No dress can do HER any good."
The process that had stripped away Ariel's personality had stripped
away her politeness, as well. Which was fine with Paul because she was a
hot bitch and he loved it.
"Now I wanna go get my hair and nails done at the salon on 5th Avenue."
* * * *
"So this you are bringing to dinner," James asked. "Is this the
one you met over the Internet? Brunette, real smart, but kind of
depressed?"
"Yes, that's the one. Ariel," Paul said - he had one hand on the
steering wheel of his BMW, the other hand was holding his Ericsson up to
his ear. "But she's had some major changes in her life lately. She's a
lot happier now. See you in 5." He hung up and looked down, smiling.
Ariel's face was in his crotch, her pierced tongue licking his engorged
cock. Her newly-dyed platinum hair was spread all over his lap.
Putting the phone away, he caressed her locks. She tilted her head up and
glanced at him. She had a beautiful face, heavily made up.
"Do I have to go to this fucking dinner?" she asked. "Its going to be
nothing but....like....geeks and flat-chested losers. That's all you work
with."
"Yes - we have to go, Ariel," Paul replied. "I want everybody to meet
you. Now finish up down there, we're almost to the restaurant."
James V. Loezk, Vice-President of Marketing for Clarion Software, was
already sitting down with a glass of wine when his boss, CEO Paul Manning,
arrived at the restaurant. Seeing Ariel at his side, he almost spilled his
drink. Spillage was the best term for what was going on with Ariel's
chest, where an amazingly fake-looking set of F cup were just barely
covered by a white lycra halter top. Beneath the halter, a gold ring
gleamed in Ariel's navel, the perfect ornament for a perfectly thin, smooth
waist. From there, she seemed to seamlessly flow into a pair of black
vinyl pants that showed off the smooth curves of her beautiful ass, the
lines of her thigh and calf. The boot-cut pants ended in a pair of white
platform sandals with 6" heels and an open toe that showed off a bright
pink pedicure. Her wrists were decorated with bracelets, her ears held
shining plastic hoops. And she was smiling broadly, her full, painted lips
- cocksucking lips, James' dick announced - wet and inviting. Ariel knew
that every guy in the restaurant wanted her, and she thrived on it.
Hanging on Paul's arm, proudly jutting, she followed her boyfriend's
lead as they walked to the table.
"James, this is Ariel. Ariel, this is James. He's my vice-president of
marketing at Clarion," Paul said.
James rose and extended a shaking hand in greeting. She accepted it
with a dangling wrist that revealed " long pink fingernails. When they
touched, he noticed the pinky fingernail had been pierced.
"Must be hard to type with nails that long," James managed to utter.
"Do I look like, I like, type and stuff," Ariel said, her face pulling
back into a pout. "I don't think so."
Paul motioned for them to take their seats. He positioned Ariel between
himself and James. James was still struggling to speak in coherent
sentences.
"Oh, well, no. So, uh, what do you do?"
"I'm a les...a leaze..." she seemed to stall on the words.
"She's a leisuress," Paul explained.
James seemed like he didn't know what to make of that, so Ariel
explained.
"I, like, shop, and get my nails done, and watch movies, and work out,
and, you know, fuck. And stuff." She smiled broadly.
James' cock couldn't help but notice that her tongue was pierced. He
tried to make eye contact, that was what you where supposed to look at in
polite conversation, but when he tried all he saw was high arched eyebrows,
long fake eyelashes, eyeliner. When he finally found her gaze, her
eyes revealed just dumb lust.
James realized he had to change the conversation before his lust for his
boss's girlfriend overcame all rational capacity. He coughed.
"Well, anyway, Paul, I just got a call and Molly and Jennifer are coming
over shortly as well. I thought we'd discuss the marketing survey analyses
and then we could...."
His speech was interrupted by the sound of gum smacking on wet lips. A
moment later a pink bubble exploded in Ariel's face. She giggled. James
was about to say something to her when he saw that Ariel's long-nailed hand
was in her boss's lap, doing something not quite by the tablecloth.
Paul looked over at James and raised his eyebrows, as if to say: "is there
a problem?"
James looked down at the menu and said nothing. He needed a drink.
Ariel's left hand was stroking Paul's cock under the table, which was
fun, but she was basically very bored. James was an ugly fat and she
didn't care if he liked her because he wasn't getting any and he used a lot
of big words that didn't mean anything, and whenever she tried to talk
about fucking or shopping he seemed to get upset. And now he was getting
royally drunk because he was a pathetic who couldn't handle a real
woman. If only this dinner was over so that she and Paul could go home and
she could roll her ankles over her head and Paul could fuck her hard with
his cock while she rubbed the nipples on her big plastic titties. Was that
really a lot to ask? Maybe when the other arrived the dinner would
be better. Molly and Jenni were slutty sounding names, maybe they were the
office bimbos and after the dinner Paul would take all three of them home
and they could go down on each other and then suck him off.
Her daydreams were just beginning to make her juices flow when the
real Molly Lane and Jennifer Barlow showed up at the dinner. Molly was a
short, pale-skinned flat-chested with straw cut in a boyish
style; she wore no make-up and was dressed in a conservative black
pantsuit. Jennifer had a pretty face with just a touch of make-up, but she
hid an out-of-shape body in a shapeless sundress.
"Did the boss hire an escort for the evening?" Ariel heard Jennifer
whisper as the two approached.
"Jennifer, Molly, this is my girlfriend Ariel," said Paul, rising from
his chair to greet the two. "Ariel, Jennifer Barlow is our public
relations director, and Molly Lane is our director of content."
"Pleased to meet you," said Molly, who didn't seem to be at all. "And
what do you do?"
"She's a leisuresh," slurred the drunken James.
Paul quickly cut in, laughing. "Ariel used to work for an HMO but she's
taking some time off right now and just enjoying herself. Right honey?"
"Yeah! And you look like you could use, like, some fuckin' time off
to." Ariel said. "I mean....when did you last take the time to get your
hair done? The look is soooo out."
"For your information, I have the "lesbo look" because I am a lesbian."
said Molly, her face turning red.
Chery Ann rolled her eyes. This was *so* dumb.
"I like to lick a hot too but that doesn't mean you have to look
like a boy!"
The restaurant was suddenly very quiet. Jennifer's eyes were as big as
tea saucers.
The waiter's arrival broke the tension, and they ordered food. Ariel
couldn't read the menu because it was all in, like, some other language,
but Paul knew what she liked so she just let him order for her.
Unfortunately, the conversation drifted to boring things again. Who cared
about all these numbers and figures and reports? Why wheren't these
worrying about important things, like the fact that they looked like shit
and not a single there would want to touch them?
Eventually she concluded it was pointless to be at the dinner table.
The hoped-for threesome was NOT going to happen, not with these two anyway.
How could she end it? There was only one way. She leaned over to Paul and
touched his earlobe with her plump lips.
"I don't wanna eat here, Paul," she whispered, her tongue caressing his
ear. "I wanna go home and suck your cock and all your yummy cum.
Mmmm, that's what I wanna eat. I wanna be your nasty slut tonight."
As she said this, her long nailed fingers caressed his dick, feeling it
grow hard. Paul blinked three times rapidly and then smiled. And then he
said:
"James, ladies, Ariel is feeling ill, so I'm going to have to take her
home and put her to bed. We'll carry on this discussion at the weekly
conference."
With that, he stood up, and took Ariel by the hand.
"Time to go, honey, I know you want to get into bed right away."
As the high-heeled bimbo tottered away, clutching at her man, James
swore he heard her say "But I'm not sick, Paul! I wanna fuck not sleep!"
Could the really be that dumb? he wondered. In the end, he
decided that he hoped she was.
THE END