Stripclub Bimbos
By N. Trance

Beth my closest friend was a young talented freelance journalist. She wrote
feature articles; undercover exposés a lot of the time. For her last assignment
she was going to check out one of the rundown stripclubs in Soho which she'd
heard was somehow affiliated to a giant multinational corporation shrouded in
secrecy. The two things didn't add up. Why would a multimillion-pound company
want to waste money on a grotty neon lit clip-joint? Beth was going to pose as a
novice dancer in order to try and uncover the connection. "This could be the big
one," she told me the night before going in.
That was two weeks ago. I haven't heard from her since. She was supposed to file
her feature three days ago, and was meant to contact me if she felt she was in
any sort of trouble. But there has been no word from her. Nothing. There was no
point phoning any of the daily newspapers as Beth was freelance and only dealt
with them once her stories had been completed. This was not something she had
discussed and set-up with anyone. As far as I knew the only person who knew
about any of this was me.
And then last week I heard something very unnerving from Richard, a mutual
friend. He had seen a woman who, he said, "Could've been Beth's double." She was
standing outside one of the stripclubs in Soho wearing fishnets, a mini-skirt
and a little bra-top enticing people inside. He didn't think it was Beth of
course, he just thought this woman looked amazingly like her. He thought it was
a joke and wanted to tell Beth, but said she wasn't replying to any of the
messages he'd left on her machine.
At first I thought, Okay, she's found out something and wants to immerse
herself. Y'know, find out as much as she can about whatever it is she's
discovered. And maybe she couldn't let on she knew Richard in case he gave her
identity away. But the more I thought about it the more it troubled me. If that
was the case and she had discovered some dark secret why would she try and
encourage Richard, an old friend, inside? Surely she would have wanted him as
far away from the place as possible.
I lay awake all night thinking about Beth and by morning I had convinced myself
that something had happened to her in there. I decided that they must have found
out that she was a journalist, and I assumed that they must be blackmailing her
or threatening her with violence in order to keep her there working for them
where they could keep an eye on her.
I would have phoned the police but they have a reputation for treating all women
working in those places as pieces of meat who are just asking for it. So after a
lot of fretting and thinking I decided to go myself. I didn't want to, but I
couldn't think of anything else. So I put on a long fur-rimmed coat and
exaggerated make-up and called a taxi. I wasn't a journalist and I was pretty
sure they wouldn't find anything on me to blackmail with. I would find out what
they were threatening Beth with and then take the whole story to the paper or
the police.
I just wanted to get my friend out and away from all that sleaze.
When I got there it wasn't Beth on the door. It was some vacant looking bimbo
sitting cross-legged on a stool so that her mini-skirt left nothing to the
imagination.
I said I was looking for work. Her expression remained as blank as before as she
put her frosty pink lips around an ivory tipped fag. She she showed me through
and told me to ask for Gloria.
I walked carefully down the dark stairwell and down shaky stairs to the bar and
asked the barmaid for Gloria. The girl who had the same vacant smile as the one
on the door didn't even acknowledge me, she just ducked behind the curtain and
returned a few moments later­pouting and adjusting her hair in the mirror­and
told me that Gloria would be out shortly and that I could have any drink I
liked, on the house.
I wouldn't have normally but I was so nervous. I had never done anything like
this before, and one short won't hurt, I thought. Something to steady my nerves.
I really couldn't believe how jittery I was feeling. This place was so gloomy
and tacky and all the girls looked so bored. Bored or stoned anyway.
I asked for a vodka and bitter lemon.
I looked around, hoping to catch sight of Beth, but she wasn't anywhere to be
seen. In fact it was all pretty quiet with one lone punter sitting at a table in
the corner and staring fixedly at a pendant that dangled from a chain around the
girl's waist, swaying rhythmically in front of her trimmed vagina. Even he
looked bored.
Gloria came out after about five minutes and said, "I hear you're looking for
work."
"That's right."
"Well I'll need to get a look at you. Can't see much with that coat on."
"Oh yes, sorry," I said a little taken aback by her brusque manner. I took off
my coat.
Gloria eyed me. "Possibly. I think we'll need to put you in something less
conservative before I can get a better idea. Finish your drink and I'll take you
to the dressing rooms. I'm sure we'll be able to find something."
"Right." I hadn't really thought this through properly.
Gloria must have been in her forties. She was a hard, thin woman and I imagined
she was a retired stripper herself. She had that tarty look to her. The way this
rotten business leaves a permanent stain around you.
"What are your vitals?"
"Sorry?" I said finishing my vodka.
"Tits, waist and hips," she said sharply.
I didn't appreciate being talked down to like I was just another one of these
dopey bimbos. I would have given her a piece of my mind, but I had to remind
myself that I was here to find Beth and I couldn't do anything to blow my
cover... and hers if they weren't actually on to her after all. "36B-28-36," I
said.
"Good enough."
She turned and left the bar and I hurried along after her.
As we climbed another set of rickety stairs I felt myself sway slightly and I
had to hold on to the rail for support. I'm not used to wearing high-heels.
"Here we are," she said, opening the door to the cold, dank, airless dressing
room.
My jaw dropped. There was Beth giving the finishing touches to her bright red
lips, pouting into the mirror and teasing her big fluffy hair.
"This is Madeleine," Gloria said.
"Hello Madeleine," I said, trying not to let on.
"Please to meet you I'm sure," Beth said in a slightly girly voice. "Call me
Maddie. I won't shake your hand because my nails are still drying."
"I'm Gemma," I said. But Beth wasn't letting on she knew me. Not in front of
Gloria. In fact it was the first time I'd seen Beth operating and I had to admit
she was a brilliant actress.
"Maddie I want you to fix Gemma here up with some clothes. The usual, cheap,
tarty look. And Maddie I want you out working the door this afternoon so wear
something to draw attention to those nice big tits of yours. Okay?"
"Yes Miss Stone," Beth said in a simpering voice. I was impressed.
Then, again, I felt myself sway, but this time I was standing still and I had to
put my hand on the back of one of the chairs to support myself. Must be my
nerves. Although that vodka had certainly dulled the anxiety that I had been
feeling when I got here.
"I'll see you both downstairs," Gloria said, and closed the door.
I waited to hear her retreating steps before I said anything to Beth. "That's
some act you've got there, Beth," I whispered. "What are you still doing here?
I've been worried."
"Beth? Whose Beth?" she asked smiling vacantly.
"What? Come on, Beth, it's me, Gemma. I'm not going to let on."
"I'm sorry I don't know what you're talking about. Now let's see what we can
find for you to wear shall we, honey." Beth got up, tottering on her six inch
heels and walked over to a rack of cheap garments hanging from a rail in the
corner of the room.
"Beth, you can drop the act now.... Oh I see," I said, hushed, "is this place
bugged?" I asked, looking round.
"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Beth said at a normal volume. "Bugged?"
And that's when I noticed it. When she stood up and caught the light full on her
face. Her eyes. She wasn't play acting. Her eyes were as vacant as all the other
girls here.
I felt my legs almost give way beneath me. It was Beth, but it wasn't. Those
eyes. It wasn't the same Beth looking out at you anymore. There was none of the
keen inquisitive intelligence that used to animate her face. She was placid and
vacant, smiling blandly at me as she went along the rack of cheap underwear,
looking for something tartish for me. They had done something to her. Drugged
her.
I felt physically sick.
And suddenly I remembered the vodka downstairs and it dawned on me that I had
felt unsteady ever since finishing my shot. My heart pounded. I had to get out
before they did the same thing to me.
I turned and walked towards the door, feeling giddy but trying desperately to
concentrate and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
"Where are you going Gemma? You're not dressed yet." Beth said. "You can't go
out like that."
Her girlish voice gave me the creeps now I knew it wasn't an act. That they had
brainwashed her in some way. I turned the handle of the door.
"It's dark out there," Beth said. "You can't go out like that."
And for some reason I froze. I was scared. I was in an alien environment. I
didn't know my way around. I was afraid of the dark. And even if I made it to
the bar I wasn't dressed right. I turned and walked back into the centre of the
room where I felt safer.
"What about this?" Beth said, holding up a tiny little pink teddy with dangling
suspenders.
"Beth, listen, it's me, Gemma. You must remember?" I pleaded. "You came here to
do a story, to expose some massive cover-up, you're a journalist remember. You
didn't come here to be a stripper. Beth you have to listen to me, something very
weird is happening here. We have to get out. Is there a back door, a fire exit,
anything?"
"What are you talking about a journalist. Are you drunk or something? I'm not a
journalist. I'm a stripper. I've been doing this for years. I'm one of the
best."
"Beth we have to get out?"
"Look honey, whatever it is you're on, share it with me. My name's Maddie and
I'm a stripper. I mean for God's sakes, what else am I going to do with a body
like this?"
It's true Beth did have a great body. She always had, really voluptuous. In fact
it used to annoy Beth that she'd get more attention for her figure than she did
for her academic work. That's why she always used to wear baggy clothes that hid
her figure.
"I mean why on Earth would I want to escape? This is the most wonderful place in
the world. I've always wanted to be a stripper, ever since I was a little girl
playing dress-up with my mothers clothes. And, okay, I know this place isn't the
most lavish place in the world, but that's why the girls have agreed not to be
paid. We're donating our wages to The Organisation. We want to help out in any
way we can."
"Beth you have a degree, a Masters in journalism. You're talking like a
braindead bimbo," I said.
"Oh don't be cruel," she said, a little hurt.
Then another wave hit me, almost washing me off my feet. A warm rush of pleasure
and a tingling feeling shivering down my back and down into my cunt.
This was getting too strange. I had to tell myself that this really was Beth.
She had changed almost beyond all recognition. I wanted to get out of here, but
I like I said was on foreign ground. I didn't know my way around and felt
drained of my normal confidence in dealing with practical matters like this.
Then another wave hit me. Like a bolt this time and I shivered with delight. I
felt warm and gushy and began to wonder why I was trying to fight such wonderful
sensations in the first place.
"I think this would look good on you, Gemma," Beth said, holding up a little
leopard skin dress with a plunging neckline.
I took it and ran my hands over the soft velvety material. It felt so good to
touch. I put it to my face and ran it over my cheek, feeling its soft kiss.
"Try it on, Gemma," Gloria said walking back into the room. She was smiling now,
but it was smug, mocking smile.
"Okay," I smiled, and another rush of warm tingliness came over me. I felt
breathless and excited. I practically fell over tearing off my normal clothes in
the rush to have this dress hugging my body.
"Oh yes, very nice, Gemma," Gloria said. "Very sexy. You feel so sexy, don't you
Gemma."
I had to admit I did.
"I think this is definitely the real you Gemma. You feel relaxed here. You feel
free to express the real you. The real you, Gemma. Not the person that you've
thought you had to be all these years. The lie you've led just to keep your
friends and family happy. This is you, the slut. The slut that likes to dance to
dirty music. The slut that likes to strip in front of a room full of horny men.
The slut that likes to flirt with men, seduce them and bring them here to us at
The Organisation." Gloria sat me down in front of the mirror surrounded by bulbs
and started to do my make-up.
Perhaps she was right. I had never felt as sexy as I did now. So warm and
comfortable. Perhaps this was the real me fighting to get out. The side of me
I'd always been too mousy and frightened to show. The exhibitionist. The slut.
Maddie pulled my top down and wrapped a corset around me to cinch me in at the
waist and push up my tits, smiling at me in the mirror. It felt wonderful. I'd
never really been pampered myself like this before. It was heavenly. Just
heavenly. I watched my face changing in the mirror as Gloria applied more
make-up; bright red lips, long, false eyelashes heavy with black mascara, black
eye-liner and gold metallic looking eye-shadow. My hair was sprayed and mussed
and styled to twice its normal volume. I looked like a slut. And, more
importantly, I felt like a slut.
I closed my eyes and stretched. I may even have dosed off for a while. It was
hard to tell. I was feeling do floaty and dreamy. But I thought I heard Gloria
explaining my new life in The Organisation. Telling me that, "The Organisation
is the most important thing in your life now Gemma. You will put The
Organisation above your friends, above your family, above any aspect of your old
life. The Organisation is everything. You are nothing. The Organisation is
everything. You are nothing." I thought I felt my lips move, repeating, 'The
Organisation is everything. I am nothing.' "You have no use for money anymore,
Gemma. You want The Organisation to have your money. You want to Organisation to
have all your tips. You are nothing. You exist to make money for your beloved
Organisation. The greatest feeling in the world is handing over your earnings
for the good of The Organisation. You are a bimbo Gemma. You are a slut. You
know that you are an inferior human being. You would be nothing without The
Organisation. The only thing you have ever been able to do is take your clothes
off in public and you feel so grateful to The Organisation for allowing you to
use your few talents to benefit them. The Organisation is everything. You are
nothing." Gloria's voice drifted on but it no longer registered in my conscious
mind.
"She looks perfect, doesn't she?" Maddie said when I opened my eyes.
Gloria leant over my shoulder and talked to my sluttish reflection in the
mirror. "Yes she does Maddie. Just perfect. She's one of us now. Aren't you my
sweet." Gloria's tone was superior and triumphant but that didn't seem wrong any
more.
"Yes, Gloria." My voice sounded different somehow, lighter, fluffier.
"And I think you owe a debt of gratitude to The Organisation for bringing out
the real you, don't you, honey."
"Oh yes Gloria. Of course. I'm sorry, I hadn't thought. How stupid of me." She
was right. If it hadn't been for The Organisation I might never have discovered
the real me.
"The first thing you will do is allow yourself to be renamed. The Organisation
bestows new names on all its members. It helps you to feel you belong here and
to distance yourself from your horrible lonely past, your cruel parents and your
unhappy childhood."
"Just forget about the old you," Maddie said. "It works wonders for your
confidence."
"Now then, my dear, your name from now on will be Felicity Lovelace, do you
understand?"
"Yes, Gloria."
"Call me Miss Stone, Felicity, I am your superior after all."
"Yes, of course, I'm sorry Miss Stone."
"That's quiet alright. Just don't let it happen again, or you will be put into
our penal wing where uncooperative sluts like you are turned into kennel maids
for our guard dogs."
"Yes Miss Stone, sorry Miss Stone."
"That's better Felicity. Now follow Maddie through the bar and up to the door. I
want to see you work your arses off for The Organisation. Is that understood?"
"Yes Miss Stone, perfectly."
"And remember the whole meaning of your existence is to make money for The
Organisation and to recruit new members. So if a man offers you money to fuck
him you will be more than happy to. That way The Organisation makes more money
and you have a greater chance of persuading that man do join us. Understood?"
"Yes Miss Stone."
"There are various methods we use for entrapment, drugs, hypnosis, subliminal
messages, et cetera. But it's your first day and I just want you go out front
with Maddie here and show me how many men you can pull in with pure, brainless
determination. The more experienced girls will take care of their minds. But
don't worry you'll get your chance at that too. There is plenty of time for
further training. You are, after all, here for life."
I nodded submissively. I was determined to work harder than anyone else and
recruit more new members than anyone else. I didn't want to let The Organisation
down. And I wanted to reward Gloria for showing so much faith in me.
Maddie and I stood on the door giggling in our tarty little outfits and cooing
at all the men as they walked passed. After just a couple of minutes I caught
someone's eye and worked him­so to speak, using all my feminine wiles to twist
his head and get him inside, even though I could see he really wasn't sure that
he wanted to. It felt wonderful. I knew that the girls would persuade him to
stay. I knew he would soon be part of The Organisation. And I knew that nothing
else mattered to me anymore.
THE END