Bimbo Bakery - Pageant Puffs Ch. 01

Bimbo Bakery: Pageant Puffs

Synopsis: A fancy new bakery has opened in the small college town of New Billington. When stressed out Pageant Mom; Candice walks through the shop's doors, she doesn't know that what she is purchasing are more than just innocent pastries. A tale of naughty MILF Bimbofication where a high-strung woman learns to really let her hair down and have a little dirty fun.

Part One: Open For Business.

"Mom, did you hear me? I said I prefer the emerald ballgown with the sequins."

Candice looked up from her phone with a guilty start to look at her daughter Madeline whose head was poking through the changing room curtain.

"Are you sure, Sweety? It has a lot of fabric you know..." She protested weakly as the young woman frowned unhappily back at her.

Well it was true, the over-elaborate gown did have a lot of fabric. A lot of very costly fabric at that.

Candice was sitting on a small padded stool in Madam Sentani's; a high-end bridal and evening wear boutique crowded in on all sides by racks and hangers overflowing with dresses, slips and gowns. They came in every hue, style and cut conceivable. All in shining silk, soft satin and sheerest chiffon trimmed in delicate lace, elegantly embroidered or beaded with glittering rhinestones.

The deceptively small tags hanging from sleeves and backs held devastating prices. Each garment was hideously expensive as though to counterbalance with how extravagantly glamorous it promised to make the lucky buyer appear. Candice was sitting upright and tense, trying not to touch anything on the off chance she might have to pay for it.

"Well, let me see how you look before we come to a final verdict." She gave Madeline a weak smile and gestured her over.

Madeline harrumphed her way out of the stall and struck a pose--one of her pageant poses--with limited success. The gown was luxurious in soft crimson tulle, the fitted satin bodice showcased a sweetheart neckline and beaded lace straps. It, like everything else in the store, was gorgeous and had the added appeal of being one of the only affordable pieces on display.

Quite unlike the sequined emerald ballgown with its rolling acres of lavish silks and exorbitant crystal ornamentation.

"Oh Madeline, I think you look lovely..."

"Lovely isn't going to impress the Judges, Mom." Madeline groused, "I need to look stunning to score well in the evening-wear round. I need the emerald ballgown."

What Candice needed was some fresh air. The shop felt stuffy with lady's perfume, the closeness of all the cloth and the crushing metaphysical weight of retail extortion. She stood up trying to maintain the increasingly fragile smile.

"How about you get changed, Sweety. Mommy just needs to step outside for a minute to make a phone call."

It was a lie but a harmless one. A small price to pay to settle her troubled mind and one she suspected would be the smallest price she would be shelling out for today if Madeline got her way. Her daughter gave her a suspicious glare.

"You're not going to smoke are you? You said you quit."

"Just a phone call, I promise. I'll be right back." Candice assured as she pushed through the crowded racks for the front door.

Candice wanted a cigarette. Oh, how she wanted a cigarette!

...but she had promised herself a fresh start when they had made the move out to the Midwest. A new marriage, a new home, a new job and a new her.

So far it wasn't going so well.

The family had moved to New Billington when her newlywed husband Grant had accepted a Research Associate position with the local College. It made a lot of sense at the time. Housing costs were lower in the small college town and as a market research analyst who worked remotely from her laptop, Candice could earn her living anywhere that had power, a wireless signal and a half-decent coffee shop.

Then she had lost her job when the New York consulting firm she worked for was consolidated into some faceless mega-corp and her entire department was restructured to a rice paddy somewhere in South-East Asia.

There wasn't much demand for over-qualified market analysts in New Billington, Indiana population 53,000. So Candice's new job was in a small four-story concrete office block, performing mindless data-entry for a locally-based freight and logistics carrier. She even had her very own five by five cardboard cubicle that felt as warm and personal as a prison cell.

Then there was her not-so-happy home life to comfort Candice. Madeline had not been best pleased with being uprooted from her teenage life in the city and turned all that resultant angst on her new step-father Grant. Blaming the bookish, intellectual man for her unwelcome relocation and keeping the tensions in their white-picket place of residence at an all-time high.

Candice knew Grant was trying his best, Dear Lord he was trying but he was a deep thinker who preferred feelings more in theory than in practice. He wasn't exactly cold, per se but a logical and rational debater unaccustomed to the wild mood swings and incapable of effectively communicating with an upset teenage girl he didn't know how to parent.

Oh and to top it all, Candice was gaining weight. There was the whole hand to mouth action--Candice disliked the term "oral fixation" on principle--which felt empty without a cigarette but was seductively replaceable with a quick snack.

Maybe that was why she stopped where she did on the small town's charming main street. The constant commercial turn-over from a few thousand college coeds a year sustained these broad boulevards lined with bars, shops, restaurants, and other small businesses that still retained their vintage flair. They were the quintessential hubs of any small community and unchanging as a mountain face. So it was always something of a surprise to see a new storefront appear among the old sandwich boards leaning out in front of the hardware store and the ancient wrought iron benches set outside the local deli.

B.B's Boulangerie Pâtisserie

The words were painted in a curling flourishing font and framed in a tasteful art deco border on a blade-sign that looked so fresh the paint must have still been drying. It was set above a pastel blue striped french awning that shaded the large front display window and the quaint timber and glass entry-door with an actual brass bell affixed to the frame.

Candice paused in front of it, worrying at her lower lip as she looked back and forth up the sleepy street. The morning bustle had died down with most students in classes and the locals hard at work. Where she would be if not for Madeline's damnable gown fitting. When had the new business moved into the area? She couldn't remember seeing any workmen renovating the store or even remember what had been in its place before. New Billington wasn't large but... well, she was still fairly new to town.

The strangest part was how clean it all appeared.

Part of the old town charm was things that had that worn-by-time look, like antiques got. A lovingly long-lived sense of craggy brick walls rubbed smooth by decades of weather or wooden handrails deeply stained and polished by the countless thousands of hands that had gripped them.

Not here though, the storefront was brightly coloured and immaculate. The crayola yellow paintwork was faultless, the window glass smudge-free and spotless, even the footpath looked freshly scrubbed until it was near bone-white. It was as though something had sliced this bakery right out of a picture-book and dropped it right between Harold's Home Hardware and Grouchoe's Deli.

The bell above the door chimed prettily as she stepped inside. The overhead lights were so bright she had to shade her eyes and the smell! The sweet odor of sugar with exotic undertones of spice filled the air so thoroughly it tickled her taste buds. The entire interior was painted in shades of pastel pink and soft indistinct music lilted gently from hidden speakers.

Polished glass display cases were set in a neat row on either of an ornately carved wooden counter with an old fashioned nickel and brass Patterson cash register gleaming atop it.

Behind it stood a woman, she was posed so erect and motionless that Candice almost mistook her for a mannequin until she turned her head and smiled.

"Hi!" She said brightly then giggled as if she had said something amusing.

"Ummm... Hello." Candice replied, blinking away the spots in her vision. The colours, the reflections, the lighting... Everything was very bright in here.

"Hi, hi!" The woman chirped again then continued to grin expectantly at her. As though she could stand there patiently all day smiling vapidly.

She was very beautiful, Candice could admit that with only a small pang of envy. She had high cheekbones and slightly upturned eyes. Her skin looked soft as a peach and her plump lips were painted the same pink colour as the paint on the walls. Her hair was blonde like golden sheaths of wheat in the sunshine, thick and hung in a long braid down her back.

"I was just stopping by to say hi, I've not seen you before." Candice said in a friendly tone before asking, "Are you new?"

The woman's fashion was decidedly odd. She wore the ruffled white farmhouse apron of a storekeeper from last century but under it she was snugly wrapped in a candy-stripe mini-dress that clung to her slender hourglass figure like a second skin. It stretched over thick hips, cinched in tight to a tiny waist before traveling up to explode outwards over a frankly ridiculous pair of breasts that pushed out the top frill of the apron in defiance of all Newtonian laws of physics.

Her cleavage was so immense that Candice thought she could smuggle entire baguettes within its pillowy valleys. A small embroidered frame on her apron had the letters B.B. within it.

"Yes... new, all new. All new B.B. Nice and pretty." The blonde sang and then burst into another fit of giggles that made her huge breasts ripple. Did this B.B. think Candice was asking about her? She had meant to ask about the business. What was going on...

"Hello? Please wait a moment..." A deep male voice called from a dividing curtain behind the counter.

It was yellow. Like a lemon drop she noted distractedly. She took a deep breath of the sweet tasting air again, it was nice.

Very calming.

Her eyes fell to the display cases and stared. Beneath the shining glass were rows of little pastries and delicately iced confections arranged beautifully in perfect rank and file on little silver trays and lacy white paper doilies.

The pastries were fabulously golden, the tiny iced sweets were glossy, they glistened like cut gemstones in so many different shapes and colours it was like looking at a vast coral reef under warm tropical waters. It was entrancing.

"Welcome Mademoiselle, I see you are admiring my humble wares."

Candice returned to the present to find a tall and darkly handsome man standing across the display from her with a pleased smile upon his lips.

"S-sorry..." She stammered apologetically, "I was just looking."

She was looking at him now, drinking him in. He didn't look like any Baker she had ever met. They all tended to be fat jolly types with layers of chins sporting well worn aprons and flour dusting them up to the elbows.

This man wasn't even wearing an apron but instead a crisp white button up shirt with a candy red necktie and trim chocolate brown waistcoat over it. The sleeves weren't even rolled up, instead they bulged against large muscles at his shoulders and biceps, buttoned smartly at the cuffs with ruby cufflinks and there wasn't any sign of dough on his large hands or under his fingernails.

"No please, forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. Look all you like." He said waving airily. His voice was richly accented, continental. "I am very proud of my creations."

Creations... Candice found his command of English a bit off as her eyes locked on a small tray of glistening chocolate eclairs. Each was only the size of her thumb, perfectly identical to its companions and filled with rich ivory white cream. Cream... She licked her lips.

"You bake these in a factory somewhere? They are all very pretty..."

"A factory Mademoiselle? You wound me!" He protested theatrically, clutching at his chest. B.B. giggled again and this time Candice joined her.

He was very charming.

"No, I craft all my wares here, in-house and lovingly by hand as I was trained to do back home in Europe."

"You're the proprietor then?" She asked a little shyly and then clarified when he looked a bit confused, "The owner of the bakery?"

"Me? Never..." He replied, looking surprised, "Excuse, but I am merely a poor artist. My name is Jean, Jean Bimbeau..."

The name sounded a bit funny to Candice but she stifled a giggle not wishing to be rude. Jean slid an arm smoothly around B.B's waspish waist and gave her firm hip a squeeze before planting a small kiss on her rosy cheek.

"...B.B. here is the owner. Without her genius none of this would have been possible."

He pronounced her name as Bae Bae in his warm, accented tongue. Candice's own tongue licked her lips again.

The vapid blonde giggled again and snuggled into his side looking up at him with big adoring puppy-dog eyes. She didn't look like a genius to Candice but she didn't like to say so.

She stood there dumbly not knowing what to say next, just watching the gorgeous couple kanoodle briefly until Jean turned his attention back to her.

"My apologies, you are our first customer and as such you are our favourite customer. You do not want to listen to me bore you." He quipped, before turning the full force of his brilliant white smile on her again. "Please, tell us how we can help you today?"

Candice floundered, she didn't know what to say! She hadn't come in here intending to buy anything. Madeline was very insistent that they couldn't keep sweets in the house--she was watching her figure. What figure? The girl was as flat as a washboard!--and Candice was increasingly aware that her own behind was spreading into more of a pear than a peach ever since she quit smoking...

"Mademoiselle, you look alarmed! Calm yourself." Jean exclaimed in concern. "Take a deep breath..."

His voice was very soothing, Candice took a deep breath.

Sugar and spice and everything nice. Just like in the nursery rhymes. She almost giggled again but let out a relaxing sigh instead.

"... that's better, now tell humble Jean what troubles you so."

Candice didn't know how long she spent in B.B's Boulangerie Pâtisserie. She had vague recollections of pouring her heart out to the man (he was so handsome and sympathetic) about her job, the move interstate, the tensions at home and troubles with Madeline...

"She fell in with a clique of very pretty girls who are all caught up in the beauty pageant scene and now..."

Jean had nodded his head making sympathetic noises while B.B. mimicked him like a brainless bobblehead. They... He was sooo~ understanding.

She had read up on pageant culture, educated herself on the soaring highs and crushing lows the vulnerable young women experienced with every win and loss. The mental and eating disorders that were commonplace amongst the contestants. The objectification and chauvinism from the predominantly male judges. The backbiting and sniping between the girls and the mother's...

"I don't want to be a pageant mom! They are all a bunch of horrible, conniving vipers. I don't think Madeline is even attractive enough to compete... Does saying that make me a bad mom too?"

She wept but it was true. Barely past her eighteenth birthday Madeline still had the figure of a fourteen year old boy. It was like puberty had passed her by and forgotten to swing back around to her. Her hair was long but mud brown, unmanageable and frizzy like Candice's own. She was stick thin but lacked any womanly curves unlike the other girls who just seemed to blossom further into womanhood more and more each day.

Then there was the expenses, money wasn't exactly tight with both Candice and Grant both working but the cost of hiring make-up artists, custom tailoring elaborate gowns, buying designer swimwear and the pageant classes...

"I believe I understand the problem." Jean said, holding up his big hands palm out to slow her rambling to a stop. "You are stressed, overwhelmed, you feel unheard and unappreciated. I think we can help."

The "we" was lost on Candice as B.B. had wandered off somewhere during her endless meandering outpouring but Jean just looked at her with compassion. She blushed, embarrassed under his soulful gaze.

"Do you like cream puffs?" He asked, changing the topic abruptly and reaching down to slide open the back of a display.

Cream puffs?

Cream...

"I... I guess. Yes?" Candice stammered uncertainty, watching as Jean placed a silver tray with fillagried edges on the glass before her.

It was populated with small flakey balls of oven-bronzed pastry the size of her knuckle topped with a tiny dollop of shiny pearlescent white icing. Each one was identical to its brother beside it in every way and had a weighty look to them that belied their diminutive dimensions.

"Try one, I think it may help with your problems." Jean said, picking one delicately up between his big thumb and forefinger to hold out to her.

Candice's mouth watered but she swallowed it back.

"I can't, money is so tight right now and you... You haven't discussed prices..." She whimpered piteously as she all but drooled for the tasty treat he held up to her face.

"No price. It is... How do you Americans say?" His dark brows knitted before breaking into a smile again, "A free sample, yes. Free for you; our first and most favourite customer."

Candice relaxed and stretched out her tongue obediently. Jean smiled reassuringly and gently placed the small pastry on her moist, pink flesh.

It was impossibly delicate and dissolved like spun sugar on her taste buds. She moaned as an ecstatic shiver curled her toes and tremored through her body. The thick cream within sat heavy on her tongue--slightly salty but totally delectable--before sliding readily down her throat and making her shudder again.

"Mmmmmmmph~ M-More?" She begged softly, her eyes heavily lidded and tongue still extended.

Jean smiled at her, so pleased and effortlessly charming.

So very big and dashing.

"Certainly Miss Candi, I shall pack you a dozen with our compliments"

Strangely, Candice couldn't recall if she had told him her name or not.

Candice was back on the boulevard, a bright pink pastry box in hand walking back towards Madam Sentani's with a new spring in her step.

She was light on her feet, she felt like was walking on clouds. She licked her lips, relishing the salty sweetness clinging to them and giggled when the taste made her tingle all over.

It was so fun to giggle, she couldn't understand why she didn't giggle more often. What had she been so concerned about earlier?

Oh yeah, her darling Madeline needed a pretty dress for her Pageant. Something about how expensive it was... Candice frowned then slid a hand under the cardboard lid of the box and pulled out a small flakey pastry.

She could have one more, right? Just the one, then she could face all the problems the world could throw at her with a smile. One teensy-weensy little cream puff wouldn't be so bad...