Jessica's Change Management Ch. 23

Best thingie about the taco sign? It ended just about face level. As a result, I kept my titty meat squeezed and started lowering my boobies along the cardboard edge. With that, my pink top got hooked on top of the edge and slid up further and further.

Slip and slide!

The more I slid down the pole, the more of my underboobs got exposed. Look at these juicy curves, boys!

Slip and slide!

When I got into a squatting position, the tight fabric slipped over my nippies. Look at my inviting areolas, dudes!

Slip and slide!

When I knelt down, my hot rack got fully revealed. Look at these tear-shaped globes, guys! With my boobies liberated, I started moving up and down, literally giving the pole a boobjob. Über-eager! Über-zealous!

An SUV honked. Yay! A truck stopped and the driver watched. Yay! Yay!

I was finally seeing light at the end of the tunnel. No way, I would let another opportunity slip through my fingers. With this added motivation, I was really getting into the groove, so much so that I pulled my pink cap off my head and waved it through the air as if greeting the new spectator. Awesome side effect? I was totally showing off my new bleached blonde 'do with the black undertones.

Turning around, I stuck my butt out. Had I told you about my super short hot pants? The ass-eats-pants style totally came into its own. How? Cause I didn't stop until I had pressed my booty against the cardboard edge, so the makeshift pole basically split my butt cheeks. Bending over, I lowered my upper body deeper and deeper until my ass stuck out to the max. That was when I basically started humping the pole with my hungry butt. Super eager! Super zealous!

I became über-enthusiastic, so much so that I managed to knock over the cardboard sign. Oopsie! However, I took it as a sign not to get carried away too far. After all, this was just an enticement 'cause it was still my job to bring customers to the taco joint. Full of expectation, I turned around and looked at my audience. Oh no! The truck was already gone. Too eager! Too zealous! Again!

"So... boys! Ready... uh... more tacos?" I asked the remaining bikers, shaking my ass to stress my metaphor.

"Gotta say, sweety, if this was the strip club, you earned yourself a wad of notes." The big bellied biker told me.

"As a sample for that joint, though? If you're that desperate to win customers, the food's gotta suck! Sorry lil stripper!" He said brutally honest.

Oh gasp! So much straight shooting! Oh gulp! No punches pulled! Had I really gone overboard with the bimbotainment? Had I really overplayed my hand? I was way too stunned to react. As a result, the two bikers revved their engines and drove off before I had even closed my gaping mouth. I was literally left standing in their trail of dust with my stupid taco sign. Shoot!

Total gloom and doom!

I had never been so pouty and sulky ever. All that effort in vain. All that hard work for naught. I was so inept and incompetent. I was such a bimbo dud. I felt like I had let the entire 'Bimbo Nation' down. I felt like I really was Miss Lose-Whore.

My gloom was only increased when Checo walked up to me. Oh no! My shift was over and I hadn't managed to win a single customer. Gasp!

"I see, ya havin' fun, puta!" The rude thug told me. "Ya supposed to fuckin' work, not toy 'round, biatch!"

"Um... sorry, sirrr! I... uh... so did... uh... bestest." I sniffled insecurely.

I felt super incompetent, so much so that I was staring at the ground in shame. I felt ultra embarrassed, so much so that I was shuffling my feet. I was so disappointed in myself. I was so maddened by it all.

"Please... uh... sirrr! As amends... uh... could toy with you. Mean uh... with your toy. Mean uh... with your meaty toy?" I almost begged him to finally use my assets.

Gosh! I so needed to find my bimbo purpose! I so needed to get my bimbo approval. I was so ready to do whatever, wherever, whenever.

"Told cha I'm fuckin' busy, biatch!" He told me off in no uncertain terms. "Besides, I got a wake-up blowie from sum fresh piece o' LGZ meat this morning."

"Shit! Dat biatch's some young, hot piece of spring chicken." He elaborated. "Ain't got no use fo' ya old ass no mo', biatch."

What a shock! What a surprise! Total monkey business! Total nonsense!

I had expected any kinda thingie but this. Checo was rejecting me! He had gotten bored of me and my benefits! He had already replaced me! Oh jeez! This was über-frustrating! This was über-dissatisfying!

This was too much! I couldn't take it anymore! I was about to raise a hue and cry, or more like bawl and cry. I was on the verge of giving up! I was on the verge of relinquishing my bimbo career before it had started.

No way, girl! You have never been a quitter and you won't start now. This is way too important to capitulate that easily. This is way too relevant to tug your tail and run home crying. Always remember winners never quit and quitters never win. So use those brand new kissy lips to put a pretty smile on your face and grin and bear it like a true bimbo!

Oh wow! Was that Bimbo-me speaking or Consultant-me or both or were they one and the same by now? Actually, it felt like the two had blended together, what with Miss Consultant's strength of will and persistency combined with Miss Bimbo's happy-go-lucky attitude and fashion sense and horniness. No more conflict, no more contradictions, just Bubbly-Imbecile-Monstertitted-Barbie-Officialized.

Anyhow, it didn't really matter what drove me on! What mattered was that it gave me the strength to take one last shot at this bimbo career. The prospect of free expression and liberty and living life to the fullest was way too enticing. So, LGZ was getting bored of me? LGZ was looking to discard and replace me? Not on my watch! Not as long as I could suck and fuck and offer the bestest bang for the buck!

"Can... uh... buddies... uh... help you out? Mean, more like... uh... help me out?" I took that final attempt.

"What cha thinkin', puta? We're fuckin' chillin' all day long or what?" The Latino scoffed. "My vatos are busy hustlin'. Chingarle mucho! Just like cha should be, barrio biatch!"

"But maybe... uh... call them 'cause... uh... probably... uh... take break 'n... uh... possibly... uh... need distraction." I was grasping at straws.

Oh jeez! The tables had totally been turned, hadn't they? LGZ was holding all the cards, weren't they? No more LGZ dudes macking on me but me begging for their attention. No more LGZ dudes trying to put their hands in my pants but me pleading for their cocks. It was men deciding about my next career steps not me. It was men deciding about my deployment not me. It was men deciding about my bimbo tour of duty not me. So subby! So docile!

"Da hoe failed turnin' tricks 'n now ya lookin' to make up for dat, ain't cha?" The thug snorted still unpersuaded. "Fuckin' doubt it but whatever!"

"Got otha shit to take care off." He was turning away. "Today, sum fuckin' recruits work 'em corner for da first time."

Um... recruits? That didn't really sound worthwhile or enticing. But I had to take whatever I could get. Those newbies would be easy targets, as in literally low-hanging fruits, wouldn't they? Those rookies would be appreciative, as in rewarding, right? No matter what, I had to stake all I got on those recruits. It was literally make-or-break time.

"Maybe... uh... could... uh... help... uh... learn ropes." I didn't relent that easily, taking Ortega's workshops as example. "Kinda like... uh... cheerleader uh incentive uh whatever?"

I knew that the initiation process wasn't fun. The recruits possibly had to fight existing members or endure other hazing stuff. Cause of that, I was kinda sure they could use some comfort or solace. So, what better way to cheer them up than letting them tap a hot piece of gang ass, right?

"Yeah, whatever, biatch! Dem chavos got jumped in already." Checo wised me up. "Flaco's breakin 'em in now so dem vatos can fuckin' start slingin' sum dope."

Oh fine! Flaco sounded way better. Remember him? D-Rod's skinny ese with goatee, bald head, and big-time tattoos. It wasn't Sir Da-Rod, but it was somewhat close. But wait! The initiation was over? I was too late! There went my plan. Oh shoot!

"Ya got a point 'bout 'em incentive shit, tho. Dem milfy hoe as cheerleader. Que chido! No mames!" He slowly took to the idea. "Ya know what 'em say? Old horses for young riders 'n old riders for young horses. Hehehe!"

Oh boy? Old horse? So not enticing! Grrr! Anyway, I had a new objective and a new purpose. I had a job to do, and I had always been best under pressure. That knowledge slightly soothed my frustration and disappointment. It also gave me new motivation and incentive. So I quickly got into my car as soon as Checo had told me the address and Flaco's phone number. Off we go!

On my way, however, I got insecure again. No wonder after all those setbacks and failures, right? The dissatisfaction was still lingering. What if D-Rod's buddy didn't remember me? What if he had already replaced me with that young wannabe barrio bitch?

That was why I stopped my car and texted Flaco. Better safe than sorry, right? Anyway, I had to make sure that I was getting his attention, so I snapped a selfie for him. Not just any picture, though. I made the most iconic duck face ever, what with my lip augmentation and all. Additionally, I jiggled my juicy juggies epically, what with my ultra tight boob tube.

*You like what you see? I'm so proud of my boobies! You agree?* I sent as text.

Oh gawd! I was sitting in my car in the worst part of town bouncing my boobies and snapping pictures of it. So absurd! So bimboy! Anyway, I couldn't wait for an answer, so I hastily made a buncha more photos. Getting into it, I snapped the pics holding my smart phone in my right hand while slowly pulling my 'fake' top down to reveal my left funbag. Changing my hands, I proceeded to unleash my right fleshorb.

Oh wow! Maybe, Marcus had been right. Maybe, I really had the talent to become a influenc-whore or instatrash-star or whatever these bimbo bloggers were called. Tihi!

Just when I was sitting there in my car with both my boobies exposed, I remembered to check my surroundings. As I said, bad part of town, so there weren't lotsa cars or pedestrians or cops around. That was why I got lucky. Still, I had gotten way too excited, so much so that I had forgotten to be careful 'cause better safe than sorry, right? So silly! So bimboy!

*You missed this?* I texted all innocently while sending those boob pics.

*Fake bitch! Hawt tits!* I received the first encouraging response of the day.

*Thank you, I like to look like a sex doll for you LGZ boys. Hihi!* I quickly answered.

With newfound enthusiasm, I proceeded on my way. Looking for the corner Checo had described, I was kinda taken aback. Had I said bad part of town before? This was way worse. Driving down the street, it was lined with garage buildings and barren concrete walls that looked totally sordid and dilapidated, so much so that it oozed a sense of despair. All the gates were sprayed with graffiti and lotsa them were boarded-up. Bulky garbage and stacks of old tires were scattered all over the place.

The street ended in a three-way stop 'cause there was a freeway overpass in front. On the left side was a streetball court although one of the hoops was broken and there was nobody playing. On the right side was the corner I was looking for. At first glance, I saw four Latino dudes hanging around there with one of them being Flaco. All in all, it looked kinda unremarkable. Actually, it seemed like the opposite of busy and buzzing.

Here we go! There was a tunnel under the freeway, which seemed like the perfect parking spot. So that was where I parked my sports car which totally stood out from its surroundings 'cause new and expansive. When I got out, D-Rod's buddy slowly strolled over to me from the corner. He looked exactly as I remembered him, 'cause he was wearing his trademark low-ride khakis and white tee three sizes too big.

"Juicy stuff ya been sendin' me, puta. Wanna be LGZ's muneca del sexo, eh?" He asked me straight away.

"LGZ's fuckin' sex doll." He explained when he saw me frowning. "Cuz ya like gettin' treated like a fuckin' plastic hoe, eh?"

"Um... yes. I like... uh... being bestest bimbo... uh... for LGZ." I replied a bit taken aback. "Don't... uh... remember barbecue?"

Oh Lordy! The skinny gang member acted as if he didn't remember me. As if I hadn't given an awesome performance for D-Rod and his buddies back then. So disappointing! So devaluing! I felt the frustration flaring back up. I felt the dissatisfaction returning.

"Maybe... Looks like cha come a long way, biatch!" He didn't seem too impressed.

"I know!" I quickly grabbed that olive branch. "Plus... uh... love knowing... uh... all LGZ boys... uh... staring... uh... my titties."

Oh boy! I was pandering to the gangbanger way hard. I was still mumbling way harder although I was slowly getting the hang of speaking with my permanent trout pout. I simply had to use small words and talk extra slowly. Duh! So easy-peasy!

Anyhow, the way I made those blatant advances musta made me look so desperate. I musta looked so needy. Whatever! I didn't care, 'cause I was super needy and super frantic. I totally craved Flaco's appreciation. I totally craved the LGZ recruits' attention. Remember? Last-ditch effort! All or none!

Even though I was shaking my juicy juggies über-blatantly, it didn't seem to affect the gang member much. What the fudge? Were these gang dudes getting bored of their hoes that quickly? Were they replacing their hoodrats that easily and quickly? His slack, casual behavior totally prodded and goaded me, so I basically started jumping and bouncing around. I made my big, ole funbags jiggle and wobble so the skinny dude would finally notice my hot assets.

"Don't... uh... wanna take... uh ... super awesome upgrades... uh... for test ride... uh totes?" I finally begged him to fuck me when I couldn't take his disregard any longer.

"C'mon puta del barrio! Seen 'em phat-ass tits 'n barrio booty before." He responded. "Wit' 'em fake-ass resting pucker face, ya still look like a fuckin' coug, cha stupid hoodrat. Shoulda inflated 'em fleshcans to be a true plastic fuckdoll. Woulda been more bang for ya buck."

Umph! So not fair! I loved my new dinghy lips. Even though 'resting pucker face' kinda sounded like the purr-fect name, didn't it? However, I totally loved my natural rack as well. My boobies were still super full and ultra perky and über-juicy. Darn!

"I bet... uh... recruits wanna... uh... take awesome test drive offer. Uh shure!" I responded getting kinda bitchy while bringing the recruits into play. "They... uh... totally know... uh... what's good."

SLAP! SLAP!

Owie! Flaco had reacted by giving me two bitchslaps right to each cheek. It hit me totally outta the blue, so much so that it totally stunned me. For the moment, I lost my tongue although my cheeks stung as heck.

"Maybe... But ain't nobody askin' no gang hoe for her opinion." Flaco huffed really incensed. "Bettah ain't gimme no more lip, biatch! Dem blubber lips look swollen enough, ain't 'em."

"That facehole's made fo' fuckin', not fo' makin' fuckin' trouble! Can't understand shit cha say anyways." He added menacingly.

Even though he had put his hands back into the pockets of his khaki pants, the skinny gang member looked angry enough to give me another round of bitchslaps if I continued arguing. Gulp! Of course, he had a point, what with my stupid mumbling and all. Still, it was a wake-up call for me.

Without D-Rod at my side, I felt so exposed and vulnerable. On my own among the gang members, I was so defenseless and unprotected. It was obvious that neither Flaco nor Checo were interested in taking care of me. Oh dang! I missed a strong hand guiding me through my bimbo career. I missed Sir Da-Rod more than ever.

"Checo said cha wanna be a fuckin' cheerleader for 'em chavos. Dat right?" Flaco asked kinda rhetorical. "Bit old for dat, ain't cha?

The way, the skinny dude mocked my age shoulda been really infuriating. However, his cocksure, aggressive alpha male demeanor wasn't just threatening. It also made me totally servile and mostly tingly. After all, gave me more attention than Checo had paid me all day long. That was why I gave a major trout pout in response, as in ultimate sulking. Backtalk? So not bimboy! Pouting? So totally bimboy!

"Ya dumb-ass biatch wanna be fuckin' useful?" Flaco asked sharply.

"Ya bettah give a bomb-ass show to motivate 'em chavos." He urged when I nodded hastily.

"Ya stay here 'n shake dat fuckin' barrio booty. Dat's 'bout all cha know how to do anyway, puta." He determined.

"Dem chavos sling 'nuff product, 'em vatos can tap dat barrio booty as reward." He quickly elaborated. "If 'em chavos wanna stick it up a butt dat old."

With that, he turned around and left me standing there. Another slight! Another major sulking in response! Anyway, I had bigger fish to fry, or more like dicks to stir, like literally. After all, I was standing under an overpass in the town's barrio. Gulp! I was tasked with a public strip show. Gasp! Could it get any more sleazy or smutty? No way! As if!

Looking around, I noticed the graffiti on the pillars. To my left stood an old, rusty car wreck and to my right a buncha lost shopping carts and rain-soaked pallets. Next to my sports car, I saw an old stained mattress lying around. Could it get any more sordid or decayed? No way! As if!

Good thingie about the place? The pillars were dividing the underpass into two tunnels. So the one I was standing in could only be seen from the corner. Besides, there wasn't lotsa traffic. All cars driving by were basically stopping at the corner to buy stuff from the dope pushers. So I was safe despite the public space, sorta...

Bigger question? How was I supposed to tease those gang recruits from the other side of the street? Seeing them standing at the corner, I noticed the boys looking over. Tipping my pink cap, I waved at them. In response, they started laughing and chatting among each other. One thingie was for sure, I had their attention. Finally! Somebody was giving me what I deserved. Somebody was giving me what I needed.

The simple fact that I was causing a big stir at the corner was totally making up for all the setbacks. The fact that the recruits were constantly casting cursory glances over to me made all the disappointments worthwhile. After all the frustrations, it gave me a ginormous rush. Yay!

Totally elated, I felt like these young dudes deserved a bitching show in return. They deserved the bestest bimbotainment ever! What kinda entertainment, though? I was supposed to be a cheerleader, right? How should I do that without pompoms or stuff? I needed some kinda substitute thingie.

Actually, those shopping carts gave me an idea 'cause I had been buying groceries before heading to the taco joint. Remember? Fortunately, I had some stuff in my ice box that would come in handy now. It wasn't really a substitute for pompoms, but it would help me give a bomb-ass show. Actually, I had tried it before, and it had been a total failure. Nonetheless, I was still convinced of its magic. So I had to try it again. It couldn't be a flop again. Not this time!

Oh, you wanna know what I'm talking about? Easy! The popsicle fiasco! In theory, it had been an awesome idea, what with the gagging and melting and creaming and all. In practice, Marcus had not reacted as anticipated. This time, though, I would totally play it safe. Instead of a popsicle, I would use a dairy product, as in ice cream on a stick. Way more creamy! Way more messy!

Let's get down to action, right? After all, this was make-or-break time. Tottering over to my car, I opened the trunk and fetched the ice cream bar. So, how to start this thingie? Easy! Turning around, I stuck the wrapped-up bar into my cleavage. The effect? It pushed the neckline of my pink boob tube down in the center, revealing lotsa cleavage. It was also super cold, making me shudder and turning my boobnobs ultra hard.