The following is a work of fiction and is intended for adult readers only. It is based on characters developed by Toxis and The Mayor of Cherish and deals with mature subject mature. For background read their stories at www.bimbofiction.com .
To say that her first practice with the OTTII Proton All Star Baseball team was a complete embarrassment to the sport was the understatement of the year, maybe even the decade. Afterwards, Nicole had collapsed on her bed, weeping uncontrollably for hours. She was so ashamed, so depressed; she contemplated leaving Japan on the next flight home. But then realized that only more shame and humiliation waited there for her. She couldn’t stay…she couldn’t leave…she was trapped, laying on her pink comforter with the days events replaying in her mind over-and-over again.
It had started with the ridiculous pink leather baseball glove they had given her. It was far too small, but since her own glove was still missing with her luggage…she had no choice. The white jersey knit gloves padlocked over her hands only made matters worse. The pink glove kept slipping off, causing her to drop nearly every ball that was thrown her way.
The knit gloves also served to make it impossible to throw properly. Her distance was pathetic, her control nonexistent and when at bat, they gave her practically no grip at all. After letting the bat slip from her hands several times, she reverted to a silly looking bunt, just to connect with the ball. She felt like some kind of silly wanna-be baseball player pretending to play with professionals.
Her situation wasn’t lost on the other members of the team. The Japanese players mocked her in their native tongue, while the few American players muttered amongst each other in low voices. This was especially true when she ran for first base. Her freshly waxed, tight feeling skin coupled with those preposterous wedge-heeled sneakers forced her to take tiny minced steps instead of the powerful stride that she usually used. She would barely make it half way to first base before the first baseman had the ball. The team would burst into uproarious laughter each time.
Nicole felt horrible. Like her career was finished. It wasn’t until Mr. Fuji appeared at her door the next day that her mood improved. He tried to console her as she drank her morning tea, telling her that the head coach was impressed by her and understood that all athletes falter from time to time. She would be given another chance to redeem herself, but it would require a more focused effort on her part.
Her eyes welled with tears of joy at the news. She thanked Mr. Fuji and OTTII repeatedly for understanding and promised to follow the training regimen religiously. Mr. Fuji smiled and told her that he knew she would.
In the days and weeks (she was loosing track of time lately) after that awful experience she would spend the mornings warming up for her aerobics session. The LCD panel in her room would be playing the latest Yummy Yamaguchi video. Nicole actually didn’t mind it too much. Maybe Yummy wasn’t so bad after all. She was, after all, one of the most popular artists in the country. She would twist and stretch to the pulsating techno beat, stopping occasionally to take a sip of her morning protein shake. The quality of the shakes were deteriorating. They were no longer as pink as before, nor were they as fruity. They must have a bad batch.
She turned to the mirror as the video ended, checking her face and hair. It was important to OTTII that she have a pleasant appearance at all times. This meant wearing makeup, something she had never been a huge fan of before, but she had promised to follow her training regimen to a tee. So if wearing a little bit of foundation, lip gloss, blush and eye makeup was what was required of her…then so be it. It wasn’t so bad, actually. The other girls in the aerobics class had given her some help, and she still wasn’t putting as much on as they did at the salon. They really caked it on her every time she was there, which was every two weeks now.
The girls at the salon had told her that someday she would learn to make her face as pretty as they made it. Then more men would find her appealing. The last part had been said in Japanese, so Nicole wasn’t a hundred percent sure if that is what they actually meant. Her Japanese skills were still very weak, but she was working hard with her interactive LCD Panel to improve. She practiced key phrases that OTTII believed to be of high importance, like “Is my appearance more pleasing to you then before? Do you enjoy the sight of me? May I participate in playing balls with you?”
Nicole thought the phrases to be odd, but then again…everything in Japan seemed to be odd to her. The monitor in her room explained that it was because of her ignorant American upbringing. She was socially less developed than her Japanese counterparts. It would affect her ability to integrate properly into Japanese society unless she was very studious and trusting that OTTII is training her properly. Not wanting to be embarrassed further, Nicole listened to everything she was told, and tried her best to apply it…even when it was completely outrageous.
Such an example occurred one day when her Japanese language tutorial included the phrase “A girl like me needs training and conditioning to become more pleasing to men”. Nicole was shocked. “What a sexist thing to say!” she said aloud, “I’m not saying that!” The monitor’s speakers repeated the phrase while the characters blinked repeatedly. She refused. The phrase was repeated again. Nicole sat on her bed, her arms crossed in defiance. “What the hell does this have to do with baseball??” she scoffed. The phrase repeated again. Nicole became angry. This wasn’t what she had signed up for…this wasn’t playing baseball…this wasn’t the deal.
The LCD Panel went blank, then a new phrase appeared, “It is time for a break”. A small compartment opened in the wall, exposing a tall frothy glass full of pale-pink. It was time for her afternoon snack. Without hesitation Nicole grabbed the glass, and inserted the straw between her lips. That’s odd, she thought, They’re using bigger straws again. It was true, the straws had gone from a quarter inch, to half an inch…and now to three-quarter of an inch. She struggled at first to get adequate suction on the enlarged straw, but soon found a position for her lips and mouth that would allow her to drink the thick milkshake. Only…it wasn’t quite as thick as before. It was just as creamy, but not as thick. And it wasn’t quite as sweet as before. In fact…it was almost salty. Nicole shrugged her shoulders and kept drinking. Even though the shakes were getting poorer and poorer, she always felt so good when she was drinking them…she couldn’t explain it…but it was true.
She had soon finished the glass and set it back in its receptacle. She turned back to the LCD Panel to continue with her language tutorial. The text flashed across and a voice spoke through the speakers, “Please forgive me, I am such a silly girl”. Nicole wiped the corner of her mouth, then repeated the phrase, “Please forgive me, I am such a silly girl”. The next phrase was “I wish to improve my behavior by learning more about Japanese customs.” Nicole complied by repeating the words as well as she could. “I wish to improve my behavior by learning more about Japanese customs.”
The next Japanese phrase that came through the speakers and was displayed on the monitor was “ I know that men will find a silly girl like me to be attractive”, followed of course by an English translation. Nicole paused, then remembered the previous phrase. She did want to improve her behavior. She did want to learn more about Japanese customs. So if OTTII decided that she needed to know how to say such a phrase, then she would learn it.
“ I know that men will find a silly girl like me to be attractive”, she repeated the phrase again, “ I know that men will find a silly girl like me to be attractive”, this time she improved her dialect and pronunciation.
“A silly girl like me needs training and conditioning to become more pleasing to men”, was the next phrase.
Nicole paused again after reading the translation in small print under the Japanese characters. Something in the back of her mind was reeling. What the hell are they getting me to say?? Then she remembered that she needed to redeem herself to OTTII. She needed to improve her behavior. She needed to learn more about Japanese customs. Then and only then would all be well.
She bit her lip then spoke, “A silly girl like me needs training and conditioning to become more pleasing to men.” She blushed.
The LCD Panel seemed pleased, writing “Nikko is a good girl” in English and Japanese. The words may Nicole smile, even if they had misspelled her name. The phrase repeated on the monitor, this time accompanied by speech, “Nikko is a good girl”. Nicole looked confused. Do they want me to repeat that? “I am a good girl” she spoke in English. The monitor repeated the phrase. Nicole responded, “Nicole is a good girl,” she said in her choppy Japanese. They monitor remained blank for several moments, with Nicole waiting to see if she had done well.
“Nikko is a good girl” the panel and speakers repeated for the fourth time. Nicole finally gave in. “Nikko is a good girl”, she said, feeling her face go flush. It felt weird to use a different name. Not necessarily bad, just weird.
An OTTII logo appeared on the monitor, then morphed into a smiling happy face, then back into an OTTII logo. Nicole knew that OTTII was pleased, and that was a good thing.
From that moment forward, things changed. The girls in the aerobics class were friendlier to her; things seemed more relaxed and her training and conditioning became much easier. Aerobics class was now two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, with Japanese language and now cultural tutorials on her large LCD Panel in between. The salon trips were more frequent too, now occurring every week. She was told that it was necessary to maintain her proper appearance. All she knew was it meant more and more, blonder and blonder highlights in her newly straightened hair, with shorter and shorter bangs. And finally the knit gloves were removed from her hands. Nicole remembered that day well.
She had stared at the sculptured half-inch tipped nails for hours back in her room. They were so long, and shiny and pleasing. A part of her wanted them to be longer, but then how would she play baseball properly? She thought back to her first practice with the team, the humiliation, the embarrassment. She could not allow that to happen again, but she loved how pleasing her nails appeared. Surely the team members would find them pleasing too. It was so very important that a silly girl like her be pleasing to men. She would ask about longer nails next time she was at the salon.
On this day she was meeting with Mr. Herakini, or Herakini-San as she was told to call him. He had invited her to the private box to watch the game and to discuss her progress with the team. Fuji-San, er…Mr. Fuji had told her that she was progressing very well, but Nicole wasn’t so sure. She had yet to play an actual game of baseball, and aside from her humiliating practice with the team, she hadn’t practiced in any productive manner for many weeks. Maybe even man months, she couldn’t be sure. Time no longer mattered as much. Time was an American obsession that made them unproductive and ignorant. Nicole did not want to be an ignorant American. It was better not to think about time. OTTII would think about it for her so that she could concentrate more on her improvements.
She stood before the mirror reciting Japanese phrases as she inspected her appearance. Mr. Fuji had given her a nice new outfit for her meeting. Tight fitting pink ¾ length Capri pants over her white knee-high stockings and pink platform sandals with 4” heels was the foundation of her attire. Over her white corset (which was really starting to shape her body into a perfectly curvy hourglass) was a white blouse, emblazoned with and OTTII logo, that hugged tightly to her ever-improving figure. The blouse was defective however, as the top buttons were missing, exposing the tops of her corset-compressed breasts. No matter, she thought, perhaps Herakini-San will find her pleasing regardless of the defective shirt.
She had pulled her multi-tonal blonde hair back into a high ponytail. Her skin, paler since her last facial was made up with great care and effort. Frosted pink lips, glossy and wet, with rosy cheeks and dramatic eyes, drawn out at the corners to give her a faux-Asian look, and colored with bright pink and OTTII blue. Large hoop earrings hung from either ear. Nicole would normally have thought that such a look was meant for the dancing girls in her aerobics class, and not for a professional athlete like her herself, but she knew it was required of her to look pleasing for men. The head of the OTTII Corporation was the most important man she could think of.
She puckered her painted lips as she practiced her Japanese. “Greetings Herakini-San. I hope that you notice a great improvement in my attitude and appearance. I am working hard to be more pleasing to men. I am eager to learn the culture of your superior country and your massive company.” She repeated this over and over until she was convinced she had it perfect.
It had to be perfect. Perfection was needed for her to restore her honor, to lift the shame placed on her by her prior actions. She repeated the phrases under her breath in the hallway as Fuji-San escorted her to the private box. She would impress Herakini-San. She would use the knowledge given to her by OTTII.
OTTII would look after her. It was good to belong to OTTII.