Jessica's Change Management Ch. 28

As soon as I had nodded in agreement, Christina pushed the button. With that, a light went on, bathing the platform in red light and creating a really raunchy, super salacious atmosphere. Whatever! I was finally standing in the spotlight! Yay! There were only women watching me perform. Nay!

Never mind! Along with the illumination, music started playing from a barrel organ. It sounded like an instrumental chanson, which got me going, 'cause by now, I automatically associated the sound of music with a strip tease. To be honest, the type of music only added to the bizarre flair, as it totally fostered the burlesque cabaret atmosphere. Totally avantgarde! Totally eccentric!

Weird music or not, I had to focus on my dancing and stripping, right? After all, I was really motivated to give a premium performance here. No way, I could risk my former business fellows pointing out some flaws in my moveset. Duh! As the platform was really small, it didn't have a strip pole, so I had to bust out my bestest dance moves anyway. That was why I began pushing my hips out in rhythm while running my hands up my body. Flipping my long, two-tone hair, I lifted my stretched-out arms over my head and shook my shoulders to make my jiggly jugganauts bounce. In a dramatic motion, I bent forward. Keeping my legs straight, I bowed down until my right hand touched the platform. Staying in that position, I shook my booty epically. Real dirty dancing!

"Correct me if I'm wrong but it was the botox barbie who always said female leaders shouldn't take any shortcuts on the career ladder, wasn't it?" Melissa suddenly asked her first question. "Don't these career boobsters count as the ultimate shortcut?"

Oh jeez! Those were their questions? Total meanies! Still, the blonde businesswoman was correct. Harsh but true! Whether I liked it or not, I was committed to follow the rules to keep under Ortega's radar. That was why I had no other choice but to strip off some of my clothes. Actually, I wasn't so sad about it, 'cause I totally despised the court bimbo uniform anyways.

In any case, I got back into a straight position. Facing the two ladies, I placed my palms on the outer sides of my titterrific titties and pressed my fat, fake funbags together until they bulged out epically. Stripping was all about slow seduction so that was what I was doing. Yay! Hooking the tips of my long, pink stiletto nails into the pink sides of my neckline, I made sure to peel down the checkered corset oh-so-slowly. Slightly bending forward, I pushed the fabric down inch by inch until my jumbo juggs popped outta their confines and dangled off my chest. Yay! Yay!

With my bosom buddies exposed, I picked up where I had left off. Gyrating my hips in rhythm with the chanson music, I kept squeezing my monster melons. Piling on the sexiness, I pushed my titty flesh to the right side whenever my hips went left and vice versa. When the tune changed, I placed my hands on my hips and started some sorta belly dance. Performing a rolling motion from crotch to shoulders made my plumped plush pillows jiggle and wobble excessively. Yay! Yay! Yay!

"I remember Miss Bolt-on saying female managers have to put in extra hard work to lead by example. You remember that, too?" Christina posed the next question. "It's weird because this plastic package looks like the definition of the lazy trophy wife."

Oh shoot! My old friends had really taking to my nicknames, hadn't they? It felt so devaluing 'cause my boobjob still looked natural, sorta. OK, fine! Maybe, not totally natural, but at least like some of the bestest work a surgeon had ever done. By contrast, the degrading title made it seem like a cheap hackjob. As if!

Anyhow, back to topic! There was no denying that my bimbo style was kinda like an instruction manual for future gold diggers and trophy wives. After all, being a rich man's arm candy was a typical career path for bimbos, wasn't it? Another correct question by the business ladies. Gulp!

As my fat, fake funbags were exposed already, the checkered mini skirt was next. Spinning my booty in a super sexy way, I slowly got into a squatting position. Leaning back, I pushed my blown-up beef balloons out to the max. I didn't stop until I laid on my back and pushed my legs into the air. Like an experienced stripper, I made the typical scissors move. Every time I spread my legs wide, the skirt slipped up a coupla inches. While I repeated that pattern, I lifted my ass into the air with my hands supporting my back. As a result, the checkered mini skirt ended up bunched into a ribbon around my waist.

Triumphantly, I kept my legs spread to present my puffy pussy. After a few more scissors moves, I eventually put my feet on the ground, or more like I placed the sky-high platforms of my pink ankle boots on the stage. Lifting my crotch, I pushed my skirt off my waist and kicked it away. Ripe and ready! Tihi!

"Do I remember correctly that it was the botox barbie who said you should be dedicated to the company that gave you a start in the business?" It was Melissa's turn again. "She only seems dedicated to plastic surgery nowadays. This free-lancing seems like the opposite to me."

Oh boy! Now, they were chiding me for leaving the consulting firm? For real? In truth, it hadn't been my fault, 'cause it had been Ortega who had fired me. For sure! In response, I rolled over in a fluent motion to get on my hands and knees. Looking over my shoulder, I lifted my right hand and shook my index finger to show my dismissal.

"You're doing it wrong, ladies!" A male voice suddenly intervened. "Didn't you read the instruction?"

I instantly recognized the dude who interrupted us chicks so rudely. Of course, I did 'cause it was Lambert, the old sleazebag. Holy fudge! His arrival literally put me between a rock and a hard place, so much so that I was totally of two minds. On the one hand, another person meant more attention. On the other hand, I so didn't want my ex-colleagues to see me like that. What a conflict!

"Oh, don't you worry! We did understand the instruction perfectly. We were just getting Miss Bolt-on nude before the real fun begins." Melissa replied kinda peeved.

What a hubris! Totally presumptuous! Totally mansplaining! Of course, my fellow females had understood the rules of the game. They didn't need a dude for that. Duh!

"Fine, ladies! I see you got everything under control here." The senior consultant replied on the defensive.

With that, he was about to turn around and rejoin his buddies at the pavilion. As if! The taste of male attention had whetted my appetite, like literally. The women's condescension had been nice and all, but it was far from the real deal. I needed more. I needed male inspection. So needy! So desperate!

Besides, Ortega would certainly become suspicious if I kept failing to attract male guests to his elaborate carnival game. This was my chance to lure a dude to the 'Fun Stage'. Super critical! Super vital! That was why I wouldn't let it slip. There might have been some negative aspects, what with Lambert being a former co-worker, but priorities. Duh!

"Sirrr! Don't you, like, wanna join in the fun, like totes?" I hastily addressed the senior consultant in my bubbliest bimbo babble. "Fer shure, you can, like totally, explain the rules to me."

Once again, playing the damsel in distress worked wonders 'cause it made the geezer stop in his tracks. As I was still kneeling on the platform with my booty towards the crowd, I lowered my head and reached back to grab my butt cheeks. Spreading my buns in rhythm with the music, I played peek-a-boo with my fuckholes. It totally worked as I managed to catch Lambert's full attention. Yay! More importantly, I saw the 'funbag boys' taking notice when they walked past. Yay! Yay!

"Hiya, boysss!" I immediately called them out purring like the bestest bimbo. "Don't you, like totally, agree that my bangholes look way juicier than any drink ever? For realsies!"

The hope of attention was intoxicating, so much so that it totally masked the fact that the dudes were former subordinates of mine. Too late, though! I had already plunged both my forefingers into my pussyhole and both my middle fingers up my asshole to emphasize my invitation. After the 'Whack-a-Mole' dildo ride my sexholes were really stretched out and gaping anyways. Pulling my snatch and ringpiece apart, I totally presented the greatest gapes ever. That made my boys stop dead in their tracks. Yay! Yay! Yay!

"Nah! Gotta say, throwing games ain't my cuppa tea." Eric wasn't convinced.

"Yeah! That game looks boring." Damon added, obviously not impressed.

Holy moly! That came as a surprise. I mean, I was presenting my cunny and booty in the most inviting way ever. What wasn't there to like? No matter what it was, I wouldn't give up so easily. The rejection should have cleared my mind and let me refocus on the important things. It had the opposite effect, though.

"Maybe, you just, like totally, need the right targets, you know." I pouted epically. "Probably, you, like really, need a challenge!"

"You're, like actually, way too good for some boring tin stuff." I was scrambling for ideas here. "You, like legit, think you can handle a moving target? Like a bouncy bimbo?"

Oh wow! I was really trying hard to provoke the dudes. I was really going all out to make them play my game. Was it a good idea? That depends if it made the dudes stay, I guess. Did it work out? Sorta...

"Here's a thought!" Lambert interrupted me again. "Let's make it a contest!"

"Let's see who's the ace pitcher around here!" He suggested to the rest of the group.

"Now, you're talking! Been QB1 back in high school!" Damon responded with increasing enthusiasm. "You still got the guts to challenge me?"

"Oh, the rashness of youth." The senior consultant responded all paternally. "Been a starting pitcher in high school myself. It's been back in the day, but some things you don't unlearn. Guess, I gotta teach you boys a lesson."

"Of course, boys will be boys! You men have to turn everything into a contest! Not my cup of tea." Melissa didn't like the proposed competition.

As usual, Christina tagged along, which surprised exactly no one. For this reason, the two business ladies turned and walked away. Oh nay! Two spectators lost. Oh yay! Three cum-petitors gained. Still, a win in my book! Especially, as I had managed to trade female condescension for male attention. Hooray!

"Okay, Miss Addams! Nice to finally see you in your birthday suit. Tho, I guess, there's not a lotta original parts left there, is it?" Damon greeted me.

"Whatever! Gotta love a slut that prefers dick-tation to consultation. Hehehe!" He whooped it up. "Always knew you're my kinda girl, Miss Bolt-on! Boobs over brains all day long! Hehehe!"

Oh my gawd! That was what I was talking about. The blunt degradation swashed over me, making my entire skin prickle. The aggressive humiliation seized me, making my pussy throb. It cranked up my gushy glee while it fanned the flames of diva drama. As a result, I shook my head to make my long, dyed tresses fly in delight while stomping my foot in frustration.

"So, bitch? Ready to play?" The 'funbag boy' asked me. "Then show us what you got!"

Oh wow! I so didn't need to be told twice. His silly puns and stupid wordplays had ignited a fire in my loins. That was why I quickly got on all fours facing away from the dudes. Propping myself up on my lower arms, I spread my legs wide, so much so that I felt my butt cheeks opening until my snatch and bunghole were exposed. I was literally showcasing the full menu, as in my swollen meat flaps, juicy pink pussy flesh, zipper clit piercing, and gaping grotto. Oh, and my brimful beef balloons were totally visible in between my legs. Of course!

My selling point had been the bouncy target, right? For this reason, I started spinning my bootylicious butt extra invitingly while keeping my coochie and cornhole exposed. Even though I had dutifully started the bimbotainment, I was still waiting for the game to begin, 'cause nobody had told me the rules yet.

SPLASH!

As I was concentrating on my dance moves, I didn't see it or hear it. Yet, I totally felt it. What? Some soft, glibbery thing clashed against my ass. Strange!?! It totally burst on impact and some runny, jammy stuff started sipping down my bun. Weird!?!

"See! Mr. Ortega explained it to me. It's a Venetian carnival tradition to throw eggs at the women you're courting. True story!" Lambert explained. "Unusual, for sure. But fun, nonetheless."

"Of course, they used eggs filled up with rose water back in the day. But we're not really courting Miss Addams, are we?" He added with a chuckle.

DOOM and GLOOM!

Did I get it right? My former colleagues were throwing eggs at me? Did I perceive it right? They were using soft-boiled eggs? Did I feel it right? That was yolk oozing down my ass? Oh my gawd!

SPLASH!

Just when I realized what was going on, I felt another soft-boiled egg clashing against my body. Oh my gross!

"Eeeggghhh!" I couldn't help but screech.

The soft, glibbery food had been thrown with more precision this time, so much so that it crashed against my cunny! Feeling the jammy yolk running down my precious pink flesh and plump pussy lips made me mewl in disgust. What a revulsion! What a degradation!

As a reaction, my emotional pendulum spun faster than ever, whipping my scandalized stir into a frenzy. For good reason! I should have thrown a temper tantrum right there! But I didn't! Instead, my bouncy breeziness reached new levels as well. That was why my contrasting emotions resulted in two hybrid expressions. Shaking my booty enticingly, I clenched my fists aggravatedly. What a contrast! What a dichotomy!

Most of all, it motivated me to dance my discomposure away. Jumping to my feet, I became über-eager to be a moving target. For this reason, I quickly turned around and got my butt outta the strike zone. Phew! As I said before, the stage was kinda small, which really constrained my mobility. That was why I repeatedly started lifting my hip and pushing it out to the left, making me glide to the left end of the stage. From there, I proceeded to do the same with my right hip, smoothly sashaying from one end of the stage to the other. The sexy snake-like motion had a glorious ripple effect, as in making my fat, fake funbags wobble in the opposite direction. Super juicy! Super jiggly!

When I returned to the center of the stage, I continued the hip roll while spreading my legs. Moving my knees in unison with my hips, I pushed my booty left and right. Once again, it resulted in the glorious ripple effect with my monster melons swinging to the opposite side. What a booty twerk! What a booby shake!

The main effect? As I was constantly moving left and right, I was basically dodging my ex-colleagues' tosses. With success, 'cause the next egg went right past me. Yay! After Lambert had hit my ass and Damon had struck my pussy, Eric totally missed. As he had said, he wasn't good at pitching. However, his brash buddy missed thereafter, too. Yay! Yay! In jubilation, I turned a pirouette on the spot.

SPLASH!

"Uuuggghhh!" I grunted.

Oh fudge! Someone cheered too soon. Evidently, I wasn't getting away that easily. Apparently, Eric had been hesitating with his pitch, so Lambert had taken his shot. More so, he had adjusted his aim. The geezer really was a good pitcher after all. At least, he didn't manage to hit my coochie 'cause I was gliding over the stage super smoothly. Instead, the soft-boiled egg clashed against my left monster melon. Oh gasp! The egg totally burst on impact and sprayed yolk all over my jumbo jugg. Oh gulp! My extra expensive, extrawhordinary endowments were way too awesome for target practice. Oh gross! The sudden impact made me stop for a moment.

SPLASH!

"Ewww!" I gasped really upset about my own stupidity.

Of course, Damon had just waited for me to stay on a spot. Of course, the junior consultant had exploited my open-legged stance. Of course, the 'funbag boy' had aimed at my pussy and hit his target. Oh dang! Oh yuck!

Blazing fast, I restarted my hip rolls, with the result that I was gliding over the stage once more. Phew! For this reason, Eric took his time again. He feinted a throw several times while I continued dancing, which resulted in me growing tired and getting slower.

SPLASH!

Oh no! As the junior consultant hadn't managed to get his act together, Lambert had taken another shot. Of course, his target was the same as before. Of course, he was bang on target again, what with the egg clashing against my right fabulous fakebag. With the glibbery egg white splattering into my silicone valley, the slimy yolk started running all over my areola and dripping off my nipple. Oh darn! Oh ewww!

"Fuck yeah! That looks like fun." I suddenly heard Clark's voice. "But let's be real. Those supersized spotlights are hard to miss. So, what about the real game?"

Oh wow! I hadn't even noticed the presence of the newly appointed manager so far. Apparently, the old dude had joined his co-workers to watch their target practice. More attention! Yay! More ex-colleagues! Nay!

But wait! What had he said about the real game? These weren't the original rules? The whole egg tossing was some stuff that Lambert had made up? Oh sheesh! This had been extra disgusting for extra degradation. Oh shoot! This had been totally unnecessary. Oh fudge! I had severely underestimated the old sleazebag. What a revulsion! What a degradation!

Whatever! The inner circle seemed keen on starting a new round. For that, Eric and Clark traded places as the 'funbag boy' hadn't managed a single strike. Duh! Actually, I wasn't really sad about that trade. The junior consultant had been a bad pitcher. More importantly, though, he hadn't been on the same level as the rest of my former colleagues in regard to his dominant demeanor. Truth be told, I didn't have time for some half-ass wannabe. I needed full-blown alpha machos in my cunt-sulting crew. Tihi!

OK, fine! That wasn't really clever, was it? After all, bad pitches meant less yukky strikes. Then again, more hits meant more spectacle and more attention. That kinda bimbotainment would keep me outta Ortega's crosshairs and buy me time to come up with a plan. So in the end, it wasn't unclever either, right? Clever or not, this new group of three definitely comprised the three most dominant dudes in the consulting firm. Apart from Ortega, of course!

No matter what, it was time for the tough trio to prove their worth. First, though, they regulated the further proceedings, which gave me a bit of time to catch my breath. Meanwhile, I opened the checkered corset and let it slide to the ground. The fewer pieces of the clown's costume the better! Duh! Anyhow, back to dancing! Now that I was nude except for my trashy wetlook stockings and vulgar ankle boots, I busted out some of my bestest stripper moves. Yet, the dudes barely paid me any attention, 'cause they were still discussing the rules of the game. Apparently, Clark knew a thing or two about the carnival stalls from Ortega. In any case, he stepped up to the stage and pushed some buttons at the side of the booth.

As a result, the red lights went out. In their stead, a buncha white lights flashed up that put me in a bright spotlight. In addition, the music changed as the barrel organ started playing some sleazy glam rock instead of instrumental chansons. What a styles clash! In fact, the unique mixture perfectly fit my contrasting emotions, what with the highbrow cabaret clashing with the lowbrow sleaze just as the gushy glee clashed with diva drama. In any case, the changes totally made me feel like a cheap stripper in a seedy lap dance factory. Gulp! No matter what, it had another powerful effect on me 'cause the added smut factor made my pussy drip, so much so that it acted like an adrenaline shot that made me dance that much more enthusiastically. Pant!