Bimbo Casino: The Complete Series (The Shining Spiral Saga) (3 page)

The first girl sounded a bit concerned. “I hope that he finds me attractive. That's mostly all I care about.”

“Being attractive
is
the most important thing for a wife to do, outside of obeying.”

Rosie's fun-tasting super-good drink was empty, strangely. How had that happened? She didn't care. Her head floated happily. All she had to worry about was looking attractive.

“I have to obey
all
the time.”

“An obedient wife is an attractive wife.”

“My man is so strong. I have to be hot for him. Otherwise he'll never get me pregnant.”

“You'll be so hot for your strong man. You're a hot babe. You know how to dress like a hot babe for your man and he'll make you more pregnant than you can believe.”

Obedient, attractive, duty, hot, pregnant, strong, man.

These words bounced off Rosie’s mind like jello-filled super balls, floating everywhere at once.

Dumbly, Rosie looked down at her drink. It was full again. When had that happened? Did Philip come by? Had he said if she looked hot or not?

The drink was so good that she immediately started drinking more, the cool breeze of the day fluttering against her body.

Looking down at her chest, she saw that her breasts were rippling somehow—growing, in fact. Right before her eyes, her bust was increasing with happy, jiggly bounces. They felt full of...milk?

That was...that was really cool. That would let her be a better wife for her man. That was so wonderful. Every thought she had landed serenely in her head. There was no panic, no urgency. Everything was wonderful. The casino was wonderful.

She swallowed the rest of her drink, watching her breasts grow even more as she did, her waist becoming narrower, her pale skin becoming more tan in the shade. Wasn't
that
something?

She sat up to set her empty drink down—but then Philip was there, grabbing it and replacing it with one smooth motion. That was so good of him. So strong.

She needed to learn how to be a good hot wife for a strong male. Philip could be practice. He was so big and tall and strong.

The women behind her continued to speak in their hot, droning tones. Overhead, the spiral turned and turned, so wonderful. She couldn’t place what exactly it was about the speech of the two girls that was so very interesting. But oh good lord, it really was!

Rosie noticed, squirming her legs in happy little pulses, that her pussy was soaking wet. Her tits continued to grow slowly, and she noticed that her dark hair had started to become longer and longer. Glossier. Shinier.

“I need to learn how to suck cock all day long for my man.”

“Sucking cock is
so
important.”

Rosie felt empty inside. When was the last time she had even
sucked
a cock?

“I need to learn how to suck my man off so that he knows I’ll do it any time he wants.”

Mmph. Unable to stop herself, Rosie's fingers had slipped under the thin fabric of her bikini.

“You should suck your man off whenever he wants. It’s your duty.”

Oh god yes, suck him off. It's her duty.

“I do love having all these duties as a wife.”

So many duties. They were all so, so good. Rosie’s fingers were buried deep in her cunt, not caring who saw. Overhead, the spiral twisted and turned, filling her mind. Her engorged tits were incredibly sensitive—empty of a drink, her hand had wandered to her strawberry-sized nipples.

“Have to be a good wife,” she moaned. “Have to do my duties. Have to be a
good
wife.”

Their voices were close now. If she turned even just slightly, she would see their lips churning out hot, happy, hypnotized words into her ear, to make her just as hypnotized as they were.

“It’s so fucking
fun
to be a hypno slave for my hubby.”

“It’s so fun,” Rosie droned in response, fingering blankly.

“I love this casino. I’ll do anything for it.”

“Anything for the casino!” Rosie moaned.

As she came, someone pushed a glass of Spiral Twist to her lips, letting the delicious liqueur slide down her throat. Hot, tempered bliss danced through every muscle as she gurgled down the yummy substance. Her hands went limp, sliding away from her big tits and her tight young wife pussy, but it was perfectly all right. The nice girls behind her replaced her hand with theirs almost immediately.

And then, they continued to talk.

* * * * *

T
he casino floors were, in a word, overwhelming.

Jonathan walked from game to game, searching for Delilah, a thousand dollars in house money chips in his hands. Every game was fully-staffed, and it was hard to spot another guest in the sea of bright lights and flashing machines. The dozens of card-games each had a smiling, beautiful dealer with a low-cut top threatening to spill over with incredible, jiggly titflesh at a moment's notice.

For every game, there were at least three beautiful babe employees there, happily waiting. All eyes on Jonathan—the only guest in the casino as far as he could tell.

It seemed like, if he actually took the time to focus, there were themes for the games. Or rather, for the girls attending the games. All the poker games had variations of school-girls: cheerleaders, pig-tailed dolls with knee socks, volley-ball players, hot preppy girls with tiny sweaters and tennis skirts.

All the roulette tables had sexy business-type women, dressed in tight, sexy pinstripe suits with micro-length skirts and teensy tiny blouses. The craps tables had peasant girls wearing tight corsets or open blouses, sexy flowery skirts that sometimes were too short or sometimes had hot stockings attached to them. So on and so on, theme after theme filled with beautifully busty smiling babes.

And all the while, this odd techno beat kept thrumming out the walls. And not just the walls, but the slot machines, from panels in the floor, from small speakers attached to each gorgeously-endowed server...from all angles, at all times, he was bombarded with rhythmic sound.

At first, it was overwhelming. It took away his ability to concentrate. Every time he considered stepping out, or maybe going back to his room and waiting for Rosie, the sound broke the thought apart.

It wasn’t so bad, he decided after a while. In fact, it was...sort of nice. And if he didn’t like it, he could just play.

Ignore the rest of life. Have a turn at the tables. That’s why he was here, wasn’t it?

The music thrummed along with his new thoughts, guiding them, focusing them. He tugged at his loose shirt collar, feeling a bit warm. His cock grew to a comfortable half-mast as Jonathan enjoyed all the clear stares at his package.

Head-a-swivel, he finally spotted the beautiful Delilah at the three-card poker table where she had promised she would be. His heart thumped as her face lit up, calling him over and patting the empty seat right next to her.

God, she was gorgeous. Her hair arranged in an effortless long pile, practically cooing against her back. He wanted to rub his face in that thick mess of hair and breathe her scent in deep before plunging himself in her cunt.

Or...o-or something.

Maybe. He loved Rosie, though.

Of course he did.

He loved his wife.

Delilah smiled at him even more dazzingly than before as his steps faltered a bit. He forgot about his wife long enough for Delilah to slide a drink in his hands and guide him to her table.

“Here,” she said. “On the house.”

The drink was black and white, arranged in stripes, like some kind of Neapolitan liqueur. The taste was sugary and sweet.

“What is this?”

“Oh that? It's the special.” She giggled. “It's very special. I made it myself.”

The second he sat down, he heard a chorus of disappointed moans from the nearby games—and saw all the girls and dealers at them pouting that he hadn’t chosen them. They all took big, elaborate sighs, their breasts swelling, and stared at him with open longing in their beautifully big eyes. He was so important to them—to all of them.

Important, yeah, that was the word. He felt important. Critical. Everyone's attention was on him.

Delilah wrapped her arm around his possessively, haughtily winking at the other girls, and introduced him to the others at the table.

Besides Delilah, there was another gorgeously stacked brunette who could have been her sister—the name tag read Karen—and the dealer, a sumptuously tall redhead with a killer smile, named Tasha. Karen sat on Jonathan's left, and Delilah his right.

Tasha shuffled the cards clumsily and only dealt to Jonathan.

“Oh,” he said. “You ladies aren’t playing?”

Karen and Delilah giggled. Jonathan turned from one heavy pair of jiggling breasts to the other, feeling rather in love.

“Don’t be silly,” Delilah said happily. “Games are for men. A girl’s head just isn’t
built
for this like yours is.”

He took a drink, smiling. The warm liqueur warmed every part of his body. That was certainly right. Games were for men. Girls just weren't as good at that sort of thing as men were. It’d be nice if Rosie recognized that more often.

No...no, that was wrong. Rosie was a whiz at numbers.

He took another drink, Karen cooing soft nothing into his ear that he couldn't quite make out.

Well, maybe Rosie wasn't quite as good at numbers as
he
was...but it was his job, after all.

His drink had emptied, but it was no problem. He watched as Karen filled it with some kind of chocolate liqueur and then Delilah took it and...and...

She pulled her top down and filled it with the milk from her enormous tits. Fuck.

Karen handed him back the drink. Completely full now.

“There you are, love,” said Delilah. “Don't you want it?”

“It's...uh...ah...your milk. In there. In this.”

It smelled heavenly. How was he not gulping it down?

Stroke, stroke, stroke. “Don't you deserve that? It was so good, wasn't it?”

Taking a long sip, he decided it was good. Nothing to worry about. Too good to not have several more.

He knew the game already. Three-card poker was easy. The highest hand was a straight flush. The ante was twenty, and the bonus bet was another twenty. He put down the ante and the bonus, and then placed his initial bet of twenty again when he was dealt his cards.

“You can make a bigger bet than that, can’t you?” asked Delilah.

Jonathan had expected this. Certainly, a beautiful babe like Delilah, employed by the casino, was there to make him spend more money. He shrugged. “I mean...twenty seems plenty, doesn’t it?”

Delilah looked down, clearly disappointed. “Oh, I
guess
so. I just thought, a strong man like you...surely you can afford a nice big bet, can’t you?”

Taking a long sip of his drink, he stared intently down Delilah’s soft, palpably close cleavage. Her fingers slid up and down his thigh, sweeping some imaginary piece of dust away. It felt like someone was whispering softly in his ear...but when he turned to look, there was only Karen, smiling softly with her big brown eyes dancing merrily. She was silent, smiling, sliding her fingers around the heavy cylinder of his chips. Her grip looked like she could be holding anything cylindrical...his cock, for instance.

“Couldn't you make a
bigger
bet?” Delilah cooed again, with Karen cooing at the same time. “A real man like you can make
such
a big bet...”

To his left, Karen kept nodding happily, intently, sliding her fingers up and down the stack of his chips.

Staring deep into Delilah’s eyes, he slipped his hands over Karen’s, pushing forward whatever chips were there. It was over three hundred dollars, a tenth of his what the casino had given him.

The scantily-clad dealer happily dealt her own cards. Three of a kind. Jonathan had junk—a five, an eight, and a two. Nothing. Three hundred dollars down the drain.

The dealer clapped her hands happily, her tits bouncing hypnotically. “Thanks
so
much for playing with me. Another hand?”

Jonathan took a long drink to think about it. After his gulp, the drink was empty...and then it was gone, replaced by another by Karen’s quick hands. Everything felt so warm, so floating. He was surrounded by gorgeous women all smiling at him, wanting him, having fun.

He was in heaven.

Delilah’s hot, soft mouth slid up and down Jonathan’s neck, his ear. “Go on. You can win.
You’re
a
winner
. Show me, baby.”

Less than thirty minutes later, all the credit extended to him and Rosie was gone. All three thousand dollars, just vanished. If he were able to comprehend much of anything outside of Delilah's hands on his body, her breasts pushing up against his arm, he might not have believed it.

Drunk now, a bit stumbly, he allowed Delilah to guide him to the ATM in a corner with her hand in his pocket. Her fingertips slid against the stiff shaft of his cock through the inner fabric of his pants.

His clothes were fitting rather tightly. Somehow he felt
bigger
than before. Delilah had always been shorter than him...but she seemed rather more so now. Looking down, he noticed that his top few buttons had burst off—and beneath, his chest had become enormously muscled. His pant legs no longer stretched down to his ankles, ending instead somewhere around his mid-calf.

Testing his strength, he picked his arm up—Delilah holding on and squealing in delight at the ease with which he lifted her up. When he set her down, she hugged him tight.

“God, you're
so
strong,” she moaned. “I bet you could
crush
me
any
time you wanted. I bet you could just
ruin
me.”

Considering that fact very heavily, he languidly let her take the bank card out of his pocket, and told her his PIN number. Why not? He could trust her. She worked for the casino.

He loved the casino with all his heart.

Somehow his bank allowed him to withdraw over five thousand dollars at a time. Had it been in one of those forms he signed when he accepted the prize trip down here?