Jessica's Change Management Ch. 22

Even though Reptile's speech sounded convincing, his two buddies looked more than unconvinced. Apparently, it took more than a few hollow words to persuade them.

"Present yourself!" My fellow graduate suddenly barked in my direction.

First, Consultant-me was baffled then resisted. First, Bimbo-me shrieked hysterically then tried hardest to get me moving. With my former classmates present, however, my rational side prevailed, so much so that I couldn't act that vulgar, especially not in such a public place. Somehow, though, a bit of bimbo bubble managed to break the professional surface. Probably 'cause clownish schoolgirl uniform.

Stretching my arms out, I acted like a presenter, or more like a cheesy shopping channel host. With both palms up, I gestured towards my juicy juggs and along my hips as if presenting the newest fashion collection. As hammy as I acted, as noisily Consultant-me protested, so much so that I couldn't bring myself to giggle. Anyhow, it was a start. It was better than nothing.

"Never seen any bitch so proud of being a phat ass white girl. That's why she calls herself Assy Carr. No kidding!" Mr. Alum explained with a snort.

Please, what?!? Assy Carr! I must have looked like I had seen a ghost 'cause it made my fellow graduates roar with laughter. Had he just chosen a nom de porn for me? That name was as degrading as it was revealing. I mean, it almost sounded like me real name, right?

"Bent, Assy!" The reptile dude already barked the next order.

While Consultant-me's protest grew, I slowly turned around until my ass faced my old classmates. Reaching back, I made the same cheesy gesture to present my bootilicious butt. The tight skirt was short enough to reveal my bow tattoos. Yet, Mr. Alum grabbed the navy-blue material and pulled it all the way over my buns. High enough to reveal my pussy and asshole but not high enough to show off my lip tattoos.

SMACK! SMACK!

Without a heads-up, the reptile dude gave each bun a harsh slap. It was so brutal that I shrieked. After all, I was getting slapped by a former classmate, which made it extra shameful

"Say thank you, Porny!" He growled at me.

You should have seen his buddies' looks -- a mixture of surprise, lewdness, contempt, and lechery. You should have heard Consultant-me's reaction -- a mixture of disgust, worry, stubbornness, and swearing. Yet, nobody could hear it 'cause it was only in my head.

Anyway, the drive to gain more points was equalized by the fear of getting identified by my former classmates. The reptile dude's alpha male attitude was equalized by the college memories. This was a real struggle!

"Thank you. I mean, thank...sies, sir." I said with a small voice, trying hard to sound more bimboy but failing miserably.

Jeez! I really had a hard time acting the bimbo in the presence of my fellow classmates. Before, it had been difficult to suppress my bimbo babble. Now, it was difficult to prattle away. Bad timing! Cause I had to be super convincing to fool these sexist bastards.

"Believe it dawgs, this bitch takes extra pride in being a porno bimbo not a pornstar." Mr. Alum addressed his buddies. "You know what that means?"

Oh shoot! He didn't let that topic slide, did he? Especially as I had been the overachiever in college. I guess this was his payback.

"Um, generally, pornstars are dumb 'n only good to get used as meat puppets, right?" Mr. Mercenary took a guess.

Oh wow! Meat puppet? Seriously? What an insult!

"Yeah, but it's more than that. Dumb gets the answer wrong. A bimbo doesn't even have a guess." Mr. Jetset explained.

Oh boy! That was even worse than the first slight. Consultant-me was more than indignant, so much so that I opened my mouth to argue. Bimbo-me barely managed to prevent me from saying a word, quickly making me put my forefinger on my puckered lips, or more like the tip of my golden Leopard-print nail. At least, a bimboy move. Phew! What a close call!

"Gotta say, though, that ass looks like nothing special." Mr. Jetset wasn't impressed. "The bitch should better call herself Boobsie. You know, 'cause she looks like a pair of boobs that constantly makes oopsies!"

"Ahahaha! Ahahaha!" All three douchey dudes had a ball at my expense.

"Heheheh! True dat!" Mr. Alum responded, sounding anything but his age.

"So... she's only good to provide entertainment." He explained. "That's why we've come to an agreement. I make the decisions 'n she makes the porno stuff. Plain 'n simple."

That should have sounded logical, but it didn't, 'cause I was still thinking too rationally. Once more, Consultant-me made me open my mouth to reason while Bimbo-me barely managed to prevent further damage with my patented 'lip grip'. Cocking my head, I put my right cheek in my palm and puckered my lips to give the bestest vapid bimbo expression before nodding in agreement. Just in time, with the elevator doors opening by the way. We had arrived at the ground floor.

"First decision I'm making for you, Porny." Mr. Alum didn't relent. "Take us on a tour across the trade show floor. Show us the good stuff, Assy!"

Oh Lordy! The entire situation was overwhelming me. I was caught between a stone and a hard place, acting rationally and getting found out or acting bimboy and getting embarrassed. The reptile dude had really done a number on me despite my rational state, turning me from a business assistant into a pornstar. Oh damn! That had escalated quickly!

"OK! Fine! But first, we should introduce ourselves." I eventually said.

Jeez! I still didn't manage to talk all bubbly. Damned Consultant-me! No matter what, I held out my hand for my old classmates to kiss like I was a swanky lady. All the shiny gold, as in long fake nails, glittery rings, and dangly nail chains, however, made me look more like the most generic Barbie-slut. It definitely punctuated my whole porno schtick. As a result, Jetset Dawg looked at me like he was about to add another arm candy to his repertoire whereas Merc Dawg seemed to calculate the cost-benefit ratio of bothering with me.

"C'mon boys! Let me give you a sweet hug!" I couldn't bear the wait.

Stretching out my arms, I wrapped them around Mr. Jetset's neck and pressed my boobies against his chest. After a couple of seconds, I did the same to Mr. Mercenary. A part of me felt totally ashamed 'cause I hated pick-up artists. Another part felt liberated by acting before thinking.

So far, my rational side had only gotten me into one jam after the other. It had caused me the victory during the workshop and resulted in the yoga session getting out of hand. It had left me tied up in the wellness area and at Mr. Alum's mercy. Basically, every plan had backfired. Now, with my former classmates around, the situation was more dire than ever.

Right then and there, I was finally ready to let go. Bimbo-me had free reign 'cause it couldn't go any worse. Besides, I really didn't need any elaborate masterplan to find Mr. Weasel. I was pretty sure I would find him at the adult convention.

"C'mon, boys! Let me show you the... totally bitching stuff!" I suggested.

Even though I still fluffed my bimbo babble, I managed to dramatically stretch my arms out and point to the showroom entrance, perfectly channeling my cheesy shopping channel host. What the fuck was happening here? Unlike the train ride, the bimbo act didn't come natural to me. It seemed like the roles had been reversed. During the yoga session I had talked all bubbly and moved all defiantly. Now, I talked all professionally and moved all bimboy.

Shoot! This was happening at the worst time ever! This was the most inconvenient moment ever! I needed to fight back! If I couldn't control my talking, I had to rely on my actions! So I decided to do some extra bimboy stuff whenever I failed to babble stupidly. This time, I pulled out my lip enhancer and plumped up my lips to supersize. Bam!

Leading the way onto the trade show floor, I had Jetset Dawg and Merc Dawg on each side with Mr. Alum close behind me. My heart was pounding in overdrive 'cause I couldn't have been more tensed up. I was nervous about getting found out, anxious to find the sales champ, afraid to fumble the final chance to earn my pity point, and worried about my problems activating my bimbo act.

Anyhow, we were in the entrance area where the film studios had their booths. Spreading my arms excessively, I pointed to the different logos and company signs. With totally exaggerated gestures, I started talking about the different studios. I really tried to use as many fillers and expletives as I knew while presenting this studio as famous, that studio as a traditional label, and the other studio as popular, and whatever studio as whatsoever.

"Is this supposed to be a dissertation or some scientific investigation?" Mr. Alum whispered in my ear, so his buddies didn't overhear it. "You sound like the brown-nosing teacher pet I remember. No way, you're gonna dupe my dawgs like that."

"You better crank it up, Porny. Else, I gotta count this as a failure." He sternly told me. "Failure means more cuts to your outfit. Always remember that!"

Holy shoot! I was obviously fumbling the bimbo babble. Again! I still couldn't bring myself to use those dreaded fillers. Holy fuck! I had to do some extra bimboy stuff in compensation.

"Give me a B! Give me an I! Give me a M! Give me a B! Give me an O!" I shouted while throwing my hands in the air and shaking them like I was a cheerleader.

Turning an over-the-top enthusiastic pirouette, I headed over to a studio booth that sported a large poster with the heading 'Busty Bimbo Babes'. Just my place to be, right? Fortunately, Mr. Alum's buddies had barely listened to my talking as they were focused on watching my movements instead.

I was really making an effort here, giving my best to pose. However, I quickly found out that there was a problem I hadn't considered before. I wasn't the only scantily dressed, overacting bimbo in the house. Each booth was attended by one or two pornstars, giving autographs or posing for photographs. Predominantly, they were bleached blonde and fake-titted. Mostly, they were dolled-up and glammy. Primarily, they were young and popular. All told, they were tough competition.

Apparently, the competition was way too strong 'cause Merc Dawg had cast an eye at one of the bleached blonde babes with big fake titties already. According to the label on her tight crop top, her name was Heidy Moon Stratus. The meaning of her porn name was expressively underlined by the design of her top with a full moon covering each absurdly round fakebag and some hazy stratus clouds in between that formed an abstract pussy. Can you say ridiculous?!?

But wait! I knew the bleached blonde bitch! She had been Kilty at the frat boy party, one of the strippers D-Rod had brought along. Remember her? Apparently, she wasn't just a stripper but also working as a pornstar. Oh damn! I couldn't lose the dude's attention. I wouldn't be outdone by some fake, younger pornstar. It instantly made me feel jealous and aggressive, so much so that I stormed over to the booth.

"What silly name is that?" I got right into the girl's face.

"Did you stop here to laugh at her name too, Mister?" I asked Mr. Mercenary all bitchy.

"Go away wannabe!" The fake-ass pornstar told me in the most condescending way ever.

Please bitch! Of course, she wasn't having any of my patronizing. Of course, I wasn't having any of her arrogance. That was why we started tossing bitchy remarks and insults at each other and didn't stop until it almost degenerated into an actual bitchfight, what with hair pulling and scratching and all.

"Ladies, ladies! We can all agree that Assy Carr ain't the most sophisticated stage name either, is it?" Mr. Alum eventually pulled me away from the booth.

OMG! That name was so bad, making me stop and pause whenever I heard it. It sounded as trashy as porny. Mostly, though, it gave my former classmates a hint about my true identity. In panic, I looked around to see the douchey dudes' reaction. They laughed about the comical sound but didn't seem to get the broad hint. Yet!

"Assy 'n Moony, you both look like you're all tits no wits. So let's call it a tie 'n be friends." The reptile dude added loud enough for everybody to hear.

Just then I noticed that our little bitchfight had attracted lotsa attention. A crowd of visitors was watching. Oh my god! Mr. Alum had called me by that derogatory nickname for all to hear. He had also called me dumb for everybody to hear. Still, there was no such thing as bad attention, right? At least, not for Bimbo-me.

However, Mr. Alum knew how to turn it into worse attention. How? By getting impatient with me. Obviously, my bitchfight with the bleached blonde bitch had been the last straw. Apparently, it was enough to rate my previous performance as a failure. That was why he pulled out the dreaded knife.

Oh jeez! In front of all the visitors, he cut a triangle out of my navy-blue blouse. With that, he created a v-shaped neckline that showed off the inner halves of my fleshglobes. Oh shoot! Now, my cleavage and my underboobs were exposed.

He wasn't done, though. Instead, he cut a bunch of shreds into each side of my skirt. Inverting the previous pattern, he started with the biggest shred at the bottom, going smaller with each cut. Oh boy! Now, I had a v-shaped neckline, an inverted triangle of shreds in the back and front of my blouse as well as triangle shaped shreds at the sides of the skirt. Truth be told, there really wasn't much left of the schoolgirl uniform.

Even though his actions attracted more attention, the three dudes weren't so keen on being the main attraction. That was why they quickly led me to the next area. Actually, I wasn't that disappointed about the change of scenery. The way, reptile dude had compared me to that pornstar had made me feel extremely exchangeable and insecure.

"Look at all these bitches, man!" Jetset Dawg exclaimed. "One looks more glammy 'n skanky than the other. They're making you look more like an end-of-range model, Boobsie."

"Yeah! You could use some upgrades, meat puppet!" Merc Dawg added with a mean chuckle.

Ouch and ouch! That hurt! Both remarks actually. Calling me an old, out-of-date model was bad. Telling me I needed plastic surgery or cosmetic enhancement was worse.

"Oh Assy, look at your styling. All you bitches sport the same look, like a corporate identity. Hehehe!" Mr. Alum pointed out. "Like y'all come from the same assembly line. The one where they hand out plastic tits instead of brains."

Ouch and ouch! Again, that hurt! His comments made me feel extremely replaceable and disposable. Bimbo-me wanted me to open my mouth and argue that I wasn't some bleached blonde, fake-titted bimbo model. However, Consultant-me argued that it was the fate of all bimbos that I needed to accept. A fate that got me totally hot and bothered.

"Seeing that there are younger 'n hotter bimbos around here, we can all agree you need to step up your game, Assy!" It was Mr. Alum's turn to be all cunning again. "You better act more porno or you gonna get replaced faster than you can say ahh."

Once again, I really couldn't argue with that logic. Instead, it really motivated Bimbo-me. If I didn't look the best way for them, I needed to act the best way for them, right? But how?

Now that we had left the Studio Showroom, we had entered the Adult Playground. There were countless booths exhibiting all sorts of dildos and vibrators. Truth be told, I wasn't an expert in these things. Still, I was more experienced with sex toys than with adult films.

Strutting over to a booth, I browsed through all the different lotions, lubes, and gels. As hammy as I could, I turned around and spread my arms to present all the products. Oh jeez! The giddy shopping channel host was back. In a way, it was becoming part of Bimbo-me! Grabbing the first product off the shelve, I held it up on my palm to present it in the most dramatic way.

"Oh wow! Look what we got here, boys!" I exclaimed. "The... freshest, newest, bestest fragrance ever."

"That's why it's called... um..." I had to look at the bottle to check for the name. "Panty Dropper!"

"Hihihi! Ain't that... a super cute name. Hihihihi!" I tried to giggle hysterically when I realized the meaning.

"Mmm! Ain't that... a totally awesome smell." I announced after spraying some of the Cologne in front of me.

"Phew!" I pretended to wipe some sweat from my forehead. "Good thingie, I'm not wearing panties cuz so gone... like for sure."

Even if my bimbo babble was still lacking, I made up for it with my over-the-top gestures, right? Letting excitement and enthusiasm get the better of me, I emphasized my point by grabbing the hem of my skirt and lifting it all the way up. I mean, you gotta walk the talk, or more like act the porn, right? So I showed off my pantyless pussy to the douchey dudes, or more like to every visitor passing by the booth.

Actually, the extra attention encouraged me to further trump that. So I turned around, bent over, grabbed the back of my skirt, and tilted it all the way up. Finally, I got the chance to show off all my assets as the douchey dudes saw the ribbon tattoos on my upper thighs and the lip tattoos on my buns in all their details.

CLICK! CLICK!

Oh gawd! I suddenly heard some snapping noises. Oh jeez! I knew where the sounds were coming from. Oh gasp! Somebody was taking photos. I so didn't want to be recorded as part of an adult convention 'cause I still had my career to lose. I so didn't want to become the jerk-off material for some hapless dude 'cause I still had to much pride left. That was why I froze in my position. That was why I kept staring at the shelf.

"Oh man! Can't see no face." I suddenly heard a whiny male voice I didn't recognize. "Say cheese 'n flash me a smile, sweetheart!"

Of course, I didn't follow that instruction. Of course, I continued staring in the opposite direction. Somehow, though, Bimbo-me was totally geared towards obeying orders. Even though Consultant-me screamed murder in my head, I reached back and pulled my pussy lips apart, as if I was making my pussy smile. Damnit!

"C'mon man! You got a pair of winking holes there. All you need from a porn whore, ain't it?" I heard Mr. Alum's familiar voice tell the stranger in no uncertain words.

Ouch! In a way, he was helping me out here. Still, his remarks were way too blunt for my taste. Actually, they were way too nasty for anybody's taste.

"Can I get an autograph then? I'm a collector, you know." The stranger inquired, sounding kinda insecure.

"Nah! Don't bother with her. She's just a small fish, an interchangeable set of holes with no name." My fellow graduate rudely clarified.

Goddamnit! The way he was talking was such a double-edged sword. Supporting me with degradation. Helping me with humiliation. He was such a devious, two-faced bastard!

"Actually, she's such a minor player she's happy 'bout every pic that gets taken of her 'n her holes." Mr. Jetset chimed in. "In fact, it should be you giving her an autograph."

"Rather, you should give her butt an autograph, like giving her prime whore asset a stamp of approval from a connoisseur." Mr. Mercenary was quick to suggest.

OMG! These douchey dudes were working like a well-oiled machine to pimp me out, or more like a sales team smoothly selling their product. It totally worked, though. Both ways actually, 'cause I felt a pen on my right bun and a jolt in my pussy.

Oh Lordy! A stranger was signing my booty. That was more than demeaning in itself! On top of that, however, I had no clue what he was writing there. That was beyond demeaning! Most of all, however, it was really compelling, so much so that it was attracting attention.